Chapter Eleven

Megan debated telling James on the phone, then turned up at the bar where he worked at the end of his shift.

He was chatting to the manager, his jacket slung over his shoulder, when she walked in. “Hey Meg! That’s a nice surprise. What’s up?”

“I need to talk to you.” She felt awkward and wished she’d stuck with the phone option.

James looked at her closely but didn’t ask. He waved a vague goodbye to his boss and followed Megan out onto the street.

“Seriously, what is up? You look tense.”

“Nothing, really,” Megan hedged. “I just want to tell you something. Can we go for a drink somewhere? Somewhere that isn’t your workplace?”

They ended up in a sports bar a couple of blocks down, which was loud enough for their conversation to be private, without being too noisy to talk.

“The thing is,” Megan said when she returned from the bar with a couple of beers, “I’m going to take Sean to Thanksgiving at Sasha’s.”

“Yeah? Well I guess he doesn’t have anywhere else to go, so… It’s cool. He’s not such a bad guy, actually. We got along the other night.”

“No, he doesn’t have anywhere to go, but it’s not just that. He’s…actually, he’s coming as my date.” Megan folded her paper napkin, bracing for James’ reaction.

He narrowed his eyes at her in disbelief. “Your date?” The word snapped with a crisp click.

“Yes.”

“As in, the guy you’re fucking?”

Megan breathed in, counted to three and breathed out, willing herself to be calm. “Yes.”

“You’re shitting me. You’re fucking the hustler?” He leaned forward on his folded arms and stared at her, hard.

“Please, James, don’t…” Megan began.

“Don’t what? It’s the truth, right? He’s a whore, or ex-whore, whatever.”

“James…” She clenched the napkin in her hand.

“So do you have some sort of deal? He fucks you in exchange for a roof over his head?” He gestured with his hand, almost knocking over his beer.

“No! Fuck off! It’s not like that! Don’t you dare accuse me of that kind of shit!” Megan’s anger surged, and she fought off an undercurrent of panic. It was bad enough she’d worried about the issue. She hadn’t expected her friends to think her capable of that. Then again, James had his own axe to grind.

“Why not?” he asked. “I mean, the kid’s gay, right? His clients were men?”

“They were, but he isn’t. He’s straight.”

“He’s straight, and he was fucking guys for cash? That’s…fucked up.”

“Oral sex, not fucking.” Megan tossed the crumpled napkin down, furious at herself for feeling she had to clarify what Sean had done, as if the specifics were any of James’ business. “And it was a job, okay, a way to survive. It’s not like there’s a lot of call for heterosexual boys on the streets. You don’t see women cruising to pick up kids.”

“Fuck, I’d rather steal than suck some guy’s dick for cash.” James grimaced in disgust. Megan’s hand itched to slap that look off his face.

“Yeah?” she snapped. “Well try being brought up by a crackhead mom and having to look after yourself on the streets at sixteen. I’d like to see how you’d have survived what Sean went through.”

James shrugged away her accusations. “And now you’re fucking him? That sounds like a great idea. Way to go, Meg.”

“You’re not exactly a font of good advice on relationships yourself.” Megan took a long pull at her beer in an attempt to keep her emotions under control.

“Yeah, well at least I steer clear of actual whores. By the way, should I get tested for diseases?”

“What?” Megan spluttered. “No! If you mean… No. It all happened after that night. Fuck you! You’re just saying that to piss me off.”

“I just hope you guys practice safe sex is all.” The bitterness in James’ voice made Megan cringe. She resisted the urge to accuse him of being jealous because it was so obvious he was. This was going all wrong, and if he was going to act like this on Thanksgiving, there was little point in turning up.

“Look, can we try to keep it civilized at Thanksgiving, at any rate? You said you got along with Sean all right the other night. I know you hate what I’m doing and you’re probably angry because you’re worried about me…”

“And I think you can do a lot better than a fucking whore.”

“James! Don’t call him that!” Her protective instincts took over. She couldn’t stand to hear Sean demeaned like that. But she was supposed to be placating James, so she continued more quietly. “Can you please keep it cool on Thursday? Please?”

He drained his beer, placed the bottle carefully back on the table without looking into her eyes, and got up. “I can’t promise anything. But I’ll try. For you and for Sasha. But if I was doing anything half as stupid as that, you wouldn’t be giving me the benefit of the doubt.”

