Dear Bridget, I Want You

  “I didn’t say that. I just thought it would be nice to introduce you two.”

  “Great.”

  A half-hour later, Jonathan Leopold joined us for dinner in the screened-in Florida room. We enjoyed the Mediterranean food while a warm, evening breeze blew in. You could see Jonathan’s house from my mother’s; it was just a stone’s throw away. It made me happy to know that he looked out for her often.

  He seemed like a great guy. We’d all gotten a good laugh when he ran around trying to help Brendan catch a small lizard that was hopping around the room.

  Jonathan was a real estate agent who’d lost his wife to cystic fibrosis five years ago. They’d never had kids. He was smart, charismatic, and darkly handsome—everything you could want in a man, really. The only problem was that Simon was infiltrating all of my thoughts. So, I wasn’t giving Jonathan the attention he probably deserved.

  Dinner was pleasant but ended on the early side.

  Deciding to give it another go, I accepted Jonathan’s invitation to lunch the following day. He ended up taking Brendan and me to his favorite restaurant by the beach, and we spent the afternoon frolicking by the water. Still…I felt nothing. My mind was too focused on Simon to really enjoy Jonathan’s company. I pretty much ruled out anything happening between us after that. Not that it could have really worked out anyway, with my being in Rhode Island and Jonathan living down in Florida. But I suppose a fling couldn’t have hurt me, under different circumstances. I just couldn’t get myself to want that with him. Even though I knew focusing on Simon at this point was not helping me, I couldn’t stop my feelings. Sadly, even masturbating to thoughts of Simon seemed more appealing than actual sex with Jonathan.

  That night, while putting Brendan to bed, I decided to check his phone. What eight-year-old has a phone? One whose mother was trying to compensate for his lack of a father during Christmastime. My son assured me he would only make calls in an emergency. He used it to play with his apps and watch YouTube. He didn’t have any social media accounts, of course, but he’d often take pictures and text them to me or Ben’s mother. Brendan always used voice to text so that his messages didn’t contain typos.

  As of late, he’d been texting Simon—a lot.

  In fact, he’d apparently sent Simon a photo diary of our entire day.

  Shit.

  There were picture texts of Jonathan and me walking on the beach, taken from behind. He caught another snapshot of me laughing at something that Jonathan was saying.

  Shit!

  Simon: Hey, buddy. Interesting pictures. Who’s that guy?

  Brendan: That’s grandma’s neighbor, Jonathan. He took us out to lunch. He looks at Mom like Miss Santoro looks at you. Yuck!

  Simon: Wow, well keep an eye out on your mother for me, okay?

  Brendan: Okay!

  Shit. Shit. Shit.

  Why did I even care if Simon saw these? But, I did. I knew enough to know from the brevity and tone of his response that Simon was upset. Don’t tell me how I knew that from a simple sentence, but I did. I could only imagine what that would have felt like if Brendan had sent me the same photo of Simon and some woman.

  We had two more days left here in Florida. It didn’t feel like I could wait that long to explain this to Simon. I felt like we needed to talk about more than just Jonathan. I didn’t even know what I would say. I just needed to see him, needed to clarify things once and for all and also make a decision about our living arrangement.

  That night, while Brendan and my mother slept, I called the airline and changed our ticket.

  We’d be flying home tomorrow.

  I emptied the drawer of all my boxers. Just the essentials for now. I would have to come back gradually for the rest of my things.

  Calliope gave me shit when I told her I needed to crash with her and Nigel for a while. Mainly, she was mad because I wasn’t being frank with her as to the exact reason why I was moving out of Bridget’s. I assured her it would only be temporary until I could find another place. I already had two appointments to see apartments in Providence.

  I still needed to decide how to address my moving out with Bridget and especially Brendan, but I knew I couldn’t spend another night here. It wasn’t fair to her, and quite honestly, given my reaction to seeing the photos that Brendan had sent, moving out would also be in my own best interest.

