No matter what, I always compared men to Alex.
No matter how hard I tried to push him away, he remained hopelessly ingrained in the fabric of my mind. His appearance, his personality, his very presence… Alex was the threshold.
Could anybody’s skin be as flawless? And even if it came close, would it be poured over a body as perfect? Would he be bombastic, but charming, like Alex was? Or would he be meek and docile, the kind of man that made me want to be an overbearing bitch, just because I could? Would he light up a room, and make everybody, male and female alike, gravitate toward his energy? Or would he shrink into a corner, with an untouched glass of champagne, speaking only to me because he “didn’t know anybody”?
Would he fuck my assistant, like Alex did?
I took a deep breath, and stopped just short of scrubbing a hand over my face, remembering the hour I’d spent in Andrea’s bathroom getting my makeup and hair done. Both beauty enhancements were more for my benefit than my date’s – at least according to Andrea. “When you look good, you’ll feel good.” That’s what she’d said to convince me, and if all it took was an hour of my ass going numb on a hard barstool to feel better, I was down.
Update: I didn’t feel better.
And the fact that my date was running behind didn’t make it any better.
He’d sent a text, and even called too, doing all the right things he was supposed to. “In a cab, stuck in traffic behind an accident,” he’d explained, and in a city like this… I understood. I wanted to leave, but I understood.
Andrea’s terse, five-word text, “Bitch you’d better not leave,” kept me rooted at the bar, waiting. I would have preferred to just reschedule, grab take-out tacos from the place next door, go home to the same tiny apartment that had been my refuge when I first found out about Alex. But this was healthier. This was normal, this was what people did after a divorce.
I scratched absently at the faint line that still circled my ring finger, letting out a harsh, quiet laugh. Dating. Just six years with Alex, only four of them as his wife, and dating felt like a foreign word. It didn’t even sound right in my head. Like, me, dating? Why would I do such a thing, what would my husband think?
I no longer had a husband.
Another heavy sigh escaped my lips as I reached for the watered down Tom Collins I’d ordered when I first sat down. One would think that six months after finalizing a relatively pain-free divorce, I’d be over it. Let me rephrase: I wish I would hurry up and get over it. Alex and I had no kids, we didn’t share finances, and our apartment was leased.
Alex, among other things, was a smart man. Therefore, in a year or two, I would probably find it hilariously funny that the revelation of his betrayal happened in such a soap opera-ish manner. I go on a business trip, come back early, go to our place, and bam, there he is, gleefully fucking my assistant.
Maybe he wanted me to know, because why else would he choose our home for his little tryst? He and his whole group of too-pretty, bachelor friends thought they were God’s gift to women – surely one of them could have spared a bed, or the floor, wherever. Instead, he was screwing her on my Pima sheets, like he didn’t have any fucking manners.
I didn’t think twice about throwing my hot caramel latte on them, since the sheets were ruined now anyway. That felt good, but somehow, the second cup – black with three sugars, the one I’d gotten for him – felt even better. Oh, and the muffins! I actually do crack a smile when I remember myself pelting them with warm cinnamon muffins from the bakery down the street until I ran out, and Alex collected himself enough to keep me from running after Vicki.
A fucking white girl!
I still can’t put into words why that mattered, but it did. She wasn’t cuter than, or even as cute as me, and that mattered too. He swore it was just about sex, which somehow… mattered the least. I didn’t care about his reasons. Maybe I didn’t really love him enough, because staying and working it out didn’t even cross my mind.
Maybe everybody else knew something I didn’t, because my praying momma didn’t even lecture me about “letting the devil in my marriage”. She didn’t encourage prayer and counseling, she didn’t tell me to go talk to the pastor. She nodded, and listened, and when she got in her car to leave, I could have sworn she had a little private praise break, complete with shouting, as I watched through the window.
I lifted my drink to my lips and sipped, grateful for the smooth gin to calm my nerves. I was going to give this guy maybe ten more minutes, and then I was leaving. Andrea would probably curse me out, but I wasn’t trying to be rude. It was just that it was – I turned on my phone screen to check the time – nine o’clock, on a Friday, and the chic little restaurant was starting to fill up with the nightlife crowd.
I had no interest in sitting here alone, nursing my drink, fending off unwanted advances. That sounds so… horribly vain, but seriously. No, I didn’t want to be joined for a drink, no, I didn’t think I’d been stood up, and no, I didn’t want “come sit next to a real man”. I barely wanted to be here now, but Andrea’s boyfriend had a friend, and they both swore he was nice, and long story short, here I was, on a blind date.
And he was late.
My drink was out of Tom and Collins, and I was down to nothing but ice, a maraschino cherry, and the cutesy lemon slice the bartender had used as a garnish. As if I knew how to date, I had a rule about drinks – I could only have one. Mostly because I needed all my inhibitions, and didn’t want alcohol taking them away. Just one little cocktail, enough to soothe the frayed edges of my nerves, keep me from stumbling over my words, or committing the first-date sin of talking about Alex.
“Excuse me, Jada?”
I nearly choked on the cherry I’d popped into my mouth at the sound of a male voice just behind me. My eyes went big, but I composed myself quickly, then turned on my barstool to face… him.
“Yes?” I whispered, but didn’t know why I was whispering. He leaned in a little closer, his smile pleasant, but not flirty, and it took me a few embarrassing seconds too long to realize he hadn’t heard me over the cacophony of other conversations happening around us.
“Yes,” I said again, a little louder. I even nodded, to make sure. “I’m Jada.”
His smile warmed then, turning a handsome-enough face up a new notches. He extended a hand, and I accepted, swallowing hard once we were touching. His palm was warm, and just a little bit rough as it enveloped mine. “I’m Trevor,” he said, leaning in to speak close to my ear. “I’m sorry I’m so late. Nice to meet you.”
“And you as well.” I returned his smile with one of my own, but it felt awkward on my face, like I was trying too hard. I ran my tongue of my lips, wiping that smile away to try again, and the second time, I settled into small grin that felt a lot better.
Trevor didn’t seem to mind. He was subtle about it, but I’d already felt the heat of his gaze as his eyes roamed my face and body, in my seated position. I wasn’t scandalized, or offended, but I did find myself suddenly, strangely… nervous.
Andrea had refused to give me his name, because she didn’t want me to look him up. We both knew I would pick him apart before the actual date even came, and she wanted me to give him a supposedly “fair shot”. From that, I built a picture of him in my mind, a man with a great personality, but looked like he was created in a lab from spare parts.
But I came anyway. Even with that in my mind, I came on the date, and the real Trevor felt like a reward for not being shallow. Deep brown skin, strong angled jaw, neatly trimmed goatee, sleepy eyes – a nice looking man, but then… that smile.
He leaned closed to me again, anchoring a hand at the small of my back. “I’ve never been here before, didn’t realize it would be so loud,” he said, his eyes brimming with apology. “This is what I get for not checking this place out beforehand.”
“It’s fine,” I said, telling myself not to lean into his hand. “I go to the place next door all the time, and I kept telling myself I was going to check this one out. And now I am.”
Trevor’s face broke into another smile. “Yes, you are. But… I’d like to be able to talk to you without screaming over everybody else… if that’s okay?”
“Um… what else did you have in mind?”
He shrugged. “How about the place next door? You said you go there often, right?”
“I do, but… it’s tacos,” I said, wrinkling my nose. “Messy, delicious tacos.”
“I like tacos.”
I grinned. “Okay, but this beautiful sweater you’re wearing may not.”
