by Portia Moore
“How was your day?” he asks, and he seems genuinely interested, his eyes not glazed over like Ryan’s used to be.
I tell him about it, leaving out the part about Alex, and he apologizes for leaving me alone for so long. I let him know I understand he’s there for business and to not feel bad. He tells me that tomorrow he only has one meeting in the morning then he’ll be free the rest of the day; that perks my mood up even more.
I wear a free-flowing red wrap dress, put my hair up into a bun, and pair it with black strappy heels since we’re going to a Cuban restaurant for dinner. Jackson wears a black button-up with black slacks and a gleaming watch on his wrist. The color makes him look mysterious and sexy. I’m shocked when we arrive downstairs when the valet brings around a drop top Tesla Roadster. I’m so excited I can squeal. I turn to him.
“Can I drive?” He gives me a reluctant smile and tosses me the keys after tipping the valet. I’ve experienced some pretty invigorating nights in my twenty-three years, but being in Miami, driving on a perfect night with the top down and a gorgeous man next to you is at the top of my list. I glance over and see Jackson resting in the seat with a wide smile on his face. He looks exactly like how I’m feeling.
“This is awesome!” I shout out.
“It is sweetheart, it really is.” He agrees with me, squeezing my hand. I try to ignore how good this feels.
As we step into the restaurant the smell of delicious herbs and spices consume us before we’re even seated. The restaurant is beautiful. The deep rich colors of Mahogany and reds, romantic lighting, and Cuban décor makes me feel as if I’ve stepped inside another country. We follow the hostess who Jackson seems to know. The sounds of an accented melodic voice accompanied by a live band playing romantic sensual music echoes throughout the place.
“This is beautiful,” I whisper to Jackson, who leads me with his hand on the small of my back. A gorgeous hostess greets us and when her big brown eyes land on Jackson they light up with recognition.
“Senior Scully. So glad to have you back, we’ve missed you.” She welcomes him with a flirtatious smile. I feel a brow arch and she turns to me, giving me a small one.
“It is good to see you Catalina,” he tells her with what I wonder is a signature grin.
“This is Madison; Madison, this is Catalina.” We both sneer at each other. There’s an obvious tension and it’s broken when she says something to him in Spanish and I’m surprised when he answers her back in Spanish. I notice the way her gaze lingers on his lips and how her hand rests on his arm a few seconds longer than it should. I feel a tinge of possessiveness while my eyes narrow in on her. As we follow her I take her in; her hair dark like mine but her skin perfectly tan. She’s wearing a short black dress that shows off her legs and curves for days. And she’s young, maybe a little older than me. We sit down and I tell myself that she isn’t flirting with him, that I’m being jealous and possessive. And how can I? Because I’m not his and he’s not mine, and it bothers me a little more than it should. When we sit in a gloriously large L-shaped booth I find myself pouting and remind myself to get it.
If Jackson notices the tension he doesn’t say anything. When his big hand lands on my thigh and squeezes it, Catalina makes eye contact with me, and nods slightly before wishing us a good night and leaving. “The Sangria here is phenomenal; I can’t wait for you to try it,” he says excitedly.
“You’re a regular here?” I ask him, sipping my water. It’s cold and fresh.
“It’s one of my favorite places.”
“I bet,” I mutter, busying myself in my purse and pulling out my lipstick. When our eyes meet he’s smiling at me, amused.
“What?” I ask with an innocent smile.
“Are you jealous?” he says with half a laugh. I feel my cheeks go warm.
“No, not jealous. Just in shock she didn’t grab your dick, since she so obviously wants it in her mouth,” I say, applying my lipstick. He laughs out loud, wraps an arm around me, and pulls me close to him.
“I must be one lucky bastard to have the most beautiful woman in the room jealous.”
“I’m not jealous,” I protest, but before I can any further his lips are on mine, his tongue coaxing mine out, and we’re in a deep passionate kiss only broken when the waiter clears his throat.
“I am sorry to interrupt,” he says with a strong Cuban accent and a nervous smile.
