Page 22 of On Fire

He smells salty like the sea and limey like after shave.

I wish I had never touched that salad.

Next, he pulls away and tries to unbutton my shirt with those huge fingers.

I do it for him and shrug the shirt to the floor. The sea breeze creates a sudden waft of cool air. Goosepimples rise on my arms, though I’m not sure it’s from the breeze. I reach for my belt buckle.

But there’s something in Keller’s face that makes me stop. “You haven’t done this in a while have you,” I say realizing in the moment I’m right.

For the first time tonight, Keller is speechless.

I run a hand through my hair to think straight. Slow down. “Okay. We’ll stop then. Listen, I’m sorry if I presumed.” Stepping away from him, I turn to look out at the black sky and dark water with just a rippling strip of silver from the moon. He is owed an explanation. In that moment, I suck down air, come clean, and my voice cracks. “I’m fucked up right now. These bombings have done something to me—and I—”

Suddenly Keller comes around and grabs me in a full embrace, crushing my body to his. His heart throbs against mine and all of him, all of that huge man, is pressing against me. I nearly have my breath knocked from my chest.

His kiss is long, his breathing labored, and when he pulls away for a moment, I gasp. Then he comes in again for more. He’s rough and strong. My dick stiffens. I wrap my arms around him, feeling his muscles moving under my hands, he pulls me tight against him and then he pushes away a second time.

Panting, he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

“We are doing this, right? Right?”

I nod, slowly, almost afraid he’ll shy like a Percheron if I speak.

“Okay. Then, ah . . .” he starts, and I realize he doesn’t really know the next step. It has been a while. I run hands down his stomach, pull his pants open and slide a hand down there, wrapping my hand firmly around his cock. I give it a squeeze.

His gasp is quick and light and makes me harder. Tugging his jeans further down, I drop to my knees and swallow him, starting slowly, and keep checking in. I rub his ball sac in one hand, while sucking every inch of him.

He wants it—to a point.

“I’ve been thinking of this—ever since—” but he can’t finish his sentence because he stops me.

“What’s wrong?” I say, panting slightly. When it’s clear he’s serious, I stand. This is not where I wanted to leave it, or him. Sprawled on his back begging for more was my idea.

“Nothing,” he says, and then again: “Nothing. It’s just that I want to do something with you.” He shortens the sentence: “Do you.”

His dick throbs in the air, hard and ready.

“But we are.” My confusion must be visible.

“Can we go upstairs?”

I get it now. He wants to go to bed. He is not as shy as I thought.

“You have a shower upstairs?” I ask, one hand on the railing.

“Yeah.” He looks slightly bewildered.

“I’m versatile—top, bottom, side special, whatever you need.” I try to make this sound like a regular conversation, light, something not special. I have no idea what his preference is.

He squares his shoulders as if deciding something. “A shower’s a good idea,” is all he says.

Got it.

“Towels?”

“In the cupboard in the hall.”

“Cupboard?” I can’t picture this.

He corrects himself. “Hall closet.”

I step forward and kiss him quickly on the lips. “You sure you want this?” I pause. There are so many other things I can think of to do with that body and I feel slightly frustrated.

“It’s been so long. Yes. Yes,” he says, and then a smile breaks across his face wide and long and all the way to his eyes.