“Wow,” he said, drawing his head back. “So you think I can’t eat tacos without messing up my clothes?”
“No, I think I can’t eat tacos without messing up my clothes,” I laughed.
“Then we’ll get plenty of napkins.” A moment later, his hand was threaded through mine, and he squeezed my fingers. “Come on, lets go.”
“You can’t be serious.”
“I am,” he insisted. “There isn’t like an alley or anything between here and there, right?”
I narrowed my eyes. “No… why?”
“That means there’s nowhere for me to drag you off, or anything like that for you to be concerned about.” I covered my mouth to stifle a laugh, and again, Trevor leaned in closer, so close that I could smell the crisp, clean, leathery scent of his cologne. “Come on, Jada. Let me take you out for tacos.”
It wasn’t like it could hurt anything, switching one restaurant for another. I gave him a short nod, then started to open my purse for my wallet, but Trevor shook his head, placing his hand over mine.
“Please,” he said, pulling out his own wallet. “It’s the least I can do, after making you wait for me.”
He waited for me to nod, confirming that it was okay before placing enough bills for the drink and tip down on the bar. When he was done, I stood, and allowed him to take my hand to lead me to the front of the restaurant.
A comfortable silence rested between us as we waited for our coats. I pretended to be interested in a large piece of artwork on the wall, but really, I was looking at Trevor’s reflection through the ornately decorated mirror under it.
Trevor was taller than me in my heels, by at least four or five inches. His long legs were swathed in dark jeans that molded nicely to his thighs when he moved, dark leather boots, and a thick gray sweater that clung to his body. As if he felt my eyes on him, he looked toward the mirror, and I quickly slid my gaze to my own body, seeing what he saw.
Cognac-colored boots, dark jeans, and a jade sweater. I was on the smaller side up top, but thicker in the hips and ass, with deep golden-brown skin. Thick, wild, honey-tipped curls. Button nose. Big brown eyes. I don’t know if he could tell I was watching him, but his eyelids went low, his lips pressed together hard, and I could practically hear and feel the mmph in his spirit.
Trevor liked what he saw.
When our coats arrived, he helped me into mine, even assisted with my scarf before donning his own. He stepped into the bitterly cold air in front of me, and the held the door for me to come out. We traveled quickly, gloved hands clasped until we reached the entrance of restaurant next door.
Inside Carnitas, we went right to a booth near the window, took off our coats and sat down. Instead of taking the seat across from me, Trevor sat beside me. The restaurant was nearly empty, and with the intimate seating style, the fireplace blazing, and a light sprinkling of snow beginning to fall, it was a little bit… romantic.
“So I wouldn’t usually choose dinner for a first date,” he said, turning to me as the waiter left with orders for our drinks. “But, since it was a blind date, I thought you might feel more comfortable with this.”
I lifted an eyebrow. Had I really been out of the dating scene so long that there was a problem with wining and dining? “What’s wrong with dinner?”
“There’s nothing wrong with dinner. It’s just not really a natural setting with someone you don’t know. Especially if it’s not an organic date, where you’ve already had that initial spark of attraction.”
I nodded, listening to Trevor’s words, but watching his hands as he spoke. They were big, and expressive, as much a part of the conversation as he was. He moved, punctuating a word, and I caught a glimpse of his palm. I shivered a little, remembering how his hand had felt on mine. Warm, and calloused, but not unpleasantly so. Enough that I wondered how they might feel on… other places. I swallowed hard, and tried to focus.
“Now you have to get through all the little small talk you would have done already if it was just someone from your job, or someone you saw at the coffee shop every day,” he was saying. “You’re stuck in one place, forced to talk to someone, and … damn, I’m sorry. I did not mean that how it probably sounded.”
“It’s okay,” I laughed. “I think I get what you’re saying. So… why don’t you tell me what you have rather done instead?”
He was twisted toward me instead of facing forward, and as I waited for him to answer, I realized I’d done the same thing. My shoulder was pressed into the cold, fogged glass of the window, but I was comfortable.
I… was comfortable.
I hadn’t been comfortable with a man who wasn’t friend, family, or business associate since the end of my marriage. In my failed attempts to date after the divorce, and during the proceedings, there was a thin veil of anxiety surrounding my interactions with romantically interested men. But that was what infidelity did to you, when you weren’t the one getting extra action on the side. You doubted everything you thought you knew about the qualities that made you desirable.
Is my natural hair really okay? I’ve got plenty of ass and thighs, but they’re covered with stretch marks I can’t blame on kids… is that going to be fine? Am I really thick, or is my ass just plain fat? I make my own money, but what if it’s more than he does? Will that be a problem?
I was confident. I thought I was the shit, and someone’s disagreement with my opinion of me didn’t deserve a first or second thought. Betrayal robbed me of that self-assurance.
But not tonight.
Tonight, I was comfortable. Maybe because Andrea knew him, maybe because I’d had a drink, or maybe… it was just his relaxed, easygoing vibe.
“Ice skating,” he said, answering my question about what he would have chosen over dinner. “The museums and art galleries. Christmas lights. Bonfires. Just something active, you know?”
“Yeah, I do. Maybe next time.”
Wait… did I just say…
I wondered how many points I lost in his head, for that little slip up of assuming there would be a second date. We were barely into this one, and I was already planning the next? Red flag like whoa.
But… he nodded, then leaned back a little, relaxing against the high leather back of the booth, and smiled. “Definitely next time.”
The waiter returned with our drinks, and we ordered food. Not tacos, but we did order a huge plate of nachos to share while we talked. Before I knew it, it was nearing midnight, and time for the restaurant to close.
“We should probably let these people go home, huh?” Trevor asked, standing to help me into my coat.
We’d paid the check long ago, but neither of us was in any particular hurry to get home. We’d covered the basics in our conversation. Jobs, – we were both business owners – kids, — neither of us had any – and marriage – we’d both tried and failed, once.
He liked the Caribbean, and I did too. We were divided on sushi, but shared an unhealthy love for sweets. He played basketball to keep himself in shape, and I was a reluctant morning runner, for the same reason. When he was doing tedious work, he listened to awful rap music, which I did too, but didn’t admit. The callouses on his hands were from spending his weekends renovating his fixer-upper home, and the realtor who’d sold it to him actually worked in my office.
There was a point, when he excused himself for the bathroom, that I texted Andrea. “I really want to sit on his face,” I typed, only halfway kidding. “Do it,” she texted back. “He’s a standup guy. If my intuition is correct, you wouldn’t be disappointed. Do what you feel!”
And I thought about it.
I thought about it, and thought about it, and thought about it a little more. On the way out of the restaurant, he stopped at the front counter, ordering a Mexican hot chocolate for both of us.
“So,” I said, once we were outside. “Are you walking me home?” I hadn’t even planned on walking, intended to call a cab. But, I needed the extra time to think about how I wanted to end the night, and I needed him with me for that. “It’s only a few blocks,” I added, then took a sip from my Styrofoam cup, sighing as the creamy-spicy-chocolatey flavors burst across my tongue.
“What did you think the hot chocolate was for? It’ll keep us warm.” He offered me his arm, and I took it, keeping my eyes trailed on my cup as he led me along. “Wouldn’t have felt right letting you walk by yourself, once I realized you hadn’t already called a cab.”
So he noticed.
Was he thinking the same thing I was? Or hoping for an invite? Or just… being a gentleman? Whatever it was, I didn’t know, but I snuggled close to him as we headed to my building.
The walk went quickly because we spent it talking and laughing. In front of my building, we stopped, then just kind of looked at each other.
