getting closer now. He’s fucking me so hard and fast I have to clutch the table edge to keep from moving. He’s making small, sexy grunts that are driving me crazy with lust.
I’m getting closer but I need a little more. Just a little more something. Then, he gives it to me. His fingers trace the cleft of my ass, probing. His thumb presses against me back there, right on my pucker. My moan catches in my throat and I jump. My hips buck forward. Fuck, fuck, oh fuck, that’s not what I was expecting, but damn, it’s so good…
In another second I’m coming for the second time. My breath stutters out. I try to gasp in another but my orgasm has stolen my breath and the best I can do is sip at the air.
He thrusts into me once more and cries out, voice hoarse. We pant together after that, coming down. My legs tremble and my belly hurts from where it’s rubbed on the table edge, but don’t really care too much because I’m so utterly, totally sated.
He pulls out. By the time I turn around and tug my skirt back down over my thighs, he’s already tossed the rubber in the trash and pulled up his pants. He washes his hands at the sink while I watch.
I’m bleary and tired and still mostly drunk, but I give him a big, smug smile. “Wow.”
He looks at me over his shoulder. Like an afterthought. He smiles. “Yeah, thanks.”
I move closer to him, lazy and cuddly the way really good sex makes me feel. I reach for him, and he lets me hug him but even though I tilt my face up to his, he doesn’t kiss me.
“Hey,” I say, soft and purring. “Be nice to me.”
He bends and kisses my cheek, then gently but firmly pushes me from him and leaves the kitchen. I stare after him, pissed off. I follow him.
“Hey!”
He’s put on his coat. He turns, hand on the doorknob.
“You’re leaving?” I put my hands on my hips, indignant. “Just like that?”
Joe nods once, so solemn I feel like I can’t really rage at him. I mean…it was a hookup, yeah, I get it. But it was really, really great sex, the kind that’s worth breakfast, at least.
“But…”
He shakes his head, stopping me. Then he opens the door and leaves. Only when it’s closed behind him do I realize he never bothered to ask my name.
Joe twirled a straw paper in his fingers, knotting it. He didn’t look at me. He hadn’t looked at me since he sat down.
“Why didn’t you ask her name?” I hadn’t eaten anything. I hadn’t even opened my lunch bag. Though I was only a few inches away from Joe on the bench, it might as well have been miles.
He turned, slowly. Our eyes met. I drew in a breath and held it. The look he gave me was a challenge of some sort.
“Because it didn’t matter.”
Maybe her name didn’t matter, but his reason for not asking did. His story comforted me. This was the Joe I knew, the teller of tales and splitter of peaches. Not the man who last month had threatened to upset the balance of our relationship by wanting to change.
“About last month,” I said finally. “I’m sorry.”
He shrugged. “You were right.”
I nodded, as if he’d made a longer explanation. Not even when we first met had our silence been so uncomfortable. I had to look away, at last, afraid my face showed too much of what I couldn’t say.
“I wasn’t even planning on going home with her,” he said after a minute. “Or with anyone.”
“So…why did you?” I couldn’t help the fascination.
“C’mon, Sadie. You know how it is.”
“No, actually. I don’t.”
Joe let a puff of air seep from his lips, not quite a whistle. “You’ve never?”
“No. Never.” I shook my head to further emphasize my point.
“You’ve never been with someone only once.” His tone sounded disbelieving or envious, I wasn’t sure which.
“I’ve only been with one man.” The admission wasn’t shameful, just…the truth. It seemed to shock Joe, who probably couldn’t comprehend my experience any more than I could his.
“Only
I’m getting closer but I need a little more. Just a little more something. Then, he gives it to me. His fingers trace the cleft of my ass, probing. His thumb presses against me back there, right on my pucker. My moan catches in my throat and I jump. My hips buck forward. Fuck, fuck, oh fuck, that’s not what I was expecting, but damn, it’s so good…
In another second I’m coming for the second time. My breath stutters out. I try to gasp in another but my orgasm has stolen my breath and the best I can do is sip at the air.
He thrusts into me once more and cries out, voice hoarse. We pant together after that, coming down. My legs tremble and my belly hurts from where it’s rubbed on the table edge, but don’t really care too much because I’m so utterly, totally sated.
He pulls out. By the time I turn around and tug my skirt back down over my thighs, he’s already tossed the rubber in the trash and pulled up his pants. He washes his hands at the sink while I watch.
I’m bleary and tired and still mostly drunk, but I give him a big, smug smile. “Wow.”
He looks at me over his shoulder. Like an afterthought. He smiles. “Yeah, thanks.”
I move closer to him, lazy and cuddly the way really good sex makes me feel. I reach for him, and he lets me hug him but even though I tilt my face up to his, he doesn’t kiss me.
“Hey,” I say, soft and purring. “Be nice to me.”
He bends and kisses my cheek, then gently but firmly pushes me from him and leaves the kitchen. I stare after him, pissed off. I follow him.
“Hey!”
He’s put on his coat. He turns, hand on the doorknob.
“You’re leaving?” I put my hands on my hips, indignant. “Just like that?”
Joe nods once, so solemn I feel like I can’t really rage at him. I mean…it was a hookup, yeah, I get it. But it was really, really great sex, the kind that’s worth breakfast, at least.
“But…”
He shakes his head, stopping me. Then he opens the door and leaves. Only when it’s closed behind him do I realize he never bothered to ask my name.
Joe twirled a straw paper in his fingers, knotting it. He didn’t look at me. He hadn’t looked at me since he sat down.
“Why didn’t you ask her name?” I hadn’t eaten anything. I hadn’t even opened my lunch bag. Though I was only a few inches away from Joe on the bench, it might as well have been miles.
He turned, slowly. Our eyes met. I drew in a breath and held it. The look he gave me was a challenge of some sort.
“Because it didn’t matter.”
Maybe her name didn’t matter, but his reason for not asking did. His story comforted me. This was the Joe I knew, the teller of tales and splitter of peaches. Not the man who last month had threatened to upset the balance of our relationship by wanting to change.
“About last month,” I said finally. “I’m sorry.”
He shrugged. “You were right.”
I nodded, as if he’d made a longer explanation. Not even when we first met had our silence been so uncomfortable. I had to look away, at last, afraid my face showed too much of what I couldn’t say.
“I wasn’t even planning on going home with her,” he said after a minute. “Or with anyone.”
“So…why did you?” I couldn’t help the fascination.
“C’mon, Sadie. You know how it is.”
“No, actually. I don’t.”
Joe let a puff of air seep from his lips, not quite a whistle. “You’ve never?”
“No. Never.” I shook my head to further emphasize my point.
“You’ve never been with someone only once.” His tone sounded disbelieving or envious, I wasn’t sure which.
“I’ve only been with one man.” The admission wasn’t shameful, just…the truth. It seemed to shock Joe, who probably couldn’t comprehend my experience any more than I could his.
“Only
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