Maya by Shayne Ford

6

CHAD

By the time we finish,the evening has already set in, the lights have come on, and the backyard looks like a fairy tale.

Shade lingers behind me while I take the stairs down, glancing around, looking for her.

People sit around the tables outside, and some twirl on the dance floor. Torches, lanterns, and lit candles spread a soft glow over the lawn.

Gazebos litter the area, some private, remote, close to the edge of the woods, while others are more populated, rising not far from the house.

I step onto the grass, searching for Maya and Tara, but spot Elia instead, not far from where they were the last time I saw them.

For sure, they must’ve gotten away from her.

Calmly, I stride away from the house and check the gazebos.

The further away from the house, I go, the more muffled the noise becomes.

The live music, mingled voices, and cheers stay behind, tall, dark trees filtering the city lights trimming the horizon.

A dark red sunset smudges the sky while the quiet sounds of the night grow around me, twigs crunching under my feet.

I spot a lit gazebo in the distance, two women sitting side by side, watching the sunset and the ominous shadows it casts over the lawn.

My steps are quiet, my pulse steady.

Maya has her back turned to me, her hair cascading down her back, while Tara spots me first.

I signal to her not to give me away, so she tries to continue her conversation with Maya without blowing my cover.

Something tells me it didn’t quite work as Maya shifts in her seat, and from Tara’s expression, I gather her friend is already aware of my presence.

She doesn’t turn to me, though, waiting for me to near them. Silent steps take me to her.

I enter the pavilion, Tara’s eyes shifting to me when I stop behind her friend’s back, touch her shoulder first and curl my fingers around her neck.

She flicks her eyes up.

“Care for a dance?” I ask, smiling.

A grin lights up her face. She rises to her feet before she looks at Tara.

“Are you going to be okay?” she asks Tara.

“Don’t worry about me,” her friend murmurs, smiling, while I snake my arm around Maya’s waist.

I wink at Tara before whisking Maya away.

Once we exit the gazebo, I lock her hand and walk her away.

“How was your meeting?” she asks.

Her voice is more confident, and glancing at her, I notice her beautiful smile.

“It was good. How was the food?”

“It was great.”

We walk in silence, both experiencing a pang of tension and delicious anticipation.

Soon, we step onto the dance floor. I wrap my arm around her waist while holding her hand before we start spinning.

The glamorous lights wash over her face, highlighting her features, making her eyes sparkle.

I barely start to understand how beautiful this woman is.

She’s less stressed now than she was this afternoon when we left or even moments ago when she waited for me in the gazebo.

Her hair and eyes catch the light, her gaze twinkling, enlivened.

Having her in my arms is enough to make her happy.

She feeds on every second with humbleness and gratefulness as if she hasn’t lived fully in a while.

Smoothly, we dance, and the more we do it, the softer she becomes in my hands, and the easier we synchronize until we move in perfect synch.

A slow tune comes on when I tighten my grip and pull her closer to me. She shudders when we touch.

I move my hand up her back until I reach her hair and pull her into me, so she leans into my torso.

A wave of heat lifts off her skin.

It turns her on. It also makes her splay her fingers over my neck and tilt her face up to read my eyes.

It makes her lower her eyelids and stare at me with fire in her gaze.

“I haven’t danced in a long time,” she murmurs, the backyard lights gleaming in her eyes. “I forgot how much I love it. And I love dancing with you,” she adds softly, her eyes beaming with pleasure.

Her thighs touch mine while I wedge my knee between her legs, her silky dress brushing against my suit.

She kneads my neck softly, the back of her hair growing damp with sweat.

“You’re hot,” I say, stroking her neck, the intonation in my voice purposely misleading her.

She looks at me, puzzled.

“Am I?” she tosses at me, amused.

She touches the back of her neck and wipes away a bead of sweat.

I look straight into her eyes, softly nodding.

Her eyes slip to my lips way too many times before I lower my mouth to her ear, breathe over her skin, and murmur.

“You’re hot, Maya,” I say, this time meaning what she has thought I said the first time.

Her grip on my neck tightens as if she doesn’t want to let go of me.

We no longer move, her hand sliding toward my neckline when I press my lips against her neck and leave a kiss that makes her suck in a shaky breath.

“Let’s dance somewhere else,” I say before I straighten.

I take her hand and walk her away. She follows me without a word.

