by Scott, S. L.
I hand him the cigarette, careful not to drop ashes on either one of us while passing it over. As I lean back against the doorframe, I watch his lips wrap around it and inhale. He appears peaceful as he relaxes. It’s the same relief smoking provides me. He taps it twice then exhales from the side of his mouth while keeping his eyes on me. With a small smile, he asks, “Why are you smoking anyway? I know you only smoke when you’re stressed, so tell me what’s on your mind, baby.”
I gulp, knowing I’ve been busted. I want to tell him all my inner thoughts, but I don’t want to concern him with my worries.
He hands the cigarette back to me and picks up my other hand, turning it over and kissing my palm. It’s such a sweet gesture that I know right then that I should talk to him.
“I’ve been thinking…” he says at the same time as I say, “I think we should…”
We laugh in awkwardness and I stub out the cigarette, tossing it in the sand bucket next to me.
“You go first,” he says.
“No, you go,” I insist, hugging my knees to my chest.
He takes a deep breath, and says, “I don’t know what I was talking about this morning. I want to be with you. I want to be with you fully, not half-assed or only in the moment. I want us to give this our all.” He looks back at the ocean nervously, obviously, not wanting to be rejected.
I sit up, taking his hand from his lap and kiss his palm, allowing myself the pleasure of lingering there momentarily before sitting up and exhaling my relief. “Thank God because I seriously don’t think my heart could handle not knowing if we’re real or not, just messing around or really giving this a go.”
I smile as I stand up then sit down, straddling him, making sure we’re pressed against each other for pleasure. He wraps his arms around me, pulling me closer and kissing me, and his length grows under me, making me squirm from the sensation.
“I love you, Evan. So much.” My voice is huskier than intended, wanting to be with him so badly.
“I love you, too, baby.”
I smother his words with my mouth as we kiss again, more urgently and needy than before. As my tongue swirls purposefully with his, our bodies began to slowly rock, and he pulls me down onto him harder. I reach for the hem of his shirt, yanking it off over his head and our mouths crash back together.
As soon as I start to grind, he abruptly stands up, and rushes us to his bed. It’s unmade and he trips on the sagging blanket that is half on the floor already, a mess from an earlier nap or restless sleep. The bed breaks my fall and he holds his weight as if suspended by his arms alone to catch himself, not wanting to crush me as he falls down on top. I can see every muscle move under the taut skin of his form. Lowering himself down, he rolls to my side.
I cup his face to take in the moment, to take in all of him, like this, to see him looking at me with desires only I can ease. He’s not holding anything back anymore. His eyes give him away, but I need to hear him confirm what I’m feeling, to know he feels the same. This tightrope is too precarious to linger on for long, so I move forward, risking it all, knowing he could destroy my heart if I’m wrong. “Babe?” I ask when his eyes start to close and he leans in to kiss me.
“Mmm,” he responds, his voice low, lips gently sucking on the skin at the nape of my neck.
My original thought escapes me under the intense heat of his lips on me and body caresses. I finally manage to mumble, “Foundation.”
He licks and nips my neck, all things gloriously sensual. “Foundation?” Hearing him repeat the word reminds me of what I was thinking. I pull away, an inch or so, and wait. He lazily opens his eyes, and asks, “What?”
“Us?” I softly breathe. “Do you think we have a strong enough foundation for us to last when we’re apart?”
His hands are under my shirt messing with the clasp of my bra, but he stops. When he lifts his head up, he looks straight at me and sighs then slowly climbs up the bed causing our legs to tangle with the sheet and blanket. Stroking my hair away from my face, his hand graces my cheek. “Yes, I do. Whole-heartedly.”
“This morning you thought we should—”
“I was giving you an out, Mallory. I thought after all that happened, you might want to slow it down, but the ‘I love you’s’ and this… I just can’t stay away. I won’t.” His eyes glance away as he takes a deep breath, the weight of the conversation showing in the heaviness of his sigh. When he looks back, determination is written all over his face. “I checked out Colorado—”
Emotions bubble to the surface and tears fill my eyes. I prop myself up on my elbows surprised to hear this. “You did?”
