Changing Course (4 page)

"Holy shit, you are sexy. You need to slow down, or there is no way I'm going to last much longer." I finally look up, meeting her eyes.

If I thought staring at her swaying breasts was enough to make me come, it was nothing compared to the way I feel looking into her eyes. I quickly push up onto into a sitting position, running my fingers into her hair. I grab the back of her head, pulling her down into a rough kiss.

I can feel my balls start to tighten and my dick swell inside her. It's too soon, but I can tell from her pace, she's close too. But not nearly close enough. Not releasing her mouth, I reach between us to rub her clit. This causes her to ride me harder, take me deeper, and grind against my hand on every down stroke. Using one hand to brace herself against my chest, she moves the other back to play with her own nipples. It's obvious this girl knows exactly what she wants and how to get it.

She drops her head down against my forehead, never slowing. I can feel her whole body tightening as she stares intensely into my eyes, never looking away or hiding behind closed lids.

"Brett," she barely whispers as she falls over the edge.

The sensations are too much and I can’t hold back any longer. Arching my back and thrusting into her one last time, I come so hard that I begin to see stars. Slowing her pace, she continues to slide up and down my softening cock as the aftershocks of my release travel through my body. She finally stills, resting her entire weight on my chest.

"You're a dirty girl, Sarah Erickson," I pant out while trying to catch my breath.

"Is that supposed to be a bad thing?"

"No, it's perfect. I have to warn you though, I don't think you are going to be able to get rid of me after that. If you happen to need a new sub for your crazy dominatrix dungeon, or just someone to wax your stripper pole, I'm your guy," I try to tease.

"Who says I want to get rid of you? We may have just created a little Danika or Hephzibah!" My whole body stiffens as it dawns on me that we didn't use a condom.

"Oh Shit! Damn. Shit. Fuck!" I scream jumping to my feet causing her to crash to the side.

"Hey, is that anyway to treat you're pregnant girlfriend?"

"Damn, I'm so sorry. Are you okay?" My eyes search her body for any possible injury. As I get to her face, I can see her tight lips forcefully trying to contain a smile.

"Oh God, this is too much!" She flops down on the couch in hysterical laughter, leaving me completely confused.

"What am I missing here?" I ask, then notice that I'm standing naked in front of a laughing woman. I pull on my jeans, not bothering to button them before I continue questioning her. "What are you laughing about?" I ask a little too harshly.

If she noticed my tone at all, it didn't seem to affect her. I stand annoyed with my hands on my hips, staring at this obviously insane woman rolling around naked on the couch in a fit of laughter. Finally able to compose herself, she wipes away her tears and pulls me down to the couch next to her.

"I'm sorry,” she says, moving to straddling my lap. "I'm on birth control. No babies." She starts to giggle again, but I level her with an annoyed glare. I breathe out a relieved sigh as she continues, "I didn't mean to forget about the condom, I just got carried away. I'm clean though. You don't have to worry about that either," she rains sweet apologetic kisses all over my face.

"You're evil."

"And dirty," she replies moving her kissing down to my neck.

"You better show me some more of that dirty to make up for your lame jokes."

"My pleasure," she smiles, sinking to the floor between my knees.

Brett

O
VER THE
course of the following months, Sarah and I alternated between her house and mine, never sleeping a night apart. We made love, ordered take out, sometimes she cooked, sometimes she laughed at me while I attempted to cook, and occasionally, we forgot to eat all together. Sarah was more than I ever could have expected from the tight red dress I met one random solo night at the club. She was smart, beautiful, sexy, and funny.
God, she was so damn funny.

We would spend hours making up stupid games just to challenge each other. That nutty woman was the most competitive person I have ever met. We played Jeopardy every night, keeping track of how many answers we each got right. The winner received absolutely nothing but bragging rights, but for us that was the most coveted prize of all.

"You cheater!" I scream walking back into the room carrying her glass of wine. "I told you to pause it."

"No way. You can't pause Jeopardy! You walk out of the room, you forfeit those questions to me. So now I'm up, twelve to nine."

"I only got up because you asked for another glass of wine!"

"Well it's not my fault that you lack the ability to say no to a sexy woman." She bats her eyelashes at me.

"Oh, well in that case...” I turn the glass, pouring two drops onto the wood floor.

"Don't you dare, Brett Sharp! You know that's my last glass of wine." She jumps up from the couch trying to snatch it from me.

"What's the score, Sarah?"

"Twelve to nine."

"Wrong answer." I pour out two more drops.

"Brett! Stop being an ass. I'm serious. Don't pour out my wine!" She stands up on the chair next to me trying to jump high enough to reach it. She is by no means short, but I've got her by at least six inches.

"What's the score?"

"You know what, just forget it. You can pour out the wine." She walks back to the couch, sitting down and propping her feet up on the ottoman.

Shit...this means trouble.

Sarah never gives up this easy. Last week we had almost the exact same fight over a "friendly" game of Uno. It ended with my balls being so blue, they were registering on the purple side of the color spectrum. She pretended to give up, walking away just like she did tonight. However, last week when I got close enough to her, she dropped to her knees giving me the most amazing blow job ever to be performed. She kept me on edge for over an hour, working me with her mouth as only Sarah could. When I finally couldn't take it anymore, desperate with need to come, she kissed the tip and whispered to my throbbing cock, "Sorry, but I definitely said Uno first," then walked out of the room.

