Broken Dream, page 11
I guide myself to her pussy, teasing her with the tip. Her thighs tighten around my waist in response, a small whimper escaping from her parted lips.
Then I thrust into her.
The sensation is electrifying.
She gasps at my size but then moans as I begin to move. She responds, meeting every thrust with an eager push of her hips.
“Jason,” she moans, digging her fingers into my shoulders.
I pepper her neck with kisses as I thrust deeper and faster. Each plunge sends a wave of pleasure rippling through me.
God, it’s been so long.
So fucking long.
She sucks me in so perfectly, as if she was made only for me.
She wraps her legs tighter around my waist, pulling me deeper into her. I can feel her muscles tighten around me as she nears another climax.
I don’t stop moving even as she writhes beneath me, her body shaking with pleasure. Her release only spurs me on, and I continue to thrust into her, seeking my own climax.
“Angie,” I grunt out, the heat building in the pit of my stomach.
“Jason.” She pulls me down, crashing her lips onto mine and muddling our moans together.
That’s all it takes for me to tip over the edge. With a deep shudder, I spill into her, my body going rigid as waves of pleasure crash over me. The world blurs around the edges, all sounds fading into a distant hum.
I’m coming.
Coming inside a woman.
A beautiful woman.
But a woman who’s not my wife.
Slowly, reality begins to seep back in.
I pull out.
She’s still smiling with a look of pure and hazy contentment on her beautiful face.
Oh my God.
What have I done?
We’re in her kitchen.
I didn’t even take her into the bedroom.
I look down at my dick, still wrapped in the condom.
It was inside another woman.
Lindsay was my first. I didn’t have sex until I was in college. Late bloomer, I guess. I’ve never been inside another woman before.
And I chose Angie. A student. A twenty-three-year-old student.
The desire. The heat between us.
It was new, erotic, forbidden, and so intoxicating that I lost control. Is this how it feels to be with someone else after years of monogamy and then celibacy? To take another woman into my arms, to taste her skin, join our bodies in the best fuck of all time?
A pang of guilt stabs me.
Angie cups my cheek and scrapes her fingers against my stubble. “Jason,” she murmurs softly. Her voice is heavy with satisfaction. And with…affection?
I swallow hard, determined to mask my vulnerability. I pull away from her slowly, making sure she’s all right before adjusting myself and discarding the condom.
Reality has a nasty way of crashing in. I’ve crossed a line that should not have been crossed. She’s my student, she’s younger than I am, and she expects me to guide her through her education.
Not through this.
But what’s done is done.
I can’t turn back time and undo what just happened between us. In some twisted way, I don’t want to, either. As wrong as it may have been, being with Angie felt right—so right that it scares me.
I quickly dress, finding my clothes strewn around in the kitchen.
I need to say something to her…but what?
My heart hammers as I finally muster up the courage to look at her. She meets my gaze, her eyes still shining with warmth, her cheeks flushed a rosy pink.
She’s beautiful, no doubt about it.
“Angie,” I say. “This… This was…”
Was what?
A mistake? I’m not sure if I can label it as such when every nerve ending in my body is still humming with the pleasure of our encounter.
How can I find the right words?
She shushes me, placing a finger on my lips. “Don’t,” she murmurs. “Don’t spoil it with words.”
What she says has merit. How amazing would it be to just revel in the gratification?
But we can’t ignore this either.
“No,” I say. “We need to talk about this.”
She sighs, slides off the counter, and walks over to me, her naked form illuminated by the harsh kitchen lighting.
Fuck.
Gorgeous.
Perfection.
She wraps her arms around my waist and buries her face in my chest, the warmth of her breath seeping through the thin fabric of my shirt.
“Can we not talk about it tonight?” she whispers, her voice heavy with an emotion I can’t quite place. “Just for tonight, can we pretend that there’s nothing wrong with this? That we’re not teacher and student, but just…us?”
I pull her closer and tangle my fingers in her silky hair. “All right.”
But just for tonight.
Still naked, she opens the door to a panting Tillie. Then she leads me out of the kitchen and to her bedroom. It’s decorated in a soft feminine style. On the wall are black-and-white posters of the Eiffel Tower in Paris, the Ponte Vecchio in Florence, and Big Ben in London. My stomach twists as I realize that these probably hung in her dorm room in undergrad. At least she’s bought frames for them.
I turn my attention from the posters to her bed, which is covered in light-yellow plush pillows and blankets. The sight of it, beckoning me over, almost makes me forget about the lines I just crossed.
Almost.
She slides into the bed first, her movements as graceful as a swan. Her eyes never leave mine as I strip off my shirt and toss it on a nearby chair.
“Jason.” She pats the empty spot beside her on the bed.
I walk over and sink onto the mattress, the soft fabric molding to my body as I remove the rest of the clothes I just put back on. Angie moves closer to me, tugging at me until I’m lying down next to her. She rests her head on my bare chest and snuggles into my side. I instinctively wrap my arm around her and pull her closer.
