Page 102 of When the Smoke Clears

She gathers her hair and pulls it over one shoulder, opening her eyes while riding me slowly. Her lips curl into a flirty grin. She brings my hand to her mouth and sucks my fingers.

I’m going to come really fucking soon. There’s no way around it, especially with her sucking my fingers. She guides said fingers to her clit.

“Get there,” I warn.

“Just wait, old man,” she whispers, leaning forward to brush her lips over mine while grinning.

“Shut up.” I lift my head to kiss her hard while my hips piston off the bed, and I think we’re shaking the whole damn trailer.

I hug her to me, gripping her ass and rolling us over one last time so I can thrust into her as deep as possible. Her breaths come faster and faster until she stills, not breathing at all for a few seconds while her body shudders, mouth open, eyes screwed.

“Fuuuck . . .” I pant. “Fuck you,” I whisper after my release, “for having this effect on me.”

She grunts a laugh, body limp beneath mine.

I’m not trying to break her heart or torture myself. Those are just unfortunate side effects of our chemistry. I’m leaving, and she’s staying. That’s just life. Am I supposed to regret this? After months of anguish over my father’s illness and my mother’s emotional decline, is it fair to feel guilty for taking a few minutes for myself? A brief escape?

“Don’t.” She wraps her legs around my waist again, ankles crossed at my back. “I know what’s true.” She presses her palms to my face, thumbs caressing my lips. “So just don’t move yet. Lie to me with your lips on mine and our bodies entwined. Just . . .” She closes her eyes. “Lie to me for a little longer.”

I playfully nip at her thumb, then I kiss her like she kissed me. We roll to our sides without untangling our bodies. I caress her neck and breasts. Her hips and ass. And after several minutes, I’m ready to do it again. Not too shabby for an old guy.

Chapter Thirty-Three

“And there it is,” I say as she stands, flashing me her naked backside.

She smirks over her shoulder. “Meet Wilbur.”

Her pig tattoo is located just below the dimple on the right side of her lower back. How did I miss it the day she dropped her towel before getting into the shower?

“Why there?”

“In case it was a regrettable decision, I wanted it someplace that I wouldn’t see it every day.”

No one is like this woman, and that makes me deliriously happy. But I’m not ready for her to know my true feelings because my life is messy enough.

“Listen, I don’t regret this, but—” I stop short, not wanting to sound cliché.

She peers up at me while we dress on opposite sides of the bed. “But you don’t want to tell your friends we had sex two and a half times.”

I zip my jeans, eyes narrowed. “Two and a half?”

“I had three orgasms; you had two.”

I shake my head with a restrained grin. “Whatever. Even if we were actively dating, which we are not, I wouldn’t tell them we had sex this morning. It’s none of their business.”

“I agree. Also, I’m well trained at keeping secrets.” She pulls on her wool socks.

“Are you, though?” I mirror her, tugging on my socks.

“What do you mean by that?”

“I mean years ago, when Jamie came to Missoula and started working at your office, it took all of two seconds before you blabbered about my taking your virginity.”

“Was that a secret? You didn’t stay long enough to mention that. You seem to tell Fitz a lot. He knew about Karen. Am I better than she was? Will you remember my name?”

I step into the galley. “Depends. Is my dick overrated?”

“That’s a good question. The last time I rated it, it was in a younger category. Now it’s in the over-forty group, where the ratings and competition aren’t as stiff.”