  I fucking lost it, and it wasn’t pretty. I’d been in the middle of a hectic shift and was barely able to function the rest of the day.

  When she’d first arrived down to Florida, I was bloody loving flirting with her over text. And even though I knew I should’ve been taking advantage of the separation more productively, I found myself counting the days until her return.

  But when Brendan sent me those pictures from their day out, I was gutted. It had taken me several minutes to even respond to the poor kid.

  Seeing her with that guy—it put me over the edge. He looked older, like someone ready to settle down. That was exactly what she needed. Yet, I couldn’t get over my own selfish anger, which was irresponsible and unfair. I had an urge to get on a plane and interrupt whatever was going on.

  So utterly disappointed in myself for even considering that, I came to the conclusion that the only option was to physically remove myself from this living situation. If I couldn’t change my feelings, then I could, at the very least, change my environment.

  It was now or never. Once she returned, I wouldn’t ever have the bollocks to do it.

  Zipping my suitcase, I heard a car door shut outside. I looked out the window, which was covered in droplets of rain.

  It was Bridget. Fuck. What was she doing home?

  The front door slammed shut, and then came the sound of her footsteps nearing my room.

  My body went rigid as I braced for her arrival.

  She appeared at the doorway, looking sunkissed and fucking gorgeous.

  “Simon. You’re here. We need to talk.”

  “What are you doing here, Bridget?”

  She leaned her neck to see behind me and noticed the large black suitcase.

  “What’s going on? Why is there a suitcase?”

  “I thought it would be easier if I—”

  “Moved out before I came back? You weren’t even going to discuss it with me?”

  “Of course, I was going to tell you.” I looked down at her neck and could see a bit of the tan line at her shoulder. “Shit, Bridget, I wasn’t expecting you back today.”

  “Clearly.”

  “Where’s Brendan?”

  “I dropped him off at Ben’s mother’s for the night before heading home. I wanted the house quiet so I could talk to you. But apparently it was your intention not to be here when I came back.”

  “You came home a day early to talk to me?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  Her face was turning red in anger. “Stupidity, apparently.”

  “No.” I walked toward her, despite my better judgment and demanded, “Tell me why.”

  “I saw that Brendan had sent you photos that made it look like something was going on with my mother’s neighbor, Jonathan. I didn’t want you to get the wrong idea. I know that shouldn’t matter to me, but it does. I only took him up on his offer to take us out to lunch by the beach. That was it. There wasn’t any chemistry, Simon. I haven’t been able to feel anything for anyone but you. That’s really scaring me.”

  I looked up at the ceiling and expelled a breath.

  Fucking relief.

  Nothing happened between them.

  Relief consumed me. And that was not good, because it shouldn’t have mattered so damn much.

  “You were on the fucking beach in my bikini with him. I just assumed something was going on.”

  Her eyes widened. “Your bikini?”

  Perhaps it was a Freudian slip, but I owned up to it.

  “Yes. My fucking bikini.”

  In that moment, it was like my inhibitions just snapped. Running m
y thumb along the slightly burned skin below her neck, I said exactly what I was thinking.

  “It’s my bikini because every inch of the body inside of it belongs to me, whether you want that to be the case or not. I know how that struggle feels because it’s no different for me. As much as I would give anything to want someone else right now, my body only wants you. And quite frankly, Bridget, it’s not going to rest until it has you. I took her hand and placed it on my bare chest, sliding it down to my lower abs. “Feel this. You own this. Is that wrong? Maybe. But it’s yours.”

  She leaned in and shocked the shit out of me when she just started softly kissing my chest. The longer it went on, the less I cared about consequences. She was running her tongue along my skin now. I had zero fucks left to give.

  I dug my fingers into her hair, which was damp from the rain. “Let me fuck you, Bridget.” I wasn’t too proud to beg. “Please.”

  My chest was heaving, and my dick was painfully hard.

  She was trembling as she whispered over my chest, “Just one time.”