As I lie there next to her, breathing in the sweet scent of her hair, I can’t help but feel solace in her presence—her soft sighs and the faint rhythm of her heartbeat against my chest.
I don’t know how long we lie there, entwined in each other’s arms, but I know I could stay like this forever.
“Jason?” Angie’s soft voice breaks through the silence. “Thank you.”
Thank you?
For what?
For complicating our lives? For crossing a line that should never have been crossed?
But then I look at her face and see the sincerity shining clear in her eyes.
This isn’t about propriety or the rules we’ve broken tonight. It’s about us—two people who found solace, comfort, and an unexpected connection.
“I don’t regret anything,” she continues, her voice a whisper against my skin.
I want to echo her sentiments, tell her that I too harbor no regrets.
But something gnaws at me.
A fear.
A fear that I now yearn for Angie’s touch over Lindsay’s.
I feel like I’ve cheated on Lindsay.
But Lindsay is gone.
Dead and buried.
Unable to be helped by the practice that is Angie’s passion.
Fuck it all.
I finally desire another woman.
But she’s a student.
A future psychiatrist, of all fucking things.
Angie doesn’t seem to be concerned that I don’t answer, so I just hold her for the next hour, allow her to drift off into a peaceful slumber.
Once I’m sure she’s in a deep sleep, I untangle myself from her beautiful body and dress quietly. Tillie sits next to the bed, staring at me.
“Shh,” I say to the pup.
She doesn’t bark. She’s probably glad enough to be rid of me.
I leave and return to my own place.
Where guilt and nightmares plague me.
Chapter Nineteen
Angie
I wake up with a smile on my face.
My body feels satiated and wonderful.
Jason…
I move toward the center of the bed…
Disappointment overwhelms me.
He’s gone.
And he’s been gone for a while. The bed and covers aren’t warm at all.
It’s Saturday. No classes. So the only reason he would have left without saying goodbye is if…
No. There could be other reasons. He has a life outside of med school. Maybe he’s going for a consultation with the doctor who’s going to try to repair the nerves in his hand.
Or maybe he has to grade papers. Work on his curriculum.
Speaking of which, I have a lot of studying to do myself.
I can’t waste the day away mourning the fact that Jason left me.
He wanted to talk about what happened last night, no doubt to tell me it was a mistake.
I asked him not to spoil it with words.
So he didn’t. He let me lead him into my room, and he slid into bed with me, held me.
Then he left.
He left without saying goodbye.
I have to hand it to him—he didn’t use words.
Saturday means no teaching for him as well, and now that I think of it, probably no appointments with his doctors either.
Which means he’s most likely at home.
I could get up, shower, dress, and go pound on his door.
It’s tempting. So tempting.
But though I have no regrets, I know he does. I’m a student, and he no doubt feels like he crossed a line.
I sigh.
If only I could stay in bed all day and relive the passion between us.
It wasn’t sweet. It wasn’t gentle.
No.
It was raw and feral and animalistic.
And it was perfect.
I’ve never had sex like that. First of all, it’s always been in a bedroom, and second of all, it’s never had that rawness, that realness to it.
I never even imagined it could be like that. Never imagined an orgasm could be so intense and long-lasting.
And I want more of it.
But Jason left.
I have to face the fact that this isn’t what he wants.
I can’t blame him. He shouldn’t be sleeping with a student. He and I both know that.
So I lie in bed. I’ll give myself half an hour to relive the passion. To feel it again as I slide my hand between my legs.
The orgasm hits me, spreads through the veins in my body, out my fingers and toes and then plummets back to my pussy.
And it feels good.
But not as good as it felt last night with Jason.
His head between my legs, his tongue tantalizing me…
Nothing will come close to that.
Then how he filled me, his big hard dick inside me as he used my body for his own pleasure.
Oh, to be used that way again.
I check the digital clock on my nightside table. My half hour is up.
Tillie starts to whine at me. How do dogs always seem to know what time it is?
I slide out of bed and lean down to scratch her ears. I quickly put her out to do her business and then traipse to my bathroom and turn on the shower. As I stand under it, washing the earthy and masculine smell of Jason from my body, a profound sense of loss hits me.
I power through anyway.
Once I’m clean and dressed, my hair falling in damp waves around my shoulders, I brew a pot of coffee, scramble a few eggs, and then sit down in my living room with my iPad and textbooks.
I force myself to concentrate on the study of medicine. I can’t allow my mind to keep drifting back to Jason and our tryst in my kitchen.
But my God… It’s difficult.
The words on the textbooks blur on the page, and the diagrams become blurs as well.
I rise, pace around my coffee table, head back to the kitchen to refill my coffee.
That’s it.
I have to confront him. We have to talk about this. I have to know if it’s something more than a onetime thing.
I slide my feet into my boots, throw on my down jacket and muffler, and walk to my door, ready to go to Jason’s.
I open the door—
“Oh!” Tabitha stands there holding two cups from Starbucks. “Surprise!”
“Hey, what are you doing here?”
“Bringing you coffee.” She walks in without being invited.
“Okay.”
She wrinkles her forehead at me. “But you have your coat on. Were you on your way out?”
