by Anna Rezes
When the rain began to lessen, I said, “This might be the best we get before the next wave hits.”
The sirens were still going off, and now my phone was reading tornado warning, but it didn’t look like the funnel cloud was in our direct line. “They spotted a tornado, but it’s not close. How long is it back to the hotel?”
“Fifteen minutes,” Collin said, pulling back onto the road.
“Collin you’re getting double time for this buddy.”
“Make that triple,” I said.
“I didn’t realize I would have to risk my life to come pick you up,” Collin said with a laugh. “How was your time at the winery, anyway? Did people like the feathers?”
The tension in the car eased, and I said, “I got some kind words, but I think they were pity compliments.”
“I complimented you,” Oliver said, “That wasn’t pity.”
The rain was still coming down when we reached the hotel, but the sirens had stopped. I insisted on paying Collin and sent Oliver to retrieve my shoes from the trunk.
“Seriously, thank you,” I said to Collin. “Please be safe.”
He assured me he was done for the day, and I got out of the car. Oliver closed the door, and we walked into the hotel.
We received a lot of looks on our walk through the lobby, and I had almost forgotten how ridiculous we looked. We boarded the elevator, and I admitted, “That car ride was the scariest of my life.”
“What, you act as if you’ve never driven through a tornado before?”
“Well, excuse me for not being cultured. I guess I like to play it safe when it comes to mother nature and deadly machines.”
He laughed. “Did you just refer to cars as deadly machines?”
“They are.” We exited the elevator and walked toward our rooms.
“When I see a car, I have never thought, ‘oh, look at that deadly machine.’”
“Shut up,” I said, shoving him as he pulled his room key out of his pocket.
We bypassed my room, and he opened and held his door for me. I entered ahead of him. The lights were off, and the curtains were partly drawn. The light coming in from the window gave the room an unusual pink cast. Apart from the thunder rumbling in the distance, everything was quiet, and I was instantly more aware of Oliver.
He stood behind me, just inside the door. He dropped the gift bags, and instead of reaching for the light switch, he reached for me. He pulled my hair over my shoulder, and I leaned to the side. He placed feather-soft kisses up my neck to my ear, where he whispered, “I’m happy we didn’t die.”
I wanted to say me too but closed my eyes and moaned an agreeable noise. His hands on my shoulders, slid down my arms until they reached my hips. His fingers went to work on the ties of my dress, and I felt a shiver run through me. His lips met my shoulder, where he said, “If you want me to stop, just say so.”
I never wanted him to stop, but I wanted to touch him, but couldn’t from this angle, and when I tried to turn, he wouldn’t let me. “No, no,” he said, nipping at my neck.
If it was a reprimand, I wanted to be bad. I tried again to reach back and touch him, but he pinned my arms behind my back and walked me forward. I thought he was taking me to a bed, but he stopped and turned us toward the floor-length mirror.
Oliver lifted his head to look at me in the mirror as I watched him. He looked so damn sexy. His blue eyes were dark with desire. He rested his chin on my shoulder and said, “Do you know how gorgeous you are?”
I looked at myself in the mirror, surprised that I didn’t immediately focus on my flaws. Instead, I saw the beautiful woman Oliver was seeing. I was no longer the sad woman I’d seen for years. My dark eyes had lost their perpetual sadness and instead shone brightly. The feather-covered gold dress accentuated my curves, making me feel sexy and exotic. My wild hair fell in mussed waves over one shoulder while Oliver tucked his face into the crook of my neck on the other side.
He let go of my arm, and his hands worked on the back of the dress. I felt the material loosening at the top, but the lycra material was tight at the hips, so the dress didn’t completely fall away. Oliver’s hands slid under the material at my sides, his hands wrapping around my waist. He pushed the dress down my body, over my hips and it pooled at my feet like a bird shedding its feathers.
