A Bit of Nothing Ch. 05

A/N: This contains erotic foreplay only. Also, unedited and the rawest of the raw.

***

Chapter 5

Holy shit!

Just when I thought Ellie is an ethereal beauty, she's a living goddess!

She made a brief smile, "Hi, are you one of the staff here? I want to ask if Mikey's come around?"

Staff? I saw a mental picture of my deadpan face. Time for an overkill. "Oh no, I'm Mike's fuck buddy," my mouth rolled.

She, however, was shocked she couldn't speak. But I continued, "You must be Ellie? Ellie, right?"

She affirmed so we began a little introduction. "MIke's followed his father and and his siblings, I was about to call them as Mrs. Sanditon orders."

Ellie blinked after recovering her senses. "I-I didn't I-" she stammered. Until she crouched a bit and covered her face with her palm. She was beet-red blushing. " Oh my god, I'm so sorry, Katarina. I didn't mean it like that, it's just that it's--"

It's alright, I have more time to listen. But then she changes the subject, "Mrs. Sanditon, you say? Mike has no fu--" she faltered saying that word, "friends of that sort being introduced to her mama."

I shrugged, still an overkill. "I have no idea myself when it comes to that asshole. I only asked for a one-night stand and here I am."

Ellie's mouth opened and blinked rapidly before trying to get her composure back. She's a slender and tall woman next to me. Perfect. "You said you're about to call them? May I tag along?" She asked.

"Sure," I said, before we were walking side by side where I'm about her shoulder's height. Talk about differences.

"I apologize, Katarina. I've been used to seeing different faces changing from that household based from my last visit. Their household staff are switched from their assigned destination every other year. What's a fuck buddy?" She turned her head in wonder.

Please don't tell me they have an empire now that needs some destination switch. This is not Crazy Rich Asians. This is just me wanting to fuck a Michael Sanditon.

"It's good, Ellie. Mistakes happen. A fuck buddy is a booty-call," I told her.

"Oh." She grew quiet afterwards. "I highly doubt it. Mrs. Sanditon is not that type of mama to put up arrangements she doesn't understand."

I don't understand why I ended up here myself!

"You frequently visit here?" I turned and looked up.

She took my attention and shook her head. "No," she said, "my last visit was in high school. This is the only opportunity where Mike visits here yearly." Then with a beam from this classic beauty, she became radiant when she smiled. "I'm inviting him to my wedding. He's been a good friend."

Ooh...

Oh, fuck. Talk about heavy blows. And like that, my sympathies have to go for the one I called an asshole earlier. Damn...

My heartfelt sympathies, Michael. You've been such a good friend, you see your first love walk down the aisle where you are not the groom. Oh, shit. Thank god I didn't have all that relationship heist. Fuck, I'll drown if I hustle the dating scene.

Drown with Tennessee drinks that is. I made a silent chuckle.

When we got into the destination that Ellie, herself, guided me on, we saw three men. It's Mr. Sanditon holding Mike's one shoulder and a sports car having a test drive.

"I have no idea why Matty decided to buy some of that Royce toy," says the ironic Michigan-based Mike. "Pickups carry you a good deal more than that skimpy sized power gear."

"Ain't a bad deal, son," chuckles the Mr. Sanditon. "You find me somethin' to compete with Tesla."

Ugh. Cars. Men. Fuck them. Unrelatable.

"Hi, Mr. Sanditon. Hello, Mike," initiates the sweet voice of this angel. They both turned. Mr. Sanditon greeted Ellie with a surprise, "Elizabeth, child! Quite a long time to see you back around? How's the sweet girl doin'?" But not before he turned to me, and when he opened his mouth to ask about my identity, Mike butts in.

"Dad, meet Katarina, my date. We're neighbors from your Michigan estate," he introduced.

Mr. Sanditon took time to process before he did the social niceties. "You remind me of someone," he murmured as he shook my hand.

