What's Left of Me Ch. 05

Previously on What's Left of Me: After making plans for date night, Dafydd Williams and Emily Rossellini have had a long week. He's been productive, she's made new friends, and they're both unbearably horny. Will she deliver la grande mort like she's threatened?

Thanks to Penny Thompson for some invaluable story feedback, and to Emily Miller for an important pep talk.

In this chapter you can expect opportunity to knock at work, personal stories, emotional oral and MF sex.

And then, finally, it was Friday.

Sent at 5:09am by Dafydd W:

Good morning, sunshine.

I'm so fucking excited.

Sent at 5:15am by Emily R:

good morning!

me toooooo

dont be early today okay???

i need as much time as i can get

forgot to pack and stuff

Sent at 5:20am by Dafydd W:

Plus I think if we start making out in the car,

we're not going to make it to work. ????

Sent at 5:22am by Emily R:

lmao

i think ur right

dont wanna get fired for skipping work

Sent at 5:24am by Dafydd W:

That means no road head or anything, either.

Sent at 5:25am by Emily R:

first guy to EVER say that!!

Sent at 5:30am by Dafydd W:

First girl to be sad to hear it, too. ????

Sent at 5:32am by Emily R:

maaaaybe ????

**

"Hey."

"Hey," Emily said, tossing two backpacks into my backseat and climbing into the car. "So I was thinking."

"Always a good thing to do," I said. "Even this early in the morning."

"Shut up, you. I was thinking it'd be a shame to have to stop here to pick up my stuff and my car this afternoon. What are you doing tomorrow?"

"You, I hope," I said, then added limply, "I don't, uh, have any plans."

"Smooth," she said, smirking a little. "Very slick."

"Thanks. Even before seven I'm sometimes capable of genius."

"Ugh. Sometimes I wonder why I like you. Anyway, what if I just bring my stuff and we go straight from work to your place? I know you want me to be comfortable, but I trust you. And, like, I don't want to lose my good parking spot."

I had to laugh at that, as I pulled the car away from the curb. "Up to you, okay? Just let me know what you'd prefer. It's on the way so we wouldn't lose that much time. I'd drive you back here Saturday morning?"

"Sure," she said. "Or we kill some time and meet Angie and the girls in the afternoon."

"Did you hang out with them again last night? How was it?"

"Yep! It was great. Really great yoga class. I think you're going to like them – maybe not Sam. Or Nick. But Angie and Corey and Maya."

"Nick? Sam? Angie and Corey, you've mentioned – I thought it was just 'the girls?'"

"Sam, Samantha. Nick's her boyfriend. Angie doesn't like him. He can be a little much, I guess. He's there almost every night. And he's kind of, like... he thinks he's a player."

"Like another Dave?"

"Yeah. Well, no. Like Dave, but if Dave was broke, and older, and tall, dark, and handsome, with a bunch of tattoos, but still, like, the kind of guy who would say 'redpilled.'"

"Oh man," I said. "And this guy's part of the group?"

"Sort of," she shrugged. "He's around, I guess. I've seen him before but last night was the first time he hung around us."

"Well. I guess we'll burn that bridge when we get to it."

"Please don't," she laughed. "I want them to like you."

"Okay, okay," I said. "If we can get through today and tomorrow without horribly traumatizing each other, I'll come meet your friends. Is that okay?"

"Perfect. You think there's a chance of that? That we'll traumatize each other?"

"I don't know." I said. "I hope not." She nodded. "But we have to talk about what we want, and whether it's compatible. What our plans are, that kind of thing. That's what we were supposed to think about this week, remember?"

"Yeah," she said, wincing. "I kinda got caught up in the other stuff."

"Me too."

"Did you think about it at all?"

"Yeah," I said. "Some." I'd thought about it a lot, actually. I'd had to make myself stop; I'd been spinning my wheels, not wanting to confront the inevitable conclusion: if she left, if she went back to California, it'd break my heart. That we'd stay together if we got together, I had no doubt. She flitted from guy to girl and back, she'd said, but I thought what we might have would be different. And my history was falling and falling hard. But a long-distance relationship with no plan to reunite, no date to look forward to, wouldn't work. I couldn't handle it, even for her.

Could I let myself feel for her more than I already did, knowing how badly it might hurt? Probably not, but I couldn't give up what I had, either.

"Did you figure anything out?"

"Yes," I said, as seriously as I could. "That I really want to fuck you, and it's been driving me crazy all week."

"Me too," she said, then spoke quietly in her low voice, though we were alone in the car, and put her slim hand on my leg. "So. Anything in particular?"

"Well, I've looked at that picture from your bathroom probably a thousand times. And I think I remember you threatening me yesterday with an orgasm that might kill me?"

"You know," she snickered, "I think I remember that too. And you told me you'd tell me you loved me if I fucked you hard enough."

"No! No. No. I told you I'd say that about your sex drive."

"Same thing," she said, snicker now a full, mocking laugh. "You're so cute when you're flustered."

"It's not – oh, whatever. I remember you saying that to me, though."

She paused, considering. "I don't remember that. I think I'd remember something like that. You're probably making that up to get in my pants."

"I don't think I need to make things up to get in your pants," I said. "Not at this point."

"Are you calling me a slut?" she gasped, voice filled with fake outrage.

"Yep," I said casually, squeezing her slender thigh hard, high up where my fingers just brushed the outer edge of her groin. "My slut, tonight."

She squirmed in her seat. "Fuck. I need today to be over."

"Me fucking too," I said with feeling.

**

Somehow, we made it through the day. Unusually, Thom had assigned both of us to the low course under Gwen's supervision, and looking back, I don't remember much of what we did. Every time I looked at Emily I felt myself stir, remembering what she looked like naked, and the smell and taste of her, and when she looked at me I felt it on my skin like fire. When we met each other's eyes, I heard in my head her ragged breathing as she'd come on my tongue and her long slow groan as she'd come on her fingers in my car. In our long break after lunch, Kieran asked her to show the group some basic yoga flows, and Emily had led us through a series of poses, walking us through the proper techniques and correcting our mistakes. Apparently, I was very bad at them; she seemed to regularly find mistakes I was making in body positioning that required correction, and she could never seem to find the words to correct me without using her hands to reposition my butt, hips and core. And maybe my ineptitude was because each of her poses seemed to point her tight ass or small tight tits at me, and I couldn't think of anything but fucking her until she screamed out my name. At one point, as we were waiting for our next groups, Gabby gave her a little nudge and whispered something, and Emily, for the first time in our acquaintance, turned bright red. Whatever was going on, I suspected it had to do with me, or us.

Just before the last group of the day arrived, I pulled Emily aside.

"Hey," I whispered to her, "when we're done today, let's not hang around."

"Yeah, duh," she said back. "But let's not just run off, either. Gabby's already asking if we have –" she looked around a little surreptitiously "—plans of the physical sort. A little decorum, you know?"

"I know, I know. I just want to."

"Trust me," she said sympathetically. "I do too."

"I've never seen you blush before. What the heck did she say?"

She opened her mouth to answer, saw the horde of kids approaching, and changed her mind. It was probably for the best.

