Rachel Gibson - Not Another Bad Date

She moaned deep in her throat and felt his satisfied laugh against the inside of her thigh. He parted her slick flesh and placed his hand beneath her bottom. He raised her like a feast and brought his mouth down.

Fourteen years ago he’d kissed that same spot. Only he was better at it now. Better at knowing how to use his tongue and how hard to draw her into his mouth. He teased and sucked until she almost came apart, then he slid a finger inside and touched her g-spot. He hadn’t known that trick fourteen years ago, and she came apart. “Zach,” she called, as a fierce orgasm clinched her insides and spread across her body. Her spine arched off the bed, and he stayed with her until the last shudder shook her body. Then he brushed his mouth across her inner thigh and stood.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a couple of weeks now.” He reached into the back pocket of his pants and pulled out a condom. “Are you ready for more?”

She felt boneless as she looked up at him. She should have been sated, ready to roll over and go to sleep, but as she stared at his beautiful body and powerful erection, she wanted more. A lot more, and she knew she would not be truly sated until she got it.

She sat up just enough to grasp his hand, pulling until he landed on top of her. His thick penis burned into her belly as she kissed his throat and shoulder and pushed him onto his back. Their heated skin stuck together where it touched, and she took the condom from his hand and opened it. He was more than ready, and she fit the latex over the plump head and unrolled it down the long, hard length of him.

“I think you’re going to like this.” She straddled his hips, positioned herself, then slowly sat. He was big and extremely hard, and she took her time, feeling every bulge and ridge through the thin latex until the head of his penis bumped her cervix.

His breath hissed from his lungs as his hands slid up her thighs and hips to her waist. “You look good up there. I like it already.”

“It gets better.” Slowly she raised herself, rocking her hips and sliding back down. She teased him with her body, clenching her muscles around him, drawing his flesh deeper, using him to build and stroke the sexual fire burning through her.

“You’ve learned a few things,” he said, his grip on her waist tightening.

She rolled and rotated her hips, feeding his need and hers, and looked into his drugged eyes as he watched her. She bent forward to kiss the side of his neck. Her breasts pressed into his chest, and she whispered into his ear, “You feel good. Hard. Huge.”

He rolled with them until she was on her back looking up into his face. His fingers curled with hers, and his mouth came down hard. His tongue drove into her mouth as he drove into her body. She felt light-headed like she might pass out as he pushed her up the bed with the powerful plunge of his hips. She tore her mouth from his, wrapped one leg around his waist, and matched him thrust for thrust. He propelled them toward orgasm, pushing again and again.

“Don’t stop. Don’t stop,” she whispered with each hard stroke, until the first wave grabbed her and wouldn’t let go as it rushed across her over and over for an eternity. It curled her toes and clenched her fists, and she opened her mouth on a silent scream.

He groaned words of pleasure and praise. He told her she was beautiful and how good she felt inside. With one last powerful drive of his hips, he shoved into her and stopped. His grasp on her fingers tightened, and he buried his face in the side of her neck. His release turned his back and shoulder muscles to stone and elicited a final groan that seemed to come from the pit of his soul.

His breath whispered across her cheek, and he kissed her ear. “Are you okay?”

“Mmm-hmm.”

“I didn’t hurt you?”

Hurt her? She laughed. “No.”

He raised his head and looked into her eyes. A totally unrepentant smile tilted his lips. “I got kind of rough there at the end. Sorry.”

She ran her hands up his shoulders and down his back. She looked up into Zach’s familiar brown eyes. Nothing about the sex she’d just had with Zach reminded her of the boy she’d once known. He was different now, and so was she. The biggest difference was that she didn’t love him. He’d just given her great sex. Incredible sex, but it wasn’t love. It had nothing to do with love, and that was just fine with her. The last thing she needed was to fall in love with the man who’d once broken her heart.

“Are you hungry?” He pressed his forehead into hers and ran his hand up her thigh. “Could you eat some pizza?”

Nothing had reminded her of the boy she’d once known until that moment. He’d always been ravenous right after sex. “How about a sandwich instead?”

“That’s really sexy.” Zach ran his gaze up Adele’s legs as he scratched his bare chest. He’d pulled on his jeans and appeared totally relaxed and at ease, sitting on a stool at the kitchen bar.

“What?” She handed him a glass of sweet tea and took a seat beside him.

