Spring Fling

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Spring Fling Page 65

by Claudia Burgoa


  She sighs.

  “I think you’re reading too much into it. What we have really isn’t—”

  “Ladies, let’s toast,” the maid of honor interrupts Lola, handing her a flute.

  I smile and grab my own flute. When I turn toward the door, I spot him. Miller is watching me, his brown eyes attentive, and he’s wearing a warm smile.

  “Hey,” he mouths.

  “Hi,” I mouth back, walking toward him.

  “Hey,” I greet him, gawking at his face. The contrast of the open white button-down shirt he wears against his tanned skin and dark eyes makes my insides quiver. God, he’s so beautiful. I want him to kiss me again.

  He brushes my mouth with his lips. “Missed you, babe,” he says a little too loud.

  “Aren’t they perfect?” Lola gloats, sighing loudly. “I’ll make sure you get the bouquet, Claire.”

  Perfect liars, and I’m starting to believe the lies myself. For a second, I feel a tear pricking my eye. What’s happening to me?

  “Let’s go take our seats,” he suggests, taking my hand.

  I need to distance myself from the situation—and from him. This ache in my chest is going to kill me.

  “Aren’t we laying it on a little thick with the doting boyfriend act?”

  “You okay?” he asks, smoothing my forehead.

  “Your sister wants to hang out once she’s back from her honeymoon.”

  “Oh fuck.” He closes his eyes.

  “Yeah, make sure you come off as the asshole who broke my heart. They really hate your ex.”

  “What did she tell you?” he asks worriedly.

  “That you two wanted different things and that she was a bitch.”

  He chuckles. “Leave it to Lola to give you the Cliff Notes, Lola style.”

  “Did she miss something?”

  “Nah, that’s pretty much it,” he continues. “I almost married a bitch. Lesson learned, women aren’t as trustworthy as they pretend.”

  “Because men are?” I ask irritated.

  He narrows his gaze, studies me for a few minutes and says, “Who hurt you?”

  “I wouldn’t say hurt. All the guys I date eventually realize I’m just not good enough for them.”

  “Is that why you said you’re a five?”

  I laugh. “Seven, but it’s good to know I’m a five on your scale.”

  He chuckles. “You’re an eleven.”

  Miller clears a few strands from my face and kisses my lips softly.

  “When I see you, I see a beautiful woman with so many great qualities. Any man would be lucky to have you, but I doubt anyone would be good enough for you.”

  “Look at you, pumping my ego,” I joke, trying to push him away.

  “Babe, I can pump something else too after the wedding.”

  “Mr. Archer, we just had sex a couple of hours ago.”

  * * *

  * * *

  Marrying isn’t part of my five, ten, or even fifty-year plan. Relationships just don’t work for me. But just because I’m a cynic, that doesn’t mean I don’t cry at weddings. I mean, here they are, Kevin and Lola looking at each other as if they were the only two people in the room, promising to be there for one another no matter the circumstances.

  In this moment, I allow myself to wish for the whole package. For a man who could be by my side, holding my hand when I need support. A man who would lean on me and look at me the way Kevin looks at Lola. I wonder how it would feel to have someone by my side when I felt like the world was about to swallow me whole.

  “Now you’re the one laying it on thick,” Miller says, patting my cheek with his handkerchief. “You don’t have to cry.”

  I shove him with my elbow. “This isn’t acting. Look at those two, so in love, making promises, and looking at each other like they belong together forever. They seem so happy. The kind of happy you only read about in fairy tales.”

  “One day, you’ll have your own fairy tale.”

  “A man who’d put me before everything else?” I snort. “Not even my parents do that for me.”

  After the ceremony, the couple turns around and walks down the aisle as husband and wife. I swipe a few more tears and smile at Lola when she passes and winks at us. Then, Crystal walks by and says, “Miller, you have to come with us for pictures.” She turns to me with a smile. “I’ll see you at the reception, Claire. You look beautiful by the way.”