"I'm Luisa Nievez's daughter, sir," came the only answer I know to that question.

His voice and face speaks as if sparking a lightbulb. "Right. I see."

Then this Michael suddenly came near me and held my back. What? My face made a restrained furrowed expression when I looked at him with a what-are-you-doing-now look. "Hey, Ellie," his voice clipped.

Ellie gave her sweetest girl-next-door smile. I was dazzled. Ha... Unsung celebrities. "I was about to say as my best friend way back in high school, I would like to invite you to the most special day of my life."

I felt his hand on my back stop. Then grew cold? Shit, what? Like freezing cold.

"And that would be?" says Mr. Sanditon, 'cause the man had no clue.

"My wedding, Mr. Sanditon," her smile says it all. "You're all invited," pitched by her bright voice. "Please attend if you have the time."

Then for a barest split second of a moment, Mike's hand shook. And dang, I felt pity. He's not yet over to this ex.

Then I remembered that one job to get a good reward: rebound girlfriend mode. Alright, Katarina. You only had one job. I faintly inhaled and turned my body around to take and grab Mike's hand. I internally shook my head. Pity this man. What he did is to only love and sacrifice. I made another mental sigh. Fuck you high school romance for putting these high expectations like Mike's. Ha-ha. And thank god, I'm out of place in that conversation.

Mike, however, held on tightly with those sweaty hands. Wait, those hands sweat now? New discovery: his hand sweats. Now, that makes me want to chuckle in triumph. Mr. Andrew gave his biggest felicitations when Matty, the younger brother, got out of his car. He saw Ellie and was in daze for a second (obviously crushing on his brother's ex, ha-ha) when his face was mopped upon knowing Ellie's purpose to visit.

Mr. Sanditon invited her to come join the family for lunch since he claimed it's his wife's cooking. Ellie had to politely decline since she had plans for herself. When she bid her goodbye after finding that her purpose is now complete, I, too, became aware that I've been holding Mike's hand all along.

It was just a palm to palm hand holding the last time I remembered it. Why the hell when I checked it again they were now intertwined? I looked up and saw him smiling tightly. Look, he's acting like a bloke. But since I'm a rebound girlfriend, I let him for now. Poor, poor former high school sweetheart. That shit got to blow.

We then returned to the house and found the eldest of the brothers, Oliver, came with his family.

"Uncle Mike," says his niece and lunges to his neck. His hand finally lets go from mine when he squats to catch his niece. Then two more toddlers rushed to him. Somehow all that distress he had with Ellie's bomb disappeared.

I looked at his brother Oliver who is now busy assessing Matty's sports car, then Mr. and Mrs. Sanditon having a good wine either as a date or a business talk. Who knows? Then there's Oliver's blonde wife who is currently chatting along with Mike's other siblings that includes four sisters.

This is one hell of a large family.

I was busy gazing at this landscape next to my supposed date when my eyes mindlessly stayed in his direction, he was playing along with those kids. Man, if you've seen his expression, it says one thing: he's happy about things like this. And in those longing looks, he wanted one of his own.

Oh my god, Mi-ka-el. You're a nice guy but why did the devil decide to cast a misfortune on you with Ellie?

I could cry on behalf of Mike's woe, really. Or I can write him a book. Ha-ha.

When lunch came and the big turkey was out, the kids argued to slice. They were all apprehended 'cause kids don't hold knives, says older Mrs. Sanditon.

"How old are the toddlers, Mrs. Sanditon?" I was referring to Oliver's wife. The young Mrs. Sanditon.

"Three," she whispered as she sat beside me.

"Beautiful twins," my breath spoke in daze. "They look like that painting done by an English painter named Joshua Reynolds."

Young Mrs. Sanditon was piqued and asked what they would look like. I scrambled my phone and began searching Google when I showed her, "It's called The Age of Innocence. Which became an inspiration by this New York female author who derived the same title as Reynold's painting."

