I could tell he was angry, and had there been another guy—regardless of what it looked like to everyone else—he would have had the right to be upset.
It bothered me that he thought I was that kind of girl, but what was he supposed to think? Jodi had mentioned Joe the night before, and Jyl had brought him up too.
Shit, it looked bad.
I didn’t want him thinking I was some slut who got around. I didn’t give a shit if things were about to end with him, I wasn’t a hooch like that, and he needed to know it.
Old Dana had had her fun, but not even she would have juggled two guys at the same time.
Okay, correction. I was really starting to give a shit that things were about to end, but I was smart enough to be prepared. That had always been the plan.
Have one last farewell fling, then grow up.
Thing was, in the course of the past month, I felt like I’d changed more than I’d expected to. I wanted completely different things than I had when I’d started talking to Cord.
More importantly, I wanted them for real.
Each day I spent with Cord was making the whole plan suck. Sometimes, I wished I’d never even talked to him because he was a good guy. A great guy.
At least I knew I wasn’t broken. That I could feel serious about someone.
That afternoon was lazy, I went and took a nap when the guys settled downstairs on the couches watching baseball.
We ordered pizza, but I couldn’t eat much.
I felt like a scumbag.
After what felt like an eternity, everyone retired to their rooms, and when the house got quiet, I left my room and slipped down stairs.
Trevor was on the back patio on his phone, and both Nolan and Cord were asleep in front of the television which was playing a rerun of that show about tiny homes. I’d seen that one before.
I didn’t want to wake up Nolan, so I silently walked over to Cord and nudged his leg. He took a deep breath, and his eyes sprung open.
I put my finger over my mouth and nodded for the hall. I’d over heard them talking about sleeping arrangements and he was sleeping in the extra guest room in the basement, the one beside Jyl.
He sat up and looked at Nolan who was drooling. He stood, stretched, and walked down the hall, I followed.
I hadn’t slept for shit the past two nights, and, before I even thought about trying to sleep, I wanted to get a few things off my chest.
Inside his room, he clicked the door shut. There was a half window on one side of the room, and a faint amber light from the landscaping outside filtered in through the open blinds.
He found my arm, and his fingers trailed to my hand as he walked us to the bed.
Without a word, he took his shirt off and his shorts, and then he pulled back the blankets and got into them in his boxer briefs. I was only dressed in a tank top and my purple sweats, but I left them on the floor next to his clothes before I climbed in next to him.
I worked myself into the hollow space between his chest and his arm while he lifted my thigh to pull me closer.
“Trevor came to your house a few weeks ago when you were in the shower. He saw me, and then just sort of left.”
Cord picked up my hand and kissed it. My eyes fell shut. That always made my stomach tighten, and it would be one of the things I missed about him the most.
I took a breath and returned a kiss to the side of his pec, then continued. “We didn’t talk, and I don’t know if he’s said anything about it, but feel like I should have mentioned it before.”
He let go of my hand, laying it on his shoulder, and again his big hands wandered down my body.
Soon he was pulling me on top of him, and I went willingly. My right leg fell to the other side of him and my foot snuggled under his calf. I rested my cheek on his chest, and the few hairs he had there tickled my face.
“And I’m glad you’re the kind of guy who wouldn’t want to be some chick’s side action. You deserve someone who wouldn’t put you in that position.”
I glanced up, his head was propped on the pillow behind him.
“You’re not that kind of girl though, are you?”
His hands tightened on my back side as I shook my head no.
“Let me touch you.” He already was.
“No. Let me touch you.”
He’d done so much for us that weekend, and then with the whole Joe confusion, I wanted to take care of him. I had a lot of appreciation to show.
The way he smelled having showered—sadly without me—turned me on. Same as always. His skin was so warm against my mine, and his muscles rippled under each kiss I placed on his chest.
I crawled down the length of his body, and he parted his legs for me to lie between them.
He watched me, and I watched him back, feeding off the hunger in his dark eyes.
When I met fabric with my mouth, I pulled it down to the side and pressed my lips against the valley of his hip. My other hand roamed across the ridges of his stomach, and I doubted if I’d ever been so excited to please a man in all my life.
It wasn’t about what I would get in return or how I turned him on. It wasn’t about me at all.
It was all about him.
Through his briefs, my hand stroked him feeling the crook between my thumb and index finger. A delicious sound came from above as he pushed back against the pillow.
I climbed to one side and pulled his underwear off, and then returned to where I was.
I’d missed too many opportunities to please him, mostly because he was usually busy blowing my mind. I had no doubt I’d be satisfied before I left his room, but first I was tasting him.
Hard. Strong. Ready. I’d felt him countless times in my hand, but this was different.
I licked him base to tip. Underneath and to the end, and then all along the top. My mouth was everywhere, side to side, making him slick. His skin moved with my tongue, and I flattened it to touch more of him.
I held his gaze as I licked my palms, and then I stroked him into my open mouth.
“Fuck.” The word was only loud enough for me to barely hear over our breathing. Then he lifted and pushed himself past my waiting lips.
The sound of him scratching the sheets beside us sent an arousing chill up my back, and I took him in as far as I possibly could, nearly to the point of rejection from my throat.
