Dirty

Someone was mouth-breathing seriously loud. How uncouth. Muscles kept twitching, inside me, in my thick thighs. Poor shell-shocked things. They’d probably never be the same. He’d broken me for all others. I was sure of it. And I didn’t even have the energy to care.

He wiped his face off on the sheet and then pulled me into his arms, spooning me. Getting comfortable and settling in for the night. The scent of my come still lingered on him. His lips were still damp as he kissed my shoulder, the back of my neck. I don’t know if I’d ever been with someone quite as raw. Not vulgar, just open, relaxed, and matter-of-fact about sex and into all of my body.

“Apology accepted,” I said.

“Good.”

“Be warned, though, I’m practicing to become a better feminist.” I rolled onto my back, staring at his luminous eyes in the dark. “The whole Chris thing was a kick to the clit, but I’m working hard to set myself straight now. I own this body. My fate is mine.”

“Okay,” he said slowly, meshing his fingers with mine. “Where is this going?”

“I just want you to know, I will not be falling slave to your devil dick and demon tongue. No matter how good they are.”

“Hmm.” He rubbed his mouth against my shoulder. “Is that your way of saying you like how I fuck?”

“Yes. Basically.”

“Well … I’m glad,” he said eventually. “And I’d like you to know that I consider myself a feminist too. You are more than my equal. But with all due respect, I think maybe you should consider getting some sleep now. This body that you own is probably going to feel bad in the morning. I’m a little worried that you’re fated to have a hangover tomorrow.”

Sadly, the man made sense. I snuggled into him, closing my eyes. “I’m going to miss you when you’re gone.”

A squeeze and another kiss to the back of my neck.

“The town was so pretty as Boyd was driving me home. We went by the scenic route through downtown.”

“Downtown’s in the opposite direction,” he said with a smile in his voice.

“I know, but Boyd didn’t seem to mind and I just felt like seeing it. All of the lights and the trees, the water. It’s all so beautiful, you know?”

“I know,” he said, sounding a little sad.

“I started wondering what it will be like when the trees change color, when it snows.”

“Cold,” he deadpanned.

“You don’t say.”

A snicker.

“At any rate, I got thinking and … I’m not sure I want to leave after all.” I tried to organize my thoughts in a straight line, but my brain was all orgasm- and alcohol-befuddled. It wasn’t easy. “See, part of me wants to spend the rest of my days at least two states away from the Delaneys at any given time. But the other part of me is all ‘you take your problems with you wherever you go.’ The truth is, my issues aren’t really about Chris and company, they’re about me not being happy with my life and making bad choices. That’s not going to change just because my address does.”

Nothing.

“What do you think?”

He sighed. “Honestly, people have long memories. There’s a lot to be said for starting over somewhere new.”

“My parents had that attitude and it never quite worked for me. And here … I’m finally starting to feel like I’ve found the place where I belong.”

Vaughn didn’t answer and a sneaky unwelcome little voice suggested he didn’t want me here. However he felt about the place, it would always be his hometown. He had family and friends here, a history. For certain at some time in the future he’d be back around and if I was still here … well, running into ex-lovers could be awkward as hell.

“You don’t have to make any decisions right now,” he said. “Rest.”

Everything was quiet for a good long time before I heard him speak again. My mind was on the edge of sleep, so it might have even been a dream. A delusion.

“I’m going to miss you too,” a voice whispered.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Friday morning, Vaughan sat out on the back patio steps, basking in the sun, playing his guitar. No shirt on, which was definitely my preferred attire for his upper body. Same went for the lower. A pad and pen were at his side, like last night. I remembered it all … vaguely.

Did he really say he was going to miss me? Maybe he had and it didn’t mean anything major. You could run out of ketchup and miss it without a crushing sense of deprivation overwhelming your life. It was, after all, just a condiment. I might well be the current pick of the condiments in his life. But he’d still eat a hamburger without me.