Afternoon debrief seemed to take forever. In the afternoon, one of the kids at the pond had bashed himself in the nose with a paddle, bloodying it; and Scott, Kieran and Ryan had all had to give their perspectives on what had happened, what steps they'd taken and why. Thom had gotten on all three of them for not calling to report it immediately, then taken the opportunity to use it as a learning experience for the summer staff, walking us through filling out incident reports. When he made his end-of-day call to the office, Ryan and Kieran had been called in to speak with Ruth, then Thom had called Gwen in for a private chat, all of which delayed us further. And when he was finally ready to wrap up, he asked Emily and I to stay behind. I was immediately nervous, and we exchanged somber glances as Gabby, Scott and Dave gave us sympathetic looks and filed out of the cabin with the rest of the staff, leaving us alone with Thom.

"Don't worry, you're not in trouble. You two," he said, "have been pretty good so far. Better than the others. Dafydd, I know you're hoping to do the apprentice program in the fall. I'm just going to tell you now, we don't make decisions on it this far out based on summer performance. But you're on the right track. And Emily, I think if you want to stay for the apprenticeship, you've got a good chance right now too." We looked at each other again, more happily this time, but I still felt a twinge of trepidation. Then he dropped two spiral-bound books on the table, each festooned with colorful sticky notes.

"Here's the deal, kids. We have an outside group coming in next week. Short notice. I need at least three staff members for them, preferably four. Arthur gets in tonight, so he'll be one of them. My wife Amber is going to come in as an extra pair of hands. But that still leaves me short. So. Here are your Bibles. Read the introduction until you understand it, then study the pages with the notes until your eyes bleed. Don't just memorize it, internalize it. Be here at 6:45 on Monday. Gwen and I going to test you on everything on those pages, then walk you through it on the course.

I swallowed, and I heard Emily take a deep breath. "Okay," I said. "We can do it."

"You'd better," he said. "Gwen vouched for you. Both of you. Don't let her down." Then he frowned, seemingly at himself more than us. "If you have doubts about it, talk to each other over the weekend, then call me. We have options, okay? If you don't think you can lead groups safely yet, we can pull one of the full-time people, or we can get Ruth to come out. It'll be tight for her on time." He smiled unexpectedly, full of sarcastic cheer. "And none of us want the owner here, right? But we're only doing this if both of you, and Gwen and I, are convinced you can do it safely."

"We'll get it done," said Emily. Her voice was strong and confident; whatever nerves she'd had were gone, or hidden far away.

"Good. I hope you're right. Two more things." I felt my nerves return. "First, I just said we don't make decisions on summer performance. We wouldn't normally have summer staff lead groups until at least the fourth week." Camp was broken into three sessions of three weeks each, so he meant the beginning of the second session. "And we wouldn't have you work without a full-time staff, period. But we're understaffed right now and things are tight. Give me what I need from you next week, and as long as you keep your noses clean the rest of the summer, you'll have earned your offer for the fall, and maybe we can arrange some work between the end of camp and the start of the apprenticeship. Understand?"

I nodded, and Emily said she did.

"Second," he said, sneering again, "I don't know if you two are dating. If you are, fine. I don't give a damn. Keep it work-appropriate and remember where you are. Don't make your teammates uncomfortable. Your relationship is not my business and you'd better not make it my business. Am I clear? And whatever was going on with you two today, get it worked out. I need both of you on your A-games next week. Do not let it affect your work. Got it? Now get out of here."

We grabbed our bags and escaped, hearing his voice float after us – "And no copies or photos! Of the book! It's all under copyright!"

She took my hand as we fled, and turned to me, eyes wide. "Holy shit," she said.

"Holy shit," I agreed. "I can't believe they're letting us work independently this soon. And what's this?" I asked, raising our hands. "I thought we were staying away from PDA on campus. And didn't Thom just give us a warning?"

"Who cares?" she said, shrugging. "He also said he didn't care, it was fine as long as we don't make people uncomfortable. It's not like it's against policy, and it's after work hours. Kieran and Thom both met their wives here, did you know that?" I hadn't. "And, come on. They all think we're dating, or at least fucking, already anyway. I was surprised they let us work together."

"It was a tryout, I guess. I think we make a good team."

"So do I. You did really good today. Gwen was impressed."

"Can I confess something? I couldn't focus at all. I barely remember anything that happened."

She laughed, tossing her head back. "Oh, believe me, I know. I couldn't either. I had to, like, lock in this afternoon."

"What did Gabby say to you after lunch? I've never seen you turn red like that before."

"Oh! Oh. Uh, she said that, after the week you and I have had, we must be doing something special tonight because she could smell my pussy from across the lawn."

I stopped in my tracks, staring at her. "She didn't."

Emily laughed again. "Oh, she did. She absolutely did. She's got a dirty brain, that girl."

"You think she has a dirty mind?"

"I do, and that's, like, practically an expert opinion. Come on, let's go." She tugged my hand, pulling me along after her. "We have plans, remember?"

"As if I could forget. God damn. I thought she was all sweetness and innocence."

"Well, you are very wrong. She's not that sweet, trust me. And besides, you can be sweet and innocent and still very dirty." She fluttered her eyelashes at me, as if offering herself as evidence of the case, and it was, I had to admit, compelling evidence. Still, I had to fight back a little.

"Yeah, okay. You're not that innocent."

"Yes I am! I've never, like, handcuffed or blindfolded someone, unlike the other person in this conversation."

She had me there, and I told her so, adding, "But you like the idea."

"Maybe. Maybe not. I'll never tell."

"Yes you will. Emily, do you like the idea of being cuffed and-or blindfolded during sex?"

She sighed theatrically. "When I said I'd never tell, I didn't realize you could just, like, ask me. That feels like cheating. Um. I mean, yeah, I think it'd be hot. Or maybe the other way? That could be fun too."

I cleared my throat, and she shot me an amused look. "Yeah. Maybe it could."

"Would you let me? Do you trust me enough?"

I thought about it for a second. I'd known her all of two weeks. We weren't dating, kind of; we hadn't had sex. But my instincts about people were good, usually, and she was a good person. She'd shown me some of her pain, and some of her heart. I was touched by the way she'd offered herself in friendship the first time we met, and the way she kept deepening, widening what our friendship encompassed. It was still friendship, but it wasn't only that anymore, if it ever really had been. I could see that in her eyes when she looked at me, the way they sparkled when she was happy and their tender-fierce smolder during passion, and the softness when she thought I wasn't looking.

She'd told me at the bar a week ago that she was running from her decisions, that she felt like she'd given up her future. She didn't feel that way anymore, I suspected. If she looked to the future, was I there? She wanted me to be. I want someone who wants me for who I am, not as a trophy, and I think that could be you. That's what she'd said, and that's what I wanted to be – if I could.

"Yes. Yeah, I would, and yeah I do."

She smiled wickedly. "Good. I trust you too. Don't get your hopes up though, buddy. Not gonna happen this weekend."

"Oh no," I said, my voice as full of sarcasm as I could make it. "Whatever will I do. Oh well. What about you? Do you think you'll survive?"

"I don't know," she said. "I'm pretty horny. Dangerously so. I might have some requests."

"I'll do my best to satisfy," I said, and she shook her head.

"Not this time. I need you to pinky-promise me. Whatever I say, we're just having sex tonight, okay?"

"If you insist," I said.

"I'm serious, Ducky. I like you a lot, okay? And I've been so turned on this week that I'm practically fucking feral. I don't think you'd ever hurt me, but..."

"But let's keep it vanilla," I agreed. "At least for our first time. OK. Pinky promise." We shook fingers.

"But later," she said, deep and sultry, a tone that brought to mind lace, velvet and leather, "later, maybe we can experiment a bit?"

With what, I wanted to ask, but as we approached the parking lot, Gwen stepped out of her car and waved us over. "Later," I promised Emily.

