by Daisy Allen
In the most beautiful place I’ve ever seen.
“Come on!” Marius yells and we’re on the move again, his hand never moving from my wrist as he pulls me across the street and over the grass field.
“We are we going now?” I can barely get out between pants and giggles.
“You ask too many questions, we’ll miss the train!”
I look around and I can’t see any train tracks anywhere let alone a train. And what a waste, a huge locomotive would ruin the scenery anyway. “What train?”
“That one!” Marius points through a gap in the trees, still dragging me along.
I try to squint to see through the gap in the trees, and when I finally see it, instantly drop to the ground, hugging my sides in laughter. Marius stops in his tracks once he realizes he’s lost me and comes running back, prodding my aching side with his foot.
“Ahem, and just what is so funny?”
With some effort, I roll over to my side, one hand shading my eyes to look up at him, the other pointing in the direction of the lake. “That’s not a train!”
“It is TOO!”
“It’s… a… it’s a…” I can’t finish my sentence from laughing so hard.
“It’s a what? It has carriages and a driver and they take money to ride it!”
“It’s a teeny tiny toy train!”
“A-ha! But train nonetheless!
“I was expecting a big one like the one we came on to get here.”
“That’s silly, it would ruin the view!” He scoffs, his arms still akimbo, looking at me disapprovingly.
“Exactly!” I dissolve into a fit of giggles again at the look on his face.
“Come on! Toy train or not, we’re going to miss it!” He grabs me by both hands and drags me to my feet.
The only reason I can move is because he’s dragging me along.
We finally reach the thing he insists on calling a train and find one last empty carriage right on the end. Marius pushes me onto it, and slides in next to me, each compartment only fitting two people.
“Oof,” he says, squishing his body against me. “Kinda tight in here.”
“Biiiig train.” I can’t help teasing him. And he pouts playfully for a moment, before digging his finger into my side making me squeal. He waves to the driver who holds his hand out for payment and then we’re off.
The open carriages rock gently as the “train” pulls out and onto the cement pathway that hugs the bank of the lake. On one side of the train the multicoloured sails of the motor boats lining the water’s edge are bright and brash against the crystal blue sparkles of the lake water. On the other, the grass field is coming alive with families with their picnic baskets who are coming out to enjoy the new Spring sun.
The backdrop of the mountain is dramatic and serene all at once.
I feel Marius’s hand squeeze mine and I turn to smile at him. He smiles back and drops a kiss to my forehead.
I’m in heaven.
The train ride is short, too short. It takes about five minutes to reach the end of the pathway leading around the mouth of the lake.
Everyone but me jumps out, including Marius, he takes off on a run. He finally comes back to the train once he realizes I haven’t gotten off.
“What are you doing? Come on!”
I shake my head, pouting. “I don’t want to! I want to go again!”
He shakes his head and reaches for my hand. “Stay on what?”
“Ugh, fine. I admit it, your stupid train ride was fun. I want to go again!”
He laughs and leans in, “We can ride it again on the way back, how ‘bout that?”
“How much does it cost?” I ask, before realizing how stupid the question is.
“Who cares, I’ll buy the whole damn train for you, if you want, Anca. Anything in the world you want, I’ll make sure it’s yours.
And as much as it was said to placate me, I can’t help but smile at the sentiment. I let him help me down off the train, and I’m glad he made me disembark when I see what’s there.
Compared to the epic field of thick green grass that lays out in front of you like a carpet on the other side of the lake, this side is flanked by a gorgeous, romantic garden, filled with different flowers of every colour, of every fragrance.
The garden is covered in new blooms, pops of pink, orange, purple, blue in every bush, every corner.
“I love it.” I sigh, running my fingers through the bushes. “I especially love that there are no dahlias.” I say, not meaning to.
“You don’t like dahlias?” Marius asks.
“No, they remind me…of a different time.” I say and bury my face in a rose hoping to change the subject.
“See that tree over there?” Marius points to a tall birch in the middle of the garden. “Last time we came here a group of kids kept throwing their ball up there and getting it caught. They kept coming over and asking one of us to help them get it down.”
“And did you?’
“Well, not me, I’m not tall enough.”
“So, Jez.”
He laughs, “Yes, Jez would go over and shake the whole tree. The ball would come tumbling down and then 10 minutes later they’d come over and ask him to help again. Finally, he just went over and joined them, playing goalie and catching the ball and stopping it from even flying up there.”
I laugh, easily imagining him doing that. He’s always been good with people, with kids. With me. My face drops a little, at the memory of his face as we drove off before. The last thing I want to do is to make him sad or worry.
“Hey,” Marius nudges me, sensing the sudden change in my demeanour, “let me show you something.”
I follow him, his fingers entangled in mine. We walk across the park and over to a bench in the far back. He leads me around it and then points to the back of it. There are a bunch of carvings, ragged initials dug into the wood with a pen or sharp nail, some circled by a lopsided heart shape. And then I see it, “M ‘98” I read. That’s it, no other initials, and definitely no heart outline.
“That’s you.”
“Yeah. I came here for the first time with my parents over twenty years ago.”
“That’s cool.”
