Pocketful of Sand

“Hell yeah, that’s right,” he says, flexing his hips and causing me to gasp at the hardness that’s already starting to take shape inside me. “Are you complaining about my testosterone?”


He swivels his hips, rubbing me in just the right spot. “God, no,” I moan quietly, tilting my pelvis to capture him more fully.

“Because I can leave if I’m bothering you.” He fastens his mouth on one nipple as he withdraws and then pushes all the way back into me, deep enough to rock my hips back.

“You’re bothering me alright,” I tell him breathlessly, “but I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“Good, because I’m thinking that as long as you’re here, you’re stuck with me.”

I don’t get to worry over that comment because Cole leans back and pulls me up into a sitting position, held in his arms, impaled on his length. But when I’m lying bonelessly beside him an hour later, I can think of little else.

????

As much as I’d love to wake up beside Cole, I’m afraid that Emmy will rise early again, a fluke thing, and find us in bed together. I don’t think she’s ready for that, no matter how much she likes Cole or thinks he makes me happy.

But in the wee hours, Cole, seemingly almost as in tune with Emmy’s welfare as I am, gives me a long, passionate kiss and announces that he’s leaving.

“I probably shouldn’t be here when Emmy gets up.”

I don’t argue, because it’s exactly what I was thinking.

I sit up to watch him dress, shafts of moonlight pouring through the curtains he insisted on opening. I want to see you, he’d said. I want to see your face when you come. I want to see your beautiful legs spread and I want to watch my cock slide in and out of you. I don’t ever want to forget what that looks like.

How was I going to say no to that? And now I’m getting the benefit. I can see his muscles flex as he pulls on his pants, like titanium machinery gliding smoothly under flawless skin. And I can see his face, partly shadowed, when he looks at me. That look that says he could stay here and make love to me forever and never get tired. That look that says he wants me more than he wants to eat. That look that says he wants… more. Only I don’t know exactly what “more” is for him.

“Will I see you later?” I ask.

“How about dinner tonight? I’ll cook.”

“I promised Emmy I’d take her to Bailey’s for a cheeseburger tonight. She did well on her math test and that’s what she wanted as a reward, so…”

“Can I come?”

I hide the smile that wants to light up my face. “I suppose we could put up with your incessant chatter for another night.” I see his wry expression. “What are you up to now? I mean, is the house across the street finished? Or will you be working on something else?”

“I’ll be back across the street tomorrow,” he responds vaguely.

“And today?”

I see his pause. I see his hesitation. I’ve overstepped.

“Today, I’ll be at the beach.”

It’s Sunday.

“Building a sandcastle?”

He nods once, his brow furrowing like it’s done so often since I’ve known him. The thing is, I haven’t seen him frown much in the last few days.

“We, um, we could come and help if you want. Or if you’d rather do it by yourself…” I let the sentence trail off, flabbergasted at my audacity. What the hell is wrong with me? It’s like I own him, like he can’t spend a minute without me or have a day that’s unaccounted for.

“Thanks, but–”

“Oh, God! I’m so sorry! Listen to me! I sound like a controlling fruitcake. Just forget I said anything,” I plead, covering my face with my hands. How. Humiliating. If he ever wondered whether I’ve had any kind of normal relationship in the past, I’m sure he has his answer now.

Cole pulls my hands from my face. His expression is kind, but inscrutable. “Don’t apologize. I want to be with you. But,” he adds, his smile small, “this is just something that’s…it’s just something that I have to do on my own.”

“I understand, Cole. Truly I do. I don’t know why I even offered.” I shake my head.

“Because you’re caring and fun and you want to be with me, too.”

I neither confirm nor deny his assumption, but he’s right. I do want to be with him.

“I’ll pick you up at six. And wear something formal. You’ve never been to Bailey’s at night.”

For a split second, I wonder if he’s serious. “You’re kidding, right?”

His laugh is a short bark. “Of course I’m kidding. Have you seen Bailey’s? You don’t even have to have teeth to get served in there.”

“Good point,” I concede. “I just wanted to make sure.”

Cole leans into me where I’m sitting on the bed. “If it were up to me, you could come naked. You’d be the best dressed person there. But there’s Emmy. And the police, of course. It probably wouldn’t end like I’d want it to–with you riding my cock at the bar.”

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