Into the Blue (A Wild Aces Romance) (11 page)

“You did what?” Lizzie screeched, her eyes wide as she stared at me across the couch.

I flushed. “Come on, have you seen him lately? Tell me you wouldn’t have done the same thing.”

“I saw him running yesterday. I would climb him like a jungle gym, but that’s beside the point.”

I snorted, taking another sip of wine. The alcohol was definitely getting to Lizzie. Girls’ nights were few and far between since she’d had her son, but we still managed to get together every once in a while, even on a Tuesday. This was one of those nights when I needed my best friend.

“So how was it? Scale of one to ten.”

“Four hundred and twenty-two.”

“Damn. Have you talked to him since?”

“He texted.”

“And?”

“And he wants to go out on Friday night.”

“What did you say?”

“I told him I’d think about it.”

“Why? You don’t think about a four hundred and twenty-two.”

“You do if he broke your heart.”

“True. It’s a shame you can’t just enjoy his body without all the emotional stuff getting in the way.”

“Amen, sister.”

“Wait. Can you?”

“Can I what?”

“Just enjoy his body without all the emotional stuff getting in the way?”

That was the million-dollar question.

“I don’t know. I want to. It’s so good with him. I mean, better than I remembered, and he was always the best I’d ever had.” I took another sip of wine. “But the problem is, just as easy as it is to imagine falling back into bed with him, it’s just as easy to imagine slipping back into our old habit patterns. Into the relationship we had.”

“Have you guys talked about what he wants? I mean, he’s back. He’s never been back before. Surely that means something.”

I wanted to tell myself that. I wanted to believe it. But unfortunately, I didn’t know how much I trusted him anymore. Or my own instincts.

“He’s going through a rough time. I get it. And I feel badly for him; I do. But I don’t want him to use me like I’m some kind of Band-Aid. To come back here because he can, or because it’s safe. To have me fix him and then leave again.”

I wanted the upper hand here, wanted him to feel the way I felt—

“What do you want?” Lizzie asked, echoing my thoughts.

“I want him to want me so badly that he’s desperate for it. Begging for it.”

Maybe not actually begging, but close enough. For once, I didn’t want him to sweep me off my feet. I wanted to bring him to his knees.

“So you want to have sex with him?”

So badly.
The idea of stripping Eric naked and getting him between my legs had burned itself in my mind and refused to leave. I just didn’t know how to get him there on
my
terms. I knew he wanted me, that whatever burned between us burned fiery hot, knew he found me attractive, and still, I’d never been that girl.

For one night, I wanted to be a fantasy. His fantasy. I wanted to grasp the power in my palm, right alongside his dick and his heart.

“Yeah.”

“Like hate sex?” Lizzie asked, the expression on her face a mask of confusion.

Maybe I sounded like a crazy person. I didn’t know how to explain it to someone who’d only been with one guy, who’d treated her like a princess their entire relationship.

“I don’t hate him. I just want to break him.” I winced. “Not the way it sounds.”

It was official; I was a horrible person. Poor Lizzie—married-for-a-dozen-years Lizzie—looked at me like I’d started the slippery slide into insanity.

“And have sex with him?”

“Yes.” I sighed. “I want to give him a night that he can’t forget, a memory that will haunt him every single time he’s with someone else. I want to feel good, to make him feel so good his mind is blown, and then when it comes time to say good-bye, I want him to stand there, watching me walk
away, feeling like I’ve left a void in his life that he can’t fill.”

“Because that’s what he did to you?” she asked, her voice soft, eyes sad.

“He didn’t—”

“Didn’t what?”

“It wasn’t like that. We were together for over five years; it’s not like it was wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am.”

“But he left.”

“Yeah.”

“And you’re angry.”

So much, yes. I kept trying to move past the anger, to let go, to
forgive
, and I just couldn’t. So now I’d given up on letting go of those feelings; instead I wanted to harness them for something else. I wanted to fuck my heartbreak away.

I took a long gulp of my wine, draining the glass dry.

“Maybe he regrets it,” Lizzie suggested. “Maybe he wishes he could do things differently, go back in time and make another choice.”

Maybe. But it truly was too little too late. I didn’t tell her the saddest part, how I’d had that same stupid fantasy for years after he’d left. That there had been a part of me that hadn’t been able to believe he was really gone, that we were really over, and had waited, convinced he’d come back.