"Hey Gwen," Emily called out, dropping my hand. "What's up?"

"Thom give you th' news?" When Emily and I answered in the affirmative, she continued, "And did he say anythin else?"

"That he was considering extending offers for the fall," I said.

"Right, good," she said, nodding. "He don't often do that, but I think y' two deserve the chance. I've been here six years and, since me, it's only Kieran's wife Caitlin got an offer 'for mid-July."

"She's the one who's a yogi?" Emily asked.

"Right. They met here, in fact. They were apprentices together. Kieran came from up New York way. Caitlin was in the last summer camp Ruth ran herself, 'for she retired and moved to the office side full-time. That was five years ago now, or will be this fall. Which brings me to what I wanted t' talk to you about."

I asked what she meant.

"Saw y'all holdin hands on the way up. You're cute together, and you're smart and work hard. Don't let Thom scare you off tryin. Won't be a problem, so long as you're not stupid or annoyin about it. He met his wife here too. Amber. Guess you'll be meetin her next week."

I opened my mouth, but Emily spoke first. "Thanks for the advice, Gwen." She paused, then asked, "Were we that bad today?"

"You were givin each other looks all day and tryin not to let us see. Thom says to me this mornin after mornin brief, 'I hope those two fuck-bunnies can concentrate enough to do their jobs.' 'Course, he was smiling when he said it. But he's nervous as hell about lettin you take groups next week."

"Thank you for vouching for us," Emily said. "We won't embarrass you."

"He gave us the manuals," I said. "And told us to memorize everything. What in particular should we be focusing on?"

Gwen laughed without much humor. "Everythin. But especially the safety rules, okay?" She looked around, then lowered her voice conspiratorially, though there was no one nearby. "When we test you on Monday, count on Thom breaking as many rules as he can get away with. He's gonna want you to be assertive 'nough to stop him. And he ain't gonna let you pick and choose who does what. Both of y' need to be prepared for all of it."

"We'll be ready," Emily said firmly.

"Any significance to the sticky notes being different colors?" I asked. "And some pages having multiple notes?"

"Noticed that, did you?" Gwen chuckled. "Good. Helps bein observant. Th' orange ones are what you'll be doin Monday. Pink's Tuesday, yellow Wednesday. You don't know enough 'bout sequencing, so Thom and I picked for you. No reflection on you, though. We just don't teach it 'til fall. You're still ahead of the curve."

"Guess that means we shouldn't lose the stickies," Emily said.

"Guess not," Gwen replied. "Last thing then, and I'll let y' go enjoy your weekend. My advice, once you get to the cabin, keep it professional, under wraps. More than y' were today, okay? Y'all can hold hands if y' want. That kinda thing's okay, but don't ever do it in front of groups or customers. And Monday, I wouldn't even do that, after y' get outta the car. He's gonna be extra hard on you, worryin about the customers comin in and newbies takin groups without one of us there to supervise, and you two bein together is just gonna make him stress more. And one thing about Thom, he don't handle stress well. He gets mad, he spreads it around, and summer's when he's supposed to be mellow."

"We'll be good," I promised.

"What do you mean, he doesn't handle stress well?" Emily asked.

"Less said the better," said Gwen, "for now. By Wednesday afternoon either you'll know or I'll tell y', alright? However it goes next week, we three are gonna talk 'bout it after."

"Good enough for me," I said. "See you on Monday."

"Six forty-five," agreed Gwen. She was out of the parking lot before we'd gotten the car started.

"I can't believe we were so obvious today," said Emily, then chuckled. "Gabby, Thom, now Gwen – everyone must have been judging us."

"It's okay," I said, and despite my earlier case of nerves I thought it was. "Look. We messed up a bit. It won't happen again, not like that. They're still letting us work together. They're giving us, together, more responsibility than anyone else like us gets. That's pretty awesome. Thom's in charge. You heard him, he has other options. He wouldn't do this if he didn't trust us not to fuck it up."

"True," she said. "I can't believe he called us fuck-bunnies when we haven't even once. The audacity of that bitch."

"Think it's time we changed that?"

"Yes I do. Ducky? Dear buddy, best friend? You know how you normally drive the speed limit? Can you go a little faster this time, please?"

**

I did. I didn't drive as fast as she usually did, but I was just as eager to get home. We drove straight on past her place and by the time we were off the highway she was squirming in her seat with more than impatience. I wasn't much better off.

We'd talked about work for a few minutes, then sex. We'd talked before about our sex lives, but that was before; now every story we shared or fantasy we confessed felt like a plan coming into being. Our dreams and experiences became part of a conspiracy, Emily and I against the world. There was lust in the air, and it was so thick I felt almost underwater. I could feel it dragging against me as I moved, clogging my lungs when I breathed. Those other emotions were still there; the affection, the liking – what a wholly inadequate word – and desire, desire beyond the physical. She hadn't looked away from me once as the scenery rolled by, and I could smell the sweet spice of her arousal. She touched herself lightly, gently, reminding me coyly that being horny made her horny.

"I thought you couldn't edge yourself," I said in a voice rough with desire.

"I'm not getting that close," she said, voice thick. "but I want to. How much longer?"

"Not long. Ten minutes, fifteen."

It took twelve. I parked the car haphazardly in the gravel patch at the end of the long dirt driveway. I grabbed my keys and left everything else. The only thought in my head was getting the damn door open and finding a surface.

Emily came flying around the back of the car and leapt at me, a full tackle. She hit lips-first, wrapping her arms around my neck and her legs around my waist, and kissed me hard. Her mouth was open and her tongue touched mine as I wrapped my arm her. Keys, I thought, I have the keys. Front door.

Getting her there wasn't the problem. It wasn't far and she was more than light enough to carry. Managing carrying her and kissing her and opening the door – that was the trick.

"Em," I muttered into her mouth, and she mumbled wordlessly into mine. "Em. You gotta stop trying to pull my shirt off. Need to get the door open."

"Fine," she said, moving her mouth to my neck. "Hurry up."

When the door opened, I didn't bother closing it or pulling the keys from the knob. There's no one around for more than a mile, and I don't often run the air conditioning. I was busy kissing her again, and by memory and feel I navigated through the small front foyer, then left into the main room. I laid her on the couch, bathed in the sun from the big windows on all three walls. As I straightened to strip off my shirt, I said, "No stripteases this time."

"No," she said, and tugged off her own top and kicked off her shoes. Her nipples were standing hard against her soft breasts. As she tugged at her pants, she said, "Get naked, and get back down here. Fuck, hurry up!"

I tossed my shirt somewhere and kicked my pants and boxers in the other direction. It saved a fraction of a second and that's what was important. When her leggings reached her ankles, I grabbed them and pulled them off, throwing them vaguely towards my shirt. She spread her legs invitingly, one leg thrown up against the back of the couch, and I pounced on her. My hard length rubbed against her wet folds as I kissed her as deeply as I've ever kissed a woman, and she wrapped her arms and legs hard around me, one hand on my back, the other clutching the hair at the back of my head. I tried to draw away, but she wouldn't let me, growling into my mouth as I tried to free my cock, trapped between our bodies. I grabbed her thigh and clutched it hard, fingers digging into her soft skin and firm muscle, and shoved. As I mauled her mouth with my lips and tongue, she opened like a flower, legs spreading open. I took my cock in hand and rubbed its swollen head between her labia, where they curled inward to hide her clit.

"Ffffmmmkkk!" she hummed something against my mouth. When I pulled away, a little strand of saliva stretched between us, breaking when she thrashed her head. "Fuck! Stop fucking teasing and fucking fuck me already!"

