For the second morning in a row, I wake up draped around Coder, only this time, we’re in his bed instead of mine—and this time, he’s already awake, his hands making his intentions known.
I went to sleep in my panties and one of his t-shirts, the cotton fabric swallowing me whole. Now, the t-shirt it bunched well above my waist, Coder’s hand cupping the bare skin of my breast, his thumb grazing back and forth across my hardening nipple. His touch feels so good, I don’t even stop to worry about the fact that he’s just crossed another intimate line. Instead, I tilt my head back, wishing only to find his lips.
I don’t even have to open my eyes, and he gives me what I want, kneading my breast as my tongue finds its way into his mouth. I can feel the wetness between my legs. It’s so much, I swear it was there before I was conscious. My leg is hooked over his, but needing to be closer, I hitch it up around his waist, grazing over the erection in his boxer briefs. He grunts, and then I find myself on my back.
I lose his mouth, and he lifts his shirt that covers me higher, dipping his head so fast that I’m not sure what he’s doing until his lips are wrapped around my nipple, his tongue flicking the hardened bud. I moan softly, the feel of his touch at my breast in combination of his warm presence between my legs making me crazy.
My hips thrust up instinctively, my body longing for some sort of friction. I moan again, louder this time, as Coder responds in kind, rocking his hips so that I feel the bulge in his briefs rub over my panty covered clit. I’m overwhelmed, the sensations he’s inflicting on my body making it hard for me to think straight. For a moment, I think that I want the real thing. That I want to feel his hard, velvety length glide inside of me.
It’s a fleeting thought, one that makes my heart pound and my breath hitch, some resilient part of my conscious reminding me that I’m not ready—that we’re not ready, because we aren’t there yet—but my longing for more still remains.
When he moves from one breast to the next, sucking hard, I arch my back, the throbbing at my center now almost unbearable. I reach my hands up and fist my fingers in his hair, rolling my hips as I whimper, “Honey—honey, you’re making me crazy.”
As if he’s too lost in me to speak, he blindly reaches up and takes hold of one of my wrists before guiding my hand down into his briefs. This time, he doesn’t have to show me what to do, I just do it, wrapping my fingers around his dick. When I squeeze and stroke, he groans, finally lifting his head from off of my breast.
Our eyes lock, and I don’t look away as I feel his hand dip into my panties. Though, unlike any time before, rather then graze by my entrance with his fingers, he pushes one inside of me. I suck in a sharp breath, my fingers tightening around him, and his hips jerk as he mutters, “Fuck, baby—just like that. Hold me tight. Stroke me hard.”
I do as he says. Or, at least, I try. The feel of him inside of me is more than a little distracting. I’m so wet that as he pumps in and out of me, I can hear it as my insides coat his finger in my arousal. It’s embarrassing—but he feels so good, I don’t want him to stop.
“God, you’re so tight,” he grunts, pressing his forehead against mine.
I spread my legs wider, and he curls his finger inside of me, sending a shiver of pleasure straight through me. He jerks against my hand, and I remember to hold him tighter. He bucks his hips again and then tells me, “Both hands, baby—hold me with both hands.”
I do as he says, closing both hands around him, and he takes over—thrusting in my grip as his finger continues to work inside of me. When his thumb starts to circle my clit in tandem, I know it’s only a matter of seconds before I detonate. As the pressure builds, my hands squeeze, and he groans, bringing his mouth down to cover mine. I come as soon as his tongue makes contact with mine, and I feel it as my core tightens around his finger, fluttering with the pulse of my release. I whimper into his mouth, my body trembling beneath his.
As I start to come down from the high of my orgasm, he removes his hand from my panties, then props himself up on his forearms as he continues to thrust his hips. His breathing is heavy, and I can feel his dick pulse as he kisses me hard. When he pulls his lips from mine, it’s abrupt, and then he groans before he mutters, “I’m gonna come, baby. Fuck, Mack—I’m gonna come all over you.”
His hips move faster, as does my heart, and I watch him hurdle toward his orgasm. Just before I feel the first spurt of his release on my stomach, he swells and then twitches in my hand. I gasp, looking down at him, watching as he does exactly as he said he would—coming all over me.
He slows his movements, and I don’t let go until he sits up on his knees. A sly grin spreads across his face as his eyes take me in from head to toe, and I know I have to look like a hot mess—my make-up from yesterday faded after sleep, my hair wild and free, his shirt pulled up to my neck, and my stomach covered in semen—nevertheless, he looks at me like I’m a prize.
When our gazes align, his smile grows even wider as he chuckles, “Morning, babe.”
I giggle shaking my head at him before I reply, “Good morning.”
“Babe?” He pauses, tucks his dick back into his underwear, and then leans over me, a fist planted on either side of my head. “Good isn’t even the half of it.” He presses a quick kiss against my lips. Pulling away and running his nose along mine, he tells me, “Stay put. I’ll clean you up.”
