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Authors: Elizabeth Hayley

Tags: #Literature & Fiction, #Women's Fiction, #Contemporary Women, #Romance, #Contemporary, #Contemporary Fiction

Pieces of Perfect (25 page)

BOOK: Pieces of Perfect
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I kept my eyes fixed on him, unable to look away as my parents silently processed Adam's words.  
 

After what seemed like an eternity, but was probably closer to 30 seconds, my father finally spoke.
 "Thank you for your honesty, Adam.  I respect that quality in a person.  And I can see that you truly love my daughter," he said sincerely.  
 

"I do," was all Adam said in return, letting his guard down a bit.
 

Gradually, the tension began to ease and the mood lightened.
 We relaxed as we realized that any residual awkwardness had finally evaporated.  My parents still asked Adam about himself.  But when he spoke of Eva, they didn't press him for information about her mother, though I knew they probably wanted to.  Instead, they seemed to focus on the positive, and I could tell they really understood how much he cared for those he loved.  
 

When we finished eating, Adam rose to clear the dishes.
 "Who's up for dessert?" he asked.  "I'll admit, I bought it at the store on my way, so it isn't nearly as good as the home-cooked meal you just enjoyed, but it wouldn't be a birthday without a cake.  Lynn would you like to light the candles?"  

 

*              *              *
 

             
The second the door closed behind my parents, I plopped down on the couch, too exhausted to move.  I had been dreading having Adam meet them.  There was enough tension between my parents and me
without the added component of a new boyfriend in the mix.  But Adam had handled it with grace and dignity, effectively answering my father’s probing questions, while simultaneously putting him in his place.  
 

             
Regardless of the fact that the night had ended on a high note, Adam knew that tonight had been both physically and emotionally draining on me, so he took a seat next to me on the sofa.  I moved toward the edge of the couch as leaned over to massage my shoulders.  “You did well,” he said.  “You worry too much about what people think of you,” he said softly.  “Just relax and be yourself.  Let people love you for you.”
 

             
Then tilting my head up to meet his, Adam took my tongue in his mouth, claiming me.  He stroked the back of my head, letting his fingers tangle in my hair in a way that sent immediate goose bumps across my skin.  I let myself melt into him, and taste the sweetness on his hot lips.

 

              My stomach tightened as he slid a hand down the front of my throat and chest before finally allowing his smooth fingers to graze my nipple with delicate desire.  I was restless with a familiar ache between my thighs, and I felt the slippery anticipatory wetness as my muscles clenched inside me.     
 

I clutched his neck, curling his messy hair around my fingers as he traced soft kisses down my skin to my collarbone.
 
God, I love that mouth.  
My hands tugged his shirt up, searching for his sculpted chest and rigid core.  He pulled away for a brief moment to remove his shirt, his emerald eyes blazing into me as he seated himself again.
 

I didn’t dare look away from him.
 Holding his gaze, I rose to unzip my dress, and Adam watched it fall softly to my feet as I stood before him.  “God, you’re beautiful.  I don’t tell you that enough,” he whispered against my stomach, caressing me with wet lips.  He reached behind me to unclasp my lace bra and slide it off each shoulder delicately.  “I mean, really beautiful.”  His fingers dug into the flesh of my ass before he clenched my panties between his teeth and fingertips and slowly pulled them down.  I stood posed: a naked, unyielding statue designed for his admiration.  I wanted him to study me.  To take in every inch of flesh, every imperfection as his eyes drank me in.
 

He hugged me against him, cradling me as he let me fall to my back against the plush cushions of the couch.
 His weight pressing against me was a welcome sensation, and I raked my fingers against his back and hard ass, willing him to take me.  My only interruption was my own urgent searching for his belt and zipper.  

 

“Speaking of beautiful,” I said between labored breaths as he climbed off of me to fully undress.  I reciprocated his earlier examination and allowed myself the pleasure of gazing boldly at this perfectly built specimen standing before me.  His sinewy biceps extended from broad shoulders. And his rigid chest narrowed toward his lean abdomen.  As my eyes worked their way down the definition of his abs, they focused on the length of his already slick cock.  Reaching up, I tugged steadily at him, feeling his thickness grow between my fingers as they curled around him.  He thrust forcefully toward me, allowing a groan to vibrate against his throat before escaping his lips.
 