She was wet, so wet, and hot against my head, and when I thrust inside her I felt like the smith at the furnace must feel: this heat would consume, or it would create, there could be no in-between.

"Yesss," she hissed, until I clamped my mouth back on hers, and she bit me for my troubles. Her legs closed around me as I pushed forward slowly, gauging her depth. Christ, but she was tight, and when my hips ground against hers she moaned. Slowly, I withdrew, testing again, and she protested wordlessly until I slapped her flank gently.

"Do that again," she begged. "Please, again."

But I didn't. As she clutched my hair and kissed my mouth and neck and face and dug her nails into my skin and clamped her legs into my sides and drummed her heels against my back, I fucked her. I fucked her hard and fast. I was caught in the moment, any thoughts of craft or technique swept away. I drove into her savagely, hips and balls slapping into her, and whenever she could she cried out encouragement, and I growled mine as I kissed her and traced the lines of her neck and the limits of her ear with my tongue. My hand was on the back of her head; I felt her nails leave my skin as she reached back, twined her fingers with mine and grabbed a fistful of her own hair. I squeezed, and pulled hard, and felt her arching her back under me.

"Oh, fuck, harder, please, baby, please pull my hair – harder – I –"

Then she was trembling under me, thighs quivering like the leaves on the trees in the first winds from the storm. Her cunt clenched on my cock. It felt like fucking a closed fist. If she'd been any tighter, I wouldn't have been able to move.

But I could, and I did, fucking her through her orgasm, watching her mouth move voicelessly and the fire in her brown eyes bank itself, changing from flame to ember.

"You good?" I grunted at her.

"Yeah," she said breathlessly. "More. Baby, please, I need mooooore," and she ignited again.

I gave her more. I gave her everything I could, and she helped me find more than I thought I had. She'd gotten the rhythm, and when I withdrew she gave me space, and when I slammed myself forward she pulled me in with her legs, forcing my cock into her as hard and as deep as we, we together, could make it go. My breathing sounded harsh and labored in my ears. She watched my face, and I lost myself in her deep brown eyes.

"Christ, Em," I ground out, finding space for the words around my breaths and thrusts. "So good. You're so hot."

She babbled at me, a string of obscene requests to choke her, to put a finger in her ass, to hold her down and slap her ass raw. I didn't do any of it, but I wanted to. Oh, how I wanted to.

"Hey," I growled at her. "None of that this time."

"Ah! Yes – yes sir," she gasped, and closed her legs tighter around me and pulled me deeper into her, and begged with her eyes.

"Em, I'm – I'm close. Where?" I didn't care where I came. She had an IUD, I thought, and it didn't matter. In, on, anywhere, everywhere, whatever.

"In me, please baby, cum in me, cum with me," she wailed.

"Are – you – close?" I couldn't speak normally, because I was. I was very close.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm so – oh uuhhh!" Her eyes fluttered and closed as she gasped, a quick, sharp inhalation, and she let it out in deep, shaky breaths as her body shook and her hips rocked and bucked beneath me. I couldn't take any more, and I buried my face in her neck and my cock in her cunt as I came.

We lay quietly for a moment or two. Her legs were still around me, and I was still hard inside her, but the need, the animalistic drive, was gone. In its place was something tender and almost graceful. I stroked her face, and we brushed hair out of each other's eyes, laughing softly at nothing.

Finally, I said, "That was something else."

"Yeah, it was."

"You know your mouth is going to get you into trouble."

"Uh-huh!"

"I think... I..."

"What?"

I shook my head and kissed her on the tip of her nose. "No, nothing. It's nothing."

"Yeah," she said, looking at me with those warm wide eyes. "Me too. That was the best sex I've ever had. You?"

"Maybe," I said. "Maybe."

"And you know what? The next time's going to be better."

It would, I agreed, and we lay together for another moment or two as I softened and slipped out of her. She pouted, then stretched under me. "I hate to move but... where's your bathroom? We should probably, like, clean up."

"We should. Let's get up." We did, but not until I'd kissed her again. "There's a bathroom down there," I said, pointing. "On the right. Towels are clean. I'm gonna go get our stuff." I didn't bother to dress, just pulled off the sock that'd survived my hasty disrobing and slid into some flip-flops. The door, of course, was already open, and I retrieved the keys on the way.

It took two trips to retrieve the bags and bottles and phones we'd left in the car. I heard the shower running when I stepped back inside, shutting the door this time.

"You gonna join me?"

I looked down at myself and winced. "Yeah! Yeah. Just one second."

Fortunately, there was a second bathroom I could attend to some postcoital business in before joining her in the shower. We weren't ready for that yet.

"Finally," she said as I stepped into the shower.

"Sorry. Didn't mean to keep you waiting."

"Just don't let it happen again," she said. "Remind me to bring stuff for your shower next time, okay?"

"What do you mean? Look, there's soap, and there's shampoo and conditioner," I said, pointing.

"You're such a guy. Didn't you live with a girl? For, like, a couple years?"

"Yeah," I said. "How do you think I learned about conditioner?"

She looked at me from under the warm spray. "I can't tell if you're serious."

"I'm not. Don't worry, I'll remind you. But this isn't the shower I usually use."

"Oh? Does the other one have an exfoliating body scrub I can use?"

"It does not," I said, laughing. "It has an exfoliating glove, soap, and the cheapest two-in-one I could find. Now move, I gotta rinse this off."

"Fine," she said, and squeezed past me. "Oops! I seem to have touched your penis with my butt!"

"Later," I said, and slapped her firm ass lightly. She yelped and moved away. "Hand me the soap?"

**

"We should start on dinner," I said. We were sprawled out on the couch in our laziest clothes. She'd wrapped her hair in a towel and reclined with her head in my lap; my hand rested on her chest right under her breasts and the hard nipples tenting her tank top. "Don't those things ever go down?"

She stretched like a cat and purred to match. "No, not really. I had to put pasties over them on shoots, sometimes."

"Wait, really? I thought that would, you know, sell the image. Sex sells, right?"

She laughed, nuzzling her head deeper into my lap. "Not every swim designer wants that image, Ducky. Nipples are in now, but they weren't always. The ones selling, like, 'look at me, I'm so daring, I'm so risqué' – they do. One shoot, they had the girls putting ice on their nips to get them up. I never have that problem."

"And the other ones don't?"

"I mean, it wasn't, like, a problem usually. But the luxury brands are selling, you know, luxury. Sexy and wealthy and comfortable. It's not just about attracting a man, it's about attracting the right kind of man, the kind who vacations in, like, Dubai or the Seychelles or Corfu."

"The last time I went on vacation was to Chincoteague Island."

"I don't even know where that is."

"Atlantic coast of Virginia. That's where I got the scars on my hand, actually. There's wild ponies there. It's nice."

"Oh yeah? Nicer than Lake Como?"

"Fewer Italians, anyway."

"Hey!" She scowled at me. "I'm Italian, you jerk."

"I know," I said. "Just one of you is too much for me."

"It's okay. I'm the best one," she said smugly. "So what's for dinner?"

"You like mushrooms? I bought stuff for a mushroom bourguignon, but I could make spaghetti instead," I said, then added quickly, "That's not an Italian joke. My spaghetti's actually pretty good."

"That's fancy. I've never had mushroom bourguignon. But can you make spaghetti for me sometime? My dad makes it with Bolognese sauce a lot and... it's pretty terrible. Don't tell him I said that."

"I'll take it to my grave," I said. "Mind getting off me?"