“No, it’s a good thing you did; we might have gotten into trouble,” Jackson tells him and we all laugh. I inform the waiter that I haven’t had a chance to look at the menu, and Jackson asks if he could order for me. I shrug. I’m not a picky eater and love trying new things. We start with the Sangria Jackson raved about, and it’s like liquid silk sugar.
“Not so fast sweetheart, that can hit pretty hard,” he says with a grin. I roll my eyes at him but slow down. The food is amazing. We start with the most delicious Paella, destroy Lechon Esado, and still make room for surf and turf unlike any I’ve ever tasted, topped with the Cuban seasonings. The lobster is some of the freshest I’ve ever had. I feel like a stuffed turkey after we finish and pat myself on the back for not wearing a tight-fitting dress. Soon, Jackson is pulling me from the booth and leading me to the dance floor where the live band croons. He moves, light on his feet like he hasn’t just destroyed four pounds of food. He’s a great dancer. His body against mine, hands sliding all over me, the music, the alcohol…it all has me floating on a cloud. My blood is hot, my body starting to beg for what it’s gotten used to having.
“Are you ready to go?” he whispers huskily in my ear. I nod, biting my lip. He brushes his hand against mine and squeezes my ass. He pays the check and we rush out of the restaurant. This time he drives back, and the air feels even better than earlier. He turns on a Spanish love song with a sort of dancehall beat and it makes me start to dance in my seat. Jackson eggs me on and I love it, so I become more animated while singing along to the lyrics I just learned.
I’ve never felt more alive.
We can’t keep our hands off each other and as soon as the elevator door closes, our bodies collide. I’m against the wall, his hands under my clothes. I’m pulling at his pants. I want him right here, right now. I need him inside of me. He’s already hard and when he enters me I gasp, holding on to him for dear life. We’ve had sex before but this time he’s fucking me, and it’s primal and has me dripping wet already. To think about how I’m getting fucked by one of the most gorgeous men I’ve ever laid eyes on, who owns a million-dollar business and flies around in jets, staying in one of the most exclusive suites while in the elevator of the most expensive hotel I’ve ever been in. It makes me feel high, and the alcohol must not have him as uninhibited, but he’s moaning with me. I’m so loud…each thrust is deeper and faster than the last, and I know someone has to hear us. And then I see it, but it’s too late because both of us are on the edge of an orgasm.
“It’s a cam…a camera,” I point out, but I just bury my face in his shoulder as I tumble over the edge, and a few seconds later he’s spilling inside of me.
“Fuck,” he says with a laugh as we regain our composure.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t think,” he says, pulling himself from inside of me. I laugh and cover my face but it’s too late. He hits the elevator to start again. When it lands on our floor, before we get out I do a little curtsy and he bows; we make our way out in faux shame.
“I can’t believe we just did that,” I say as we both collapse on the gigantic queen bed, our bodies exhausted.
“You make me feel young again,” he tells me, his eyes gleaming, his mouth curved into a smile. It gives me butterflies and I attribute it to the Sangria.
“Best day ever,” I say, giving him a quick peck. He leans in and presses his lips softly against mine. My heart falls to the pit of my stomach. Because it’s tender. And tender terrifies me.
Five
Time is different when you’re happy. Seven days passed by like seven seconds. Jackson finished
his work by early afternoon and the remainder of the days were filled with things I never thought I’d be doing. Swimming with sting rays; Cognac tastings; jet skiing; my nights filled with expensive cuisine from countries like Japan, Lebanon, and Morocco; Jackson exposing me to things I never thought about but have so much more of an appreciation for; and each night topped off with insane sex, each day it being more intense than the day before, on the verge of lovemaking. Tonight is our last night here, my last day in fantasyland, the dream about to be over. It’s about to be seven and the backdrop to the beach is the most beautiful sunset I’ve ever seen. I glance over at Jackson, both of us kicking sand as we walk hand in hand. He’s impossibly handsome—his hair blowing in the breeze and his lean, muscular body a contrast to the sun. His smile causing butterflies to riot within me.