He stalked off.

Megan watched him go with a sinking feeling. He was absolutely right on that count. If James had been shacking up with an underage prostitute, she wouldn’t have let him get away with it. She dropped her head in her hands and groaned. Perhaps Thanksgiving with her parents would’ve been easier.

 

 

 

On Thursday morning, Sean and Megan dragged themselves out of bed, a difficult task as Sean kept using very convincing arguments with fingers, mouth and tongue to get her to linger between the sheets. They attacked her mom’s famous pumpkin pie recipe. Already, she’d cheated by buying a pie shell and some canned pumpkin puree.

Together they mixed the puree with cream, maple syrup, eggs, spices and flour, filled the shell and put it in the oven. While Megan took a shower and got ready, Sean watched over the baking since the oven was notoriously unreliable. The end result was a surprisingly professional-looking pie.

“I can’t believe we nailed it!” This was definitely the best-looking pie she’d ever made with that recipe and she attributed it largely to Sean’s even-handed measuring and ability to keep an eye on a hot oven while washing up and tidying the kitchen.

She took forever to decide what to wear. Part of her wanted to be gorgeous, glamorous and sexy for Sean and another part urged restraint. She was going to be with some of her oldest friends, and Megan’s natural style was understated. She spent a long time staring at her wardrobe, paralyzed by indecision. Finally she picked two items, a tight black tank top with spaghetti straps and a hint of glitter shimmering through the fabric, and a dark red bias-cut silk skirt, which she loved, but hardly ever wore. She was more a pants than a skirt kind of girl.

She looked at herself in the mirror and ran her hand through her hair. It had grown and needed a good cut. Still, the tousled look worked for her. With a little lipstick, mascara, and smoky eyeshadow, the whole outfit looked good. Not too dressy, not too slutty.

Still in his sweats, Sean appeared behind her in the mirror and appraised her outfit. He scanned up and down her body in a way that made Megan’s mind immediately go dirty places.

He smiled lazily at her. “You’re looking hot.”

She smiled back. “You think?”

He walked a few paces into the room, gaze still on her. “Yeah. You look fucking sexy in a skirt.” His voice dropped low and husky. “Makes me want to lift it, push you against the dresser, bend you over and fuck you.” She could see evidence of his arousal through the loose material of his sweatpants and it made her tingle.

“We haven’t got time.” Megan was breathless despite herself. “And, Sean, we have to get out of the bedroom because otherwise we’re never going to make it anywhere.”

“Okay.” He wrapped his arms around her and nuzzled her neck. “But don’t expect me to behave all the way through the afternoon.”

“I didn’t, anyhow,” she whispered back, surrendering her neck and throat to his kisses. But she broke off after a minute and pulled away before her resolve crumbled. “You have to get dressed and shave off your scruff. It’s a party. I want you to look smooth and sexy and wow the girls.”

“What do you want me to wear?”

“What about your black jeans and dark blue button-down?”

He didn’t have much else available, but that particular combination made him look really hot, the blue of the shirt highlighting his eyes. Megan watched as he stripped, more at ease now with the casual way Sean dealt with nudity. He was never self-conscious. Nakedness just wasn’t an issue with him, and Megan was learning not to let it be an issue with her.

Instead, she enjoyed the show—the sculpted lines of his arms, the muscles playing under his skin as he pulled off his T-shirt, the graceful lines of his back and, as he slipped off his sweats, the tight curves of his ass, on which her gaze lingered despite her determination to get going.

Sean shot her a look over his shoulder, smirking. “Having second thoughts?”

Megan shook her head. “I’ll go get the pie. You just get ready. And stop looking so damn sexy.”

She slipped out of the bedroom and into the kitchen, where the pie had been cooling on a rack, and transferred it to a large plastic container, a present from her mother who’d offered her a whole set the previous Christmas. It was probably the first time she used it, another sign of how her life had changed since Sean had moved in. She never used to cook much for herself, and she wouldn’t have tried anything ambitious for Sasha’s party on her own. She smiled as she busied herself with last minute preparations.

As she checked her watch—it was nearly 1:30—Sean came out of the bathroom, where he’d been shaving. His hair, which was definitely growing longer, was brushed straight, and he was buttoning his shirt. His eyes looked bluer than ever as they sparkled at her. He looked damned good, and Megan wondered if she’d be able to keep her hands off him.