“I missed the deadline. I’d been thinking about going back to school, but couldn’t seem to reason myself into it until early last week.” He gulps, and a tear crawls down my cheek causing me to blink which makes another one fall. “Don’t cry, baby.” He wipes under my eyes gently with his thumbs.
“Why didn’t you tell me before?”
“I didn’t want to disappoint you, but it seems to be the only thing I’m good at these days.”
“That’s not true. You’re everything to me, and definitely not disappointing.”
That brings a smile to his face. “Well, I wanted to know what I was doing before I talked to you, to have a game-plan in place. I was also hoping the school would make an exception because of my transcript. I tried. You’ve got to believe that I tried. I made a bunch of phone calls to admissions and to the professors in the Psych department, but they’re firm on their deadline.”
Sliding onto my side, I press my cheek to his chest right above his heart, which is racing. Squeezing him to me, I say, “I can’t believe you’d move for me.”
His fingertips dance across my back. “You were right before. You’re settled there and graduate soon. I’m floundering out here, escaping, but I don’t have to anymore. I’ve found,” he starts, his voice not even loud enough to be called a whisper, “a purpose.”
I roll onto my back, pulling him on top of me and kiss him with everything I’ve got. His hips automatically start to move against mine, but our legs are still tangled in the blanket. Surprising me, he jumps to his feet and I feel a rush of cold air blow across my body. Pulling me by the ankles to the end of the bed, he commands, “You—Get naked!”
Without hesitation, I get up and start removing my clothes as he gathers the bunched sheet and blanket and throws them to the floor. I toss my shirt and drop my skirt. Apparently I’m too slow because he snaps the thin fabric of my panties at my hips before I even have time to remark, then my bra is gone from my shoulders, flinging through the air and landing on the couch.
He pulls his own shorts down, displaying his eager erection then takes my hand and pulls me into the bathroom. I stand against the closed door as he switches the shower on waiting for it to heat. His eyes are on me, eyeing me up and down, making me feel vulnerable, exposed as he drinks me in. “Come here, baby.”
I go to him knowing when our bodies are pressed together nothing else matters. All that troubles me fades away, leaving me with the perfection of the moment.
Trailing light kisses across the side of my face, his sweet words of desire flame between us. “You’re so beautiful.” The words fall from his lips and I weaken under them.
“I need you, Evan,” I say, embracing the spell he’s put me under.
“How do you need me? I want to give you everything you need.”
“I crave the feeling of you inside of me, making me feel whole again.”
My confession doesn’t scare him away, but brings him closer. He kisses me while maneuvering me into the shower under the warm flowing water. Soap in hand, he lathers it up, and runs his hands tenderly down my body. Gliding over my breasts, his thumbs run across my nipples, making them stand for his attention. His hand slides down my stomach and between my legs, causing my breath to catch. Leaning closer, he whispers, “Breathe because I can’t when you’re not.”
“It’s all so surreal and perfect.
I struggle to breathe when we’re like this.”
“Take all of mine along with my heart then.”
That’s the moment I realize I don’t need anything else from him. I’ve already been given more than I ever thought possible—all of his love and devotion.
But even with all the swooning I’m doing over his sweet words, I’m still hot for the man and he’s in front of me wet and naked and seriously hard to resist, so I don’t. I reach my hand down to touch him in very naughty ways, but he takes my wrist and tsks me. “Eh, eh, eh! I have something else in mind.”
“You’ve got my undivided attention, Mr. Ashford,” I say while enjoying the warm water hitting my back.
He reaches around and slams the water nozzle off then opens the door. Cold air clashes against my heated skin and I instantly wrap my arms around my body. With his sexy smirk in full force, he says, “Go to the counter and show me how much you want me, baby.”