Sucking cock was messy business, but when you were as turned on as I was—and as he was too—the wetter the better, and the sounds made it even more elicit.
Hotter. Sexier.
He was polite and didn’t smash himself into my face, letting me determine the depth and pressure, and it only made me want to give him more.
My hands kept time with my head, and I found myself aching and needy as I observed him and became familiar with his breathing.
Deep inhales. Long pauses. Rushed exhales. Repeat.
His legs quavered from my tormenting, yet steady, pace. I dipped low, and the end of him pressed against the back of my mouth. I moaned, and I deliberately shook my head. My eyes never leaving his.
“God, yes. Suck me.” He swiped the hair off my shoulders only to gather it in his fist, but he didn’t push or pull. He only held on.
There were times when his stamina was almost unrivaled, and times when he fucked me hard and fast, but the need to make him come with my mouth was so strong that I refused to stop until he did.
“Ah, Dana.”
Restless I shifted, my untouched arousal had me wanton, but I kept one hand on his cock and increased my speed while my other hand freely roamed over parts of him I’d never explored. He was neatly groomed, but still insanely masculine, and I found a sensitive spot tucked behind his sack that had him gasping. When I firmly pressed against it with the tips of my fingers and massaged, it elicited a desperate sound something between a moan and begging.
No longer were we connected by our eyes, his head had fallen to the side. He was everything manly and powerful, but at that moment I held his pleasure in my hands, and I didn’t take it for granted.
I found that I was moaning as much as he was, and as his orgasm drew near, he held my face in his hands.
“I’m going to come. I’m going to come.” He pleaded with me, over and over, but I didn’t pull away.
I wanted him to.
I wanted to feel him pulse against my tongue.
I wanted to be solely responsible for his ecstasy.
“Dana. Oh. Oh, fuck Dana, yes.” His voice strained, and his entire body flexed. I’d never felt as sexy or desired or powerful as when he said my name like that. Like I was all he needed.
I took every drop he gave me, and when I was done, I crawled up his stomach, unsure of whether he’d want to kiss me or not.
I didn’t have to wonder long.
His mouth found mine, fevered and without hesitation. His arms wrapped around me, unfastened my bra, and then he threw it to the side.
In a quick maneuver, Cord rolled me to my back, sat up to pull my underwear off, and kissed my left ankle as he moved it to the other side of him. His mouth hungrily sampled and bit up to my knee, and then he bent to kiss his way to my center.
He was talented, but I wanted more than his mouth. If he wasn’t inside me soon, I’d die right there in the bed.
“Fuck me.”
His answer was taking my sex into his mouth, but I tried to pull away.
“No, Dana. Dammit, I want this.”
I was so sensitive at that point, each sensation was intensified. My elbows dug into the top of the bed, and I pulled away from him.
It’s too much.
Grabbing me by my hips, he heaved me right back.
“Please,” I half-heartedly begged. “I need you.”
After one last moan against me, he sat back and crept toward my center. His thighs against mine, he hovered over me and hooked both of my knees in the bends of his arms, hitching them up.
I was open to him. Desperate and bound by him. He flexed his hips, running himself through my wet flesh, and then he arched, met his forehead with mine and slid inside me.
I panted, feeling him sink straight into my center. Even, from only that first connection between us, satisfaction fizzed like champagne bubbles under my skin.
Body to body, we met flush.
Spread like I was, I stretched around him. When he pushed even deeper, my body’s natural resistance combined with the pressure of him grinding against my clit, created a sensation that was both massive and exquisite.
“Cord.”
“Is that what you want?”
“Ah. Ah. Yes.” I grabbed onto his back, feeling his muscles flex as he ground into me.
“Like this?”
“Yes,” I repeated, using the only word I could find. I must have said it over and over, answering every erotic question the same way.
Except one.
He gathered my legs to one side, never pulling free of me, and as he pounded into me, he asked in my ear.
“Do you love me?”
I came but didn’t answer.
I must have fallen asleep, spent and satiated in his arms, and when I woke up, I quietly slipped out of them and back to my room just as the sun was coming up.
I climbed into my cold sheets and tried to fall back asleep, but his last words were too loud for me to find any peace.
Everything had been so simple when we’d started our tryst. It was only going to be until the wedding, or until he lost interest.
In my experience, love was where men like Cord drew the line.
Even though I didn’t answer, just by him asking had told me everything I needed to know.
Things would slow down.
His calls would become less frequent.
His interest would move on.
And I wouldn’t have to do a thing.
I’d never fallen in love with the men I’d dated before, but when they thought you were about to, or that it was likely, they’d vanished. Players didn’t catch feelings, and up until that morning, I hadn’t recognized the old me had been the biggest one.
I’d had my fun, a grand farewell to that lifestyle, an affair that I wouldn’t soon forget. At least I didn’t have to think about how I was going to end things anymore.
With that one question, I knew. He would gracefully do it for the both of us.
I was weary, and my eyes burned as I finally wandered back to sleep, but it was fretful, and eventually I gave up.
Jodi wanted to get back, so we were the first two that morning to pack up and head out. I was glad for the company and distraction, and for the fact that she’d agreed to drive.
Going home after vacation or a long weekend was always depressing, and I supposed I had to look at my relationship with Cord in the same way.
It was fun while it lasted.