Chapter Ten

The immediate impact of their falling into bed together didn’t quell the sexual tension that had been stalking them, but fueled it with a vengeance.

They couldn’t keep their hands off each other, Megan discovered as the weekend progressed. Even when they managed to get out of bed, the urge to touch and caress and feel each other was irresistible. Clearly there was some payback for the months of build-up, of “look but don’t touch”, of enforced distance. Now she had a desperate need to touch, smell, taste him at every opportunity, and Sean was just as eager.

He cornered her in the kitchen when she was making a pot of coffee and she felt his hands from behind, running up her leg under her robe, his rough, work-weathered fingers grazing her soft skin in the most arousing manner. Megan caught her breath and moved slightly away from him, but his hand followed her, creeping ever higher. She wriggled a little, only to find his arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her into him. As she relaxed into his embrace, leaning her back against his chest, she realized he was still naked—he was absolutely unselfconscious about nudity, unlike her—and the thrill of the feel of his warm body against hers was enough to make her moan. He was hard again, with the amazing stamina of his seventeen years.

“I can’t believe you still have energy.” She sighed. “You make me feel like an old lady.”

He nuzzled her neck in answer, his mouth dropping small kisses toward her throat.

“A beautiful old lady,” he murmured. “A really hot, sexy, gorgeous old lady.”

Megan shivered as his hands slipped around to her front, parting her robe and tangling in her curls. He stroked her gently at first, one finger tracing her labia, then he became more precise and she gave up all pretence of dealing with the coffee. She pressed against his body, head tipped back, her throat exposed to his kisses.

“Hang on.” Suddenly his hands were on her hips, picking her up, turning her around and sitting her on the counter, facing him. Megan was disoriented at the sudden change of position. Sean’s eyes were predatory as a jungle cat as his hands parted her legs. A surge of residual modesty kept her legs together, then lust won and she let him open her to his gaze. He stood there for a few beats looking at her, which was both embarrassing and possibly the hottest thing that had ever happened to her.

He dropped to his knees on the cold, tiled floor and pulled her legs forward slightly so she was on the edge of the counter. Megan had to brace herself on her arms not to fall back. His hot breath on her groin was intensely arousing, full of exciting promise. Would he live up to his nickname? If his proficiency with men translated across the gender divide, it meant he was also more attuned to women’s needs. Then his tongue touched her clit, and she gasped.

Maybe it was his skill or maybe because she was so completely in lust, but every stroke of his tongue on her was like a lick of fire building up to a deep burn in her core. She moaned and thrust against his mouth, wanting more.

Sean built a rhythm, his hands on her thighs holding her steady. He sucked on her clit, licked her, flicked his tongue at her relentlessly, until Megan let her body take over, surging on a wave of pleasure that tore a sob from her and left her breathless and dazed, almost falling off the counter.

“Holy fuck,” she breathed out when she’d recovered enough to speak. “No wonder they called you Mouth.” She immediately felt stupid and guilty for bringing up his past in this context. But Sean didn’t seem to mind. He pushed himself up from his kneeling position and embraced her.

“It’s not difficult with you, anyhow. You come easy.” He smirked when he released her.

Megan felt compelled to deny it, but stopped before she made a complete fool of herself. She did, with him. Easy and often. “What about you?” she whispered, looking at his jutting erection.

“Try me,” Sean said with a laugh.

So she did. First with roaming hands. When she’d grasped him and gotten him to stumble and fall back against the fridge door, his dick surrendered to her fingers and she stroked him vigorously.

He closed his eyes and let his hips rock in sync with her hand.

She wanted more and slowly knelt down at his feet, her gaze fixed on his straining cock. She was suddenly horribly shy at the thought her skills wouldn’t measure up to his experience. She’d always considered herself an adequate lover, but what if she wasn’t? Megan decided not to think too much about it or she’d get nowhere. She could make up for any shortcomings by her passion and enthusiasm. Her tongue snaked around the head of his dick and she relished the groan Sean emitted in response.

Until he pushed her back.

“What?” She looked up at him, cheeks burning. Was her technique that bad?

“I… Maybe you want to use a condom?”

All of a sudden, Megan felt completely out of her element. She sat back on her heels. “You think?”

Sean shrugged. “I’m clean, but I haven’t got any proof of it.”

“Proof?”

“I mean, you’ve only got my word for it. I haven’t had a test for a while. But the last time I had sex, I used a condom. I always do. And I never gave head without. So…”

“I…” Megan was at a loss for words. Condoms for sex, yes, but somehow she’d so far lived in a world where oral sex was still flesh-to-flesh. She had no idea what to say or how to react.