  No sooner than the words exited my mouth, Simon let out the breath he’d been holding. He lowered his mouth to my neck and groaned, devouring my skin like an animal who’d found his prey. Except I was willing prey.

  Feeling his mouth on my body for the first time was pure ecstasy. I worked to remove my damp jacket as fast as possible. Simon pulled at my shirt before slipping it over my head. He buried his mouth into my cleavage, tasting my tender skin and sucking so hard that I knew there would be marks tomorrow.

  He stopped for a few seconds to remove my bra, and that small break where his lips weren’t on me was torture. I just wanted his mouth back on me. His hazy stare landed on my bare breasts as he took them in, panting. Licking his lips, he lowered his head and began to teasingly flick his tongue at my nipple. The scruff of his chin felt like little pinpricks and only enhanced the sensation. The muscles between my legs tightened.

  Simon suddenly began to suck on my nipples harder. It hurt a little but felt so incredibly good at the same time. No man had ever been this rough with my body, and I didn’t realize the level of arousal I’d been missing.

  His thick hair felt like silk as I gripped the strands, pushing him deeper into my skin.

  His breath suddenly hitched as he pulled back before frantically unbuckling his belt. He slid off his jeans. Just as I reached for the elastic of his underwear, he placed his hand on my wrist, locking it in place.

  “You’re on the pill, right? I saw them in your bathroom once.”

  I nodded.

  “I can assure you I’m clean. If this is our one time, I’d like to feel you without a condom, if that’s okay.”

  “Yes,” I gasped.

  He let go of my wrist. “Do what you were going to do.”

  I lowered the elastic band and slid Simon’s boxer briefs down. My gaze stayed fixed on his beautiful cock. It was just as thick and hard as I’d remembered. Wrapping my hand around the warm, throbbing flesh, I began to jerk him off. I watched as his eyes rolled back and low grumbles of pleasure escaped him.

  He stopped me before pulling me close. He took a moment to smell my hair then suddenly lifted me up and over him. Placing my hand back over his shaft, he said, “Jerk me off, then put me inside of you.”

  With my legs wrapped around his waist, I reached down and pumped him into my hand. My clit was aching with need. When I couldn’t resist any longer, I stopped stroking him and placed his slick cock at my opening. He was looking down so that he could watch the moment that he entered me.

  The feel of his thick crown stretching my entrance caused a pleasurable, burning sensation. Just as he’d begun to penetrate me, he very suddenly pushed all the way inside.

  “Fuuuuck. I couldn’t help it. I’m sorry,” he said as he began to fuck me.

  My hips moved over him.

  “Oh, fuck, Bridget. That’s it. Ride me,” he breathed. “You feel so fucking good.”

  No longer able to form words, I grinded around his cock. With my arms wrapped around his neck, I rode him hard as he guided my movements with his hands on my ass.

  “Ride me harder, Bridget. Ride me harder. Look at you. You’re so fucking beautiful with me inside of you.”

  I’d never had sex from this angle. I moved my hips in a circular motion rubbing my ass against the root of his cock while he was balls deep inside of me.

  “Slow down,” he hissed. “I almost came. You feel too good.”

  Simon then carried me over to the bed. Pulling out of me, he placed me down flat on my back. He hovered over me on all fours, nudging my legs open with his knee. Letting out a deep sigh into my ear, he reentered me and began to kiss me passionately. The kiss actually made my heart break because it opened up a level of intimacy that hadn’t been there moments ago. This was supposed to be hardcore sex, and I was trying to keep my emotions out of it.

  I squeezed my muscles, tightening myself around him.

  He moved his mouth away from my lips.

  “Do that again. Squeeze your pussy around my cock. Swallow it up.”

  When I followed his command, he thrust into me with more force. He began to kiss down my neck before landing on my breasts. He took my nipple gently between his teeth and spoke huskily into my skin, “I love seeing my marks on you.”

  Every time he spoke dirty, I became even more revved up.

  “Tell me what you want, Bridget.”

  “I want you to fuck me harder.”

