Ruin Me (6 page)

My eyes are wide, unseen by his closed ones. I watch him, his chest and stomach and arms, watch what he’d look like if we were allowed to screw. I feel him faltering above me. His breaths come in harsh gasps, punctuating each thrust. His cock pumps fast and hard and I feel his balls smack the backs of my fingers. We need more spit, but I’m afraid to interrupt him and shatter the illusion.

“Fuck me, Patrick.”

“I am. I am.”

“You’re so big. Give me your big cock, Patrick.”

He’s falling apart—before my eyes, in my hands, all around me.

“Oh God. Here I come, Robin.”

“Give me what I want, Patrick. Give it to me.”

His voice becomes a deep, mean groan. His hips clench and I feel his cock shudder, watch the hot cream lashing my belly until he’s empty.

Chapter Four

For a long time Patrick and I lie on his bed, staring at the ceiling, catching our breath. I worry he might do the manly thing and fall asleep, leaving me in an awkward position where I’ll have to sneak out, stressed about Jay stuck waiting at home, chewing his fingers off, dying for me to get back.

But Patrick gets up first, alleviating my worries. He tosses me a hand towel to clean myself up and I watch him wander into the living room. A clear and precise pang of guilt stabs me. It’s weird, in light of what I’ve just done, but I feel really shitty that I watched
Jeopardy!
with him. I watch it with Jay most nights. I push the feeling away as Patrick comes back in, dressed.

I sit up and smile at him as he buckles his belt. “Thanks,” I say.

He nods. “That scratch your itch?”

“I couldn’t tell you for sure just yet, but I feel pretty fantastic right now.”

He sits down on the edge of the bed, making me slump against him as the mattress tilts. He presses his lips to my temple. “When’s your man expecting you home?”

“No particular time. But I should head out soon.” I feel him nod. “Thanks for having me over.”

Patrick stands and I follow suit, suddenly shy. I find my panties then pad into the living room to get my dress and shoes back on.

“You should keep the leftovers,” I say to him when he passes me to stoke the fire. “Practice for Thanksgiving.”

He doesn’t reply. He finishes with the hearth and crosses the room, stopping right in front of me. He’s troubled in some way I can’t pinpoint.

I start to say thanks again but his mouth shuts me up, covering mine, the kiss brief but deep.

“I hope I wasn’t too rough or anything,” Patrick says when he steps back a pace. “Earlier, I mean.”

“You were exactly how I’d hoped you’d be.” And more, I amend to myself, picturing his bare body.

He smiles. “You talk a lot dirtier than I expected.”

I offer a guilty grin and shrug.

He slides his hands into his pockets. “You think this is the end of all this?”

I can suddenly read his expression—that uncertain end-of-the-first-date look.

“That’s up to Jay.” I decide to tell Patrick something I’m not ready to admit to the man I’ve got waiting at home. I put my hands on his chest, running them over his sweater, studying the little white flecks in the gray wool. “I’m probably never going to stop wanting you.”

One of his black eyebrows twitches. “Oh.”

“Either Jay’s going to put a stop to all this or you are,” I say. “I think you’re both insane for agreeing to it in the first place, so no hard feelings when one of you finally comes to your senses.” Weird, I think, how the two men I’m most attracted to are bossy in bed but do my irrational bidding so willingly while everyone’s clothes are still on.

“Well,” Patrick says, “I enjoyed tonight. If your man stays nuts, I’d be happy to see you again this way.”

“Deal.”

“And tell him not to worry, I know you’re never gonna leave him or anything like that. I still know my role.”

“Thanks. I’ll let you know how he takes it. Maybe—oh wait, Thanksgiving is next week.” I scowl to myself, thinking how quick holidays sneak up when you’re busy orchestrating your inaugural infidelity. “Are you going to your mom’s?”

“Dear God, no.”

“Oh right.”