I wrapped my mouth around him and pulled him deeper as my nails bore ardently into the stiff muscles of his ass.
 At this moment, towering over me with his hands twisting in my tousled hair, he possessed me completely.  His moans were raw, raspy, and unfiltered until he reluctantly pulled away, his dick pulsating on the verge of climax.  
 

Then he moved to kneel beside me, brushing his fingertips tenderly against my sensitive flesh.
 And my skin tingled in response.  His every touch worshipped me with a reverence so honest.  So generous.  My hips flexed involuntarily toward him, silently willing him to give me what I craved.  

 

“What do you want me to do?” he asked, stroking my nipple with the perfect amount of pressure.  

 

I slid my tongue across my dry lips before answering.  “I want to watch you put your fingers inside me.”  My legs fell open as a quiet invitation, and his thumb entered me.  He kneaded my ass eagerly with his palm and fingers, pulling my pelvis up toward him while he pressed his thumb forcefully against the inside of me.  The pressure of his thumb pushing toward the back of me and his hand surging me upward was an indescribable combination.
 

I writhed in response, my muscles straining from the pleasure.
 He parted my lips with his warm tongue and bit my own playfully.  Then, tilting my head to the side, he nibbled at my ear and sucked hungrily at the top of my neck sending soft chills down my skin.
 

I examined his hand pressing against me before he pulled out and left me wanting for a passing moment.
 His palm faced up now, and he slid his fingers deep inside me, twisting and massaging my insides while his thumb now worked expertly against my throbbing clit.  He leaned in to bite delicately at my nipples, elongating them with his teeth.  “Please . . . oh, God . . . please, Adam.  This feels incredible,” I managed to exhale between shaky breaths.  “I want you.”  I was so truthful, so exposed.  Yet, for the first time with Adam, I felt anything but vulnerable.  

 

He continued his seduction, bringing me closer to orgasm with each stroke of his fingers until he knew if he kept going I’d lose complete control of my body.  But as heavenly as that would feel, I wanted him inside me.  I needed his body pressed against mine as he moved in and out of me with soft precision.  

 

Adam pulled out of me, leaving his fingertips resting at the edge of my drenched opening for a moment before climbing onto me, his thickness invading me at last.  I wrapped my quivering calves around his thighs, urging him deeper.  I wasn’t going to last long.  With his powerful hands, he pinned my arms to the couch, leaving me prey to his provocative movements.

 

I couldn’t wait any longer, and the intensity of the orgasm tore through me.  He pumped into me faster, moaning his release, both of us shaking against the other.  And for the first time with Adam, I did not censor myself.  I let every deliciously vulgar phrase I could think of spill from my lips without concern for how he might perceive me.  

 

That’s when I finally realized that, for so long, my own self-worth had come from others’ opinions of me.  But with Adam it was different.  He showed me that it was my opinion of myself that really mattered.  So for the first time, I said the most truthful, uncensored sentence I had ever spoken to this man.  “I love you,” I breathed into him.  “I really love you."  

Thirty-One

 

            
 
For the first time in months, my mind felt clear.  The doubt and uncertainty I’d become so accustomed to had been replaced with a strong sense of commitment.  Of course I felt commitment to Adam.  But more importantly, I was finally committed to myself.  I had told Adam I loved him, and for the first time, I didn’t regret it.  I didn’t second guess my decision.  Love had found me, and I was never planning to let it go.  
 

Saturday night had been the last time I’d seen Adam because he left to go to the shore for Eva’s spring break the next morning.
 We had spoken a few times since he’d left, but with Eva there, it was easier to exchange texts.  

 

Wednesday night I texted him just to let him know I was thinking of him.  

 

Hope you’re having a fun time at the shore!  Just wanted to let you know I miss you.  Xoxo.

 

He responded almost instantly:  
 
Are there any parts of me you miss specifically???

 

Hmm, this could be interesting. I hadn’t seen this side of Adam before, but I definitely wanted to fuck it.  
I can think of a few . . . your mouth . . . your firm ass.

 

I miss your mouth and ass, too.  Anything else?
he replied.

 

Well, there is one part of you that I can’t seem to get enough of . . . Wait, should we be doing this?  Is Eva around?
 
I suddenly had to remind myself that he was on vacation with his daughter—who also happened to be one of my students.

 

Eva’s out on the deck.  I’m in my room.  I can’t call you in case she comes inside, but keep texting . . .  That part of me you can’t get enough of . . . it’s pretty hard right now.

