I shouldn’t have opened the door. It’s been my experience that the person knocking on a door at this time is only someone baring bad news. Sometimes the bad news isn’t tragic. No, sometimes bad news comes in the form of a man, a broken man, who comes to you for comfort and understanding. The bad news for me is that the moment I opened the door and let him in, I knew I was hurting myself. Regardless of how much he needed me, I should have said no. I know I’m falling down the Owen Butler rabbit hole and nobody will save me, least of all him.
The knock was persistent but not loud. If I hadn’t been reading on the couch, I wouldn’t have heard it. I looked at my phone to see if I missed a text message. I hadn’t, but the time told me it was late. Much too late for a visitor who didn’t call first. Kicking aside the bright-red flags of warning, I unlocked and opened the door.
Standing on my porch was Owen. His head was down and his hand still raised to knock. When his head lifted and his eyes captured mine, my heart shattered. His beautiful eyes were cloudy, lines of distress evident. His posture was less self-assured than I’d ever seen him. No words were spoken. I extended my hand; he took it and I led him down the hall to my room.
He didn’t touch me. He simply stood in front of me, in the middle of the room, breathing slowly. His gaze distant, like a lost child searching for someone to help him. I ran my hands up his torso until they paused on his chest. He turned his attention to me, his tongue slowly licking his lips as I returned the movement, and continued my hands’ ascent up to his neck. Stepping up on my tippy toes, I tugged his mouth to mine. A gentle, closed-mouth kiss, slowly turned to more. His hands found my waist and pulled me to him, picking me up until I was level with him, my arms wrapped around his neck, and my toes brushed his shins.
Owen’s movements were gentle; the fire that burned in me from his touch was anything but. It felt like something more. We’ve slept together, but this moment, the gentle touches and the intensity of those touches, it was different. Maybe it’s because I’m coming to terms with the fact that I do have feelings for him, or maybe it’s that I want this to be more, but I want the fact that he came to me when he needed comfort to matter.
Never breaking our kiss, he gently laid me on the bed. I watched as he kicked off his shoes and pulled off his belt before slowly lowering himself to the bed. Owen hovered over me, raising up on his elbows with a hand on my cheek and his thumb on my lips. My breathing deliberate and slow, I was frightened. Not of the man, but of the way his stare pierced at my heart. Then he kissed me. Slow and with care.
I pushed my butt up, effectively thrusting up into his pelvis. A small moan in the back of his throat, my cue he didn’t mind my encouragement. I slid my hands up his back, tugging his shirt up until he was forced to break our kiss and allow me to pull the shirt off. When the shirt hits the floor, my hands glide across his back, tracing each line of every muscle as it flexed to my touch.
He shifted slightly, resting on an elbow, and his hand found the hem of my tank. Mimicking the move I made with his shirt, I found myself topless. There was no need to pretend this was anything other than what it was; without a second thought, I slipped off my sleep pants as Owen tugged off his pants. With only a thin layer of lace on my body and a piece of cotton on his, we laid there, quiet, with not a sound in the room other than our breathing.
Gliding his hands across my abdomen, I couldn’t help but instinctively suck in my stomach. I hate that I’m not as fit as I want to be. I’m curvaceous, or maybe it’s voluptuous. Whatever politically correct word of the moment is, I have curves. I know I’m not unattractive, but when this man is lying next to me naked, in his next-to-perfect body, it reminds me just how imperfect I am. How the extra ten pounds I carry are evident in my mid-section and ass.
Unaware of the battle in my head over my body, Owen reached down with his tongue and flicked my already-hard nipple. A shiver ran along my spine as goosebumps blanketed my skin. This response only encouraged him as he continued to lick, suck, and tug at my nipple. An equal opportunity boob man, he alternated between the two and I shifted my hips, searching for contact. Needing something … needing him.
Taking matters into my own hands, literally, I reached for and grabbed his hard dick from the hole in his boxers. Again, a moan from Owen tickled my skin, his breath warm and still sending shivers across my skin. His hand slid down to tug my panties aside. The moment he inserted a finger, it was my turn to moan, something that only encouraged him to begin pumping in and out of me. My grip on his dick tightened and, in perfect rhythm, I began pumping, matching his movements.
Owen captured my mouth as I let out a sound that took even me by surprise and inserted a second finger. The fullness was everything I needed. He picked up a rhythm, pumping his fingers, sucking and licking at my neck while I tried to maintain stroking him. I couldn’t do it; I released my hand and, in some sort of ecstasy cloud of passion, my arms were over my head and gripping the headboard as I rode the wave of my climax. The moment Owen shifted his body and took my nipple in his mouth, his thumb flicked my clit and I was lost. A thousand bolts of lightning flashed behind my eyelids as I arched my back, falling further down the rabbit hole than I thought possible.
