The Sympathy Screw | 18+

Chapter 20 - Don't Get Dressed Yet

I needed to steer the conversation back to sex. "I'm not here for comfort. I'm not asking you to comfort me," I told him, moving closer, "unless you want to comfort me with that monster cock I haven't seen in four years?"

I moved closer and Nick's face changed. I put my hand back on his knee. "Please, Nick," I asked, "I've been dying to fuck you for four years."

At my own words, I got a little emotional. 'Dying'. Damnit, why did I have to choose that particular word? I tried to hide my face, but I think Nick saw.

"Violet," he told me, "let me be clear about something. I definitely want you. I may even care for you a little bit. But I haven't seen you in four years. I don't love you and I never did. I can't be that guy that comes in and makes it all okay, wipes away your tears, and makes the pain go away with kind words and puppies. If you just want someone to fuck, I can be that for you - hell, I might prefer a real relationship, but I'd certainly enjoy being the guy who gets to fuck you and doesn't have to work for it. But right now, less than a month after he died, you're going to be comparing everything to him, the 'very attractive' man who 'fucked like a stallion' and made love to you in your bed that you shared together. I won't be the first guy to fuck you after your dead husband. I can't be that guy for you because I just don't love you yet."

I frowned and turned from Nick and walked over to scoop up my dress from the floor. The alcohol was definitely getting to me as I muttered, "Great, I can't win. One guy won't fuck me because he loves me, and another won't fuck me because he doesn't!"

Nick, still sitting on the couch, replied, "Just because I said I won't fuck you doesn't mean you have to put your dress back on."

"What?" I asked as I made eye contact with him, still bent over, clutching my shed dress. My drunken haze, which I was beginning to admit that I was actually drunk, wasn't letting me comprehend what Nick had just told me.

"Violet," Nick said, patting the seat beside him on the couch, "can you come back over here?"

I walked over and sat back down beside Nick, holding my dress in my lap. Nick's arms circled my waist and he made eye contact as he asked, "Is there anything else you're hiding from me that I should know about?"

I gave my head a little shake. "Nothing else."

"Then let's take these off," he said, placing his hands on the clasp of my bra. A chill ran up my spin at his heated words and my nipples hardened again. Nick unfastened the clasp and tugged it forward and then down, but I covered myself quickly with my hands.

"But I thought you just said that you wouldn't -" I began, but Nick cut me off.

"And I won't. But that doesn't mean we can't give each other some pleasure, now, does it?" His eyes locked on my breasts, now covered by my hands. "Could you pull your hands away now, Violet?"

I gasped slightly at his words as I released my breasts from my hands, making my nipples visible before him. Nick sat there with his eyes locked on my breasts for another moment, then asked, "Can I touch you, Violet?"

As if my hands were moving of their own accord, I moved my hands to Nick's and placed them both on my breasts. His thumbs immediately began circling my nipples, earning a moan from deep in my throat.

Nick crushed his lips to mine as his fingers caressed and massaged my breasts, pushing forward against me as he kissed, so that I was laying on my back on his couch, my outer leg hanging off at an odd angle, the other I pulled quickly to the side so that he wouldn't crush it, meaning he was laying between my thighs.

For some reason, lately, I seemed to end up half-naked with guys that were fully clothed. That wasn't fair, in my opinion, and it just wouldn't do. I began tugging at the buttons of Nick's shirt, unsure exactly how far he would let things go. Once I tugged the hem out of his pants, Nick took his hands from me and I pulled back from the kiss and looked up at him. He had taken the lead I'd given him and began unbuttoning his shirt.