F is for Finn (Men of ALPHAbet Mountain)

“Olly,” she whispered, our faces so close our lips were almost touching.

I nodded, and she turned away from me, hobbling back into the living room. I took a deep breath, trying to gather myself as I listened to her go to him, sitting on the couch and letting him crawl into her arms.

“You had a nightmare, baby,” she said, speaking softly but firmly so it broke through the fog of his tears and terror. “It’s okay. Mommy’s here. You’re okay, Olly.”

I rallied, pulling myself together and taking stock of the situation. My lips were still tingling from where hers had touched, and I could still taste her on my tongue. But the moment had passed. She was needed right now, and nothing else mattered. As it should. She was a mother first.

Grabbing one of the containers, I opened the fridge and continued putting things away. I stacked them with like items, so meals were together. And I positioned them, so they were easy to get to. The ones likely to go bad first were in the front, and the two desserts went into the freezer. More lemon pie and a piece of the “WTF.” When everything was fully put away, I listened in again, hearing her whispering to Olly as he sniffled.

I slipped into the living room, grabbing my jacket and the empty grocery bag. She looked up briefly, but Olly was babbling, tears staining his little cheeks. I waved, and Wendy sort of nodded at me in acknowledgement.

“I’m going to get on out of here,” I half whispered. “We’ll talk later. Everything’s put away for you in the fridge.”

With that, I slipped out of the house and shut the door gently behind me. The cool air of the evening hit me, and I took a deep breath as I reached my car. So much had happened, and yet I was more confused about what it all meant now than I was before.

I definitely had a thing for her, and she absolutely seemed to be returning that interest. That was something I could stick in my cap and try to focus on as I started up the car. I didn’t want to think about the abrupt end to the evening or the growing knowledge that dating a woman with a small child would be far more difficult than anything I had ever tried since her priority would be her kid.

I pulled out onto the main road and headed home, my thoughts filled with the good things I was taking away. Namely, the way her body felt pressed into mine. The way her soft lips molded around my own. The way I felt like she wanted me to touch her, craved that touch, and if we had a few minutes more, the thought that she would have gladly accepted my hands on her body any way I wanted.

Wendy was so different from any woman I had ever known or dated. She was gorgeous, yes, prettier than anyone I had ever been out with for sure. But she was strong and toned and curvy in all the right places.

And I loved it.

Wendy didn’t strike me as the kind of woman who sat back and let life happen to her. She had decided, probably not long ago, that she was going to attack the world with a fiery determination and an earnest desire to put in a good day’s work every day of her life. It made her strong in ways that other people weren’t. She was impressive in every respect.

I couldn’t stop thinking about her. I couldn’t get her out of my mind or the way our bodies felt together. It felt right. It felt like it was designed to be that way. I wanted more. As much as I could get. As soon as I could get it.

I fought the urge to text her when I got home, not wanting to wake her up in case she had drifted back to sleep, or worse, wake up Olly. Instead, I got into my place, shut the door, grabbed a beer, and headed for my bathroom. I turned on the shower and disrobed quickly, taking deep swigs of the beer until I was under the hot water and emptying the cold glass.

Putting the glass on the sink, I went about getting myself clean and trying to ignore the thoughts that were slipping into my mind. But the more I tried to ignore them, the clearer the visions were, the more intense the still-vibrating buzz on my lips was, the more encompassing the smell of her perfume was in my nostrils, overriding the smell of soap and shampoo.

Finally, I gave in, and when I was fully lathered up, I let my hand slide down to wrap around the base of my cock. I was thick and hard and throbbing, dying for release. I let my head fall back as the vision of Wendy came back to me, stronger now than it had ever been.