Chapter Twenty-Five

Tessa I spent Monday with Archie, and we went to dinner, and Archie confessed that he wasn’t much of a cook. There was something crazy about Archie. He had the confidence of a bull. He said exactly what was on his mind all the time. I loved that part of him, the fact that he had no fear, and he was ruthless about it.

I told him that I just came back from home, seeing my parents had set-up all sorts of his emotions. I expected him to want to go down and dirty, but he listened. Told me exactly what he thought of the situation, the same thing that I did at the time.

“Your parents seem to be in a good place. Just like you.” He smiled as he briefly kissed me on the lips after dropping me home.

I was dreading coming back to CU and splitting myself in seven. But I realized that it was because I was worried about disappointing the guys by not keeping up the sexual relations. They wanted more from me than that, and I nearly led Archie on, by turning our innocent kiss into a quick romp in the back of his jeep.

I wanted him so bad as I saw a different side of him. One that I not only liked but had started to love.

***

We went out to eat, watched movies, and the triplets cooked for me Wednesday night. We had a great night, and I wanted so badly to make it an innocent night as I did with Archie, but I always found myself weak at the knees. I used to think that they were the ones who were so demanding, but I was slowly seeing that maybe it wasn’t them, but me.

Could you be monogamous to one group of men when you were polyamorous? It was a new question I’d explore in my blog at some point.

I was emotionally drained, and some calm was what I needed. I needed to decompress, a term I’d heard, but hadn’t entirely understood until now. The thought of the triplets banging my brains out so soon after I’d spent time with my parents. I needed to rest, to gather my thoughts, and just to get to know them on more than a sexual level, but I couldn’t stick to it. They were trying to, but I couldn’t. This part was clear to me. I’d been blaming them for this turmoil, but they weren’t the one’s to blame. I was.

I didn’t believe from some of the things that I read online that it was all about sex. If it were then there was no need to have relationships, I could go out and have a one-night stand every day of the week. There was more to being in a polyamorous relationship than sex. I had that connection with Carlos; we could talk and sit as if we were friends and then from our sexting, I thought that in the bedroom, he would be a beast.

The triplets were different; I was attracted to them for three various reasons; Archie for being the arrogant one and saying exactly what was on his mind, all the time. Pete, for being the sensitive one, the type of guy who knew what he wanted, but always put me first and Ron just for being the voice of reason. Sometimes, the triplets needed that, someone to give them a level-head. Hell, even I needed it at the best of times. I felt as if I was so deep in these relationships that I forgot about everyone else until I went home for Thanksgiving. It was good to see Mom and Dad happy; it’d been far too long since I saw them like that, and I couldn’t wait to go home for Christmas to hear more exciting news about Mom in her new job. Then again, it could lead to me having to reveal what I was writing about, the article that Dad wanted to know about, I’d find myself in a position that I would have to lie. One thing that I’d never done with him, but I couldn’t figure out how else to do it.

The idea of lying to him and the look on his face when he mentioned Playboy nearly sent him into a cardiac arrest. I almost said to him that the Playboy mansion was closed, but I knew that if I did that, then he would know what it was about. I didn’t want him to have a clue, because I was still thinking about the counter article and what it would mean if I gave that to him.

Giving him a different article, would be a lie. Not only to him, but to myself. It would mean that I was ashamed of what I was doing, and I wasn’t. I loved every part of it. Then again, if I was so confident about it, why hadn’t I revealed what I was doing to the rest of the college. Why had it seemed so easy and then got so complicated?

On Thursday Carlos asked to meet me. I asked him what he wanted to do, and he replied, that it was all in my hands. I suggested a night in would be perfect to me after my time with my parents. He was a good listener and supportive. Jess was too, but his day wasn't until Friday. Luckily, Carlos was my Thursday, and he was ready to listen.

When I asked him if we could stay in, he’d taken a good five minutes before he answered.

“Hm. Okay. Shall we cook or get takeout?” he sent back.

“I think cooking would be fun. We could do it together?”

“Sounds good. Do you drink wine?”

He knew I wasn’t twenty-one yet but didn’t care, we’d be at his house and there wasn’t anyone there to judge either of us. “I do.”

“Cool. What shall we cook?”

We eventually decided on a simple meal of baked chicken, salad, and mashed potatoes. He’d start the chicken, and I’d take the bus over while it baked in the oven. When I arrived, the house was filled with the scent of roasting chicken mixed with the heavenly scents of rosemary and sage. I kissed him on the cheek as I walked in and he hugged me.