We find a small gazebo barely swept by a ribbon of light coming from the party, the old trees draping it in shadow.

The wooden floor creaks under our feet. Unlit candles sit in glass jars, a couple of chairs, and a small table cluttering a corner.

The music gets lost in the breeze, but it doesn’t matter. Dancing is not what we have in mind.

She watches me in silence as I shed my tuxedo jacket and remove my bow tie, drop them on a chair and open a couple of buttons at my neckline.

“Now we can dance,” I say.

I hold my hand out for her.

We connect our hands a moment later as I loop my arm around her waist.

* * *

MAYA

Every partof me quivers when he takes me in his arms.

The weather is balmy, the temperature pleasant, the breeze soothing, and yet sweat trickles down my neck.

The man is made of fire.

Every look, sultry gaze, and word leaving his lips––oh, his sinful lips–– and every time he touches me, his breath fanning over my neck, his leg moving between my thighs, I feel as if I’m about to melt into a puddle.

How could I control that kind of hunger?

He is like a scrumptious slice of cake after a brutal, prolonged diet, and now he observes me with his hooded eyes, making me swallow hard.

“You know why we’re here,” he murmurs, dragging his gaze down, taking me in slowly.

“Yes,” I say, my voice trembling a little.

He lifts his eyes, a smile creasing his lips.

“We only have a few hours,” he says, and my heart stops for a moment.

I look at him, unable to whip up a coherent thought or articulate a word.

What is there to say? What can I say?

We should just make it worthwhile.

His hips tilt slightly, his hands coming to my face.

My arms lock around his torso, my fingers sliding up his back when he takes my face in his hands, tilts my chin up, and lowers his mouth to mine.

My eyes close as I experience his kiss, my hands falling lower yet still holding onto him.

Infinite tenderness comes from his kiss, his heat canceling out the slight coolness of the breeze. I slide closer, pressing myself into his body, quenching my thirst for him, his hard frame… His pecs, abs, groin, and thighs.

His thumbs brush against my cheeks as he slowly kisses me, giving me a taste of him, breathing life into me, opening doors that haven’t been opened in a while, walking into a heart that hasn’t seen a man like him before.

I quickly become addicted to his touch as he teases me, biting me softly before luring me into a deepened kiss, our tongues touching, moving in a slow dance of seduction until we’re completely and irremediably turned on, and bonded.

This easily slips out of control, not that I want to resist him. He is like an unexpected gift to me.

We spin until his back meets the railing, he props against it and opens his legs for me, so I can wedge myself between them.

His hands run up my thighs, riding my skirt up, the friction between my skin, his touch, and the fluid fabric igniting a trail of pleasure to my sex.

Pushing himself up, he lets my skirt fall back in place, his hands going up my back, under my hair, around my neck, straight to my face.

He kisses me while stroking my skin and tangling his fingers in my hair. My body screams for him, his fire flowing through my blood, and the kiss only deepens.

He’s like a race car, going from zero to 100 in a few seconds.

That’s why he straightened and stopped playing with my dress. He doesn’t want to burn through me too fast, the same way I hold back, suppressing my need for him.

And yet…

He drags his fingers down, our lips still connected, our pace increasing when my hands go to his shirt. I open a couple of buttons, slink my fingers inside and touch his chest, a bit rushed.

I wish I could be more casual about it, but it’s impossible.

His knee goes between my legs, my hip rubbing against his groin.

He is deliciously hard, and I go for another button and another, our lips rolling, our tongues entailed, not ashamed of how turned on we are.

My fingers reach his belt before making the trip back and peeling his shirt off his shoulders. I want to feel his skin under my touch and learn the contour of his bulging muscles.

He rides the zipper at my back down, and the corset gives way to my chest. Roughly, he tugs the lacy strapless bra down as the top peels away from my torso.

It’s the first time we stopped kissing.

He broke the kiss to look down while I take in the broad line of his shoulders, his muscular neck and chest, his biceps, and curved pecs. His torso tapers smoothly to his waist, his pants highlighting his hips and package.

He cups my breasts and flicks my nipples with his thumbs, filtering a fiery gaze while I run my hands down his abs.

He looks away for a moment. Toward the house, I think.

“Let’s go somewhere…” he murmurs as if planning for a marathon instead of a sprint.

