He was panting now as well, sucking on my earlobe and saying, “I'm going to come.”
“Oh, yes, baby,” I said.
His c**k was stiff, moving easily through my wet pu**y, so eager for him.
“Damn.”
I sucked on his neck and dug the fingertips of one hand into his firm bu**ocks as he drove into me rhythmically, lifting me up and setting me down. My shoes, tap-tapping the concrete steps.
With my finger on my clit, I felt myself starting to come. I relaxed into it, letting the sensation wash up and over me.
Tap tap.
He picked me up easily, and I wrapped my legs around him. He turned to the side and pressed my back against the concrete wall.
With my legs around him, he pumped into me. Through my fluttering eyelids, I saw this beautiful man, his brow furrowed with concentration. His expression changed, the lines sliding away.
His c**k was so hot, and he lost his rhythm as he let go, pulsing into me as he came.
I cried out for him to not stop, and he kept going as I also came. This orgasm was low and deep, like a bass line, and it went on forever.
When we both stopped shuddering, he pulled me away from the wall. I dropped down one leg and then the other, my feet landing on the step above his.
Trevor pulled away from me, bent over, and a second later stood up again, his semi-firm c**k tucked and zipped away in his pants already.
He raised up both arms and said, “Ta da!”
This, as you might expect, gave me the giggles so bad, I had to sit down on the step to compose myself.
Part 2: Meeting the Ex
After our fun in the stairwell, we ran giggling all the way to Trevor's truck.
Trevor started the truck and noted the time on the display. “It's past three! I can't remember the last time I was up past three.”
“I kept you up about that late … the last time I came over to your house.”
“Right.” He reached between us and turned up the music on the truck's stereo.
So, that was it? End of conversation? No discussion of what was happening between us?
I clicked the stereo off. “Why were you drinking that night?”
He countered me with, “Why did you come over?”
“Because I wanted to see you.”
He drove in silence for a moment, then said, “Same.”
“You were drinking because you wanted to see me?”
“Pretty much.”
“I don't get it. Were you drinking because you were, like, sad? Or because you wanted to get up the nerve to call me?”
We slowed down to let some very drunk pumpkins cross the street in front of us.
Trevor said, “Your house or mine?”
I wanted to continue the conversation, and the drive out to his robot-house in the suburbs was much longer than the drive to mine. “Your house,” I said. “Provided you don't try to rush me out in the morning again.”
“Not before coffee,” he said, grinning. “Apparently that's inhumane. Don't worry, I've been scolded and I learned my lesson.”
I could tell he was teasing, but I still didn't like the implication I'd scolded him. That sounded like something a wife would do.
My voice sounded cold and hard as I asked, “Is your wife still staying at your house?”
“My ex?”
“Your wife. The one you're only separated from, but until you're legally divorced, she doesn't get the title of ex-wife. Not unless you're trying to slip one past other people.”
He frowned. Now it was his turn to be unimpressed by implications.
“She's way off in the guest suite, at the back of the house. She won't even hear us come in, let alone mind.”
“Maybe I mind. Maybe you should take me home to my house, after all.”
I could hear him breathing.
He said, “Come home with me. I want to sleep beside you.”
Who could resist such sweetness?
“Okay,” I said.
Traffic was light, as it was so late, and we were already moving rapidly away from downtown.
I sensed Trevor twitching to turn the stereo on, so I quickly asked, “How did you guys meet? How were you married?”
“The first part is a funny story. As for how long ago, a year and a half.”
“You weren't married long.”
“I know,” he said. “Now, as for how we met. Let's see. Roxie was working as an office manager, at the office of a place that does commercial lending. I'd come in there all the time for meetings, and she always had a bright smile for me ...”
I frowned in the dark. As Trevor kept talking, telling me about the ridiculously high heels she wore, and how she snapped a heel while she was walking him to the board room for a meeting, I thought about taking off my crotchless panties and shoving them in his mouth to shut him up.
Seriously? He was going to tell me a long anecdote about their meet-cute?
For a guy who claimed he didn't like to talk, he sure didn't mind spinning the tale of his first date with his wife.
I wanted to pop open my door and roll out onto the highway, just so I didn't have to hear another word.
Instead of stopping him, I sang Rocky songs in my head and waited for it to stop. According to the very detailed story, he ordered for her at the restaurant, but she was allergic to seafood. And then there was something else about her car not starting. And how her parents weren't that keen on him at first, but now they're the greatest of friends, and he has plans to go skiing with her brother. And on and on.
Just as I was about to go for it and pop open the door as we rounded a corner, he finished up by saying, “And that's the whole story.”
As much as I'd tried to block out some of the details, unfortunately for me, I'm a very good listener, and I had a sharp, high-definition image in my head of Roxie and Trevor's early dates. I kept seeing his eyes on her, his hands running up and down her body, catching her as her heel broke, carrying her over the threshold on their wedding night.
By the time we drove into the crescent-shaped driveway in front of his house, the automated landscaping lights flicking on to welcome us, I felt like throwing up.
Trevor came around my side to open the door, and said, “Whatcha thinkin' there, Naomi?”
I stepped out, a little shaky on my feet. “I'm thinking about … that amazing Jacuzzi tub you have.”
He yawned and opened the house door. “I'm going to hit the hay, but you have a bath to your heart's content.”
We both slipped off our shoes and he tossed his keys on the little table. We walked up the wide, curving staircase to the upper floor, where the master bedroom was.
It was only my third time at his house, and as I filled the tub with water while we both got ready to sleep, I was surprised by how comfortable I felt there. However, just as I got relaxed in the tub, I remembered the other woman who was also under the same roof. I hadn't toured the whole house, wasn't even sure where this guest suite was, but as soon as I imagined her, I tensed up and my pulse raced.