"How flattering," chuckles the young Mrs. Sanditon. "Why, thank you."

Huh? Without too much fuss about that confusion, I just gave her a crooked smile.

"Do you think we should go for gluten-free shake or pomegranate rejuvenating milk shake from Erewhon instead?" says one of the youngest sisters. Excuse them, they're high school girls.

I turned around and see a tanned girl dressed up in hot pink look. Her other sister who happens to be not far from her age replied, "So West Coast." Then she swung her hands away as she made sounds. "If I wish for something fresh, I go here at our public market."

Word. This sister was in a clean girl aesthetic.

Someone tapped me on my shoulders. I turned around and saw another replicate of older Mrs. Sanditon's beauty, the female version of Mike.

"Hey, Kat," she began. "Do you know where Angelina Jolie's new atelier was put up in New York? You're from New York, right?"

"Before," I replied. "Up until college. I haven't been able to catch up."

Another girl popped up, this time looking like Mr. Sanditon, but had her hair bleached to platinum while tanned. "Do you know where Meatpack District is?"

I told them. One sister groaned, "We're up for our portfolio in Fashion School, and I'm hoping to be one of Angelina's resident artist."

This beauty got some goals, with some set-backs however.

"Why not apply for New York Fashion Week?" Interjects young Mrs. Sanditon.

"Or Paris," says the platinum haired sister, her head planted on her hand.

"Who's going to Paris?" suddenly cheered the two high schoolers.

"No kids allowed, sorry," says the sister with platinum hair.

The two high schoolers began arguing with their older sister who said that, labeling her a gatekeeper. I looked around and find this gathering quite a tapestry. When my eyes accidentally lands on Mike's profile only to see he's also looking at me, I averted my eyes away. What the fuck he's at? Do I have a gunk in my left eye? Shit, I slept in the plane last time.

I checked my left eye and found nothing. I looked at him again, pissed. He laughed.

Jerk.

And I remember all my plans. I turned to the older Mrs. Sanditon, "Mrs. Sanditon, when did Mike stop pissing his bed?"

The chats among us women grew silent, especially for the two high schoolers. They all turned around to look at their mother. Matty, however, spurted his drink of water before coughing and looking at Mike. "Is that how your date took interest in you?"

This guy is a nineteen year old Gen Z E-boy aesthetic. Encouraged, I asked again. "What diapers did he use? Did he even use diapers?"

The two college sisters chuckled. The two high schoolers said gross.

"Pampers," says Matty and starts laughing on his seat.

"Kat, find a better topic, will you?" says the aggrieved person.

"I don't quite remember but it's longer than Matty." When Mrs. Sanditon said it, Matty punches Mike's arm as a tease, laughing badly. "He was also later weaned around the age of seven--"

"---Eeew, Mike," says the two high schoolers in unison and laughed along with their brother, Matty.

"Mama!" he protests, even his utensils start clunking on the table. Matty had a feast on that information.

"MILF!" bursted Matty in between that derisive laugh. The two sisters gasped. The sister with a platinum hair throwed him something to stop.

Puzzled, Mrs. Sanditon turns to him, "what do you mean, Mat?"

"Nothing, Mrs. Sanditon," I butt in when Mike's voice threatens Matty, who was seated next to him.

"It's a complement, mama," eased her daughter that looks exactly like her. "Matty is secretly crushing on Mike's ex Ellie. So he says that a lot."

Now it's Matty's turn to throw at her with something which she evaded with success. She smirked and gave Matty a look.

"Imma break your neck, Mat," Mike's voice steeled however.

The young Mrs. Sanditon was left clueless from the rest. While the twins' messy plate and short attention span started victimizing their Dad to be carried up as the both of them sat on his lap. Note: two devils. Oliver, who was busy talking to his father, had to manage simultaneously the energy of these restless twins.