  “What did you do to my family? They seem to like you.”

  “I’m likable.”

  “Yes, I now see you can actually be accommodating to others. We need to apply that to your attitude at work.”

  “Ha, I don’t tell you how to run your company. So you don’t tell me how to behave with my coworkers.”

  “I like your attitude, Solis.”

  “Miller, let’s go,” his grandfather calls him.

  He kisses my cheek and leaves.

  * * *

  Miller

  * * *

  “Where is Claire?” Lola asks waving at me. “I wanted a picture with the two of you.”

  “She’s not family,” I remind her.

  Fuck, it’s going to be a nightmare when I tell them we broke up. I should wait a couple of months and just make excuses for why Claire can’t visit them.

  “Oh come on, she’s like family,” Lola says. “We adore her. Where did you meet her?”

  “Devon introduced us,” I say absently, thinking about Claire and the way she cried during the wedding.

  She seems so confident and secure in herself. Yet, a part of her feels lonely. It’s heartbreaking that no one puts such an incredible person first. She’s been doing that for my family this weekend. I wouldn’t doubt she does it for her family.

  “He deserves a big gift for introducing you to such a great girl,” Mom says interrupting.

  “She’s a woman, Mom,” Lola protests.

  “I thought you two met at a cafe,” Grandma says, giving me a scrutinizing look.

  “We were at a cafe. Devon introduced us,” I add, afraid they’re going to catch onto the lie and see Claire as a liar.

  “Either way, Claire is lovely. I’m so glad you found her,” Mom says, brushing off the inquisition.

  “She gave me a few recommendations about my moisturizer,” Grandma adds, patting her face.

  “She gifted me the lip gloss she was using yesterday morning when I saw her in the lobby waiting for you,” Mom continues to gush about Claire.

  “You have to bring her home once we get back from Cancun,” Dad adds.

  “That’s a great idea, Winston,” Mom praises him.

  Great, I feel as if I’m going to be breaking their hearts when I tell them it’s over. My own heart deflates as I realize the end is near.

  “We’re friends on Facebook and I’m following her on Instagram.” Grandma shows me her phone. “She doesn’t have many pictures of herself—or you two together. But George is really photogenic.”

  “You met George?”

  Grams nods and taps her phone a few times showing me the picture of a golden retriever, right next to him is Claire, hugging him. I smile at the sight of her. She looks different from the woman who works for me. The woman in the picture looks pretty close to who I spent my weekend with.

  “I know it’s too soon for the two of you, but that girl is a keeper. Don’t let her go,” Mom advises me. “Too soon?”

  * * *

  * * *

  “There’s a lot more to cupcakes than the frosting.”

  “Frosting is life,” Claire answers, licking a spoon full of frosting, the same way she licked my length earlier during our shower.

  “Claire, don’t forget to give me the name of your stylist,” Allie, one of the bridesmaids says, patting Claire’s shoulder.

  “I’ll make sure to send it with Miller when we get back home,” she says with a smile.

  “She’s a treasure,” Allie says and walks away.

  “See, I’m a treasure, Mr. Arche
r. You should add that to my annual employee evaluation.” She laughs eyeing my cupcake. “Are you going to eat that?”

  “You need more frosting?” I ask her, pushing the plate closer to her.

  Her face illuminates and she gives me a big smile. “You’re the best. If I could, I’d eat frosting all day.”

  “We could find other uses for frosting.” I waggle my eyebrows getting a few ideas of my own.

  She turns slightly red.

  I stand up and bow at her, extending my hand. “Dance with me, beautiful princess.”

  Dancing with her is just like having sex. It comes easily, feels extraordinary, and I never want to stop. We dance while a slow song comes through the speaker, and I hold her in my arms, enjoying the feel of her soft body against mine, hating that this might be the last time I’ll enjoy her.

  “We did it,” I murmur into her ear, pressing her even closer to me.

  “I won’t lie to you, at some point I thought they wouldn’t buy it,” she says with a brisk voice.

