Missing (5 page)

Nathan let out a rough exclamation as her intimate muscles
tightened ruthlessly around him. Then he let go too, holding her pelvis down over
his as he pushed a few last times into her body.

She collapsed on top of him, sweating and completely
exhausted. Ripples of lingering pleasure shivered through her as she gasped
against his skin. “Wow. That was…that was…”

“Incredible.” His fingers finally relaxed from where they’d
been gripping the soft flesh of her hips.

She looked up at his face and saw that his expression
reflected hers—hot, dazed, and replete.

It was comforting. That she wasn’t the only one blown away
by the sex.

She heaved herself up and took care of the condom, limping
into the bathroom to throw it out and wash her hands and face.

As she stared at herself in the mirror, she almost didn’t
recognize the naked blonde with tangled hair, red cheeks, and red marks in more
than one place on her body that would turn into bruises tomorrow.

She stayed in the bathroom until she’d cooled down a little
and caught her breath. Then she returned to find that Nathan had readjusted on
the bed, this time stretched out the right way with his head on one of the
pillows. She crawled over next to him with a smile.

“I may need a little more recovery time after that round,”
he said dryly, although his eyes were warm.

“I wasn’t going to jump you again quite yet. I can
occasionally manage to restrain my impatience.” A glance at the clock showed it
wasn’t even eleven yet. “We still have plenty of time.”

For some reason, her belly twisted uncomfortably at the
words, at the thought. To distract herself, she asked a casual question about a
book he’d been reading when they got together three months ago.

They talked for a while, the time slipping by quickly as
they moved from topic to topic. Lynn never got tired of Nathan’s quick mind and
the way his verbal acumen challenged her. Talking to him wasn’t like talking to
anyone else.

But eventually they fell into a lull in conversation. Her
eyes rested on him, his relaxed body, the way his chest rose and fell with his
even breathing, the lingering interest in his eyes.

And a repeated question escaped before she could think it
through. “How long has it been since you’ve had a blow job?”

Nathan gave an almost imperceptible jerk as his eyes flew
over to study her face. He didn’t answer immediately. Then he said, “Years.”

“I suppose you've had so many in your life that they blur
together,” she quipped, trying to turn the inexplicable question into teasing.
“Weren’t you once considered a player?”

He gave a breath of laughter, responding to her teasing in
the spirit it was offered. “I vaguely recall something like that. Although I’m
not sure I ever achieved the debauchery that was lauded in the gossip columns when
I was in college.”

“Do you miss it?” she asked, knowing she was treading on
territory that was too personal, that was beyond their normal level of
interaction.

He shook his head. He wasn’t looking at her, but she thought
he was speaking the truth. “I couldn’t go back, even if I wanted to. Too much
has changed.”

He had two teenage daughters. He’d raised them by himself.
That would change a man.

 “What about you?” Nathan asked, looking back to her again.

“What about me
what
?”

“The last time you gave a blow job?”

“Oh.” She thought for a moment. “Matt.”

“So at least four years ago.”

She stared at him, her lips parting slightly.

“That’s when you got divorced, right?”

“Uh, yeah. But it wasn't the last time we had sex.”
Ridiculously, she felt almost embarrassed by the admission.

“Ah.”

She reached over and gave him a playful swat at the nuance
in his drawled word. “You know, Matt and I got married eight years ago. And, in
all that time, I’ve only slept with him, you, and a guy I dated for a few
months a couple years back. Shall we tally up the number of women
you've
slept
with in eight years?”

He shook his head with smile that held an expression she
couldn’t quite identify. “I’m quite sure it’s not as many as you think.”

“A couple hundred?”

He had let out an outraged huff before he realized she was
teasing. She giggled. And because she was still wrapped up in an odd mood, she
said without thinking, “Well, I haven’t fucked anyone but you in two years. Can
you beat that?”

When she realized what she’d just asked—what the question
implied—she was washed with a cold wave of anxiety.

What the hell was she thinking? They’d designed this
arrangement on purpose to avoid any sort of guilt or accountability.

