Page 26 of Conflagration
Her tongue strokes me and her head bobs up and down as she works me over, alternating between licking and sucking. When her dainty hand joins in, I'm surprised at the strength of her hold. I have to rest my head back against the chair, closing my eyes because I know that my resolve is quickly melting away. She moans again. Then she takes a hand and begins to massage my balls, and I know I'm a goner.
Just as I'm about to blow my load in her mouth, she pulls away, and I want to weep at the missing contact.
I jolt awake, momentarily dazed and confused as I take in my surroundings. Shaking my head, trying to make sense of what the hell is going on, I blink a few times to try and wipe away the haze. My living room comes into view, and when I look around, I see that the small lamp in the corner is on, giving me just enough light to see.
I’m lying in the reclining couch with a blanket covering me, and…well, hell. My hand’s in my shorts, resting on a massive erection. I groan as I lift the blanket, sighing in relief when I see that, while the dream was certainly erotic, at least it wasn’t a wet one. I haven’t had one of those since junior high, and even though I haven’t been laid in over a year, having one at this age would be embarrassing as hell.
But holy shit. What a dream. If Ari’s that good in my imagination, I can’t wait to find out just how good she is in real life. If I hadn’t wanted her before (I fucking did) then I want her now (okay, I just want her more now).
Looking around, I see that I’m alone, and unsubstantiated panic sets in. Where the hell is she?
I think back on the evening and I’m pretty sure I didn’t do anything to make her run away. Okay, so maybe I was jumping the gun a little bit on making this whole fake engagement real—temporarily—but she didn’t seem to mind. In fact, I think she liked the idea because it made it less of a lie. It’s probably ridiculous logic, but I meant what I said. If she’s here, we might as well make the most of it. Instead of spending weeks building up sexual tension and tiptoeing around our attraction, I figured why not just go ahead and put it out there? We’re both consenting adults, and if we want to fuck each other’s brains out, I don’t see any reason for waiting for society’s acceptable time frame to do so. And fuck her brains out is exactly what I want to do.
But it’s not just that. I’m not just physically attracted to her. I like her. And it’s fucking weird. It’s been a long damn time since I’ve liked a woman. I spend more time with my colleagues than anyone, and I don’t even like most of them, so any personal relationships I might have? Well, let’s just say I have none.
But tonight, when her cute, little nose wrinkled when I turned on South Park, I found it endearing and promised her that she’d love it. At least I hoped she did because it’s kind of my guilty pleasure. For the last decade or so, I’ve been relegated to watching it alone in my office while Megan watched her vapid reality television shows or cooking shows—not that she ever got any tips from those.
So when Ari struggled not to laugh after the first episode, I had a feeling that she was about to change her mind on the show. And then I couldn’t take my eyes off her when she was biting on her inner cheeks, trying not to let her laughter bubble up. Finally, I jabbed her in the stomach and then tickled her—careful to avoid her stitches as she finally let loose and admitted it was funny. And I loved it.
Then she settled into my embrace and we spent the next few hours hanging out, talking, and laughing as if we’ve known each other for years instead of just a mere week. And in the eight years that I’ve lived in this house, it was probably the most comfortable I’ve ever felt, and I know why. It’s because of her. Because, with her, I am comfortable. I can let loose.
I wasn’t wishing I were working and I didn’t have a single thought of spending the evening in my office like I did most nights with Megan. Not even close. I wanted nothing more than to be there on the couch with this beautiful woman curled up in my arms, and I loved every single second of it.
Not that I was trying to compare her to Megan. I’m not sure anyone compares to my ex. But it was hard not to do it because the more time I spend with her, the more I realize just how different she is. And just how attracted I am to her, both physically and mentally. And it makes me wonder how much differently my life would’ve have turned out if Megan had never shown up at my place that fateful day so many years ago.