I was recovering from the high I was just on when Owen moved from me and reached down to his pants. I knew he was reaching for a condom but I stopped him. I was making a pivotal decision for me, for both of us. I needed to feel everything. I need to feel … him.
All of him.
He hesitated but, without speaking a word, I looked into his eyes, my hands drifting to his hair. Gently running my fingers through his hair, I nodded and he smiled. A smile I could only wish for, a smile I wasn’t sure I’d ever see in my life from anyone else, and a smile I know I won’t see again from Owen.
I have the feelings I promised both of us wouldn’t happen. I’m falling for Owen. Or I have fallen. This is my goodbye to what will never be. To what he never wants and everything I can’t have.
In rapid pace, he shed his boxers and I shimmied out of my panties. He was quickly above me, hovering, when I paused and pushed him off and onto his back. If this was our last time together, I wanted to see him. I wanted to set the pace and make it last.
The smugness on his face only encouraged me. He has let me take charge before and probably assumed this was one of those moments. He doesn’t know it’s my goodbye.
Once I was straddled on either side of him, I lifted my ass, grabbing his dick and lining it up to me. Slowly, I slid down, letting him fill me, watching as his eyes closed and his back arched. My hands glided up to his chest and I waited for him to open his eyes. The moment I had his attention, I began moving my hips. At the same time Owen’s grip, strong and intense to each of my hips, tried to take over the pace of my moments. He should have known better, known I’ll have none of that.
I took his hands from my hips and lifted them over his head. The movement placed my breasts in his face and he seemed perfectly content with that option as he lifted his head and once again began the licking, nibbling, and sucking of my nipples. The change in sensations fueled my fire; my pace increased and I could feel the orgasm building. Owen moved his hands, lost in his own euphoria, and gripped my hips. Our mouths collided just as my orgasm hit, his kiss swallowing my scream as pure unadulterated pleasure consumed me.
As my heart slowed its rapid beats, I rested my head on Owen’s chest with him still inside me. As each of our breaths slowed and our rapid heartbeats found a slower rhythm, I realized no words had been spoken since he knocked on my door.
My heart shattered into a thousand jagged pieces.
“Ummm, why are these pancakes funny looking?” Arizona’s confusion draws me from my thoughts and the memories of last night.
“Oh, sorry, chickee. I messed up pouring them. They still taste just as yummy, I promise. Make sure you eat them while they’re warm.”
The girls were up early as usual and, thankfully, Owen was gone long before sunrise. I didn’t sleep much after he left. We finally spoke and he told me he’d had an argument with his dad. It was clear he wasn’t interested in discussing the specifics and I didn’t want to pry. He asked about my weekend and I told him I didn’t send the girls to my parents because I wanted some downtime with them. He didn’t apologize for coming over without calling or texting first and, as odd as I found it, I wanted to relish in the fact that he came to me.
I’d like to say when he left and I lay in my bed, feeling the warmth of his presence, I didn’t cry. That would be a lie. I did. I cried for the feelings I have for him and for the realization he’ll never reciprocate because that isn’t who he is.
Originally, I had grand plans for the day. Thankfully, I learned early on to never share plans with Ari because she has a memory like an elephant. Since she doesn’t know we were going to a park on the other side of town with the water pad, she won’t be disappointed with my new proposal.
“Chickadee, what do you say we have a PJ day?! We can build a fort, make snacks, and watch movies. Maybe we can even bake a cake later. What do you say?”
“I love cake!” she squeals and hops off her stool to do a happy dance.
“Okay, well, finish breakfast and then we’ll see what we can do about that fort.”
I manage to keep myself busy with the girls for a few hours before naptime. Since the fort turned into more of a tent with their blankets and pillows pulled from their beds, I left them to nap in the tent fort.
I’m cleaning up the kitchen a little and pulling the ingredients for the cake when my tablet signals an incoming call from Dakota. I glance at the microwave to check the time. Odd, it’s not her normal call time. I dry my hands and tap the icon and smile as my sister’s face fills the screen.
“Hey, this is a surprise.”
“I know but I couldn’t wait until tonight. I’ll still call later to talk to the girls. Are they napping? I have been waiting until naptime to call.” She’s obviously excited about something the way she’s bouncing in her seat.
“Yeah, they’re out like a light. I declared it PJ day so we’ve been bums all morning. I’m just pulling the stuff to bake a cake when they get up. Your daughter is quite the cake enthusiast.”
