June 10, 2016  | Delay of Game, Free Fiction  | (2)

Chapter Four

He slumps contentedly against my chest. “Give me a moment, and then I’ll get up and get you a towel.”

“I can’t move anyway,” I mumble.

Somewhere, Wyatt finds the strength to heave himself off me and stumble into the bathroom. As promised, he returns with a towel and a wet washcloth and proceeds to clean me up.

“Why have we waited so long to act on this?” It’s almost a rhetorical question because the answer is probably me and my unwillingness to change the status quo for so long.

“We were both afraid of losing something important. I realized as soon as I broke up with Heidi that you were the one for me. And despite you trying to get me to sleep with every single woman in a five-mile radius, I didn’t want anyone but you.” Wyatt tucks the towel under my ass. “You’re my best friend. When I think of home, I think of you. I can’t imagine growing old without you right by my side, but I never thought you wanted me for anything more than a friend.” He slides a strand of hair behind my ear. “And if friendship was all I’d ever have from you, then I’d take that because something was better than nothing at all.”

“But you never said anything.”

“I’ve tried to but you’d only tell me that you weren’t interested. That you didn’t want to be tied down. That marriage was for suckers. You bought a chair so you wouldn’t have to sit on the sofa next to me. You kept encouraging me to hit on other women.”

I wince because I did say and do all those things. “I said all that because I never believed I could get what I wanted.”

“And that is?” he asks with an arched brow.

“You, of course.” I twist his nipple to pay him back for making me say it.

He rolls me over and swats me on the ass.

“Tomorrow, we’re buying you a plug and you’re going to wear it all day.” He caresses my round cheeks.

“Why?” Not that I’m protesting. I’d do anything he suggests.

“Because I want to fuck you right here.” He provides delicious payback for my earlier exploration by shoving his thumb into the sensitive ring of tissue. I gasp into the pillows. “And the plug will prepare you. It will make you hot.”

“I dunno.”

“Tilt your hips up, baby.” He groans. “God, I wish you could appreciate what I’m seeing right now. Your glorious ass is so round and tight. Your pussy is dripping, you are so excited.” He positions himself at my opening and slides right in, his passage lubricated by my excitement and his. This time it’s much more leisurely.

He fondles my breasts and my clit almost absentmindedly. “We need to find a new place. Maybe over by your sister’s place. Big backyard. A pool would be nice,” he muses. “Our apartments are too small.”

“Why didn’t you move before?”

“Because I didn’t want to be away from you,” he says simply as if there is no other answer.

I slump against the mattress because his revelations are too much for me to take in. He’s loved me for so long. As long as I’ve loved him. But because we were afraid of losing each other, neither was willing to make a change. For a while, the half-life we’d been living was enough.

“I wouldn’t have moved either, you know,” I tell him. His arms tighten around me when I share that. “Even if I had looked at other places, none of them would have felt right because you weren’t there with me.”

He places a soft kiss on the crown of my head. “I think we should get married at Christmas. Your parents will be back. It’s six weeks away, and that’ll give you enough time to find everything you need.”

“Married?” The languid sensation that’s overtaken me because of his slow and measured dicking is making it difficult for me to process his words.

“You’re going to make an honest man out of me, aren’t you?” He teases. ”I won’t be able to look your Dad in the eye knowing how I’m defiling you on a regular basis without a ring around your finger.”

“I just didn’t realize you wanted to marry me,” I squeak.

“Yeah, because guys who aren’t in love with their best friends don’t have sex for five years all the time. That’s normal.” These words are followed by a few forceful thrusts.

“I haven’t had sex in longer,” I gasp out.

He reaches around and covers my mouth. “In my mind, I was your first. I can’t take hearing about Tim Grantland taking your virginity again. It was traumatizing the first time around.”

“For me too,” I say in protest. “He was terrible.”

“I wasn’t sure whether to beat him to a pulp for being bad, or feel grateful that you didn’t want to go back for seconds,” Wyatt licks the nape of my neck.