 

I couldn’t believe it.   Adam Carter was sexting me.  And it seemed like he was going to be pretty fucking good at it, too.  
Lily, you lucky bitch!
 I locked my bedroom door and made myself comfortable on my bed.

 

             
You’re turning me on, too.  I wish you could feel how wet I am for you already
, I wrote back.
 
Max may have been able to make me wet with his voice, but Adam could apparently do it with just written words.  Before he replied, I sent another text, no longer bashful with this man.  
I wish I were there.  My tongue would make you even harder.
 
I couldn't stop myself from thinking of how tight the front of his jeans must feel with his erection pressed up against them. I wished I were there to unzip them and take him in my mouth.  

 

God, Lily.  I wish you were with me, too.  Touch yourself and tell me how wet you are.  Pretend I’m there.  

 

Jesus Christ!  Where was this Adam before now?
 
 

If only he knew I was one step ahead of him.
 I had already slid my hand down to massage myself gently.  Slowly.  Pretending it was Adam’s hand on me as I remembered how he worshipped me with his fingers Saturday night on my couch.  I thought about how far we’d come since our first date, when I had wanted Adam so badly but couldn't do this while I thought of him.  So much had changed.  Adam was so sexual to me now.  
God, Adam, my fingers are so slippery.  I’m imagining they’re yours moving against me.
 
 I wanted to know he was doing the same thing and picturing me.  I imagined him lying relaxed with a pillow against his headboard. One hand texting me and the other gripped tightly around himself, pulling steadily.  I pressed my hand in soft circles over my clit for a few moments before sending another text
.  You’re not gonna make me do this alone, are you?  

 

Oh, believe me.  You’re not doing this alone.  And it feels even better when I touch myself knowing you’re doing the same thing.
 

Pretend it’s my hand stroking you . . .
 getting you closer with every pull.
 I pictured his hand increasing its speed until he couldn’t wait any longer.  

 

             
Yes, Lily . . . you are
getting me closer.  I wish you could see me when I finish.
 

             
That line pushed me over the edge, causing my body to clench tightly around my own fingers as I thought of Adam making himself come for me.  When I was able to regain composure I texted him.  
Wow, you just got me off from an hour and a half away.  That’s pretty impressive.  I hope I have the same effect on you.  Are you coming for me yet?
 

             
Yes!  Lily. Oh, God.  I wish my hand was your mouth instead, so you could lick off all the evidence of my pleasure.
 

The thought of Adam slick with cum got me revved up again.
 
Wow, Adam.  I want you even more than I did a few minutes ago, if that's even possible.  Can't wait til you're home!

 

I miss you too.  I guess I didn't say that earlier lol.
 

I liked what you said better ; )
 This was definitely fun.  Although, it looks like I missed a perfectly good opportunity to try out FaceTime on my iPad.  
 

Haha, yes.
 FaceTime would have been even better.   p.s.  Are you talking about
your teacher iPad?   Isn’t that for work use only?
 

I couldn’t help but laugh out loud as I typed my next response:
 
Lmao!  Yes . . . but you are a parent of one of my students.  That counts, right?
 

Well played, lol.
 Have a good night.  Love you.
 

Love you too!
 

*
              *              *
 

Adam wasn't the only one who texted me that week. I guess it was to be expected that I would receive a text or two from Max, especially after our night at the Flyers fundraiser. We had experienced a closeness that was not prompted by sex. It had meant something to him, and it had meant something to me as well. However, now my feelings for both men were different.
Now I loved Adam, and my resolve was clearer than ever. So when Max texted to see how my break was going, I just gave him short, to-the-point answers.  And when he asked if I wanted to grab a drink on Thursday night, I simply told him I had other plans.  I didn't want to be rude, but I couldn't lead him on either.
 

However, I'd be an idiot to think that I could avoid an encounter with Max forever. I would see him at work soon enough, and I was sure a conversation about what happened between us at my apartment was inevitable.
 

So when the Tuesday after Easter rolled around, I wasn't surprised to see Max appear in my doorway after first period. It had become our tradition. "Hey, doll," he said cheerily, as he strolled confidently into my classroom, closing the door behind him. "I missed you over break. I was hoping we could have gotten together."
 

"Sorry," I replied sincerely, for more reasons than one. As I gazed into his honest sky blue eyes, I couldn't help but feel bad for how I had treated Max without even realizing it. For so long my concern had been for my own feelings.
 And for Adam's.  But never for Max's.