  “You were great,” I praise her.

  “Will you be adding this to my annual performance, Mr. Archer?” she asks with that low voice that hits me right in the gut and makes me hard.

  “Sorry, that sounded dirty. I just meant…”

  “How much did you drink?” I ask before I beg her to come upstairs with me.

  “Enough to ask if my boss wants to evaluate my performance before he raises my salary.”

  “I’m not your boss,” I say, irritated and jealous at the thought of my best friend looking at her.

  “Devon’s not allowed to touch you,” I say possessively, taking her lips.

  Fuck, I didn’t want to stop kissing her. She’s like a drug that I’m becoming addicted to. And those sweet moans coming from the back of her throat heat every cell in my body.

  “We need to stop,” she says, breaking the kiss breathlessly.

  As she moves her feet, she tumbles and almost falls down, but I catch her. Our eyes meet and the flare in hers mirror the flame burning inside mine.

  * * *

  Claire

  * * *

  My gaze slowly slides up Miller’s hard body until it lands on his handsome face. He stares at me with the same intensity he did on the dance floor. His breathing hitches just like mine. It’s as if we’re trying to enjoy the last minutes together before we have to go our separate ways.

  “God, you’re so fucking beautiful, Claire,” he says hoarsely. “I’ve been fantasizing about the ways I’ll have you tonight. Wondering if you’re wearing any underwear or if I can just lift the skirt of your dress and dip my finger into your pussy.”

  My entire body reacts to the way he looks at me, the way he speaks. I’m speechless, and needy. A long moment passes before I push down the spaghetti strap and let the dress fall onto the floor.

  He licks his lips. “I love you naked, but you look fucking beautiful in lace,” he rasps. “I want you so fucking much, Claire.”

  “I want you too,” I respond breathlessly.

  Miller steps closer to me, and my heart pounds as he drinks me in with his eyes. I watch his long, strong body with the same hunger he’s watching mine.

  “You’re a little overdressed for the occasion, Mr. Archer,” I say with a sultry voice.

  “Do you have any idea what you do to me, Miss Solis?” He sucks in a breath as I unbutton his shirt, slowly, my fingers grazing his skin.

  “Do I have an effect on you, sir?” I ask.

  My gaze is locked on him as I set my hands on his strong, naked chest, moving them upward and taking his shirt off. Then I tug his shorts all the way to where the v muscles are covered by his slacks. His cock springs free in my face. I stare at it intently. There’s something about this man that makes me want to push everything further, like suck his cock down my throat and swallow every drop.

  I kneel in front of him. This time I’ll fit him all in my mouth. He jerks as I trace the crease between his balls with my tongue.

  “It’s such a shame that we don’t have frosting,” I mumble.

  I lick my lips, ready to take his girth in my mouth. His hot, smooth shaft pulses in my palm.

  “Suck me,” he demands.

  “Are we pretending I’m your hooker, Miller?”

  “My fling,” he says. “Just a stranger I picked up by the bar who I’m going to fuck in every possible way.”

  “A stranger who’s going to swallow every last drop after your come,” I assure him.

  My grip around his cock tightens and I open my mouth wider, sliding the thick length inside. I lick it, suck it, and pump with my mouth and hands.

  “Fuck,” he groans.

  “Touch yourself,” he orders. “Make us come at the same time.”

  I do as he says and rub my clit while I move my mouth faster and faster, hitting the back of my throat with his crown. His legs tremble and we’re both close to the edge.

  “You’re killing me.” The man’s voice shakes as I suck him harder.

  I let his length go and kiss his tip.

  “Death by lust,” I say. “Would that adversely affect my evaluation, sir?”

  He groans as I suckle his sack. He buries his hands in my hair, coaxing my head closer to him. I nibble, kiss and suck the flesh around the base of his shaft. He grows harder. He’s a piece of marble, and even looks like the David. Sculpted.

  “Fuck, I need to be inside you, babe,” he mutters. “We can play later, but right now I need you like I need my next breath.”

