Danny (3 page)

Stacey looked on with a glazed, heavy-lidded,
after-sex look.

I gripped it, alternating between squeezing and
loosening my hold. Pre-cum beaded at the tip and I thumbed it,
spreading it around. He sucked in a breath, which I took as my cue
to really begin. With slow, languid motions, I stroked up and down,
letting my hand glide over the smooth skin. The movement wouldn’t
get him off, I knew; Danny needed more friction than that. But it
was a good way to tease him, keeping him aroused without letting
him finish.

I could tell by the way the muscles of his thighs
were alternating between tense and relaxed that he wanted so badly
for me to squeeze a little harder, stroke a little faster. He
looked at me intently, imploring me with sinful, brown bedroom eyes
to do more. I decided in that moment that I wanted to make this
memorable for him, for both of us.

On my next stroke down, I pressed my fingers
tighter, giving him the pressure he needed. His response was an
immediate upward thrust of his hips. From that point on, he began
meeting my down-strokes. I used my other hand to lift his sac and
roll it over my palm and fingers. His eyes closed, and his mouth
hung open as he panted his approval.

Soon, he was showing signs of being close to climax.
His breath came in ragged, choppy shudders, and his free hand
tightly gripped the blanket. The upward motion of his hips became
strained and shaky.

And I stopped.

When he pumped his hips frantically, trying to
create the motion on his own, I loosened my grip on his pulsing
erection. He groaned in protest and pierced me with a desperate
look, but I didn’t let his disappointment sway me.

When his breathing began to even out, I grabbed him
in my fist again. I kept this up for several minutes, stopping when
I felt like he was getting too close and resuming when he’d calmed.
He accepted it now, when I stopped; we both knew his orgasm would
be better in the end.

When even I couldn’t handle the suspense anymore, I
did the only logical thing: I leaned down and licked the tip of his
penis, savoring his gasp of pleasure. His thrusts against my hand
stopped altogether and he was stock still, like he was waiting to
see what I would do next.

It had been a long time since I’d given Danny
head--at least six months. But as I sucked him into my mouth, I
couldn’t think of anything I would rather have been doing at that
moment. He smelled like soap and man. The combination was
intoxicating, alluring, arousing.

He wouldn’t last long. That was obvious from the way
his sac tightened in my hand.

I snuck a glance at Stacey, only to find her staring
back at me, her expression unreadable. I wished I knew what she was
thinking. She must have noticed my hesitation, because she graced
me with a wink and a saucy smile. It was almost as if that look
freed me to truly enjoy myself, like some new understanding clicked
inside my brain. Stacey wanted me to do this.

Finally letting myself get caught up in the moment,
I licked him, sucked him, stroked him with abandon. I was a little
surprised to find that I wasn’t at all out of practice.

All too soon, Danny was breathing heavily and
moaning with pleasure. “Fuck, Paige. You’re gonna make me cum.” He
slid his fingers into my hair, lightly gripping the back of my
head.

I sucked harder, stroked faster.

“Puh--oh!” Danny sucked in a breath and tried again,
“Paige?”

I knew what he wanted. It was a question and a
warning all in one. “Mmm,” I moaned around his cock. That was all
it took.

The subtle bucking of Danny’s hips stopped
immediately, and his fingertips dug into my scalp just enough that
it was obvious he’d lost control. He inhaled sharply, holding that
breath for the span of three heartbeats, and blew it out on a low
groan. Warmth bathed my tongue, and I sucked until all the tension
left Danny’s body. When I finally pulled away from him, he was
relaxed and sated, and stared up at me with a look of appreciation.
My chest constricted again.

Avoiding eye contact with Stacey, I dropped down to
Danny’s other side, curling against him when he wrapped an arm
around me. I’d finally identified the tightness in my chest. Love.
I was still deeply in love with Danny. And with that love came a
jealousy I’d never before experienced.

I’d gone from caring about Stacey, wanting to be
with her, to being jealous of what she and Danny shared. These
newly discovered feelings were going to shake up my life, no doubt
about it. But for tonight, I was going to enjoy myself here in
front of the fire now, and again later in the bedroom. I would need
the memory to take away with me in the morning.

