by Jess Vonn
“Umm,” she said, leaning forward and grabbing the headboard behind Cal so she had more leverage. She rubbed harder against him, her breasts now jostling dangerously close to his face. “I…” She couldn’t form a thought beneath his touch, and he fucking loved it.
“I think the answer you’re looking for is that we should have sleepovers as often as possible,” he finished for her.
“God, yes,” she cried, answering his question and reacting to his body all at once. Her hips moved with desperation now and he was more than ready to get his pants off.
“Cal, can we stop talking now? Please?” she panted. “Your mouth is needed elsewhere.”
He grinned as she took her weight off him for just enough time for him to slip off his pants and shirt. She straddled him once more, her aroused sex hovering centimeters above his aching dick. The distance might damn well kill him.
“Shit, I don’t have a condom up here,” he growled. He never brought women home, so his own bedroom wasn’t well-stocked for sexual adventures. He wanted nothing less than to wrench himself from Winnie’s naked body to go on a scavenger hunt through his house while he was rock hard.
Winnie’s eyes softened with shyness.
“I’m on the pill and clean as a whistle,” she offered shyly. “I trust you are, too.” Shit. Just when he thought he couldn’t grow harder, she had to go and say something like that. He got himself tested on a regular basis, yet he’d never taken a woman without a condom. That was just the deal a man made with himself when he avoided the monogamy of committed relationships. He’d fantasized about it plenty, though. And the thought of experiencing such a first with Winnie, well that was too good to be true.
“Winnie, are you sure?” he asked, his mind frenzied at the thought of the act he’d imagined so many times.
“I want to feel all of you,” she begged, her sex writhing above him. “Now.”
He sat up straighter against the headboard, grabbed Winnie’s hips and slowly, slowly pulled her down until inch by inch the unfathomable warmth and wetness of her sex drew him in. Christ, he didn’t think he could feel more for her. More connection. More intimacy. More desire. Yet here it was, this unsheathed melding of their bodies unraveling him beyond what he could have ever imagined.
“God, Winnie,” he cried out at the connection, right as a moan tore from Winnie’s throat. She threw her head back in pleasure and her hand slipped down to stroke her own clit as he thrust into her again with more force.
“Yes,” she purred, gazing down at him with affection and heat and need. “Cal… please,” she muttered incoherently.
Quickly they found their rhythm with Winnie on top, slow and steady at first then faster, with more need, with more affection and desperation. Winnie’s breasts quaked each time their hips crashed together and she put her hands behind her neck, riding him like she’d trained for it. She came first, her cries of pleasure serving as the final straw for him. His own release barreled quickly behind hers and with one final thrust his orgasm surged within her, leaving Cal dizzy with the singular satisfaction of coming deep into her warm depths. Nothing had ever felt so right.
Seconds later, she collapsed next to him on the bed, panting and breathless with a silly grin animating her face. He scooped her into the cradle of his body, feeling her warmth, her softness, feeling just how perfectly they fit together. And just like that, those three words popped into his head once more. This is it.
Physical and emotional satisfaction, mixed with the lingering exhaustion from the eventful day and a staggering orgasm, resulted in a deep drowsiness overcoming him. He was nearly asleep when her voice roused him again.
“One more new ground rule?” she whispered into his chest.
“Mmmm?” he replied sleepily.
“I get unlimited access to that bathtub.”
He chuckled softly. “Deal. As long as you’re open to company in there from time to time.” He kissed her forehead.
“You drive a hard bargain,” she said sleepily into his chest. “But I accept your terms.”
Content that all major guidelines had been addressed, the pair fell into the deepest of sleep.
~-~-~-~-~-~-
Winnie woke up face down in the soft depths of Cal’s king sized bed and she briefly wondered how she could ever force herself to leave it.
