Heart of Hope: Books 1-4

by Williams, Ajme

  15

  Tessa

  I wasn’t a woman who needed a champagne life, as it appeared Veronica was. But I couldn’t deny this honeymoon, fake as it was, was nice. The food Dylan had brought up through room service was the best I could remember ever tasting. The champagne was amazing. The room was lush and rich-looking. The view of the city with the lights twinkling was beautiful. Growing up in Brooklyn, I’d spent plenty of time in Manhattan, but never in the lap of luxury.

  I’d known Dylan had money, but I hadn’t thought he had money like this. Or that he’d spend it. I wouldn’t say he was a miser, but he was frugal. I suspected Maisie’s college education was already fully-funded. I hoped he wasn’t tapping into that to help me.

  “You okay?” Dylan asked me. We’d moved the couch over to the window, turned the lights off in the room, and then looked over the city lights.

  “You keep asking how I am,” I said, finishing the last bit of champagne from my third … or was it fourth glass? I was feeling the buzz, but felt completely in control. It was the level of tipsy where I felt warm and content, but not silly.

  “This is a lot to ask, and I know it’s a bit awkward,” he replied with the same reasoning he’d been using all night. It was a bit awkward, but I was beginning to think he was projecting his own feelings on me. I wasn’t that weirded out, but maybe he was.

  Maybe he was worried I’d tell him I liked him again. “Would it have been less awkward if we hadn’t slept together? I mean, I know it wasn’t that good for you and maybe you’re worried now—” Okay, so maybe I’d had enough champagne to loosen my tongue more than I should, but if our sexual encounter was what was making this weird, we might as well talk and get it out of the way.

  He gaped at me. “What are talking about? Not good? I came, Tessa. I came pretty hard.”

  I wanted to be proud of that, but let’s face it, it didn’t take men much to get hard and have an orgasm. At least, that’s the way Corrine said it was.

  “That’s nature. I mean the rest of it. I didn’t do much. I just laid there. I would have done more, but … well, I wasn’t sure what to do.”

  “You did just fine.” He shifted, downing the rest of his champagne.

  “I didn’t do anything.” I stared at my empty glass, wanting more but wondering if that would be one too many.

  “Clearly I didn’t need you to.”

  I set my glass on the coffee table. “That’s the only thing I regret. If I could do it over, I’d have done something.”

  He was silent for a moment and when he spoke, his voice was husky. “Do you want to do it over?”

  I looked at him and thought I saw that same heat of desire in his eyes as I saw that night. As much as I did want to do it again, the events of the last time were still fresh in my mind, even with the haze of champagne. He didn’t love me. And he clearly was wanting to keep the boundaries between us. He was right to do so. To be honest, sometimes it was hard to not to sink into his kiss or believe the touches he gave me in public weren’t real. If we included marital relations, I’d probably lose all perspective.

  This marriage needed to look real from the outside for sure. The court needed to believe it, as did everyone in our lives. That part had been hard. My parents were shocked and then hurt that I hadn’t told them I’d been seeing Dylan on a personal level. Corrine and Allison both told me they thought he was just using me to get a mom for Maisie.

  “Wives are cheaper than babysitters,” Corrine said.

  I wanted to tell them all they were wrong, except they weren’t. I needed to show the world that Dylan and I were in love and happily married, even though we weren’t. Or he wasn’t. I’d fallen for him long ago.

  “You don’t have to try so hard,” I said, now wishing I had more champagne to numb my silly, school-girl feelings for him.

  “At what?”

  “We’re married and I’m going to go through with this. You don’t have to be nice just to make sure I don’t change my mind.”

  He frowned. “I’m being nice because I’m nice.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Yes, you are. But sometimes people say nice things they don’t really mean just to be nice.”

  He shook his head like he couldn’t quite follow what I’d said. “What have I said that I don’t mean?”

  “That I did fine that night we hooked up. That you came hard.”

  “I’m not saying that just to be nice. It’s true.”

  I looked down, feeling silly. Like I was fishing for compliments.

