The Sex Education of M.E. Read online

“Touch yourself,” I whispered, willing her to take the risk. I sucked in a breath as her fingers glossed over herself while I entered her.

  “That’s…so hot,” I gasped, watching her touch herself while I slipped inside her. I was so fucking hard, I needed to burst, but I wasn’t going until she went, especially when she was doing what I asked her to do.

  “Merek,” her voice hitched. “Merek,” she cried out again. “Merek!” she screamed, and I slammed into her, feeling my release the instant she squeezed around me. Despite the daylight, I saw stars, and I collapsed on top of her, trapping her arm between us.

  “Emme, I…” I didn’t know what to say. Marshall’s words haunted me. How could I let her go?

  “I know,” she said. “You need to go, don’t you?” I did, but it wasn’t what she thought. I suddenly wanted to tell her everything like she’d been open with me this afternoon, but there wasn’t time. I pulled out of her, and saw her shut down before me. It was a reminder that I needed to walk away, when I didn’t know how.

  It had been over a week since my day with Merek. I couldn’t call it a date. It can’t be considered a date when he doesn’t call, right? I didn’t have the heart to tell Gia that I’d failed. I’d failed at up-keeping the relationship of not having a relationship. I told him too much, and I scared him away. It was that simple. I hadn’t dated in twenty plus years and I still recognized when too much was shared.

  “Gia, he isn’t going to call,” I told her on the phone. “It’s fine.” I lied. Fine, a word he didn’t allow to describe how things were between us. It hadn’t ever been fine, it had been amazing, eye-opening, enlightening. I’d never experienced anything like it, especially the last time we were together. The way he took his time. The way he dragged it out. It was lazy and raw, and on some deeper level, I thought we connected. It wasn’t how much he filled me, as much as I thought he felt me. He felt my insides: the beat of my heart, the warmth of me holding him, the oxygen I breathed. But that was me, reading too many books about romance, which didn’t exist in real life.

  “I said too many things,” I added.

  Her breath caught. “Oh my God, did you tell him you loved him?” I could picture her covering her mouth in horror.

  “What? No,” I gasped. “No, of course not.”

  “Okay,” her voice lowered then hitched again. “You told him he had a small penis.” The horror again.

  “No,” I laughed despite not feeling jovial. “No, nothing like that, either.”

  “He has a huge one, doesn’t he?” she teased.

  “Gia…” I warned, not wishing to share my intelligence about the size of his private parts.

  “Okay, okay. Don’t worry. He’s going to call. Maybe … maybe he just has something going on,” she stuttered, recognizing the truth. She’d been with enough men to know the signs. A week without contact was too long.

  “Did you try to text him?” she suggested, but I didn’t have the courage, and she knew that. While I’d been the first to make contact, in jest, I hadn’t been the one to initiate any other dates. Arrangements. Oh, whatever, they were called.

  “I can’t, Gia. I just can’t do this to myself.” I sighed into the phone.

  “Em, I’m really sorry. I thought … I thought it would be different, honey.”

  What did she think would be different? I was about to ask when something caught my attention. I balanced the phone as I walked to the basement. It wasn’t a glamorous part of my home. A finished room had been made for the girls to collect their millions of toys but our laundry room off to the side was still cement block walls and a cold cement floor minus the rug area in front of the washer and dryer. Entering my laundry room, I took a whiff of air.

  Sniff, sniff. What the heck?

  “Emme, don’t cry,” Gia sighed.

  “I’m not crying.” Sniff, sniff. “Something doesn’t smell right in my laundry room.”

  “Try doing it,” Gia laughed.

  “Ha, ha. Very funny. Seriously, it smells … like natural gas or something in here. Really gassy.” Examining the tube behind the dryer, I noticed the dryer had shifted forward compared to the washing machine. The girls must have been doing laundry again, overfilling the machine.

  “Gia, I gotta go. I can’t get a look at this while I’m holding the phone.”

  “Em, don’t play around. Maybe you should call 911. It could be a gas leak.”

  “I don’t know. I don’t see anything, but the smell is strong. Really strong.”