“So… I guess this is goodnight,” he said, turning to face me. “You kept me so distracted I forgot to call my cab.”
I shrugged, then grinned. “I’ll wait with you, I guess. But… you have to give me the rest of your hot chocolate.”
Trevor laughed, then turned his cup upside down. “Sorry. It was good, and it’s cold out here. All gone.”
He took my cup and his, discarding them in the trash can by the steps before we climbed them to get to the front of the building, where we… stared at each other again, until Trevor laughed. “I get the feeling neither of us really wants end this date.”
I lifted an eyebrow. “Is that your way of fishing for an invitation inside?”
“No,” he chuckled, then grinned as he pulled off his gloves, stowing them in the pockets of his coat before he reached for mine. “I just… I want to do something before we call it a night.”
I just stood there, confused, but curious as he tugged my gloves away from my hands, and stored them in my pockets, just as he’d done with his own. The cold bite of wintry air chilled my fingers to the bone, but the covered vestibule kept us protected from the snow. Trevor covered my hands with his, and almost instantly, the bitter cold was gone.
His calloused fingers entwined with mine, and understanding passed through me as he pulled me close. I couldn’t do anything but stare up at him, eyes wide, heart racing as he lowered his mouth to brush my lips with his.
“Now, I can do this,” he murmured, then pressed his mouth to mine as I closed my eyes.
The kiss was soft at first, but insistent as he pressed harder, and when the rough moisture of his tongue touched my lips, it felt natural to open for him, so I did. He took my mouth in slow, vanilla-and-cayenne flavored licks, massaging his tongue against mine. I met him stroke for stroke, draping my arms over his shoulders. With my fingers splayed against the back of his neck, I pushed myself up on my toes. I wanted him closer, wanted him inside of me, and just the thought of it made me whimper in disappointment when he finally pulled away.
“Come upstairs with me,” I whispered, lowering myself to my feet, but keeping my hands where they were, maintaining a skin to skin connection. Our eyes met, and though I clearly saw the mutual desire, it was mixed with a level of hesitation that made heat rise to my face. “To wait for you cab,” I amended.
Yes, that was right. He hadn’t called that cab yet to take him home, and it was cold, and snowing, and late. I was just being a good date… right?
I don’t know that Trevor was buying that, but he did agree to come inside. It was quiet between us as we climbed the two flights of stairs, and even as I unlocked the door. As we entered my apartment, I took a deep breath, then turned to him as I closed and locked the door behind us.
And then his tongue was in my mouth.
Or at least, that’s how it seemed. One second I was battling with myself, in my head, over how to successfully un-embarrass myself for inviting him up in the first place, and the next, he was kissing me again. Hands in my hair, kissing me slow, and deep, making little sounds like I was the best thing he’d ever tasted.
My fingers were quick, flying over the smooth buttons of his coat, then mine, and both garments ended up discarded on the floor. Sweaters were next, and then we were kicking off boots, and jeans joined the growing pile of clothes. Before I knew it, I was seated at the edge of my kitchen counter, Trevor was rolling a condom on, and I parted my legs for him, moaning as he sank inside.
It was… glorious, really. He was thick, and unbelievably hard, filling me up with deep, plunging strokes that took my breath away. His hands were hot and searching, fingers teasing, tugging my nipples, his thumb dipping into me for moisture, then rubbing fervent circles on my clit.
I hiked my legs around his waist, but he pushed them back, propping my feet on the countertop, spreading me wide as he drove deeper. Tightness bloomed in the pit of my belly, stretching over me until it turned into a tingling that spread from my fingers to my toes.
Trevor’s mouth was on my neck, sucking and biting, riding the line between pain and pleasure. My fingernails dug into the muscled flesh of his ass, wanting him to stroke me harder, faster. I needed him to go deeper, but he was holding back. I could feel it in the tension of his shoulders, his hitched breath against my neck, his suddenly slowed movements, like he was pacing himself.
I gripped the edge of the counter for leverage and moved myself, thrusting onto him with the vigor I wanted him to use on me. He caught my at the hips, trying to slow my movements, but I pushed back, locking my legs around him. A couple of seconds later, I understood why he was trying to slow down.
He slammed into me, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of my thighs as he came with a groan. His grip was tight, almost painful, until his breathing began to slow down, and he loosened his hold.
My apartment was still bathed in semi-darkness, lit by the purplish glow of the aquarium Andrea had gifted when I first moved in, to “give me something to take care of”. That was where I focused my attention, watching the hypnotic movements of the fish as Trevor pulled out of me.
“Where’s your bathroom?” he asked, with no inflection in his tone. No arrogance, no compunction, no nothing, just “where’s the bathroom”, while I was on the verge of having a breakdown.
I mumbled the directions, then closed my eyes as he completely pulled away, leaving me sitting there on the counter. The first man I’d actually enjoyed since the divorce, the first I’d even attempted a sexual encounter, and it left me feeling the same way I felt after the last time I was with Alex.
This reminded me of Alex.
So there I was, comparing him to Alex.
I climbed down from the counter and immediately went into my bedroom. I grabbed an oversized tee shirt from the drawer and pulled it over my head, suddenly hyper-aware of my nakedness. At the very least, I wanted to be clothed while I pondered the stupidity of sleeping with a man the first night I met him – especially one who wouldn’t even make me come. I could have fucked Alex again for that.
I pushed out a heavy sigh as I sat down on the edge of my bed. To be fair, Trevor had done more for me in ten minutes of sex than Alex had in the last two years of our marriage. Satisfying, explosive lovemaking had devolved into hot and heavy quickies, which had devolved into “I’ve got you next time”, which had devolved into him not even pretending my orgasms mattered to him. At least Trevor had tried.
Now, I wondered what would be next. He was probably in my living room now, hurrying into his clothes. He’d shoot me a text saying he had a good time, and then I’d never hear from him again, because why the hell would he bother?
And why the hell was I so bothered?
Hadn’t I decided this before we came upstairs, when we were walking in the snow, warming ourselves with Mexican hot chocolate? One experience to rule them all, sex on the first night, with a man I was likely to never see again, or at least not often. I was the one who set this in motion… so it was up to me to live with the consequences.
Consequences being = feelings of inadequacy, recognition of an astonishing lack of wisdom, feeling like –
My eyes shot to the entrance of my bedroom door, where Trevor stood. I hadn’t turned on the lights, but the glow from the partially opened window was enough for a breathtaking view of his body. Trevor was solid. Not fat at all, but nowhere near slim, and gently carved with the muscles of a guy who was active, but didn’t “work out”. I couldn’t help the fact that my thighs clenched at the sight of him, with his – quite frankly – beautiful dick swaying in front of him as he approached the bed, still hard.
“You covered up,” he said, his eyes roaming over my body in a way that made me cross my arms over my chest, like I hadn’t just done the same thing to him. “Is this your way of saying it’s time for me to go?”
I lifted an eyebrow. “Is that not what you were about to do? We’re done, right?”
“You didn’t get yours, so… if you ask me, no. We’re not.”
My lips fell apart, half in surprise, half in arousal. He came to sit beside me, and I didn’t even care that he had his naked ass on my duvet, because his lips were on my neck, then his tongue, and then his fingers were between my legs.
“I’m sorry about earlier,” he murmured, then pulled the soft flesh of my earlobe between his teeth, making me whimper. “I was trying to hold out, trying to wait for you to—”
“I-it-it’s fine,” I stammered, squirming against his hand. He pressed his thumb to my clit, then pushed his fingers into me as his mouth came back to my ear.