“It’s so nice to see you again,” he said as he stepped back to let me in.

“I missed you too.” I followed him into the kitchen of his house. It wasn’t huge, as I suspected, but a small, one-bedroom house with an office and a nice backyard with a patio. That backyard and patio meant it was very expensive in this part of Chicago. “The chicken smells great.”

“Good. Wine?” He held up a bottle of red and I nodded with a smile.

That label looked expensive, but I wasn’t going to complain. He poured a small amount in a small wine glass and handed it to me.

“It’s good,” I said after I took a sip. I was no judge of what good wine was, but this tasted nice with a little beat of heat to it. I found that part odd, but again, I knew nothing about wine, except cheap bottles I’d had with the girls.

“I’m glad you like it.” He moved to a fridge hidden behind cabinet panels and took out the ingredients for the salad we’d planned.

“Want me to do that?” I asked and sat on a bar stool at the island in the middle of his kitchen. The room was separated by a large island. There was a sink and dishwasher against the back wall, next to the fridge, but the island contained another sink, the stove and oven, and space for preparing food.

“No, I’ve got it. How was your day?” He started to break up lettuce but looked at me as he did so.

“It was good. Class, then I went to the paper’s office for a little while, went home and did some homework. A usual weekday. How was yours?”

“Good too, about the same as yours, except for the paper part.” He looked at me closely, as if he were trying to figure something out. “How’s your mom?”

“Fine, she texted me earlier and I talked to her on the phone while I waited for the bus.”

“Great, that’s good news.” He was finished with the lettuce and started to slice tomatoes on a cutting board. “Still tired?”

“Not much, now it’s more that my brain is just a little foggy. It’s always hard for me to get back into my normal routine after a few days away.”

“I see.” He smiled as he chopped a bell pepper to put into the salad. He added a few more things while I sipped the wine and then he made my favorite salad dressing…ranch. He was after my heart with that one. I loved it fresh, store-bought always had a vinegar taste in the background that I didn’t really like.

“Had enough?” he asked and put his knife and fork down. He had very meticulous manners and always used a knife and fork, even with foods that were commonly known to be food you ate with your hands. Like the soft tacos he’d had at his uncle’s the other night.

“Yes, thank you.” I put the last bite of chicken into my mouth and chewed.

“Have room for dessert? I have cake in the fridge.”

“I couldn’t eat anything else right now.”

“Okay.”

We cleared the table, emptied the dishes, and put them into the dishwasher before we went into the living room. I’d worn jeans, a dark blue sweater, and black ankle boots that I’d taken off at the door. I stood on the white carpet in his living room with blue socks decorated with pink polka dots on them, digging my toes into the thick carpet. Everything in his living room was white, like my bedroom. I wondered if his bedroom was the same way.

He picked up a remote as he followed me in, and soft music began to play. He took my hand in his. “Want to dance?”

“I’d love to.” The room was large, with a white couch and a coffee table to the back wall on the left side, an empty wall on the left side of the house with a large window that was closed behind long white curtains, on the right wall was a large flatscreen television with a cabinet to the other end. The cabinet held a stereo, books, and pictures, along with a trophy or two.

It was all clean and tidy without a speck of dust, which was the complete opposite of my room.

He took me into his arms, and I tried to remember the dances my dad had taught me when I turned eight, just before the divorce when I started going to school dances. It had been awkward, tedious, but funny because I had two left feet, but Dad kept trying to show me how to at least do a basic box step, as he called it, and even that had been difficult. I just couldn’t loosen up enough to let anyone lead me because I kept trying to think of the next step I needed to take more than on enjoying the dance and going with the flow.

Dad had never given up and would still dance around with me in the living room, even though I’d step on his feet sometimes, or go in the wrong direction often. “I’m not very good at dancing.”

“I don’t mind,” he said as he pulled me close to his hips and we started to move in time with the song.

I stumbled a couple of times, but Carlos never complained. “Look at me.”

“Sorry?” I asked, startled at what he’d said. How was I supposed to dance if I didn’t look at my feet?

“Look up into my eyes.” The smile went all the way up to his eyes.

I inhaled sharply at that look. It made my heart stumble around in my chest. I managed to follow his lead for a few more heartbeats without any missteps, but then, somehow my leg caught with his and we stumbled to the ground and became tangled together on the floor.