The bed, like everything about the man, was pure sensual pleasure. Now that she had been given the green light with his body, Winnie tried to imagine a future that didn’t involve the two of them naked, but it was next to impossible. They’d never leave this bed again. They’d lose their jobs. They’d starve to death. But oh, what a way to go.
She sleepily reached over to his side of the bed, wanting to feel his skin. His warmth. She wanted to reenact the naughty dreams of the man that had flooded her mind all night.
All month, to be more accurate.
But she felt only empty sheets next to her.
She sat up and her heart leapt to her throat when she saw the folded up piece of paper on Cal’s pillow.
He wouldn’t possibly…
She opened the note anxiously and laughed in relief when she read the message written in his sexy scrawl.
I promise I haven’t fled -- I’m just making you breakfast downstairs. I put the special section from the newspaper on the night stand if you want to take a peek. Looks awesome!
Right. It was Friday. Winnie had officially lost all sense of time and place. She picked up her robe off the floor where it had been hastily abandoned the night before, wrapped it around herself, and grabbed the Bloomsburo Days special section off the stand.
Unfolding it, her heart sang. It looked fantastic, she had to admit. Well designed. Nice photos. And the color printing looked vibrant and sharp. She noticed no glaring typos in the headlines she skimmed, which was a comfort.
She leafed casually through the pages, taking special interest in the advertisements—the only part of the section she hadn’t seen yet. She merely left space for them—the production staff at the printers actually plugged them into the pages.
They looked pretty good. She didn’t notice any obvious errors or distorted photos. All in all, she had a lot to feel proud of. Hopefully her publisher would be pleased. She closed the section and tossed it on the bed, when suddenly an image on the back page caught her attention.
She grabbed it for a closer look and her jaw dropped open.
The back full-page ad had been the last-minute request that Danny J. McDonald the Intern had sent over from the Chamber of Commerce. Four huge sprinkle-covered donuts that looked just like the ones on Winnie’s phone case covered the top of the page. Below them a message was written in a huge, quirky purple typeface.
Donuts are sweet
And so are you,
But there is one little thing
I ‘donut’ want to do—
Pretend that I’m not in love with you.
Wanting, more than anything, to be yours, Winnie.
Cal Spencer
She read it again and again, her head shaking in disbelief. Her hands trembling. She couldn’t decide whether to laugh or cry, so she did both. She was still crying when she reached the bottom of the stairs, where the tantalizing smell of bacon greeted her. Making her way to the kitchen, she headed straight for Cal, putting her arms around his waist where he stood and worked at the stove in those sexy plaid pajama pants and a soft grey T-shirt. His hair, rumpled from sex and sleep, stuck out in irresistible swirls.
“Morning, beautiful,” he said, wiping his hands on a towel before turning around and facing her. “Winnie, what is it?” he asked spotting her tears.
She held up the back page of the special section and a nervous excitement washed over his handsome face.
“Do you mean it?” she asked, her voice trembling.
The grin that transformed his expression was the most glorious thing she’d ever seen.
“Hell yes, I meant every word. And I’m ready for the world to know what I fee
l about you.”
Winnie looked at the ad again, then hugged it to her chest in disbelief.
“You prepared this ad days ago.”
“I did. Right after you dumped me.”
Winnie rolled her eyes. “I thought it was just pity sex that first time.”
He shook his head.
“And then this morning I worried that maybe it was just near-death-experience sex.”
He laughed. “Is that a thing?”
“I don’t know. You’re the sex-pert.”
“Now that’s a term of endearment I could get behind,” he said, pulling Winnie in for an embrace. But his eyes turned uncharacteristically serious.
“The truth of it, Winnie, is that I’ve fallen in love with you. The sex is just a bonus. I don’t know if I’ll be the perfect man. I don’t know if I can overcome whatever shortcomings defined my father…”
Winnie, wondering if her heart could actually burst, leaned up and kissed him.
“But just in case you were on the fence about your feelings for me,” Cal said, “I ran out and picked these up this morning.”
