I tried to last a little longer but felt powerless against the rushing current of desire inside me, which refused to slow down. Faster and harder I pounded into her, encouraged by the wetness of her pussy and the clawing of her nails and the loudness of her cries, telling me to come, come, come…
The orgasm spread throughout my body, every limb vibrating with pleasure as I went stiff and my cock throbbed. Afterward, my arms and legs weakened, and for a second I worried Jaime and I might both hit the floor.
Summoning my strength, I hitched her up a little higher before moving back to the bed and carefully setting her on her back. Expecting her to let go, I was surprised when she clung to me, arms around my neck, legs around my waist.
Braced on my hands, I looked down at her. “What are you doing?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “I just…don’t want to let go yet.”
“Then don’t.” I kissed her forehead. “Then don’t.”
Eighteen
JAIME
Three days later, I met Claire and Margot for cocktails and oysters at Rockefeller’s for our weekly GNO. We were sitting at the bar, listening to the live piano music and waiting for our drinks, when Claire pounded her fist like a gavel.
“OK, that’s all the time I’m giving you. Tell us what’s going on with you and Quinn.”
“Well, we’re…talking.” I tucked my hair behind my ears.
“Just talking?” From the other side of Claire, Margot eyed me suspiciously.
“OK, talking and fucking,” I conceded. “But talking is a big step for me.”
Claire laughed and clapped her hands. “It is. We’re very proud of you for talking.”
“What are you talking about?” Margot asked as our martinis arrived—gin for Margot, Cosmo for Claire, vodka for me (dirty, of course).
“Different things.” I sipped my drink. “We actually talk quite a bit about his mom. He misses her a lot. I think he likes talking about her with someone who knew her from before she got sick.”
“That’s sweet,” said Margot.
“It is. He’s actually much sweeter than I thought.” I tried to say this casually, but I didn’t miss the look my friends exchanged. “What?” I said in self-defense.
“Nothing, don’t get your panties in a twist.” Claire patted my shoulder. “We were saying as much to each other yesterday, that we think he’s funny and sweet and would be really good for you if you’d give him a chance.”
“Too bad he’s so unattractive,” Margot quipped.
“I know, right?” I shook my head. “I keep thinking about that. He could have anyone. What’s wrong with him that he wants me?”
“Oh, shut the fuck up,” said Claire, who rarely cursed. “You’re hot, he’s hot. There’s chemistry. That’s that.”
I sipped my martini and listened to the pianist play “Let It Be,” which we’d heard Sunday night as we made the pierogies. Quinn had sung along to it. “You know what? He’d like this place. I should bring him here sometime.”
“You should,” Margot said. “We could have dinner at the restaurant. Tripp and I, you and Quinn, Claire and—”
“Don’t.” Claire put up a hand. “No more set-ups. I will meet someone somewhere on my own; I can’t handle the disappointment anymore. You guys go. I’ll stay home with my Kindle and my cat. They never disappoint.”
I tipped my head onto Claire’s shoulder for a second, feeling sort of guilty that Quinn had landed in my lap after all this time. I hadn’t even been looking to date someone—in fact, I’d been looking to avoid it. It didn’t seem fair.
“So the talking is going well, then,” Margot encouraged, her tone telling me she wanted more.
“Yes. I mean, it’s only been three days, but…” I inhaled and exhaled. “I am cautiously optimistic I can handle what he wants from me at this point.”
“Which is what?”
“He hasn’t said, exactly, but I think it’s just sex and conversation at the end of the day. He doesn’t call or text me—actually, he hasn’t even asked for my number, which is perfectly fine with me—and honestly, it’s been me knocking on his door the last three nights.” This last fact was a tad worrisome when I let myself think about it too much, but I told myself it was OK because A) sex with Quinn was really good, so who wouldn’t knock on his door, and B) he was leaving for New York tomorrow for six days. We’d have a break then.
“I’m happy for you,” Claire said, lifting her Cosmo to her lips. “Sex and conversation sounds great.”
It was pretty great. So great I knocked on his door for the fourth night in a row when I got home from GNO, even though it was almost eleven.
He answered it wearing black athletic pants and no shirt. The bare chest and warm smile he gave me made my insides flutter, which was a feeling I was learning to appreciate.
“Hey,” he said, his voice a little scratchy. “I thought it was girls’ night.”
Suddenly I noticed his apartment was dark behind him and realized he’d probably been in bed already, which got me all flustered. “It was, and I swear I was just going to go upstairs and go to bed because it’s so late, but then I was thinking about you because I heard this song tonight that reminded me of you, and I thought about how I’d like to go to this place with you sometime because they play this old-school music, but I really shouldn’t have knocked because it’s so late and I know you have an early flight tomorrow, so I should let you go back to sleep, really sorry to wake you and—”