"Okay, if you insist," she said, snickering a little. I wondered why, until she sat up and grabbed my cock through my shorts.

"Get off me," I said, rolling me eyes. "Not get me off. You want dinner or not?"

"You sure you don't have something I could snack on right now?" She accompanied her emphasis with a suggestive wink.

"Not if you want me to make sure you're full later," I replied with a wink of my own.

She shuddered theatrically. "Don't... don't do that. You're not a winking kind of guy. Okay. I'm cooled off. Let's go cook. How I can I help?"

"We need classic rock," I said. "You wanna be the DJ?"

The first time we'd been together, we'd prepared for bed like an old married couple, used to each other's habits and quirks, despite having known each other for all of five days. We were the same way in the kitchen. We were always in easy touching distance, and often did. We kissed and we danced and sang with each other, and none of it affected preparation of the meal. She chopped and sliced and diced, and I cooked and stirred and spiced, and prepared couscous, the absorbent North African grain I preferred over egg noodles or polenta. She was a nearly-ideal partner in the kitchen. It would have been a perfect seamless fit if she'd liked Fleetwood Mac and The Band a little more and The Bangles and Shania Twain a little less.

Ah well, I thought. I'll bring her around, if there's time.

When the bourguignon was simmering nicely, we poured glasses of wine; we'd needed it for the sauce, and there was no point in saving what was left. Then we sat and talked about the kinds of things people talk about when there's nothing important to say. Favorite books, movies we'd loved and shows we hadn't, the short stories she was reading and the biography I'd just finished. The sauce simmered gently in the background as we chatted, and it felt like no time at all before we'd poured the last of the wine and plated the food.

"Ohmigod," she said. "This is really good. Why do you know how to cook?"

"I don't know," I said. "Same reason I can do laundry and pay my own bills and do my own taxes, I guess. I've been living alone for a while."

"This is your parents' house, right? What's the deal with that, can I ask?"

I sighed and took a bite, trying to organize my thoughts. "It's a long story."

"It's okay. We have time, unless you don't want to tell me."

"No, it's fine. Just let me know if you're bored." I took another bite, then leaned back a little from the small table. "Um. I graduated two years ago, and I wasn't in a great place when I did."

"Just broke up with your girlfriend, right? Whatever her name was?" Her face was sympathetic.

"Yeah, her. Olivia. We met during freshman orientation. We started dating middle of our first semester and moved in together as juniors. We were both in the Classics department, both planned to go to grad school."

"I remember your stories at the bar," she said, chuckling a little. "Sounded like you two had some wild sex. What was she like?"

"We did," I said, and smiled, remembering some of it. "She was short, curvy, sarcastic. She had a pretty, I don't know, acidic sense of humor. Could turn nasty sometimes. And she was really smart. She was a better student than I was, for sure. She knew she wanted her doctorate, and when I decided not to go to grad school things got, well. They got pretty bad."

"How bad? You don't have to tell me if you don't want, but I'd like to know."

"It's okay. She'd gotten this internship. Really prestigious, working at an archaeological site in Corinth. Only three people from UVA went. It was for the summer after we graduated, so we stayed on campus late. The night I drove her to the airport, she told me she was done with me, I had no ambition, I was holding her back. I probably said some nasty shit back, I don't remember. One of the other guys messaged me from the plane to say Liv was hooking up with the third guy. That was the last time I saw her. Or even talked to her."

"Fucking bitch," Emily said, voice hard. "That is fucked up. I'm sorry, you don't hook up with a guy for the first time on a plane. Dafydd. I am so sorry that happened."

"Water under the bridge now," I said, trying and failing to smile. "I went home without much of an idea about what I was going to do next, I guess. Found a job through a connection – my mom, actually. One of her business partners. Easy work, the kind of thing I could do from home. Part-time, but on my own schedule. Then I started that gig with the engineers, so I was working basically full-time and making decent money, and I guess it seemed like I was doing okay for myself."

"But?"

"Did I ever tell you I have a brother?"

"No, never. Older or younger?"

"Younger," I said. "We're sort of Irish twins."

"Irish twins? What's that mean?"

"We were born less than a year apart," I said. "I turned 24 in March. He'll turn 24 in September." I sighed. "I'm adopted. My folks wanted kids, and it wasn't happening, you know? I was a hospital adoption. Except the funny thing is..."

"Don't tell me they were pregnant!"

"They were pregnant, yeah. And it didn't matter much growing up. John is a great brother. I was more like my mom and he was more like my dad, but kind of a knucklehead sometimes. But we stuck together, you know? And mom and dad's business was doing well. They bought a vacation house in Colorado, near Pike's Peak, and we both liked being out there, but John loved it. He went to school out there, then to police academy, met a girl along the way. Got her pregnant."

"No!"

"With twins." I rubbed my eyes. "She's an occupational therapist in Colorado Springs. Anyway, our parents decided, you know, 'look, Dafydd is doing fine, he's always been the responsible one, let's move to Colorado permanently so we can be there for John and the grandkids.' So they did. They left me a credit card for home emergencies and fly me out for Thanksgiving and Christmas. That was a year and a half ago. It was either learn to cook or eat frozen shit and instant ramen for the rest of my life."

She reached across the table and took my hand. "Ducky, that sucks. I'm so sorry."

"Ah, I'm not as bitter about it as I sound. At first, I liked the space, you know? And I think it's helped me grow up. Been a lonely way to live, though. That's why I ended up at Reach Out, honestly. I needed to get out of the house, talk to real people. But thank you."

"So they just moved out? Just like that?"

"Just like that. They're never coming back. Mom was born in the middle of nowhere in Kansas, and she'll never get enough of the mountains. Eventually they'll sell the house."

"What will you do when they do?"

"I don't know," I said, and shrugged. "I haven't really thought about it."

"Look on the bright side," she said. "At least you don't have to live with your parents."

"You're right," I said. "That is a bright side. Anyway. That's why I can cook. It started because I needed to eat, then I realized it was therapy, and now it's fun." I smiled at her, and added, "especially with the right partner."

She smiled back, bright and brilliant. "Mmm-hmm. Teach me?"

"To make this? Sure."

"All your recipes, if they're this good."

"They're not, trust me. And I can't bake at all."

"Good thing I can, then," she said. "It's the only thing I can do."

"We should open a restaurant."

"Good idea. What should we call it?" We bickered about names and themes and menus as we finished eating and washed up. Somehow, we settled on il Caffè Fuck-Up, where we'd only serve her daddy's rubbery spaghetti accompanied by my horribly flat attempts at bread.

"Wait, I have to be the book-keeper, and I have to be the baker? What are you doing here?" I asked, as we sat on the porch, looking at the sunset. Or, at least, glancing at the sunset. Mostly I was looking at her, and she was looking at me from a seat on my lap.

"I'm the owner," she said triumphantly. "That's how it's done in my family. And I guess I'm making the spaghetti, but mostly I'm the owner."

"Is your family like mine? Mom's the main earner?"

"I guess so, yeah. My parents own a car dealership. I mean, it's mostly mom's. She started in sales, then worked her way up. Daddy's an accountant."

"That's why I have to keep the books for the fuck-up café?"

"That's why you have to keep the books for the fuck-up café. Plus, you do your own taxes and I don't."

"Aw, man," I said. "I hate doing taxes. This is the worst combination of family traditions ever. My mom has a consulting business, and my dad is the CFO."

"Really?"

"Really. I mean, technically he is. It's a small business. He doesn't have, like, an accounting degree or anything. He mostly does the books because mom's too busy."

