CHAPTER TEN
“I’m not even here,” a male voice says, though clearly, he is.
I scramble to make myself decent.
“You know the rules,” Patrick says.
“I know, but it’s an emergency.”
A guy comes into the room bearing a family resemblance.
“This is my little brother, Jay,” Patrick says. “He goes to Queens College and sometimes visits.”
“Nice to meet you,” he says to me and shakes my hand. He makes his way into the fridge, pretty much ignoring us. “Is it all gone,” he says, asking of the gelato.
“Why are you here?” Patrick asks.
“Cass kicked me out of the shop,” he says.
“I’m about to do the same. Do you actually want anything?”
He goes to the fridge and takes out a six-pack, then heads to the door. “Thanks, big bro,” he says as he leaves.
Patrick turns his attention back to me. “Where were we?”
I want to ask him about his little brother, but I want him more. It takes no time to get the sparks flying, and we continue our make out session. We take turns pinning the other against the counter, tasting each other and taking the lead, like a waltz of dominance.
We make our way to the couch where he lies on top of me and begins a horizontal exploration of my body. His hands are under my shirt against my bare skin. They’re slightly rough, like someone who works out a lot or with his hands.
He grinds his hips into mine, a sword fight ensuing through our pants.
The rhythm of his grinding is interrupted by vibration. “Ignore it,” he says.
His phone goes off again and he goes to grab it, but I stop him. It’s an interesting sensation, and I wonder if we haven’t stumbled onto something.
He smiles then keeps kissing me. The third time it goes off he finally answers.
“What?!” He says in a gruff to the person on the other end.
“Why aren’t you answering your phone?” I can hear his sister say on the other end.
“I’m obviously busy,” he says. “Do you want something?”
I ignore their conversation and instead focus on his chest. It’s muscular and hairy, which turns me on. I run my fingers through it as he talks, playing with his nipples with my fingers, brushing and pinching them with varying amounts of pressure.
I watch as he smiles then closes his eyes. His breathing gets heavier, then deeper and more rapid.
“What are you doing?” I hear through the phone.
“Hanging up,” he says.
“Are you there with Danny? You perv. And you’re talking to me at the same…”
He hangs up the phone and rips my shirt open. He tongue lashes my chest and pays the attention I’ve paid to his nipples back in kind. He grabs and pinches with a pressure that makes me moan. I grab his head, running my fingers through his hair as he licks and bites my nipples to the point that I can no longer stand it.
I let out a whimper and a moan and try to stop him before I spontaneously ejaculate.
It’s too late.
When my eyes open his are staring into mine. He’s smiling, so I do the same, though I’m a mess of confusion. “That’s never happened,” I say.
He kisses me deeply. “First time for everything,” he says.
He gets up from on top of me. I go to move but he stops me. He looks down at me and stares for a moment.
I must look a hot mess; my hair tussled, my shirt ripped open, a wet spot penetrating through my pants.
“Mmm,” he says. “Don’t move.”
I lay on the couch waiting for him. I run my fingers through my hair and let out a deep exhale. I close my eyes and rub my hand across my chest. I’m sweating like a pig.
He comes back with a towel but refuses to give it to me. Instead, he stands looking over and smiles. He’s licking his lips and I can see the bulge in his pants jump.
“Your turn,” I say, and go to get up.
He throws the towel, stopping me. “I need to check on my sister at the shop,” he says.
“Oh,” I say, “okay.” I’m about to scramble to wipe myself down and go but he stops me again.
“It’s not for long,” he says. “You can stay here and wait for me if you want. I’ll be maybe 15 or 20 minutes.”
“Are you sure?”
He laughs. “Just don’t throw up in the sink this time.”
I throw the towel back at him.
He kisses me then runs out.
I lay there for a moment until reminded by the running wetness in my pants that I need a shower.
I do my best thinking in the shower. Supposedly, it’s because of sensory deprivation. I let my mind wander about what just happened and what all is happening.
The water washes off the heat and the steam opens up more than just my pores. It has my mind open to possibilities, such as the possibility that Patrick is really as great a guy as I think he is. He’s certainly a steamy lover, making me come without any direct stimulation. That’s a first along with everything else that’s happened in the short time we’ve known each other.
The soap stings for a moment, as if to remind me of the pain of reality. Or the pain of falling for someone again. At least this time it’s more appropriate, i.e., no one I work for or with. Still, something in me is afraid.
My legs are shaking now, reminding me that getting back on the horse isn’t as easy as just saying it. But as I wash, the throbbing between my legs lets me know of an eagerness to try.
I wonder for a moment what Patrick is doing to me. I feel different, better, so whatever it is must be a good thing.
There’s a knock at the door and I wonder if Patrick has any more family members he hasn’t told me about.
“Just a second,” I yell, but the door already opens.
“You don’t have to rush on account of me.” It’s Patrick. He has a plastic bag in his hand. “False alarm at the shop,” he says, “but stopped off at the store.”
I smile, pretty sure I know what supplies he bought.
“Can I join,” he asks, already pulling off his shirt.
My eyes and smile answer.
I watch him undress. It’s the first time I’ve seen him naked, and the sight is remarkable. His arm is tattooed, completely up to his shoulder, which is bulging and the size of a grapefruit. I knew from our bodily explorations and from his strength overpowering me that he spent much more time at the gym than I did. His muscles flex without trying as he takes off his clothes. His thighs are muscular, strong enough to grind someone into spontaneous combustion. They’re masculine, covered in tufts of dark hair like the rest of his body.
The sight leaves me drooling from several places and I’m overly eager for him to join me in the shower, which thankfully he does.
I’m thankful for the anti-slip lining the tub, as we’d have surely slipped and fallen from our commotion.
He first lathers me with soap, then uses his body as a sponge. He grinds against me, our bodies working up a heat and lather that the water tries to cool and wash away.
He’s definitely having a profound effect on me. As he holds me and kisses my neck from behind, a wave of surrender takes over me. At that moment I decide that I’m going to give myself to him. But that also fills me with panic.
“Hey,” I tell him, “I have a confession to make.”
“Is this about Cuddles again?” He whispers in my ear. “Meow,” he says.
I laugh. “Ha ha,” I say. “No, it’s just that—“
“You already told me,” he says.
“Did I?”
“The first night we met,” he says. “Which it now dawns on me that you probably don’t remember.”
“What did I tell you?”
“That’s it’s been awhile. That you were heart broken. Which position you played. I know that the only other person you let inside of you broke your heart. I’m not pressuring you. I wouldn’t do that. I’d be happy holding and ravishing you until the point of spontaneous combustion.”
I turn around and kiss him.
“I guess those supplies are for me?”
“They’re for just in case,” he says.
“Okay,” I say.
“No pressure,” he says.
“Get out,” I tell him through a promising smile. “It’ll be worth the wait.”