Because this was going to be the last time I would
ever do this with him and Stacey.

THIS TIME WHEN I
woke, sore and satisfied, to a hand drifting up
my thigh, I knew exactly where I was and exactly whom I was with.
Not daring to move a muscle, I opened my eyes to find Danny staring
back at me.

“Stacey?” I croaked, and swallowed against a dry
throat.

He knew what I was asking. “Shower.”

Yep, now that I thought about it, I could hear the
water running in the next room. It wasn’t like her to shower alone
when we were here. I started to pull my leg away, preparing to roll
to the edge of the bed.

“Paige, wait...”

I obeyed, perking up to hear what he had to say, but
he seemed to have trouble forming words beyond that. After a few
moments, I sat up and looked around for my clothes. Shit. They were
still in the living room, where I’d taken them off last night.

Well, Danny was just going to have to find another
way to cover himself. I grabbed the sheet, giving it a swift tug
before he had a chance to figure out what I was doing. With the
sheet wrapped around my body, I got up and made for the door to the
hall.

As much as I tried not to look at Danny as I rounded
the bed, I couldn’t help noticing him lying there, unfazed by his
exposed state. He was trying to affect a relaxed look, but the
morning wood stretching toward his navel gave him away. No doubt
he’d been trying to think of a way to talk me into taking care of
that for him.

The bed creaked as I padded toward the living room
and collected my rumpled clothing. I didn’t turn around until I was
completely dressed, but I could feel him watching me the whole
time.

When I finally faced him, he looked distraught
and--I looked down--not in the slightest bit turned on anymore.

“Paige, please don’t go.” He sounded weak,
tired.

“I can’t stay.” I sounded the same, I realized. I
looked around for my boots, eventually spotting them under the
coffee table.

“What happened to us?” Six months and a torrid
affair with the woman we’d originally hired as a sexual surrogate
to heal our marriage, and he was just now asking that question?

“What happened? I found someone who can be open with
me, intimate with me--someone who’s not afraid to take charge when
we’re together. And I fell for her--that’s what happened!” And he
had fallen for her, too, apparently. I’d spent years waiting for
Danny to be as comfortable as he now seemed to be. I would have
given anything, before we separated, to have him loosen up and take
charge in the bedroom, instead of over-thinking things to the point
of not being able to perform.

Now he was confident, skilled, playful. I would
never admit it to him, but it hurt that he’d only become the living
embodiment of my sexual fantasies after we’d called it quits. Was
it Stacey’s doing? Probably. It’s what she did for a living, after
all--and she was damn good at it.

The sound of Stacey clearing her throat made us both
turn toward the bedroom door. God, she even made a plain white
towel look like lingerie. She had a hand propped on one hip and
stood leaning against the doorframe with one ankle crossed over the
other. The pose exposed the tanned length of her upper thigh,
straight up to her hipbone.

Here I was, looking rumpled and wrinkled from sleep,
and she looked like an invitation for sex. No wonder Danny had run
straight into her arms when he and I had split. I’d basically done
the same thing.

“Danny, could you give us some privacy?” Stacey
didn’t move, didn’t take her eyes off me. Her voice was soft but
held a note of steel. Danny must have heard it, too, because he
turned on his heel and brushed past her on his way back into the
bedroom. Stacey reached back and pulled the door shut, then
sauntered toward me, her towel threatening to fall to the floor
with every step. “Paige, I know what’s going on.”

Well, shit. How quick could I get out the door? I
looked from my feet to my purse on the far end of the couch to the
front door. Not quick enough. I shuffled my feet awkwardly instead.
“I really need to go to work,” I mumbled lamely.

Stacey studied me with an inscrutable expression for
several seconds, and then nodded in a dismissive gesture. “Okay, I
won’t keep you. But we need to talk. Promise me you’ll come back
after work so we can?” I didn’t want to agree, and I guess she
could tell, because after a moment’s pause, she followed up with,
“If you don’t come back, I’ll just come to your place. You know I
will.”

