Chapter Nine

The next morning, Megan woke to the sound of the shower running. She was amazed Sean had made it out of bed so soon and appeared to be getting ready for work. She was in no hurry to face him again and lingered in bed until the front door closed a half hour later. But as she poured a cup of coffee and sat down to read her article in the paper once more, Megan resolved to continue to try to repair their damaged friendship. They couldn’t go on like this, snapping at each other at every opportunity. They had to break through the sexual tension barrier and find a way to live together as friends.

Coming home that night, she picked up a bottle of wine as a peace offering when she stopped for food. Megan chose Thai and made sure she had enough Pad Thai and dumplings to keep carb-loving Sean happy.

He was studying at the dinette table, scribbling with a pencil in a spiral notebook Megan had given him for his schoolwork. He looked up when she came in and muttered a brief hello before focusing back on the page.

“You up for some Cabernet Sauvignon to unwind?” she asked perkily.

Sean raised his head again, this time with a look of incomprehension.

“Uh?”

She flourished the bottle at him. “Wine.”

“Um, yeah, sure. Cool.”

“I thought it would be nice to treat ourselves on a Friday night,” Megan said with a smile. “D’you want some now or are you planning to study late?”

“Now’s fine, thanks. I’m pretty much done. Give me five minutes and I’ll set the table. About last night—sorry. Your story was fine. I was just being—sensitive or whatever. It was stupid. And, uh, sorry about getting wasted, too.”

“No. It was wrong of me not to have run the article by you first, especially after I promised I would. I hope we can put it behind us, though.”

“Sure.” He smiled at her, and for the first time in ages, the atmosphere in the apartment lightened. Sean looked as relieved as she felt to have the air cleared.

The wine, and the food—Sean ate all his noodles and half of Megan’s—kept them relaxed. They chatted about their day, swapping stories about their co-workers and laughing at shared jokes until their banter was interrupted by the phone ringing.

It was Sasha, in a very noisy place, and boisterously drunk. “Megan?” she shouted. “You have to come to Bar Loco tonight.”

“I have to?”

“Yes, you have to. It’s been ages since we last got drunk together, and I miss it. I miss you. You never come out anymore, you’re always working. I have enough of that shit with Stevie. Come play with me!”

“You sound like you’re well ahead of me already. I’ll be playing catch-up all night.”

“Well, you’ll just have to drink faster when you get here. I’ll buy the first round of tequilas. Come on. There’s some people you know and music, and it’s still happy hour.”

Megan considered the possibilities. This could be the perfect opportunity to engage with Sean.

“Okay. Meet you there. And I’m bringing Sean,” she said, looking at him beseechingly.

He shrugged, his expression uncertain, but he wasn’t scowling.

“Sure,” Sasha said after a beat. “That’s a great idea. See you in half an hour?”

“Half an hour.” Megan put the phone down and turned to Sean. “You up for going out with Sasha and whoever? Try out that fake ID you got?”

He nodded. “Sure.” Not exactly enthusiasm, but it was a start.

When they got to the bar, Sasha was chatting with one of her former advertising colleagues, a guy Megan vaguely knew, and a couple of friends of his. Further along the bar, James was deep in conversation with a barmaid. Despite the crowds gathering at the bar, he managed to hold her attention, telling her God knew what anecdote from his inexhaustible supply. Megan could only see the back of his head, his spiky blond hair brushing the collar of his jacket, and felt an irrational surge of fondness for him. She prayed he wouldn’t make a big deal out of Sean’s presence—or vice versa.

By the time he’d scored the girl’s phone number and a promise to hang out when her shift ended at midnight, James was in a great mood. He hugged Megan enthusiastically and managed a polite nod toward Sean.

Sean nodded back.

What worries she had about the two of them getting along dissolved. With the buffer of Sasha’s effusive drunkenness, the presence of other guys to supply ready-made football conversations, and the free-flowing beers, the atmosphere stayed relaxed and laid-back.