He’s so much older than me but still boyish with an energy and zeal for life. Yet he has a maturity that allows him to appreciate the world. My heart is sinking. I’m thinking about going back home, to my little room in Mel’s kingdom. A tear comes to my eye as I think about never seeing this man again. But that’s always been the plan. He never promised me anything and vice versa…just no strings attached fun. That’s what I wanted but now that thought is depressing.
As the trip comes closer to ending, my heart is starting to sink.
“What are those big blue eyes hiding?” he asks me as we continue to walk along the beach. It’s such a perfect moment; I want to save it forever.
“They’re not hiding anything,” I reply with fake bravado.
“You sure?” he asks, stopping in his tracks and pulling me to him so our chests touch. My eyes avoid his, and lock on his feet. He squeezes my hand urging me to spill.
“I was just thinking that the fairytale’s about to end,” I tell him with an artificial cheerful smile and half a shrug.
“Fairytale huh?” he asks, a smile tugging at his lips. He lifts my chin so that our eyes are locked.
“That make me Prince Charming?” he asks with a glorious smirk, and I bite my lip, because to my horror my throat is burning and I think I am about to cry. I don’t cry! I haven’t cried since…I can’t even remember and I’ve never cried over a man—especially one I’ve only known a week. Well, that’s not true. I cried over the first man to break my heart. But I push that thought away.
“You can’t be because I’m not a princess.” I try to joke and my voice catches. I pull away from him and walk towards the water. I can feel him when he’s behind me before his arms snake around my waist.
“I’ve had a fantastic time with you here,” he says, his voice solemn, and I’m glad we’re not facing each other because I’m so embarrassed at the tears prickling my eyes. I don’t know what the hell is wrong with me, I guess I’ve been dickmitized because there’s no way I should have feelings for a man this quickly. It can’t be real.
“No strings, just fun. I’m okay with that Jackson,” I tell him while pushing through the burn in my throat.
“What if I’m not okay with it?” My heart jumps.
“What if I wanted to keep seeing you after this?” he continues and turns me to face him. I fight the smile that’s attempting to break out on my face.
“Really?” I ask trying to play it cool but I know my expression gives me away. He gives me a soft genuine smile.
“I think you’re an amazing girl. You’re funny, and free. You’re not trying to pretend to be someone you’re not, you own your mistakes and are phenomenal in bed.” He says the last part with a suggestive smile and I fight a chuckle.
“Well, obviously there’s that,” I say wiping an unshed tear from my eye.
“I haven’t felt this great in years. I’m not ready to give you up yet, and if you can extend your vow to swear off men a little longer, maybe I can convince you otherwise?” he says with a smile no woman on Earth could say no to.
“I guess I can make an exception,” I answer sheepishly and then give into the gigantic smile I’ve been fighting off. This time I pull him into a kiss, and he lifts me in the air and spins me around. The tightness in my chest that’s been growing each day as the trip neared its end finally lets me free. We head back to the suite. Jackson is making sure his things are all packed. We’re supposed to shower together but Jackson gets a business call that keeps him on the phone for almost an hour so I decide to enjoy the ginormous bathtub one last time before crawling into bed. I wake up to spooning behind me and kisses on the back of my neck. They’re soft and light and make me giggle and soon his fingers are replaced by him inside of me. His lips claim mine, his tongue dominates me with each thrust, and our mouths don’t leave each other’s. This isn’t insane sex, or animalistic fucking. This is intense, deep, and slow…and it feels an awful lot like lovemaking. The fear that tries to squeeze my heart is quelled by the body-shaking orgasm that lets me drift off into a peaceful sleep.
Untitled
Six weeks have passed since I’ve come back from Fantasy Land, as Mel called my trip, but my fantasy has crossed over into my reality. Jackson Scully and I are dating, officially. Well, when he’s in town. But it’s been amazing. It became more real with us being together back in Chicago. Miami was like a dream but back in my home, my city is surreal. I’m not sick of him yet. I miss him when he’s gone and he’s woven his way into my normal. Thinking of him instantly brings a smile to my face. Thinking of our sex makes me hot and I tell myself all of this is normal because it’s so new and exciting, but the truth is I’ve never felt like this with a guy before. Maybe because Jackson is a man.