“What you’re wearing.”

“This?” Adele glanced down at her white T-shirt, pinched the fabric, and held it away from her stomach. She was a little embarrassed that she didn’t have anything truly sexy to wear, but when she’d packed for her visit, she hadn’t exactly packed with sex in mind.

“Yeah.” He took a big bite of his ham-and-Swiss sandwich and washed it down with the sweet tea.

“It’s an old T-shirt.”

“But that’s what I always liked about you. You’re sexy without even trying.”

She was? She didn’t feel sexy these days. Between her work and her sister and Kendra, she mostly felt tired.

“If you think this T-shirt is sexy, you don’t get out enough.”

“Honey, I have a teenage daughter.” He set his glass on the bar. “I don’t get out at all.”

Adele found that hard to believe. “At all?”

“I haven’t been in the same room with a naked woman in a long time.”

“How long?” She took a drink of her tea.

“Let’s see. It was since before Devon died. I know that. Probably about four or five months before I served her with the divorce papers.”

The tea went down the wrong pipe, and she sputtered and coughed. “You were divorcing Devon?”

“Yeah, but don’t let it get out. Tiffany doesn’t know, and I’d like to keep it that way.”

“Okay, but…” She set the glass on the bar. “Never mind.”

He took a bite and chewed thoughtfully. “Never mind what?”

“It’s none of my business, but if you were divorcing Devon, why is your house practically a shrine to her?”

He set his sandwich on the plate and turned on the stool to face her. “We really haven’t changed much in the house since Devon died. The furniture in my bedroom and in the media room are new, but Tiffany likes things left the way they are.”

“Oh. That explains the big spooky portrait of Devon.” But sooner or later they would have to change. Keeping things the same couldn’t be healthy for either of them.

“You think it’s spooky?”

“Oh, yeah. You don’t?”

He shrugged. “I’m used to it, I guess. I don’t really even see it anymore.”

“The first time I was in your house and saw that portrait of Devon, I about had heart failure.”

“I bet.” He laughed and scratched his bare chest. “When I came home and saw you standing under the portico, I thought maybe I was hallucinating. You were standing there with your wild hair and white sweater, and you didn’t look very happy to see me.”

She turned to face him, and her bare knees slid between his denim-covered ones. “I was shocked. First by that enormously freaky portrait of Devon, then by you.”

He reached for her hand and kissed the backs of her fingers. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you after that day.” He flipped her hand over and kissed her wrist, sending warm tingles up her forearm to her elbow. “I know you’re only in Cedar Creek to help out your sister, but I’m glad. I’m a selfish bastard, and I’m glad you have to stick around for a while yet.”

After he finished eating, he made love to her again. He didn’t demand food afterward, and Adele drifted to sleep wrapped up in his arms. When she woke the next morning, she was alone.

Like all good one-night stands, Zach had left without so much as waking her. No empty promise to call her later. No awkward good-bye.

Those were the rules of sex without love. Those were the rules of two people hooking up. She was fine with it, even if it did feel a little hollow.

She turned onto her back and looked up at the patterns on the ceiling. Yes those were the rules, but she couldn’t help wondering where Zach was and what he was doing.

For some reason, the curse didn’t seem to zap him. At least not yet, and she wouldn’t mind using his body a few more times before the curse kicked in, and she had to kick him to the curb.

From across the shoe aisle, Devon Hamilton-Zemaitis eyed the new shipment of Metro7 dresses. From where she stood, she could see the choices were black, gray, and hot pink. Devon would never be caught dead, even when she was dead, in hot pink. Hot pink was vulgar, and gray washed her out.

To her left, she caught sight of her competition for the black jersey dolman. Her name was Jules Brussard, an upstart Junior Leaguer from New Orleans.

Devon jumped over a stack of shoe boxes, did a roundoff into a back handspring, and finished with a left-side hurdler, accidentally landing her foot in Jules’s ample chest. Jules flew backward and knocked over a rack of Hanes Her Way thigh slimmers.

“Sorry,” Devon said, hardly winded as she grabbed the black jersey from the rack.

Since getting sentenced to Walmart three years ago, Devon had learned a few things. First, that just because she’d been reduced to wearing Walmart couture didn’t mean she had to let herself go. Being dead hadn’t changed her fashion sensibilities. Naturally, she was envied by the other associates.