He shakes his head. “I told her I’m not setting foot inside her house until she gets it cleaned up. Which’ll be never. But I’m driving up there on Thursday and we’re going to my aunt’s for dinner.”

“That’ll be nice.”

“It’ll be hell,” he says. “She gets all bent out of shape when she’s away from her junk, now. She’s convinced somebody’s going to break in and steal things.”

“That sounds rough,” I say.

“I’m used to it. What about you?”

“We’re going to Michigan to see Jay’s parents and sister on Wednesday. Should be fun. I guess I’ll see you after next weekend, sometime.”

He nods and while he takes the dishes and wine bottle into the kitchen, I get my coat and scarf on. We meet at the front door.

“Is it weird if I kiss you again?” he asks.

“Probably. Well, wait, no. I mean, I’m here with permission to act on my feelings for you,” I say. “So I guess that’s fine.”

I catch his tongue flick to the corner of his mouth as he thinks. “These your rules or your man’s?”

I shrug and smile, dopey. “Hell if I know.”

“You’re a weird girl, Robin.”

I shrug again.

Patrick leans down and kisses me, slow and sensual but no tongue. I sneak a peek, curious if his eyes are closed. They are. If he hadn’t made me come fifteen minutes ago I’d probably faint. As it is I feel my legs buckle a little but I keep it together. He pulls away and I watch his lips purse.

I fish my keys out my coat pocket. “I’ll let you know what he says.”

“Can I ask you something?”

I nod. “Sure.”

“Why would you want to be with some shithead who’d sleep with some other man’s woman?” he asks, squinting a dark eye at me.

I bunch my scarf in my fist, trying to find a poetic justification and failing. I think about how Jay might answer. “I don’t feel like I have any choice,” I say. “But you’re the one I need, so I guess I’m just lucky you’re enough of a shithead to go there with me.”

Patrick laughs. I can’t remember the last time I heard him laugh like that. Five years at least, if ever.

I pull the door open. “I’ll see you in a week or two, shithead.”

“Drive safe, Robin. Enjoy your holiday.”

* * * * *

I guess Jay wasn’t too frantic while I was gone. I close the door behind me at nine o’clock exactly, and he’s asleep on the couch with a book on his sternum. His eyes open as I sit down by his feet. I see a couple beer bottles on the side table.

“Hey,” he says, cute and bleary.

“Hey, you. What’d I miss?”

“You’re looking at it,” he says. “Me and my Friday night shenanigans.” He swings his legs to the floor and sits up. “You wanna tell me about it?”

“Let me pee first.”

When I get back, Jay’s in the kitchen watching a bag of popcorn spinning in the microwave. I hug him from behind and wonder if he can smell the enemy on me.

“You’re awful squishy,” he says. “Have a good time?”

I talk into his shirt, muffled. “I did. Thank you.” I realize with a strange start that I’ve just cheated on someone, properly and thoroughly, for the first time in my life. I’m not sure having permission excuses it all that much. The feeling reminds me of the first time I was in a fender-bender, one that I caused. Before then I’d never expected I’d be at fault for such a thing and I remember grieving that day as a hunk of my potential for being a perfect person crumbled away. If I’d known about all this back then, I’d have been a lot easier on myself about denting somebody’s stupid bumper.

The microwave beeps and Jay dumps the popcorn in a mixing bowl. I follow him back to the couch where he clicks on the television but keeps the volume down. It’s what we do sometimes if we need to have a fight, or what constitutes a fight in our hyper-functional relationship. Neither of us actively watches the TV but it gives us something to focus on while we attempt to articulate whatever emotional gristle we’re gnawing through.

Jay stares at the images flashing by on the screen. “So. Tell me what happened.”

“You still want to hear about it?”

“Yeah. Tell me all the horny details,” he says, and tucks into the popcorn.

“Okay…but don’t ask me to compare you guys or anything, all right?”

“I won’t.”