It was shaping up to be a pretty fine Friday evening. Beer turned into tequila and Megan felt buoyant and light. She loved her life and her fantastic friends and her hot buddy Sean and all the wonderful people in the club. It was a damn beautiful world to live in.

A few more drinks and Megan started to catch the beat of the techno-pop tune that was cranked up so loud you had to shout to be heard over the thumping bass. She sipped her drink and swayed in her seat, eyes half-closed and head bobbing. Sasha had gone to the bar and Megan had tuned out the guy talk. It was too hard to hear anyway and she was in an almost meditative trance, just her and her drink and the hypnotic music.

She felt someone touch her wrist and opened her eyes to see Sean nod toward the dance floor. She stood and followed him into the sea of gyrating, sweaty bodies. They bumped their way onto the floor until they created a little space to move in and Megan swayed from side to side with a sexy shimmy. She didn’t ordinarily think of herself as that great a dancer, but when she’d had a few drinks, she believed she was a dancing diva. She waved her arms and hands in intricate patterns in the air over her head, hips grinding and ass wiggling.

Sean moved into place behind her and matched his movements to hers. One of his hands rested on her bare midriff, the other on her hip, and together their lower bodies moved in sexual, tribal rhythm.

Sean’s crotch ground away against her ass. Through her too-tight, too-thin skirt, his arousal was undeniable, his erection pushing against her flesh, but instead of stepping away, she leaned back into it. Her back molded itself to his solid chest, the heat of his body almost scorching her skin.

The temperature on the dance floor must have been ninety-some degrees. Megan sweated and writhed with the other dancers and wanted nothing so much as to find a dark, shadowy corner of the club, pull off her underwear and let Sean take her from behind. For real, not mock-fucking like they were doing out here on the dance floor.

She supposed she should be worried about whether her friends were watching, but when she lifted her bleary eyes, she couldn’t even spot them in the crowded place, and she didn’t really care right now.

The fast number ended and a slower dance number followed—still full of bass, but much more intimate. Sean surprised her by taking her hand and spinning her around to face him, then gathering her into his arms in classic dance position, one hand on her waist and the other clasping hers.

She rested her hand on his shoulder and clutched at the damp fabric of his T-shirt.

The music was slow and erotic, but Sean kept his distance now they were face to face, keeping his pelvis a few inches away from hers and holding her politely, almost sedately, as they rocked back and forth.

 

 

Sensual and sleepy, she wanted to move in closer, rest her head on his chest and stay that way for about an hour. She glanced up and he looked down at her through his sweat-spiked fringe of bangs, not at her eyes, but at her lips. Automatically, she ran a nervous tongue over them and his lips parted slightly in response. His head started to dip toward her.

Megan gathered her wits and turned her head away before she crossed that line again. Suddenly very sober, she watched the other dancers until eventually the song ended. Sean stepped away from her and by tacit agreement they both left the dance floor.

Another round of drinks waited for them at the table. Megan tossed hers back. It burned all the way down her throat and started numbing her almost right away. That was good. Other people were also good. She started talking to Sasha and made a conscious decision not to make eye contact with Sean again. There were darts and pool and more drinks to distract her from him. But she was aware of him all evening long whether near her or across the bar.

 

 

 

Megan woke with a headache. It was barely light, and she squinted at her alarm clock. Six a.m. She had a hangover and a mouth as dry as the Sahara, and she didn’t even have a glass of water by her bed. Great way to start the day. She sat up and swung her legs off the bed, wobbling a little as she stood. Damn, she should have kept off the tequila. She remembered a lot of laughter, and a few beers, Sasha getting uproariously and very happily drunk, James making out with the busty waitress on the dance floor, Sean buying a last couple of tequila shots for him and Megan to slam on the bar before hitting home, which she now regretted. It had been a fun night, and she’d only got to bed at—what, one? Maybe five hours ago? No wonder she felt so tired. She needed water, immediately.

She got up, opened the door and padded into the corridor. As she walked through, she heard a rustling and peeked into the living room. In the pale dawn light, she could make out Sean’s shape on the sofa.

