PAST

NORA—Thursday, July 3, 2008

I’d never wanted someone so desperately, but were we worth it? I didn’t know. Regardless, what did I have to lose by listening? I needed to hear what he had to say.

I sat on the edge of my couch staring off into space, thinking. I wanted to stay for him, but I wasn’t sure if I wanted him to feel like I was just rolling over. Doing what he told me to do.

I was curious but cautious. I was scared, and I didn’t know what I was getting myself into.

So, I did what I needed to do, made a call, and it actually worked out for the best.

He wouldn’t be gone long. So I went to my room, took off my dress and heels, threw a long t-shirt over my head, and heard him knocking when I walked back out.

I didn’t rush though. I was so unsure of everything still, but there was only one way to find out what he meant by, “Things changed.”

I was dying to know what he was thinking. Something had shifted. I remembered feeling it the night before, too.

I tried to be as quiet as a mouse as I pressed against the peephole. Maybe seeing him would give me a clue as to what he thought because I needed insight. Through the glass, he stood tall.

He looked patient, but then he didn’t. His hand lifted to knock again and instead he looked at his watch, then down the hall to the elevators.

I felt guilty spying on him, but I also liked the glimpse.

On his face, I saw excitement. Nerves. Anticipation. All things I could relate to. I felt much the same way.

With my hand on the door knob, I took a deep breath and opened it. I was aware of what I wanted to happen.

His face was hopeful, yet still very stoic. Very Reagan.

“Did he pick her up?” I asked as I opened the door half way.

He looked down my body, noticing I’d changed right away. When he got to my bare feet, he let out a breath that looked like insurmountable relief.

“He did,” he answered and shook out one of his hands. “You’re not leaving?”

What was I to say?

“They canceled.” I watched for his reaction, but he didn’t give away much now that the door was open.

He said calmly, much more relaxed than he’d been earlier, “Can we talk?”

I knew what the end result would be, and I’d been waiting for it. I’d tried to ignore my feelings, but I couldn’t anymore.

I wanted him.

We’d probably talk for hours, but I knew there was a good chance I’d change my mind. I’d have time to second guess what I felt, and I just wanted to be in the moment. In this case, there was no benefiting from my doubt.

Still, I couldn’t fight it. I had to sample him, knowing full well I might not be satisfied with only a taste. I wanted to feel him, savor him, touch him, and I wanted to do it before I had a chance to let my head catch up.

“We could talk all night, Reagan. Or...” I said widening the door for him to pass by. He walked in, and I locked it.

“Or...?” he queried. I stepped closer to him and couldn’t help but feel like he was mildly uncomfortable, which mysteriously made me feel more confident. We were chest to chest, and his hands were still at his sides, not reaching out to touch me like he had before.

“Or we could give in to it and see what it feels like before we even worry about it.” I leaned up to kiss him, but his eyes gave me pause. “Let’s see if it’s worth it,” I said, and he swallowed hard, his neck moving right in front of me.

I placed a kiss on his Adam’s apple and rubbed it with my thumb.

His hands closed in on my waist.

Looking up at him, I added, “If it is, we can talk about it tomorrow.”

“I need you to be very clear here because I’m seconds away from...”

I interrupted with a finger on his stern lips. “I want you to fuck me, Reagan.”

His eyes closed and his jaw tensed, then in a voice that made my blinking slow and my heart hammer, he requested, “Nora, say it again. Please.”

I gave it zero thought. “I want you to fuck me.”

His hand touched my cheek, then his lips pressed to mine. I lifted myself higher to reach more of him, up on the balls of my feet.

Reagan kissed me. There was no doubt about it, and I let him.

He held my face in his hands and leaned down into me, too. Tipping his head slightly to claim more of my mouth. His tongue swept across both my lips, and like the tiny move was the magic password, I opened them more for him.

And I loved it.

He was a glass of water on a hot day, quenching. A long bath after hours of work, inviting. This kiss was the lightning you see before a storm, and I prepared myself for all of hell to break loose.

He might have had a silver tongue for conversation, but it was gold at kissing.

He exchanged my face for my ass in his strong hands, and he pulled me closer. My arms wrapped around him for stability, and because it felt so natural to do it. He dipped and slid his hands along my thighs and hoisted me up, straightening with my encircled legs around his waist. I linked my feet behind him and gave a little squeeze, earning the most divine moan in history.

