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“So you have money to live.”
Her concern was endearing. “I do.”
The door dinged and Heather glances over. One of her employees is taking care of the customer and Heather weaves her fingers with mine, leading me outside. We walk toward Central Park. It's nice to be together. I'm amazed by the amount of traffic. I'd spent the last few years bowing down to my father, working all kinds of hours so I might be chosen to lead the company—of course, it wasn’t ever going to happen. I’d stopped living when I moved here and I hated what I’d become.
There's a fruit vendor where Heather stops and purchases us apples. She's so easy and relaxed; it makes me smile. How could I have ever walked away from her?
“You’re a smart man, Baxter.”
“I don’t really feel smart.”
“Well, you are. How about I cook you dinner at my place?”
I nod and take another bite of the apple. “I’d like that.”
We wander back to her office, her pointing out the architecture she likes and clothes she thinks looks good on people. She also points out poorly made clothing. I enjoy our walk and her easy attitude. Spending time with her makes me happy. For so long I’d ignored my happiness in sacrifice for some elusive promise my father never intended on fulfilling.
She tells me she has work to do, and I realize I need to do some more work on myself. I head home and open my computer. My email has blown up. My dad has thrown his weight around and he’s bitching at the CEO and my boss. But it won’t do any good. I’m done with bowing down to him.
I take the time to send the CEO and my boss emails, telling them they haven’t done anything wrong. Next is an email to my dad, telling him I won’t be party to his meltdown.
I sit back and watch the traffic on York. Since moving back east and starting on my master’s degree, I’ve not taken time for myself. Life revolved around pleasing my dad. There are so many options out there, but what should I do? The only thing I’m sure of is I won’t bow down to my dad anymore. It’s time I start making my own way. Volunteer work intrigues me.
At six, I pack a bag and take a car to Heather’s place. I hope she lets me stay because I really like the idea of waking up next to her. She’s the fresh shot of goodness I need in my life. I should have stayed with her in California, but back then, I’d not been ready.
She’s just putting the food into the oven when I show up. “It smells good," I say.
Her lips turn up. “Just wait until it’s cooked.”
“What are we having?”
“It’s a chicken and squash casserole I’ve been trying to perfect.”
I place my bag by the sofa, hoping I don’t appear too presumptuous. Heather comes over and takes my hand, leading me into her bedroom. She tugs at my shirt, untucking it.
“We’re having dessert first,” she purrs.
Blood rushes from my head to my cock. I have a hard time thinking around her when we have our clothes on, but when we’re naked, it’s a lost cause. Any thoughts about a job I’d wanted to talk over with her flee. She tugs off her shirt, and my brain short circuits. She’s beautiful and amazing. I drop to my knees and tug her pants off before leaning in and licking her slit. She gasps and then sighs. That little noise ramps my desire higher. She drops to the bed, and I put her legs over my shoulders as I go to work making her life better.
I circle her clit with my tongue before sucking the nub into my mouth. Heather cries out and throws her head back. I do a long lazy lick up her pussy before I slide in two fingers. She arches her back and I hold still, loving the feeling of her getting wet around me.
Her fingers tug on my hair, and I let out a low chuckle. This is what I've been waiting for all day. The taste of her on my tongue sends my desire higher as I lick her clit again. Her fingers tighten in my hair. I want to feel her pulsing around me. After grabbing a condom, I unbutton my pants and push them low. Rolling the rubber on isn't as easy as it should be because my tongue is still tasting her. She's moaning and arching against me and I'm more than ready to push in and enjoy the feeling of being connected to her.
I move her legs off my shoulders and she complains, but she has no time to do more than raise a few small objections before I slide in. She's grabbing at my shirt, tugging it open so she can get her hands on me. I push in deeper and she gasps.
“Do you like it?”
“Baxter, my God. More, give me more.”
She asks for it, and I oblige, pulling out all the way before shoving in. I’m rocking against her, our bodies damp with sweat. Her eyes open and drill right into me. I swear I’ve lost my soul to her. It’s more than I can take. She pushes me over the edge of sanity.
I reach between us and press on her clit. It’s all she needs and she shatters, coming hard as her inner walls grasp my cock. This is the best cock massage I’ve ever had. My heart is pumping hard as my head spins. This orgasm feels so good because she’s wrapped around me. This is where I need to stay. No work, no other woman, nothing comes close to how Heather makes me feel.
After we finish, we head to the bathroom to clean up. She slips into sweats and a t-shirt. I grab the shorts and a t-shirt from my bag. Hanging out with her is comfortable, almost like we've never separated. I can’t escape the fact that I left California and Heather. I never should have walked away.
“What are you thinking about?” Heather asks.
“I want to be better. I don’t want to spend my life regretting things.”