“Ah, a little woman after my own heart. I can never thank you enough, Min. Seriously. Everything you’ve sacrificed for us … just thank you.”
“Stop. So, why’d you call?”
“Oh, yes! Guess who is coming home next week?!”
“What?! Oh, my goodness! Dakota! That’s fantastic. I thought they said weeks?”
“They did, but after you and mom left I sat down with my counselor and I think I’m ready. I need to get back to my life. You need to get back to yours.”
“Are you sure you’re ready?” I ask. I appreciate the fact that she wants me to get back to my life, but at this point, I’m not even sure where my life is headed.
“Absolutely. I wouldn’t do this otherwise.”
“I’m thrilled. And I told you, I’m here to stay. I’ll move out eventually but I’m not leaving Lexington. I like it here.”
“And you like Owen. I know. Your man is there.”
I look off as she says that and don’t realize I’m crying until I hear the concern in her voice. Grabbing a paper towel, I wipe my eyes before looking back at the screen.
“Ah, lover boy still treating you like a booty call?”
“What? He’s never treated me,” I pause before finishing that sentence. Dakota has been telling me over the last week that Owen has, in fact, been treating me like a booty call. A piece of ass. A secret. But, that’s what we agreed to wasn’t it? Keeping it simple, no drama. That’s all we’ve been doing.
“Look, I know you’ve tried to keep this casual and whatever but a guy that only calls after ten at night and only comes over late for a quick fuck has you in his phone as ‘booty call.’”
“He calls and comes over late because of the kids. I didn’t want to confuse things.”
“Minnesota. This is me you’re talking to.” Her tone is maternal and bordering on the edge of annoyed. “I appreciate you putting the girls first. I do, I can’t thank you enough.” Dakota pauses. I can tell she’s gathering her thoughts; her emotions play across her face and I feel bad that my personal drama is even an issue. “I know you’re trying to protect them but it’s okay for them to meet your friends. I mean, I don’t want them seeing a guy naked or hear whatever awful noises you make when you’re having sex …” I begin to cut her off but Dakota smiles so I know she’s teasing.
“If I ever date again, and that is the biggest ‘if’ ever, explaining dating and male sleepovers will be my burden. It is not yours. The fact of the matter is, Owen has treated you the way you let him. Like a dark dirty secret that only happens when the sun sets and everyone else is asleep. You deserve better. I just hate that you don’t realize that.”
I let her words sink in. Did I let him treat me that way? I hadn’t thought of it that way, but now that she’s put it out there, maybe Dakota is right. And yet, no. I never once felt like he was keeping me a secret. Our lives are just busy and the only time we could get together was late. We didn’t just have sex. We talked, we watched movies, and we didn’t always have sex. Okay, we mostly always had sex, but that’s because what woman in her right mind would tell Owen no sex? Not this one.
“Owen didn’t treat me any other way than how I allowed him to. He’s not a bad guy, Dakota. He’s kind and gentle. He makes me laugh and I can be myself around him. The real me, not the robotic version I’ve been the last few years.” That is all true. Owen has brought out the old me, the real me, from where she laid dormant for the three years I was with Kent.
“If anything, I did this to myself. Owen and I agreed no feelings and no expectations. I promised if I started having feelings I’d end it. That’s what I was going to do and then he showed up last night.”
“Let me guess, late and for sex.” I could do without her judgment, but I guess this is what I get for unloading on my big sister.
“No. I mean, yes it was late but he was hurting. He’d had it out with his dad. Some twenty-year-old misunderstanding came to a head and he needed comfort.”
“In your vagina.”
“Dakota!”
“Just sayin’. Look, I’ve gotta go but just remember what I said. Maybe Owen isn’t a bad guy but you deserve more than being the girl the guy calls late at night. I love you, sister, and I want you to have happiness. You are deserving of all the wonderful things in life, Min. Maybe Owen is the guy to show you that or maybe he isn’t. Regardless, you need to get ahead of this before you fall in love.”
I don’t respond and, instead, let the tears fall freely.
“Shit. It’s too late, isn’t it?”
“It’s okay, it’s better to have loved and lost than not loved at all, right? I’ll be fine. Look, go do your stuff and call back in a few hours to talk to the girls.”
Dakota agrees and I disconnect our call. I knew when I opened my door last night, I needed to break things off with Owen. My conversation with Dakota confirms that. Try as I might, I’ll never convince myself that he sees me different. I’ve settled in the past. Settled for simplicity, comfort, and what’s easy. I won’t settle again.
As much as I don’t want to admit it to myself, the reality is even though I don’t want to be a booty call or a piece of ass … I just might be.