No Regrets (9 page)

He opened his eyes to look at me, and there was sympathy in his face that made tears burn in my eyes. The emotion faded fairly quickly, though. It had been a long time since I’d broken down at the thought of Polly.

“Dogs were the first animals domesticated. The first animals who learned to live with humans. Did you know that?” His tone was more natural now, as if he were trying to move past the moment before.

“I had heard that before. I don’t think it’s surprising.”

“Even feral dogs depend on humans—scavenging on the edges of our society. A cat can turn feral pretty quickly. They’re always close to wild. They’ll soon start to hunt for their own food and adapt to life without humans. They don’t really need us. You can release goats and cattle and pigs into the wild, and they’ll all be able to survive outside of human civilization. Dogs will always need us, though. They can’t let us go.”

“Yeah. It’s like we’re made to be companions.” I smiled at him, slightly bittersweet, and he returned the smile. “So what happened to that poor dog today? Is it all right?”

“I don’t know. We did what we could. It’s still in the office. I don’t know…”

“What kind of dog is it?”

“A Husky. She’s not even very old. Just barely past being a puppy. I think…” He cleared his throat, looking up at the ceiling once more. “I think someone used a bat on the poor thing.”

“Oh, my God.” I raised my hand to my chest. “I can’t understand why…how…”

I couldn’t finish the question, but I didn’t need to. Josh shook his head, his eyes closing again. “I’m no longer surprised at what people are capable of. When I worked in the refugee camp, I’d see things…hear stories…what was done to these people. What humans are willing to do to other human beings. When I first started field work, I saw…”

My throat was tightening again, but for a different reason now. He’d never talked about his humanitarian work in Africa before. He’d never even brought it up, aside from the brief comment on what he used to do on the first day we met. “What did you see?”

He shook his head.

“You never talk about your time there,” I murmured, intentionally keeping my voice light.

He opened his eyes to look at me again. “I can’t talk about it. I just can’t.”

“Okay.”

There wasn’t anything I could say to that. Certainly, a relationship entirely about sex didn’t allow for prying into his past, his emotions, his brokenness. “I guess you had to kind of distance yourself from the things you were seeing, or it would just eat you alive.”

“Yeah. That’s what I should have done. But I didn’t do a very good job.”

I thought about that. Understood why he’d have such trouble with it. He was really very sensitive, very empathetic, very easily touched by the hurt and need around him. He’d put up walls now, but they were mostly to protect his tender heart.

Finally, he said, “Do you know what’s been happening in Sudan over the last decade or so?”

I nodded my affirmation. I’d basically only known what was covered by the news, but I’d looked it up in the last few weeks, curious about his time in Africa.

“I normally wasn’t in the really dangerous areas—I mostly worked in refugee camps—but not long after I started field work, I ended up in a village after it had been massacred. I was really young, and I thought I could handle the emotional toll, but it eats at you…you know? As the years went on, it kept eating at me. What I’d seen that day, plus what I was seeing every day after.”

“I’d think it would have to.”

“I had a breakdown,” he said, after a minute of silence.

“What?”

“I told you I didn’t do a good job of distancing. It was all just too much. There was a group of boys that came into the camp—a lot of refugees from Sudan ended up in Chad—and for some reason they were the last straw. The things that had happened to them, to their village, to their families. Torture and rape and murder. All in the name of…” He took a strange, ragged breath and let it out slowly. “I had a mental breakdown. I couldn’t get out of bed. They had to send me home.”

My mind was whirling with this information, the pieces of his nature, his history, his choices, coming together with a clarity I’d been missing until now. And I knew now why he was so committed to no-strings-attached. In everything. It was a protective mechanism, to keep him from falling apart like that again.

“So that’s why you went to vet school?”

“Yeah. I had to do something. All my education and training was in international aid work. I could have done an office job in the headquarters of an NGO—and not do field work—but I couldn’t seem to manage even that. My mom was the one who told me I should be a vet. She said I’d always wanted to be one as a boy. and it wasn’t too late. I don’t remember wanting that, but it’s a decent life.”

“Yeah. I think you’re a pretty good vet.”

“Thanks.” He gave me a half-smile, and then his expression changed, twisted slightly. “I’m not sure why I just dumped all that on you.”