Sean sensed her discomfort and extended his hand to her. “I’m sorry. I freaked you out,” he said gently.

He was amazingly laid-back for a guy who, a few seconds ago, had been expecting a blowjob. Most men would be so focused on their own needs, they wouldn’t give a rat’s ass about her wellbeing. It said a lot about both his control over his body and his sensitivity toward her. She took his hand and he pulled her up. Stepping into his arms, she rested her forehead against his chest.

“I don’t really know what to do. I mean, I trust you, so if you tell me you’re clean, I’ll go with it.”

“As far as I know, I’m okay, and I checked regularly.” Sean stroked her hair. “But…you know you can never be a hundred percent sure. You get fluke cases and…”

“Well, I guess I can take a chance,” Megan murmured. She looked at him to find him staring into the distance. She had no idea what he was thinking, but was willing to bet it wasn’t happy memories.

She cleared her throat. “How…if it’s not rude to ask, how many people have you slept with? I mean girls, you know, not for work…” She trailed off, embarrassed.

The corner of his mouth twitched and he concentrated for a moment, but didn’t answer immediately. “Girls? I guess…with you that makes about twenty.” He looked her straight in the eye, and there was a flash of cynicism there. “Not many compared to the number of johns I sucked off. That probably runs into three figures. I didn’t keep count. What about you?”

Megan felt the now-familiar blush rising on her face. No matter what, he got under her skin. And the thought of all those men made her distinctly uncomfortable. Not to mention it brought back all the reasons she wasn’t going to sleep with him in the first place, before she got swept up into events beyond her control. Because that was exactly what Friday night had been—beyond her control.

“Um…about half as much as you,” she said, breaking eye contact. “And a couple of handjobs in high school, if you really want to know everything.”

Sean chuckled. He still had her hand in his and his thumb made gentle circles on her palm.

“Listen, I’m sorry I fucked up the mood here. I didn’t mean to put you on the spot.”

“No, you’re right. Thank you for telling me, I guess. But no, I think…I don’t want to use a condom.”

He hugged her closer, pulling her against him and enfolding her in a bear hug. It was a close-up, full body contact hug, which left her in no doubt about his further intentions. Get over it, she chided herself, and get back down to business.

“So, I guess you haven’t had an unprotected blowjob for a while, then?”

Sean grinned. “You could say that, yeah.”

“Well, just as long as you don’t criticize my technique.”

He held her gaze as she slowly knelt back down on the cold floor and took him in her mouth.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he whispered.

 

 

 

When Sean dragged in through the door Monday evening covered in plaster dust from head to foot, Megan could tell he was exhausted.

He unlaced his work boots in the tiny foyer. “Sorry about the mess. I’ll clean it up.”

She stood in the doorway of the kitchen with a spatula in one hand, watching him. “Don’t worry about it. If you want to strip your stuff off and leave it there, I’ll take it right down to the laundry room.”

“Thanks.” He took off his button-down shirt, peeled off his undershirt, then unfastened his jeans and slid them over his hips. Megan looked away. This sex between them was still too new for her to feel comfortable watching him strip. Even though they’d spent the weekend doing practically nothing but having sex, today, after being apart from him all day, she was back to feeling a little shy. Besides which, all of those logical reasons for not taking Sean as a lover were back and pricking at her conscience. She returned to her cooking, listening to the rustling his clothes made as he piled them on the floor. Then she heard him pass by the kitchen on his way to the bathroom and shortly afterward the shower went on.

Megan turned down the heat on the stove, gathered together some of her own clothing that needed laundering and collected Sean’s sweaty work clothes. A puff of dust rose as she picked them up and added them to the basket. She took the clothes downstairs to the communal laundry and started several small loads.

When she returned to the apartment, she noticed his work boots were no longer lying in the foyer and the tiles of the front hall had been wiped clean of dust. Sean sat on the couch in a pair of jeans and T-shirt, hair damp, hand wrapped around a bottle of beer, watching TV. He looked up and smiled at her. “Thanks for washing my clothes. They were pretty trashed. Drywalling.”

“What do you do when you put up drywall?” She perched on an arm of the sofa.

“Unload the sheets from the truck. Take them to whatever room we’re working on. Hold them in place while Chuck nails them with the gun. Ceilings are the worst. My arms are killing me. But the messy part is sanding the seams after they’ve been mudded. I got to do some of that this afternoon.”