Once more Sean drew her into his embrace and nuzzled her neck. “You sure we have to go to this?”

Megan bit her lip. “Mm. We have to. We made a pie.”

“I can think of other things to put the whipped cream on,” he whispered in her ear, then nipped her lobe. “Other ways to eat the pie, for that matter.”

“Sounds sticky and messy.” She pushed her palm against his chest and looked at him. Despite the glint of arousal in his eyes, she also thought she detected nervousness. “We won’t stay long if you don’t feel comfortable there. Okay?”

He nodded, but his jaw tightened slightly, giving away his apprehension.

The drive to Sasha’s took less than fifteen minutes. When they reached the door of the apartment, Megan’s heart thumped. This was it, the first official outing with Sean as her boyfriend, and she was nervous as hell about her friends’ reactions. She looked up at Sean next to her.

He chewed his lower lip and was bound to feel far more uneasy than she did.

She snuck out her hand and grabbed his, entwining their fingers.

“Whatever happens, we’re together, okay? And these are my friends. They’ll be cool,” she whispered with more conviction than she felt.

Sean squeezed her hand and nodded.

They were the first to arrive. Stevie greeted them at the door, hugging Megan and shaking Sean’s hand before taking the wine from Megan.

Megan watched him closely. Stevie was the only one of the friends present today who hadn’t met Sean before finding out about their relationship. He was also thoughtful, rational, a good judge of character, and his opinion would influence the others. So she was a little apprehensive about his reaction.

“What can I get you guys, some beer? A glass of wine? Anything else?”

“You should try Stevie’s beer. He’s got this real microbrew fetish and always has something new to try out,” Megan told Sean. “But beware of the spiel he’ll try to feed you about the best brewing methods.”

Sean looked at her, the ghost of a smile flitting across his face. “Hey, I’m a guy. I can handle beer talk,” he said, mock-serious. The tension eased in her stomach. This was working. The boys could be cool with each other.

“I’ll go see how Sasha’s doing, then. And Stevie? I’d love a white wine, please. How come James isn’t here yet? He never turns down an occasion to raid your beer cellar before eating.”

As it turned out, Megan discovered in the kitchen that James and his waitress had just called to warn they’d be late due to car trouble. Allegedly, because as Sasha told her while they took out the pumpkin pie and put it on a plate, he’d sounded very out of breath on the phone. She was prepared to bet whatever had been slowing them down wasn’t engine-related.

“You think he called you in mid-fuck?” Megan asked, chuckling.

“I think he was in the car, actually. And I think Ms. Waitress is a pretty limber girl who might just have been giving him a blowjob at that point.”

Megan laughed. “Well, at least he’s bound to be in a good mood when they arrive.”

She was right. When James walked in ten minutes later towing a very pretty, young and remarkably well-endowed blonde behind him, he was in exuberant spirits. “Hey, everybody, meet Kerry!” He kissed Megan and Sasha, hugged Stevie, and nodded briefly at Sean, his expression neutral.

Kerry hugged everyone all around, and kissed Stevie and Sean enthusiastically to their obvious delight.

Megan bit her tongue when she saw Sean’s eyes drawn to Kerry’s chest for at least ten seconds before he snapped them back up. He caught her looking at him and made a sheepish face.

While everyone milled around the living room, pouring drinks and exchanging greetings, Sean pressed close to Megan and whispered in her hair, “Totally fake. I’ll take yours anytime.” His hand brushed against her ass in a lascivious caress that sent messages of lust through her body.

They sat down to eat shortly after. Sasha’s spread was opulent enough to satisfy the most exacting of standards. Megan thought even her mom would have been impressed. She certainly was. The turkey was impressive, and the table was crammed with mounds of mashed potatoes, candied yams, cornbread, several salads, cranberry sauce and pickles.

Sean pulled up a chair directly across from Megan. James’s bimbo sat next to him, flashing him a grin that slightly annoyed Megan. Less so when she felt Sean’s foot slyly rubbing her ankle in a gesture designed to evoke both reassurance and desire.

Conversation flowed around the dinner table, fuelled by alcohol, food, and longstanding friendship. Megan noted with pleasure that Sean sometimes joined in, in his reserved way, and his dry humor struck a chord with her friends. She was especially pleased to see Stevie engage him a couple of times and nod approvingly at her when he caught her watching them. James was less friendly, scowling at Sean occasionally, but managed to hold back from making rude comments.