  “Did you like it?” he asked, sounding a little annoyed.

  “You know I did.” I felt my cheeks heat in embarrassment.

  “How would I know that? It’s harder for men to tell a woman has come than for a woman to know a man has. We make a mess.”

  I glared at him. “You know.”

  He stared at me with intense eyes that made my breath catch. “I do know. You know how?”

  I gave a quick shake of my head as my voice was gone with my breath.

  “Because when you came, your tight pussy took me with you, and it was fucking fantastic.” His jaw tensed and he looked away. He grabbed the champagne bottle, emptying it into our two glasses.

  “Now you’re mad.”

  “I’m not mad. I’m frustrated.” He handed me a glass.

  “Why?”

  “Because, Tessa, I want to respect you and honor what you’re doing for me, but I also want to fuck you so bad, I might just whip my dick out and masturbate right here.” He downed his glass of champagne.

  The shock at his words had me gaping. Maybe it was the champagne. Maybe it was the potent man next to me. Whatever it was, I couldn’t stop from asking, “Can I watch?”

  This time his eyes widened in surprise. “You want to watch me jerk off?”

  I shook my head.

  “I didn’t think—”

  “I want you to show me how to jerk you off.”

  “Fuck, Tessa.” He gave a frustrated growl.

  “I’m sorry, did I—”

  He let out a breath. “I’m truly thankful for what you’re doing for me, but—”

  He didn’t have to finish for me to realize I’d humiliated myself again. “Never mind. It’s just the booze.”

  “You deserve better than me. You deserve more than I can give you, Tessa. It’s important to me that I don’t fuck this up—”

  “I know Maisie is important––”

  “Not just Maisie, but my friendship with you. I don’t want to hurt you and have you think all men are inaccessible assholes.”

  I stood and went to the window, but didn’t see the city lights anymore. All I could see was the reflection of my idiot face.

  “I don’t like you assuming what I think or making decisions for me,” I managed to say.

  He was quiet and I wondered if he was just going to give up and leave.

  “Fine. You want to watch me get off?”

  He was messing with me now, which made me feel even more stupid, until I heard his belt buckle clank. I turned, and saw him standing as he undid his pants, dropping them to the floor. His dick sprang out long and hard and so beautiful.

  He ran his hand along the length. “You did that, Tessa. Just like you do just about every fucking morning of my life since I met you.” His words were terse, and his hand movement on his dick was jerky.

  I remembered how he said he imagined me sucking his dick when he’d masturbate. I had no idea how to do that, but oh God, did I want to learn.

  Tentatively I walked toward him. His eyes were dark and intense as they watched me. When I reached him, I sank to my knees, until my mouth was a whisper away from his dick.

  “Ah fuck, Tessa …”

  “Tell me what to do.”

  He cupped my chin in his hand turning my face up to look at him. “You don’t have to do this. Shouldn’t do this.”

  I pulled my head away and sat back on my heels, hating how he always pushed me away. “Stop putting this on me.
I might not be experienced, but I know my own feelings and desires.” I stood. “If you don’t want this, just say so instead of acting like you’re protecting me. It’s insulting.”

  I started to walk away, not sure where I’d go. His hand took my arm to stop me. “I do want this. It should be obvious,” he said with a nod toward his dick.

  “It wants this, you don’t. And look, Dylan, it’s okay. I get it. You’re focused on Maisie, so you probably haven’t had a lot of time for liaisons and the ones you’ve had have been with Veronica.”

  His eyes darkened.

  “I know I’m not her—”

  “What the hell does that mean?” he reached down and pulled up his pants.

  “It means I’m not Veronica. I’m not as beautiful or sexy—”

  “Bullshit. Maybe I’m sending mixed messages here, but you’re not listening to me either. I’ve been clear that you’re the one starring in my early morning fantasies. I think you’re more beautiful than Veronica inside and out. I’m trying to be respectful to you here.”

  “And yet all you do is make me feel inept and silly.” I tugged away again.

  “You want me to fuck you, is that it?” He turned away, cursing himself as if he was upset at his outburst.