“Yeah…” I say softly, sounding disappointed somewhat.

Although it wasn’t my intention, the thought seized my tone.

I don’t have a place of my own, and I don’t want to be the one suggesting a hotel room either.

Swiftly, he moves his eyes to me and reads me fast, and it takes him only seconds––although, to me, it feels like hours–– to ponder this thing. I see him torn, aroused, careful not to create a misunderstanding.

Hours ago, we were two strangers. We are still two strangers even though our best friends are a couple now.

I pull my top up to slide it back in place when he cuffs my wrist and stops me. My hand softens in his grip while his arm closes around my waist.

“I want to be with you for the next few hours, Maya… I don’t want a hotel room, and I don’t want only this.”

His voice is soft but serious, and it makes me swallow hard again.

He’s saying what I think he’s saying, somehow sensing this is more than unquenched thirst that needs to be addressed.

It’s also the curiosity that we have for one another beyond sex. It seems unavoidable.

“Me too,” I say, my voice faltering.

I sound apologetic like someone who is not ready for this kind of sudden realization while everything about me is a mess.

My body is starved, my heart begs for some hope, and my mind struggles to make sense of all this.

He cuffs my hand.

“We’ll go to Shade’s place later. Is that okay with you?”

I bite my lip.

Yes. That would be more than okay with me.

Wrapped in his touch, my hand goes to his chest.

He holds it against his heart, his arm draping around my waist while he pulls me into him when I tilt my face up, needing his lips like the air that I breathe.

We connect into a slow kiss, my breaths steadying, my pulse calming down as he shows me with his kiss all the things I’ve dearly missed.

The more he does it, the more I dive into him, and the more I realize how much mending my heart needs.

“I don’t want to ruin this…” I breathe out quietly, fearing I’m too emotional not to mess things up.

He smiles and places another kiss on my lips.

“You’re not ruining anything… You’re perfect the way you are.”

He kisses me again, removing all my fears, my doubts.

My heart weeps a little.

“We should go back…” he says, smoothly adjusting his erection.

I agree with him, but I don’t break away from him.

With renewed confidence, I run my fingers up his body, touching his abs and chest, holding his eyes while trailing his shoulders. His shirt falls to his elbows before my fingers go to his face.

He watches me in silence while I observe him.

“Chances are you’ve caught me in a bad moment of my life…” I murmur, brushing my index finger over his bottom lip, marveling at the beauty of his face.

“I know…” he says seriously. “I’m not in the greatest moment of my life either,” he adds, bittersweet somewhat.

I cock an eyebrow at him, lifting my gaze to meet his eyes.

“Why would you say that?”

He flashes a lopsided smile.

“Where should I start?” he jokes, and we both smile, regretful, though.

“You can start anywhere. I have nowhere to go,” I murmur.

His teeth scrape his bottom lip as he ponders for a second.

“I’m a student, living overseas. That pretty much sums it up.”

My fingers rest on his collarbone.

“And I’m a woman going through a divorce. People like me are notoriously difficult and have a lot of issues that need to be fixed,” I say, humor lining my voice.

He breathes out a soft laugh that makes me warm. My skin is flushed, tingles swirling in secret places.

My smile fades, and so does his as I bring my hand to his face and splay my fingers over his cheek.

“Whatever this is, I just want you to know something. You will never be only rebound sex for me…”

A smile flickers through his gaze before I go on.

“I’m not going through the pain of a breakup. I’m going through the pain of reinventing myself. There is no void to be filled because there was no void, to begin with. I made peace with what it was, and this is a clean start for me. I’m not asking for anything from you that I won’t be able to give you myself.”

He parts his lips to speak.

I touch them gently.

“These past years, I’ve learned something about myself. I need to be honest with you. I’m dying to feel you against my body, but I’m a woman. A grown-up that is. And you won’t hear me begging for promises. I’m not the person who clings to a man.”

I smile.

“No matter how broken and horny I might be…” I say.

He gives me a soft grin.

“I want to make a confession as well,” he rasps, looking down for a second but not at my body, rather gathering his thoughts.

“When Shade told me Tara had a friend, I didn’t expect someone like you…”

He lifts his eyes.

“What did you expect?” I ask, puzzled.

He softly shrugs.

“You thought I was a brunette?” I joke.

He laughs, entertained.

“It had nothing to do with how you look.”

