In the Mix (33 page)

Me: “Dude!”

Him: Eye fuck.

Me: “I love your house,” I conceded due to soakage of my panties from said eye fuck.

Him: Smirk.

Me: “I’m gonna go change my panties.”

Kyle helped me usher myself into the bathroom. He also helped strip me of my panties and bend over my sink vanity so he could fuck me from behind.

Banner fucking week, huh?

Now today, I had to say goodbye and only God knows how long he’ll be gone for.

Three weeks and counting . . .

Pulling clothes out of the dryer, I hear the chime for Skype ringing through my laptop in the bedroom. I hurry up and run to the bed, plopping on my stomach and hitting accept. Kyle flashes up on my screen. I may have sighed.

“Hey, beautiful.” He smiles.

“Hey, yourself.” I push the laptop back a little. And then . . .

We stare.

Lips (his) and inside of cheeks (mine) are bit.

Smirks are made.

“Shut-up!” I say. It’s become a habit of mine to say this after we stare for a while.

“I can’t help it, there’s so much to say.” His usual reply. Thing is, at night (my time), we have nothing left to say because we talk constantly throughout the day. So we just take this time to connect visually. Sometimes we have a continuation of the day’s events that we’ll share. But mostly, it’s just us looking at each other and exchanging how badly we want to be together. The subject of video sex comes up—
all the time.
I won’t do it. I have no problem with phone sex. I just can’t do the video. He asks me why and I give him the same answer—personal choice. He’s not happy with that answer but he sucks it up.

“So, I have some good news.” He rubs his eyes.

“How do you already have any news when it’s six in the morning there?”

“The meeting for today got cancelled.”

“You’re coming home!” I practically screech.

“Well, no, not exactly.” He rubs the back of his neck. “There’s an issue in Germany. I’m flying there today.”

“Listen, you can’t solve Germany’s problems. Don’t they have a president or something there?” I’m not going to lie—I’m pissed.

“Beautiful, are you talking about Germany as a whole or are you on the same page as me and know we’re discussing our plant there?” I can see he’s trying to fight a laugh; he’s not doing a very good job.

“Of course I mean your plant, dipshit.” I lie. “Don’t you have a head asshole in charge over there?” I ask.

He eyes me suspiciously but I think he decides to let it go. “We do, but he’s clearly not doing what he’s supposed to be doing. I need to head over for damage control. I’m sorry, Ceese.” his shoulders slump.

“How long?” I look away. I don’t want him to see me tearing up. Not to sound like a selfish bitch here, but I’ve got a lot going on and am more than ready to throw in the towel and let him help me in a more hands on approach (both on and off the court—know what I’m sayin’?). Ok, fine, I’m being a selfish bitch. Whatever; I’ll own that shit. I just want him home.

“I don’t know. I will try to get home to you as soon as possible. Hey!” He sits up straight. “Come out here!”

“What? Kyle, I can’t come out there!” He is out of his damn mind.

“Why? You’re not that busy, close the shop for a few weeks.”

“I have bills that need to get paid. I have a shelter I am now in charge of. Oh, and I’m trying to sell my house. Do you really think taking off to Germany so lady boom boom can get some action is really a good idea?”

“I think I just fell for you a little harder . . .” he trails off.

“Huh?”

“Lady boom boom.” He bites back his smile.

“Stay focused, please,” I plead. He sighs then does a little shiver. “Jesus Christ, are you breaking out the riverdance now?”

“What?” He laughs. I imitate him. He laughs harder. “I miss the hell out of you, Birkita,” he says as he comes down from his laughing fit.

“I miss you, too.” I frown.

“Then come.”

“I’d love to come.” I waggle my brows at him.

“Ugh!” he grunts. “C’mon, say you will.”

“I don’t have a passport.” My hands fly out in emphasis.

“How is that even possible?”

“I stick to my turf.” I shrug.

“Where’s that—in the middle of
West Side Story?
”

“Haha, very funny, asshole.”

“Get the notepad with all of your lists in it.” He shuffles his finger at me. I roll my eyes, him and his fucking “lists.” I get up on my knees then reach over to the nightstand drawer where my trusty notepad is. “Stretch a little more,” he says softly. I jerk my head back to see him checking me out. So now I gotta get all dramatic and shit. I shift my knees so that he gets a full view of my ass. I will neither confirm nor deny that I may be moving in such a way that would be suggestive of getting it from behind. “Fuck and Jesus Christ,” Kyle says under his breath. Oh, I should probably mention that I’m only in my lacy G-string. While we’re on the subject—I hate these fuckers! I’m only wearing them because I ran out of my usual faves. Hence: laundry night. I don’t feel sexy wearing them; I feel like I need to pick my wedgie—all day! Kyle, apparently, does not agree with me. I hear Kyle let out a low groan and I suddenly don’t feel very good. I look over my shoulders and there he is . . . working things out on his end. I immediately turn to my laptop and shut it.

I sit in silence.

For about one minute till my phone sounds as if it will explode. It rings. It buzzes. It chimes. It sings. Wait for it . . . wait for it. It vibrates. I open my notepad to my list of things to do.

22.
See a therapist
.

The house phone starts. Not sure why he even has one since he’s
never
home. I finally take it off the receiver. I know this seems like very odd behavior on my part but if you only knew . . .

Ten minutes goes by and my cell rings again. I glance at it and see that it’s Charley.