  “No. Not anymore.” I made my way to the bedroom, vowing to not let my hormones and fairy tale fantasies get the best of me anymore when it came to Dylan.

  A few minutes later, I was in a nightgown I bought thinking a wife didn’t wear cotton knit shorts and a t-shirt to bed. The plain sea-foam green sleeveless nightie wasn’t sexy, because he’d been clear he wasn’t going to include marital relations in this marriage. I should have remembered that before I dropped my knees to worship his dick.

  I brushed my teeth and when I emerged from the bathroom, Dylan was leaning against the door jamb of the bedroom.

  “The problem is me,” he admitted. “I do want you, Tessa. I think you’re an amazing woman. Smart, sweet, sexy … perfect.”

  I wished I could believe him.

  “I don’t deserve you. You should give yourself to the man who can give you more than just an orgasm. I’m afraid I’ll end up hurting you, not physically, but emotionally.”

  “I understand.” I felt like I should appreciate what he was trying to do, except that it still felt like he was dismissing my feelings and my strength. He was hurting me now, but I decided not to mention that. I just wanted to end the conversation and go to bed.

  “I’ve already hurt you, though, haven’t I?”

  “Maybe we should just let it go, Dylan. I get it. This is a fake marriage. We’re just friends. Let’s leave it at that.” I climbed onto the bed, wishing I could enjoy the amazing softness of the sheets. I picked up the little piece of chocolate set there by room service and opened the wrapper. Next best thing after sex was chocolate, right?

  He watched me from the doorway for a minute and then he entered the room. He stopped for a moment at the end of the bed and stared at me.

  Then he climbed onto the bed, crawling to my legs, he ran a hand up my thigh. “I don’t want to let it go. I feel like I should say no to you, but God help me Tessa, I want you.” He looked down at his hands as they caressed my thighs.

  I wanted to stay annoyed, but his touch was sending a zap of erotic energy straight to my core.

  “I didn’t do it right the first time,” he said quietly, as he pushed my nightgown up to expose my panties. At least those were sexy, or at least pretty. Not the plain old white cotton hipsters I usually wore.

  His gaze lifted to my face. “I want to pleasure you. I want to use my hands and mouth and send you to heaven. Will you let me?”

  Of course, I’d let him. I was already one touch away from combusting. “Are you going to stop in the middle of it?”

  His lips quirked upwards. “No. This is about me making you feel good.” His finger drew a line down the center of my panties. “You’re wet, Tessa. I want to taste you there. Can I?”

  To be honest, I couldn’t imagine a guy wanting to put his mouth on that part of a woman’s body, although I knew it was something many couples did. But my body was coiled so tight it was humming, and whatever he wanted to do to me was okay by me.

  I nodded, because I couldn’t form words.

  His fingers hooked into my panties, pulling them down. His eyes flashed as he looked at my pussy. “Looks delicious.” He tossed my panties over his shoulder. Then his hands slid over my hips, pushing my nightgown up to expose my breasts.

  “I want to see your luscious tits.” His voice was rough, like sandpaper.

  I pulled my nightgown over my head and tossed it aside.

  He knelt between my legs, his gaze raking over my body. “Don’t ever compare yourself to Veronica again, Tessa.” He looked to my face and then crawled until he was on his hands and knees over me. “Promise me.”

  I nodded.

  He dipped his head, brushing his lips over mine and groaning as he did. “Don’t do anything but feel, okay?” He whispered as his lips trailed along my jaw. “Just feel.”

  His hands and mouth made their way to my breasts, and I gasped at the pleasure that speared straight to my pussy as he sucked and pinched.

  “So responsive,” he murmured against my skin as he made his way lower, over my belly. “Open for me, baby.”

  I widened my legs, trying not to feel embarrassed that I was exposing my wet pussy to him.

  He settled his shoulders between my thighs as his eyes drank in my pussy. He looked up with a wicked smile. “You’re so wet. Tell me that’s for me.”

  “It’s for you,” I managed.

