The hockey season will be starting soon, and life will be crazy for me. I don't have any real close friends outside of my teammates, and my time is always limited between practices, games, and travel, but I know I'd always have some time to keep up with how you're doing.
So yeah... regrets are subjective, and I've decided to wipe out that one regret I had. I got your email from Linc and so I am reaching out. Ball is in your court, Irish Lass. You now have my email. If you ever get adventurous, my cell phone is 602-555-1448. Your sweet Irish accent would not be hard to listen to.
Take care,
Zane
As soon as I finish reading, I realize my palms are damp with sweat and my adrenaline is spiking through me. How can I feel such a moment of thrill and elation just from reading an email?
My cheeks heat as I read back through it again, imagining the way his face was, in fact, between my legs. He went down on me as soon as he shut my bedroom door and divested me of all my clothing. He was like a tornado, his hands whipping all around me as he pulled everything off. He was still fully clothed when he pushed me down onto the bed, spread my legs, and brought his mouth to me.
It was the first, but not the last time, that I had screamed out, thankful that Linc and Ever's bedroom was on the other end of the house. Zane growled in approval over my vocal demonstration and attacked me with his lips and tongue. I came for the second time supremely fast, my thighs clamping onto his head and probably strangling the poor man as he gently licked at me as I fell off my high.
God, he was amazing in bed. I've never been with another man before that was so focused on a woman's body. If we weren't actually fucking, and if we weren't talking, Zane's mouth was always busy on my skin. Kissing or licking... sometimes, just rubbing his cheek over my skin while he hummed with approval and murmured, "So soft."
Sex with Zane Kavanaugh was unparalleled.
It won't be able to be reproduced.
I'll never have that again in my life.
We live on different continents, and we won't have anything between us but talk.
No touch... just conversation and friendship.
It takes me less than a second to click on the reply button--my mind made up. I may not be able to have with Zane what I really want, but I will take the friendship he is offering. I like him... a lot. As a person, as a friend, but sadly again never as a lover.
But this would be enough. It would have to be.
To: Zane Kavanaugh
From: Cady Dunne
Subject: Who Needs Regrets
Date: August 30, 2014
Shock probably isn't a good enough word over seeing your email in my inbox, but you'll be happy to know that it was a good kind of shock. You know... like the type you receive when you walk into your house unsuspecting that your family is throwing you a surprise party for your 21st birthday. You first get that jolt of surprise, followed by a moment where your stomach bottoms out, which precedes a sharp scream that tears out of your throat, then supreme joy over realizing what was going on.
Not that I have any experience with that.
That's certainly how I felt when I saw your email.
Yes, I would love to continue on a friendship with you. I can imagine your schedule is hectic, but I'm here to listen to any tirades over a loss (not that I expect you'll be losing many games) or if you want to dish about the latest celebrity gossip. I'm really not sure what a friendship with you would entail, seeing as how you would officially be my very first male-friend-that-I-had-sex-with-before-I-decided-to-become-friends-with-him. It puts you in a solely unique category, and I figure this will evolve over time. Who knows... maybe I'll be able to piss and moan to you over my period cramps and you can confess to me your secret love of romance novels or something. I'll be your confidant so to speak.
Well, I'm off to get some dinner and then head back to bed to sleep off this jet lag. Classes start tomorrow, and I have to appear somewhat intrigued by what the professors will be talking about.
Cheers,
Cady
I sit back in my chair and sip at my tea, letting my eyes roam over my response a few times. I want it to sound friendly... because that's what this is. A friendship.
But I don't hit the send button yet because a part of me is a bit dissatisfied with what I'm not saying. Zane clearly had no problem referencing the intimacy we shared. He just laid it out there... the fact that his face was between my legs and he was balls deep inside of me. Those images flit through my mind, making my skin feel warm and flushed. He wants a friendship, but he shared intimate memories.
Perhaps I should do the same... just so he knows that I very much loved everything that we did together that night.
I may end up driving myself crazy by engaging in this foolishness, but I just can't help myself. I start typing.
P.S. I remember fondly and in a totally squirm-in-my-seat kind of way what you did to me with your face between my legs. It was transcendental, and I will be revisiting that memory on many a cold and lonely night.
My lips twitch, and then I smile full blown. Let him think on that and consider what I'm feeling right now. A friendship across this distance, after what we shared with each other, is going to be difficult.
It's going to be interesting, but damn... there's going to be frustration.
Chapter 4
Zane
September
I hear the chime indicating the plane has reached above ten-thousand feet, so I reach down to my backpack under the seat in front of me, pulling out my laptop. Turning it on so I can log onto the airline's complimentary Wi-Fi, I patiently wait for it to boot up while letting my mind wander.
To Cady.
We've kept up a steady stream of emails back and forth to each other the last few weeks, and every time I hit the button to send her another communication, I find my patience wearing thin waiting for her response.
Somewhere in our decision to become email friends, I discounted the fact that I would grow closer to her the more we got to know each other. It never occurred to me that even with Cady sitting across the Atlantic Ocean, I would start to feel something for her despite the distance. In fact, I never really thought this "friendship" would amount to anything when I first suggested it. I wrote to her that first time because I was still caught up in the amazing after-effect feelings of a fantastic fuck.
Correction... fucks... as in plural.
Because I hit that more than once, each time better than the time before.
Yeah... I star
ted this stupid idea of maintaining a "friendship" with her, but I never really thought it was going to last. I figured the next piece of ass that came my way would have my mind cleared of Cady's soft skin and the delicate Irish lilt in her voice. I knew the next time I got in a girl's panties, I would forget all about the numerous times I blew my load on that one perfect night with Cady. I was absolutely positive that she'd never be able to hold my interest for very long, especially when I couldn't touch her... kiss her... fuck her. That's what I needed and that's what I wanted, but yet... I wait each day, wondering what her next email to me will say. And the truth of the matter is... I haven't been with another woman since she left.
It's fucking with my head... the way my feelings are starting to morph and distend into something that I don't even recognize about myself.
Whereas Zane Kavanaugh basically liked to fuck his way through women, the man that looks back in the mirror at me now finds pleasure in hearing about Cady's day, or the crazy antics of her best friend, Teagan, who is apparently like a female version of me... or so Cady says. I want to hear all about the pathetic guy that sits beside her in her Educational and Social Policy class, and whether or not he's grown a pair of balls big enough to ask out the girl that sits on the other side of him. He apparently whines to Cady about it quite a bit, and it's hilarious the way she tries to buck him up to no avail. She's made it her mission to fortify his backbone this module--they call them modules, not semesters--and get him a date.
My home screen appears on my Mac, and I quickly hit the mail icon. It's not until my breath gushes out in relief over seeing an email from Cady that I realize I had needed to hear from her a little too much. So, in order to prove to myself that my entire existence isn't focused on hearing from the black-haired, blue-eyed temptress, I purposely ignore her email and scroll through the others.
That lasts all of about thirty seconds. Then I'm clicking on IrishLass1990, so I can get my daily dose of Cady.
To: Zane Kavanaugh
From: Cady Dunne
Subject: Victory At Last
Date: September 12, 2014