“It’s fine. I’d wondered why you’d made such a career change.”

“Anyway, enough about me. Did you want to go to sleep, or did you feel like doing something else tonight.” He gave me a familiar, hot look so I’d know what he was talking about.

The shift was so abrupt that it took me a minute to catch up. It was hard to make a complete turnaround from what felt like emotional intimacy to casual sex. “Either way is fine with me. If you’re tired…”

“How many times do I have to tell you that I’m not too tired for sex?” He rolled on his side and reached over to caress my cheekbone with his knuckles. “So what’s on your wish list for tonight?”

I couldn’t begin to sort through what kind of sexual scenarios I wanted to indulge in tonight. My mind was still on the previous conversation and what I’d learned about Josh. I could hardly tell him I’d rather talk to him than fuck him, though. We weren’t in this thing together to talk. “I don’t know. What are you thinking?”

“To tell you the truth, I’m thinking about that night we ran into each other at the bar.”

I thought back to that night, our second night together. “What about it?”

“What do you remember about it?” His voice had gotten low, hoarse, erotic.

I remembered a lot of things. A lot of very sexy things.

“You didn’t obey very well, so you had to come wait for me in here.”

My body started to react to the memory, to the texture in his voice, which was almost a caress in and of itself. “I remember.”

“And then I came in here and found you stretched out on my bed naked, waiting for me. You were so turned on you could hardly lie still.”

“I know.” I shifted slightly, feeling a familiar pulsing between my legs.

“And then you had to learn to come when I said so. But you were so eager you could barely stop yourself.” He hadn’t even touched me, but my breathing accelerated.

“Yeah. I remember.”

“I know you remember.” His hot eyes raked over my body, making me feel naked even in my clothes. “I made you come harder than you’d ever come before. Didn’t I?”

“Oh, yeah, you did.”

“You’re blushing,” he murmured, giving me a knowing look. “Like a little girl caught doing something naughty.”

If possible, I blushed even hotter.

“You’re embarrassed.” Josh leaned toward me at last, his hand barely skimming my breasts over my shirt. “But you’re also getting turned on, just thinking about that night.”

I was. Turned on. Just the memory of that wild passion—completely new to me then—aroused me.

“Aren’t you?” he demanded.

I wanted to melt from the feelings coursing through me. “Maybe a little.”

He sat up, giving me a familiar look of heated dominance. “Take off your clothes for me.”

I was breathing raggedly, but I did as he said, the arousal making it hard for me to process clear thoughts. All that mattered was the way my body was throbbing, the way Josh was staring at me.

When I was naked, he moved down the bed some and then put one hand on my thigh. “Show me.”

“Josh—“

“Show me,” he said again, his voice even sexier than his gaze.

I put slightly trembling hands on my thighs and parted them for him, my pussy almost aching at the greedy, possessive look in his eyes as he watched.

“Show me.” His eyes never wavered from between my legs.

With a hard swallow, I used my fingers to part my intimate folds and show him my wet pussy and swollen clit.

I was glad to see that he was aroused too. I could see it in the tension of his face and shoulders and in the slight flush on his cheeks. And in the bulge at the front of his pajama pants.

He leaned forward and blew gently on my aroused flesh.

My whole body shuddered, and I couldn’t hold back a whimper in response.

“Very good,” he said thickly. “You want it again like that night, don’t you?”

There was no sense in denying it. The evidence was there for him to see, as I exposed myself so intimately for him. “Yeah. Please.”

“Hold your ankles, baby.” Josh straightened up.

I did as he said, leaning back on the bed and folding my knees toward my chest—gripping my ankles to hold my legs as far apart as he wanted.

First, he pleasured me with his fingers and mouth, until I was just on the verge of coming and begging him for release. He wouldn’t let me, though.

Then he put on a condom, braced himself over me, and slid his cock inside me.

He fucked me hard, pushing against my folded body in a series of forceful, rapid thrusts. He shook the bed until the headboard slammed against the wall. He jiggled my body until my breasts were bouncing against my chest, and I could barely keep a grip on my ankles.

The motion of his cock felt raw against my already sensitive pussy, and my position was awkward and uncomfortable. But I was close to coming again almost immediately—so overwhelmed with the heat and brute force of him.

