Sail (Wake #2) (26 page)

If I were hard pressed, I wouldn’t be able to choose, but didn’t have to. Because there she was, waiting for me, like a kite in the breeze. Waiting for me to put up or shut up.

I stood to unbuckle my pants. If she wanted to watch, I’d show her. She studied every move I made with hungry eyes.

It wasn’t a challenge for me; I’d been hard most of the night. So when I pulled myself free of my boxers, dick in hand, I began a time-honored Casey ritual. I clutched my cock tightly and her eyes widened at the sight of me man-handling my manhood.

She licked her lips and I kept going.

“Is this what you wanted to see?” I asked and slid my palm up and down my dick. Slack-jawed, she nodded her head, yes. I propped one knee up on the bed. If
I
expected a good show,
I
had to give one.

First, her cautious hand found its way to the button fly of her jeans and opened them. Then her slow, shy fingers dipped below her panties where I couldn’t see and her head fell deeper into the pillow. Her eyes full of lust and wonder as she watched, never taking her eyes off my cock.

“Take your pants off, Blake,” I instructed. She wasted no time heeding my request.

Good girl, the panties, too.

After her bottom half was as naked as mine, she roamed the bed for her toy. I peered down at my stiff dick and saw a drip of pre-come glazing the tip. I slowed my hand at the head, and ran my thumb over its slickness, just as I heard the vibrator turn on.

I stood mesmerized, watching as she gingerly ran it through the lips of her pussy a few times and then, when she found just the right spot, she dialed up the intensity. She pressed herself against it, her hips grinding seductively along the length of it, as a pleasure-filled moan left her lips.

When our eyes finally found each other she mouthed, “I want you.”

I couldn’t take any more. I dropped my dick and climbed onto her bed, it was softer than the one I had at home and my knee sunk into both the plush bedding and the mattress.

I took her toy away, and tossed it aside, saying, “It’s my turn.”

My hand wandered under her shirt and over her warm skin. Her breath hitched and she shivered as my fingers lightly danced over her stomach.

She rose and lifted her arms above her head, telling me she didn’t need or want her shirt anymore. I grabbed it by the hem and pulled it off, and then she lay back down.

I straddled her, putting a knee on either side of her thighs, and I closed my legs as much as I could so her legs were tightly pressed together. My hands found her sides and I leaned forward to reach behind her and unclasp her bra, but I couldn’t find it.

She chuckled a little, and then performed her next trick. With a flick of her wrist, she unhooked it in the front, her breasts softly bouncing free. For someone who didn’t think she was sexy, she was doing a damn fine job proving herself wrong.

I moved the fabric to the sides, and with both palms, cupped her, loving the feel of her in my hands. Her tits were gallery-worthy. Perky, but natural and full. Her nipples were almost the same color as her lips and they tasted just as good.

I don’t know what it was, but the sight of my hands on her body turned me on even more. The contrast of my big hands and her perfectly delicate skin seemed so erotic.

She puckered her lips requesting a kiss. Another look on my favorites list.

When our mouths met, she tugged at the only piece of clothing left between us. My shirt. I urgently took it off and tossed it, getting back to her mouth as fast as possible.

Her warm hand gripped my shaft tightly, like she’d watched me do to myself. Then she caressed me to the point of almost weakness. Even though I was much more practiced at it, when she did it, I felt so much more.

Somehow, the human body lets you split into two sets of feelings whilst enjoying incredible fucking moments like that. Both the sensations she gave me with her touches, and the ones I took pleasure feeling while exploring her.

My mouth made its way past all of my favorite hang-outs. Stopping behind her ear, where I heard a sigh slip past her lips. I painted a thin stripe up her neck with my tongue and felt her shift under me as her body came alive, rocking into her own hand as she gripped my cock.

I spread my legs to give her more room and I encouraged her to roll over.

Her beautiful ass looked like a picture-perfect heart. I kissed it and ran my teeth over her, wanting to bite, but holding back.

“Ahhh,” she quietly panted, but lifted her ass more.

“You like that, don’t you?”

“Mmmm,” she purred.

I raked my teeth across her, a little harder that time, and she whimpered. Would I ever get bored discovering this woman? It wasn’t likely.

I inched forward on the bed behind her, lifting her hips higher to meet mine. She looked back at me, over her shoulder. The sight of her dark hair flowing down her back was stunning. And I could have come right there, as she waved her ass, side to side, over my cock.

“Do you want this?” I asked and gripped myself, running the tip of my erection against her. Back and forth, front to back, teasing her.

Then, out of nowhere, my open hand met her ass. It was a move I hadn’t even seen coming. I only knew it happened when I heard the quick pop of my palm meeting her backside.

“Yes,” she breathed. Her mouth hung open in surprise, as her tongue wet her lips.

I pushed straight into her and she bowed under the pressure I applied. Wet and ready, she accepted me.

“Yes,” she said again and pushed back. Loving the reaction the slap gave her, I let everything primal possess me. I pulled slowly out of her, bent forward, and kissed between her shoulder blades. Then my hand, from no farther away than from my side, swatted her again, as I pushed deeper into her.

I watched her hands ball the pillowcase as she said my name.

It was a new thing. It was exciting as hell. I fucked her like I craved and she responded by fucking me right back. I reached down and pulled her up with me, my front against her back as we both got closer to orgasm. My fingers roamed the top of the bed for her toy, and her head lulled on my chest as she rode me from the front.