“What was it then?” I ask, curious.

“I imagined someone closed off. Most people are when they go through tough times…” he argues.

“Most people get hurt if they are not guarded.”

“True.”

“What else?”

He narrows his eyes, his stare going blank for a moment.

“When Shade met Tara, he kept her a secret, not from me but everybody else. He tried, at least to keep their relationship confidential because he was protective of her. In the beginning, I thought he was hiding her because she was a married woman.”

He pauses, his grin broadening.

“I always thought married women are hot.”

His smirk makes me sweat.

“Why would you think that?” I ask quietly, my eyes lingering on his lips.

His arms curl around me, lending me their warmth.

“Because it’s true,” he says, my palms sitting on his bare chest.

“Why is that?” I go on, swept away by the look of his eyes and lips and smile.

Again.

“Because they know the good and the bad of human interactions, who they are and what they want.”

I bite my lip, crushing a smile.

“That’s sexy to me…” he says, looking at my lips, his eyes smiling, oozing sexiness I have a hard time coping with.

A few voices resonate not far from us, alerting us to the presence of other people.

I glance over my shoulder before moving my focus back to him and pulling his shirt up.

“Don’t worry,” he says, unfazed. “They’re going the other way,” he adds, looking in their direction.

The voices fade into the night when we look at each other again.

“To be fair, I didn’t expect someone like you either,” I say while he tucks his shirt into his pants, and I fix my dress.

“What did you expect?” he asks, shrugging his tuxedo jacket on.

Smiling, I bite my lip.

“You thought I was a boy?” he murmurs, starting to button up his crisp white shirt.

I stop him as he reaches the top of his abs.

“It has crossed my mind.”

A laugh rocks his chest.

“Some clueless schmuck?”

“That’s entirely possible,” I say, amused.

“You weren’t thinking about sex when you envisioned that, do you?”

“No. I actually didn’t. But…”

“But what?” he asks, holding me in his arms again, looking down his nose at me, broadening a cocky smirk.

“Tara was lucky to find Shade, and I didn’t think his best friend would be…”

I stop.

“What?” he insists.

“So insightful… And a real man.”

He seems surprised by my observation.

“What makes you say that?”

How can I tell him?

The better question is, how do I know?

I just see it in him. In the man who holds me in his arms.

This could’ve gone different ways. It happened that I wanted him from the moment I saw him, and although it took me by surprise, I couldn’t ignore the chemistry between us.

And then something happened…

As I sent him all those little non-verbal messages written in the ink of my pain and struggle and he started to read them and to read me, turning page after page after page, ending up leafing through my entire story while holding himself back to see more and find out more, so we could get to this point, he made no promises, but he promised me one thing.

As dirty as this short affair is meant to be, he will be a gentleman to me, and he will give me what I’ve never gotten from anyone before.

Honesty.

He takes my hand, lifts it to his lips, and leaves a soft kiss on my skin.

“Tell me, baby…” he says, his voice deep, echoing in my brain. “Tell me more.”

“I think you’ve never mistreated anyone,” I say.

A smile creases his lips.

“Some people would strongly disagree.”

“You didn’t do it when it mattered,” I retort, my words killing his smile.

Seconds of silence pull away from us.

“You didn’t do it with me… You’ve made me feel as if you cared for me.”

He gives me a soft nod.

“I do care for you.”

“Why?”

“That’s how I feel…” he says silently.

He kisses my palm this time, his lips igniting a stream of pleasure moving swiftly from his touch to my skin and the flesh between my thighs.

He does it again and again, and I can’t believe how sensual he is and how amazingly good he feels.

It makes me pull closer to him, the passion in his touch carrying the emotion of his words.

We feel the fire growing again while my free hand goes to his chest and starts kneading his muscles before moving to his neck and wrapping around it.

Later, I drag my touch to his cheek, nearing his mouth.

I want his lips on mine so much. As much as I want to feel him inside me.

Locking our eyes, we realize we are on the same page, so he runs his hand down, this time sliding past my waist.

Our bodies touch, my thigh sliding between his legs, his thigh opening me for him.

My skirt pulls open, too, my panties rubbing straight against his thigh.

Cupping the back of my hair, he nudges my mouth to his lips while slipping his hand around my hip and inside my skirt at the front.

Slowly he trails my hip and my butt before snagging my panties to the side, clearing the way for his touch.