“Yeah, I was, but I’d rather have coffee with you.” I force a smile.
She grins. “Great, because I want to talk to you about something.”
Crap.
Has Ralph talked to her? Does she know about Jason’s and my kiss?
“You look all flushed,” she says, touching my cheek. “Are you feeling okay?”
“I’m fine.”
Then she touches my forehead. “I don’t know, Angie. You might have a slight fever.”
I can’t help a soft chuckle. It’s a medical student thing. After one semester, most medical students are convinced they can diagnose anything.
“I don’t have a fever, Tabitha. I’m fine.”
“If you say so.” She hands me a cup of the coffee she brought. “Black, no cream and sugar. I remember.”
I take it and click the paper cup to hers. “Cheers.”
She laughs and takes a sip of the—most likely triple mocha—in her cup.
Yeah, it is. She has a slight whipped-cream moustache that she licks off.
I gesture her over to the counter, where she takes a seat. “You hungry? I made some scrambled eggs earlier. I can make some more. Or I have some croissants. My cousin on the Western Slope made them. They’re the best you’ll ever eat.”
“Don’t mind if I do,” Tabitha says.
I walk to the fridge, but she’s right on my heels. Damn. She really does want to talk to me about something.
I grab a couple of Ava’s croissants out of the fridge, heat them for a few seconds in the microwave, and then grab some of my mom’s spiced peach jam.
“Here you go.” I put a croissant on a plate and hand it to her. “Have a seat.” I bring the jam over to the table and offer it to her. “My mom makes this stuff from our Western Slope peaches. It’s the bomb.”
Tabitha spreads some over her croissant and takes a bite. “Oh my God,” she says. “I think I just had a tiny orgasm.”
I laugh.
I’m beginning to really like Tabitha. She reminds me of Sage, my sister. So outgoing and always up for a good time.
“Glad you like it. I’ll let my mom know that her jam is orgasmic.”
She closes her eyes. “Not just the jam, but the croissant. You come from a talented family.”
She’s not wrong. I’ve always felt like I’m the one who has no talent. I’m not outgoing, not an artist like Gina, I can’t cook like my mom, bake like Ava, make wine like Dale and Uncle Ryan.
But what I can do is care. Have empathy. Which is why I decided to follow Aunt Melanie into psychiatry.
“So…” Tabitha begins.
Shit. Here it comes. She’s going to mention—
“What do you think of Ralph?” she asks.
I raise my eyebrows. Ralph? Okay. Not what I was expecting. She’s the one who said he was being a dick yesterday. Unless he told her what he saw…
“Honestly?” I ask.
She swallows a bite of croissant. “Well, yeah. I wouldn’t be asking you otherwise.”
Do I tell her the truth? That he came on to me in my kitchen and tried to kiss me? That when I rebuffed his advances, he threatened to go to the dean about the kiss I shared with Jason? Which would not only end his teaching career but would also make me a pariah among my peers?
Better to leave all that out.
I scratch my nose. “We talked about this, didn’t we? I think he’s kind of a dick.”
She wrinkles her forehead. “He did have that weird moment when we were all here for pizza. But… I don’t know. Something about him… I kind of like him, and… He’s hot.” She bites her lip. “Guess I’ve got a bit of a thing for older men.”
You and me both, sister.
That’s what I want to say. But I don’t know if I trust Tabitha enough to let her know about my ongoing romance—or whatever it is—with Jason.
So I just shrug. “He’s good-looking, yeah. I don’t know if I’d go so far as hot.”
She giggles. “Well, I stalked you online, of course. I saw your two brothers—one blond, one with brown hair. They put the heat in hot. Is everyone in your family good-looking?”
My cheeks warm. “I don’t know about that.” A lie, of course. My entire family is great-looking. Besides the fact that we’re rich, that’s the second thing people know about us.
“Lucky.” She narrows her eyes coyly. “Are your brothers available?”
“Dave is newly married.” I scratch my chin. “Henry’s not seeing anyone, though. But he’s a lot older.”
She waggles her eyebrows. “Like I said, I like older.” Her bright eyes deflate slightly. “But jeez, Angie, something about Ralph…”
I really don’t need her getting close to Ralph. One, because he’s a dick and Tabitha deserves better. And two, because if they get close, he might spill the beans about Jason and me.
So I’m going to push her gently in another direction.
“Why not Eli? He’s got his eye on you. You’d have to be blind not to see it.”
She purses her lips. “He’s sort of cute, in a Jeff Goldblum kind of way.” She rolls her eyes. “But he and I are just study buddies. Besides, he’s so devoted to school and surgery. I imagine he’s not going to date for the next ten years.”
“I don’t know,” I say. “I think you could convince him to give dating a try.”
She scoffs. “He’s like my brother, but Ralph… I was hoping you’d say he’s not a dick after all.”
I sigh. Do I out him? And if Tabitha is really interested in Ralph, I should probably tell her that he came on to me.
But I don’t want to hurt her.
She and I aren’t besties. Maybe we could be, but we haven’t known each other long enough or spent enough time together.