Although I’m wet, from head to toe, and cold, I’m hot on the inside and my breath is becoming harsher, making it more obvious that I’m turned on. I’m highly aware that Evan Ashford is the one who put me in this state. But I kind of love it when he gets all bossy on me. I walk toward the bathroom mirror and turn around then slide up on top of the counter, backing myself up against the mirror. His erection is sturdy, but it’s his expression I lust after the most. He’s beyond turned on. He’s ravenous for me.
Putting my feet up on the counter, I keep my knees together until his gaze trails down. Parting my legs, I give him a nice view as I touch myself. I’ve never done this in front of anyone else and definitely never imagined I would be doing this so comfortably in front of someone watching me so intently.
His eyes are focused on my small movements as I tease him while teasing myself. My mouth opens as the feeling intensifies, my eyelids becoming heavy with lust from watching him enjoy the show. I lean my head back against the mirror, closing my eyes and blocking out every thought I have except for one—Evan. Knowing this is a bad substitute for him, I still need more, so I slip a finger inside. But I need friction and one finger isn’t going to do it, so I add another.
A moan frees itself from deep within as I start to lose myself in the sensation. I’m ripped from my fantasy only to have it replaced by him in the flesh. He pulls me off the counter and spins me around to face the mirror, encouraging me to bend forward. When I do, I look into the mirror and see him ready, condom in place. Positioning himself, our eyes connect in the reflection, and then he enters me—confident, strong, and steadfast.
From this angle, it’s all so overwhelming and my eyes flutter closed. Though he’s not rough, he’s not gentle either. I rest my weight on my forearms as he pushes in then pulls out, each thrust given with passion and ease. One of his hands rests on my back as the other holds my hips in place.
“Look up. Look at me,” he says between jagged breaths.
I open my eyes as his hands slide up and around to my breasts and he takes hold, picking up his rhythm again. He squeezes and I push back into him with this new leverage, eliciting a moan from both of us and slam back again as he thrusts forward.
“Touch yourself again,” he says.
“Uh huh,” I hum, staggering for control.
After stabilizing my body with my other arm, I touch myself, but this time going right for my most sensitive spot. When I open my eyes, I see his are dark, taking me in and I lick my lips.
“I like that.” His voice is a bit hoarse, affected by our activity.
Slowly, seductively, and yet innocently, I lick my bottom lip again, then dig into it with my top teeth until it hurts, the pain mixing with the pleasure he’s giving me.
Evan stops thrusting, his tongue licking his own lips as he watches my mouth. He slams into me and groans, “Oh fuck, I’m not gonna last.”
His eyes shut tight as his orgasm overcomes him. Closing my eyes, I concentrate on the feeling of this, of him, of Evan invading my every sense as he continues moving inside me. I’m too blissed out to scream when I’m swallowed by desire. I can’t speak or say anything remotely comprehensible, but I manage a few audible moans and then collapse onto the counter top.
His body rests lightly on top of mine, my breasts pressed against the cool marble top. I lay my cheek against it hoping to slow my speeding heart and stabilize my breathing. His stubble covered cheek rests against my back for a moment trying to steady his own breathing.
“So, you want to be a psych major?” I ask, picking up our conversation where we left off earlier with a giggle.
He chuckles which reverberates against my body. “I thought I would start using my skills for good instead of evil.”
We both laugh together as he helps me up, disposing of the condom at the same time. He turns the faucet on warm and grabs for a washcloth that sits neatly on the shelf under the counter. He wets it, and asks, “May I?”
I nod, surprised by the sweet gesture, and part my legs. He rubs the terry cloth softly along my inner thighs then strokes upward—cleaning me, caring for me.
He wipes himself off, tosses the washcloth on the side of the tub and carries me back into the bedroom. Setting me down on the bed with my head on the pillow, he runs to retrieve the earlier offending sheet and blanket, covering me up and tucking me in. He slips underneath without disturbing the covers protecting me from the chilly air conditioning.