I nod and he kisses me again before tugging his shirt down low enough to cover my small breasts. He then climbs out of bed and slips out of his room, closing the door behind him. I sigh, staring up at the ceiling, groaning when I remember that it’s Monday and I have class.
Then again, I’d rather be on campus than at my apartment.
I didn’t hear from Brooke at all after Coder and I left yesterday. I know it was probably silly of me to think that I might, given the gravity of our fight, but I had hope. By the time we left Harvey and Grace’s house, that hope had gone, and disappointment, regret, and sadness had taken its place. I knew Coder felt the shift, because he didn’t even ask me if I wanted to go home. He just brought me back to his place and handed me a t-shirt.
I had done so well all day, not crying when I remembered the things she said to me; but when I climbed into bed and snuggled up next to Coder, I couldn’t hold back any longer. He just held me as I let it all out, not saying a word, somehow knowing that there was nothing to say that would make me feel better. After I finally calmed down, he shut the lights out and we went to sleep.
Needless to say, my weekend had its highs—really, really great, hot highs—but it definitely came at me with some lows.
When Coder comes back, he sits next to me as he wipes me clean with a warm, damp face cloth. I watch him the whole time, surprised that I’m not grossed out, and a little curious to know what it tastes like. My cheeks warm in a blush at the thought, and I’m quick to discard it, not wanting to explain what’s on my mind. Luckily, Coder turns away to toss the cloth on a pile of dirty clothes, giving me a chance to take a breath before he focuses his attention on me.
“I’ve got to get you home.”
“Yeah,” I agree, fighting a pout. “What time is it?”
“Eight.”
“Crap,” I mumble, quickly sitting up. “My first class is at nine. We’ve got to go.”
I take one step away from the bed before Coder stops me, grabbing hold of my hips and pulling me into the space between his legs as he looks up at me. “I work until close. But it’s Monday, so I’ll be out around eight. You can come over if you want.”
“I’ve got work, too. I don’t get off until ten. It’s okay. I’ll be okay.”
“That’s what you said yesterday, then I spent an hour watching you cry at the end of the night. Not my favorite thing, babe.”
I flinch at his words, reaching up to run my fingers through my hair in an attempt to hide my sudden guilt. “Um, look—I’m sorry I—”
“No. Don’t do that.”
Suddenly feeling defensive, I grab my waist, sighing in frustration as I ask, “What? What now?”
He stands, forcing me to tilt my head back so that I can see him. “Don’t do that either.”
“Coder,” I snap. “What? I swear, it’s like I can’t win right now.”
“Don’t pick a fight.”
My jaw drops open, appalled that he would think I’m the one trying to pick a fight. “I don’t even know what you’re talking about!”
“Babe,” he grunts, reaching up to grab the back of my neck, burying his fingers in my messy hair. “You and me, we’re good. Take a breath. And while you’re at it, don’t apologize to me for crying. I was there. Heard what she said to you, Mack, and it was a load of shit. You think you can deal sharing a wall with her tonight, fine. But don’t do it because you think you’re doing me any favors.”
Staring up at him, I do as he says, drawing in a slow, deep breath. As I let it out, I reach up and wrap my fingers around his forearm, giving him an affectionate squeeze. For just a second, I think about how I’ve inadvertently treated him very poorly. Both of my closest friends found out about him on accident. Owen took one look at him and thought him questionable at best. Brooke thought he was some player who only cared about trading up when the time came; someone she could manipulate to get her way. He’s not like that at all. Not even a little bit. These are things my friends might know if I hadn’t kept him a secret—if I had just brought him around and told them the truth, giving them the chance to know him. The real him.
“I brought this on myself, Coder. I can’t hide from it, no matter how much I want to. You were right. I should have told her a long time ago.”
Gripping my neck, he informs me, “You were right, too. Saw it with my own eyes—at the party, then again yesterday morning.”
“Yeah, I suppose,” I murmur with a noncommittal shrug.
“Just come over if you want, yeah? You don’t even have to call. I’ll be here.”
“’Kay,” I reply with a nod.
“Good.” He presses a kiss against my forehead, giving my neck another pinch before he lets me go. “Twenty minutes, babe. I mean it this time, or you’ll be late.”
I groan, smacking his chest as I fight a grin. “You did that on purpose.”
He chuckles, winking at me before swatting at my backside. “Nineteen minutes and fifty-one seconds.”
“I hate you,” I tease, heading for my bag to snatch up my change of clothes.
“No you don’t.”
“I do right now!”
“Bet a kiss would tell me otherwise.”
As he speaks the words, I can feel his body heat right behind me. Giggling, I turn around and find him exactly where I suspected. I plant a kiss in the middle of his chest, just above his tattoo, and tell him, “Yeah, you’re right. Let’s not test that theory. I might not make it to class at all.” He grins at me, making my skin break out in goose pimples, and I hurry around him, racing to the bathroom before I kiss him first.