“Are you going to come when I tell you?” he grunted, when I was practically sobbing with my need for release.

“Oh, God. Oh, yes.”

“Then come. Come now.”

I let out a loud cry with my first orgasm. Then he let me release my ankles, keeping my legs trapped in place, folded against my chest, with his shoulders. Then he told me to rub my clit. I had to squeeze my hand into place, but I obeyed until I was close to another orgasm.

When he told me to come, I came—and then came again. Until he finally came too in a series of jerks and grunts.

I was leveled when he finally collapsed on top of me, and I couldn’t help but clutch at him hungrily. He was breathless and limp, but he rolled off me pretty quickly. Much quicker than I wanted.

We took several minutes to catch our breath and recover, and by then I was starting to feel discontent. Heavy.

It took me a minute to realize why.

He’d used sex as a distraction—as a way to move beyond the emotional vulnerability of our previous conversation. He was committed to keeping things casual, and this was the way he’d brought us back.

I had nothing to whine about. He’d given me three incredible orgasms, and I’d known what this was from the very beginning.

I still felt kind of achy, though, and so tired I thought I would drop. So I decided to just head home.

He didn’t object.

In the car afterwards, I cried a little. I think it was mostly from the aftermath of the emotion and sex, more than anything else.

If I couldn’t do this casually, then I couldn’t do it at all. I’d have to really think about it. Be honest with myself.

Because one thing was absolutely clear.

Josh wasn’t going to change his mind about what we were and what we could be.

I did pretty well for the next few weeks with my resolution to keep things non-intimate.

Whenever I felt that pull of affection or the desire for emotional closeness, I turned the moment into sex. It seemed to work for Josh, and it worked for me too.

At least, it usually did.

We did a lot of power-playing, since that worked best to remind me that there wasn’t anything deeper between us. If he was ordering me around, then I felt less like myself, so I could focus only on the sexual pleasure and not on what else was missing.

The week before, we’d had dinner in front of the television, and he was telling me funny stories of people who’d brought very spoiled pets into the office for treatment. The evening had felt so domestic—like we were in a real relationship—that I’d had to ask him to tie me up afterwards to get my head on straight again.

He’d made me come over and over again, bound spread-eagle on his bed, and I’d been screaming myself hoarse at the end of it. I’d felt kind of heavy afterwards and hadn’t spent the night, but at least I’d stopped myself from having soft, fond feelings about him.

Tonight, I’d had to work late. I’d had a bad day—with a lot of stress from complications with a project at work, one that I was getting unfairly blamed for—and I’d actually been planning to cancel and just go home and get to bed early.

What I really felt like was eating dinner on the couch and talking the day out with Josh. Maybe cuddling a little and getting some comfort.

Those desires were very dangerous, though—far more dangerous than any sexual adventurousness I’d indulged in with him over the last two months. Canceling was far wiser.

I’d called him up to tell him, but he didn’t pick up, so I left him a message, telling him I was heading home and asking him to call me back.

I was already home, showered, and in my pajamas when he called me back. He’d had some sort of emergency procedure at the vet and was just getting off work. Since he was obviously as tired as I was, I was about to say we’d just call off our plans, but he said he could pick up takeout and bring it over to my place, if I wanted.

So I found myself saying “Sure,” instead of the cancellation I’d intended.

He’d never been over to my place before, so I was feeling odd and nervous as I waited for him to arrive. I usually kept my apartment fairly neat, so there wasn’t any cleaning up I needed to do, even for an unexpected visitor. I started to change out of my pajamas, but then decided against it. Putting my clothes back on would feel uncomfortable, and these pajamas were a soft knit pants and tank-top set in a dark blue, and so they weren’t all that different than a t-shirt and leggings would be.

He brought in dinner from a Greek restaurant nearby, and we ate it at my kitchen counter. He told me about a dog who had come in, hit by a car—the one who had kept him late—and I told him about how my boss was blaming me for her mistakes.

We fell into silence as we finished. I felt better. Comforted. Like I’d been heard. Like I wasn’t alone.

“You look tired,” he said, after a minute of searching my face. “I can leave, if you want. Or we can just go to bed.”

I really wanted to go to bed. With him.