To avoid any questions like that.

But Nathan didn’t react with surprise or annoyance. He just
arched his eyebrows. “I haven’t fucked anyone else since the first night we
spent together, so I don’t think you’re winning this little game.”

“Really?” she asked, immediately wishing her voice hadn't
squeaked the way it did on the question. “Why not?”

He gave a half-shrug. “I think you’re again overestimating
the extent of my social life.  I’m not interested in a serious relationship.
I’m sure I could hook up for one-night-stands, but my having that reputation
wouldn’t be good for my daughters. I could pay for sex, I suppose, but do you
really think that’s something I’m likely to do at this point in my life?”

“Oh.” She thought about what he said and tried to stamp down
the satisfaction she took in the fact that he hadn't been sleeping with anyone
else after all.

“What about you?”

“I’ve never paid for sex.” When he gave her an impatient
look, she smiled and said more seriously, “I guess I’d kind of like a serious
relationship, but I haven’t found anyone who seems to have any potential.” She
shrugged. “So, unless someone comes along who I think has possibilities, I’d
rather just fuck you than a bunch of losers I could date while waiting for the
right guy.”

Nathan was quiet, watching her thoughtfully.

He was quiet so long she shifted restlessly. “What?”

“I was just wondering if we could make our meetings more
frequent—since both of us are in the same position. We made it every three
months originally because we didn’t want there to be any confusion or
misunderstanding about feelings. But we understand each other, I think. We’re
not dating anyone else. I don’t know why more frequent nights would have to be
confusing.”

Lynn’s heart started to hammer—in excitement and anxiety
both. “That’s true,” she said slowly. “So what are you thinking?”

“Maybe once a month?

“And we’d keep the same arrangement? The 24th at eight
o’clock, no contact in between nights, no expectations about…anything?”

“Same arrangement. If we decide we don’t want to continue,
either one of us can still just not show up.”

Lynn thought about it for a minute, although she already
knew what her answer would be. The excitement had quickly overwhelmed any
nervousness she’d felt.

It made perfect sense. They’d managed just fine for
twenty-one months. Neither of them had been hurt or had unrealistic
expectations. They were both adults. They were free. And they were great in bed
together.

It would be so nice to only have to wait a month for her
next night with him.

“All right,” she agreed, after an appropriate-length pause.
“Let’s do it.”

They smiled at each other for a moment, during which she
started to feel a little uncomfortable again, for reasons she didn't
understand. So she broke the gaze and said cheerfully, “I’m going to take a
shower. I feel a little icky.”

Nathan seemed perfectly content with her plan and stretched
out more comfortably on the bed as she got up and walked to the bathroom.

She’d turned on the shower, stepped under the hot spray, and
was rinsing herself off when the shower curtain moved and Nathan appeared in
the shower with her.

She squealed in surprise, but she had no objections to his
joining her. They had fun soaping up and rinsing each other off, and then they
started to kiss. It turned deep quickly, and—despite the rush of water—Lynn
felt the pressure of arousal building between her legs.

She pulled out of the kiss and stared at him through the
water streaming down over them. She remembered what she’d wanted to do earlier,
and she remembered that he hadn’t fucked anyone but her since that first night
they’d spent together.

Almost two years.

Filled with a delicious entitlement, she kissed him again. He
wrapped his arms around her and pressed his naked body against hers, but she
pulled away after a minute and kissed a trail down his neck and his chest.

When she jostled one of his nipples with her tongue, he let
out a breathless, “Lynn.”

She hummed against his wet skin—he smelled strongly of soap
and of Nathan—and she bent her knees until she was sitting on the built-in
ledge on the corner of the shower and her mouth was directly in front of his
groin.

Nathan stared down at her, his eyes hot and hungry. His lips
parted, but he didn’t speak.

She grabbed his hips and pulled him a step closer to her.
Then she leaned forward and licked a line up his shaft.

He sucked in a breath, and the muscles of his belly
tightened. “Lynn?”