“Yeah, it’s my favorite city in the world, after London of course. After the first time, seeing how much I loved it, they’d bring me here all the time.”
I nod and run my fingers along the jagged lines of his initials.
“You were lucky.”
He smiles, “I was.”
And suddenly, it hits me. A sadness I haven’t let myself indulge for a long time. I try to swallow the sob, but it just catches in my throat and makes it louder. I turn away from Marius, running towards a dark corner in the garden. It’s not as manicured here, it’s wild and slightly overgrown. It fits my mood.
And I’m crying. Hot, thick, salty tears are streaming down my face and there’s nothing I can do to stop them. I cover my face but that just splashes the wetness against my cheeks, so I just let them fall. A river of sadness as the ache burns hot and searing in my chest, like a blazing iron ball, weighing me down. I feel rough grass and pebbles under my knees, I barely realize I’ve sunk to the ground. But I’m not alone. There are arms around me, and hands in my hair and warm breath against my ear, cooing to me, comforting me, letting me know that all I have to worry about is letting it all out, to release the valve on my pain, and lighten the burden.
“I’m here, darling. I’m here. Just let it all out,” he whispers, and there’s a husk in his voice, as if he understands the pain I’m going through. But he doesn’t, he can’t. His parents are still alive.
“Oh god, I miss them so much,” I hear myself sobbing. And I do. God, I miss them so much. I miss them with every breath I take, with every step I take, with every note I play. I miss them so much, I don’t know who I am and where I want to be going.
His arms grip tighter around me, and I feel him move, my face is pressed against his chest and his heartbeat is racing against my ear. A
sob chokes in my throat and I feel my body shake to get rid of it.
“Make it go away, Marius… please, just make it all go away.”
I feel myself look up at him, his face is blurry through my tears but it’s him. And the look in his eyes isn’t pity, it’s… it’s something else. Something I’ve never seen before, from anyone. It’s something I want to get lost in.
“Marius, please,” I beg him, knowing only he can ease the sorrow in my heart right now.
“Anca,” he whispers, taking my face in his hands.
And my lips are on his.
Hard and desperate and hungry and urgent and frantic.
And suddenly, it’s not an escape I’m looking for.
It’s a destination.
Him.
Chapter Twenty
Marius
“Anca,” I try to say. It comes out muffled between the frenzied movement of our lips against each other.
I don’t even know why I’m saying her name. It’s not because I want her to stop. It’s not because I want to stop, I don’t think I could if I had a gun to my head. Maybe it’s to remind myself that it’s her, it’s her that I’m kissing. This tempestuous witch who’s taken over my body and mind since the moment I saw her at the bar just a week ago. From someone I couldn’t pick out of line up, to the reason underlying every single one of my decisions.
I’m kissing her, or she’s kissing me, or we’re in this equally together.
“Marius,” she sighs, and the blood rushes to my head, dizzying me.
She pulls away, her lips even fuller and more luscious than usual from the crushing of my mouth against hers.
She bites it, as if aware that it’s puffed up against the whiteness of her porcelain skin. My hand reaches up to cup her face, and it’s wet. She’s been crying.
Oh my god, you utter fuckhead, she’s been crying and you’re taking advantage of her?
“Shit!” I curse myself and pull my hand away, rubbing my temple with my other hand.
Her eyes instantly narrow slightly, there’s a furrow of her brow. “What?”
“I’m sorry, fuck, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t… no.”
“No, what?”
“No, we can’t be doing this?”
“Why not?’
“Because YOU… you’re upset, and I… ugh, when you kissed me, I just couldn’t stop.”
“You weren’t… aren’t supposed to stop.”
“Then why did you pull away?”
“Because I still need to breathe,” she says, and there’s a tone of defiance in her voice.
“I think we both need to breathe,” I tell her, getting up on my feet, pacing back and forth in front of her.
She doesn’t say anything for a moment, just watches me. I try to ignore her eyes on me, knowing if I look at her, all logic, all reason leaves me.
Finally, I turn back to her. She’s still on her knees, her hands on her lap, looking up at me. Her eyes are still glistening, wide, bright, her pupils open, and her lips haven’t lost their plumpness. And all I want to do is take her in my arms and make love to her. All that vulnerability, all that longingness, I want to dive in and bathe in it. And I want her to bathe in my want and yearning for her.
“Anca,” I sink back onto the ground in front of her, taking her hands in mine, “what are we doing?”
She shakes her head, as if ruminating over the stupidity of my question. Then she stops, and looks at me, pupil to pupil, as if nothing exists but us.
“We’re living, Marius,” she says. “You said it, now or never.”
Now.
***
The train ride and walk back to the hotel is done in silence.
Her hand never leaves mine and my eyes never leave hers.
Everything that needs to be said before we do this, is being said without words.
Leaning towards the elevator door, I press the button for our room’s floor, her hand still gripped in mine, as if there’s an understanding that if we let go, this all disappears in the wind. Let’s hold on, at least for these moments.
The ding of the elevator startles us both, and the doors open. There’s a hesitation. I’m not sure from whom, but neither of us race to step off. I smile at her and she looks away for the first time. But just for a moment, then she leans in and presses a soft, gentle kiss to my cheek before stepping off the elevator and leading me to her room.