“What the hell is going on?” she asks as soon as I answer.

“What do you mean?” Always play dumb first—just in case.

“Kyle is a mad man right now!” she yells in a whisper.

“Why?” Always get more info—just in case.

“Ceese, he thinks you have another guy there!” Urgent whisper.

“What?! No!” I sit up quickly. “Why the hell would he think that?”

“He said you abruptly ended your skype call with him and won’t answer him on any outlet.”

“So his first assumption is that I’m cheating on him?” My heart just dropped to the floor, people.

“No, but it’s the one sticking out the most. Look, Mitch is on the phone with him now, trying to calm him down. What the hell happened?”

“Tell Mitch to tell him that I will talk to him tomorrow. Also, that I would appreciate it if he would just drop this. It was totally my fault and had nothing to do with him.” I give her as much truth as I can.

“What does
this
have to do
with,
Ceese?” I can hear her frustration. I’m right there with her.

“Just tell him.” I hang up. I immediately text Maddie.

I need to see you for an office visit tomorrow.

I can’t hang out tomorrow.

No. I need a real office visit. I’m ready to talk.

I have 9am.

Ok.

I love you. It’s going to be ok.

Ok.

Is it, though? Is it really going to be ok? I’ve let something like this affect me for fifteen years now. Am I really going to go into Maddie’s office tomorrow, tell her everything, and magically—all will be well? My phone chimes to the beat of a text. I look. It’s from Kyle.

I don’t know what happened tonight. I’m sorry for my part, though, if I made you feel uncomfortable. It’s just . . . I miss you so much.

I miss touching you.

You are the only one I want.

I’m sorry I thought differently for a moment.

I’ll fix this.

I wish I knew what you were REALLY talking about.

Goodnight.

Goodnight, beautiful.

And with that, I plug my phone into the charger, get dressed for bed, make sure the house is locked up and security system on. I climb into bed and pray that I will find sleep soon.

“I love you, baby,” Drew murmurs against my neck.

“I love you, too.”

“Are you sure you’re ready for this?” He brings his head up to stare into my eyes.

“Yes. I am, Drew. I love you so much.” I slide my hands up his arms and thread my fingers into his hair, pulling him to me for another kiss. He reaches down and finds the hem of my dress. He kneels in front of me on the bed, allowing me to sit up so he can pull my dress off.

“You’re so beautiful, Ceese,” he says breathlessly as he runs his hands up my legs. I unhook my bra and listen to him groan as I lie back down. His hands immediately cover my breasts and I arch my back to his touch. I feel them slide down to the waist of my panties. He tugs and I lift my ass off the bed. Drew wastes no time yanking his clothes off. Between playing football and working out, he’s got a great build.

“Gah Drew!” I gasp when I feel his hot tongue licking up my center. Holy shit! Drew has fingered me before but he’s never gone down on me. Umm . . . ok, I don’t think Drew has ever gone down on anybody before because this feels a little uncoordinated and sloppy. I sort of want him to stop. “Drew, please.” I beg. He stops slobbering on me and climbs his way up my body, stopping to suck at my nipples. Mmm . . . that’s nice.

“Did that feel good, baby? Did you like it when I licked your pussy?” he asks before he kisses me.

“Mm hmm,” I lie. But that’s what you do when you’re in love, right?

“Are you ready? This may hurt you a little.” He rubs his dick up and down my lips and I feel a deep ache in me grow.

“Yes,” I pant.

“I love you, baby. I love you so much. I can’t wait to make you my wife.” And with that, he plunges into me. I grab at the sheets as my head arches back. My mouth is open but no sound is coming out. “God, baby, you’re so tight,” he groans near my ear. I’m never going to walk again after this. “Baby, I need to move.” He starts to pull out and then plunges in again. I feel like I’m being torn in two. “Baby, you need to relax.” He does it again.

“Wait. Wait. Oh God, please wait, Drew,” I plead. He’s not giving me enough time to acclimate.

“Are you ok, baby?”

“No. It hurts.” I whimper.

“I know, baby. It will feel better in a minute, I promise.” He kisses me. I open my mouth at the beckoning of his tongue. I moan slightly, enjoying the simplicity of this kiss. But then he pulls back and thrusts again. My yelp breaks our kiss. “Shh . . . shh,” he soothes me and pumps a little quicker. I’m actually glad—I want this to be over with. Finally, after a few moments, I relax, realizing it’s not so bad anymore. I’m also able to move my hips with his. “That’s it, baby . . . that’s it.” He wraps my leg around his waist and I groan at the newer fullness. Before I know it . . .

“God, Ceese—yes!”

That’s it? Wasn’t I supposed to have a “come to Jesus” moment? No. This must be wrong. I’ve watched videos with Jay. I’m supposed to be making an “O” face right now. This is it?

“Oh, baby, God I’m so in love with you.” He lifts his head off my chest. “Thank you.” He smiles, kisses my nose, pulls out, and rolls onto his back.

“Drew, I think you punctured something,” I say in a panic as I feel the blood pour out of me. Drew looks between my legs (God, how embarrassing.) and bites back his smile. His fingers start probing me. “What are you doing?”

“This is so fucking hot, baby.”

“Me, bleeding to death is hot?” I practically yell.

“Baby, that’s not your blood.” He swirls it around then plunges his fingers in again. “That’s my come, pouring out of you. It’s fucking hot as hell.”