  “Is your carbon monoxide detector going off?”

  “What carbon monoxide detector?” I laughed, knowing the smoke/carbon monoxide detector laid on the ledge heading down to the basement. It was there because the last time I cooked it went off and I had to take it down to stop it from beeping.

  “That’s not funny. I’m calling the fire department for you.”

  “No, Gia, I’m fi…” The line went dead. I stepped away from the dryer and headed back upstairs. The smell lingered and I opened the front door for air. I heard the sirens long before I saw any trucks and I shook my head in embarrassment. I’m certain it was just a loose hose or the dryer vent had disconnected. I needed to call a gas repairman, not the fire department.

  When the truck pulled up in front of my house, a second truck, more like an SUV, pulled up behind it. I was mortified at the amount of men who came toward me, one of which was suited up despite the heat.

  “What seems to be the trouble?” the first fireman asked.

  “I guess a gas leak or something. It’s coming from the basement,” I said, pointing in the direction of the front door. When I turned around, Merek stood before me. Dressed in uniform blue, his status showed on his shirt.

  “Commander, gas leak,” the fireman told Merek, who hadn’t moved.

  “I’ll show you where,” I suggested, stepping forward, but Merek’s hand wrapped around my arm.

  “No, you won’t. Murtaugh, head in.” His voice commanded.

  The man in gear and another fireman entered the front door, making their way to the basement on their own. Merek and I were left to stare at one another on my front lawn.

  “You work for the fire department?” The tattoo hidden under his sleeve should have tipped me off. It didn’t only represent the death of his father, it was a symbol of him. Merek didn’t respond.

  “Why was that such a secret?” I questioned. Merek still didn’t answer.

  “Are you all right?”

  “Am I … no, honestly, I’m not.” Merek’s eyes finally met mine full on. That familiar darkness was missing their flecks of gold, despite the sunshine.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked, stepping forward, but I stepped back.

  “You haven’t called,” I muttered, and he stopped.

  “I know…I…” I raised my hand to stop him.

  “I’m not stupid, Merek. I might have been foolish, but I’m not dumb. I get the hint.”

  “Emme…it was…”

  “Fun while it lasted?” I suggested, spitefully. Did men still use that line?

  “It was a loose hose,” the man in full gear blurted, exiting my front door. “We tightened it up, but you might want to open a window down there. The gas was pretty strong. No working smoke detector or carbon monoxide detector. Want me to write her up, Commander?”

  Merek’s eyes widened.

  “I’m not a good cook,” I said to the man in gear. “I took it down.”

  Merek’s eyes opened wider.

  “That’s a city violation, ma’am. Commander, ticket her?” he suggested.

  “No,” Merek smirked. “Don’t ticket her.” Looking at me, he said, “You could have died, if that was unattended.”

  Like you’d care was on the tip of my tongue, but I bit back the words. Bit them back hard.

  “Is it safe to go inside now?” I addressed the second fireman, ignoring Merek.

  “All clear,” he offered.

  “Fine. Thank you, gentlemen. Sorry for the inconve
nience.”

  “No, inconvenience, ma’am, just doing our job,” gear-boy said.

  “Just doing a job,” I repeated spitefully, glancing at Merek. His eyes shifted away from mine, and I had all the answers I needed.

  Later that night, the girls told me they were headed to Jake’s to swim. The day was extraordinarily warm. I didn’t know who this Jake kid was, other than a new teenager in the neighborhood. The girls left while it was still daylight, and I headed to my porch for some fresh air and a good book. The heat of the day lingered as I sat on the glider, rocking to and fro. My eyes were trained on my Kindle, but they weren’t focused on any words.

  Why hadn’t Merek told me he was a fireman? Why did he keep secrets from me? Innocent secrets, like who he worked for, or what he did. My assumption had been he was a businessman. The first time I’d seen him in the grocery store, he had on a suit. Any other time, he’d been dressed casual as it had been evening, and I again assumed, it was after work hours for him. Of course, he worked at The Square as security and that certainly clashed with being a business man. Had I been so blinded by lust I hadn’t asked enough questions? But I wasn’t about to let myself take the blame. I had been a willing participant, and Merek didn’t need to hide these facts from me.