  He snakes an arm around my waist, pulling me against his bare chest. Those intense brown eyes catch my soul, sucking it slowly.

  “Miller,” I say, wanting more than his words and his mouth. The need to belong to him overtakes all reason. “Please,” I beg him.

  He takes my mouth. His lips are first soft and then hard before he pushes his tongue into my mouth. Soon our tongues begin to twirl like two lovers trying to fuse into one. His kiss consumes me. His touch burns my skin in the most delicious way.

  My hands slide down his back to his firm ass and I pull him against me, rubbing myself against him, trying to find some release because the ache between my legs is killing me.

  “Miller,” I beg him. “I need you inside me, now.”

  My pulse races as he pushes me against the wall.

  “Arms up.” He lifts them and strips me from my lace panties. He kisses them and says, “They’re mine. My precious souvenir.”

  He places them on top of the nightstand grabbing a condom. I watch him tear away the wrapper and I take the rubber away from him, sheathing his length with the latex, completely overtaken by desire.

  He pushes two fingers inside me, smiling as they slip in my wet core. “You’re ready,” he says, pushing my feet open, lifting me by the waist and thrusting his thick cock inside me.

  He stills, our eyes meet for a long moment. I wrap my legs around him, this time should be like the others, yet, it feels … different. As he pumps himself inside me and his eyes bore into mine, my entire soul is quivering. I want him to continue, though the feelings inside my chest are beginning to crack my heart. This is too much to take and yet, he gives me a heart-stopping kiss while he moves faster and harder.

  I wrap my arms around his neck meeting his hips, seeking more of whatever it is he’s giving me tonight. He pushes his arms underneath me, holding me close to his body. His body is pressed so hard against me that I can feel every one of his muscles. I can feel his heart beating as fast as mine, and I wish it beats for me. Nothing we do feels like enough. I want to be inside him, for him to be inside me. Never in my life have I ever had the need to belong to someone. Tonight, I surrender my heart to fantasy, and I don’t care if I lose it forever.

  Overwhelmed by my emotion, tears begin to form in my eyes. It’s not sadness, nor happiness. Whatever I feel is foreign, and I want so badly to tell him that he’s breaking me in the most beautiful way, as I’m climbing the tallest peak of pleasure I’ve ever reached in m
y life. I cling to him tightly as I’m about to explode. I don’t want to be alone when I fall from this high.

  Miller rocks into me deeper, harder, faster. As if he’s feeling that I’m about to come undone, or maybe he’s just about to reach his peak too.

  We both groan, shake and push into each other as deep as possible. He kisses me fiercely. We’re locked together building the fire, heating each other’s bodies until we both begin to unravel, pushing each other into a deep pool of pleasure, until a mind-blowing orgasm takes over my entire body. All I feel is him. His cock buried deep inside me. His mouth possessing me, drinking me in.

  The only one holding me in one piece is Miller Archer, and I’m not sure how I’ll survive the rest of my life without him.

  * * *

  Miller

  * * *

  Delany called me a selfish prick several times. She might’ve been right. I don’t think I ever cared for her enough. At least I least I don't think so because I never guarded her the way I do Claire. Not once did I hold her close to my heart while I made love to her. But with Claire, I just feel the need to make sure she knows how much she matters to me.

  I’ve been with a lot of women. Fuck, I was even engaged. Claire is different from all of them. I can’t explain it, nor do I want to, because it’s done and over. But why do I feel so conflicted?

  I realize how fucked I am as I look down at her. She looks so fragile as she sleeps in my arms. If things were different, I could get used to waking up with Claire by my side. Having her in my arms feels different and right. Like she belongs beside me. I never took Claire as a cuddler. Not like I spent any time thinking about her that way before. She’s sweet in a cold way—always keeping her distance. But after this weekend, I’ve learned she’s a totally different person. And when it comes to the bedroom, she loves to snuggle closer to me, and I can’t help but take her into my arms and protect her during the night.

 

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