The Sex Education of M.E. (32 page)

“I could get fired,” I whispered, one hand coming to his hair, holding his head against me while his tongue parted my folds and lapped at me.

“Good thing I’m a
fire man
,” he mocked, blowing against the tender skin that needed his mouth back where it had been.

“That was a terrible line.” I inhaled sharply as his mouth sucked my lower lips. All thoughts of losing my job evaporated as I lost control to Merek and his mouth. The blaze lit rapidly within me and I ignited quickly. My legs shook afterward and my body trembled. I needed to sit down.

He kissed my inner thigh as he pulled up my underwear. He stood methodically, dragging his body close to mine. His mouth captured mine, paying the same attention to my lips as he had below. He nipped and sucked in the same manner, then released his tongue to dance with mine. Kissing for too brief a time, he pulled back. I was dazed and sated, but I still needed more of him.

“That was…unexpected. Incredible, but unexpected.” I reached for his belt, and tugged the strap. “What about you?” I questioned nervously, uncertain I could follow through with going down on Merek in my office.

“This was all for you. An office visit. I make them, as well as house calls,” he teased.

Old love came to mind. Merek was excessively playful, and silly.

“Want to share my lunch?” I asked. I still had more than an hour before my next class. His mouth kissed me.

“I just did.”

I laughed. “Oh my God, Merek, I…” I what? I like him. It was more than that. I adored him. He made me feel young again. Forget old love, or rather embrace old love. I loved how silly he could be. I loved that he sent me flowers. I loved that he just gave me an orgasm in my office and he asked for nothing in return. I loved him. Plain and simple, old school, and all. I loved Merek. Instantly, I knew the words would be too much for him. Our start to a relationship was all backwards and bumpy roads, and I didn’t want to do anything to jeopardize it. I’d keep those words tucked away for a while. I was fine with that. Just fine.

“You what?” he asked, jostling my hips.

“I need to make that up to you.” My eyes shifted down to my toes then back up to his face.

“Tonight,” he said. “My shift isn’t done until midnight. I’ll come to you. Another house call.”

Merek and I had talked after getting caught at his house. We discussed how we’d work it out. How we could still use the apartment as our escape, but the place was further in town and twenty minutes from where we lived. We were three blocks and two minutes away from each other. We had to come up with another plan.

“I have a proposition for you,” he’d said. My eyes rolled. “I propose, we date. Real dates. Dinner, dancing, movies, whatever you’d like.” I remembered nodding my head to agree.

“I only have one hard limit,” I said, and watched as his face grew thoughtful.

“Okay,” he’d replied, hesitantly.

“We still have to have sex. And kissing. Lots of kissing.”
 

Marshall was already seated in the front row bleacher seats, the seat next to him empty. I took mine with a heavy thump.

“Well, imagine my surprise seeing you here,” he smirked, before standing and leaning over me. “Great seats.”

“Emme,” he breathed, reaching out to hug her. They connected over me, and I slapped his stomach hard.

“Get off my girl,” I said. Marshall pulled back and smacked my shoulder. Emme sat next to me and laughed. It was a glorious fall day; not quite releasing summer with its blue skies and mild temperature, not quite embracing the cold that can come in a Midwest September. I slipped my arm around Emme’s seat and she turned to face me. Without a thought, I kissed her.

I faced forward, feeling the weight of my brother’s eyes on me.

“Watch the game,” I muttered through closed lips, but my brother stared.

“Oh my God, I really won,” he scoffed.

“Won what?” Emme asked over me.

“Nothing,” Marshall and I yelped at the same time. Marshall slapped my shoulder again and sat back in his seat. Within minutes, the beer man called out and Marshall raised his hand for an order. I knew Emme would only sip hers, but I didn’t comment. I’d drink what she didn’t finish. With the cups passed down the row, Marshall waited until we each had ours.

“What should we drink to?” he teased. Emme sat forward and waited for me to respond.

“I know,” Marshall continued. He coughed as he said: “Commitment.” He tapped my plastic cup and drank heartily.

“You can be an ass,” I laughed as I took a drink.

“What’s that all about?” Emme asked quietly, smiling as she took a sip of beer.

“Nothing,” I shrugged. Emme’s hand rubbed down my arm and her fingers laced with mine. The touch wasn’t meant to start anything, but the feel of her hands on me were flicks of light from an ember fire.

“Nothing important,” I said, turning to kiss her shoulder. Pulling my head up, her eyes met mine and I kissed her again. I couldn’t help myself. Every single time we were together, I couldn’t keep my lips from her. She couldn’t keep her hands away from me. She told me how Nate and she weren’t very affectionate outside of the bedroom, and while I wasn’t one for public displays of affection, I never minded holding her hand or wrapping an arm around her. In fact, I liked the feel of it and did it often.

I kissed her again. She pulled back, thinking my intent was for something quick, but my hand reached up to cup her cheek, drawing her back to me. I lengthened the kiss, holding her lips to mine. Commitment, Marshall toasted. Devotion, that’s what this was. I was devoted to showing Emme over and over how much she meant to me. Kissing her was an important act to confirm my feelings. I’d waited nearly twenty years to share this intimate expression with someone, and I didn’t want the sensation to end.