A moan reverberates inside my chest when we connect our lips into a fiery, open-mouth kiss.

I lose my focus quickly, swept into a delicious daze, his fingers gliding across my lower abdomen before pressing against my folds, parting them, and sensually rubbing my clit.

Swirls of pleasure irradiate across my skin, making my center clench.

Stroking the nub of firing pleasure, he shifts a little, and I feel his hard-on against my body.

I move my hand down and touch him through his pants.

Quietly grunting, he slides his touch into my wetness.

I stroke him harder, my breaths quickening swiftly while I feverishly pull his zipper down, run my hand down his boxers and wrap my fingers around his hardness.

Oh… Heaven.

He burns against my touch while my wetness trickles on his fingers.

This is the moment we should stop.

Who am I kidding?

He reaches inside his pants, takes his hard-on out, and slides his wet fingers down his length, coating his hardness before I stroke him again.

My hand slides with ease, my mouth tingling with pleasure while he moves his tongue with mine.

We slowly slip into the dirty affair we knew this would be.

This is liberating. So, so liberating.

Rock hard, he pulses in my hand while I move my fist up and down, sucking on his tongue as if my whole existence depends on it.

Swiftly he curls his fingers and slides them into me again.

Using his thumb to massage my clit at the same time, he makes me come in record time. We don’t stop or change the pace––despite my grip hardening onto him and tensing against his chest.

For the second time this evening, mixed voices trail closer, men and women, party guests.

He pivots slightly to turn his back to them and block their view. Like the others, they walk away while we continue unhindered, a blaze sweeping through us as we taste each other to the fullest.

I’m a dripping mess between my legs while his hard-on is wet when he lowers himself on the handrail, his back turned to the house, and pulls me to him.

He flicks my skirt back and smoothly unties my panties.

Strong fingers move around my hip before cupping my backside. We don’t need words as he lifts my thigh and helps me onto his lap.

His erection juts in the air as we both point it to my center. He enters me slowly, fascinated, watching my expression.

I can’t hide the immense satisfaction as I feel him pulsing between my legs. And I won’t make a secret of how good he feels, how real, and satisfying.

Judging by the pleasure gleaming in his eyes, he doesn’t want to keep it a secret either.

He straightens and pushes up to grip me harder yet doesn’t shift his position, holding my thigh high and pressing his hard-on against my core.

I clutch his neck.

“Oh, damnit…” I murmur, my nostrils flaring, sweat dotting my upper lip, my skin prickling with pleasure. “It feels so good…” I say while he thrusts into me, slowly and firmly, and I welcome that sensation as if it is the answer to all my problems.

I get drunk on every moment and every bit of pleasure he ignites in me.

The back of his neck is damp with sweat, my fingers slipping slightly.

He shouldn’t have put his jacket on, but it’s too late to think about it as I prop my foot on the railing, and he moves his hips.

Oh, please have mercy… He does.

One hand is latched onto my thigh while the other grabs my butt as I hold onto his neck and run my fingers across his chest.

I look down while he enters me repeatedly, the sight alone making me clench.

He grunts softly and lowers his eyelids when I look up to take in his expression. His upper lip glistens with sweat, his mouth opening slightly, his chiseled jaw drawing my eyes.

I’m close to coming, the tension in my grip heightening around his neck.

He picks up the speed while I press my forehead against his shoulder, coming, the back to back shudders bringing me to life again.

I dig my shoe into the railing harder while his thrusts intensify. They become harsher and harsher as he plunges into me.

Everything feels so right.

It’s pure perfection.

“Fuck, woman…” he murmurs in a gruff voice, finishing me, pulling me to another high with him.

Moans fall from my chest while he fucks me without holding back, overwhelming me and enrapturing me, my insides tingling and clenching fast.

We shudder against each other, coated with sweat, breaths rolling together, pulse racing.

Moments later, I soften against his chest while he helps me to my feet.

My legs and knees shake, my fingers trembling.

I find it difficult to tie my panties while he tucks his still hard dick inside his pants before checking his clothes and mine.

I’m sure his release ended up on my dress.

I felt it trickling down my thighs.

Smoothly, I button up his shirt, leaving it open at the neckline while he runs his fingers through his hair and checks his phone.

“Let’s find them,” he says, taking my hand and leading me away.