  “Wrap your legs around my back.”

  After I did just that, I could feel him even deeper at this angle. I loved watching his perfect chest and abs as he moved in and out of me. His hair was a sexy, rustled mess, half-covering his smoldering eyes. In that moment, he truly had never looked hotter to me.

  The slick sounds of our arousal and the slapping of our skin was all you could hear.

  He spoke through his thrusts, “I want you to think about me tomorrow when you feel me between your legs.”

  I began to move my hips, encouraging him to go even rougher on me. He took the hint and sped up his thrusts. He returned his mouth to my lips, his kiss an attempt to soften the blow of his ramming into me.

  As I savored the addicting taste of his tongue, I realized that I could never forget how this felt.

  He stopped kissing and looked me in the eyes. I almost wished he hadn’t. I could handle fucking him with my eyes half closed, but the connection was too painful.

  I closed my eyes.

  “Open your eyes, Bridget.”

  I opened them again and saw my reflection in his blue pupils.

  “Look at me until you come. Don’t close them again.”

  I finally let go of the hold that I had placed on my orgasm. My mouth opened into a silent scream as my pussy convulsed around him. Simon kept his eyes on me as the guttural sounds of his orgasm echoed through the room. The heat of his cum filled me. He kept moving in and out of me, gradually slowing his movements as he kissed me softly.

  “You’re amazing, Bridget. So goddamn amazing.”

  An enormous sadness suddenly replaced the euphoria of my orgasm. The empty feeling I knew would come was even stronger than I imagined—the fear stronger than I imagined. It was hard for me to admit to myself that even though I’d implied that it would be just one time, just sex—I wished it meant more.

  I wished he would stay. And I wished he would love me.

  Simon and I lay in his bed listening to the sound of the afternoon rainfall.

  I did something I almost never do; I took a nap—in his arms. Around 6PM, Simon was still sleeping when I threw one of his T-shirts over me and made my way to the kitchen.

  I poured a tall glass of water to quench my parched throat.

  A few minutes later, chills ran through me when I felt him at my back. Knowing he was behind me, my body came alive. The need for him was ten times worse now.

  He didn’t say anything as he gathered my hair to the side and kissed my neck.

/>   I was expecting him to say something, maybe talk more about his planned move or apologize for his plan to fuck and run.

  Instead, I closed my eyes and relished the feel of his lips on my body again. My clit started to throb as if our fucking had installed a magic button of recognition inside of me that turned on the moment he touched me.

  I could feel that his cock was fully rigid through his boxer briefs. He was rubbing against my ass.

  “I thought we said just once,” I muttered.

  “I need you again. Please. Just one more time,” he said against my neck as he pulled on my hair.

  I closed my eyes, conceding to my body.

  Still behind me, he lifted the T-shirt and soon I felt his fingers sink into my pussy.

  “You’re so wet right now. Or is that my cum still inside of you? So fucking hot, Bridget.”

  He pulled his fingers out of me and instead stuck one of them at the entrance to my ass. Using my own arousal as lubricant, he slowly pushed it inside, moving in and out ever so slowly.

  The sensation was nothing like I’d ever felt before.

  “Isn’t this what you said you wanted? My finger in your ass…”

  Panting, I answered, “Yes.”

  He spoke gruffly in my ear, “Actually, I believe what you wanted was my cock inside of your other orifice while I finger fucked your ass.”

  I could hear him sliding his underwear down. Within seconds, I felt the hot tip of his penis at my opening. He entered me in one swift movement. Fully inside, he began to fuck me in sync with the movement of his finger in my ass.

  I leaned against the counter, gripping the granite for dear life as he took me doggy-style in the middle of my kitchen. Catching a glimpse of his face in the reflection of the window over the sink, I realized he was just as lost in lust as I was.

  We both climaxed fast and furiously. As he came, he gripped my body, holding me in place while he slammed into me, once again filling me with his heat.

  When he stopped moving, he whispered, “I’m fucking addicted to you. I’m sorry.”