Kerry was the classic ditzy L.A. blonde, complete with aspirations to make it in the movies and a brain roughly as small as her cup size was large. The guys, of course, cut her plenty of slack. But Megan caught James’s eye during a particularly inane tirade about cosmetic surgery and he looked embarrassed. She might have teased Kerry a little if Sean’s sock-clad foot hadn’t been insistently stroking her inner thigh in the most distracting manner.

“You can’t be serious!” Sasha’s voice rose with indignation. “You think it’s right that teenagers should get breast implants? You don’t think that’s maybe a little premature?”

Sean’s foot slid farther up Megan’s thigh, inhibiting higher brain functions and preventing her from joining in the debate without her voice betraying her. She looked across at him.

His face was impassive, head tilted slightly to the side, as though listening to the conversation, but Megan knew he was completely focused on her right now. His eyes were the only clue to what was happening under the table, the blue edged out by his dilated pupils.

“Well, you know, Sasha, I had these done when I was nineteen. You can’t see the scars. I’ll show you in the bathroom if you want. The surgeon who did them was a real pro. My dad paid for them. He said nothing was too good for his princess. And I haven’t regretted it yet,” Kerry said proudly.

There was a pause as her words sank in. James cringed and poked at his mashed potatoes.

Megan tuned out of the conversation then as Sean’s toe reached her underwear and started pressing against her crotch. She focused all her concentration on keeping her breathing even and not making any noise. She wouldn’t be able to keep it going for long. He pushed against her clit, harder, and she had to bite back a moan. Kerry might be monopolizing the attention right now, but if Megan had an orgasm at the table, she was pretty sure she’d steal the show.

Sean stared at her, lips slightly parted, and when their eyes locked, he smiled crookedly.

Megan kept her gaze on him as she slowly pushed back her chair to give him a chance to pull his foot away unobtrusively. The loss of contact made her want to cry out, but she couldn’t handle the torture anymore. She stood and said in a surprisingly steady voice, “Anyone for coffee?”

In the kitchen, she filled the coffee machine with water and measured out the coffee. A couple of minutes later, Sean appeared in the doorway carrying stacks of plates. He put them on the counter and moved in on her, one arm snaking around her waist, his other hand to the back of her neck. He pulled her in close for a kiss, his mouth hungry on hers and his cock pressing into her crotch. Megan brought her hands up to either side of his face, winding her fingers into his shaggy hair. She moaned softly into his mouth as their tongues entwined, hoping the sound wouldn’t carry to the main room.

They kissed urgently for a couple minutes and only pulled apart when Stevie called out to Sean, “Hey man, want to watch some football while the chicks make the coffee and clear the table? Ow! Jesus, Sash, can’t you take a joke?”

“You into the football?” Megan whispered.

“Not at the moment.” Sean’s hand slipped down to her hip and slid under her skirt. His fingers crept up her thigh, following the trail led by his foot earlier.

Megan’s every pore reacted to him. She was close to letting him fuck her in the kitchen, not caring who walked in.

“Right now I want to fuck you.” His husky voice sent shivers through her body. Her nipples stood erect, pressing against the fabric of her shirt.

Sean’s other hand flicked across her chest, sending fire from her sensitive tits straight down to her sex.

She caught her breath. “Go check out the game and meet me in the back bathroom in ten minutes. Through the main bedroom on the left. I’ll get the coffee done and after that, I don’t give a damn.”

He grinned. “Good thing I came prepared, huh?”

Ten minutes later, the coffee was on the table and Megan was in the master bath, hoping neither of their hosts would feel the need to use it in the near future.

She stood in front of the sink, looking at herself in the mirror. Her face was flushed, her eyes dark and bright, and she felt wired and intensely alive. This was crazy. Any of her close friends could walk in on them, but she didn’t care, as long as Sean showed up.

When he pushed open the door, she tensed. Every nerve ending tingled with anticipation and she felt as though she was poised on the edge of a precipice, ready to take flight or fall.

Sean carefully locked the door behind him, and crushed her in his arms, his hands roaming her back and waist and his mouth and tongue on hers. Their kissing became frantic, and his hands slipped down to her ass, pulling her tighter against his warm, solid body, his erection insistent against her. His mouth slid down her neck, teeth grazing her flesh

She moaned.

