Used Ch. 04

Esme felt sick to her stomach. Some would have called it just desserts, being caught in the act by her ex and Barry's best friend, with Barry's sister and fiance to said ex/best friend on her way to join the party. It was a nightmare she just wanted to end, but it was too late at night for anyone to head back to the city. To top it off the snow had started up again, and didn't appear as though it was going to stop anytime soon.

As Esme stared out the second floor window she saw a CRV pull into the driveway, and the shouts coming from downstairs died down. Esme pushed off her towel, the one she'd hastily grabbed to cover up after being caught in the act, and moved into the bathroom. She'd turned on the shower ten minutes ago, before she'd moved into the bedroom closer to the door to see if she could make out any of what was being shouted downstairs, but had never gotten in.

Esme slid into the shower and the hot spray assaulted her skin. She squeezed her eyes shut and willed herself not to scream. What had they been thinking? That Ben would never find out? That they wouldn't care if he did?

"Em?" Barry's voice interrupted her thoughts. He'd made his way upstairs and was standing in the bathroom, his voice echoing off the walls. She opened her eyes to blue tile and perfect white grout. How did they keep it so clean? She opened her mouth to say something, anything-- they hadn't had a chance to talk when Ben had stepped out onto the porch. Barry had grabbed her a towel from the stack nearby and hurriedly covered her up before sending her into the house to change.

The fogged shower door drew back and she saw him , a towel around his hips. She knew that she knew he was naked underneath, that he'd not made it up the stairs to grab a change of clothes before the shouting match. Were their swim suits still outside on the porch? She allowed her gaze to lift to his face.

Esme wasn't sure what she was expecting from him, but the tender look on his face as his eyes swept down her body, and then back up to her face, was not it. She watched his perfectly formed leg lift as he moved to join her in the shower stall, watched trim hips tilt as he slid past her, watched his muscular chest stiffen as the hot spray hit him, watched his biceps as he brought his arms up and cupped her face in his hands. "Are you okay?" he asked, his thumbs following the line of her jaw back to her ears. A new heat flooded through Esme from within, starting between her legs and radiating outward. She nodded, stepping into his arms, leaning her forehead against his shoulder. His hands came down her sides, folded around her until she was pressed against him. One of his hands moved down her lower back, over the curve of her ass, and she trembled in response to his touch.

"I'm okay," she said into his chest, her eyes drifting closed as she tried to cling to the feel of him. Would this be their last shower together? Would he lose interest in their "illicit" affair, now that they had been outed? Would Ben's anger make him rethink everything?

Barry turned her around, away from the shower spray, and pressed her back against the opposite wall. The tiles were cold against her hot skin, provided just enough shock to bring reality back in. Barry knelt down in front of her, sliding his hands up the insides of her thighs, bringing his face close to her abdomen and kissing her softly, a few inches under her belly button.

His fingers teased at her, pushing the folds of skin open to reveal her clit, lowering his mouth and running his tongue over it. She nearly jumped in response, still sensitive from their last encounter, it felt like her body came back to life immediately.

"Won't they be waiting for us?"

"Are you worried about keeping them waiting?" He pressed his face closer, closing over her, then sliding his tongue down to taste her. Her nipples tightened in response to him, and her hips involuntarily rocked forward before she pushed his head away.

"Should we talk about this?"

Barry sighed, stood, and nodded. "We can talk," he said. "Let me get cleaned up first."

Esme frowned as he turned his back to her, grabbed the bar soap and began washing himself down. In just a few moments he was done washing away the evidence of their lovemaking and was pushing open the shower door and stepping out. "I'll wait for you in the bedroom, and we can go down and face the music together," he said, letting the shower door close without looking at her again. She felt words bubbling up her throat, but swallowed them back down. It was not the time for foolish thoughts or desperate professions.

Esme let her head fall back against the shower wall and closed her eyes tightly as tears threatened their arrival. She grabbed her louffah, spread some shower gel onto it and started rubbing herself down mechanically, overscrubbing until every inch of skin was pink, not just those places where he'd kissed and sucked and nipped at her. She turned the water off and stepped out of the shower, pulling a towel over her before realizing that she didn't bring any clothes into the bathroom. What to do? Go out and awkwardly change in front of him? Grab clothes and dart back into the bathroom to change, as if they hadn't spent most of the day naked together?