“Well, you must be hungry. Dinner’s almost ready.” She got up to go to the kitchen and check.

He leaned forward and grabbed her hand, pulling her down on the couch beside him. “It can wait.” He wrapped a hand around the back of her neck and gathered her to him for a kiss. His mouth tasted like toothpaste and beer, a surprisingly erotic combination.

Megan closed her eyes and relaxed into his embrace, kissing him back eagerly.

They made out for several minutes, then she pushed against his chest. “No. Stop. I have to check the dinner before it burns.” She laughed as she wiggled out of his grasp and headed for the kitchen.

She felt domestic setting two places at the table, serving up two plates of food and calling Sean to come and eat. It was gratifying to see his appreciation of her cooking as he wolfed down several servings. Although maybe her grilled chicken wasn’t so much delectable as he was simply hungry, she thought as she chewed a mouthful of the tough, overcooked meat.

After the meal, Sean helped clear the table, and as he placed the dirty dishes on the counter, he stopped to rub his shoulder. Impulsively, she took over the massage, kneading her thumbs deeply into the backs of his shoulders and working toward the tendons of his neck. Sean groaned his appreciation, dropping his head forward a little so she could rub his neck.

“God, that’s good. Thanks.”

Megan smoothed her hands up and down the tops of his shoulders a few times then said, “I have, uh, massage oil if you want me to really go to work on you.”

He half turned and looked at her over his shoulder with eyebrows raised. “Yeah?”

She smiled and lowered her eyelids seductively. “Yeah. Leave the dishes and go lie down. I’ll move the laundry along and meet you there in a few minutes.”

When she returned to the apartment this time, Sean was not on the couch. It made her stomach flutter to know he waited for her in her bed, probably naked and if not naked yet, soon to be. She noticed as she passed the kitchen he’d washed and stacked the dishes and wiped down the table and she shook her head in disbelief. She really couldn’t ask for a better houseguest.

Entering her dimly lit room, she saw Sean sprawled across her bed, arms behind his head, gazing at her with a flirtatious smirk. He was entirely nude.

Megan dipped her head to hide her blush. She was determined not to let him know how he affected her. He was so cool and casual about his body, she wanted to convince him she was just as relaxed. She moved around the room lighting candles and went to her closet to dig up the massage oil she hadn’t used for a while. She approached the bed and set the bottle on the nightstand.

Sean’s eyes glowed in the flickering candlelight as he watched her.

“Okay, this is a therapeutic massage,” she informed him, standing by the bedside with arms crossed. “Nothing sexy about it. It’s for your sore back muscles, so roll over.”

Wordlessly, Sean followed her command, lying face down on the bed.

She straddled his body, fully clothed to prevent herself from becoming distracted and started on his scalp, running her hands through his hair, gently kneading with her fingertips from the crown of his head down to his neck. His hair felt soft and thick under her hands.

She uncapped the oil and poured some into her palm, warming it before applying it to his skin. Working the tight muscles that extended from neck through shoulders, she pulled the tension out and away. Her stroking hands over his shoulders and upper back elicited another moan of pleasure from him.

“Good, huh?” she asked.

“Mm.”

She put her weight into it as she massaged the muscle groups in his back, sometimes pressing deep then easing off and releasing the tension through soft, slow strokes up and down his bare skin. The oil warmed under her hands, releasing its light sandalwood scent.

Megan worked her way down his lower back and onto his rear, continuing to knead and press his flesh firmly.

Sean shifted restively underneath her and started to roll over and reach for her.

She smacked his butt. “I’m not finished. Remember, this is therapy, not foreplay.”

He chuckled into his pillow and let her carry on with her work. She massaged all the way down each leg, manipulating the muscles of his thighs and calves. When she reached his feet, she pressed and probed the arches and heels and each toe as he made more approving noises in his throat. She ended by tickling the bottoms of his feet and he jerked away from her grasp.

Megan laughed and moved back up his body, straddling him again. Now she worked his aching biceps and gave his arms and hands the same treatment as his legs and feet. When she’d finished down to the last finger and after she’d stroked her hands up and down his arms a few times, she draped herself full length on top of him and nuzzled her face into the side of his neck behind his ear.

“Good?”

He murmured, “Unbelievable. Nobody ever gave me a massage before. I think it’s better than sex.”

“As good as, anyway.” She sucked his earlobe into her mouth for a moment then kissed her way down his jaw and neck. He stretched luxuriously as a cat underneath her.

“You want one, too?” He spoke through a yawn.