“Jesus, Sean, let’s hurry. They’re going to notice we’re missing.”

He lifted his face from her throat with a predatory grin, his eyes inches from hers. “You saying you want a quickie, no fancy shit, no messing around, no foreplay?” Every word felt like he touched her. His voice was so impossibly sexy. Megan felt drugged, woozy with desire, so wet already she knew she wouldn’t need much at all to come.

“Yes.” She slid her hand down between their bodies and palmed the length of his dick through denim, watching as his eyes clouded and his breath caught. She popped the button and unzipped him.

He kissed her again, his tongue plundering her mouth, stealing her breath away. His hands pulled up her skirt and divested her of her panties.

They stood in front of each other, naked from the waist down, and paused for a beat. Sean scanned the bathroom quickly. It was small, and cramped, and the opportunities were limited. He placed his hands at her waist and turned her so she faced the sink.

She watched his face in the mirror. His expression was so concentrated as he parted her legs and ran his hand all the way to her crotch. His fingers caressed her swiftly, dipping into her wetness.

She pushed back against him with a moan. Bending over, Megan braced against the sink.

Sean grabbed her hips, positioned his cock at her entrance and thrust deep and fast. He pistoned his hips, pounding into her from behind. Primitive grunts accompanied every thrust.

Megan turned her mouth into her shoulder to stifle her moans. She gripped the edges of the sink as she was carried on a wave of pleasure that seemed to crest ever higher, triggering spasm after spasm in her. This was so hot, so wild, and so not her. She wanted to scream or sob.

Sean leaned forward and his hand snaked over her hip and onto her clit, rubbing and circling. He continued to slam into her hard and rough. Their harsh breaths and the slap of flesh on flesh were the only sounds in the room.

Megan whimpered as her whole body contracted and released in an amazingly powerful orgasm.

Sean pushed in deeper, two, three, four more times, then both his hands gripped her hips hard. He groaned and came, shaking with the power of his release. He collapsed against her back, panting hard. After a moment, he pulled out carefully.

Megan sighed and dropped to her knees, resting her head on her folded arms on the edge of the sink. The ceramic was cold against her bare arms and the floor hard under her knees, but she didn’t care. Her body was spent and she had to rest.

Sean crouched down with her and wrapped his arms around her midriff, planting a couple of wet kisses on her shoulder. “Jesus, Megan, sex with you is always so…incredible,” he murmured into her ear, his breath tickling her.

She turned her head to kiss him lightly on the lips before pushing herself to her feet. They dressed silently next to each other, and that felt even more intimate than the rushed mutual undressing.

She checked out her face in the mirror. Thankfully, nothing was too out of order. Both of them looked a little tousled and flushed, but nothing that would arouse suspicion, apart from their shared absence over the past quarter of an hour.

“How the fuck are we going to get back to the living room without anyone noticing?” she asked.

Sean smiled and produced a pack of cigarettes from his pocket. “There’s our alibi. I was told to smoke on the fire escape off their bedroom. You were keeping me company.”

Megan beamed. “You’re not just a pretty face, are you?”

Sean raised his eyebrows at her and smiled as he unlocked the door and opened it quietly. The bedroom was thankfully empty. The fire escape was straight ahead. “You’re going to have to join me for a smoke now, though, because I really need one.”

“Okay. But don’t you dare offer me one. And I’ll need to borrow one of Sasha’s sweaters, otherwise they’ll never believe I’ve been out all this time.”

Sean opened the window and went through first before helping her onto the narrow platform. He lit his cigarette and inhaled deeply, then turned to her. “Sasha and Stevie are nice. And they really care for you. But James hates my guts.”

“Has he said anything?”

“Not in so many words. But I can tell he’d like to knock me across the room.”

“He’s jealous,” Megan said. “And protective, and having a difficult time dealing with this. He’ll get there.”

“He better not realize I’ve been fucking you in the bathroom then,” Sean shot back with a sly grin. He looked completely relaxed leaning against the railing, blowing smoke into the chilly afternoon air, squinting at her.

Megan sighed. She felt really good—sexually satisfied, yes, but also warm, happy, and positively glowing. This thing they had going was intense, and wild, and unbelievably erotic but it was something else, too, something more, even if it was too early to put her finger on it.