He goes slowly at first: pushing only one and then two inches inside of me, but in a moment, the whole length of him is inside and my fingers are curled, gripping the skin of his back.
He fills me perfectly, again and again and his mouth is so warm, kissing my neck.
“You feel amazing,” he tells me and his tempo increases, little by little, until my legs quake and my breath comes in gulps.
“I’m going to come,” I whisper into his ear.
“Come,” he tells me, and kisses my cheek, then my lips.
When that rise starts growing within me, I press my lips into his, if only to contain the volume of my ecstasy.
My legs tremble as I tighten them around his body, and every moment I expect that tremor of release, but the feeling only builds and builds until I’m in another world entirely with only his embrace as sweet gravity, keeping me tethered to the earth.
When the jolting electric waves shoot through me, I pull my head back and forget any care as my body responds, immaculate, to his every movement.
My heart is pounding, and I could swear I feel the earth shift beneath and around me, though the waves continue to wash over my body.
“I love you,” I whisper as the pulse starts to recede and he smiles as he presses himself into me over and over.
“I love you, too,” he says, and I have a feeling that things are never going to be the same again.
Chapter Sixteen
The Other Side
Dane
The most beautiful morning greets me when I wake, but it’s easily overtaken by what I have to do next. I have to tell Wrigley not only can I not be in a relationship with her, but we’re going to have to stop seeing each other entirely.
Sure, we could stay friends, but I have a feeling she’s not going to be thrilled about that particular option.
I might have been able to enjoy the morning more completely if it didn’t mirror the morning that Wrigley and I spent right after I told her that I wanted to be in a relationship with her.
Yeah, I kind of bungled this one from the start.
Oh well.
Before anything else happens, I need to tell Wrigley what’s going on and that we can’t see each other anymore.
You know, even a few days ago, I would have just avoided the situation entirely: Wrigley being a little bat-shit-crazy and all, but after the conversation we had over coffee yesterday—I don’t know. This might not be so bad.
My first instinct is to just give her a call and drop the news that way, but that seems like the coward’s way out. We’ve been whatever we’ve been long enough that she deserves to hear it face-to-face.
Besides, she was actually supportive when presented with the information that I have a thing for Leila. Supportive might not be the right word, but it’s close enough to feel somewhat confident.
I make the call.
“Hello?”
“Hey, it’s Dane,” I tell her.
“Hey,” she says. “Did you and your roommate have your little talk?”
“Yeah,” I say. “I think we should probably discuss that face-to-face, though. What are you doing later?”
“It’s Sunday,” she says. “I have fuck-all planned. What about lunch?”
“Okay.”
The conversation is pretty short. I don’t know why, but it’s a bit unsettling me how smoothly this is going.
Leila’s off planning her move with Mike. I don’t really like the guy, but as I’m going to lunch with Wrigley, I really can’t say anything about it.
I take a quick shower and get dressed.
Wrigley and I didn’t really set a time, she merely finished off her part of the conversation by saying, “We’ll go when you get here.”
I guess I’m picking her up, then.
When I get to Wrigley’s, she’s wearing a slinky peach-colored top with no bra and I guess it’s a skirt.
“Ready to go?” she asks.
“Yeah,” I tell her. “Where are we going?”
“The roof,” she says. “I put out a picnic basket. Come on,” she says. “Let’s talk.”
Either she doesn’t know what’s coming and she’s about to get blindsided, or she knows exactly what’s coming and she’s trying to fuck her way out of it.
Either way, this is going to suck.
We get up on the roof, and I double-check to make sure the door is propped open so, just in case she tries something particularly savage, I can make some kind of escape.
“You had sex last night, didn’t you?” she asks.
I’m usually not one to be at a loss for words, but the bluntness of the question catches me off-guard.
“What kind of question is that?”
“Now that’s got to be one of the oddest pronunciations of the word ‘yes’ I’ve ever heard,” she says.
She’s smiling, but I don’t trust that she’s this blasé about it.
“Yeah,” I tell her, finally.
“Your roommate?” she asks.
“Yeah,” I say again, quietly.
I don’t know what it is, but Wrigley has a real knack of making me unsure of myself.
“How was it?”
The tension gets to be too much, so I do the only thing I can.
I laugh.
“You can’t honestly expect an answer to that question,” I tell her.
She rolls her eyes.
“That’s all right,” she says. “I figured you’d be off getting your dick wet, so I made sure not to waste my night either.”
If Wrigley was someone else, I’d think she was making this up to try to make me jealous. Knowing her, though, I have no doubt she’s telling the truth.
“All right,” I say, shrugging my shoulders, trying to be nonchalant.
I’m not going to lie. I am a bit jealous.
That said, I’m much happier to be with Leila. At least she’s not going to go down on the cab driver if we get into an argument.
Wrigley’s laugh is an odd mix of lighthearted and flat out disturbing.
“Oh, calm down,” she says. “So, is that all you wanted to talk to me about? I’m starting to feel a little overdressed.”
“Overdressed?” I ask.
“Yeah,” she says. “Obviously, we’re not going to be making it exclusive with each other, but I see no reason why we can’t keep fucking until we’re bored.”
“I don’t think you understand,” I start. “I love Leila.”
“I’m sure you do,” she says. “Sex has a way of tipping the scales in that direction—especially for people like you.”
I ignore the barb.
“You don’t understand,” I tell her. “I can’t see you anymore.”
That smile is back, but the lighthearted aspect to it is gone.
“Oh, you can’t tell me you’re that whipped already,” she says. “I’m very discreet. I’ll even meet you at the office for your lunch break or dinner break, or whatever the fuck chefs do. We’ve got too much sexual chemistry for either of us to just walk away from it now.”
She’s fucking with me. She has to be.
I smile.
She smiles back.
“Really,” I tell her. “I’d like to stay friends, but we can’t see each other that way. Not anymore.”
“Oh,” she says. “All right, I get it.”
“Riggs—”
“Do you really think now is the time to debut a pet name?” she snaps. “Just what happened to make you such a pussy anyway?”
And I actually, for a moment, believed that things were going to be idyllic from here on out: how naïve.
“I’ll tell you what,” she says. “I know you’re basking in the glowing warmth of strange, so I’m going to give you today, tomorrow and—what the hell?—I’ll throw in Tuesday. After that, though,” she says, “I’m expecting your call.”
“I’m sorry, Wrigley,” I tell her. “It’s just not going to happen. We can be friends, but—”
“Has anything ever given you the impression that I wanted to be your friend?” she asks.
“The other morning, you told me that I should figure out what my feelings for Leila were,” I rejoin. “I thought you were—”