Megan’s breath caught in her throat. He was naked, the covers thrown off during the night. Evidently, he’d been a little too drunk to slip on his sweats last night. Naked, and, dear God, hard, and he was touching himself. Her knees almost gave way and she put a hand against the wall to steady herself.

She couldn’t tell if he was fully awake or not, but he was stroking himself, his hand gliding up and down, and she couldn’t tear her eyes away. Here was a sight she’d imagined more times than she cared to remember, Sean naked. Her gaze was drawn inexorably down the hard muscles of his chest and stomach toward his waist, his hips, and finally his hand, fingers wrapped around his erection, stroking it.

Her mind went into overdrive, a myriad of thoughts and images tumbling through, the sexual tension and obsession of the past few weeks finally letting loose. This is wrong, she thought, but oh, so unbelievably arousing, so overwhelmingly sexy. She was reminded of something he’d said in one of their first interviews, about how some of his clients paid him to masturbate over them, and how she’d found that twisted. Now it made complete sense—and God, now she was just like one of his johns, watching him get himself off and being turned on by it. She wondered what, or who, he was thinking of to make him so hard, and hoped it was her.

Megan felt caught in a trap, unable to move, her senses on overload, and while every brain cell screamed at her to get out, step back into the corridor and ignore what she’d just seen, her animal instincts wanted her to move closer. Her body betrayed her. She felt hot and wet and melting to the core of her being, her sex aching for his touch.

Sean arched into his fist with a groan, and an involuntary whimper escaped her.

His hand stopped.

Bracing herself against the wall, Megan forced her gaze up his body toward his face. His eyes were slits, his irises just visible through the lashes. She blushed deeply, the blood rising up her neck and cheeks until she thought she must be scarlet. Neither of them said anything for a few beats. Sean made no effort to cover himself, nor did his erection subside.

Megan’s mouth was even drier than it had been when she woke up. She had to say something. Or walk out. Yes, that was it, she could walk out and they could pretend this had never happened. Except she was still transfixed by Sean’s gaze, and he was not looking as though nothing had happened.

He was, in fact, staring at her, and sucking in his lower lip as he did so. Megan became slowly aware that she wore very little—a strappy tank top and panties, without the sweatpants or the robe she would normally wear around the house in his presence. The thought made her even more aroused.

“I…I’m sorry.” Her voice shook. “I didn’t mean to…”

“C’mere,” he said, and his husky voice was impossible to resist. Megan found she’d walked a couple of paces toward Sean before her conscious brain registered what was happening. She felt like a sleepwalker.

Sean stood and closed the gap between them. He didn’t touch Megan, but waited, his body inches from hers, his cock still erect, his breathing shallow. She could feel his breath on her, the heat of his naked body, and she wanted to scream.

“I can’t do this anymore,” he said, low and rough. “Not when you start acting out my fucking fantasies.”

Megan processed that and realized the already faint likelihood of her walking away had just receded into nothingness. She trembled, her whole body taut in anticipation. She kept expecting his hands, or his mouth, on her, but he didn’t lay a finger on her.

Maybe he was waiting for her to say something or to make the first move. “Were you really thinking about me?” she whispered, locking her eyes on his.

He nodded slowly. “I didn’t even know whether I was asleep and dreaming or awake when I heard you.”

Megan took a deep breath in and exhaled shakily.

“But I don’t want to do this if you…” He looked down, then back up at her eyes again. “Look, I want this and I know you damn well want this, but if you can’t handle it, just tell me now.”

She closed her eyes. Her whole body yearned for him, drawn to him as if to a magnet, an irresistible force. She stretched out her right hand and placed it on his chest, his skin warm under her palm. God, she’d wanted to touch him forever, ever since she saw him that first day on the street and found her body reacting to him automatically. She’d been fighting her desires much too long.

Sean groaned and next thing she knew, his lips were on hers and all her senses focused on that point of contact. He started gently, brushing his mouth against hers, his tongue just touching hers as she opened her lips to his kiss, but within a few seconds the urgency built during their weeks of pent-up desire took over and they kissed ferociously, lips mashing against each other.