The smartest thing was probably to ask him to leave, but I didn’t want him to go. He was sitting next to me, looking rumpled, and masculine, and like he needed to shave.

Making sure I pushed that thought from my mind, I gave him a teasing look. “I thought going to bed was what you came over for.”

He smiled at me—just a little heat smoldering in his eyes. “You got it. Bed it is.”

It would have been easier if he’d just jumped me and we stumbled into the bedroom and we went at it. But we didn’t. He helped me clean up from our meal, and then he asked if he could take a shower.

Of course, I let him. He’d had a long day. But, instead of wild sex, it felt very cozy and intimate again as I lay in bed and waited for him.

I tried to imagine what it would be like to live with him. To have evenings like this all the time—coming home from work, having dinner, talking, going to bed.

And I could picture it. I could see it so clearly. I wanted it so much that my chest started to ache. From everything I didn’t really have with him.

I suddenly knew—knew so clearly—that I should have asked him to leave. I wasn’t in the emotional state this evening to keep the proper distance from him. But it was too late. It would be incredibly rude to tell him to leave now. And I just didn’t want him to go.

I searched my mind for some kind of sex that would reorient my thinking in the right way. I felt like missionary sex under the covers—nothing too wild or strenuous—but I wasn’t going to make that mistake and complete my emotional delusion about what Josh and I actually had.

I was still trying to think of what I could do to get myself together when he came out of the shower, naked except for a pair of boxers.

He smelled clean as he got under the covers with me and scooted over to spoon me from behind. With one arm around my middle, he held me snugly against him, and my body immediately reacted to his closeness.

“I like your pajamas” he murmured, his breath warm against my ear.

I snuggled back into his embrace, feeling better than I had all day but terrified because of it. “You lucked out. Sometimes I sleep in just an oversized t-shirt.

One of his hands strayed up to my breasts, caressing one of my nipples through the fabric until it peaked under his touch. “Really? That doesn’t sound too bad to me.”

“My favorite t-shirt says ‘Give me chocolate and no one gets hurt.’” I felt a tingling between my legs as I stretched against him.

He chuckled and rubbed his cheek against my neck, making me moan at the delicious friction. He was hardening against my ass and gently rocking his pelvis against me. I added, “It’s so big on me it comes down to my knees.”

He hummed low in his throat. “Sounds very sexy. Next time, you should wear that.”

Reaching up behind me, I wrapped one of my arms around his neck. “I’ll think about it.”

He raised himself up slightly and turned my head to the side so he could reach my lips. We kissed for a few minutes as he stroked my body, until both of us were warm and aroused.

I was feeling soft and affectionate. I was feeling like we were really together.

I was suddenly terrified of how I was feeling—how it wasn’t at all the way we were supposed to be together—and I realized I had to do something about it.

Now. Immediately. Right away.

And then the answer came to me at the feel of his erection rubbing against my bottom.

“Josh?”

“Hmm.” He was nuzzling my hair and tweaking one of my hard nipples between his fingers.

“There’s something I’ve always wondered about.” My heart started to hammer as I realized what I was about to suggest.

Josh stiffened, and his hand grew still on the curve of my breast. When I didn’t continue, he prompted, “Yes?”

He felt tense, and I wondered if he thought I was going to ask him to share something personal. His response actually helped. Reminded me that I’d only ever get to a certain level of closeness with him.

Clearing my throat, I managed to get the rest of the words out. “Have you ever tried the…the back door…thing?”

He was utterly still for a few seconds. Then his hand began to move again almost idly over my breast. “Why do you ask?”

“Have you?”

“Yes. I’ve had anal sex before.”

I swallowed hard and tried not to imagine him doing that with some other woman. “With your college girlfriend?”

“Yes.”

“Anyone else?”

“Yes.” Josh leaned down so that his mouth was right at my ear. “Leslie? Why do you want to know?”

“Because I’ve never done it. And I wanted to try.”

I actually wasn’t sure I wanted to try, but I had always wondered about it. In none of my previous relationships had it even felt like a possibility, so I’d assumed I’d go through life without ever trying it.

Josh was silent for a long time. He was still erect against me, but the rest of his body felt tense in a different way. Finally, he asked, “Is that really what you want?”

For no good reason, I was immediately defensive. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“I was just asking. Do you really want to do that?”