“Some other time. Just relax now.” She closed her eyes and snuggled on top of him, her head resting between his shoulder blades, and in a few seconds she could tell he’d fallen asleep by his deep, steady breathing.

Megan rolled off Sean to lay beside him, watching him sleep. His hair was messy from the scalp massage and it was getting long again in back, curling up a little at the base of his neck. She couldn’t resist touching the soft strands, and he shifted in his sleep. His eyebrows were the same sandy color as his hair and they suddenly knit into a frown then relaxed. She wondered what he was dreaming. She missed seeing the blue, ever-changing eyes, but his eyelashes were almost as pretty resting in two perfect crescents against his cheeks. His nose was strong and prominent and beneath its masculinity, his bowed upper lip and full lower one looked feminine in contrast. God, his mouth was so kissable. She was tempted to lean over and take a taste, but didn’t want to wake him.

She leaned against her hand and examined his body without fear of him catching her at it. He was beautiful, his well-muscled flesh covered by smooth, unblemished skin. Except on this close examination, she realized it was scarred here and there. A long white, jagged scar marked his forearm and a short ridged pucker on the side of his stomach. The top of one shoulder had a mass of scar tissue the size of her palm. She wondered what accidents, injuries or violence had caused the various wounds and if he would ever share the stories with her.

She was surprised he had no tattoos or piercings anywhere she could see. She’d assumed he would, but when she thought about it, realized he wouldn’t waste his money on a useless expense like body art.

After all of the months of wanting him and resisting desire, she couldn’t believe he was here now in her bed, sleeping naked and vulnerable and all hers to touch and hold and have.

Amazing and unbelievable.

 

 

 

On Friday, Sasha emailed Megan first thing to summon her to a girls’ night out that evening. Stevie was out of town for the weekend on some business trip, so they could hit a bar then go back to Sasha’s for a late night drink and a chat. It was a ritual the two of them went through a few times a year and a rare opportunity for Megan to be a girl’s girl. She always hung around with guys and it made a nice change now and then to talk fashion, boys, and cute asses with a girlfriend.

They started off slow at a bar downtown, near where Sasha worked, but Megan kept it under control because she was driving. At ten, Sasha suggested the pair of them go back to her apartment for a bottle of wine and a bite to eat as well as some more cozy girl talk. They picked up some Chinese takeout on the way home and a couple of bottles of chardonnay. Megan dug into the kung-po chicken the minute they hit the kitchen, while Sasha opened the wine. Megan was starving these days, and she wondered how much of it had to do with all the sex she was having.

When the food was dispatched, they moved to the living room, Sasha keeping up a steady stream of chatter about work, the colleagues she liked, this one girl who was a bitch, and how advertising was full of flakes. Megan listened and poured them each another glass of chardonnay. God, it had been a while since she and Sasha spent an evening together without the guys. Sometimes she almost forgot how much fun Sasha was when she wasn’t busy being annoyed at Stevie.

“So, come on, Megan, enough of my bullshit,” Sasha said. “What’s been happening in your sex life? I mean, you know how dull mine is, what with all the working until two a.m. and weekends that Stevie’s doing. I swear I should take a lover. He’d never notice.”

“You? Cheating on Stevie? That’d be the day.” Megan laughed. “I mean, not that you couldn’t find a lover easily if you did want to.”

“You say that, Meg, but you know, I’ve had offers…”

“Exactly, you have offers, you pass. You stay faithful to Stevie. Come on, Sash, it was the same at school. Otherwise, you would’ve slept with Mark Riddell. He was cute.”

“I can’t believe you’re throwing Mark in my face again. You must still be jealous… Anyhow, you’re sidestepping my question, what’s been up with you?”

“Oh, you know. Nothing much.” She took another long gulp of white wine.

“Nothing, really?”

Megan avoided her gaze.

“Do you and James still… get it on now and then?” Sasha asked, and Megan seized the opportunity.

“Sometimes. Not that long ago, actually.”

“Oh.” Sasha’s mouth dropped slightly open. “I was joking. You guys really still sleep together?”

“Come on, Sash, don’t be such a prude. Yes, we do. Once in a while. He never has any long-term girlfriends, and you know I don’t do boyfriends these days, so…”

“Yeah. I just thought… I mean, why don’t you guys go out together? Remind me.”

“Because we’d kill each other inside a week, that’s why. And you totally know that. Can you imagine us as a couple?”

Sasha laughed and swigged from her glass. “Well, you should consider it. You’re looking happier today than I’ve seen you in a while. If sleeping with James puts that kind of smile on your face, then you should do it more often.”