“I don’t think so. He’s just visiting; he’s only here for another week or so and then he’ll be back in Oklahoma. He made his choice and he has the life he always wanted. I don’t think anything is going to change.”

“Then maybe you shouldn’t get involved with him. I’m worried you’re going to have sex with him and history will repeat itself. It seems like you still have a lot of feelings about all of this. I’m not sure sex is your best play here.”

All good points, but our trip to the Eggers farm had changed everything.

“I’m not twenty-one anymore, and I know who he is now. I thought our relationship was the most important thing for him, never imagined he would dump me for a fucking plane. I now know differently.

“Have you ever looked back on a part of your life with regret? Like if you could have a do-over, would you take it?” I asked, struggling to explain it.

Lizzie grinned. “Sure. I would have gone out with Matt Adams when he asked me to the eighth grade dance.”

“You did have a huge crush on him.”

“It’s not like I would have wanted for it to go anywhere past eighth grade, but I guess it would have been nice to have that moment, you know?”

“I do. This is my Matt Adams moment.”

Lizzie laughed. “Somehow I don’t think you wanting to screw your ex blind is the same thing as me wanting to have a few awkward dances with my eighth grade crush.”

“Potato, po-tah-toe.”

“For the record, I think it’s a terrible idea.”

I poured myself more wine. “So you’ll help me?”

Her eyes gleamed. “Hell yes.”

*   *   *

On Wednesday we met at Shh!, a store that catered to seduction. From the outside, you never would have known the store was an erotic treasure trove. It had a fairly industrial look to it, the red lipstick kiss logo on the sign out front the only thing that hinted at a naughtier side.

Inside was a different story entirely.

Lizzie clutched my arm, her eyes wide as we walked into
dildo-ville. I wasn’t a prude by any stretch of the imagination, but a giant foot-long phallus was a little startling. Especially on my lunch hour. Buy a girl a drink first.

“You are definitely buying something. No way am I doing this alone.”

Lizzie grinned. “That’s one way to make it up to Adam for having to get a babysitter.”

“Sorry about that.”

“Please. You need your best friend for moral support.”

I laughed. “I definitely do.” I took a deep breath, already feeling sensory overload at the bright, flashing lights and the thumping music that gave the feel that we were in a porno film. “Okay, I only have an hour. Let’s do this.”

We perused the shelves, cracking up a bit over the various implements they had for sale. Some of it was sexy, but most of it was just . . . a little
too
out there. Like the giant blowup doll. And the male thong with a pouch that resembled a barnyard animal. How having a pig over your cock was supposed to be sexy, I’d never know.

We hit the lingerie section, and I attacked with the intensity of a general planning a military campaign. Judging by the enormous bouquet of flowers that had arrived at my office this morning, keeping him on his toes was going better than I’d anticipated.

“What about this?” Lizzie held up a sexy schoolgirl outfit.

I wrinkled my nose. “I feel as if that’s more like letting him have all the power. I want to feel in charge.”

Her next selection was black leather and chains.

I laughed. “Maybe a step too far. I don’t want him licking my boot or anything.”

“Just on his knees.”

I grinned. “Exactly.”

We grabbed different outfits, discarding a naughty nurse ensemble that, while hot, was probably a little too costumey for me to pull off. I worried that if I felt silly rather than sexy, the whole thing would fall apart, since I clung to sexy by a thread that threatened to disintegrate under the weight of my nerves.

I made Lizzie grab a few outfits to try on, figuring she and Adam deserved a freaky-naughty night. I promised to watch Dylan so they could have some privacy.

We tried on outfits, exchanging giggles as each one was more ridiculous than the last. And then I got to the final piece of lingerie, slipped it on, and felt that inaudible click.

Oh yeah.

This was the one.

“Did you find something?” Lizzie asked, calling to me from the other side of the curtain.

“I did.”

I couldn’t take my gaze off my reflection in the mirror. I felt sexy in this one, like I was still me, but a more wicked version of me. A girl who wasn’t afraid to go after what she wanted. A girl who could have the man she craved, any way she wanted him.

“Is the plan still for you guys to meet on Friday for dinner?” Lizzie asked.

“We actually don’t have a plan. Yet.”

“What do you mean? I thought he texted and asked you out yesterday.”

“He did. I haven’t responded.”

And then inspiration struck.

I peeked out from behind the curtain, the fabric hiding my body.