“It’s not.” He kissed my mouth again, sucking and nipping my bottom lip before he invaded me with his tongue, in deep, slow strokes that mimicked his fingers. A low, purring sort of moan escaped my throat, and I leaned into his body. “You giving me a chance to redeem myself?” he asked.
My response was a frantic nod as I spread my legs wider, inviting his fingers deeper. His free hand ended up buried in my hair, and he gently tugged it back, exposing more of my neck. I nearly came right then, all over his fingers, when his teeth grazed the point where my neck met my shoulder, then sank in.
The rasp of his tongue over my flesh made me shudder. His fingers plunged deeper as he sucked my skin in his mouth, and I knew it would leave a mark, but I didn’t give a shit. The tingling tightness from before was back, and I grabbed onto it in my mind.
My hand closed over his, holding it in place as I rolled my hips, riding his fingers. His mouth moved from my neck to my breast, closing over the hard nipple pressed against the thin fabric of my shirt. He suckled it into his mouth, hard, sending a sharp jolt of pleasure between my legs, and I bucked against his hand.
I was so, so close, and his fingers and mouth felt so, so good that I was nearing delirium.
And then I was there. I squeezed my eyes tight as everything shut off and then flipped back on, leaving me feeling light-headed and dizzy. I came in hot waves, one hand gripping the duvet, the other gripping his arm as I pulsed around his fingers, then collapsed, panting, against his chest.
I swallowed hard, trying to catch my breath, but his lips were mine again, and I just accepted it. My bones were still lost somewhere in oblivion, and I couldn’t move or speak.
“I’ll be right back,” Trevor whispered as he gently pushed me back onto the bed.
Holy shit, I yelled in my head as my legs clenched in a post-orgasm tremor. My whole body felt light, and sated, and… just, incredible.
And apparently, we weren’t done.
Trevor stepped back into the room, spreading my legs when he reached the bed. Something hot and wet touched me, and I realized that he’d brought a warm towel, to wipe me down. I barely had time to process what was happening before the towel was gone, and he climbed onto the bed, balancing himself on top of me.
He gave me a slow, lingering kiss, then said nothing as his lips moved from my mouth to my chin, down my neck, and then he raised me up long enough to get rid of my shirt. He swiped his tongue over my nipples, one then the other, then took turns suckling them in his mouth as he squeezed my breasts in his hands.
He made his way down my stomach, dipping his tongue into my belly button, kissing, and licking, and completely unbothered that my tummy wasn’t completely flat. His tongue slid along the creases of my legs, he nipped and sucked the inside of my thighs. I giggled, then moaned, at the feeling of his teeth on my ass, gently biting my butt cheeks, nipping at the creases.
And then, he got serious.
Trevor pressed a kiss just above my clit, then under, then both sides. My fingers dug into the bed, gripping the cover in handfuls as I held my breath, waiting for him to put his mouth where I needed it. My clit was still humming with sensation, remember the orgasm before. It was alert, protruding, waiting to be touched again, but he kept teasing me. He was licking, kissing, tonguing everything he could touch, except my clit.
He spread my legs wide on either side of him, then pushed a first, then second finger into me. He flattened his tongue, giving me a firm, unhurried lick that made me arch away from the bed, but he quickly pushed me back down. With a wicked smile, he propped my thighs over his shoulders and dove in.
His tongue moved in slow, loose circles around my clit, and he pressed harder, into tight spirals. He licked me up and down, removing his fingers to make figure eights, then pushed them in again as he covered my clit with his mouth, surrounding me in wet heat.
The sounds he was making, my God. Grunting and slurping and groaning and growling with pleasure. It made me hotter, and wetter, and I was moaning and groaning, gasping and sighing, whimpering and growling too, answering each sound he made with one of my own.
I felt no shame as I ground my hips against his mouth, and he responded by licking harder, faster. My thighs clenched tight around his head, and I was clenching the bedcovers so hard I was sure my fingers would crush from the pressure as I came, screaming his name into the semi-darkness of the room.
My entire body was tingling. I was half in this world, half somewhere else as I watched Trevor tear open a condom I hadn’t seen him bring into the room.
When he sank inside me, we shared a satisfied groan, even though I was pretty sure my body had already given all it could. Still, his dick felt like the last performance of the night, when the star has already proven their talent, but they just want to make sure you know. And how could I not? He was pleasantly heavy and thick, filling me up with stroke after stroke.
“Is this better?” he murmured against my ear, then kissed me there, with a gentle brush of his lips. “Have I un-embarrassed myself?”
My giggle stuck in my throat as he pushed deeper. “Yes,” I whispered back, once I caught my breath. I lifted my hands to his head, cupping his ears. He groaned in response to that, like he liked it, then brought his gaze right to mine.
For that moment, I pretended that this was something it wasn’t. That we were, for real, lovers, instead of two horny people committing a first date faux pas. Trevor wasn’t just Andrea’s boyfriend’s friend, not just a blind date, he was mine. Mine, mine, mine, all mine.
The dick he was burying so deep it was like he was trying to get himself stuck? Mine.
The hands, lifting, cupping, squeezing my ass as he stroked? Mine.
The soft, searching lips he used to kiss me until I was breathless? Mine.
When I came – first this time – I kept my arms wrapped tight around his neck, holding him close, barely registering his climax through my own lingering fog of pleasure. After we collapsed, sweating, he didn’t immediately move away. Instead, he pulled me closer, playing into my little unspoken fantasy, keeping me tucked against him until I fell asleep.
When I woke up the next day, he was gone. As predicted, there was a text from him, “Had a great time with you last night. Can’t wait to see you again.”
Yeah, right, I thought to myself, but smiled. At least he’d gone the extra mile of taking my key off the ring to lock the door behind him, then slid it back under the door.
There was no disputing that Trevor was a gentleman, and even after a shaky start, no doubt that he was great in bed. We’d indulged in each other twice more throughout the night, with no repeat of that first experience.
I felt great.
Better than I’d felt in at least two years, and the funny thing was… I think it had very little do with Trevor himself. Not that he wasn’t great, he was just… a conduit, maybe, to my reawakening. Because that’s exactly how I felt now. Like I’d pushed through a fog, and was finally roused, after a long slumber.
I doubted if I’d see Trevor again. Even if he did call, it was probably best to leave that particular situation alone. Although it had been wonderful to just let go, and do something wrong, it was too much, too fast. It almost felt like I liked him a little too much, more than I should for one date and some adult fun.
And that whole “pretending he was mine” thing?
What the fuck was that?
I shook my head at myself as I climbed into the shower, letting the hot spray wash Trevor’s scent from my body. Sure, I felt good now, like I was in a new place.
But that didn’t mean I should be stupid.
My first – admittedly irrational – thought when I heard Trevor’s voice was that he was following me. Then, logic kicked in, and I realized that it was completely normal for him – a lawyer – to be in a coffee shop so near the courthouse. I’d gone there early, to drop off inspection results to a client who worked there, then stopped for a desperately needed espresso.
Maybe I should have chosen a different shop.
Trevor had called, twice, and he’d texted twice too. All four ignored correspondences were attempts to get together again. I turned toward the sound of his voice, and now that we were face to face, I felt bad for my lack of response.
Silence stretched between us for a long moment, and I took the opportunity to look him over. Two weeks had passed since our eventful blind date, and somehow, he was even more handsome than before. Lack of physical appeal certainly hadn’t been the issue. And he was smart, successful, funny, good in bed… if I were on the outside looking in, I would think I was crazy.