I shudder at the thought of being manhandled by Tim again. “It turned me off sex for a while, that’s for sure.”

“Which is a fucking shame,” Wyatt informs me. “Because you should always enjoy yourself.”

In the middle of a stroke, my stomach growls.

Wyatt sighs and slides out of me. I turn over and grab for him. “Don’t go.”

He squeezes my hand. “It’s okay. We’ve all night and the rest of our lives. Let’s go get some food.”

I lick my lips. Food does sound good. My stomach growls again, and I give up the pretense of not being hungry. Wyatt strolls nude into the kitchen but I throw on his t-shirt. It’s so domestic and wonderful that it’s hard not to break out in song and dance. I manage to control myself as we make up a huge cheese, cracker, and salami plate. I throw on some grapes, and we hustle back to the bedroom.

The clock says it’s nine, which means it’s half time. Instinctively, I turn on the game, causing Wyatt to laugh.

“What?”

“The guys are going to be so damn jealous.” He lifts a hank of my hair and presses a kiss against my shoulder but he doesn’t turn off the television.

As the game goes by, Wyatt fingers me. It’s not easy to pay attention or care about the game, even though one of our friends is on television, playing ball. I can hear how wet I am as Wyatt slides his fingers in and out of me.

“We’re never going to Mulligan’s again.”

“Why?” I gasp when he flicks his thumb against my clit.

“Because this is the best way to watch the game.” He reaches over and moves the tray from the bed to the side table. “You’re not in full control of your limbs right now so I’m going to move the cheese tray over here.” He doesn’t stop stroking me. His eyes are glued to the game but his fingers work me nonstop until I’m breathless and coming.

With a glint of heat in his eyes, he sticks his fingers in his mouth and sucks them dry. “Best late-night snack ever.”

The phone rings before I can attack him again.

Wyatt answers. “It’s Robert,” he tells me, covering the mouthpiece. “He said he’s been waiting at Mulligan’s for two hours and wants us to get our asses over there. The rest of the gang is there.”

I don’t mind. After all, I’ve come three times. My vagina could use a break. “Okay.”

Mulligan’s is only two blocks away but Wyatt holds my hand the whole time. I lean against him, marveling at how beautiful everything looks tonight. The street lamps are shining bright. Even the garbage bags gleam shiny in the darkness.

I can’t stop smiling. Robert takes one look at us and knows. I don’t know how he knows, but he knows. He raises a fist in the air. “Who had five?” he yells.

A whistle goes up in the back. A Mulligan’s regular, Stan McCamp, rushes forward. “Me!” He pounds his fist against his chest. “I had five.”

“You lucky son of a bitch.” Robert slaps him on the back. The rest of the regulars and our friends crowd around, all handing Stan five-dollar bills. By the end, he has nearly $100.

“What the hell?” I ask.

“You two did it, right?” Robert asks, flicking a finger between Wyatt and me.

I press my lips together but a warm flush creeps up to paint red and ‘guilty’ all over my killer cheekbones. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Wyatt turns to the bartender and puts in an order. Then he slides an arm around my waist. “We’re together now, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Took you long enough.” Robert shakes his head mournfully. “I put in for six months post-graduation. It was obvious you two were meant to be together. I just didn’t realize you were both so dumb as to ignore it.”

“I’m not dumb,” I object. “I graduated summa cum laude.”

“You were about this.” Robert ruffles my hair. Before he can cast any more aspersions on our intelligence, our college buddy, Ty Masters, intercepts the ball and starts running for the end zone.

Wyatt leans forward, his chin on my shoulder. “First time for everything.”

I harrumph silently. I wasn’t dumb and I didn’t ignore it. We just…delayed the play until we were both ready. And now it’s perfect. Wyatt and I hadn’t been each other’s first but we’d be each other’s last.

As if he can sense my thoughts, Wyatt curls me closer to rest his chin on the top of my head. “Love you, Lisle Cunningham.”

If the Mulligan folks said I floated the rest of the night, they wouldn’t be wrong.