My bicep was burning and I wasn't certain I could feel some of my fingers anymore. The grip I had on my shaft was unforgiving, but I was too far down this path for any of that to matter. I was right there, teetering with little more than a toehold on my orgasm, my sanity, myconsciousness.
"Owen," Igasped.
Even in this state, calling for him seemed like a step over the line. But the man between my legs, the Imaginary Finger-Fucking Owen, was nodding, granting me permission to fall over theedge.
"Give it to me now," he commanded. "Rightnow."
In my mind, Owen was still kneeling between my legs, the hand on his cock moving in time with the fingers in my ass. That sharp grin was still in place, and it deepened each time he traced my prostate. Instead of grinding my teeth in blissful agony, I melted into that all-the-shivers-and-goose-bumps sensation. He whispered "Mine" every time I quivered under his touch, and I nodded inagreement.
One spurt after another landed on my belly, my shoulder, the pillow. I heard a shuddering breath from Owen, and then he pounded the wall several times as he snarled and hummed. I could picture him spilling into his hand, his chest heaving and his lips parting as he growled through hisrelease.
I was crying out and convulsing, and clinging to the quilt as if it could keep me from drifting away. But it was as though these things were happening outside of me, and I was observing them from a detached distance. Inside, I was sliding into the deep mellow of an earth-rocking orgasm. Static filled my ears and my eyelids were too heavy to lift, and every muscle in my body eased until I was nothing more than a blob of satisfiedjelly.
I hated the slimy, squishy feel of semen drying on my skin but I didn't possess the strength to clean it off. I couldn't even lift my arm and reach for a tissue from the bedsidetable.
Bedsprings squealed on the other side of the wall, and I knew he was tucked in for the night. A part of me—not a small part—hoped he'd trudge over here with his palm full of jizz and ask me what I planned to do about it. Hoped he'd flip me over and force me facedown on the mattress. Hoped he'd drag his thick fingers through my hair and curl up besideme.
"Good night, McClish," Owencalled.
He sounded drowsy and loose, and I liked it. I wanted to get him in this stateagain.
"Good night, Bartlett," Ireplied.
A warm, sated smile tugged at my lips as I drifted off. Before sleep pulled me under, a voice in the back of my head asked,What did we justdo?
10
Full and By
adv. Sailing with all sails full and lying as near the wind aspossible.
Owen
I slammedthe refrigerator door shut and moved to the pantry. "Too late to make chili," I said to myself. "Too late forgoodchili."
"There's a whole haddock packed in ice," Colecalled.
He was perched on the countertop, his legs hanging loose and his arms braced behind him. His skin was glowing from another sunny day on the water and his hair wind-blown. He looked like an offering, and I could only shoot quick glimpses in his direction or suffer a full-body spasm of need.Again.
I didn't know what the hell had happened last night. One minute I was lusting over athletic shorts, the next I was pressed flat against my bedroom wall and racing to keep up with Cole's strokes. Then there were his sounds and my sounds andoh my God. I didn't know how I was supposed to feel after masturbating with my presumably straight houseguest, so I felt a bit of everything. Excitement, anxiety, affection, amusement, shock. All of that, and a little bit ofshame.
Shame wasn't an emotion I allowed myself but I couldn't think about last night without simmering in embarrassment.How did I let it go that far? What was I thinking?That was just it—I didn't think. Not with the head on myshoulders.
And now I'd spent the day trying to look Cole in the eye and talk about lobsters like last night was nothing more than a weird dream. Wasn't that the truth. I didn't even know this man, not really, and I was allowing myself to build these sandcastle feelings. It was dangerous, and I knew better. Summer love wasn't for me, and neither was this man. He wasn't here to stay, and he wasn't here for me. He was running away from something I didn't want to explore, but I couldn't help myself from wanting to care for him. Ease histroubles.
I snorted at that thought. Histroublesweren't the only things I wanted to ease. I was in it with this guy, and it wasn't just me. Cole had participated too. He didn't instigate it but he certainly took an otherwise excusable situation to anotherlevel.
Even as evening settled down around us, I didn't know where I stood—westood—after last night. I had an educated guess, of course. We'd shared some beers with dinner and a few more while watching the game, and liquor often blurred sexuality's not-so-tidyboxes.
Liquor was a champ when it came to taking theblame.
Not that there was much blame to go around. Jerking off with a wall between us wasn't arrow-straight, but it wasn't a subscription to the Bear of the Month club either. There was room on the rainbow foreveryone.
And now I was rationalizing. Might as well explain it away before my hopes climbed all the way up and started planning some kind of future with Cole. How fucking ridiculous was that? There wasn't going to be any of that. His boat would be fixed soon enough, he'd set sail, and then I'd be right back where I always was—wondering why I'd given everything to someone who couldn't spare anything forme.
Not this time. No future, nous.
When I woke up this morning, hard, mortified, hungry for more, I decided I'd handle this the only way I knew how—hunkering down in my foul mood. I'd pushed Cole away with grouchy scowls and short-tempered barks all day. Avoided discussion of last night so hard I started to wonder whether it actually happened. Feigned disinterest in his chatter though I was silently soaking it all up. Busied myself with the radio, the engine, the maps—anything to keep my eyes off him. I pushed him away before he could pushme.