After that lunch and some early dinner, we began to disperse to our different preoccupations. The high schoolers began doing some TikTok contents while Matty lock himself up to his room for some live-streaming and game-playing. Oliver's family has to retire as a family unit since the kids have gone asleep. Older Mrs. Sanditon recommended me to visit some of the sights, ordering Mike to be a tour guide.

Like he's not used to being a tour guide anyway. I smirked.

"So, you're going to Ellie's wedding?" I mentioned after he made me see a league of fuckin' horses galloping in the wild open. Mike told me Ellie was an equestrian. I didn't know that, but it fits Ellie too.

Quite a country girl.

Our strides between this walks are a fuckin' gap that he had to painfully slow down.

"I should," he answered. "There's no love lost."

Sure thing, boss.

This is a meditating walk in a yard that screams wilderness. He warned me about coyotes so we ended up going back to their house. It's the first time I saw Mike wearing denim; a straight cut that emphasizes his lower silhouette. No, I just noticed. Not me trying to look somewhere. His round hips screams in those jeans though. Tourist attraction, Katarina.

"Wait, is that a cottage?" I pointed, seeing a beautiful rounded room filled with flowers.

"Mom's gazebo. That's where she puts all her pot-plants and flowers," my tour guide elaborated.

I made a squeal of excitement before patting his arm and left him to run inside. I'm shameless like that.

"This place is serene," I gasped. "Why'd you choose to leave this place?"

I saw a well-tended flower garden, filled with different colors. There were roses, carnations, a hibiscus and then blue hydrangea. Beautiful, beautiful creatures.

I heard him spoke behind me, "I like my home. But I'm not living in it forever if I want my own life."

I turned around. "Wow, thanks." Implying that I, myself, is still living with my parents.

He chuckled and lifted a smile. Too cheesy, I'm unwilling to note that. He approached and lightly tapped my forehead. "I thought we're dating? Can you stop being such a bitch?" says an easy-mannered tone. "People move under their own circumstances," he said. "Or not move."

So are we being sympathetic now?

I removed his palm that still remains on my forehead until he rolled and grabbed my hand for a hand-holding. Shit, why so cheesy...

"I always wonder..." I said when I lean down to smell the carnations and roses, 'cause they're so vibrant and pretty. Their bloom evokes pleasingly good, damn. "Why nurse? You could've been on the Forbes 30 under 30 list with some start-up?"

"I know." He sighed before continuing, "but I found a clearer life in Michigan."

Oh.

Yeah, I guess.

"Seems like a corporate career couldn't suit the both of us," was my only babble.

He didn't reply but stood beside me while holding my hand.

So this is how he spent his holiday. He always comes home with this family to greet him. No wonder he's the way he is. One thing I noticed though is that this house screams life and domesticity. Strip of its embellishments, and the glamour, they are the sort of people who manage their lives within tradition.

I had a moment of clarity at that.

How nice...

Suddenly, my own life came to a flash that my heart grew heavy. I mean with Mike? There's nothing to say but those little joys of where he grew up. Privileged kids rarely have that sort in them.

It'd be complicated love affairs. Getting it on a mile high club with amplifying sort. At the Sanditons, they are just something anyone of the traditional sort would love to have somehow. Those are the best things that happen in life that are free. Affordable, and perhaps for the right people, something that can be worked on.

Our own household paid a high price for some luxury though.

"You think there's a chance to enter the workforce? If one decided to give it a try?" I asked. I looked up to see him just giving a tight but easy smile.

"As long as it gives you the fulfillment you're looking for," he said.

I tried to return that easiness until something in me resurfaced. When I saw a mahogany table, I walked to it, letting go of his hand, and planted them instead on the table as I leaned into its edge to breathe.

For them, and for him growing up like this, and wanting something like this sort in return; him and Ellie could've been perfect.

I breathe out.

Enough.

I could feel my own suffocation. My own claustrophobic, overwhelming guilt engulfing me until they crumble my delusions down.

