Ready and Willing (5 page)

“You’re so thick,” I murmur in his ear.
“And hard.
Show me how you like to fuck.”

His eyes open halfway, trained between our bodies. I lift my skirt up so he can see.

“Ride me,” he says.

I start to move, pulling back and pushing forward, taking him slow and explicitly.

“God, Abby.”

“You feel so good.” To emphasize, I draw back at a sharp angle, milking his thick cock with my hungry body. I want to hear him unravel as he nears his release. I want to feel his hands grab my hips and control me when he reaches that gorgeous point of no return. I want him frantic and nasty and demanding.

“Want to make you come,” he moans. “Tell me what you need.”

I consider the demand. And why shouldn’t I come, if he’s offering? “Just let me fuck you,” I say. “Slide forward a little.”

He shimmies his ass closer to the front of the cushion.

I ride him slow, brushing his pubic bone with my clit. I want to remember all of this: the faint, repetitive scrape of his zipper against my thigh, the smell of his sweat, the look of need on his handsome face. His cock feels so right, so big. I want to use him for more than just his precious cum.

“Touch my breasts,” I beg.

He pushes my shirt up, and I yank it off. I undo my bra, and his hands on my bare breasts are absolute heaven.

“God, you’re hot,” he says.

“And you’re big. I
wanna
come on your cock.”

“Abby.” His fingers tweak my nipples, flashing pleasure between my breasts and my cunt, connecting me, lighting me up. He pulls me close, and his lips draw me in, suckling.

“I’m fucking you, Noah. I’m fucking you.” It’s all I can think to say. My pussy is burning up, tight and frantic and needing not just
a
man, but
this
man. My clit burns white-hot. I ride him fast and rough and groan his name into his hair, insane with the feeling. My consciousness and every atom of my being
is
drawn down to my core, like the eye of a violent, swirling storm. For what feels like forever, I’m floating in the pleasure, suspended… Then intensity returns, wringing my body out. The spasms flood me with heat and relief and beautiful, drunk happiness and keep me tight against his dick.

“Yes
yes
yes…” He’s whispering against my skin as my pussy flutters and calms. I hear us breathing. I hear Jack Nicholson talking in the background. I smell ziti and feel Noah’s soft, short hair between my fingers, feel his cock throbbing inside me. I smooth my hands over his head and lean back to study his face.

“Wow,” I say stupidly.

He smiles broadly and cranes his neck to kiss my lips.

“I haven’t come that hard in forever,” I tell him, feeling dim-witted and grateful.
“Your turn.”

“Okay. Can you keep riding me, like before?
When you’re ready.”

I nod, commanding my jelly legs to get their act together. I pump him, slow at first. His fly is soaked from my orgasm, its wet fabric rubbing the back of my thigh. I feel a little embarrassed, mostly proud. Noah’s lost in his pleasure, looking hypnotized and handsome and just perfect.

“Yeah.
Faster.” His eyes shut tight, and he leans back into the couch.

My knees are raw from grinding into the upholstery but it feels good taking orders from him. His breathing
turns
rapid, a rhythmic string of grunts as he gives himself over.

“I want to make you come,” I say.

“Yeah.
Fuck me, Abby.”

“Your dick is so big. I want to make it shoot for me.” I never found it so easy to talk nasty to a man before this one showed up. Noah makes things comfortable, his mere presence like a sip of liquor that dulls inhibitions and loosens lips.

“Fuck me. Fuck me.” His hands grasp my ass, making the thrusts faster and rougher, taking charge, losing control. “Fuck my cock. Fuck it.”

“Come on, Noah.”

“Your pussy’s so tight.”

“It loves your cock. Give it what it wants, Noah.”

He licks his lips, catches my eye for a split second. “Yeah, you want
my cum
.”

“Yeah, all of it.
Give it to me. Shoot it for me.
Nice and deep.”

“Just fuck me. Fuck me.” He’s a goner. I’m glad he can’t see my smug grin as his possessive hands pull me hard against him. He drives deep with every last inch and releases. He groans like a madman, like a suffering animal. “
Abby.
Abby
.”

“Good…”

He keeps me close as he stills, wraps his arms around my back.

“I have to lie down,” I say, stroking his hair. He nods against my neck. His embrace loosens, and he lets me flop down along the couch so I can hug my knees. At least this time my panties and skirt offer a scrap of modesty.

I hear him clear his throat, regaining coherence.

“Thanks,” I say.

A nervous laugh.
“You’re welcome… What are you doing, exactly? Is that a conception thing?” I feel him squeeze my toes.

“It’s probably pointless,” I admit. “But the theory is that you hold it all in, and gravity sort of helps the process.”

“I guess it can’t hurt.”

“That’s my thinking.”

A silent minute passes before Noah speaks. “Um…should I go?”

“Up to you,” I say, trying to sound casual and friendly and
hurtproof
.

“Could I stay a
little
while longer? I should drink some water and let the wine wear off before I drive.”

“Oh sorry, of course.
You stay as long as you like. I’ll be done absorbing in five minutes or so. We can back the DVD up, or see what’s on TV.”

“Cool, thanks.” His voice drips with relief.

“Hey, Noah?”
I say to the ceiling.

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for coming tonight.
In every sense of the word.
But you know, thanks for showing up. This was really nice. Thanks for making me come too.”

“Oh. Well, thanks for making me dinner.”

I laugh. “This is like some base-desires meet-up. What do we have left? Should we build a fire and some shelter?”

He squeezes my foot again. “I think you’ve wrecked me for the rest of the night.”