I was on top of him, completely embarrassed, my head on his chest. But then I became aware of his cologne, of the way his chest shook and looked up. He was laughing.

“I’m so sorry. I told you I was bad at dancing,” I said quickly and made to get off him, but he stopped me.

“It’s fine, really, it’s adorable how very bad you are at dancing.” He let his head fall back on the floor but then he looked back up at me.

Something in those dark brown eyes had changed and I forgot to breathe.

“Carlos.” I exhaled his name, my eyes locked on his. His eyes held the same awareness as mine.

My sweater was tangled around my bra-line, his body nestled between my thighs and I felt a hard line pressed into me that was obviously his cock. Hard and ready for me. I moved my head, closer down to his, our lips so close I could feel his breath.

“No, not yet, Tessa.” I heard him say but his lips said something different when they brushed against mine softly. There was an extra movement that didn’t come from a word “No,” I repeated, my hands going to each side of his head, my thighs holding him still as I leaned down to kiss him properly, my lips sucking at his bottom lip.

“We shouldn’t yet, Tessa…” he started to say, but I smothered whatever else he might have said when I pressed my lips back down to his.

I moaned when his hand slid from my hips and down around to my bottom where he cupped my ass and pressed me deeper onto his obvious erection. We fit together perfectly as he pushed me down, urging me to press down into him. I did and the way I was seated on him made that ridge press into my clit. I moaned softly against his lips.

“No, you’re right, we shouldn’t. You’re right. We should wait.” I let my eyes close as he pushed his hips up into me, grinding into the tender spot so well that I saw sparks behind my eyelids.

“But my dick wants to be in you so much, Tessa.” He moaned as his control slipped, at last. His hands moved, pulled my head down so he could take my mouth in a fierce kiss that made me groan with happiness as he gave in to my needs.

I heard the way we both breathed, harsh and fast as our tongues tangled and our hips moved together in a rhythm as old as time itself. I could feel how my blood sang in my veins, the larger, second glass of wine I’d had with dinner made my head spin. As his kiss became more frantic, as if he couldn’t get enough of my taste, I decided it wasn’t the wine, it was just Carlos. I didn’t really care what caused it, I just wanted him to keep thrusting, his hips into mine while we pushed clothes away with our hands.

Mine pushed his black t-shirt away, baring the taut muscles of his chest, while he pulled my sweater over my head. Both items of clothing disappeared and then my bra went too. I sighed with bliss when his hands cupped my breasts and he pulled me back down for a kiss. Skin to skin, I whimpered a little at just how heady it was to feel him against me. I’d noted how different it was to touch and be touched by the twins and the triplets, and Carlos was no different. He went straight for my breasts, while I explored the soft texture of his skin.

He had a line of hair over his chest and down to his abdomen that I found fascinating. This was something else that was different to the other men, he had hair on his chest, something totally new for me. I ran my fingers through it and decided I liked it. It made him special.

When his right hand moved from my breasts and down my back, to slide into my jeans, I stopped him. Was I forcing him into this? “Are you sure, Carlos?”

Normally, it was the men asking me this, but I felt a twinge of guilt and wanted to be sure. That and I was terrified of the feelings I realized I had for him. We might not have had sex, but we’d had long conversations, deep conversations, and I’d spent time with him that had allowed me to come to be…fond of him. Maybe not in love, maybe so, I wasn’t sure, but it complicated things for me.

I didn’t want to just fuck and leave him, and that scared me. I wanted to explore all that sex could be with him, sure, but I also wanted to get to know him better. I also wanted to hear him sigh my name as he sank into me, as he fell asleep beside me, as he woke up next to me, and that was fucking scary. Did I want to take this further than I already had? Should I? Would it be fair to him?

I looked into his eyes and I saw those same needs there, those same desires that were more than sexual desire. There was also doubt there, and that stung a little.

Why hadn’t he said anything, I wondered as the seconds ticked by and I sat up a little straighter.

“I’m sure, Tessa. I don’t know what your plans for the future are, and I don’t know if I can always ignore the other men in your life, but I have to know what it feels like to be inside of you, what it’s like to come wrapped up in you. At least once, or the wondering will kill me.” His lips captured mine and my doubts melted away. One time, maybe only one time, but I’d take that once and cherish it forever if I had to.