I don't want to be the perfect homewrecker by bringing toxicity to his home. Had enough, Kat? Had enough, you're going too far with these plans?

Let him go. He doesn't deserve this. You, constantly treating him like this when you can clearly see how his past relationships affected him.

"Let's stop this, Mike."

Silence.

But soon jitters started spreading around my skin. I let go of the table, stood up and shook my hand. I could feel my own palm growing cold just like him earlier. "Let's make this cleaner while nothing happens." I looked at him, determined. "I don't want this anymore," I kept repeating.

Mike's expression was still. He looked at me. His eyes never left my direction until those relaxed features grew numb, and quiet, until they hardened.

"Is something wrong? What's the problem, Kat?" The concern in his voice rose.

I shook my head. "I don't want to sleep with you anymore," I said in shaky breath.

His feet lunged to move quickly to me. Once he's near, those big hands held both of my shoulders. "Why? Kat, I can see your hands are shaking."

Who's shaking? Me? I can't breathe.

I swallowed, forcing my thoughts into the backburner. Boy, I only want you. Didn't I say that? I only want you even if you don't want me. Fuck me with only my body in sight, and not in this demand. My eyes looked up, emotionless. "I don't want you anymore."

He let's go, kept a comfortable distance by stepping back until he bursts.

"Sonnova bitch!"

It was a crisp, explosive snap. My ears had to swing away, and washed my face with my palm. I knew this was coming, I pissed him off. Pissed him off when I cannot make up my own goddamn mind until his good amount of patience finally ran out.

"You mess with my head, Katarina. Big time," his barely contained anger scoffed. "I wish I could say you're a manipulative bitch, but I've seen you with your father."

The mention of it stung. It was personal and had nothing to do with him!

"Leave him out of this," my voice hissed beneath my teeth.

He turned, approached, and crouched to cover his hands to both of my cheeks. "Can you just look at me, for once, as a person?" He contemplated, he put my head up to find out that his eyes had been olive green all along.

"Look at me, for once, and tell me if you've ever liked me as a person? Tell me what I did to make you this way? Tell me, Kat. You keep doing this to me long before we're just mere acquaintances." He swung his gaze away and swallowed. I saw how his Adam's apple bobbed and how his jaw twitched. He might be struggling to reserve what he now tells before me.

He turned his head again, only for me to sustain a glassy sight of those bright olive eyes. "Your gaze hovered to keep seeing what's hung on my crotch. But when you talk to me, god..." he paused and breathed.

He then grew quiet, his voice lowered. I can barely hear it. "You pay attention with such detail," he spoke mildly. "As if you've ruptured what was beneath my thoughts. What the fuck is that?" his voice pressed, frustrated.

"I want you to treat me fairly, please, I want you like the last one. The last one where your full attention--even if it's with a surreptitious gaze--is only meant for me, Kat. But you're exhausting. You exhaust me by just how I keep walking on eggshells just so you can make me feel heard by the brief moment of your own lucidity." He then lets go, turns around, walks to a comfortable distance yards away from me and gives out a long breath.

I moved and sat on the edge of the mahogany table, my hands covering my face as I breathed in, until I let my hands go so I could look down to watch the floor. I then looked up when he turned back to me.

His eyes lingered. They were resigned and withering from how he looked. His expression, around the corner of his eyes, had gone weary. "I like you sometimes. I like you when you let yourself be seen freely. Not this," his exasperated voice exhaled, throwing his hands before pacing around. "All muddled up."

I'm sorry, Mike. I don't want to hurt you.

He's nice. I can annoy him, slight him and irritate him but not hurt him where he's sad.

"Mike," I murmured. "You're not hard to like yourself."

My hands held to the edge of the table I sat myself against, clamping this mahogany tighter. "As a person, you're nice. Considerate, always there to help, patient to put up childish antics. I mean, you rose above your own relationship slights. What is there not to like about?" my eyes rose across him, and there I saw again, the same old anticipating bright olive green eyes.