“Are you sure you’re not dickmitized?” Parker asks playfully.
“Of course I’m not. I’ve had good sex before,” I tell her slightly offended.
“Yeah but amazing sex in a tropical paradise, inside a penthouse drunk off of thousand-dollar champagne is totally different.”
“It’s not that. Trust me I wish it was, you know that’d be the easiest thing for me, the norm, but this is different. I’ve never felt like this before. You know that, Parks.” I need her to legitimize how I’m feeling. If she does I’ll know it’s real, but even if it’s real I’m not entirely sure what it means.
“I saw a Ted talk once that says you can fall in love with someone within the first five days of knowing them.”
“I’m not in love with Jackson. It’s just, it’s something different, that’s as equally scary as love. Something I don’t want to let go of but also makes me want to walk away.”
“Have you talked to Mel about this?”
“I’m not insane,” I tell her with a chuckle as I continue to paint my toenails.
“She hasn’t interrogated you yet, so you guys must be making progress,” Parker says sarcastically.
“She’s been at Greg’s most of the time and she doesn’t exactly know that I’m still seeing him,” I admit and Parker shakes her head with a knowing laugh.
“Mel’s not stupid, maybe she just doesn’t want to rock the boat,” Parker muses. No, Melissa would flip the boat over.
“I think she kind of avoids me when Greg’s around since he’s still not exactly thrilled about what happened with Ryan.”
“I avoid them, I’m not necessarily his favorite person after Ryan. I know I’ll have to deal with his indignation soon but hopefully I’ll have things figured out about my next move.” Thinking of Ryan causes guilt to creep over me, and I immediately push the thought away.
“So…we’re coming to New York next week,” I tell her and her eyes go wide with excitement as she claps her hands together.
“I get to meet the infamous Jackson,” she exaggerates, but with genuine enthusiasm.
“He’s not the president,” I say dryly.
“He’s the first guy that has you all shy and embarrassed, talking about him like an actual girl,” she enthuses.
“And not a deadly siren?” I throw her words back at her from earlier. She only blushes slightly.
“Oh we’re going to have so much fun,” she says, putting
on the last swipe of mascara. It’s fun getting ready for our dates on FaceTime, though not as good as being face-to-face, but it takes me back to our college days.
“We’ll probably only have enough time for dinner. We’re flying out the next morning because he has business in Boston the next afternoon.”
“I’ll take what I can get,” she says with a bright smile and a shrug.
“It’d be nice if we could double with Brad,” I say suggestively and she rolls her eyes.
“Will I get to meet the old chap?” I ask in my terrible English accent that Parker laughs at.
“I’m not sure, it’s not that important, we’ll see,” she rambles and I arch a brow at her.
“Are you hiding your new conquest Parker?” I say playfully while still in character, my English accent sounding more cockney than anything.
“Goodbye Mads,” she sings before we end our FaceTime. I see a text from Jackson. He’s not really into texting or social media like I am. He doesn’t have a Facebook, Instagram, or Snapchat. I guess that’s where sometimes his age difference starts to show but I think it’s cute and he’s gotten better with texting, but I like hearing his voice too so it works. Tonight we’re going on a date. It’s the only day he’s in town before leaving for Cleveland, and then New York, which I’ll be joining him for. I head into the bathroom to finish straightening my hair and hear the front door open. The hair on the back of my neck stands up. I take in a deep breath as I hear the door open, and I see them walk in. Mel in her signature black slacks and matching shirt and Greg’s face already set into a frown.
“Hey guys,” I greet them, trying to muster up some enthusiasm. It’s my first time seeing Greg since the breakup with Ryan happened.
“Madison.” He barely disguises his disdain for me. I give him a pass, seeing as I did walk out on one of his closest friends. I don’t expect a welcome parade but I am his girlfriend’s sister, so he could fake it a little better.