Cool air touched my body, calling attention to my nakedness. I lifted my head from the bundle of feathers, back to the mirror. I wore nothing but feather shoes and nude lacy panties. I moved to cover myself, putting my arms over my chest.
“You should never cover yourself,” Oliver said, placing his hands over mine. He pulled my hands away from my chest and slid them down my stomach to my hips. He left them there and slid his hands back up to cup my breasts. “Look at you,” he whispered in awe.
It was erotic to watch his hands roam my skin. His right hand glided down my stomach to slide beneath the nude panties. They weren’t my sexiest pair, but they were the only thing that didn’t show through the dress.
If Oliver was bothered by the nude panties, he didn’t show it. His hand dipped further until the material covered it. He groaned a sound of pleasure. His fingers slid between my folds while he used his other hand to tease my breasts. His fingers circled my nipples without touching them. My need for him grew, and the cool air no longer bothered me as my body heated, the flush visible in my cheeks.
“Oliver.” I pushed my ass back into his erection. “I need to touch you.”
His answering groan wasn’t enough. I tried to spin, but he held me against him. “Stay still.”
He moved around me, putting himself between me and the mirror. I was fine with that. Our mouths met in frenzied kisses, and I gripped onto him, needing him as much I needed my next breath. He took a step, guiding me back. I stepped out of my dress and kept moving with him until my back was pressed flat against the narrow wall between the bathroom and the rest of the space. It was directly across from the mirror, and I wanted to know why he wasn’t taking me to bed.
He broke our kiss and fell to his knees in front of me. His hands singed me with their heat as they slid down my body. My fingers went to his head, and I pulled his hair from its ponytail. I ran my fingers through it as I felt his breath hot against my panties.
The heat sent a shiver through me, and then his mouth kissed over the material. It was pleasure and torture wrapped up in one. It felt so good, but I wanted more. As if sensing this, he tugged my panties down and left me in nothing but my feather heels.
I caught sight of us in the mirror and holy shit! It was such an intimate experience, and seeing it all happen in the mirror was almost enough to make me orgasm. My hands were in his dark hair. His stubble rubbed the inside of my thighs. His breath sent a chill through me, and I arched back against the wall, my exposed chest peeked with excitement as color tinted my cheeks. As his tongue tasted and teased, I watched without shame, feeling the natural euphoric confidence that came with carnal desire. I’d never seen myself in the throes of passion before. It was sensual as hell. My libido had finally earned her overtime.
He lifted one of my knees and moved it over his shoulder, so he had better access. When he hit the right spot, I arched my back, my head falling against the wall. My eyes closed from the pleasure, but I opened them right back up, so I didn’t miss a thing.
Oliver
I didn’t know that it would ever be enough when it came to Willa. The taste of her. The feel of her skin. The sound of her little moans. Those manicured nails scraping against my scalp, tangling in my hair, and holding me in place was all too much, but it wasn’t enough. I held onto her while she arches into me, lifting onto her tiptoes. She was close, and I knew it was selfish, but I wanted to feel her orgasm while I was settled deep inside of her. I wanted to experience all of her, and even then, I didn’t know if it’d be enough.
I unwrapped her leg from my shoulder, and she made a noise of protest. I stood up and held onto her, kissing her and wondering if she tasted herself
on my tongue. She was so sweet, and I really needed her right then. I picked her up, cradling her. She kicked off her shoes, and I set her on the bed.
She propped herself up with both arms while I took a step back. I toed off my shoes and removed my socks. I looked up, catching her eye before I ripped open the front of the romper just like a stripper. She sat up, reaching for me.
I stepped forward so she could grab the romper and tug me forward. I loved it when she took control. I pulled the romper off my shoulders and pulled my arms out. It slid to the floor, and I stood there in my grey boxer briefs. She pushed her hands under the material to grab my bare ass. She pulled me closer as she pushed my briefs down.
I leaned into her. Planting my hands against the mattress, I lowered myself on top of her, devouring her plush lips as our mouths fused.
