Page 28 of Tempest

I would have turned her around then, lifted her onto the counter to fuck her face-to-face. Eye to eye, equals in our need for each other. I’d have ripped that flowery dress right off her, had her bare before me when I thrust in the first time. She’d have pulled at my hair to keep my face close, her heels digging in to my ass as she wrapped them tightly around me.

My hand tries to imitate the pressure of her pussy, but it can’t, so I dive deeper into my made-up vision. Odette’s head thrown back, her neck there for me to nibble and suck. Fuck, I’d sink my teeth in as deep as my cock, pinning her to me.

We’d have come together, her name on my lips and only mine on hers.

I come in my hand at the thought of her stuffy, professor boyfriend watching as I make her come harder than he ever fucking could.

9

Odette

Mundane.

That’s how I’d describe sex with Preston. Dull somehow feels more insulting. Mundane has a more romantic flare to it.

Either way, that’s what it was. He’s a nice man. Too nice, too sweet and gentle. We could be great friends; he’d be an exceptional one, I think. He’s interesting, intelligent, curious about the world.

“So, it’s not a love match?” Vanessa asks. We’re having brunch together, along with George, since he leaves tomorrow for another business trip.

“What is love, darling?”

“By definition,” George answers, “an intense feeling of deep affection, or great pleasure in something.”

“Then, no. It’s not a love match,” I confirm. “The pleasure was good, at best.”

George laughs, while Vanessa only looks concerned.

“He can learn to be a better lover,” she says.

“He’s forty-two, and not my student.”

She laughs. “I’m aware. But he’s been married since he was twenty. Perhaps he didn’t have the opportunity to learn. His wife is very reserved.”

“You’ve met her?”

“A few times, she’s quiet. Timid, even.”

“My exact opposite.”

“Sounds like it,” George says. “If he couldn’t let loose with you, he might be a lost cause.”

“Whose side are you on?” Vanessa asks him.

“Odette’s,” he answers. “I want her to find her match just as much as you do, my love. We only disagree on who that may be.”

“Who would you suggest?” I ask him, curious as to why either of them puts any thought into my lack of love life. They weren’t always like this, but they see the changes I’m trying to make, and I think they believe that means I must be ready for love. I’m not as convinced as they are.

“Well, Vanessa would line up an endless array of scholars and intellectuals. I, on the other hand, would lean toward a more rugged type. Someone good with their hands, not just their mind. Someone who would challenge you, make you brave.”

“I am brave,” I challenge, pointing my fork at him as if to threaten him to say it again.

“In so many ways, yes,” he agrees. “But you aren’t brave enough to be vulnerable again. Preston doesn’t strike me as the man who can encourage that out of you. He’s more mouse to your cat, a plaything. A game.”

“Aren’t they all,” I tease. I do treat the men in my life like toys. And like a toddler, I get bored with them so easily. None get to know me, none break through my shell.

Not since him.

“Someone more like that hockey player friend of yours,” George suggests like he’s reading my thoughts.

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