I roll onto my side and he does the same so we face each other in the moonlight.
“I think our foundation is solid.”
I give him a small smile and say, “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” he says, kissing my nose. “Like the Rock of Gibraltar.”
“Rock solid.”
“I love you, Mallory.”
“I love you, too.”
12
Evan
Time is elusive. I can’t count on it any longer. Ever since Mallory came into my life it is either racing by or crawling; sometimes it even stands still. I’ve lived the life of unpredictability for so long that I don’t recognize a lot of what my life has become, which is disappointing.
I need to make some changes and I think the first is to weigh the pros and cons of the job in New York. Even if I’m too lazy to write them down, I should at least take a tally in my head. I also need to talk to Mallory about it. Over the last two weeks, since the party, we are inseparable. Apart from work, we spend every minute together, almost to the point of ridiculousness. But we like where we are right now. Actually, we love it. This is how it should’ve been from the beginning.
We spend the next two weeks talking, laughing, sharing, and exploring each other. We don’t fight. There aren’t even tiny moments of irritation. We’re happy. It is as simple as that. It seems that all of the hurdles that once stood in our way have been jumped and left in the past.
We don’t talk about my mother. I wanted to on several occasions, but I’m not willing to give away any second of happiness with Mallory to deal with that issue. So, I don’t. I greedily hoard her all to myself and can tell she’s doing the same with me.
I’ve discovered what true beauty is, especially when I see Mallory first thing in the morning—sleepy eyes, lips barely parted, and snuggled into my side—I realize I’ve never known it at all. She is pure beauty and awe in my eyes, but I feel her splendor in the way she is with me as well. She expresses her love so openly through touches, whispers, her giggles, and blushes. I try my best to make her feel how she makes me feel.
But nothing takes away that nagging feeling that has moved into the back of my head and set up camp—her impending departure. Although I have concerns over whether I should take this job in New York or not, I push them to the back, right next to thoughts of her departure, and focus on our time together.
Today, I have big plans. I’m spending the day with Ms. Chart. We grocery shop and she’s showing me how to make lasagna from scratch in the main kitchen. She said this would impress Mallory, so I’m making the effort to learn for both of us . It’s not a mo
numental step, but it is a little one toward my independence from the life of luxury I’ve led thus far. One thing I am positive of is that once I’m back in school and then after graduation, my parents aren’t going to gift me a private chef. So this little lesson into the culinary world will come in handy.
Mallory arrives at my house at exactly 6:48 p.m. I’ve been counting the minutes for the last hour. They’ve been dragging except for the time I spent with Ms. Chart.
When Sunny drops her off on the lower portion of the driveway, I greet her by wrapping my arms around her waist and holding her to me. “I missed you,” I say and kiss her forehead because I like to, but she also really likes it, so I do it often.
“I missed you, too. It’s kind of getting out of hand—”
“What is?”
“I just don’t like being away from you. All I think about all day at work is how much I wish I was with you instead or thinking about what you’re doing at that moment. It’s silly really,” she says, looking up at me, her hands resting on my upper arms.
“That makes me feel a little less insane because I do the same exact thing all day. Come on. I have a surprise for you.”
“Really? What is it?”
“Why is that the first question people ask when someone says they have a surprise for them? You know the answer to that.”
“It wouldn’t be a surprise then?”
“Ding ding ding!”
We walk around to the table by the pool and she stops, causing me to also stop. “Did you,” she starts, but goes quiet then starts again, “did you do all this for me?”
I turn back to the table and smile, proud as a peacock.
“A romantic dinner for two? This is stunning, Evan,” she says, squeezing my hand.
“So are you, baby.” I take her over, pulling her chair out and tucking her neatly up to the table. I pour each of us a glass of Chianti and then dish out the salad.