Funny Feelings (69)

I’d also felt hungry when I left early, those god damn s’mores blondies stuck in my mind for the better half of a week after yet another failed attempt. I’d polished off another tray the night before.

So, I called Fee and went over there. Had one of our most carefree, simple nights to date. Caught her in her blondie, salty, lies. Carried her snoring, beautiful body to bed that night.

She’d smiled when I tucked her in and murmured “Love you”, with her eyes closed. I’d stood there and stared, longer than I should have. Wanting to hear it again just to be certain that I’d heard it in the first place.

Logically, I know it was just nonsense muttered in her sleep, but sometimes my mind wanders back to it. Like that Saturday last Fall when she taught Haze how to make an omelette or, for my benefit, how to make a pot of coffee… Or like the time they picked out flowers to plant along the side yard during the latest drought, against my grumbling. When they swung around in circles with their hands clasped and faces to the sky when it finally rained. In those moments, I pretend it was real and I whisper it back to her under my breath. Sometimes I mouth it to her when she’s on stage.

I never told her what I heard from Clay, because I never had any doubts that she’d make it this far. On her own. I wanted her to have that full experience for herself, without wondering when, or even if it would come to fruition.



I slide the key I’d swiped from the dresser into the door, opening it carefully, shutting it as quietly as I can manage.

I’ll need to grab clean clothes from my bag before I can slip into the shower so I can avoid too much more opening and closing of doors, since Fee gets petulant when she’s up before seven.

I step into the end of the hallway where my bag still lay, only halfway in the closet.

And then, I freeze.

The moment pulses, my eyes devouring the little recoil in the curve of her ass as Fee whips around to the side, wet hair scattering around her bare shoulders. She clutches the towel loosely at her naked front, unabashedly. Not trying to hide. She holds my gaze before she continues toweling off. A droplet of water trickles down the ends of her long hair, sliding a slow path around a rosy brown nipple— one that tightens as I watch, transfixed. It slips under the swell before she swipes at it with the towel.

I should move. I should turn around. My temples throb with too-long banked lust that sears through me. My palms heat with it, a frantic gathering at every endpoint of me screaming at me to take three more strides and fall to my knees before her.

“It’s a new day, Meyer,” she says, before she tosses the towel aside and steps my way.



FARLEY



I didn’t plan it.

I’d hopped into the shower, thinking that maybe Meyer slipped out to go get some better rest in his own room. I’ve been told I snore. Sometimes I thrash.

But then he walked back in, skin beaded with sweat. A faint waft of that petrichor smell of his hit me, stronger now. Hair still unkept and fluffy atop his beautiful, stern face.

His eyes immediately clung onto me and heated, going hazy like the time he had that fever for days on end. His cheeks flush now, swaying a little on his feet.

I see it when he gives into it, throws the key card and whatever else he has in his clenched fist to the ground, meeting me halfway and crashing his lips against mine.

I lick into his mouth, desperate to taste him, to absorb him. I slide my tongue up along the salty column of his throat, reaching up onto my toes. He makes a helpless, ragged sound, lifts me and grinds into me clumsily. His desperation heightens mine, and I claw and press and pant. He walks me to the dresser and drops me onto it, my wet skin making an indecent noise that has us laughing breathily into each others mouths. His big palms squeeze my ribs, thumbs tracing the skin beneath my breasts.

“Dying to taste you.” He dips and rolls a nipple between his teeth and I gasp.

“My—” I suck in another gasp when he plants a sucking kiss to my inner thigh. Tug roughly on his hair when he bites the other.

“Meyer,” I try for firm. “I need—I need to touch you. I want to make you feel good.”

“I know what you need, angel. I’ll take care of you. I just need to slow this down a little, seeing as you tried to kill me when I walked in here.”

I grin. “I’ll be more mindful of your aging, frail heart in the future.” I put the hand not gripping his hair against his chest. He swats the side of my ass lightly, shaking his head and flexing his jaw when I gasp sharply on that bit of contact.

Then, in one smooth, swift movement, he falls to his knees and buries his face between my thighs.

His first kiss is a hungry, hot swipe before a satisfied hum vibrates through him. A delicate pull that has my head falling back against the wall with a thump, has my hands clambering behind me to grip the edge of the dresser for purchase. A tight whimper peels through me when I catch sight of our reflection in the full length mirror across the room, ankles crossed between his shoulder blades. He works me over with a steady rhythm, a battering ram to my senses, until my breaths start to puff out in time with it. Every muscle coils tighter and higher until I’m teetering on the edge, holding onto it by my fingernails.

And then he stops.

I wrench my lids open in frustration with an undignified, needy sound. He smiles knowingly, seeing the full scope of the blissful agony he’s putting me through. Punishes me mercifully not a second later when he returns his mouth to me and takes me thoroughly apart.