“Good. Well…” I sputter a breath out. “I picked up some food at the deli and went over there. And we had some wine… I watched
Jeopardy!
with him,” I say, cringing. “I’m sorry. I wish I hadn’t.”

Jay meets my eyes. “Why not?”

“Isn’t that, like, our thing?”

“
Jeopardy!
’s as ubiquitous as saying you guys drank wine. Don’t worry about it.”

“Oh good.”

His gaze returns to the TV. “What else happened?”

“Well, he made a fire, and we ate dinner and drank wine and kissed and messed around on his couch.”

“Was it romantic?” he asks.

“No, it was more like friends, actually. Even though there was a fire and wine, it didn’t feel like he was seducing me or anything. We just ate dinner and screwed around.” I leave out the part where Patrick kissed me goodnight.

Jay sets the bowl down and grabs a paper towel, wiping his fingers. He turns to face me. His salty lips sting my own, still savaged from Patrick. We make out for a couple minutes and it’s as much a relief as it is a turn-on. His mouth slides to my neck.

“Tell me exactly what you did.” He sounds horny as all get-out. Awesome.

“We kissed, first, and then he got on top of me.”

I feel Jay’s breath flare hot and moist on my throat. “What else?”

“We kind of dry-humped for a while, and he took his shirt off and I touched him. Above the belt.”

Jay’s hand cups my breast as his teeth graze my skin.

“And my dress was up around my waist and he rubbed against me, through his pants.”

“Did you like it?”

“Yeah. It was pretty fucking hot.”

Jay sits back and yanks me into his lap just like the other night. “Then what?” He pulls me close so I can feel how excited he is. Dear God, who is this man?

“I told him I wanted to see it, so he let me. And I touched him.”

Jay pulls the V of my dress down and kisses the tops of my breasts. “Is he big?”

“Yeah, he’s real big.” I hold my breath.

“What did you want to do to him?”

“Everything. I wanted to suck him, really bad. But we didn’t do any of that. I just stroked him.”

“What else?” he asks.

“We went to his bedroom and got our clothes off. Except my bra.”

“Did you want him?”

“Yeah,” I breathe. Jay’s lips take my ear in a way that always makes me go feral. “I told him I wanted to watch him. You know, touch himself. So I lay down and he got between my legs—”

I’m distracted as Jay scoots me back a few inches, undoes his pants and takes his cock out. I study his face, the familiar, glazed look I know and love so well.

“Keep going,” he says.

“I touched him, and he touched me. And he asked me what I used to think about, back when I visited him. Before you,” I add, probably too quickly.

“What did you say?”

“I told him I used to think about sucking him off in the parking lot, that night he saved me.” I blush, still not entirely comfortable with that fantasy.

“Yeah?”

“I didn’t want it that night, of course. But I used to think about it.”

“What did he say?” Jay asks.

“Well, he told me about how he used to fantasize about getting home after he was released and finding me there, waiting for him.”

“Did he want you, tonight?”

I nod. “But he never asked me to. He knows you’re calling the shots.”

“Fucking right,” Jay says and his hand speeds up.

“Then I played with my clit and he fingered me, and I came.”

“Did you jerk him off?” he asks.

“He touched himself, first. Then after I came he made me hold my hands like this.” I wrap both my hands around Jay, thumbs on top. “And he sort of fucked my fists, with his eyes closed, like he was imagining we were doing it.” I run my hands up and down Jay’s shaft.

“Did he come?”

“Yeah, he did.”

“Did you wish you were allowed to screw him?” Jay asks.

“Yeah. But I wouldn’t have.” I think I hide my lack of confidence in this statement pretty well.

“I bet he wanted to fuck you,” he says. “I bet he was dying to, after he felt how tight and wet you are.”

“Only you get to do that, Jay.”

He takes my bait. He pushes me back on the couch and shoves my dress up my legs and yanks the crotch of my panties aside. He sinks in deep, my pussy wet from thoughts of both men.