She smiled up at him and took his shaft—which was now
halfway erect—in her hand. She stroked it with her thumb.

Then she leaned forward and took him in her mouth.

He hissed in a breath through his teeth and braced himself
on the walls of the shower. He hardened fully as she slid her lips down
farther, teasing his tip with her tongue. She tested out a few techniques until
she settled on a rhythm, bobbing her head and squeezing the base of his
erection with her hand.

Nathan hadn’t spoken since that one breathless question, but
his hands tangled in her wet hair and his eyes never left the way he slid in
and out of her mouth.

She could feel the tension in his body intensify, but he
still seemed to be in control. He was holding himself still, only very gently
guiding her motion with his hands.

She could hear his breath hitch more than once, see the
primitive heat in his eyes as he gazed down at her, feel his body growing
tighter. Knowing that she was pleasing him turned her on as much as if he’d
been touching her.

She felt a deep pulsing between her thighs as she reached
beneath her mouth to gently massage his balls. He made a choked sound, and his
hand fisted in her hair.

She hummed around his hard flesh as he started to move. She
thought for a moment he was going to pull away, but he just readjusted so his
back was against one of the shower walls.

Lynn had to turn on the ledge to keep him in her mouth, but
she didn’t mind. She could tell from the tension in his thighs that he was
having to fight the instinct to fuck her mouth, and she appreciated the effort.

With the added stability of the shower wall behind him, she
was able to apply harder suction, accelerating her rhythm as his body began to
shake.

“Fuck,” he gasped, one of his hands still fisted in her hair
but the other flying up to fumble on the shower wall, as if seeking purchase.
He’d finally closed his eyes. He choked out, “I’m going to—fuck!”

His words had broken off abruptly when she’d given his balls
another squeeze. Her arousal was so strong now it ached, and she was completely
lost in the rhythm of her suction, the feel of him in her mouth, the visceral
tension in his body that was coiled so tightly she was sure it would break.

Then it did.

He froze for just a moment. Then his hips started to jerk
with rough, clumsy instinct, he clawed at the slick shower wall, and he
released a loud exclamation as he began to pulse in her mouth.

She’d never seen him so out of control. It was like all of
the feeling, tension, responsibility, and restraint he kept coiled tightly
inside him had suddenly been unleashed.

She gripped his hips with both hands and sustained the
suction until all of the spasms had passed. Since he’d already come twice
tonight, there wasn’t much semen to swallow.

“Fuck,” he rasped, when she finally let him slip from her
mouth. “Oh fuck.” He opened his eyes to look down on her, and his face, which
had been twisted in pleasure before, now looked both drained and replete.

She smiled at him and stood up, feeling absurdly shy at how
much he’d clearly enjoyed her ministrations. She searched her mind for
something clever or witty to say—for familiar irony to break the mood.

She couldn't think of a single thing to say.

“Thank you,” he said hoarsely. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I know I didn’t have to. It wasn't a pity blow job, you
know,” she replied, feeling more herself now that she thought of something
ironic to say. “Despite your long dry spell.”

He laughed softly but looked exhausted, absolutely spent.
She turned off the shower as she added, “I wanted to do it. I used to be pretty
good at that.”

“
Very
good,” he corrected, reaching for a towel. “You
still are.”

***

They got back in bed and rested a
while. Then had sex again at about two in the morning. They both dozed off
afterwards, and when Lynn woke up it was almost six.

She sat up in bed, disoriented by the strange setting and by
the inexplicable fact that Nathan was still asleep beside her.

One or the other of them always left the hotel room before
morning.

She slid out of bed, trying not to wake him, and was putting
on her clothes when she heard him stir.

His eyes were open when she turned to look.

“I've got to go," she explained, her voice soft
although there was no reason for staying quiet. "I’ll see you next month.”

He nodded, looking adorably fuzzy, until his eyes landed on
the bedside clock. He sat up in bed, very much like she had a minute earlier.
“How is it so late?” His eyes narrowed at the clock as if he didn’t believe it
was telling him the truth.