He was stretched out on the bed staring at the ceiling, hands behind his head and elbows out. He didn't look over when she exited, as if deep in thought or pointedly ignoring her. She wondered if she'd said something wrong, or failed to say something right. Had there been a moment where she could have prevented their slide down this slope where another failed relationship waited at the bottom.

Barry had changed into jeans and a navy merino half-zip sweater. She wanted to curl up against him and pretend none of this had happened, that they'd stayed in town walled up in her apartment, playing boardgames and only venturing out to those theatres they knew Ben didn't frequent, just as they had during the Spring and Summer and Fall. Quiet dinners and movie nights, no parties attended together, no group dates, but it had been comfortable, and it had come to feel safe.

Esme crouched by the dresser where she had tucked away her clothes and pulled on jeans and lime green long sleeved T-shirt, hoping some cheeriness would rub off on her. She then stood and sat gingerly on the bed next to Barry, having to reposition herself a few times before finding a position which would comfortably accomadate the towel wrapped around her hair. Barry continued staring at the ceiling, as if he hadn't registered she was in the room, so when he spoke she jumped a little.

"It's not like we could have gone on forever without him finding out," he said, pulling himself up and onto his side so he could look at her. "He is my best friend." This last bit came out at a lower volume, the inflection almost sad. Esme nodded, as much as the towel would allow, bracing for the worst.

"I mean, who were we kidding, right?" Barry sighed, rolling toward her and resting his head on her chest. "We had a good run, that's for sure."

Esme squeezed her eyes shut, willing herself not to cry. Willing this not to be happening. Willing her emotional life to go right, just this once.

"Ben is going to tell Audrey that I'm here with someone, and he's going to say we both know you, but he's going to leave out a lot. Obviously. He doesn't want to make her feel awkward, and frankly, neither do I."

Asshole. Esme bit her tongue.

"Your heart is racing," Barry said, holding still, his ear pressed to her chest as if it were the most natural thing in the world that he was pressed up against her breasts, his hand resting on her stomach while they sorted out the details of their break-up weekend. Had she ever not been able to leave after someone broke it off with her? Talk about feeling awkward.

Inexplicably, Barry's hand slid underneath the waistband of her jeans, a contented sigh escaping from his lips. Esme's breath caught in her throat. After a moment of stillness, Barry sat up, his attention on the door. "What is it? Did you hear something?"

He turned to look at her and she couldn't imagine how he interpreted the absolute bafflement on her face. He smiled at her, "Dry your hair and we'll head down together, okay? Audrey will probably want to watch a movie tonight. I think she brought back some beer."

**

Meeting Audrey and Ben downstairs had been superbly awful. Ben looked handsome in a grey henley t-shirt, and she could feel his eyes burning into her in the moments when no one was looking. Barry was oddly at ease, or at least seemed so, laughing and joking with Audrey and their uncle's likely intentional failure to mention to either Audrey or Barry that they would both have guests at the cabin for the weekend. Audrey had brought back plenty of beer to lubricate the awkward moments, and had immediately suggested they watch a movie she and Ben had brought with them. The movie, it turned out, was strangely sexually graphic for only being rated R. It was an uncomfortable show, because of what happened on screen, and what was happening off screen.

Ben and Audrey had settled into one half of the L shaped couch, while Barry pulled Esme onto his lap at the other end. This move had drawn a sharp look from Ben, which Barry either ignored or didn't notice. Esme wasn't sure what the movie was about, couldn't concentrate between her thoughts about the ruined weekend, or the way Barry had slid his hands inside her jeans under the blanket they shared. She tried to keep her face impassive, and was grateful the only light in the room was the light coming off the television, the fire having dies down considerably.

She wondered what Barry was thinking, found her eyes closing when he slid a finger inside her, briefly, getting it wet enough so he could slide his finger smoothly over her clit in small, rhythmic circles. Did he expect she would fuck him tonight, not caring that he was ending things between them. Did he expect her down on her knees in front of him in the bedroom upstairs, sucking him off? Would she resist either of these scenarios?