“Question. I want to be clear with him that this is just
sex. And I want the upper hand.” I wanted this to be fun. Not sad exes reconnecting or anything like that. “Up until now, all of the moves have been his. How bad is it if I send him a picture? Hot or desperate?”

Lizzie grinned. “Well, first off, you guys were together for like forever. Second, I was there Friday night and he looked at you like he was gagging for it. And finally, he went down on you in a field on Monday. I’m thinking a Wednesday sext is well timed.”

And that was why she was my best friend.

I disappeared behind the curtain, my heart hammering. I’d never actually sent a guy a naked picture of myself. Given my job, anything with my face in it, anything that made me recognizable, was totally and completely out of the question. But a cleavage shot?

I wanted him off balance when I saw him. And I didn’t want to wait until Friday.

I pulled my phone out of my purse, my fingers trembling slightly as I turned on the camera. I played around with the angle a bit, taking a few test shots, gaining a whole new appreciation for people who took selfies. Finding a good angle was no joke. Finally, I found one I liked, not bothering to feel guilty about the fact that I adjusted the filter—after all, the push-up magic of the bra was already false advertising. Besides, all was fair in love and war—or in our case, sex and war.

I composed the message, giving him the four things he needed:

A picture of my breasts, popped up to impressive heights, heavy and full in black lace. And then the message—

My place. Tonight. Seven p.m.

The cold shower didn’t do a damned thing to help. Ever since Monday, ever since I’d found myself between Becca’s legs, my tongue on her clit, my lips on her pussy, my cock had been hard and aching, begging for release. I couldn’t forget the sound of her moans, or the way her nails had scored my skin, or the taste of her in my mouth.

I was high on her, and by the way my dick tented my towel, I wasn’t coming down anytime soon. I was a junkie who needed my next fix, and the pisser of it all was that after I’d texted her and asked her out, even after I’d made her come so hard her body shook, she hadn’t responded.

I’d checked my phone approximately two hundred and sixty-eight times in the last twenty-four hours.

Crickets.

I removed the towel from my waist, drying my torso, balls, cock, gripping the base, stroking up, over the tip, figuring this was the only way I’d find relief anytime soon.

After our picnic there was no doubt in my mind that she wanted me, but at the same time, I didn’t know if it was enough for her to give us a shot, to let me in. Didn’t know if I was enough.

I’d sent her flowers. Big, fat roses. Nothing.

I sat on the bed, leaning back against the pillows, my hand between my thighs, eyes closed, imagining it was Becca’s mouth on me—hot, wet—her tongue licking me from base to tip, her lips closing down around me, sucking me deep—

My phone beeped. I froze. It beeped again.

I abandoned my cock, lunging for the nightstand, my heart lurching as I felt a mix of hope and dread—that it was
Becca, that she wanted to go out with me, that she didn’t want to go out with me, that it wasn’t her at all and I was stuck in limbo still.

I grabbed my phone, closing my eyes as I whispered a silent prayer. I opened them and my mouth went dry, dick rock hard, and my heart fucking stopped.

For an instant I was convinced I’d gotten the text by mistake, that it was meant for someone else. But then I saw her name, and the message, and really, I deserved a medal for being able to read and focus on anything at all in the face of that picture.

I was momentarily speechless, the image of her full, perky tits, pushed up like an offering, rosy, red nipples peaked and ready for my mouth and hands, encased in black lace. Seeing her tits pushed together like that . . .

I wanted to fuck her there. Wanted to drag my cock between them, surrounding myself in her silky skin, watching my cock, wet from her pussy and mouth, slide in and out, wanting to come on her tits, to mark her up.

I groaned, my hand sliding down my body, cupping my balls, squeezing gently before sliding up and fisting my dick. I’d been close before, but the sight of her tits, her nipples, the knowledge that she wanted me as much as I wanted her, simply broke me.

I squeezed and stroked myself, hard and fast, gazing the entire time at the picture she’d sent, imagining all the things I wanted to do to her tonight. All the things I
would
do to her tonight.

I felt it, building up inside me, my balls tightening, cock hard to the point of pain as I increased my motions, pumping harder, faster, and then I was coming, my body shuddering and quaking as my release wore me out.

I fell back against the pillow, my hand at my side, my chest heaving and falling like I’d run a marathon.

If it was like that after my hand and a photograph, I could only imagine how fucking fantastic it would be when I had
her
.

I cleaned myself off with the towel and grabbed the phone, shooting off a quick text.

I can’t wait to fuck you all
night
.