~Chase~
One hour and three more orgasms later, Maura simply falls asleep, snoring softly, as if her body is saying enough.
Nine orgasms in the span of a couple of hours isn’t anything to sneeze at. I’m exhausted too, and under normal circumstances, I would simply leave.
Hell, I would have left an hour ago, birthday or not.
But I’ve come to realize that whatever this is that’s happening with Maura isn’t normal circumstances. After each encounter with her, she stubbornly insists that it won’t happen again, but then here we are, fucking like our lives depend on it.
The sex is amazing. Maybe the best I’ve had. But that’s not the only reason that I can’t keep my hands off of her. Her response to me, the way her skin feels, the sounds she makes, all make me ache for more of her.
Not to mention her sassy mouth. She’s clever. She’s intelligent.
And she doesn’t take any shit from me.
She turns away from me in her sleep, murmuring words I can’t understand. I roll away and pull my clothes on, then tuck the covers around her and kiss her forehead before letting myself out of her house.
I never stay the night. Ever. I don’t think I’ve ever slept with a woman. It’s never interested me.
But this time, with this woman, I would rather stay and hold her. It’s getting harder and harder to walk away from her each time I see her, and I’m not entirely sure what to do about that.
This is uncharted territory for me. She won’t let me take her out on dates. I don’t think she’s playing hard to get, or any other games with me for that matter.
I shake my head and merge onto the freeway, headed toward home, and plan what I’m going to say to Mac when I see him in the morning.
* * * *
“Are you going to shoot the ball or just stand there looking ridiculous?” Mac asks me the next morning. We meet every Sunday for a round of basketball. We’ve been doing this since we were kids.
“Sorry. Preoccupied.”
“With a sexy little blonde?”
“You’re married. I don’t think you’re supposed to point out that women who aren’t your wife are sexy.”
“I’m not blind or dead,” he says with a laugh. “You haven’t said much about her.”
He steals the ball from me and runs it to the basket for a layup, sinking it for two.
“Not much to say.”
“Still boning her?”
“Boning?”
“I’m sure you’re familiar with the term,” he says and props the ball on his hip, breathing hard.
“We are still having sex.”
“That’s it?”
“What do you mean?”
He rolls his eyes and dribbles the ball for a moment. “Not dating her or anything? Just fucking?”
Why does it piss me off when he cheapens what Maura and I have? It shouldn’t. That is all we do.
But it does piss me off, damn it.
“I’ve asked her out.”
“Once?”
“Well, technically four or five times, but only once since we’ve been…boning.”
He stares at me for a moment, as if I just said I was joining the Nazis, and then he breaks out into uncontrollable laughter. He drops the ball, which bounces over under the basket, and has to bend at the waist, propping himself on his knees.
“Real mature, man.” I roll my eyes.
“I’m sorry,” he says when he can catch his breath. “It’s just, girls never turn you down, and now this one has, and you actually want to date her.”
“Thanks for the recap.”
“But she keeps telling you no.”
“I’m aware.” I narrow my eyes, not finding this funny in the least.
“Okay. I’m done.” He wipes his eyes and continues to chuckle. “What is it about this woman that makes her different?”
“She’s not clingy. Not at all. And she bickers with me.”
“She doesn’t just give you your way,” he says with a nod.
“No. She makes me work for it.”
“Good for her,” he replies. “I like her now, too.”
“She’s stubborn and smart. So fucking smart.” I shake my head and pace around the court. “I want to spend time with her. I don’t really know her very well. I know how to get her off, about fifty different ways, but I don’t know anything about her childhood, or why she chose to be a teacher, or even what her favorite pizza is.”
“Fucking hell, you’re falling for this girl.”
I shrug, wanting to deny it, but Mac is the one person in this world that I can be brutally honest with.
“I don’t know.” I rub my hands over my face in frustration. “I don’t know what I feel, or what I want from her. But I want more than what she’s been giving me.”
“I think this is the first time that I can remember that you’ve been interested in more than sex from a woman,” Mac says, totally sober now. “I think you need to ask her out again, and this time, don’t make it flippant. Talk to her, tell her that you’d like to spend some time with her that doesn’t include one or both of you getting naked.”
“Well, let’s not go crazy. We can get naked after the date.”
He laughs, and then nods. “True. Ask her again.”
“She’ll probably say no,” I reply. “I don’t think she wants to see me.”
“If she didn’t want to see you, she wouldn’t have fucked you after the first time. There’s chemistry there, and she likes you.”
“Are Kat’s psychology skills rubbing off on you?” I ask, lightening the mood.
“Maybe. You could talk to Kat about this.”
“I don’t think we’re there yet,” I say and retrieve the ball from the ground. “Let’s play.”
But just as we’re about to start again, my phone rings.
“Hello?”
“Hey,” Maura says into my ear, making me immediately grin.
“Hey, yourself.”
Mac makes obscene gestures, and I wave him off and turn my back on him.
“So, I still have your shirt,” she says, bypassing any small-talk bullshit. “You didn’t take it with you either time you’ve been here recently.”
“I forgot about it,” I say honestly.
“So, does that mean that it’s mine now?” Her tone is light and teasing. “Like, have I inherited it?”
“No way. That’s an expensive shirt.” I smirk. Who gives a fuck about the shirt?
“I didn’t realize it was so important,” she says. “You’re welcome to come get it.”
“I have a better idea. Come to my place for dinner tonight.”
She’s quiet for a long moment.
“Maura?”
“I’m here. I can just drop the shirt off.”
“Stay for dinner.” It’s not a question. “I’m a relatively good cook. That’ll be my payment to you for keeping my shirt safe.”
She chuckles, and electricity shoots straight to my dick. What is it about this woman?
“Okay. What time should I come over?”
“Six.”
“What can I bring?”
“Just my shirt.”
I end the call and glance over at Mac, who wipes an imaginary tear from the corner of his eye.
“I’m so proud of you.”
“Shut up and shoot the ball.”