Andrea had said so too, when she came breezing into my apartment the morning after our date, only to hear me say I didn’t plan to see him again.
“What the fuck is wrong with you, girl? That man is like a goddamned unicorn, and you’re not going out with him again why, exactly?”
“Because I don’t think I’m ready to date,” I’d quipped back. “I got way too eager. Liked him too much, enough to take him to my place. Enough to screw him.”
Andrea gave me a serious side eye. “You realize that’s supposed to happen, right? You’re supposed to want to fuck him, that’s how dating works. Whether or not you do it is a whole other thing.”
“But I did screw him, and ended up liking him even more. I can’t even get myself off without thinking of him. What am I supposed to do with that, Andrea? I’m not… I’m really not trying to like him, and end up getting hurt again. I don’t know if I can handle that.”
“So then why’d you agree to go on the date?”
“Because I’m tired of being by myself, while everybody else moves along”, was the answer I didn’t her. I changed the subject, but that thought stayed at the forefront of my mind, even though I still didn’t answer Trevor’s calls.
“Trevor,” I said, pulling my face into a smile that came more easily than I expected. “Um… hey.”
He returned my smile with one of his own, stepping closer to move out of the path of other customers. “Hey yourself.”
I swallowed hard, then glanced down at the steaming coffee in my hands. “Um… I’m sorry about not calling or texting you back. I… I just got busy, and…” It only took one look at the disbelief etched into his face to make me stop attempting that lie. Truthfully, I’d been woefully not busy, passing time with stalking celebrity social media pages and gossip blogs. I’d even spent an entire evening after work cyber-stalking Alex as best I could, only to work myself into a short-lived depression when I saw his facebook page filled with pictures of a new, actually pretty, younger woman – Asian this time.
“Hey,” Trevor said with a shrug. “If you weren’t feeling it, you just weren’t, and that’s okay. I didn’t offend you or anything did I?”
I quickly shook my head. “Absolutely not. You treated me very well, Trevor.”
“Okay. Okay,” he nodded, then gave me a little smile. “Well, I won’t hold you. I just saw you as I was coming in, and I figured it would be rude to just not say anything. I’ll see you around.”
We traded short nods, he turned for the counter, and I turned for the door. Outside, a light snow had started, and as I raised my hot coffee to my lips, it reminded me that night with Trevor, holding hands in the snow, with our Mexican hot chocolates. I sighed, deeply, as I headed down the street, barely avoiding a dad chasing his laughing children down the sidewalk.
Completely on a whim, I turned around, heading back toward the coffee shop. I was almost there when I spotted him coming out, and heading in my direction. I quickened my steps to reach him, then grabbed the arm of his coat, tugging him against the building with me.
“I was embarrassed,” I blurted out, trying to quell the confusion in his eyes. I lowered my voice so only he could hear for the next part. “We barely even know each other, but I slept with you, on the first night, and I… I thought that might be why you were calling again.”
He narrowed his eyes, with a little shake of his head. “I was calling again because we were supposed to have a second date. Bonfire, museum, ice skating… remember?”
“I do.” My response was quiet, barely above a whisper. “But, I… I don’t know if I’m ready,” I said, taking a deep breath after. “I know it’s just a second date, after we’ve already been intimate, but I… I don’t know.”
“It takes time.” Trevor gave me a little half grin, then glanced toward a honking car as it breezed down the street through the melting slush. “I was there before. I remember. It just takes time, but you’ll get there. Eventually you’ll be ready.”
“How do you know when you’re ready?”
He shrugged. “You don’t. You just… try.” He gave me a pat on the shoulder, then moved around me head down the street. He was only a few feet away from me when I caught up him again, moving in front of him before he could turn around.
“Hey,” I said, breathless from the cold air in my lungs. “We should… if you want to, that is, we… should maybe set up that second date?”
His eyes went wide, and I swallowed hard, waiting as he weighed in his mind. After what seemed like forever, the corners of his mouth tipped into a smile.
“The rink just opened today for skating. Are you busy right now?”
Alex rolled his eyes at my long, exaggerated giggles, glancing around the restaurant to see if anyone was looking our way. But I didn’t care if anyone was looking our way, or if I was embarrassing him, damaging his fragile little ego by making a scene. This shit was hilarious.
“Wait, wait, wait,” I said, waving my hands in front of me before I clasped them together, resting my elbows on the table. “Let me make sure I’ve got this right…they’re suing you?”
I gave the absolutely most unlady-like snort of laughter when Alex nodded, because suddenly, my decision to accept a meeting with him made so much more sense.
“What the fuck are you meeting with him for?” Andrea had asked, face balled into a scowl when I told her where I’d be spending my lunch hour today. “We’re done with him. Over him. No more Alex. Bye fool. Why are you bucking the system?”
And as was the usual case when she asked me difficult questions, I had no answer for that. Alex called, said he wanted to speak with me in person, and for whatever reason… I agreed. Maybe because I was finally moving past the state of limbo I’d been in before. Not exactly depressed, but certainly not happy either, centered around my status as newly divorced.
It sounded a little bit like some kind of disease, something you got diagnosed as after a failed marriage. The kind of shit people whispered about behind their hands when you walked into a room. “Girl, there goes Jada. Don’t get too close, you know she’s newly divorced right? Next thing you know, your husband will be fucking the assistant too.”
The funny thing was, it did feel like some sort of affliction. Less like terminal cancer, more like… bronchitis. You’re down for an annoyingly long time, and the illness lingers, reminding you every once in a while with a sore throat or a cough that it’s still sticking around. But it gets better. Little by little, you come out of it, and one day, you wake up and realize that you can’t remember the last time you had a symptom.
Seeing Alex was that reminder. Yeah, I’d been broken by the collapse of our marriage, but by no means was I defeated.
He looked good, but that wasn’t a shock, because he always had. Alex was a pretty boy, red-brown skin, smooth-shaven face, model-ish good looks, perfectly tailored suit. I was honestly a little disappointed. This moment would have been so much better if he’d let himself go. But, I knew better. Alex was much too vain for that.
“I’m really not sure why this is so funny to you,” he said, running his tongue over his teeth to check his annoyance. It was one of his little quirks when he was annoyed, and so familiar to me that I almost smiled like I was seeing an old acquaintance. But then I remember that I can’t stand his ass.
I took a long sip from my water, the wiped the icy glass’s condensation from my fingers as I shook my head. “I’m not sure why this wouldn’t be funny to me, Alex. I mean, I’ve heard of a wife suing a mistress, but this is the first time I’ve heard of a couple suing for alienation of affection. This is hilarious, seriously. And then,” I looked again at the documents my ex-husband had handed me when we sat down, “She’s filing a separate suit against you, for emotional distress and lost wages, because I fired her. This is so, so wonderful. You really couldn’t have chosen a better whore to end our marriage, Alex. Really. This is beautiful.”
“This is serious,” he shot back, reaching across the table for my hands, pleading with his light brown eyes. “I need you to talk to her.”
I snatched my hands away. “You’ve lost your damned mind if you think I’m talking to her. First of all, why would I help you? Second, why the fuck would I help you? And third… why would she listen to me?”
“She idolizes you, Jada. Looks up to you. If you told her this was a bad idea, she would listen.”
I tipped my head to the side, narrowing my eyes. “But… I think it’s a great idea, Alex. I’m sure it’s probably a long shot, and I don’t even know if this girl has legal standing, but I hope to God she wins, and I hope she gets twice what she’s asking for.”