And now that I’ve woken up alone, I’m wondering where in the hell she is. And how I’ve let myself get attached to her so quickly. I need to remember that this is temporary, and since it is, I don’t want to waste a single night without her in my arms.
Since I woke up covered with the blanket, I assume she’s gone to bed in my room, and I curse myself for falling asleep on her. I push the recliner down and lean forward, struggling a bit as I try to pull the wheelchair towards me. I’m in a straight-leg cast thanks to the broken bone in my knee, and as much as I wish I could walk to the bedroom on my own two feet, I’m reminded of the doctor’s orders not to put any weight on it. So when I get the chair situated in front of me, I balance myself on one leg and gently lower myself into the chair. My arm’s in a brace from where I sprained my wrist, but I’m still able to push the wheels and navigate to my room without too much trouble.
As I enter my room, I curse at the blackout curtains that make it nearly impossible to see. I have to take my phone out of my pocket and use it as a flashlight just to make sure I don’t run my leg into any hard surfaces.
When I near the bed, I see Ari’s sleeping on my side. Somehow, in her sleep, she’s thrown the covers off herself. I can’t help sneaking a peek, and as I shine my phone over her body, my throat tightens when I see her wearing a Wellington T-shirt. She’s practically swimming in it, but it looks good on her. It looks right.
As I move the light down, a whole different organ tightens at the sight of her in a pair of my boxers, her long, lean legs laid bare for me to see. I have to resist the urge to reach out and caress them. Instead, I push the chair back and round the bed, anxious to crawl in beside her.
Just as I’m standing to climb into bed, my sock slips on the hardwood floor, causing my foot to fly out from under me. I try to grab the bed as I fall, but my ass hits the very edge of the chair, which goes flying backwards, and before I know it, I’m yelling out a string of expletives and I land flat on my back, knocking the wind out of me.
As sharp pain reverberates throughout my body, I close my eyes and grit my teeth, trying to erase the stars I see in my vision. I faintly register the sound of the sheets rustling, but I’m too busy concentrating on catching my breath to understand what it means. Until I feel someone hovering over me, my waist being straddled.
“Oh my God, Branson, are you okay? Are you conscious? Oh shit,” she says in rapid succession, nearly sounding panicked. She touches my face, gently tapping on my cheek with her fingers. “Branson? Branson? Wake up.”
“I’m awake, baby,” I manage to say, and I hear her audibly sigh with relief. “Just trying to catch my bearings.” When I open my eyes, I see that she’s peering down at me, a concerned expression.
“Are you okay?” she repeats, and I nod.
“Yeah, I think so. Just a bruised ego. And maybe a bruised ass. You’ll have to check for me later,” I tell her, giving her a wink.
Apparently, she’s not amused. She pushes off my chest, and I miss the warmth of her body covering mine instantly.
“What the hell were you thinking? You shouldn’t have been up by yourself, let alone trying to climb into this monstrous bed,” she scolds.
I run my finger along the bottom of my boxer shorts, feeling the soft, bare skin of her thigh. “I was thinking how unfair it was that a beautiful woman was in my bed and I wasn’t there with her. I was thinking that, for the first time since I can remember, I didn’t want to sleep alone.” My hand stops moving and rests on her bare thigh, and her eyes soften. “And I may have been thinking about that whole consummation discussion we had earlier.”
She cocks an eyebrow as she looks down at me. “Wow, and you were on such a roll there. Without that last line, you may have actually gotten a little closer to ‘that whole consummation thing,’” she says, using her fingers to make air quotes, “but then you had to go and ruin it.”
I groan, and a wicked smile crosses her lips. It’s the same smile I pictured in my dreams, and I harden instantly.
She leans down until her lips are hovering just over my ear. “And it’s too bad, Branson. Because, before I went to bed, that was the last thing on my mind, too.” With that, she stands up and moves out of reach. She must see the pained expression on my face—not from physical pain—because she laughs then holds out a hand. “Let’s see if we can’t actually get you into bed this time.”