Her hand wrapped around my shaft, and she stroked up and down until it was dangerous to continue. I reached for the damn romper on the floor and pulled the condom from my wallet.
Once I had it in place, I fit myself between her spread legs and paused before entering. Her supple lips, red and swollen, beamed with erotic pleasure, and I wanted to extend this moment, but I couldn’t wait any longer. I dove in and watched her body react. Her eyes fluttered closed, and she moved against me.
She was tight and hot, and I needed more, so I picked up the pace and strength of each stroke. She gasped my name, and her body melted, compliant and at my mercy.
I wanted to kiss her, but I wanted to watch her more. I pulled her to the edge of the bed and stood to give myself better leverage. “Turn over,” I said, and she obeyed.
She was on her hands and knees in front of me, and I pulled her ass toward me and started right back where I left off. She pushed back into me, meeting my strokes. Her back curved like a stretching cat as her hands reached out in front of her to grip the duvet. With one hand, I directed her hips, while the other splayed between her shoulder blades and ran down her spine. I loved the shape of her and the dimples on her lower back.
I was too excited, and she was so wet and eager. I was going to lose it. The hand I had parked on her lower back wrapped around to her front. My fingers worked the sensitive bundle of nerves, and she stilled her hips and called out, as her body quivered.
Her pleasure sent me over the edge, and when the shock wore off, I discarded the condom and collapsed next to her. I tried to spoon her, but she rolled to face me.
We were both breathing heavily. Her hands cupped my cheeks, and she kissed me. It was warm and sweet. It wasn’t frenzied or urgent. It was a lazy kiss like we had all the time in the world. And we did. We would have a future outside of this hotel room—outside of our heartbreak. We would make room for one another in our real lives. I’d make sure of it.
When she pulled back, she stretched, and I couldn’t help but touch her skin. I ran my hand down her abdomen and stopped my fingers over the scars. “What are these from?” I asked.
“My surgery for my ovaries. My belly button has never looked the same,” she said, sticking her finger in her navel as if to make a point, but I didn’t see anything deformed about it.
“It looks good to me,” I said.
“Easy for you to say. You didn’t see it before.”
I chuckled because she was being ridiculous and cute.
“Don’t laugh at me,” she said without conviction.
“I can’t help it. I’m attracted to your brand of crazy.”
“You’re attracted to my crazy?”
I nodded because every time she said something brutally honest or acted totally bizarre; I fell for her a little more. “You’re so refreshing, and I don’t know that anyone has ever understood me the way you do.”
She smiled and cuddled into me before saying, “We’re so different, but there is a connection.”
The storms passed, but neither of us wanted to go out, so we ordered in. While we were waiting for our pizza delivery, Willa wanted to take a shower. I joined her, and we had really amazing shower sex. I couldn’t get enough of her, and I was afraid I might scare her away with my intensity. I know I was scaring myself.
Willa had gone to her room to grab a few essentials while I went for ice down the hall, filling the bucket from the room. Now, Willa was in my bathroom, drying her hair while I washed our new wine glasses in the sink.
When I finished, I carried them out to the little table by the window. I uncork a bottle of wine, fill both glasses, and set the bottle in the bucket of ice. When the pizza arrived, I set it on the dresser and placed the paper plates on the table.
When she came out of the bathroom in her robe, fuzzy socks, and beautiful curls, I was pouring wine into the glasses.
She stopped and stared, a small meaningful smile curling her lips. “How romantic.”
“That’s me,” I said, “The king of romance with our paper plates and fancy pizza.”
“I’ll take this any day over going to a hoity-toity restaurant where they make you pay twenty dollars for a soda,” she said, taking a seat.
Willa
It was the perfect evening. We ate our pizza and sipped wine. We were beyond playing twenty questions, and our conversations moved comfortably from one topic to the next.
When we finished eating, we moved to the bed and watched a movie. I fell asleep against Oliver’s chest, but woke after the movie had finished when Oliver arranged us, so we were lying together. My head tucked against his shoulder with my hand resting on his chest.