"What a weird coincidence," she said.

"Yeah, seriously. They own a dealership? Is that why you drive a coupe with a manual?"

She giggled, leaning her head on my shoulder for a moment. Her weight was pleasant and warm, and the light from the setting sun on her face brought out dark reds in her black hair and warm chocolates in her deep brown eyes. When she raised her head, I kissed her, gently, and we leaned our foreheads together for a long moment. Then she giggled again.

"Sorry! I'm just thinking about the car."

"It sounds like there's a story there," I prompted her.

"Yep! So – I think I told you – I have six brothers and sisters."

"Yeah. Younger sister, younger twin brothers. There's a sister, I think, in New York, maybe? And an older brother and a sister somewhere near L. A.?"

"Yep, right. So my older brother Adrian –"

"The one who used to be an altar boy?"

"Mhmm, the one who used to be an altar boy and is still a bully. Anyway, he followed in daddy's footsteps, like he was supposed to. He's an accountant too. He got married a couple years ago, and they have a beautiful daughter named Hanna. She's two. Adrian got this big promotion, and, like, he celebrated by buying a sportscar from my parents."

"Interesting choice," I said, "with a wife and daughter. Don't they mostly have two seats?"

"You're getting ahead of the story! So he buys this car, and So-yi – that's his wife – absolutely hits the roof. He's wasting money, it's selfish, their house doesn't have room for three cars and oh yeah she's pregnant again, so they're going to have two kids in car seats. And then he really screws up."

"Oh God. What happened?"

"Well," she said, shifting on my lap, "he convinces her that it's fine, they can make a third car work, and he's always wanted a sportscar, he used to dream about this one, he had posters on his wall as a kid – which is a lie, by the way. Then he gets three speeding tickets in a month."

"Oh. Oops."

"Yep, oops is right. So she flips out again, and this time mom and dad are on her side, which never happens because as far as my parents are concerned Adrian is, like, never wrong. But I guess with grandbabies involved..."

"Yeah."

"So So-yi makes him sell the car back, and there's some accounting magic my dad does so he can buy it and, I dunno, write it off on their taxes or something. When I was a junior, they helped me buy it. Just a little act of sisterly revenge, you know? I think they wanted it to be, like, a carrot. Like, look, we can give you this nice car, you'll never get that as a teacher."

I didn't really know what to say to that, and made a meaningless noise of consolation.

"I think they're really disappointed that Nicole, Adrian, Izzy and I aren't interested in going into the family business," she continued. "Fortunately, Meaghan's studying marketing and sales, so she's getting the brunt of it now. She's my younger sister. And the twins, Dario and Elio – they might be interested too. At least, dad thinks so. They're interning in the shop this summer."

"I guess it means a lot to them," I said.

"Maybe," she said. "Who cares?" She turned, settling her side against my chest and dangling her legs over the arm of the oversized wicker chair we shared. "I love them, but I haven't done anything since high school they've approved of. Modeling was okay when they thought it was going to be coats and handbags, but bikinis?"

"Didn't like their baby girl doing that?"

"No. Not at all. They let me do it, but they never supported it."

"Is that why... you didn't tell them about what happened?"

She nodded. "That's what my therapist thought. And I think she's probably right. It sucked to live through. Having my parents tell me, like, 'we told you so' would make it worse. But it wasn't just that. Bringing a boy or two home, fine. Bringing a girl home? Not okay. They're not, like, homophobic," she added quickly. "They just didn't, like, think one of their kids would be gay or bi or whatever. They were busy focusing on Adrian and the twins, then they looked up and I was dating girls. It was a shock, I guess."

"I'm... I'm really sorry, Em. Jesus. That must have been hard."

"For a little bit, yeah," she said, nodding again, then leaning her head against me. "Don't get me wrong. I love them. But I needed to get away for a while."

"Like –" I wracked my brain "—Izzy? She's the one who moved to Alaska, right?"

"Yep, kinda. But she's a lawyer. That's, like, a respectable white-collar profession. And she mostly does financial stuff, so she and dad can connect on that. I was going to be a teacher."

"What's wrong with that?"

"Both of them grew up kinda poor. Mom was raised by her dad. They both had to work their way through college. The idea that, like, one of their kids would make less money than they do is, like, treason or something. Doesn't matter how important the job is. I could be a firefighter and they'd say, 'but honey, are you really looking after your future?' Fuck," she said, and laughed bitterly. "We had a fight once, when I told them I was done modeling –"

"I thought they didn't like you doing that."

"They didn't! But when I told them I was finished, mom said I was throwing away my only chance to get a man who could earn the money I wouldn't."

"You're fucking kidding," I said, but I knew she wasn't. Who'd joke about that? And it reminded me of my own mother, telling me that it was okay to play for one summer, but I'd better have something better by the fall. Or there'll be hell to pay, had been the unspoken addition.

"She did." Emily sat up and turned to face me, wrapping an arm around my neck. Her eyes were dark and sad, and she was pale underneath her tan. "It's been a pretty shitty year, honestly, until the last couple weeks."

"I bet they weren't happy about you coming out here."

She laughed once, a single bark, hollow and without humor. "That's an understatement. They're helping me out a little with rent because, you know, the paycheck is, like, nothing. But they didn't want me to waste time on a play-job."

"That's what my mom called it."

"Then you know. They didn't want me to come out here, and they don't want me to stay any longer than I have to. That's why I can't, like, commit to staying this fall, Ducky. If they had their way, I'd quit and come home now." Her voice changed as she spoke, becoming deeper, stiff and pompous. "So they might just say, well, if you can't pay your bills on your own, it's time for this little adventure to end. You quit modeling, you got a useless degree you're not using, time to come home to the family business and learn to sell cars." Her voice reverted to her usual melodic alto. "And even if they keep helping out through the fall, they're not going to if I have to, like, work at McDonalds or a gas station or something over the winter when things shut down. They already think I'm a disappointment. But you know what?"

"What?"

"It's worth it. All the shit they gave me about moving out here. Because I met you." She leaned forward and kissed me, and our tongues touched softly, only the tips. I wrapped my arms around her, pulling her to me, and she put her hand on my cheek, stroking it lightly. She sniffed. "I like you a lot, okay? I – I want you to be my boy and I want to be your girl, even if it's just for the summer. You're my missing piece. You're the first guy I've ever – I've ever –" and she buried her head in my chest again.

The warm summer breeze rolled over us, and I felt her body in my arms, strong and fragile simultaneously.

"It can't just be for the summer," I said quietly. "It can't, Em." She jerked back, looking at me hard, eyes almost black with shock, and bright with unshed tears. "No, no, please – listen to me, okay? Remember the other day, I said you were my dream girl?" She nodded. "I just... You're my best friend. I never get tired of spending time with you."

"Me neither," she murmured.

"And when you said we were going to be benefit-buddies or whatever, I was happy to go along with that. I can be that for you. I want to be both of those things, best friend and fuckbuddy both. But what I want, what I've wanted since I met you, is to be your boyfriend and your partner, and for you to be mine. And, I don't know, I feel like we almost are that, already. We're just not being honest about it. We're hiding behind those cutesy labels like 'benefits-buddy.'"

She started to smile, until I continued. "But. I need that fiction, Emily. I like you, very much. So much. But if I start thinking about you like that, like a partner or a girlfriend, and you go back to Los Angeles in August, it'll break my heart. I can't handle that again, Em. I can't."

