Home > Some Sort of Love (Happy Crazy Love #3)(12)

Some Sort of Love (Happy Crazy Love #3)(12)
Author: Melanie Harlow

I take you all the way in, so deep I can barely breathe.

I move my hips over yours, slowly at first.

I lean over you, kiss you, taste myself on your lips.

You put your hands on my ass, force me to move faster, ride you harder.

jesus fuck

I smiled even wider. This was like directing my own porn movie. I only wished I could see him, his white shirt and black pants undone, his hand on his dick, his eyes dark with lust. God, I could come again just thinking about that.

But I was on a mission.

Now for the big finish.

I can feel you getting even harder and bigger, you’re hitting that perfect spot inside me, the one that makes my entire body clench up, my heart pound. I’m screaming your name as I come on your cock, and I bounce up and down even faster and harder, and it’s so tight and wet and hot and you dig your fingers into my ass and tell me you’re going to come. And then I feel you do it deep inside me and I don’t stop moving until I’ve taken every last drop and feel your body go still.

OK, that had to do it, right?

I waited for him to text me back. It took a minute, and then the messages came in slowly.

Um

Fuck

That was

So hot

I laughed softly. It was.

Be right back

OK

I assumed he went to clean up a little, and I was thirsty, so I pulled on my t-shirt and took a minute to wash my hands and grab a water from the fridge. A few seconds after I got back into bed, he messaged me.

Hey.

Hey.

That was amazing.

Agreed.

I’m surprised I didn’t wake up my kid.

I giggled. Were you that loud?

I don’t know. Maybe. You were very vivid in your description.

It was very vivid in my head. I confess… I may have thought about it before.

You mentioned that.

It’s the truth. I hesitated. Did you ever think about me?

You know I did.

I don’t. Tell me.

I thought about fucking you. A lot.

Where?

Um, wherever I happened to be jerking off.

Hahaha that’s not what I meant. I meant when you pictured it, where were we?

I have no idea. I don’t think I pictured anything but bodies.

I sighed. You’re such a guy. But I’ll take it. I like that you thought about fucking me.

But now I want the real thing. Not in a closet. Not on the phone.

My breath caught. Me too.

Maybe we should go on a date first.

Haha maybe. Although we have already banged in a closet and sexted. The jig is up.

Right. But I would still like to take you out.

My whole body tingled, and I wiggled my toes. OK.

I’ll call you this week.

Sounds good. Night.

Night.

I set the phone on the nightstand and pulled the covers up to my chin, unable to keep the smile off my face. All the worry in my head, and all the tension in my body, had been replaced by something else.

Exhilaration. Anticipation. Hope.

This felt like the beginning of something.

Setting my phone aside, I lay back on my bed and put my hands behind my head, my legs crossed at the ankles. Probably I should take off my pants and hang them up, put my shirt in the laundry basket, check on Scotty…but for a moment, I just wanted to lie there and think about her. Not about today’s minor meltdowns over the yellow spoon or the seam in his socks, or the major ones about the hair-washing and stained pajamas. Not about the conversation with my mother in which she told me I wasn’t severe enough in disciplining my son when he acted out. Not about the arguments with my sister in which she told me I can’t keep letting Scotty make the rules. Not about the email I got yesterday from the school saying they still don’t have his new IEP ready despite the testing results being sent to them weeks ago.

For a moment, I blocked all that out. I wasn’t anyone’s son or brother or father or advocate. I was just a man thinking about a woman.

But just for a moment.

• • •

A noise woke me, and I sat up quickly. Waited in the silent dark. Had I actually heard something? Or was the dull thud part of a dream? My mind was cloudy and my head hurt a little, probably from such an abrupt waking. I waited, scratching my beard and stifling a yawn. Then I heard it again. It was coming from downstairs, most likely Scotty trying to get a snack in the kitchen. He did that sometimes in the middle of the night. I picked up my phone to check the time—just after four. I bet Jillian is sound asleep. For a moment, I pictured her in bed, her skin warm and soft under the blankets, and imagined what it would be like to roll over at four in the morning and throw an arm around her slim waist. Pull her closer. Breathe in the scent of her hair.

Get hard against her ass.

Thump.

Sighing, I stood up and headed down the hall, where a nightlight kept the stairs well lit. They creaked as I went down, and the house felt a little chilly, the wood floors cool under my bare feet. We’d had a warm September, but soon I’d have to turn the heat on at night.

I went to the kitchen, where all the lights were on and Scotty was opening and closing cupboards. I figured he was looking for his cereal bowl, since the box of Fruity Pebbles was already out on the counter.

“Hey, buddy,” I said.

“Do you want some cereal?” He meant that he wanted cereal. Pronouns still gave him trouble, and although his language and communication skills had improved a ton with therapy, he often repeated questions he’d heard asked before. Almost like he had scripts he recalled in certain situations when he couldn’t find the right words to ask the question or make the statement he wanted.

   
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