He covered us with the blanket, and my hand slid down his chest. He tilted his head toward me when he realized I was awake. I ran my hand up under his shirt to feel his skin.
It’d been so long since I slept with someone and somehow this act felt more intimate than sex. His hand moved on my arm, and he tilted my chin up to him. He kissed me once. It was gentle and lingering without a hint of lust. It was meaningful, speaking of more than sexual desire.
He turned onto his side, so we were facing one another. He cupped my face between his palms and smiled at me; my love reflected in his eyes. It was sincere and powerful.
He leaned in to kiss me, and his hands roamed, finding nothing but skin beneath my robe. His hands were lazy in their movements, savoring the moment.
He rolled up, his body hovering over me. He peeled his shirt off with unhurried anticipation. His shorts came off next and then it was just us, skin to skin with nowhere to go.
Our hands explored, touching, feeling, without words because our hands and eyes spoke for us. He slid back under the covers with me, and I rolled over to straddle him. When I had him posed between my legs, I whispered, “I don’t want barriers, Oliver.”
He knew what I was saying. No condom. “I’m on birth control, and I’m clean,” I clarified. “And I already know your history.”
He didn’t stop me, and with no further protest, I lower my hips and let him fill me. I was motionless, taking the time to welcome his magnificent presence.
He whispered my name, and his fingers ran through my hair. I started rocking against him, slow and steady, delighting in the sensation.
His hands skimmed my body, from my breasts to my hips and back up again. He watched me with intense fascination. Then he rolled me, so I was lying on my back, and he was over me, letting me feel his weight without it crushing me. He continued our leisurely pace.
We had sex when we got back from the winery. We fucked in the shower. But this was neither of those. This felt a lot like making love, and I couldn’t remember the last time I made love to Evan, but it never felt like this.
Oliver kissed me, our tongues tasting and relishing in one another as he drove into me over and over, slow and steady. His face fell to my shoulder, and he whispered in my ear, “You feel incredible, Willa. I will never get enough of you.”
His pace increased at my moan of pleasure, and he pumped faster, stronger, deliberate. His strokes said I love you. The kisses he rained down my neck, screamed, I adore you.
Drenched and needy, I f
elt every stroke like it was a mini orgasm. His release came, and the pleasure on his face was beautiful.
He relaxed on top of me, and I loved his weight. I felt safe, like nothing in the world could ever hurt me so long as Oliver was there to protect me. He understood me better than Evan ever had, and sex with Oliver was addicting.
We cuddled for a little while, and I wanted just to lie there next to him and fall asleep, but eventually, I said, “In romance novels and movies couples always snuggle and fall asleep after sex, but that’s not real life. Every woman knows to pee after sex. I get that it’s not sexy to talk about, but you know what else isn’t sexy? Urinary tract infections.”
Oliver’s laugh was soft but deep, vibrating like a purr of contentment.
I didn’t want to get out of bed. I didn’t want to detangle our limbs, but I pried myself away and went to the bathroom.
When I crawled back in bed, Oliver pulled me in, spooning me, and I fell asleep almost instantly. I must have rolled onto my stomach because I woke a little while later when Oliver’s fingers made featherlight circles on my back. He kissed the spot below my left shoulder blade and laid his head there, whispering, “Birdie can keep her spot. But I’m claiming this side.”
“Mmm,” I moaned so he knew I heard before sleep pulled me back under, I heard him say, “I expect my own tattoo.”
Oliver
I woke to the sound of knocking. Willa was next to me, and she was blinking the heaviness of sleep out of her eyes as I propped myself up. I stood and searched for my boxers while Willa’s sleepy voice said, “Who the hell is pounding at the door at . . .” she leaned over to look at the clock, “seven o’clock.”
“Go back to sleep. I’ll take care of it,” I said as I slipped into my boxers.