Feel Like Making Love #amwriting

#12 Snooty and the Book Cover



Feel Like Making Love

So we got a room. His to be exact.

It’s funny. When you’ve gotten used to making love with someone as I did with Brad (although that was not often in the last months of our marriage), doing it with someone else can be eye opening. You realize that some men want you to be satisfied, that they take it slow, and let the passion build. You become lost in the sensations, some you’d never experienced before. It’s like remembering how to ride a bicycle, but now you have a fancy touring model.

At least, that’s how I feel.

My cheek rests on his chest afterward. His fingers stroke my hair.

“I can’t believe you’re not with someone,” I say. “Why is that?”

He chuckles softly. “Some of the women who want to date guys who look like me, think I’m going to tie them up. They think I’m all about the bondage.”

“You’re kidding,” I say and think a moment. “Are you?”

“Hell, no. I like to have a woman right there with me the entire time, feel her touching me. Bondage and the rough stuff are not for me.”

I rub my cheek against him, feeling content. And then there’s a knock at the door. It’s midnight. Who’d be knocking? Certainly if it were caretaker related stuff they’d have called.

He gets up, drags on his shorts, and crosses the room. He opens the door and then stands in the center of the doorway.

“What’s up, Megan?” he asks.

She’s persistent. I’ll give her that.

“I don’t want to be alone tonight,” she says, emotion saturating her voice.

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Can I come in? I really can’t be alone.”

“It’s not a good time,” he says.

“Why? Why isn’t it a good time?” she asks, her voice rising. It’s like she’s a hot air balloon becoming untethered.

He sighs. “I’m not alone.”

“Callie’s here, isn’t she? Well, don’t trust her. She’s totally duplicitous.”

“I’ll take that under advisement,” he says. “Goodnight.”

He closes the door and flips the lock. Immediately there’s a loud bang against it as if she kicked the door.

“I am a little worried about your taste in friends,” he says as he slides back between the sheets.

“I seem to need to do a lot of re-evaluating.”

“It’s never a bad thing,” he says.

I kiss his chest and then find myself on my back, my arms pinned above my head.

“I thought you weren’t up for bondage.”

He lowers his mouth to mine. The kiss deepens. He releases my wrists and I embrace him tightly against me.

“Up for round two?” he asks, between kisses.

In response, I wrap my ankles around his waist.


end 7/6/2017

Sascha Darlington

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