“You don’t mean that, J. Come on, you’re not a vindictive person like this. Don’t let what happened between us turn you into someone you’re not.”
But… it already had. For better or worse, I could never be the same girl I was before he betrayed me. Could never be that carefree, never be that vulnerable, never be that… whole, again. Or at least, I couldn’t see it. I’d been comfortable with him, trusted him, given my all to our marriage, and he’d slowly stripped me of the girl I used to be.
So… fuck him, basically.
“You know what,” I started, clasping my hands in my lap, to keep myself from tossing the last of the spicy gumbo I’d ordered for lunch in his face. “You really have a lot of nerve, asking me to do anything for you. You betrayed me, Alex, and you were bold as hell with it, screwing that bitch in the bed we shared. So for you to try to pull this on me, this “be the bigger person” bullshit… no. Fuck you, I won’t do it. I won’t be the bigger person, I’ll sit over here and be tiny and petty and bitter, and if I call your whore for anything, it will be to offer character evidence against your cheating ass.”
Alex’s expression shifted as he dropped his little diplomatic act. Crossing his arms over his chest, he sat back, eyeing me with disapproval. “So you’re going to pretend the decline of our marriage was just my fault?”
“Are you going to pretend it was mine?” I snapped back, sitting forward. “What you’re not going to do is sit here and blame me, Alex. No sir. That’s bullshit.”
“How would you know?” Alex shrugged. “The divorce proceedings were all about infidelity to you. It never even occurred to you to look at what you might have done wrong, what you could have done different. You never even asked me why.”
I sucked my teeth. “Why the hell would I? You cheated, bottom line. There was no going back from that.”
Alex shook his head, giving a dry cough of laughter. “That’s your problem, right there. You don’t want to carry your own part.”
“I don’t want to carry my part? Excuse me? Alex, I’ve done nothing except my very best to be an equal partner in this marriage. When did I ask you for anything? When did I not pull my own weight? When did I need you to rescue me?”
Alex leaned forward, a snide grin curling the corners of his mouth. “Never, Jada. And that’s exactly the damned problem. You catch a break, sell a house for a celebrity, and now all of a sudden you’re the real estate “it” girl. You’re making money, wining and dining clients, pulling out your own bank card at dinner.”
“Are you… are you serious, right now? You got upset because I started paying half of the bills?”
“I got upset because you were acting like you didn’t need a husband anymore.”
“Because I don’t need a husband,” I snapped, louder than intended, catching the attention of the tables around us. I nervously shoved a handful of my kinky-curls behind my ear, waiting for a little less scrutiny before I continued. “Is that what this is about? You’re telling me you cheated because I wasn’t mooching off you?”
He scoffed. “I’m telling you that I didn’t feel like my wife needed me. All of a sudden you’re little miss independent, I come to your office and see that little young ass football player flirting with you, and you’re grinning in his fucking face. I can’t have a meal with you, because you had a working dinner with a client. So… yeah. Somebody else started getting my attention.”
A ball of anger filled my stomach, and tears began to prick at my eyes, but I willed them not to fall. I swallowed hard, then looked up at Alex, clearing my throat. “Well… looks like you found what you were looking for then, someone who needs you. Chloe and her husband. Apparently, they need some bills paid.”
I gave him the sweetest smile I could muster, then stood and grabbed my purse. Alex said nothing as I stalked away from the table, but then I turned around, fishing a twenty from my wallet to put on the table. “Since I’m “little miss independent”, I figure I should pay for my own meal with you. Wouldn’t want to let the divorce change me, right?”
Alex rolled his eyes, and I rolled mine too as I walked away. I was pissed the hell off, stomping hard in my heels as I made my way back to my car.
I’d spent more time than usual getting ready that morning, because I knew I was seeing Alex. My ass looked great in my pencil skirt, but the cold snap of the winter air made me feel like even more of an idiot for actually agreeing to this meeting with him. I should have known better.
I was still seething when I made it to my car, and as soon as I was nestled inside, I called my new assistant, asking him to cancel the few appointments I had for the day. My mood was shot, it was cold, and it was a Friday anyway.
As I made my way home, my mind played over Alex’s accusation. He was right, I hadn’t looked at my own actions when it came time to file for divorce, because my actions hadn’t included putting his dick in someone else. So how dare he? How fucking dare he act like this was my fault?
When Alex and I met, I’d just been laid off from a shitty corporate cubicle job. I had a generic degree to go with that generic job, because I had no idea what I wanted to do with my life. I had no business dating, but we did it anyway, because Alex was impossible to resist. He was handsome, and charming, a dynamic personality… he kept me upbeat, kept me encouraged, and that was something I needed. As we grew closer, I was bouncing between jobs, trying to see what stuck. I ended up with a real estate license, working at a firm, and the first few years, I made pretty much no money.
But I was happy. I loved real estate, loved talking to and helping people, assisting them with finding homes. I stayed on my grind, working hard, and Alex and I moved in together. I wasn’t proud, not by any means, of the fact that moving in with Alex was a relief. It took off some of the stress of wondering if I could put the gas in my car to make it to a closing, or pay my license fees, or hell, eat. He covered pretty much everything, because he had it like that, and I was grateful, but I still kept working, because I didn’t want to be taken care of. I wanted to be an equal partner.
I moved up in my firm, but the progress didn’t come in instant boosts. I built relationships, built trust, made sure my name and face were known around the city, and then… I caught a break.
A local R&B artist called me because she liked my ads, and I helped her buy a new condo and sell her old one. She told a friend about me, who told a friend, who told a friend, and suddenly I was working with clients in a whole new tax bracket.
To me… life was good. Alex and I were living the DINK – dual income, no kids – dream, or so I thought. I thought I was being a good partner, by pulling my weight. Sure, I may have done a little innocent flirting with a client, but I never, ever took it too far. Never took off my ring, immediately shut down anything inappropriate, referred men who wouldn’t take a hint to other realtors. Sometimes I did have business meals, and sometimes that meant I couldn’t be with Alex. But I was working. I was grinding. I was holding my own, and doing my best to bring my very best to the table, because that’s what I thought a good partner did.
But… apparently not.
Apparently, Alex liked the girl he had to take care of. The girl who was all starry-eyed and amazed, fawning over him like he was the only man who existed. The girl who had nothing she’d rather do than make sure her man came home to a hot, home-cooked meal. And in fairness… that was the precedent I’d set with him.
I thought I’d been clear that I wanted more, wanted to be more, but maybe not. Once I reached the point where I could be considered “successful”, no matter how moderate that success was, I was suddenly no longer the person Alex wanted. But… the thing was, I’d never been that person, it was just who I was in the interim.
How was he supposed to know that though?
So, even though I understood that the nail in the coffin had absolutely been Alex’s decision to cheat on me, my mind churned with “what ifs?” As I stripped out of my sexy pencil skirt and silk blouse, I wondered what if I’d never gotten that break with the singer. Would my marriage still be intact?
As I ran a hot bath and slipped inside with a glass of wine, I wondered what if instead of resenting me, Alex had spoken up, expressed that he was seeing a change in our dynamic, and didn’t like it? Or what if I’d been paying enough attention to pinpoint why he was slipping away from me, suddenly not coming home, not touching me anymore, not asking me about my days? Would we still be in love?
Or… what if I hadn’t come home early that day, and caught him in the act? Would we still be living a lie? Would I still be feeling lonely in my own bed, sleeping in the same place he’d fucked another woman just a few hours before? Would I still be wondering if I was too this, too that, not good enough for him anymore?
