Nic chuckles beneath me, and I’m so glad she’s up for a joke.But, honestly, after that climax, I don’t think her legs have any power left in them to carry her out of my bed.My own body is limp against hers—lazy and wholly fulfilled.
“You could charge for that kind of service,” Nic says.“You’re uniquely talented and full of surprises.”She shakes her head.“I really wasn’t expecting that.”
The toy lies discarded on the bed next to us.I can’t help but laugh, because, yes, I did surprise her—oh, that look on her face—but I’ve experienced nothing like this with anyone else.
I look at her and brush a strand of damp hair from her forehead, pretending to be casual when really I’m terrified by how much I don’t want her to leave.
Her heavy-lidded eyes meet mine, and it feels like she’s seeing all the way through me.I want to crack another joke, keep it light, but the words stick in my throat because this is no longer just playful banter.The air between us is thick with satisfied lust, but also with the impossible question of where we go from here.
But Nic came here for me.When she texted me earlier, I dropped my phone out of my trembling hands because of the shock.Once again, I believed I’d never see her again.That’s twice now.I’m no therapist, but it very much looks like a pattern is emerging.
“I know we need to talk.”Nic’s fingers caress my back.“But how about we kiss instead?”
I’m in my bed so this might well be a dream, yet it’s real.That toy is real.Nic’s warm body beneath me is real.Her asking me to kiss her again is also very real.
So I kiss her like there’s no tomorrow because, once again, there might very well not be one.Although I’m no longer convinced that’s the case.We kiss to slow time, to postpone the inevitable.I kiss and kiss her and pretend this is actually allowed.That Nic is allowed to date me and sleep in my bed every night and wake up next to me and—the fantasy cuts off my breath.Because I don’t know what this is.I suck at relationships and while I can hardly call this a relationship—nor do I want to call it an affair because that makes it sound so cheap—it is something.And I might very well suck at it all the same.
I withdraw from the kiss and Nic stares up at me, her eyes a little moist but her gaze full of warmth and openness.
“You’re like crack to me,” she whispers, her hand roaming through my hair.“It’s like I need you now.”
“I’m cheap, and there’s an endless supply of me.”
Nic shakes her head.“You and your wisecracks.”
“More crack.Why not?”
“Argh,” she groans.“I just don’t know anymore, Avery.”
But there isn’t an endless supply of wisecracks.In my session with Jan, she laid out in great detail why this can’t be happening.While I disagree with every single reason she stated, the facts remain the same.This is the end of Nic’s career.
“I can’t believe you texted me,” I say, because even though we could kiss forever, we do also need to talk.
“Neither can I,” Nic says.“The urge to see you was obviously stronger than everything else.”
“What happens now?”
“I may be fifty-four but I think I have another round left in me.”She grins up at me.
Before I can tease her for being greedy, she’s already pushing me down.Her grin lingers before she trails slow kisses down my throat, over my chest, pausing to take a nipple between her lips.She teases me with her hands, stroking the inside of my thighs but never quite where I’m most desperate for her.By the time she settles between my legs, I’m trembling with impatience, every nerve tuned to the promise of her mouth.Maybe I really am like crack to her.It sure feels that way.
She breathes me in first, her lips ghosting over my skin, her tongue flicking just close enough to make me moan in frustration.Her fingers spread me open and the cool air hits me, making me shiver before the heat of her mouth finally follows.The first slow lick undoes me completely, a long, deliberate stroke that has my hips rising off the bed in helpless welcome.
The aftershock of that staggering climax earlier is still pulsing through me, and yet her tongue makes me feel like I’m starting all over again.Every stroke is different—softer, wetter, more intimate—and it pushes me toward a high I didn’t think my body was capable of.I grasp at the sheets, completely powerless and desperate for more of her.
Often, I’m too self-conscious to fully enjoy this.I’m too quick to turn the focus back on my partner, because it’s safer—and easier.But with Nic, all I want is to give in, to open wider, to let her have me in a way I usually don’t allow.It feels like she’s rewriting me with every lick, stripping away all my resistance until there’s nothing left but want.
The orgasm tears through me suddenly and unstoppably, my cry raw in the room as I explode against her mouth.My body bucks uncontrollably, every nerve blazing, and still she licks me through it, coaxing every last tremor out of me.When I finally collapse back into the pillows, I feel spent in a way that leaves me trembling for reasons far beyond sex.
Nic gathers me in her arms and gives me the time I need to recover.
“You make me excellent at receiving,” I whisper, taken aback by the croak in my voice.
“Is that your way of saying I bring out the best in you?”If that’s meant to be a joke, it can’t be deduced from the tone of Nic’s voice.
“You make me forget to hold back,” I confess.Again, I’m taken aback by my blatant honesty.“You’re officially the best therapist I should never have slept with.”My joke in bad taste instantly undoes the vibe between us.And I immediately regret it.
“Wow.”Nic’s palm finds the nape of my neck, two fingers digging in with just enough pressure to make me really feel it—or is she trying to tell me something with this gesture?“I guess I deserved that.”