Pulling the key card from her pocket she slides it into the slot and pushes the door, and I follow her inside.
For the first time, we let each other’s hands go, and stand there in the foyer of her room, staring at each other.
“Anca,” I say, and it’s the first thing I’ve said to her since we left the park.
She smiles and presses her finger to my lips, shushing me. Pulling her finger away, she replaces it with her lips, and then the hunger for her reignites in my torso.
“God, Anca,” I say, this time, and my own voice sounds somewhat erotic in my own ears, saying her name.
“Marius, take me, make love to me,” she whimpers, and those words, her voice saying those words, redefine what eroticism is in that instant.
I take her hand and pull her arm over my neck as I scoop her up into my arms.
I lay her on the bed and she pulls herself up onto her knees. I sit on the edge as I watch her.
Watch as she hooks her fingers into the straps of the dress and slides them off her shoulder. The dress slinks down her body and, oh god, she’s not wearing a bra. And she is… she is exquisite.
“Anca,” I say again, this time with barely any breath left in my body.
She smiles and holds her hand out to me, I take it, gently. She giggles softly and yanks me against her, and I fall, losing my balance, against her. She helps break my fall with her hand on my shoulder, but then my mouth finds her. Her skin. The soft, silken, milky white luxuriousness of her flat but soft stomach, the valley between her breast, her décolletage, and then, fuck, holy fuck, her breasts. Her plump, gorgeous, soft, delectable breasts. What little patience I had is lost as soon as her nipple hardens at the first touch of my cheek against her, and I suckle on the sweet, pink nub with an urgency I’ve never felt. Her moans vibrate from the pit of her stomach and I move my mouth to her other nipple, flicking the tip with my tongue, feeling it tighten and swell in a matter of split seconds.
Her hands are in my hair, massaging the sides of my head, and I wonder how it can get better than this.
“Marius. Don’t make me wait. I’ve waited for you long enough. Make love to me. Now,” she says.
I pull off her, off the bed and she sits up, following me. I fumble with my belt, but she reaches out, replacing my hands, unbuttoning my jeans and sliding the zipper down. Her hands graze my hard cock as she does, and my whole-body freezes.
Fuck.
God, I want her so bad.
She looks up at me, a soft smile playing on her lips, and there’s something so sweet about her that I crave. I lean over to kiss her.
As I do, she slides my pants and briefs down my legs, and when I finally pull away, I’m hard and ready in front of her. She bites her lips, looking at my cock and then back at me.
I can’t help but chuckle at the sexiness of her look.
“No, bad girl. You can’t touch me until I’m inside you or else this will all be over way too fast.”
“Fine, I just hope that you recover fast then.” The look she gives me is sly and I almost blow on the spot at the thought of her mouth wrapped around me.
It’s a delicious thought, but not what I want.
I want her.
I want to be inside her.
Taking her and giving to her, everything.
I pull my t-shirt over my head as I kneel on the bed, and she moves up higher, her hand bracing against the bed head, her breasts, her goddamned fuckable breasts exposed to me completely. I pull the dress down her legs and trace my fingers over the soft purple cotton panties covering her from me.
�
�God, Anca.” I say, feeling the fullness of her lips against the fabric.
“Hmmm, Marius, stop playing,” she murmurs.
“Oh, baby, there’s no chance of that. My job is to play and make beautiful music, remember?” I whisper into her ear as I lean over her, my fingers hooking into her panties and pulling them down. She lifts her hips, helping me help her get naked. “And I’m going to make you whimper and moan and scream and beg until you’re hoarse. You’re my instrument, darling. And I’ve been waiting a lifetime to play you.”
With my last words, I dip the tip of my finger inside her, and she arches against me. I hold her wrists against the headboard with one hand as I ease my finger all the way inside her. She groans, and it matches mine when I realize how tight she is.
This witch has me spellbound for life.
“Marius… please,” she begs me softly, my name like syrup spilling from her lips.
“’Please’ what, darling?” I murmur into her ear as my finger delves deeper into her, feeling her warm, wet, softness squeeze around me, giving me a preview of what’s to come for my cock.
Her eyes close and her head shakes from side to side on the pillow as her hips rise again, pushing against the hand playing with her sex, getting her ready.
“Say it, Anca, I want to hear you say it,” I urge her, my need growing so fast, I don’t know how much longer I can hold out on my threat that I will tease her until she begs me for it.
My thumb reaches for her clit, circling it gently for a moment before running the tip over it. Her whole body jumps and her eyes fly open, her tongue darting out to run over her lips.
“Marius!”
I grin at her, her reaction to my touch on her most sensitive spot.
“Yes, darling?”
“Stop playing…”
“And…?” I prompt.
She reaches for the back of my neck and pulls my face to hers, pushing her mouth against mine, kissing me so hard my teeth graze the inside of my lips. But I don’t care. This is the Anca I want, alive, filled with need and lust… for me.
I pull away and she looks at me as if I’ve betrayed her.
“And...?” I prompt her again. “Stop playing and what Anca?”