 

Max brushed his dark hair out of his face with his fingers. He still looked beautiful in his casual attire: a dark green Swift Hockey T-shirt and khaki cargo shorts, which hung low on his hips. "It's fine, Lil," he said with a grin that revealed dimples I somehow hadn't noticed until now. "We can make up for lost time. What do you say we head out to the announcer’s booth?  Old time's sake?" he asked, with a sly tilt of his head as he plopped himself down on the edge of my desk to face me.
 

I took in the sight of him from my chair. He leaned with one hand comfortably on my desk as he sat, legs open and relaxed. I was surprised at my ability to sit directly in front of his waist, knowing what awaited me under those shorts, and still resist him
—especially after I hadn't had sex in over a week. That realization only served to further confirm my commitment to Adam.
 

I looked up at him, as he sat powerfully above me, awaiting my answer. "Max, I can't."
 

"I know you're probably busy the day after break and all, but I have a feeling I can convince you," he said with that seductive rasp in his voice as he rose to stand behind me. Before I could find the right words to reply, he bent down, sweeping my hair away from my neck and planting soft kisses across my skin.

 

"Max, don't!"
 I immediately felt remorse for how direct, how harsh I sounded as I pulled away.
 

"What's wrong?
 After the fundraiser, you wanted this.  What did I do?" he asked, concern in his voice.  He moved to the side to face me, his eyes apologizing for something he hadn’t even done. That only made what I was about to tell him more difficult.

 

"Nothing, Max. I'm sorry.  You didn’t do anything wrong.”  I chose my words and tone carefully this time.  “My feelings have changed.  
I’ve
changed.”
 

He looked at me curiously, unsure of what I was trying to say.
 “Your feelings about who?  About me?  About Adam?”

 

“It’s hard to explain, Max.  I love you as a friend, but we can never be more.  I told you before that I didn't love Adam."  I averted my eyes toward the floor, unable to hold eye contact with him. "That was true when I said it, but something changed last weekend. I’m in love him now." I closed my eyes for a second, ashamed of how indecisive I must have sounded. "We can't do this."

 

He remained silent for a few seconds.  When I sensed his disappointment, I forced myself to look up.

 

His face had dropped, and he looked genuinely confused. I could see him attempting to mask his sadness with anger.  "You're serious?”  His voice was loud, harsh.  “Jesus, Lily. Make up your fucking mind already."

 

"I have," I said quietly.  He shook his head, and I watched him turn and move quickly toward the door.
 

Pausing briefly with his hand on the doorknob, he seemed as though he had something more to say but was deciding whether he should. "Yeah?
 Well you're making the wrong fucking choice," he said sternly.  Without turning around, he reached into his pocket, pulled out a small wrapped box, and placed it gently onto the student desk closest to the door.  “Happy birthday,” he said sadly.  His last words mingled with the slamming of the door after he left.
 

I sat, unmoving for a few minutes before standing to get the gift Max had left.
 I returned to my chair, knowing I’d probably want to be sitting as I unwrapped it.  The red paper was covered in airplanes, and I couldn’t help but let out a subtle laugh despite my mood.  Inside the box was a note.

 

We look good together.  Wish I could see you every morning like this.  Happy birthday, doll.

 

Love, Max
 

I lifted the soft white cotton from the jewelry box to remove a silver locket.
 The chain was solid: the type that wouldn’t get tangled, no matter how much it moved on itself.  I knew it had probably been an extra purchase, and the thoughtful touch was not lost on me.  I ran my fingers along the intricately engraved metal before opening the clasp.  Inside was a picture I didn’t know Max had even taken.  It must have been the morning after the fundraiser.  I’m asleep in my bed, my head resting peacefully on Max’s shoulder as he’s stretching his other arm up to snap the picture.  His grin is wide.  He looks happier than I ever remember seeing him as he holds me safely in his arm.   

 

Collapsing my head into my hands, I felt my eyes well instantly.  But I wasn’t the one who had the right to be crying.  I had hurt Max.  Not the other way around.  Until now, Max had seemed this solid, unstoppable force.  A stone wall incapable of breaking.  But somehow, with little more than a sentence, I had managed to crush him. I couldn't help but think back to the fundraiser when Max had displayed such a grand gesture to assure me that I was a good person. He'd been wrong.

 

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