He reached behind himself to grab a bakery box from the counter. Opening it, Winnie saw a half dozen pretty pink-frosted donuts covered in the most dazzling rainbow sprinkles.
“You fight dirty, Cal Spencer,” she teased, running her hands over his chest. “If I tried my hardest, I might be able to resist you. But when you’re wielding bacon and donuts? Well, game over. I’m yours.”
“Lucky me,” he said, pulling her in for a deep kiss.
“Mmmm, lucky us,” she said, looking up into his eyes as she clutched at his mussed hair. She finally concluded that morning-after Cal was the sexiest Cal of all. “I’m not going to be the perfect woman,” she admitted.
“And I know I’ll never be the perfect man…” he offered with a kiss to Winnie’s jaw line. A nip at her ear.
“But I love you,” she whispered. The deepest truth she’d ever known. He answered with his mouth. His hands. His body. Even bacon and donuts could wait when Cal Spencer was on the menu. And that was saying something.
Epilogue
December
As Winnie walked back through the crowded banquet hall, she caught Cal smiling at her from across the room.
Despite the months they’d now been together, Winnie still hadn’t quite come to terms with the fact that he was hers, especially in very public settings like this. He was kind of like your nicest necklace or your most expensive pair of shoes. Part of you was dying to wear them out and show them off, but the other part of you worried that it would be too flashy, that it would create too much envy.
But in the months since Winnie and Cal had finally accepted the fact that they were in love, Winnie had gradually grown comfortable with the way other women looked at Cal. It made her proud. It turned her on, because those looks were never returned. He was hungry only for her, and that was something she would simply never tire of.
Just as satisfying as the statewide newspaper contest award she’d just received—first place in breaking news writing for The Bloom Times’ coverage of the Bloomsburo/Broadsville mayoral scandal—was the feeling when she returned to the banquet table, and Cal pulled her into a congratulatory embrace. Despite the fact that all eyes were still on her, having just accepted the award, he gave her a long and passionate kiss that left her light headed.
“Congratulations, Winn,” he murmured in her ear, his hand moving down to give her a playful tap on her backside. “You deserve all of it and more.”
He looked perfect there, wearing the same sexy, blue suit he’d worn that first night at Café Gioia. He called it his lucky suit, because it was what he wore when this pleasure-filled journey began. She made him wear it whenever possible – once even while he made her waffles, just for the heck of it. He was a good sport like that.
She could feel herself beaming as she resumed her seat and looked at the plaque, her first first-place award for writing. She hoped it wouldn’t be her last, but if it ended up being her only, it would go down as one of her favorite professional accomplishments. She’d come to Bloomsburo with two goals in mind: to become a better journalist and to avoid men. She’d met one goal, and now thanked God she failed at the other.
Her only regret was that she could only bring one guest to tonight’s awards ceremony. How she would have loved to share this with Gloria, Rhonda, and even with Betty Jean, who had actually become an incredibly important source when Winnie began to investigate the political history of the town.
She was on cloud nine for the rest of evening, eating the delicious food, sharing sweet glances with Cal, and laughing with the other journalists who filled out her table. She practically floated out to his car when the ceremony ended.
“We have to swing by my mom’s,” Cal explained as he took an unexpected turn on the drive back to his place, where Winnie now spent most evenings. “I promised her we’d stop by to show off the award.”
“You didn’t know that I was going to win the award,” Winnie said suspiciously.
“I absolutely knew you would take home that award, hon. You deserved it. It wasn’t even a contest.”
She had to grin. She didn’t go into the evening with nearly as much confidence, but she never tired of Cal’s support. Frankly, she was just honored to be a nominee amongst journalists from fancier papers with much more impressive budgets. Winnie was happy about the award, but she was really looking forward to the final stop of the night: Cal’s bed, and all of the magical things that happened therein. They stayed at her place sometimes, too, but his bathtub, and the delicious rituals they’d developed within it, made his place their favorite.