I found the vibrator and gently brought it around to her clit, then turned it on.

She became a woman unleashed. Taking what she wanted, as I gave her everything I had. I leaned back, holding her to me, as she talked to God and me alike.

When I came, just after her, with my mouth open, pressed against her neck, I told her I loved her. Because even at my most primal, barbaric and dominant, I did—and it was because of her I was that strong.

Saturday, February 13, 2010

I DREAMT OF STRONG arms holding me. And while I slept, I felt protected and cherished, because he was there with me.

When I awoke the next morning, sprawled out with my head at the foot of my bed, I listened to Casey sing in the shower. He had some pretty good moments where he nailed it. But my favorite parts were when he ad-libbed the words through the parts he didn’t. I learned a lot of peculiar things about Beyoncé from his lyrics. Listening, I smiled and laughed into my sheets. He was ridiculous.

Entering the steamy bathroom, it felt surreal stepping into a shower—in my home—that hosted a singing Casey Moore. It was my new favorite way to wake up. I wrapped my arms around his wet body from behind, as he rinsed his hair under the hot stream of water.

“Good morning,” he said, as the turned around in my arms, slipping easily through my loose hug.

“Great morning,” I corrected.

With both hands, he pulled his hair back away from his face so he could see me. He placed a sweet kiss on my forehead, after ridding the stream of water coming from his nose with a shake.

“I didn’t know you were such a Beyoncé fan,” I said sarcastically, swapping spots to wet my hair.

“I didn’t know I had an audience.” He squeezed his soap into a washcloth.

I loved watching him shower. Naked. Wet. Soapy. Stretching. Rubbing.

In the times we’d showered together, I’d often lost track of what I was supposed to be doing. He’d remind me, by handing me shampoo or body wash. It was a good thing he did that for me or I would stand there and watch him like a pervert the whole time.

I also liked when he knew I was totally useless and washed my hair for me. He did a great job, his big hands reaching everywhere on my head all at once.

“I’m hungry,” I admitted.

He washed his underarms with something that smelled fresh and a little exotic. Casey’s hand reached the ceiling, he was tall and seemed so big like that.

“Me too. Hey, I saw the for sale sign out front when I got here last night. Will you have to move if they sell it?”

“I’m not sure. Dave—the guy who owns the place with his parents—said occupied places, like this, sell faster. So I don’t think so. That reminds me, he left a message saying that someone was looking at it on Monday around five. I need to write that down.”

“Oh,” he said. “That’s a shame.”

“What? You don’t like it? It’s pretty bare in here, huh?”

“No, that’s not it. I just think it would be awful if you needed a place to live.”

Wink.

Oh. I saw where he was going with that. It was the second time he’d alluded to me moving in with him. The water in the shower was hot, but a different kind of warmth spread through and around my heart.

I couldn’t wait until my divorce was final. Until all of this was just some stuff we went through in the beginning. Until I could actually think about possibly moving.

I balanced myself on the tips of my toes and kissed him for his cute way of thinking.

“I don’t think I’d ever have to worry about that. I’ll always have a place to go.”

“That’s right,” he said with his head high. “I think the circus takes just about anyone these days.” He laughed. “Hurry up. My girlfriend’s hungry.” He stepped out and started drying off. And, more importantly, letting all of the warm air out of the shower stall in the process.

Girlfriend. Was I his girlfriend?

“What did you call me?” I asked, as I followed him out and took the towel he offered me.

“I called you my girlfriend,” he answered, but he kept moving like the whole world hadn’t just shifted.

Was that where we were? Was it even possible?

After all this time, after everything, I was overwhelmed by that one tiny word. I felt myself getting choked up and tried not to get silly emotional over it. But it really hit me at that moment.

We’d been given another shot. No. We’d earned our shot.

Where other couples were lucky to have met and effortlessly moved from strangers into such trivial roles as boyfriend and girlfriend, we had to fight like hell—just for the titles. It wasn’t a huge thing, and I was sure I was overreacting, but I didn’t stand a chance at quelling the happiness that surged through me.

I wrapped an extra towel around my hair. When I stood up, eyes beginning to sting from the first happy tears I’d cried, in I didn’t know how long, he caught me. My chin quivered, but I smiled brightly.

“Now, what’s this? Are you crying?” He ran a thumb under my eye, which only intensified the moment. He was so…so…exactly what I wanted.

“No,” I disputed, but nodded my head yes. I’d never cried from pride, but that was how I felt. Proud. I was proud to be claimed like that by him.

Then the thought hit me, I couldn’t be all-the-way his.

Regardless of not wearing the ring, or parking in the same driveway after work, the truth was, I was still married to Grant. Accepting the precious title of Casey’s girlfriend didn’t seem right yet.

My happy tears mixed with my frustrated tears. It was a lucky thing both kinds were clear. He couldn’t tell them apart.

“Why are you
not
crying then?” he asked, humoring me.

“I’m
not
crying because you called me your girlfriend.” I sat down on top of the toilet lid. “And I’m
not
crying because you’re so sweet and just wiped a tear—that wasn’t really there, by the way—off my cheek. But mostly, I’m
not
crying because I’m sick of waiting to actually deserve being called that.” I tucked my chin onto my chest and sat there feeling foolish and hyper-emotional, maybe a little hormonal—as it was about that time of the month.