“Get a room, will ya?” Bridge drawled in her Irish brogue, breaking me away from Emme while she sidestepped over my legs to get to the seat on the other side of Marshall. “Oh wait, you already have one, at Marshall’s.” She smirked, raising her eyebrows mischievously. “I don’t know whether to hose you down, or hose me down,” she said with a huff. “You’re looking at that girl like she’s a peanut and you want to crack her open.” She sighed. “Pregnancy hormones,” she muttered. Emme laughed.

“I appreciate those hormones,” Marshall commented.

“Well, it’d be nice if you appreciated a few other things,” she remarked in her heavy accent.

“Aww, baby, you know I love you,” Marshall said, and I did a double-take at his use of those words.

“That’s what you keep saying,” Bridge laughed, shaking her head. “Then this babe will be born and you’ll be running for the hills.”

“Hey Bridge, when you due again?” I chuckled, a thought coming to me.

“December,” she said. “Why?”

“Blackhawks season?” Mmmmm… “Boxseats are in order, Marshall,” I smirked, raising my eyebrow.

“Not gonna happen,” Marshall laughed, shaking his head.

“Oh, it’s gonna happen,” I teased. The second Marshall saw that newborn baby, he’d be on his knees, begging Bridge to marry him. Commitment was next for my baby brother. “I’d like full service wait staff, too, please.”

“You two are so strange,” Bridge commented, tossing out her wild red hair.

“Nah,” I said. “We’re just committed.” That made Marshall spit out his beer.

Later that night, Emme and I were in my kitchen. She leaned against my counter while I dropped pasta in the boiling pot of water.

“You know, you’ve called me ‘your girl,’ a few times,” she swallowed slowly, taking a sip of her wine. “Are you saying I’m your girlfriend?”

“I…”

“I’m a little old to be called that,” she wrinkled her nose, looking too cute as I could see the wheels start spinning behind her eyes. We’d been together for more than a month, juggling our schedules and that of our kids, trying to work in real dates and sexy time when we could, where we could. I wasn’t lying when I told her I wanted her in my bed. I didn’t like her always having to leave and sneak back home to her house where we would each end up sleeping alone. We had a weekend away planned for October, where we’d finally get a whole night alone and a real breakfast date.

“Maybe woman friend,” I teased. I could be demonstrative, and call her my woman, like I possessed her, but I didn’t think Emme would appreciate that. Besides, she owned me, not the other way around. I liked calling her my girl, like we were young. I wasn’t pretending we were, but it felt right calling her that.

“Ew, that sounds worse,” she chuckled.

“Emme, are you fishing for a label?” We weren’t fuck buddies. We were more than friends with benefits. I wasn’t lying when I said I could see Emme as my wife, but we were taking our time getting to that point.

“You can call me Uber. I can call you rider,” I teased.

“That was still the worst pick up line,” she said, her voice falling short. I approached where she stood against the counter. Bracing my feet on either side of hers, I took her face in my hands, tilting it up to me.

“Emme, I don’t want to pick you up, I want to keep you. I want to see you every day. Be in you every night. I want to hold you and touch you. I want to tell you about my day. I want to know the thoughts I see dancing behind those eyes. I don’t want one-time sex and one-night stands. I don’t want benefits. You are the benefit. I want you to be my friend and my lover. I want to fuck you and make love to you and kiss you and own you, because you own me, when you kiss me like you do, and make love to me, and fuck me. So deep, Emme, I feel you so deep around me and in me, it scares the crap out of me. I didn’t know I’d been biding my time, waiting for you, Emme. Now, I don’t want to waste time. And I don’t need a label for this.”

She stared at me, but within minutes, I had her perched on the counter, thrusting forward in the motion of sex, while my hands roved her breasts and her mouth captured mine. I don’t know who lurched for who first. It didn’t matter. All that mattered was Emme pressed against me. She was in my hands and on my mouth and in my heart.

“God, I love you,” she muttered against my lips. I stilled. My hands stopped roving. My mouth released hers. Our eyes met.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have let that out. Verbal vomit. Can’t control.” Her mouth did that spewing thing, like when we first met. My lips covered hers to stop her. Our mouths melded. One hand came to the back of her neck. The other laced fingers with hers. I pulled back after sucking her lower lip.

“Don’t take it back,” I whispered. “I love you, too.” The words weren’t difficult. Our mouths crashed again.

“Whipped. Chained. Spanked. Tied up. Unrestrained.” I muttered between kisses.

“You didn’t mention plugged or flogged,” she giggled against my mouth.

“Still waiting to experience those before I add them to the list,” I teased.

“Well, how hard can it be?” she laughed, wrapping her arms and legs around me while she balanced on the edge of the counter.

“Hard,” I smiled. “Very hard.” I thrust forward to prove my point. But the truth was Emme taught me to love again, and with her, that wasn’t difficult at all.

It takes a village to publish a book, and this holds especially true with this one. I want to first thank Ana Ivies and the women of Ana’s Attic: After Dark, who were honest in educating me, and the women (and a few men) in my reader group, Loving L.B. who helped select name, occupation and minor details of this older couple.