She squeezed her legs together but he persisted. She could feel Ben's attention on them, instead of the movie or Audrey who, two beers in, was already fighting sleep to stay awake. Esme shifted a little, trying to move off of Barry's lap, but he held her in place stubbornly. The only thing her movement accomplished was that she was made aware that he was just as aroused as she was. When she shifted her ass slid down further into his lap, sliding along his rigid cock, and causing him to inhale sharply.

Barry intesified the pressure his finger was exerting, altered the speed of movement, and a flush spread through Esme's body in response. She ached to be filled, to have his hands travel her body, up to her breasts. She ached for him to to pull her to her feet and drag her from the room, to pick her up and carry her into the upstairs bedroom. But that wasn't the point, it seemed. It seemed the point was to finger fuck her within a few feet of Ben. Was he trying to avoid detection, or hoping to be detected?

The action on the scene in front of them intensified, some sort of drug-related argument, and Audrey stirred. Barry's fingers stilled as she rose, tugging on Ben's sleeve as she sat up, motioning for him to follow. "Let's make some popcorn, do you guys want some?" she asked Esme. Esme could only nod. Ben glowered at them before they left the room.

As soon as they were gone Esme pushed Barry's hand away and climbed off his lap, headed for the half bath down the hall on weak knees and shakey legs. Barry stood up behind her and followed. Esme sped up, almost jogging into the bathroom, but he was right there, pushing his way in behind her. "What is your problem?" she demanded, hitting him on the chest as he shut the door behind them.

Barry looked confused. "What?"

"What was that?" she asked, turning on the cold faucet and splashing her face with water before toweling off and turning back to him.

Barry waited for her to turn around before stepped forward, accidentally bumping her and then backing up a step. She tried to count in her head how many beers she'd seen him drink. Three? Four? Was he buzzed? Drunk? "What?" he asked, his eyebrows drawn together in confusion.

"On the couch, what was that? Was that for Ben's benefit?"

Barry's eyes flashed in anger, and she stepped back almost instinctively. He stepped forward, pressing his chest into her space, backing her into the pedestal sink. "I was hoping that was for your benefit, and you seemed to be responding. Or were you just wet because Ben is here?"

She winced, tried to step around him, but he stepped sideways to block her exit. "You don't need to be hateful," she hissed. "Whatever you've decided is fine, if this is all over that's fine, but you don't need to be hateful."

Barry stilled, his mouth falling open. "If what is all over?" His eyes met hers, suspicious. She started to doubt what had happened upstairs, wondered if she'd misinterpreted everything. She couldn't have, because he'd only moments ago insinuated that she was wet for Ben, rather than him. Like some slut who would move from one man to the next. But hadn't she? What else could he think, deep down? He'd fucked her in Ben's apartment within hours of her fucking Ben. She didn't want to think about it. Forever the fuck buddy, never the girl taken out in public. Was she doing this to herself?

"They're going to wonder where we are," she said, side-stepping him again.

She made it past him this time and was reaching for the door handle when she was spun, and he was on her, pressing into her, his face inches from hers. "Are you telling me that you don't want to see me anymore?" His lips grazed hers, then lowered to her neck, his hot breath on her skin just before he kissed her collarbone.

Esme shook her head, suddenly short of breath, pinned against the door and smelling alcohol on his breath, and he was absurdly pretending that this was her idea. Her heart pounded in her chest as she tried to remain calm, not freak out. She could yell. He wouldn't hurt her here, with other people only a few yards away. But that was silly- he wouldn't hurt her at all.

"You said we had a good run," she shouted, surprising herself with the volume of the word. She must have surprised him, too, because he took a step back. Esme used the opportunity to flee the room. She was feet away from the stairs when she heard Audrey call out, "Popcorn!"