My mind ran with those questions until I decided I was going to bed, not caring that it was only three in the afternoon. I shut the blinds and curtains, had another glass of wine, and burrowed under the covers, closing my eyes.
Why in the hell had I allowed Alex to get into my head? I was fine before now, well on my way back to happy, and then I just had to let him back in. I shut my eyes tighter, focusing on clearing my head, allowing my body to relax, until I drifted off to sleep.
Did I finish that bottle of wine, or no?
That was the first thought that sprang to mind when I woke up, still annoyed with Alex. A glance at the digital clock on the bedside table told me it was a few minutes away from eight o’clock, so I’d slept for a whopping five hours, in the middle of the day.
My mouth felt gross, so I climbed out of bed and brushed my teeth, then got pissed off because that meant I had to wait before I had another glass of wine. I was hungry, so I ventured into the kitchen to shuffle through my cabinets, hoping a spare bar of chocolate would show up.
Someone knocked on my door, and I immediately scowled. I wasn’t expecting company. As I padded to the door on my bare feet, I searched my mind for who it might be at the door. I pushed myself up a little on my toes to see through the peephole, and gasped when I saw who was on the other side.
Shit, shit, shit.
I flung the door open, not caring that was in nothing but an oversized tee shirt and fuzzy socks. Trevor’s face lit up in a smile at the sight of me in the doorway, but then his eyelids drooped in confusion as he took in my appearance. “Hey… you’re not ready to go, are you?”
“Trevor, I…” I clapped a hand to my forehead as I pushed out a heavy sigh. “I am so sorry. I completely forgot you asked me about dinner tonight. I… there was a thing, with my ex, and I came home and had wine, and then the bed, and I—”
“It’s okay,” Trevor said, chuckling as he lifted his hands to get my attention, and get me to calm down. “I get it, you haven’t had a good day. We can reschedule.”
“No!” I shook my head, grabbing his hand to pull him inside. “No, I could use the company. So, just let me get changed, and we can go.”
Trevor was so solid that my tugging attempts didn’t even move him. “You sure? Because it’s not—”
“Yes,” I insisted, covering his hand with both of mine. “I’m positive. As a matter of fact… maybe instead of going out, we can just stay in. I mean, it’s cold out there, and the weather is kind of gross. I can fix us something to eat, and we can catch a movie on demand…”
He raised his eyebrows, and then his mouth tipped into the sort of grin that set off a flash of heat between my legs. “You’re offering to cook for me?”
“Mmhmm,” I nodded, then moved closer to him in the open door. I pulled my lip between my teeth, tipping my head back to look him in the eyes. “Extremely rare, limited time offer. So watcha gon’ do?”
I laughed as he sucked his teeth, then sidled past me into the apartment and began taking off his heavy overcoat. “You really have to ask?” He chuckled as I reached for his coat, to hang beside the door. “Beautiful woman offers to cook you dinner, you accept.”
“Is that right?” I asked, crossing my arms.
“Absolutely. I’m not crazy.”
I smiled as I turned to flip the lock and the deadbolt, then gave my attention back to him. “Okay then, Mr. Not Crazy. Shoes off.”
He lifted an eyebrow. “Shoes off?”
“Yes,” I nodded. “Shoes off on my carpet.”
“That’s the rule?”
“That’s the rule.”
Trevor stepped closer to me, pushing his hands in his pockets. “What if I’ve got holes in my socks?”
“Then your ass needs some new socks,” I said, wrinkling my nose.
He laughed. “Or what if my feet stink?”
With a playful frown, I told him, “If your feet stink you gotta go home.”
“Daaaamn,” he said, as his mouth spread into a grin. “You’d do me like that?”
“Sure would. I’d send you right on out of here, with a referral to a podiatrist.”
Trevor shook his head as he bent to take off his shoes and leave them at the door beside mine. “Well, I guess it’s a lucky day for me since I don’t have either of those problems.”
“Mmmhmm, you let me see those socks.”
I giggled again as he held up a foot for my inspection, then pulled me into his arms for a hug. He pressed his lips to mine for a short kiss, and even though it was brief, it was still enough to make my heart race.
“It’s good to see you again, Jada,” he said, keeping his arms draped around my waist. Instead of a verbal response, I nodded as he kissed me again, lingering a little longer than before. “This is progress, right? Learning the rules for your place? No shoes on the carpet, no funky ass feet.”
I smiled. “Yes. It’s progress.”
And really, it was.
This was actually the first time Trevor had been back in my apartment since that first date, three weeks ago. We’d been out several times since then, talked on the phone, and even done a little late-night texting, but we kept it light, and breezy. Meaning: we hadn’t talked about, or had sex again.
Not that I didn’t want to.
As a matter of fact, the way he was holding me now conjured visions of our time together, him inside me, his face between my legs, and… damn. It certainly felt good to be held like this, my body humming with pleasurable memories from before. But I had to be smart about this, right? According to the rules, we shouldn’t have even slept together a first time by now, so if I didn’t want Trevor to see me as just a booty call, I needed to make up that time… right?
“I should probably go put on some clothes,” I said, pulling myself from his arms. “I wasn’t expecting anybody, so I—”
“I like you like this.” My nipples tightened to sensitive peaks as he reached up, touching a coil of hair that had escaped the protective silk of my head scarf. “You look good.”
I lifted an eyebrow. “With a scarf on my head, in a big faded tee shirt?”
He nodded. “Hell yeah. You seem relaxed, and comfortable. And I mean… the pretty face and the thighs don’t hurt.”
“I bet they don’t,” I said, grinning as I uncovered my hair. I went to the sink to wash my hands, and when I looked back again, Trevor was pulling his sweater over his head. His jeans fit well, not baggy, but a grown-ass man kind of fit, slung low on his hips. With his arms stretched high, his stomach was on display, and everything about that was sexy to me. Not chiseled, but defined. Trevor was solid, and I knew exactly what that fine layer of hair led to.
Too soon, his sweater was off, and he was pulling the tee he wore underneath down into it’s intended position. I looked away, pretending I wasn’t watching as I turned to the fridge.
He tossed his sweater somewhere, and approached me from behind, getting closer than necessary to speak. “I figured I should get comfortable so I can help with dinner, right?”
“Um, sure. If you want to help, I’m not going to deny you. I’ve got shrimp, tomatoes, spinach, some fresh spaghetti… I’m thinking pasta?”
Trevor smiled. “Works for me.”
He and I worked well together in the kitchen, from the making of the pasta, to the salad. We sautéed, and laughed, and chopped, and talked, and mixed, trading slow kisses in-between tasks. It made a simple meal take nearly an hour, but I wouldn’t have changed a single second. Trevor and I had an easy, relaxed vibe, and it was just what I needed to take my mind off the bullshit with Alex.
After dinner, I pulled out a bread pudding I’d made earlier in the week. There was only one serving left, but I heated it anyway, and Trevor and I shared it in front of the TV. We sat on the floor in front of the couch, cushioned by the thick carpet I’d had installed in the apartment myself. Trevor had his back against the couch, and I sat sideways between his legs.
I was being a little piggy, but I didn’t care, and used my finger to scoop the last of the bourbon-cream sauce from the plate we’d shared. I had it almost to my mouth when Trevor caught my hand, sucking the sticky-sweet sauce from my finger. I was almost mad, but then he drew me into another one of the slow, nipple-hardening, panty-soaking kisses he seemed to favor, sweeping my tongue with his. I moaned against his mouth, pushing myself closer to him.