  “Hold on, baby, because I’m going to make you scream with pleasure.”

  I wasn’t sure if he meant literally or not, but just in case, my hands fisted in the sheets, as his slid under my backside, and his lips gently sucked the skin of my inner thigh.

  “Dylan,” I moaned, needing him to stop teasing me.

  “Keep doing that. Keep saying my name.” His tongue pressed against my pussy, taking a long slow drag through my folds then swirling around my clit.

  I cried out and my body arched off the bed as delicious sensation coursed through my body. I released the bedsheet and reached for him.

  “I want to feel you,” I said as my hands found his shirt.

  “This is about you, baby.”

  “Please.”

  He moved quickly, popping the buttons of his shirt as he pulled it open. He hadn’t completely redone his pants from before, so he was able to strip them off. Then he settled between my thighs again.

  “Yes,” I sighed as his warm skin brushed against mine and his mouth was on me again.

  “You taste so fucking sweet.” His fingers opened my pussy lips and his tongue thrust inside me.

  “Oh God!” My hips lifted off the bed again. They gyrated as his mouth devoured me. My pussy was throbbing. My body was on fire.

  He groaned, and the vibration of it against my pussy sent a whole new level of torturous pleasure through my body.

  “Oh God, don’t stop … don’t stop …” I was writhing as his tongue licked and thrust inside me and then he sucked on my clit.

  “Give me your pussy juice, Tessa.” His lips wrapped around my clit and sucked as his finger thrust inside me.

  My body instantly went taut as I reached the pinnacle and then shot off into the stratosphere. “Dylan!” My hips rocked against his mouth as sweet pleasure flooded my body. His mouth sucked and licked as his finger fucked me and it was amazing.

  When it was done, I felt like my bones had liquified.

  “I’ve got to fuck you, Tessa … I’m dying here.” He moved up my body and gripped my hips. “Please, tell me I can have you.”

  “Yes.” It felt like a dream come true to hear the desperate need in his voice.

  “I’m sorry baby, this might hurt.”

  My hands gripped his shoulders. “Fuck me.”

  He growled and thrust, filling me in an instant. I cri
ed out and arched again, not in pain, but at the thrill of feeling him inside me.

  “I’m sorry … I can’t wait,” he said, pushing up on his hands. His hips began to pump, hard and fast, and it was so good. So good. Immediately, my body responded. Pleasure built again, each slide of his dick inside me pushing me up and up.

  He was panting, his hips crashing into me, physically moving me on the bed. I put my hands on the headboard to hold me in place.

  “Fuck, I’m coming …” He plunged in, his hips grinding against mine, hitting my clit and sending me off into oblivion again. “God, yes … come on me.” He withdrew and thrust in again. Warmth filled my pussy. I held on to him. I had no idea what would happen when we came out of this sexual high, so right now I’d hold on to the perfection of this man inside me, our bodies moving in sync as one.

  16

  Dylan

  I really was trying to do the right thing. Tessa deserved a better man than me, that I knew for sure. But it killed me to think that she internalized my trying to do right by her as rejection. That I thought there was something wrong with her. When I went to the bedroom to talk to her, I had no intention of fucking her, at least not with my dick. It wasn’t about me getting off. It was about showing her how amazing I thought she was. How beautiful and sexy I found her. I wanted to give her pleasure to stop her pain.

  Her responsiveness to my touch drove me wild. The way she arched and moved to my mouth devouring her pussy made me so hard, it was a wonder I didn’t come just from that. When her pussy juice flooded my mouth, I went crazy with need. I had to get inside that sweet, hot, wet pussy or I would die.

  I shot my load deep inside her like a teenage boy having his first fuck. I was mad with it. But more than the primal instinct to mate was the soul-deep need to make her mine. As I came down from sexual high, the intensity of that need scared the shit out of me, even as it lingered and urged me to not to ignore it. I’d never felt that before. I’d loved Veronica, there was no doubt about it, but I hadn’t felt this connection to her that I seemed to have for Tessa. It was like my soul was drawn to her.