I suddenly think of poor Noah, venturing out into the fifteen-degree darkness, braving the lumpy, icy sidewalk again, starting up his cold, lonely car, and driving home to Jamaica Plain. It’s hard to stop myself from telling him he can stay the night…but it’s not fair to put him in a position to make that complex and nuanced a decision for us both. And I don’t know if I’m ready to wake up beside him or in the next room from him, to negotiate the shower in the morning, to wind up commuting downtown with him or whatever else might happen if we’re not vigilant.

Then again, we could have bonus sex in the morning.

Eventually Noah gets up, and I listen to him wander to the bathroom. I use the opportunity to put my bra and shirt back on. I can feel him leaking from me, like some precious prize escaping my grasp. I like it. It feels dirty and weirdly satisfying, as though this sexy, sweet man has soiled me. I’m grinning when he reappears from the kitchen with a tumbler of water.

I speak without even knowing I had something to say. “Can I talk to you?”

“Sure.” He sits on the coffee table right in front of me, attentive.

“I like you,” I say. “You seem really nice and thoughtful, and I really enjoyed having sex with you.”

“But?” he prompts.

“No, no buts. I…I can’t help but feel like I should be telling you to feel free to crash here. But I don’t want you to worry about what I really mean by that. I don’t want you to think I’ve changed what this is all about. I’m worried I’ll scare you off.
Which is stupid, considering the psycho circumstances.
”

“I think I understand what you mean.”

“So, what this is, it’s still the same. You’re here to impregnate me, for money. I’m not after a relationship. But we’re going to know each other kind of intensely for this week and maybe next month. Is it okay if I say stuff like that? Invite you to stay over? It doesn’t mean anything aside from, ‘I’d like you to stay over, if you want that too.’”

“I think you should feel free to say whatever it is you want,” Noah says, looking me in the eye. “And I promise to take you at face value and not read anything into it.”

I release a trapped breath. “Thank you. That’s what I was getting at.”

“And we’ll just both have to agree to not feel offended when the other person says no. I mean, there might be some night when I come over, and suddenly it’s two a.m., and it’s snowing, or we’re a little drunk, and I really just want to crash here. But if you say, ‘not tonight,’ then I’ll go home.”

“After you sober up,” I say and nudge his uninjured knee.

“Yeah…unless you feel like picking up my cab fare.”

“You keep doing what you just did, and you can help yourself to a kidney.”

* * *

Noah did sleep over.
In my bed.
We finished our movie,
then
stayed up watching TV, and I fell asleep toward the end of one of the late shows. We slept side by side, cautious,
neither of us ready or
wanting to risk the intimacy of bringing up spooning. He woke up just after me, and we smiled at each other before we spoke. It felt nice and just the tiniest bit nerve-racking, opening my eyes and finding him there.

He’s in the shower now. I hear the water turn off, and soon he emerges in the same clothes from yesterday.

I pour him a coffee and point at his torn pants. “Whatever will your fellow faculty members say?”

“If anybody asks, I’ll tell them I slipped this morning… Thank God my students are on break. They would’ve been all over a suspicious wardrobe repeat like a rash.”

“Can I pay for your pants? It’s my fault you ruined them.”

He smiles, filling me with warmth. “I’m a big boy, Abby. I can pay for my own pants.”

I slide along the counter until I’m close by him. “What time do we need to leave?” He already offered to drive us, a nice change for me from my icy trudge to the Porter Square subway stop and its endless escalator descent into the dim, grumpy realms of
commuterdom
.

“Half hour, probably, if you start work at nine,” he says.

“I do… May I attempt to seduce you?”

He takes a deep drink of his coffee, eyes focused out the window. “You may.”

Soon enough I’m on one of the barstools with my legs around his waist. His pants drop, and his boxer briefs join them, and I hold my panties aside for him. His cock looks great in the daylight as he strokes it to his fullest arousal. He could be a penis model for whatever it is penises might model. Cock rings, I guess. Other things I probably don’t want to know about.

“You have a great dick,” I say, not seeing why he shouldn’t hear this from me.

“Thanks.” He sounds distracted. He guides himself into me, pushing deep. “Abby.”

“Be greedy.” I’m lousy at coming first thing in the morning, plus we’re on a schedule.

Noah holds my thighs and pounds me. He’s as good at fucking as he is as getting ridden. At first his eyes are on the action; then he looks up, right at my face as he’s moaning.

“You feel so good,” I say. I make a circle with my thumb and index finger and position it at my entrance, giving his surging cock an extra tight treat.

“Your pussy’s so wet,” he groans.

“Yeah, for you.
You have something for me?” I purr.

“Oh yeah.”

“What do you have for me?”

He grunts, hips slapping hard. “
My cum
. I’ll give you all
my cum
.”

“Good.”

He moans my name again and again, and I know he’s close.

“Noah,” I say right back. I reach my hands around and grab his gorgeous ass. I wish there was a mirror behind him so I could watch it working, see those unexpected muscles tensing and thrusting at my command. I bring my palms around his waist and push his shirt and sweater up, just enough to catch a glimpse of a lean, muscular stomach I hadn’t even thought to wish for.

“God, I’m
gonna
come.” He presses his forehead hard into mine and groans. His hips hammer fast,
then
plunge deep, holding there, giving me what I need.

“Good boy,” I mutter through a deep breath. I let his shirt drop and run my hands over his arms, his neck,
his
hair. He withdraws, delirious, and I toddle to the bathroom. I don’t have time to lie around marinating so I slip in a light-absorbency tampon, hoping it might work like a cork, though I suspect it could easily do the opposite.
Classy thing, conception.

Noah is tucking his shirt back into his pants when I reappear.

“We better head out,” I say, glancing at the microwave clock. “Parking’s on me, by the way.”