I replied with one in kind as he walked us somewhere. I wasn’t concerned, I was too busy moving my lips down his jaw, finding he was warm and delicious everywhere. When I reached the spot below his ear, he breathed fuck on an exhale that sounded somewhere in between a prayer and a growl.

We lowered, and I peeked to see that we were still in the living room and sitting on the ottoman at the end of my chaise lounge. With his hands free, he took advantage. They wandered under my top, one ran up my back, and the other cupped my breast. As he kneaded, I kissed him back harder, until I couldn’t take how good his dominant touch felt on my skin, and my head tipped back.

Reagan rewarded me with another moan as I ground into him, and he passionately attacked my neck.

It all felt so good, and I wanted to take my time. However, something else was killing me. I wanted to see him, all of him. Feel him. When that notion became clear to me, my hands tampered with his belt trying to make their way to him.

I scooted back to get better access. When his belt was free, he ripped it away and threw it across the room and then lifted my old jersey shirt over my head.

I fumbled with his button and then worked his zipper. Frantically, like a child opening a birthday present with candle smoke still in the air. It was urgent.

What if suddenly I changed my mind?

What if he changed his?

“Nora,” he said peppering kisses across my shoulder, but I thought it was rhetorical and stayed focused on my prize.

“Nora,” he repeated but didn’t raise his voice. “Baby, slow down.”

Baby.

My fingers slowed, before reaching him. I didn’t know how I felt about that term, but it caught my attention, so I met his eyes. They were a much warmer brown, almost like honey and he looked genuine when he said, “There’s no need to rush. I’ll give it to you. Slow down a minute. Let me look at you.”

But I wanted to look at him.

With a gentle hand, he pushed me back, and I reclined for him. He made a low rumble, then his mouth licked and sucked at my chest as he unhooked my bra from the back. He nimbly pulled the front of it away, exposing me. I didn’t have large, bouncing breasts. I had small ones, nothing to write home about.

He’d see this, and I’d be allowed to continue.

He leaned back a little to get a full view, and his eyes scored my skin, leaving no spot unseen. It made me anxious, like I was being examined. I wasn’t used to, nor had I ever craved, that type of attention. He brushed the pad of his thumb over my nipple. His expression was too much, so I diverted my attention to what he was doing instead.

That relaxed me immensely. I’d fantasized about watching him do similar things to me. Only in my dreams, I was a third party watching it all happen. It was different in the moment. I was experiencing it, not observing it.

“Stand up for me,” he requested.

Again, my body obeyed. I put a foot on the floor and leaned my weight on it. Not satisfied with my near compliance, Reagan moved my other leg so that it was on the floor too, and pitched forward to kiss my belly. He ran a hand smoothly up the back of my leg, up my ass to the top of my underwear, then tucked his fingers under the edge to lower them, bringing his hand to the front when they became stubborn.

I ran a hand through his hair, feeling like I was being studied. It made me self-conscious standing there completely naked, my underwear at my feet, as he took me in.

He glanced up at me and read something in my expression. “Are you okay?” He didn’t look stern or the slightest bit aggressive in that moment. His face was relaxed, his parted lips slightly fuller and red from kissing.

I nodded.

He lifted his ass and pulled his pants off, kicking his shoes away at the same time.

Forgetting my exposure, I was distracted by his. He was groomed, and as he sat the muscles in his thighs flexed. He hung to the right. Totally gorgeous.

What a beautiful, perfect man.

I sat, straddling him, and helped him take off his shirt.

Maybe he had a point. I could slow down. As I worked the buttons, he watched my fingers, a smile on his lips. Then, he looked up at me again, handsome and pleased.

Oh, how I like that face.

He had many sexy looks, but that one was the best of them all. The stress he typically wore on his forehead had disappeared. The trepidation I’d recognized many times in his eyes all but vanished.

He kissed me again and feeling that smile pair with mine was incredible.

This was actually happening.

I pulled the shirt off his shoulders, and then he dragged his undershirt up his back and over his head. His bicep flexing in the process, and I placed a kiss on it, too.