Adorable by the better things. If only it were true to me.

I gave him my encouraging but reserved smile, he's someone you will eventually respect. Before it can get awkward though, with these feelings be so cheesy as fuck it disgusts me, I averted my gaze away.

"The architecture of this enclosed garden gazebo is extraordinary," I observed. Noticing indeed they are crafted by the keen eye of an architect and an interior designer. Fuck. Why do I still notice classism and its rich kids?

Mike's steps rushed, before I knew it, he held me by the shoulders again and met my eye-level. "Say it again and look at me," he said as I could feel his breath. "I'll forgive you if you do."

I turned my head, uplifted. That's good of him, though. I smiled. "How really nice of y--"

Then like that, soft lips were pressed against mine. Stunned, I froze when he withdrew and did it again. He had his eyes closed, breathed in earnest when he pressed kisses multiple times on me before my brain circuited a fine logic.

This. This is what I originally came for. It's coming. Fuck my feelings, so what if it involves a family Thanksgiving? I can play the part. But would that mean, I'll be sleeping with him?

Damn! With pleasure!

And just like that, libido defies the rule of logic.

He took a pause and stood up. I was below his chest level, doing an internal shake at this. Such a barrier, a waste for momentum, if I was Jessica's height, we could've been at it this instant.

He tilted my chin and saw him having a soft smile. Cringey because it means we're going soppy, I don't want to talk about it. It bothers me. I reject anything it implies.

"Can we have sex?" For all the fuckery that I told him, I ended up coming back to this deal.

He didn't speak but ran his hands on my skin. Electricity jolted when it swept all over my body, he lifted me up to the table and undid the buttons of my jeans. His head then dipped and began kissing me. At that cue, I wrapped my arms around his neck and received it. I took his textured, lazy tongue kiss when my zippers grazed down, sinking his fingers beneath my pants and made a sweeping touch against my panty.

I gasped, he took that space to insert more of his tongue then began to stroke his fingers. My mind electrocuted in arousal. It's finally Mike doing it. He circled my clit, and I couldn't breath in my mouth as he let me drink with a deeper plunge of his tongue. But then he withdrew, kissed me excessively wet in my jaw until his soft licks dripped down my neck.

I whimpered, closing my eyes and knitting my brows badly at the acute sensitivity of my arousal.

He got to my ear and began to whisper, "I would touch you but I will never take you yet. Unless you're mine." His strokes kept going and going, I rode my build-up. I rolled my hips from the attention of his fingers. "I'm taking dibs, Kat. If I fucked you, will your body sticks up only for me?" He asked.

His hand moved and began creeping under my panty, when I felt the rough texture of his fingers, my urges spiked. "Please, put it in," I pleaded.

He made some light strokes first before circling my clit once more. Frustrated, since my body didn't want any of that stimulation, I complained. I knew I was already wet because it anticipated too much of him. He put it in, and my voice cried. I felt two fingers stretching my pussy, and this hot rush came again when he pressed something in my walls.

In and out those slender fingers go inside a lubricated cunt and I felt it. That delicious moment when he touches something again. "Tap it, Mike. Vibrate it," my voice rushed. He did, in a steady stroke he added what I wanted and I rolled my hips mad.

I rode his fingers until it came. A snapping first and a flooding wave of shivering body second until the third exploded to tight clutches around his fingers. I made a small shriek, my mouth had opened but my eyes were shut tight. Just as my brain melts from any sort of better senses. He didn't cease, instead, he gentled his strokes until my come subsided.

Fuck. Fuck.

My arousal is not yet satisfied. Fuck. Right at this moment, at whatever bidding he wants, I can just say yes.

"Let's fuck," I gasped. But slowly, he withdrew his fingers and saw him looking straight at me when he licked them.

"Sweet," he said.

And damn, if I didn't ask him to finger fuck me again.