I don’t have time to run into the apartment by the time Coder drops me off. After the quickest kiss goodbye we’ve ever exchanged, (which still lasts at least thirty seconds, his demand for more tongue hard to refuse) I bolt to my car and race for campus. I’m five minutes late for class, but all things considered, I think that’s pretty good.
When I return home to eat before my shift at work, Brooke is in her room with the door closed. She doesn’t come out, and I don’t hear her make a sound, but I know she’s there. I saw her car in the parking lot. To be honest, I’m a bit relieved that she’s keeping herself tucked away. I’m not entirely sure that I’m ready to talk it out with her just yet. She hasn’t even attempted to apologize to me.
Deciding that if I think too much about it, I’ll get upset all over again, I don’t dwell on it. Instead, I take advantage of my opportunity to slip in and slip back out, leaving just as quietly as I arrived.
The hours spent behind the front counter at the drug store are unending. While I wait through the long stretches of time between each customer, I straighten stock, wondering what else I could be doing—not just here, but in general. My parents were gracious enough to offer to pay for college, including a portion of my rent. They wanted me to be able to spend as much time on my studies as was necessary. They also thought it important that I be available to keep my volunteer hours—something I agreed with wholeheartedly. Though, they’d never be okay with me being out of work completely. Both mom and dad have always taught Beckham and me the value of work and the importance of work/life balance, not to mention all the other life skills that are taught simply by being an employee of one organization or another.
Dad made it clear that I would be responsible for some of my financial needs—like utilities, internet, and food, along with gas and insurance for my car—but he’s always been adamant about taking the brunt of my living costs. That being said, I could work anywhere I wanted to. Why I allow myself to stay in this boring place, I’m not sure. Then again, for so long, all I’ve ever wanted was to be a pediatric surgeon who dedicated my career to fighting cancer. What I did on my journey to said destination was irrelevant. Now that I’m not so sure what I want, my options don’t seem endless, but impossible. Giving up my dream is no small decision. In fact, it’s one that weighs on me every day. I honestly don’t even know where I’d begin to start looking for an alternative option.
When my shift is finally over, all I want to do is go home and go to bed. I scan the parking lot for Brooke’s car on the way inside, but I don’t see it. As soon as I’ve got the front door open, I know that she’s not home. It’s after ten, which isn’t exactly late, but not exactly early either—at least, not on a Monday—and I wonder where she is. My curiosity tickles at me only for a minute. Locking the door behind me, I discard it, reminding myself that she’s a big girl and she can take care of herself.
As soon as I’m finished getting ready for bed, I shut off all of the lights and climb under my covers, resting my head on my pillow as I call Coder.
“Hey, babe,” he answers on the third ring.
I smile, happy to hear the sound of his voice after missing it all day. “Hi.”
“You good?”
“Yeah. She’s not here. I haven’t seen her all day. No drama to report.”
“Good.”
“What are you doing?” I ask, for no other reason than that I’m not ready to hang up yet.
“Drinking a beer, watching TV. You?”
“Nothing. I’m about to go to sleep—I just wanted to say hi.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah? Lunch?”
“Oh, um, actually…” My sentence trails off as I think about what happened Saturday with Lena. Even with all my stupid personal stuff going on, I haven’t forgotten about her. I really want to know how she’s doing. Given her incredibly fragile state, waiting until Saturday to visit her again seems too far away.
“Babe?”
“I was actually thinking of going to the children’s hospital tomorrow afternoon. I want to check on Lena.”
He doesn’t say anything for a moment, and I bite my lip, wondering what he’s thinking. Tuesday afternoons have kind of become our thing. Sure, I go to the shop other times, but since our Lazy Suzie’s lunch, it’s sort of become an unspoken ritual—one that I’ll be neglecting tomorrow for the first time in weeks.
“You want some company?” he asks, taking me completely by surprise.
I prop myself up on my elbow, gaping at nothing in the darkness as I ask, “You want to come?”
“Do you want me to?”
Closing my eyes, I remember how terrified I was the last time I stood by Lena’s bedside. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel a little nervous about seeing her tomorrow. Actually, just the thought of walking into the hospital makes me anxious. I’ve seen kids vomit before. I’ve even helped clean them up. But it’s never been like that. I’ve never seen anyone cough up so much blood, and I don’t think I’ve ever been so scared in all of my life.
“Babe?”
“Yes,” I whisper, sure that his company is exactly what I want, and grateful that he thought to suggest it. “Please come.”
Without a hint of hesitation, he tells me, “I’ll meet you there.”
My heart swells and I relax against my pillow once more, wondering how in the world I got to be so lucky. “Okay.”
“Get some sleep.”
“I will.”
“Night, Mack.”
“Goodnight, honey.”