With my legs draped over his, I could feel him, getting thicker and harder against my thigh. I opened my legs, covering his hand with mine and pushing it up to the apex of my thighs. He groaned, muttering something under his breath about not realizing I wasn’t wearing any panties, then pressed his thumb to my clit, but didn’t move it. Some way, some how, that one little stationary finger, touching me with just the slightest pressure, sent spasms of pleasure shooting through my thighs. I rocked against it as Trevor dropped his mouth to my neck, then pushed two fingers inside me.
“Goddamn, you’re so wet,” Trevor grunted against my ear, pumping his fingers in and out like he was amazed by how easily they slipped and glided over my slick flesh. He pushed into me hard and deep, circling his fingers making me whimper as his teeth grazed my neck, making me whimper and open my legs wider.
He said something to me, just as I was rocked by a wave of pleasure, and I had to suck in a deep breath to focus my mind. “What did you say?” I asked, in a breathless whisper just before he pressed his lips to mine.
“I need to taste you,” he said, his tone urgent as he pulled his fingers from between my legs. I barely had the chance to register what he’d said before he was lifting me up. He propped me on the couch, spread my legs wide, and then his mouth was on me.
His tongue was everywhere, fingers everywhere, filling me, devouring me, stripping me of any lingering annoyance from the earlier events of the day. Trevor draped my thighs over his shoulders, burying his face as he lapped me up like he was parched and thirsty, swallowing me whole.
Tears filled my eyes. Tears of joy, tears of pleasure, tears of hell-yes-please-don’t-ever-stop, tears of bliss. And he didn’t stop when I came, just kept going, and going, and going, until my body was completely spent. I felt weak and boneless, like jelly, and as Trevor smiled up at me from between my legs, I realized that I felt fucking wonderful.
He raised himself up, and was over me, about to kiss me, when someone knock on the door, and I cursed under my breath. The knock came again, loud and insistent, and Trevor kissed me anyway, tasting like wine and bread pudding and sex, and, well… whoever was at the door should have called first.
But they kept knocking. Deep, booming, distracting knocks like the damned police, and I reluctantly untangled myself from Trevor to go to the door. I could feel him behind me, his hands on my waist as I pushed myself up on my toes to look through the peephole.
“Shit,” I muttered under my breath when I saw who it was. I turned to Trevor, placing my back against the door with a heavy sigh. “It’s my ex-husband,” I said, keeping my voice low. “He’s probably trying to talk to me about earlier.”
Trevor nodded. “Okay. Do you want to talk to him?”
He shrugged. “So tell him that.”
“It’s not that easy.” I shook my head, then cringed as Alex started knocking again. Closing my eyes, I tossed the back of my head against the door. “I really just want to go back to what we were doing.”
Trevor looked at me for a long moment, then a sneaky grin spread over his face. He moved closer to me, pressing me against the door as he hiked my legs around his waist. He was unfazed by Alex’s steady beating, and kissed me slow and deep, swallowing my sounds of pleasure as he pushed his fingers into me again. He did that until the knocking at the door became background music, then lowered my legs, knelt in front of me, and covered me with his mouth again.
“I know you’re home, Jada! I can hear your music, and I hear you bumping against the door. We need to talk about this lawsuit.”
Alex’s voice carried through the door, with a nails-on-a-chalkboard effect on my body. One moment, I was ready to be swept into another orgasm, and the next, his stupid ass was interrupting me, making my hold body rigid and tense. Ugh!
Trevor shook his head as he stood, and I started to apologize but he held up a hand. He snatched his tee shirt over his head, unbuckled and unbuttoned his pants, then unlocked the door and snatched it open.
“Nooooo!” I shrieked, in my head, but it was already too later, the scene unfolding in front of me in slow motion.
I could only imagine what it looked like to Alex. Trevor standing there in my door, his face wet with my arousal, shirtless and solid and strong, pants undone, his expression a balanced mix of angry and annoyed. I moved to the side, peeking through the crack where the hinges were, and I had to cup a hand over my mouth to keep from bursting into laughter over Alex’s shocked expression.
“What’s up, man? You’re beating on the door like you’re from the SWAT team, do you need something?”
Alex narrowed his eyes, and seemed to snap out of his shock, into a little anger of his own. “Yeah, I need to see Jada.”
“Jada is busy.”
A vein throbbed at the side of Alex’s head. “Is that right?”
“Yeah, it is.” I could practically hear the smirk in Trevor’s voice as he said that, and the look on Alex’s face made me so giddy I squirmed.
“Jada,” he called out, keeping his scowl aimed at Trevor. “I need to talk to you, can you come out here?”
Thinking fast, I snatched off my tee shirt and pulled on Trevor’s, taking a brief second to inhale his scent. I pulled my hair from the bun I’d put it into earlier, running my hands through it so it was wild on my head.
And then, I stepped into the door frame, easing myself under Trevor’s arm. He grabbed me at the waist, pulling me close, and if I didn’t know better, I would have sworn Alex was about to pass out at the sight of another man touching me.
His adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, his eyes wide at what was in front of him. “So this is what’s up, Jada?” he asked, his voice weirdly strained. “This motherfucker is why you’re acting different with me?”
Trevor tensed beside me, but I put my hand over the one he had pressed flat against my stomach, and squeezed. “No, Alex. I’m acting differently with you because I’m not your wife anymore. I’m not the same woman, and you need to understand that. I don’t owe you anything.”
“I took care of you, for the first years of our marriage. You think you don’t owe me?”
My face turned up, in the ugliest scowl I could muster, and that time, Trevor held me back, with a slight bit of pressure from his hand. “Hell no, I don’t owe you. Not when I was goddamn Martha Stewart any time I wasn’t working to build myself up as a real estate agent. Don’t try to mischaracterize me because we’re in front of him.”
“You don’t want your new man to know the real you? How you used me until you caught a break, then all of sudden—”
“Okay, this shit is stupid,” Trevor said, pulling me backwards. “Take your ass home, man. Don’t knock on this door again, or I’m gonna kick your ass. Got it?” Before Alex could get out a response, Trevor had slammed the door in his face but didn’t lock it, almost like he was hoping Alex would give him a reason to open it again. And if I knew Alex like I thought I did… there was a chance he might.
But, he didn’t.
We waited a few moments in silence, just looking at each other, until I locked the door myself. “He’s twisting what happened,” I said, as soon as I turned back to Trevor. “I mean… kind of. I didn’t use him though, not intentionally. He covered most of the bills, but I pulled my weight the best I could, and I worked so hard to—”
“Jada.” Trevor’s voice was warm, soothing as he took me by the hands, pulling me close. “He’s pissed because he saw me here, thinks you’re moving on, and he doesn’t like it. I know exactly what that was. You strike me as a woman who can, and wants to, take care of herself. I’m not worried about that shit.”
Relief swept through my chest, and I relaxed into his arms as he pulled me into an embrace. “You sure we’re okay?”
I smiled up at him, then teasingly pinched his arm. “You know you were wrong for going to the door like that, right?”
He shrugged, but the corners of his mouth twitched like he was trying not to smile. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Mmhmm. Shirt off, pants all open. How do you think that looked to him?”
“I think it looked like exactly what it was – like he was interrupting some adult fun.”
I giggled, then moaned as he slid his hands down, cupping and squeezing my ass. “Adult fun?”
“Hell yes,” Trevor grinned.
I pushed myself up on my toes, pressing my lips to his as he squeezed me again. “Well then… interruption over. Let’s get back to it.”