“Yeah, okay. I’ll come back tonight.” I was reaching
for my purse before I’d even finished speaking. I thought about
going in for a kiss good-bye as I passed her on my way to the front
door, but with her arms crossed tight over her chest and the scowl
on her face, Stacey didn’t look anything close to accessible right
then.

I practically scurried out the door, barely noticing
that it was pouring rain. By the time I got into my Equinox, my
clothes were soaked through, but I didn’t care. In fact, miserable
discomfort kind of fit my mood. I rested my forehead on the
steering wheel and released a deep breath.

When Danny and I had split, I’d been so certain the
issues between us were irrevocable. Had I been wrong? Had I bailed
on our marriage too soon? My mind flashed back to the day we’d
finally called an end to things. We hadn’t even fought about
it.

I was waiting on the couch for Danny when he
lumbered through the front door of our bungalow. The 1940s,
craftsman-style house had been the place where I thought we’d have
babies, raise a family, grow old together. Instead, it was the
building where my dreams fell apart.

“I can’t do this anymore,” I told him as soon as
he’d shut the door.

He scrubbed a weary hand down his face, tracing his
five o’clock shadow with his fingertips. His briefcase landed next
to his feet with a thud, and he looked down at it as if it was
somehow the source of all of his problems. Then, in the blink of an
eye, he’d kicked it clear across the room to crash into the TV
stand. The flat-screen wobbled on its base before settling.

I was too surprised to react. In all the years I’d
known him, Danny had never gotten angry enough to act out
physically. Hell, he’d never even raised his voice during an
argument. I’d begun to believe that he wasn’t capable of anger.

I guess I’d have been wrong.

He paced the living room, refusing to look at me for
several minutes. Then he stopped in front of me, sank to his knees,
and grabbed my hands from my lap. “I love you.”

God, he was breaking my heart. I wanted to crawl
into his arms, whisper that I loved him, too, pretend none of this
had ever happened. But it had. “Danny, this isn’t a marriage.
You’re working all the time still, and when you are home, you’re
just...” I threw my hands up in a shrug. Rehashing everything was
just pointless. We’d been through it all. Repeatedly.

“I can’t help that I have to work overtime. That’s
part of being a doctor. You knew that when you married me.” He was
still holding my hands.

I took them back. “Daniel, I want a divorce.”

He stared at me without blinking for several
seconds, then rocked back on his heels and stood, pacing away a
moment later. He retraced his steps, only to pace away again. On
his third trip back, he pierced me with a glare. “Is there someone
else?”

I didn’t want to answer, so I looked down at his
sneakers.

“Who?” He ground the word out. “Is it someone I
know?” When I still didn’t answer, his voice became a growl. “Who
is he?”

“It’s Stacey,” I whispered.

Danny reeled as if I’d struck him, then practically
ran from the room, leaving me to contemplate what I’d done.

When he returned several minutes later, I was still
sitting there on the couch, still wondering if I was making the
right decision. He dropped into the armchair across from me,
resting his elbows on his knees. “Our Stacey--the sexual surrogate
who’s supposed to be helping us fix our relationship?”

I nodded.

“You’ve been cheating on me with the woman I’ve been
paying to help us?” He sounded so betrayed, so hurt, and in the
right light, I would swear there were tears in his eyes.

“No, it’s not like that! She doesn’t--” My voice
broke on a barely restrained sob. Dammit! I’d promised myself I
wouldn’t cry.

“She doesn’t what?” he demanded.

“She doesn’t know how I feel.” As soon as the words
were out, I buried my face in my hands. When I moved them, Danny
was gone. A moment later, our bedroom door slammed upstairs.

It suddenly felt stifling in our small house. If I
didn’t get out of there right that minute, I was going to
suffocate. I lurched from the sofa and out the front door. I didn’t
bother to grab my phone, or figure out where I was going, or even
throw on a pair of shoes. I just walked. And walked, for what
seemed like miles. Hours later, finally feeling the crisp chill of
autumn and the cold concrete under my bare feet, I turned around
and walked back.