“I was,” I agree. “But I’m over it now. On the anger scale of one to ten, I’m at a zero when it comes to you,” I tell her truthfully. It’s impossible to stay mad at her, no matter what she does. Finally getting my tongue and dick inside of her hot little pussy certainly helped take my anger down a few notches.
“Seriously?” she asks, lifting her eyes to mine in shock that I could calm down so quickly.
“Yeah,” I answer. Not wanting her to get her hopes up about a future with me, I add, “Just, um, remember what we talked about in my apartment. When I said this can’t be more than a friends with benefits situation, I meant it, okay?” It sucks to withhold the fact that I’m in love with her, that I care for her more than I did the woman I married, but it’s for the best.
“Okay,” Lucy replies. “I understand.”
“Good,” I reply before I reach over. Throwing my arm around her waist, I’m easily able to drag her over until her side is pressed against the front of my body. As I lean down to brush my lips over hers, my palm starts to slide up her top until I’m cupping one of her perky tits. Our tongues meet soft and unhurried several times before I eventually pull away.
Looking down at her relaxed face, I say, “Now it’s your turn to answer my questions.”
“Yeah? What do you want to know?” she asks with a smile as her fingers reach up to comb through the back of my hair.
“You had cancer?”
Her hand stills before she answers. “Yeah, so?”
“So? Why didn’t you tell me?” I ask.
“Because it’s done and over with,” she says with a sigh, avoiding eye contact with me, preferring to tug on my hair, pulling my mouth down to hers and stroking my tongue seductively as a distraction. It doesn’t work. Well, it does. My dick thickens against where it’s poking her thigh, but I’m not done with my line of questions yet.
“What kind of cancer did you have?”
“Endometrial,” Lucy replies. “Cancer cells had spread to my ovaries, so I had to have surgery to remove them and my uterus. I was lucky, though. I didn’t have to go through chemo or radiation, and it didn’t reach my bladder...”
“Lucky?” I repeat. “You had cancer in your twenties that took away your chance of being a mother. That’s not lucky; that’s devastating, baby.”
“It could’ve been worse. At least I’m still alive,” she says.
“And that’s when Barry cheated on you? When you were going through all of that?”
“Yes,” she answers, removing her fingers from my hair to trail her fingernails down my arm. “Ellie came to see me after surgery, and that’s when they met. Love at first sight. Then he knocked her up. What’s a girl to do?”
“Kick her ass and his,” I mutter.
“I just hope their kid looks like him,” Lucy says. “That’s all I ask of karma. And at least I got to meet you…”
Rather than contradict that statement, I roll on top of her small body and kiss her so hard I fear I may squash her into the mattress.
How can Lucy possibly think that meeting me has been a good thing? She came into my life at the worst possible time for herself.
But I can’t deny that she came into mine when I needed her most.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Lucy
* * *
Nash was as insatiable as I was throughout the night. There was no more talking, thankfully, after our conversation about his mixed signals and my cancer. Instead, there were only moans and pleas for more as we fucked hard between short naps. In the early morning hours, when my pussy got too sore to accommodate his big dick, we switched to oral, which was absolutely fine with me. I loved taking him in my mouth and would never get enough of his talented tongue.
But unfortunately, all good things must come to an end.
Around one in the afternoon, with my head on his chest, I reach up and stroke the side of his scruff jaw. “Nash? Babe, sorry to wake you, but it’s time to get up.”
“Too tired to move,” he grumbles, eyes still shut tight as he licks his lips. “Just sit on my face, baby. Ride my tongue again.”
“No, Nash,” I say with a giggle as my pussy tingles from the memories of earlier when I did straddle his face. Sitting up, I tell him, “The wedding’s in an hour, so we should probably shower and get ready.”
“But I’m comfortable here in bed,” he mutters, pulling me back down to his chest and holding me so tight I can’t escape. “Company is pretty damn good too. Do we have to go see my ex-wife get married to the fat fuck who cheated on you?”
“Yes,” I tell him. “There will be tons of alcohol at the reception if we survive the ceremony,” I add as an enticement since he seems hesitant to leave the room. “Unless you don’t want to see her…”
“Fuck her. Fuck them,” Nash says, finally cracking an eye open to look at me. “I’m good with it. Are you?”
“Yeah, I am,” I say confidently for the first time. “Besides, we need to let housekeeping in to change the sheets.”
“True enough,” he agrees with a gruff chuckle. “I love not using condoms, but I had forgotten how messy sex is without them.”
“No kidding,” I agree. “Come on, let’s shower together. If you can get it up, I’ll get on my knees and let you fuck my mouth again while we get clean.”
Nash goes from being a partially unconscious sleepyhead to wide awake when he jumps out of bed. I’m still laughing at his sudden burst of energy when he scoops me up, throwing me over his shoulder as he carries me to the bathroom.
Nash
* * *
Last night and this morning with Lucy have been the best time of my life. Memories I won’t ever forget.
I just hope they weren’t as unforgettable for her. I fear they were, which makes me selfishly happy and concerned at the same time.
While Lucy is finishing up in the bathroom, I pull out the hotel’s iron from the closet and go to work getting the wrinkles out of my black slacks and white dress shirt that she packed for me to wear for the wedding today. Hopefully they both still fit, because I honestly can’t remember the last time I wore either. My usual attire consists of a t-shirt, jeans and, of course, my cut.
I’ve just finished buttoning up my shirt that not only fits but is a little loose, when the bathroom door opens, and Lucy comes out in her blue floral dress.
“You look beautiful,” I tell her.
“Thanks,” she smiles, her lips curving while her cheeks blush a darker red. “You clean up pretty well yourself.”
“Cut or no cut?” I ask even though I feel naked without the leather and patches.
“Always wear your cut,” she replies, her smile broadening when she picks up the worn leather and holds it up for me to put my arms through. Once it’s on, she runs her hands down either side of the opening over my chest. “It’s who you are.”
“Thanks,” I reply, happy that she just understands that without argument or bitching.