  As I rocked on the glider, the doorbell rang. I didn’t feel like answering the door, too busy nursing my wine and my broken heart, but the front door was still open for air and I couldn’t pretend I wasn’t home.

  “Commander Elliott,” I snapped.

  “Emme,” he nodded. “I wanted to check the hose.”

  “I didn’t realize firemen made house calls.”

  “Emme,” he said, reaching for the handle of the screen door. “Let me in.” He paused, waiting for my consent. I pushed open the screen door then turned for the basement stairs. Hearing his heavy footsteps were my only sign that he had followed me down into the cooler region of my home. I entered the laundry room, and stood before the washer. I kept my back to him.

  “The loose hose was here, but your men fixed it,” I pointed to the dryer vent and the gas valve positioned upward behind the machines without looking at Merek. Immediately, I was pressed forward against the washer. Thick hands roughly caressed up my back before sliding down my arms and pinning my hands to the top of the machine. His chest brushed my back.

  “Emme, I’m sorry.” His words were tempting, his voice low and gravelly.

  “For not telling me the truth, or not calling me?” His answer didn’t matter as I had lost all train of thought. The firm length of him met my backside. God forgive me, I curled back against him. He hissed, “Both.”

  “Why the big secret, Merek?”

  “I just don’t share my personal life with…”

  “With what Merek? With your friends with benefits? Oh wait, we weren’t that, we were…”

  “Don’t say it,” he growled behind me, letting his hands glide up my side, drawing dangerously close to my breasts. “It wasn’t like that with you.”

  My hips lurched back as his hands came just below my breasts, and his nose nuzzled the back of my neck.

  “What was it like, then, Merek?” I groaned as he pressed forward. Cursing the moisture pooling between my thighs, I arched back against him, my body taking control as I was clearly losing it.

  “It was like this, Emme. Hot.” His hands slid to my hips and he tugged me toward him, the force of his erection thrusting toward me. My hands gripped the washer as I arched my back, forcing my rear against him.

  “God, I’ve missed you,” he sighed, letting his hand rove to my lower abdomen. Could I do this? Could I let things get out of control? Could I fuck him, like he wanted things to be between us?

  “Are you wet for me, dirty girl?” he muttered as kisses washed over my neck. The irony of where we stood wasn’t lost on me.

  “Stop it,” I hissed, allowing the kisses to continue.

  “Really?” He paused.

  “No,” I whispered.

  In answer to those thoughts about fucking him; surprising myself, the answer was yes.

  His hand delved into my shorts and I let out a long moan as his fingers parted me.

  “Shit, you are wet,” he growled. I didn’t respond, as my hips rolled forward and his hand cupped me in a way that his fingers entered easily. My knees hit the washer as I rocked into the invasion of his fingers. His other hand released my hip and I heard the heavy unbuckling of his belt and the sharp unzipping of his uniform pants. Whoever says “lusting over a man in a uniform” doesn’t know the half of it, until that man is behind you, ready to enter you in the most primal way.

  “Get down on your knees, Emme,” he barked, quietly, and I followed his command. His fingers never left me, except to remove my shorts to my ankles. He followed me down onto the laundry room rug. On my knees, ass in the air, my elbows braced me. Anticipation built as he worked that pleasure spot then dragged his length to meet his fingers. Withdrawing only briefly, he entered me with one heavy thrust, pushing me forward.

  “Emme,” he cried out as I pressed back with equal force, eagerly drawing him in. His fingers still played the instrument of my desire while he entered me repeatedly with an increasing tempo. The feeling was unlike the first time in my van. This was animalistic, raw, and rapid. The tension built quickly and I clenched hard, holding fast with each thrust as his fingers played me. With hasty vigor, I burst over Merek and he stilled behind me. Pulsing deep inside me, while I came around him, I was filled with the strangest sensation. I groaned while I arched back, holding him deep within me.

  We remained like this, on hands and knees. Ragged breaths slowed. His head fell to my back, the length of him still buried inside me.