And she couldn't run upstairs and lock herself in the bedroom. She would look like a crazy person. And she wasn't going to give Ben the satisfaction of having an ex-girlfriend who fucked his friends, and was crazy. Barry was on her heels as she made her way back to the living room, he had pulled up beside her when they turned the corner to the living room, telling the side of her head that they needed to talk. She found herself under Audrey's watchful stare as she made it the couch, and Audrey handed her a bowl of popcorn. The girl was quieter, an intense stillness. The beer? The sleepiness? She seemed to have transformed in the moments she and Ben spent in the kitchen. Had they had a fight?

"Just salt," Audrey said, nodding toward the bowl. Esme took it gingerly, sensing something had changed, just not knowing what.

Barry was trying to get her attention, cocking his head toward the kitchen as if they should head in there. Esme ignored him and sat down on the couch, shoving a handful of popcorn into her mouth.

**

"That movie seemed excessively long," Barry said as they made it back to the room. She nodded absent-mindedly, still wondering about their conversation in the bathroom but determined not to ask him about it.

Barry closed the door behind them and caught her by the elbow, turning her toward him gently, his hand reaching out to cup her cheek before he kissed her softly, tenderly. He tasted like beer and salt, and she melted into him, forgetting the events of the day. She was the one to deepen the kiss, and he responded by pulling off her shirt, tossing it to the ground and returning his mouth to hers, hungry and demanding. They stumbled back to the bed together and he fell on top of her, his hands everywhere all at once. She couldn't have pinpointed when he got her free of the jeans, only realized he had her panties off when his face was between her legs and his tongue was plunging inside her. And she wasn't going to resist. She was going to fuck him, and suck him off, and not worry that they would part ways afterward.

She had overdone it with the beers, and found her head swimming slightly as she lay back, letting him devour her. She knew she should do something, like urge him onto the bed over her, so she could lick and tease and suck on him as he ate her out, but she couldn't imagine stopping what he was doing for even the few seconds needed to get him unclothed and inside her.

She gasped in surprise when his fingers entered her, two of them, moving in and out. His lips and tougue had her squirming and bucking against him, but her frantic thrust just resulted in his increasing the pressure of his movements. She felt her body getting close, waves of pleasure moving her toward the edge. Barry shoved a finger in her ass and she gasped, shivered as the sensations flooded through her. She moaned and bucked, and Barry brought his other hand up to clasp over her mouth.

"Shh," he said, and she was reminded of the people in the other room. Had they taken the bedroom next door? Barry's grip tightened over her mouth and suddenly his motuh was closed over her, and he was sucking on her clit as his thumb plunged inside her, his middle finger still buried in her ass. She came suddenly, violently, and his hand caught most of her cry. He moved off her, got up on the bed and she realized he had taken off his jeans already. As her orgasm does down he slid inside her, groaning as her pussy clenched around him.

Barry moved slowly at first, stopped moving long enough to pull off his sweater when he overheated, his body on fire. He resumed his movements, shuddering slightly at the sensations her body brought.

She thought he wanted to break up, it had only occurred to him in the bathroom that he was a poor communicator. She must have thought he was an asshole, telling her they were done then molesting her on the couch. What had he been thinking doing that, anyway? What was he trying to prove? He knew exactly what he was trying to prove.

Esme gasped underneath him, and he knew she would come again, come with him this time. He held himself back, kept his motions steady. What he wanted to do was plow into her, slam against her until he was covered in sweat and spent, and he wanted her to remember where he'd been when she stood up in the morning.

He knew she still thought he'd been trying to end things, but couldn't open his mouth to correct her. What could he say that wouldn't be tainted by Ben. If he told her he wanted her on his arm when he walked into a crowded room, would she think of this weekend when they did. If he told her he wanted her to meet his parents, would she think he was only saying it to soothe her? Would she think he was just drawing himself up to stand against Ben? She looked at Ben in a way she never looked at Barry, but for the life of him he didn't know what that look meant. Could he live with that?

Esme had brought her knees up and was now meeting his thrusts, her body wet with sweat, either hers or his or both. He got to his knees, pulling her hips up in the process, tilting them upward and giving him a view of his cock sliding into her, of her breasts bouncing. Perilously close to the edge, he swept a finger over her clit. She shattered, and his resolve broke. Barry let out a groan as he emptied himself into her, wave after wave of pleasure.