She leaned against me again, and I put my arms around her, gently, lightly. I didn't want to make claims on her presence after what I'd said. I felt lucky she hadn't gotten up.

Finally, she stirred. "What if I didn't go back to California?"

"What?" I said, shocked.

"What if I don't go back to California?" she asked, looking at me intently. "What if I told you, right now, I'm in, I'll do the apprenticeship in the fall and I'll be back in the spring?"

"Then, then, I... I'd tell you what I just said. I like you so much, I'm attracted to you physically and mentally and emotionally, and whatever I could do to support you so this could work for you, and hopefully for us, I would, because I want to be with you."

"But only if I stay."

"No. Yes. I don't know, Em. It doesn't change how I feel. And I will do anything I can for you, if it'll help you stay. I'm just... I'm afraid, I guess. Of getting hurt again."

"And you think I'm not?" Her eyes blazed, like coals fanned into flame. "I've dated a lot of guys, Dafydd, and a lot of girls. I haven't felt about any of them the way I do you. I don't want this to end. But if it has to, I'll take the hurt, okay? And the heartbreak, if that's how it ends, as long as we get to have something worth breaking our hearts over."

I was about to interrupt, but she didn't let me. "Let me talk, okay? Hear me out. Do you remember what you told me, the first time we met? About what you wanted to do with your life? You were going to be a professor. But you examined the job market. You made a rational choice to walk away. Did that make you happier?"

"No," I said sadly. "It didn't."

"Would being rejected have been worse?"

"I... don't know," I said.

"Yes you do, Dafydd. You're not being honest with yourself." She gazed at me intently. The remnants of a beautiful sunset stretched out on the horizon behind her, but I couldn't look away from her eyes, and her thin beautiful lips set with determination. "The worst thing that would have happened is what did happen. Come on. You told me about Olivia, remember? You think walking away from that goal, that dream, is why she walked away from you."

At that, I blinked, hard, as a few tears stung my eyes. I hadn't thought about it like that before. I hadn't consciously connected those dots. I thought I'd been making the smart choice. I'd thought Liv would understand that, and she hadn't. Her plans had been upset, and she'd been upset in turn. But that it was because I'd walked away from a dream – that I hadn't considered.

"Hey." Emily's hands were back on my face, and she stroked my hair. "That's only part of it, okay? It's not your fault, what happened. She made choices too, shitty awful ones, and she would have made them no matter what you did. It's not your fault. But, Dafydd, you tried not to get hurt, and that meant you got hurt worse. You understand? Once you gave up, there was no good outcome left."

"What's that got to do with us?" I asked, voice harsh.

"You're doing it again. You're making the same mistake. You think, if you hold back now, you won't feel the pain later. But, Ducky, you will. It's not going to change what you want, or how you feel when you don't get it."

All those months I'd spent wallowing, throwing myself into work and running, learning to cook and care for the house – I'd managed to bury the pain, or move past it, maybe. But I hadn't learned anything from it, from why it happened, from what I'd done, the decisions I'd made – and the risks I'd taken by trying not to take any. And in five minutes, this glorious woman had taught me more about the last two years of my life than I'd ever have understood on my own.

"Fuck. You're... you're right."

"I usually am. You're going to have to get used to it. I'll make a deal with you, okay?"

"Anything."

"That's what I like to hear." She smiled again, briefly, tentatively. "Do you think we'd be good together?"

I laughed, a little shakily, and slapped a hand across my face, scrubbing at my eyes, wiping away the little tears. "Yeah. Yeah, I do."

"Then let's find out. If it hurts at the end, it'll have been worth the heartache. Take a chance on us, Ducky. I don't know what it's like to – to feel about someone the way I feel about you, okay? Show me what that's like, and I promise, I'll try my best to stay, and if I have to leave I'll try my best to come back."

"Okay." I took a deep breath, in and out. Then another. "Okay. I will. I accept, I promise."

Her smile broke like the dawn, shining out from her face like the sun's first rays heralding a new day. That's what it was for me – a fresh start, a new opportunity, and I'd almost given it up.

"I'm such an idiot," I said.

"You are, stupid boy. But I like you anyway," she said, and kissed me. "Now, boyfriend. You said we could make love under the stars. Was that true?"

"It was, girlfriend. Once they come out."

"I think we can find something to do while we wait, don't you? Don't get up." She slid off my lap, nudging my knees apart and kneeling before me, and opened my shorts. "I wonder if this'll be different now that we're, like, official."

You know what? It is different, I thought to myself, as she took me into her mouth. The first time she'd given me a blowjob, she'd been fast and aggressive, with a total focus on milking me into her mouth. This time, she was slow, languid, almost worshipful. Her tongue slid across my shaft and flicked at my head gently, and I moved slowly in her mouth. Her hand stroked me slowly, so slowly. The nails of her other hand scraped softly on my thigh.

One thing stayed the same, though. She never broke eye contact with me, and as the light faded I could see in her eyes passion, lust and that emotion we foolishly call "liking," when we're afraid to say what it is.

I hummed with pleasure, quietly. "Em, this feels so good. You don't have to –"

She pulled my cock out of her mouth, working her hand up and down the shaft, lubricated by her mouth. "I want to, stupid boy. For my boyfriend, who's trusting me with his heart."

"Have I ever told you you're beautiful?"

"Maybe," she said, cheeks dimpling cutely as she smiled. "Can't remember."

"You're beautiful. Do you remember last week?"

"When we did –" she popped my cock back into her mouth, fastened her lips tight and bobbed her head, fast, one-two-three-four strokes, taking me deeper in than she ever had before, then released me again "—that?"

"Yeah," I said. "When we did that."

"Mmm," she said, "might ring a bell."

"Well. If you think back, you might remember that I came in your mouth. And, ahhh..." She'd chosen that moment to start running her tongue along the length of my shaft, licking from the base to the tip, taking her time with each one. "And I came so hard I fell over."

"Mhmm! You like when I give you head?" She returned her mouth to my tip, teasing the frenulum, the slit in the tip, swirling her tongue around the swollen head.

"Yeah... yeah I do. Of course. But that's not what got me off."

She made a questioning noise; her mouth was still occupied.

"It was your eyes, Em. God, they're beautiful. They're so deep and warm. When you're happy, they sparkle. It's like seeing sun on the water. When you're turned on, your eyes practically glow, like they're on fire. And, like, everything you're doing now is amazing. This feels amazing but seeing that fire is a big part of why."

She bobbed her head once, then pulled away. "That is the sweetest thing anyone's ever said to me," she said, then added, "during a blowjob."

"Maybe not the sweetest setting," I admitted, "but still. Come on, get up."

"Aww, why?"

"Because we need to get a blanket. And because I want to go down on you, and if you keep doing what you're doing I'm going to cum again."

"That a problem?"

"Yeah," I said. "If you don't want me to be useless in an hour. Three times in an evening is pushing it."

"I guess," she said, grumbling a little as she stood. "Phooey. This is why I usually like girls better. They don't tap out so fast."

"You are insatiable," I said, something I'd said to her before before and hoped to say many more times.

"I am," she responded, the way she had before. "And you love it."

"Maybe," I said, and led her inside for a brief concession to practicality. Soon enough we were back outside, naked in the warm evening air, curled together on a thick comforter on the lush grass. She snuggled back into me, legs slightly parted to allow me to stroke her wet slit.

"Pretty," she said, looking at the sky.

"Very pretty," I said, looking at her.

She looked over her shoulder and smiled at me in the darkness. "You're not bad yourself. You've got beautiful eyes too, but I'm not as poetic as you are."