Megan bent her head down toward her wineglass in an attempt to keep her face hidden. She kept forgetting how perceptive Sasha was, how observant.

“No, it’s not just that. Work’s going well at the moment, you know. I got my piece published, and Rossi’s going to give me more assignments. That’s why I’m happy.”

“Nuh-huh,” said Sasha. “That’s not a work face you’ve got on. It’s an ‘I’m getting some’ face. I’m glad you said you’ve been sleeping with James, though, because I was seriously beginning to wonder about you and Sean.”

Megan choked mid-mouthful and nearly inhaled the wine. “You what?” she spluttered, summoning as much indignation as she could muster. “You’re completely crazy.” But she couldn’t bring herself to look Sasha in the eye. She knocked her glass over accidentally on purpose so she could get up and fetch some paper towels to mop up the spill.

“Just so you know,” Sasha said when Megan walked back in with a handful of towels, “I was almost ready to believe you until you knocked the glass over.”

Megan sat down heavily, the bunched-up towels in her hand. “Oh, fuck.”

“You really are, aren’t you?” Sasha put down her glass and wrapped her hands around her knees, leaning slightly forward toward Megan.

Megan grimaced. “Yeah, okay. I am sleeping with Sean. Fuck it, Sasha, you cannot tell the guys. Stevie hasn’t even met him and he already wants to strangle him, and James—oh, Christ, James will strangle me.”

“Oh, God, I knew this was going to happen.”

“You did?”

“The sexual chemistry with this guy… I don’t know. I wasn’t really getting a gay vibe off him. And the way you guys looked at each other at the bar that night we went out was steamy! Oh, but Megan, do you really know what you’re doing?”

“I know you already think I’m crazy to have taken him in, but…”

Sasha waved her down. “Yes, well, you know how I felt about that. Moving in with a street hustler? Most stupid thing ever. And I was wrong. He didn’t try to rob you and strangle you in your bed. But sleeping with him? Getting involved with him?”

“I know. But he’s… He’s not a kid. He really isn’t. And he’s not as fucked up as you’d expect, either. He’s just a young—man trying to get his life together and we kind of, you know, click together.”

“He’s a boy and it’s statutory rape,” Sasha said flatly.

Megan groaned and dropped her head into her hands. “You make it sound so…wrong. Listen, I know it’s wrong. But it also feels right. And he’s almost eighteen, anyhow, so no, it wouldn’t count as statutory rape—please, give me a break here. I feel guilty enough as it is.” She knew how hollow and fake her arguments sounded now she was serving them up to someone else. But she also knew nothing was going to stop her from sleeping with Sean. Nothing. She’d already lost that fight.

Sasha frowned. “You are just unbelievable. Is the sex worth it, at least?”

“Oh, Sasha, you have no idea,” Megan answered truthfully.

Sasha snorted into her wine glass. “That amazing, huh?”

Megan looked down at her hands, torn between her natural reserve and a desire to share, fuelled by the fact she hadn’t been able to talk about Sean to anyone and by the wine, which always made her more talkative. “Honestly, I’ve never experienced anything like that in bed. We just… I don’t know. The chemistry is out of this world and he’s fantastic. Unbelievably fantastic.”

She smiled at Sasha, feeling suddenly shy. “I didn’t know sex could be like that. And I’ve had, you know, my fair share of good sex. But this is…” She trailed off.

Sasha leaned back against the chair and closed her eyes. “Okay, enough. Because he’s already pretty hot and if you keep going on like that, I may try to jump his bones next time I see him.”

Megan smirked. “Hey, keep your filthy paws off him.”

“That reminds me. You guys are coming to Thanksgiving at my house next Thursday, aren’t you?”

Megan cut her off. “Yes. I already told my mom I wasn’t coming home. She wasn’t very happy. But I wouldn’t miss Thanksgiving with you guys for the world. What do you want us to bring?”

“What can you offer?” Sasha asked, reaching over for the bottle of wine and pouring another couple of glasses.

Megan picked up her glass and considered it thoughtfully.

“I can try my mom’s pumpkin pie. If it works out, it’s great. And if it doesn’t, I’ll buy one on the way.”

“Good enough for me,” Sasha said. She raised her glass.

“To pumpkin pie!”

“To pumpkin pie,” Megan repeated. “And to Thanksgiving with friends. Think I should tell the guys about Sean before we turn up?”

Sasha groaned. “Yes. You definitely should. I’ll do you a favor and tell Stevie. But you have to tell James.”