Desperate, I inched my way closer to his stomach on his lap and lifted up on my knees. He ran his finger through his mouth, then touched me. Slipping his fingers through me for the first time and then running them back up the front to my clit where he stopped and teased me in circles.

I trembled, and an appreciative hum came from his chest.

When I braced myself on his shoulders and looked down, I found his eyes on me again, so I kissed him with everything I had.

Tongues. Lips. Breathing into each other as the moment propelled us both forward. I reached between us and ran a free hand down his cock. Soft skin, but rigid and stiff.

I moaned into his mouth as he applied just the right pressure to me, my grip tightening as I stroked him. Then, I added my other hand, and laced my fingers together, running him through my palms.

He slipped a finger inside me, and my legs felt weaker than before, my body instructed me to sit, to press down on him. He held me in place with his other arm, his fingers splayed across my side.

I moved my legs closer to him and began guiding him to me, then the reality of what I was about to do hit me.

“Reagan, do you have a condom?” I didn’t know his history. In turn, he didn’t know mine.

Where was my head?

I had some, but it would be much more convenient if he had one nearby. Say in a pocket.

“Shit. I’m sorry. In my wallet.”

I leaned over the side and reached down into the back of his pants and found it. When I offered it to him, he wasn’t willing to let go of me having directed his attention to my breasts once again. Unremarkable as they were, he seemed to like them just fine.

“Go head. It’s in with the bills,” he instructed.

It was hard to focus as he lightly bit and sucked on me. I had to blink a few times before I flipped it open above our heads. All the while I could feel him close to my entrance and I couldn’t help myself from rubbing against his length.

He chuckled around my nipple, the vibration almost leveled me. Then he said, “You don’t have to go slow with this part, Nora.” I smiled down at his cocky face. So, he was a little funny.

I found it, threw the wallet and ripped it open with my teeth, but I wasn’t fast enough and in one quick motion he lifted me and sat me down on his hard cock. It slipped right in, and I felt my shoulder slump from the sheer perfection of it.

“I didn’t put it on you yet,” I panted and lay my head against his shoulder.

“Goddammit. I know. I couldn’t wait. I can’t help myself. I had to see what you felt like first.”

I lifted up leisurely, enjoying the way he fit me. The sensation of his thickness against my most intimate skin caused a delicious friction. Then, I sat fully on him and rocked forward—just once. He was already there. What was the harm?

“I should have known better. Nothing will ever feel this good again,” he said into my neck, his arms holding me tightly to him.

His words were just as lovely as he felt, and I agreed.

I placed a kiss on his shoulder and lifted. I knew if I waited any longer, we’d abandon the condom altogether. I leaned to one side and rolled it over his tip. It fit tightly over him, and I couldn’t help but wonder if it was painful.

I knew I was clean, and I had an implant to prevent pregnancy, but we hadn’t had a discussion about it. I feared, had we stopped to do all of the talking he suggested, we wouldn’t be doing what we were.

I would have second guessed myself.

If excuses weren’t obvious, I would have created one eventually.

I would have missed out on how good he felt. How he tasted behind his ear. How his voice changed to something akin to music. Finally, a song I liked.

“I’m glad they canceled. I’m so fucking glad,” he said. It was becoming clear that Reagan was a vocal lover.

I liked it. The thick gravelly sound of his deep voice in my ear. It usually took me a while to warm up to talking during sex, and since I didn’t frequently have sex that wasn’t very common.

The tone he used was somewhere between the bold, confident one he used when being stubborn, and the gentler one he used when calm—which wasn’t all that often.

He was a big man, blessed by whatever higher power decided what size anatomy he was capable of handling. He was deliciously thick, and the way he stretched me was exquisite.

“I want you to tell me everything you like. Everything you want,” he said between kisses along my jaw.

I still couldn’t speak.

No. I was somewhere else, going up in flames as I sat myself on him once more.

His hand held onto the back of my neck and pulled my face back so that he could look at me, but I didn’t want to be looked at.

There was no way to know if I could tolerate his laser-like attention. Not only was it the first time I’d had sex in over six months, but it was the first time in years that I’d been in a one-on-one situation.

I’d never been more uncomfortable or turned on.

Feel it, Nora. Listen to your body.