I turned around in his arms and met his eyes evenly. Told him the truth. “I want this.”

“Tell me why.”

I was a little annoyed that he was pressing me on this, since it seemed outside of the bounds of our relationship. But there was no reason not to answer. “Because I want to do something I didn’t think I could ever do. No regrets, remember?” It took all the nerve I had, but I didn’t look away from his scrutinizing gaze. “I want to do it with you.”

“All right,” he murmured. Then he pulled me into another kiss. After he’d stroked my lips and mouth with his tongue, he eased away just far enough to ask, “Have you done any sort of anal play before?”

I swallowed hard, my cheeks warming a little. But it was stupid to be embarrassed since I was the one who had suggested this. “No. Not really.”

Josh leaned farther back, something reluctant appearing in his eyes. “Leslie, it’s not always easy to manage. And if you haven’t done any sort of—”

Afraid he was going to turn me down now, after giving me hope that we could do this, I interrupted, “I know it will take some doing. But I want to at least try. Please?”

“All right. But, if you don’t like it, you have to tell me.”

“Right.”

“Promise?”

I felt a twinge of a new kind of anxiety—not from what we were about to do but from how he’d evidently sensed my conflicted feelings. Hopefully, he hadn’t sensed my mushiness before. If he thought I was getting too close, hoping for too much, then he would end this thing between us. No question.

“I promise.”

“Okay.” Josh pulled himself up into a sitting position and tightened his lips as he thought. “Do you have vibrators? Those would probably help.”

My stomach churned as I leaned over and opened the nightstand drawer—suddenly hit with the knowledge of what we were about to do. But I kept my expression calm and my voice natural as I replied, “Who doesn’t have vibrators?” I even managed an ironic quirk of my mouth. “For emergency purposes only—of course.”

Josh let out a huff of amusement, but he was obviously focused on preparations. “What do you have?”

Rather sheepishly, I showed him my small collection of vibrators. I didn’t have a large stock of sex toys—just three vibrators of good quality and varying size. Josh put aside the larger dual-action vibrator in favor of the smooth, slim, slightly curved one—the first one I’d bought for myself—and a mini vibe that generated intense vibrations that I used when I wanted some quick clitoral stimulation.

I tried to think of a joke or something—anything to break the mounting tension. Before I could think of one, Josh had gotten off the bed and strode to the bathroom.

He returned with a towel.

I just stared at him.

“Just in case,” he explained, nudging me over so he could spread the towel out on the bed. “Otherwise you might have to change the sheets after—“

“Oh.” I blushed even deeper. “Right.”

“Do you have enough lube?” Josh didn’t look uptight or anxious—the way I myself felt—but he was definitely not taking this lightly. His expression was focused and business-like, and for some reason it both comforted and embarrassed me.

I grabbed the small tube from the nightstand drawer. Before I’d met Josh, I’d used the lube sometimes with a vibrator. “It’s almost full.”

Josh studied it intently. “I guess that should be enough.”

The possibility of that entire container of lubricant not being enough for one sexual encounter made my eyes widen dramatically.

Noticing my response, he said, “I don’t care if you think I’m overdoing the precautions. I’m not taking any chances of you getting hurt.”

Despite my jittery nerves, this sign of the sweetness underlying his sexy demeanor made me want to melt. “Right.”

All the preparations taken care of, Josh crawled in bed beside me again. “Do you feel…clean enough?” he asked, for the first time sounding a little hesitant.

I nodded and felt my cheeks burning. “I think so. But I’m not sure…I mean, I know some women do enemas or whatever before—“

“No.” Josh’s interruption was almost sharp. “It might make it more uncomfortable for you. Any man who’s not willing to accept the natural consequences of this kind of intercourse shouldn’t be going in there to begin with.”

He looked so militant with a kind of righteous indignation that I felt a sudden wave of amusement. I choked on a snort of stifled laughter.

Josh’s concentration broke, and his mouth softened into a responding smile. “Are you sure you want to do this, Leslie?”

Feeling a little more relaxed, I nodded. “I do. But can we turn off the light?”

“Of course.” He switched off the bedside lamp, leaving the room in mostly darkness. I could still see the general shape of him beside me but couldn’t see any details.