She pushed me toward the bed. Apparently it was my turn first—I wasn’t going to argue.
So with a soft cough, as if the sound would somehow preserve my modesty, I got on the bed and spread my legs.
15
Jaz
If this body was going to haunt me, it’d be the sexiest damn ghost in the history of the planet.
“Oh, fuck.” I caressed each thigh. As desperate as I was to taste her, they were begging to be appreciated. All soft and creamy, the perfect backdrop for the intricate folds between. I stroked and squeezed those thighs, bending to trail my tongue in the direction of her core.
Dr. Faye Charlotte Erwin was completely at my mercy.
Her flesh quivered. “Jaz…” Her hips shuddered forward and backward in an unconscious imitation of a thrust.
Parting her legs, I set my tongue on her. The velvety folds were soaked with her arousal. She squirmed at the first brush of contact, and her reaction only grew as
I trailed my tongue upward. Her hips bucked, and I could tell she was trying to restrain herself… but by the time I reached her clit, she was wriggling helplessly under me.
I swirled my tongue around her bud, enjoying my view of her sexy stomach and quivering breasts. Faye moaned and reached for the back of my head, holding me in. In response, I gripped her waist as if to tell her I wasn’t going anywhere. Until she reached her peak, I belonged exclusively to her and her pleasure.
Every woman was different, and I intended to learn the exact touch Faye would enjoy. I planned to memorize her patterns of arousal and release. Forget poetry—her body would be my ultimate subject. I’d study her, hypothesize about her desire, observe her reactions. I’d compose an erotic thesis about giving her pleasure.
Bobbing my head, I tested out different rhythms, trying to find one she’d like. I added my hand to the mix, slipping a single finger inside her. Moving it in time with my tongue, I peeked at her face to see how she was doing. I couldn’t get a clear view of her, but I glimpsed how her teeth were firmly set in her bottom lip. She thrashed from side to side as if she was already trying not to come.
Interesting… She definitely liked this, then. I climbed to my knees so I could finger her harder, noticing as I did that I could touch myself as well in this position. I slipped a hand between my legs.
Faye sat halfway up, taking in what I was doing. Her frenzied eyes met mine, and she let out an “Oh…”
So that turned her on, seeing me masturbate? I pulled back from her, fingering both of us so she could get a good view. Her gaze fixed on one hand, then the other.
“Oh, fuck,” she hissed, her body seizing up, her hips rising. The last syllable caught in her throat, turning midway into an incoherent groan. I watched her face with self-satisfaction.
The woman of words had lost her words.
* * *
The routine over the next few months was much the same as usual.
Gretchen slept at Faye’s place. Several nights a week, I did, too. When I was there, I’d take her with me in the morning. When I wasn’t, I picked her up at Faye’s office first thing in the morning.
I took her with me to the university library, or to the grad student lounge. On days when she got especially fussy, I checked out the books I needed and worked at Faye’s apartment. Sometimes we went to the story hour at the public library. As she got a little bigger, sometimes we went to the playground. Even if she just crawled around in the grass, she enjoyed the fresh air and change of scenery.
At five, I brought her back to Faye. We exchanged a few kisses and talked about our days. Often we had dinner together. Often that led to going back to her place.
The sex was unbelievable, and the pillow talk was almost as good. We stayed up half the night reading poetry to each other and talking about the social context behind what we’d read. She introduced me to postcolonial writers, and I made her read some of the classics she’d always found too dull to try. Turned out nothing was too dull when I had my own special ways of rewarding her for listening.
Sometimes I was still awed when I took a step back and thought about who I was sleeping with. More and more, though, Faye was just Faye—smart, fun, and incredibly sexy. I felt lucky to have found a woman like her, and her title and credentials were only a bonus. I wished we could’ve had an official relationship, but I knew that would be asking for too much.
She and I were closer than ever. That warmed my heart, even as it confused me.
When it came to Gretchen, the difference was that there was a certain sense of resolution that had never been there before. A certain settledness.
It felt less and less like this was a temporary situation, more like Gretchen was going to be a permanent fixture in our lives. Our talk of her going back to Amanda had diminished to nothing. In fact, as time went on and Faye didn’t bring her up, I was a little afraid for her sister’s name to even cross my lips.
We didn’t know where Amanda was or what she was up to. Faye hadn’t heard from her since she’d backed out of meeting Gretchen, or if she had, she wasn’t telling me.
Gretchen had a high chair at Faye’s apartment now, and a second car seat to go in my car. Where did all this money come from? I didn’t know how, but between the two of us, we scrounged it up.