He wrapped his arms around her and hugged her into his body. His erection pressed against the thin fabric of her underwear and the heat of it seared her skin. She was weak and wet with desire, and she ground against him as his hands descended down her back and cupped her ass, pulling her in tighter.

Part of her mind yelled at her to stop this—it was what they’d been avoiding all this time, how could she give in now? He was too young, she should know better, what the fuck was she doing? He was a minor, for Christ’s sake, if only for another couple of months. But the rest of her brain and body worked in tandem, whispering a siren song of seduction and surrender, and she didn’t have the physical strength to fight it. Not when Sean’s hands kneaded her flesh, and stroked her, and when his mouth was on hers and moving down her jaw to her neck, his tongue and teeth nibbling and sucking her tender skin. Not when he pressed himself and thrust against her, making her so desperately hot for him that she wasn’t sure they were even going to end up on the couch, let alone her bed, miles away in the other room.

He slipped a finger into the elastic of her panties and she wriggled her ass out of them without a second thought, pulling them off with one hand while the other roamed down his shoulder and back. Nothing mattered any more except they were finally touching and the unbearable sexual frustration was at last getting released.

When Sean cupped her sex and started circling her clit with his finger, Megan let out a moan. He stroked her gently but assuredly as she held onto him, swept away by the waves of sensation coursing through her body. She thought she might come then and there, then he slipped a couple of fingers into her, his thumb still stroking her, and she realized she was going to, very soon.

“You’re so fucking wet,” Sean murmured into her neck as he pushed rhythmically into her. The sound of his voice, combined with the feel of his fingers was enough to topple Megan over the edge as her body erupted in orgasm and she cried out. He smiled against her skin as she clung to him, unable to stand on her own.

He held her close and wrapped his hands around her waist, lifted and spun her around then walked her back toward the couch.

Megan was still in a daze from her orgasm, and the hangover and lack of sleep meant she felt groggy and a little disoriented.

He lowered her onto the couch and braced himself over her, his gaze searching hers hungrily. He looked so fucking beautiful, his hair tumbling messily over his forehead, his eyes dark and demanding and the curve of his lips wet from her kisses.

He held her gaze for a few seconds with a silent question and she nodded. God yes, she wanted him, now more than ever, as if that first taste of pleasure had primed her for more—as if her hunger for him had suddenly grown exponentially. She raised her hand to his cheek and stroked it, her fingers scraping slightly on his stubble, her thumb just touching the corner of his mouth.

He still looked slightly uncertain and Megan thought of their previous encounters, when she’d turned him down or pushed him away. More than a nod was needed. She closed her eyes and pushed past her natural reserve and any residual shame. Dammit, he’d just made her come under his fingers, what the fuck was she being shy about?

“You’re right, I want this,” she said, breathless. Okay, she could say it. “I want you…inside me… Now. Please.” She stopped, listening to her heartbeat and hoping she didn’t sound like a complete fool.

She opened her eyes and, God, the effort had been worth it because the look on his face, surprise and delight and desire all mixed up, was all she could wish for in the eyes of a lover.

He smiled and dipped his head and kissed her very lightly on the mouth, tracing her lips with delicate kisses which left her wanting more.

Her mouth opened despite herself and he attacked her with his tongue, pressing his whole body against her. He kissed her with such passion that she felt light-headed. His hard-on nudged her insistently, rubbing against her thigh.

He stopped kissing her for a few moments as he retrieved a condom from his jeans pocket then he was back, no longer nudging at her thigh but poised over her, grinding against her pussy. She opened up for him and when Sean thrust into her, it was as if all the waiting had been so much foreplay because this was everything she’d ever wanted from sex, and more.

He started slow, holding back and building the pressure with light, controlled strokes, driving Megan into a frenzy until she grabbed his ass with both hands, pulling him deeper inside her.