They pulled up to Rhonda’s and Cal grabbed the plaque, more eager to show it off than even Winnie.
“Well, come on!” he urged her, like a kid ready to charge downstairs on Christmas morning.
“Ladies first,” Cal insisted when they reached the porch. He pushed the door open and Winnie’s jaw dropped when she took in the scene inside Rhonda’s house.
A huge banner hung across the wide entryway, spelling out “Congrats, Winnie!” Beneath it stood all of Winnie’s favorite people: Rhonda, Cal’s sisters, his nieces, Evie and her little ones, Dewey, Carter, and even Betty Jean. She turned to Cal in disbelief, but he just stood back, pleased with the surprise he was able to pull over on her.
One by one they rushed up to Winnie, smothering her in hugs and kisses and congratulations. Once everyone had a chance to celebrate with the award winner, the party moved into the kitchen, where Rhonda’s island was covered with a gorgeous pink layer cake, pies and other assorted desserts, alongside ice buckets of champagne and sparkling cider. Cal promptly poured them two glasses of champagne.
“To the award-winning journalist,” he toasted her, and their glasses clinked. They kissed, and the room cheered before breaking into side conversations.
“Don’t forget her present, Uncle Cal!” Mary called out, sneaking up beside them and slipping her hand into Winnie’s.
“Present? Cal, this is too much,” Winnie protested, though it did little to mask her delight. He spoiled her and she loved every second of it.
He handed her a long, thin velvet box with a pink ribbon on top.
“I picked that out the ribbon,” Lulu said quietly, pointing to the ribbon.
“It’s lovely.”
“Wait ’til you see what’s inside!” Mary said, jumping up and down as if she were the one getting the gift.
With slightly shaky hands, Winnie removed the bow, placing it on the top of Lulu’s head, earning Winnie a giggle. She gingerly opened the hinged box and gasped when she saw the drop necklace inside—a long, gorgeous white gold chain that featured one sizable teardrop shaped diamond at the center and two tiny diamonds a few inches above it on either side. It was breathtaking.
“Cal, it’s gorgeous.”
“Hmm, just like you, what a coincidence.”
He took the necklace and slipped it ov
er her hair until it sparkled and shone against the black satin of her formal dress.
Winnie clasped it in disbelief. She’d never had a diamond. Never had a piece of jewelry so beautiful.
She threw her arms around Cal and kissed his neck profusely.
“I can’t thank you enough, Cal.”
“We can find some creative ways for you to try, though,” he said with a wink.
She grinned and then he leaned in to whisper in her ear. “These won’t be the last jewels you get from me, Briggs.” His words were hot on her ear. “I’m having trouble waiting a respectable amount of time to give you one diamond in particular.”
Her heart skipped a beat at his implication. At the thought that all of this could actually be forever. She leaned in, eyes wide and her lips found his immediately.
“I love you so much.”
“I’m a lucky man.”
She grinned and turned her attention to the little girls now flanking her. “Can we see?” Lulu asked. Cal’s cell phone started to ring and Winnie nodded, encouraging him to take the call while she showed off her new sparkles.
A few seconds later she heard Cal clear his throat.
“Uh, Winn?” he said, his hand gently touching her arm. “It’s Bree.”
Bree?
Her first instinct was excitement—her sweet boyfriend had even tried to include her long-distance best friend in her celebration. But something in Cal’s eyes told her that the call was under less ideal circumstances. The two women had been in touch since their month of non-communication passed. They talked on the phone every week or so. Miraculously, they’d even taught Bree how to use Skype so her friend could see Cal with her own eyes. (Bree now referred to him as The Masterpiece, and often called Cal in order to reach Winnie, given that Winnie’s cellphone tended to go missing or uncharged so often.)
“Winn, congrats on the award,” she heard her best friend’s voice offer shakily. Uncharacteristically edgy. “I’m so sorry to interrupt. I just… Winnie, something’s happened.”