  “Emme, I…that was…” He couldn’t finish his thoughts. A trickle of moisture slid down my leg and reality hit me.

  “You didn’t have on a condom,” I squeaked, twisting out from under him and standing awkwardly while moisture dribbled down my thigh. Reaching for a towel in the laundry basket on the floor, Merek quickly swiped up my leg.

  “You caught me off guard. I didn’t expect this to happen,” he said, still on his knees, then slowing rising. He tugged his pants up, but his eyes shifted to my face. He must have read the horror on it because he stopped tucking himself back in and reached for my cheeks. Without another breath, his mouth crushed mine. Warm lips sucked hard, nipping the lower lip between the eager ones of his. Not releasing me, he pressed forward forcing me against the washing machine. His mouth covered mine, molding, melting into my lips before his tongue snaked out and stole across the seam of our joining. I opened with a sigh of blissful relief, and his tongue eagerly met mine. Tangling for control, my body was pulled against him, as our mouths discovered each other. My hands, ready to push him away, wrapped around his neck, desperate to hold him closer. His arms crossed behind my back, holding me against him. Connecting in a more intimate way than the primitive joining on our knees, I lingered in the heavenly experience of kissing Merek Elliott.

  “Mom?” The cry was faint, but growing. “Mom, are you down there?”

  Merek pulled back quickly, hastily righting his pants and tucking in his shirt. My shorts had already been pulled up, and I tugged at my shirt to straighten it. Merek looked up at me with a devious smile while I called out, “I’ll be right up.” His mouth returned to mine too briefly before we heard a footstep on the top step.

  “Lead the way,” he whispered and I walked around him to exit the laundry room.

  “Mr. Whittington?” The young girl’s voice nearly slapped me in the face as we climbed the staircase. “Mom, what is Mr. Whittington doing here?”

  Emme stopped cold, one foot landing on the stair above her other. She slowly turned toward me, then returned her attention to her daughter. The resemblance to this girl was nonexistent. Dark hair and dark eyes could only be the trademark of her father.

  “This is Fire Commander Elliott. He came to check a loose hose,” she choked on the last words.

/>   “Mom,” the girl eyed me. “That’s Mr. Whittington, Jake’s dad.”

  I remained frozen on the stairs, slow to recognize that she might have been one of many girls in the neighborhood to visit our new home.

  “Mr. Whittington,” Emme whispered. Regaining her composure, she took another step upward. “Mitzi, let us through,” she snapped at her daughter. As Emme entered the kitchen at the top of the stairs, another girl, who was clearly her daughter, met my gaze. Blonde hair and bright blue eyes matched her mother’s perfectly.

  Emme didn’t stop, however. She continued to march toward her front door and stormed out it onto her front stoop. I followed behind, bracing for what was to come.

  “You have forty-two seconds.”

  “Why forty-two?” I laughed, attempting to ease the tension. Her arms crossed. There was no humor in her expression.

  “My name is Merek Elliott Whittington, fire commander of Station 119. I go by the name Merek Elliott, like it’s all one name, but Elliott is my middle name. It was my mother’s maiden name.”

  She waited for me to continue, not needing to spell out the questions I knew she would ask.

  “I have a son, Jake. He’s seventeen, and we just moved to the neighborhood.”

  “Wait, you live here?” she blurted, unfolding her arms, leaning forward astonished.

  “I bought the old MacAllister home. The one with a pool.” Even though I was the new owner, the home was deemed the MacAllister house, named for the previous owners of over forty years. Its trademark was the in-ground pool.

  “So you don’t live in that apartment,” she gasped when realization hit her. “What is it? Some place to…to…fuck people?” she hiss-whispered.

  “It’s my brother’s apartment. Marshall. He travels a lot, and for obvious reasons, I took you there.”

  “Obvious reasons?” she choked.

  “Yeah, you have kids at your house. I have kids at my house. It’s neutral.”

  “How…how many…” her voice nearly sobbed. The implication was clear.

  “I’ve never, ever taken anyone there beside you, Emme. You have to believe me.”