"No, I don't," I said. I might have said more if she hadn't kissed me quickly.

"I think earlier you mentioned doing something else with your mouth that wasn't arguing."

"You're right, I did."

"So while you do that, I'm going to watch the stars."

I rolled her onto her back, admiring her slim body, small soft breasts and smoothly muscled legs. She seemed luminous in the starlight. I started at her nipples, unsurprisingly hard; they never seemed to go down. I kissed each one, gently, brushing it with my lips while my fingers traced lazy circles across her mound. Her hands rested lightly on my head and she made appreciative noises as I trailed kisses across her chest, left to right, right to left, nipple to nipple. As I kissed the shallow curves of her breasts, she spoke.

"I like it out here," she said, speaking quietly. "It's peaceful. I liked Los Angeles, how busy it is, but this feels like vacation. The crickets and the frogs – is that an owl?" I stopped long enough to tell her it was a barred owl, then started trailing kisses and gentle flicks of my tongue down her torso, feeling the toned muscle from close to a decade of yoga and Pilates under my mouth.

"Fuck... that feels nice," she continued, still murmuring. "The stars are so bright. You can't see them in the city, but my sister and I go out to the desert sometimes, and they're beautiful there. They're so bright. I love it. I've always wanted to be naked under the stars like this. I'm glad it's with you."

That made me smile, as I continued ministering to her. When I reached her mound, still scrupulously smooth and bare, she hummed and gasped as my tongue flickered across her labial lips, then onto her thighs. She spread her knees further, inviting me in. As I glanced up her body, her hands were on her breasts; one squeezed lightly while she tweaked her nipple with the fingers of the other.

"Did you know tomorrow is the summer solstice?"

"Mhmm," I hummed into her skin.

"I want to do this again tomorrow, on the longest day of the year. I want to be under the sun and the sky with a boy I like. Can we do that?"

"Mhmm," I hummed again, this time taking care to vibrate my lips against her clitoral hood, and she gasped quietly and writhed under me.

"Oh, that's so good! Keep doing that. Fuuuck... You know what your eyes make me think of, Dafydd? Those nights out in the desert, and the thunderstorms we get in winter, sometimes."

"I thought you weren't poetic," I said.

"Shush. Back to work."

"It's not work, believe me. It's all pleasure." But I returned my mouth to her skin, savoring her spicy-sweet taste and the feel of her, all silken luxury, as I flicked my tongue across and into her opening. She moved a hand down to her mound, spreading herself for me, and as I moved my tongue across her I caught her fingers in my mouth and sucked them enthusiastically.

"I'm not. You bring it out of me, I guess." Her hand worked harder on her breast. "The first time I saw you, you were blushing like an idiot. It was cute. But... remember that night at the bar?"

I knew I didn't need to answer. And anyway, I was busy.

"I was so happy I'd found a friend, and so scared that I'd ruined it. And then when you said you wanted to kiss me, I swear, your eyes looked like the clouds that roll in off the ocean. Oh my – fuck – please don't stop... That's what it felt like when we kissed, like a storm coming ashore. I can't – I can't –"

I clamped my mouth across her clit and her hood and sucked it in, touching it with my tongue, then released the pressure, again and again, and she lost the thread of her words. Her back described an arc, and if I'd been able to see I think her knuckles would have been white as she dug her fingers into her tits and twisted her nipple. She came in ripples and gasps, quick inhales followed by a long shuddering breath out as her body spasmed and her thighs closed around my head, quivering madly. I didn't stop until she lay flat and still.

"Ducky... Get up here."

I crawled up her body, lying face to face with her. Her secretions were on my lips, clinging to my beard. She didn't care. I kissed her deeply, feeling the head of my cock prod at her opening. It took no effort at all to slide inside her, burying myself in her warmth. We laid there like that for long moments, me atop her, and gazed at each other in the light of the stars and the moon. Slowly, her breathing returned to normal. Slowly, our heartbeats synchronized.

"Emily, I'm sorry."

"What are you sorry for, baby?"

"I'm sorry I almost messed this up. I'm sorry I was afraid."

"No, Ducky –"

"Listen, okay? You were right. I haven't been honest with myself. Ever since I got out of college, everything I've had, I've lost. That's how I've felt, okay, so it's been easier to give things up. To not have them. If I let them go, maybe it doesn't hurt as much when they're gone." Our noses touched, then our foreheads, then our lips, just for a moment, and I moved in her slowly.

"But I was wrong, and you were right," I continued, feeling her clench around me. "If we'd stayed friends –"

"We'll always be friends," she said, stroking my face.

"I know, gorgeous. But if we'd tried to stay just friends, just to be fuckbuddies – would it have worked?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, I care about you, Emily. And I don't think I could stop myself, even if we said, yeah, we're just buddies. That's not what I want. Not just what I want, I mean. Because fucking you is incredible."

"Mmm, it is. You can go faster, if you want. Please."

I didn't. I ground myself against her slowly, grinding my pelvis against her mound, pressing my cock in as deeply as it could go, hearing her purr with pleasure. With each thrust, I tried to fill her as fully as I could. I wanted to imprint myself upon her. I wanted her to remember this night under the stars forever.

"I think it would have hurt. Every day. Just trying to be your friend and ignore that part of me that wanted more. And I think it would have hurt you too, and you'd have found someone else to help with the hurt. And I would have had my heart broken, and it would have been my own fault, because I was scared. Thank you."

Her lips parted like she was about to say something, then she shook her head gently. "Kiss me." I did, filled with reverence.

"I'll be there for you," she said softly.

"And I'll be there for you," I whispered. "Whatever it takes, Emily. Whatever you need."

She wound her arms around my neck, pulling me close. "Then we'll make it work, Ducky. We will. Make love to me, please."

I did, and she made love to me. I kissed every part of her that I could reach, lavishing attention on it with my lips, and she kissed me on my mouth, my face, my neck, my shoulders and chest. I moaned as I thrust into her, and she moaned with me, gripping me with the muscles in her canal. I felt her rippling across me as I slid out and slid in. As I pushed into her, she held me in place an extra beat, and together we found a steady pace. Not fast, not slow, but steady and inexorable and infinite – lovemaking as the steady beat of waves upon the shore. We beat on, not against the tide but with it, borne steadily into a future more filled with wonder than I'd thought it could be again.

She came quietly, but not gently. She clutched my face and forced me to watch as her pleasure crested and broke. Her mouth opened, and her eyes, black pools of starlight in the dark, stared into mine. Her ankles crossed across my back, and I felt her quiver around me in that way that was becoming blessedly, beautifully familiar, like a dove released from its cage for the first time. My pleasure followed swiftly. I spent myself inside her for the second time. As I did, her eyes closed, and she smiled softly. Christ, she was beautiful.

I thought, as I carried her to bed, that she said something. I didn't hear it, but I knew what it was.

I know I've asked for a lot of patience in my storytelling. I know there have been a lot of blind alleys, a lot of threads that haven't been pulled on and a lot of bets that haven't paid out yet. Thank you for that patience and for bearing with me. I hope this chapter was worth it, and I hope you'll stick with me going forward as we move into a new phase of the story.

I can't emphasize enough how important your ratings, favorites, and especially your comments are. I have really enjoyed writing Emily and Ducky so far, and it has been immensely motivating hearing that you've enjoyed reading about them. If you like the story, please leave a five-star rating. If there's something you like, or don't, or something I've missed or a mistake I've made, please be in touch either via comment or through Literotica's Contact the Author feature.