turn on my side, propping myself up on my elbow so I can look at her properly.
She tilts her head towards me, the corners of her lips curving upwards into an inviting smile which makes me want to take her all over again. “You might just have erased the ghost of my ex completely.”
I reach out and run my finger along her lips. “Do you still miss him?”
“Sometimes.” She throws an arm across her chest, as if she’s trying to cover herself up.
“I’ve seen all of you,” I say, peeling her arm away. I still want to look at her naked body, now that she’s lying next to me, instead of dreaming about it. “You. Are. Beautiful,” I murmur, bending down to drop a kiss on her shoulder.
She doesn’t say anything to that, and the silence stretches out endlessly. I hope she doesn’t regret what happened. “You’re cold,” I say, watching her nipples rise, without me having touched her yet. I nod, directing her to see what I see.
“Maybe it’s not the cold.” A hint of mischief makes her eyes light up. In answer, I shimmy a few inches closer and kiss her on the lips. It soon becomes one of those fevered, urgent kisses, and our bodies seem to have recovered and recharged enough to want to try again.
When I stroke her arms, I notice goosebumps. “How about we get under the covers?” I suggest. I’m not sure if she expects me to leave. I’m hoping she won’t discard me, now that she’s made use of me. I don’t want to leave even though it’s what I would normally do.
A writer’s life is lonely. Mari distracts me, but she also gives me something more. Hope and meaning, maybe. Our roles have reversed. She has needs, and I took care of them. She’s a lusty, sexual woman, not a shy wallflower and I like that she takes control.
She jumps up, pulls away the covers and slides in between the sheets. “Getting in?” she asks but she doesn’t need to wait for my answer. I dive in and as soon as our bodies touch, we’re kissing and stroking one another again.
Her cell phone rings again, and this time I reach for it as its nearest to me.
“Your friend again,” I say, seeing Jamie’s number.
“Danny?”
Danny? I was worried about Jamie. Who the hell is Danny?
I hand her the phone, while rolling on top of her and planting myself in between her legs. Resting on my elbows, I watch her as she takes the call, and then I suck her breast again. Her conversation is laboured, and she’s doing her best to sound normal but when I dip two fingers inside her and thumb her clit, her voice turns shaky. She struggles to maintain a normal voice and a normal conversation in a situation which is not so normal. Her back arches, her voice goes up an octave and she squeezes her legs together.
It sounds as if Jamie’s asking her about last night. Sounds as if she left without telling him. Sounds as if he wants to meet up with her again today.
I shove another finger inside her. She begins to cry out, then shoves a hand in front of her mouth, to stifle her cry.
“Sorry,” she wails into the phone. She’s trying not to shudder as I make her come. “I..uh...uh... I dropped a ... carton of milk. I need to clean it up.” Hurriedly, she tells Jamie she’s going to call him later.
I slide my fingers out, but my thumb is attached to her clit and she’s having trouble stringing a sentence together.
“Who’s Danny?” I ask, shifting myself on top of her and sliding inside her a few inches.
She makes a happy noise. “I love your cock.”
“I love your … womanly parts,” I say. What do I call it, so that it won’t offend her?
She hitches her hips as if she’s trying to sheath me. I pull away, but its murder for me to stay here when all I want to do is slam inside her.
“Danny?” I ask again.
“Why do you care?”
“I want to make sure I’m not treading on any toes.”
Her eyes cloud over. “I’m not a cheater.”
“I didn’t peg you for one,” I slide inside her, watch her head press back into the pillow. Her face flushes as I slowly fill her up and she stares back at me as if I’m the only man on the planet.
“Then why would you say that?” she asks, her voice breathless.
“Someone like