Trying to shake off the horrible memory, I say, "I'm not letting you near my dick this time."

"Okay." She continues to stare at the TV screen.

"I'm serious."

"Oh, I have no doubt that you are, Brett," she says with an evil smile on her face as she reaches down, pulling her shirt over her head.

"Shit," I say as I watch her lick her fingers and circle her nipples.

"It's really a shame you won't be letting me anywhere near that big dick of yours tonight. You looked insanely hot when you came home all sweaty from the gym tonight. It took everything I had to actually cook dinner and not touch myself knowing you were naked in my shower." She continues to stroke her breasts, while one hand drifts down her stomach stopping at waist band of her shorts.

"Jesus." I reach down and start rubbing my growing erection as she continues to torture me.

"If I'm being honest, I've been waiting all night to show you a few new toys I bought online. They arrived today, and while it isn't nearly as big as you are, I'm sure it will be help dull the ache on a night like this." She finishes on a groan as her hand finally makes its way into her shorts.

In times like these, you have to let go of your pride. Alone and proud, or balls deep and coming. So I relent to her sexual terrorism.

"Twelve to nine, and I'll buy you a new bottle of wine tomorrow." I move over to her and crush my mouth to hers, shoving my hand down her pants to join her moving fingers.

"Oh thank God, I wasn't sure how much longer I could keep that up. I loved watching you get hard through your pants like that. I almost got off on that alone."

"You are going to kill me one of these days with all of your crazy games."

"I hope not, I'd miss you."

"Right, because then who would you play Jeopardy with?" I ask, causing her to laugh before pulling her shorts off and climbing into my lap.

"I love you," she says, sinking down onto my waiting erection. "And thank you for the big bottle of wine."

"Who said anything about it being a big bottle?" I run my hands over her ass trying to push her down a little faster, but she freezes at my words with only the tip nestled inside.

"Okay, okay. Fine. A big bottle. I'll buy you a whole damn vineyard if you stop teasing and fuck me right now."

"Now that I can do." She slams herself down, causing us both to shout out a curse.

That was Sarah, and I loved the entire quirky package. She was everything I wanted and needed in my life. She kept me in line when it was time to study for exams. Including her personal version of oral exams, one lick for every question I answered correctly. Unfortunately for my grades her licks were entirely too effective and we never made it past question three. She also helped me fill out my application for the academy by straddling my lap naked while feeding me left-over lo mein. She was more than my everything, Sarah was my forever.

Eight months, two days, and twelve hours after I first laid eyes on Sarah Erickson, I asked her to marry me. It wasn't the over-the-top romantic display most women brag about, but it was us. I cooked her a disgusting dinner and made her a tragically ugly cake. I gave her a 5x7 photo of Alex Trebek with this clue scrawled on the back:

Approximately 2,063,000 men ask this question every year. Only about fifty-four percent never ask it again.

It took her a few minutes to answer. I'm not sure she even truly understood what was happening. When I got down on one knee holding out the tiniest diamond coal has ever produced, she squealed out in true Jeopardy form, "What is: Will you marry me!" Tears streaming down her face.

Laughing, I teased, "Yes. You don't have to yell. Of course I'll marry you." This comment earned me a punch to the stomach that didn't even register in the midst of my elation that this beautiful woman was going to be my wife. I never once let her forget that she actually proposed to me.

Sarah and I lived a happy life. It wasn't perfect. We fought like any young couple, but that gave us even more opportunities for make-up sex, a personal favorite of ours. I finished college and entered the police academy, eventually graduating in the top of my class. Sarah put hours of work into writing, yet she never finished a single book. She always said she just had too many ideas.

Sarah's two best friends, Manda and Casey, were fixtures in our lives. Once we got married we didn't go to the clubs as often, but occasionally the girls would drag me out. One particular night, we ran into a fellow rookie detective, Caleb Jones. He took an immediate interest in "Regina". He even laughed when I pulled him aside and informed him that her name was actually Manda.

Those two did the on-again off-again thing for years before Caleb told her he was done with the bullshit and wanted to get married. It was mainly Manda who was playing games, so she was a hard sell, but apparently Caleb can be very persuasive when he wants to be. It was Manda who got the last laugh, accepting his proposal, but refusing to actually tie the knot.

The four of us became extremely close. It was nice to have another couple to hang out with on the weekends. Sarah and Manda planned Friday evenings full of drunken board games. If Casey happened to be dating someone, they came too. Caleb and I later ended up being partnered together at work, and eventually, he became my best friend. Even when he and Manda were in an "off phase," Caleb would still meet me at the hole in the wall bar down the street to watch whatever sport was in season.

April 18, 2009 was the day the world came crashing down on our picture perfect little group. The four of us had decided to go out for dinner at our favorite pizza joint. Westies had the most delicious deep dish Chicago pizza you have ever tasted, and the cheap beer didn't hurt either. We went there almost weekly for years, but I've never been back since that night. Caleb and I got called away on a case, and Sarah and Manda decided to stay and finish dinner.

"Got to go, babe," I say to Sarah while nodding to Caleb across the table. "Seems they found Mrs. Reynolds alive and well, shacked up with her pool boy."