Her gesture seemed to shatter his self-control and he started really fucking her, hard and fast. His mouth slipped down from hers to her neck, biting her, until she reached her peak again, and much to her surprise, because Megan wasn’t usually a screamer, she swore and cried out, overwhelmed by the strength of the climax which ripped through her.

Sean kept going for a couple of thrusts after she peaked then his whole body went rigid as he came, groaning into her neck He slumped onto her, his heart hammering against her chest.

She wrapped her arms around him and held him to her in a fierce embrace.

“Megan,” he whispered into her ear. The sound of his voice saying her name made her shiver. He pulled back slightly to look at her face, gently brushing the hair from her eyes, and gave her a half-smile which made her heart melt. Then he sighed and dropped his head back into the crook of her neck.

Stroking his back lightly with the tips of her fingers, wanting the moment never to end. Megan drifted in sleepy contentment until she dozed off.

She dreamed of being crushed to death by a pile of blankets her sister was heaping on top of her, all the while telling her to stop being such a baby about it. As her lungs compressed, Megan woke with a gasp to find she really was being crushed. Sean was sound asleep on top of her and his weight pressed her into the couch.

She shook his shoulder. “Off. Now,” she wheezed.

He pressed up onto his elbows and smiled down at her, then lifted his weight onto his arms and rolled to one side. Megan turned so they were spooned together, but the couch wasn’t wide enough for two to cuddle comfortably.

“Want to go to my bed?” she asked through a yawn.

He kissed her shoulder. “You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to hear you say that.”

Megan rose and padded naked and a little self-conscious about it, down the hall toward her room. She was aware of Sean right behind her and hoped her ass didn’t look as fat as she thought it did—well, not fat so much as saggy. She really needed to work out more and tone it up.

“Go ahead,” she said when she reached the open bathroom door. “I have to make a stop first.”

“Me too, when you’re done.”

Megan went into the bathroom, closing the door behind her. The realization of what had happened between them caught up with her. It was a done deal. She couldn’t take it back. She’d ignored all the danger signals and done what she’d promised herself she’d never do. If she went out there right now and told Sean she’d made a mistake and wanted to stop this thing before they went any further, it would only hurt him deeply, make him feel used. Besides, who was she kidding? It wouldn’t be easy for her to step back, either.

She sighed and covered her eyes, rubbing them vigorously with the heels of her palms. God, her headache was back with a vengeance. She got a pair of Advil from the medicine chest. Washing them down with a tall glass of water, she rinsed her hands and face then stared in the mirror a moment, trying to decide what would happen next.

Her dark brown eyes stared back at her, looking as clueless and hung-over as she felt. “Idiot!” she hissed at her reflection before smacking the edge of the sink with her hands and turning to leave the bathroom.

Sean was waiting his turn in the hall, lounging with his back against the wall, his body as relaxed and natural as if he were clothed. While Megan had the repressed desire to cover herself, he walked past her casually with his flaccid penis swaying and a contented, almost smug smile on his face. He gave her butt a little smack as she passed him.

Megan’s room was a disaster as usual and she quickly gathered discarded clothes and threw them in the hamper, stacked some scattered books and newspapers and smoothed the covers on her rumpled bed. Hearing the toilet flush, she leaped onto bed, plumped the pillows and settled against them. Her heart beat wildly against her rib cage like a trapped bird.

The early morning sunlight was trying to work its way through her blinds and the alarm clock showed it was now seven thirty.

As she waited for Sean, Megan felt she was poised at a crossroads. Inviting him to come to her bed added a whole new layer of complexity to their relationship. If she invited him once, he’d soon be sleeping with her all the time. They could never go back to the way they’d been before. They’d be “living together” in the sexual sense of the words.

Then he appeared in her doorway, bathed in the orange glow of the sun shining through her translucent blinds, and she forgot all her fears, doubts and reservations. He was absolutely beautiful, his hair tousled, his body chiseled and solid and his eyes and cock hungry for her again. He moved toward the bed with the grace of a stalking animal, and Megan pulled back the covers to welcome him into her bed.