"You kept that as well?"
"A memento...or something."
Warm and fuzzy feeling hits me again...
He strolls up to me and takes me in his arms. "I'm gonna take a shower, and then I'm gonna cook you dinner."
"I'm already cooking dinner, can't you see?"
"Well, after I take a shower, and after I take your dress off, I'm gonna cook you dinner. It's the least I can do for my rich girlfriend putting me up in such a fine pad."
"I'm not rich. But I'll accept dinner. And about that shower, maybe I want you sweaty..."
I pull his sweater collar down and lick his briny skin.
"Trust me, babe, you'll want me to shower."
"Maybe I'll join you."
"Turn the oven off then."
"It's not on."
"Feels like it."
In the shower, Axle kisses me down the neck while his erection caresses the inside of my butt cheeks. Warm rainwater sprinkles down my hair and nipples. He slides two gentle fingertips across the scar on my stomach, first left, then right.
He kisses my back, my spine. He gets down on his knees and kisses my butt, licks the middle of it, delicately, bottom to top. My skin breaks out in goose pimples.
He stands again.
He pushes me slowly forward by the shoulders and I put my hands against the tile wall. I bend down, just a little. He eases himself into me from behind and, when he enters me, the gasp escapes me without my will. He pushes in, then out, slowly increasing the friction.
I start touching myself but he moves my hand away. "This is just the start," he says. As he moves in me I hear my whimpers mixed in with the sounds of falling water.
He eases himself out again.
He turns me, pushes me against the wall. The wall is cold but his stomach and chest are hot as he presses against me. He lifts my left leg and hooks his elbow underneath my knee to hold it up. He pushes firmly against me on the wall so that I'm braced and won't fall.
He moves around below, trying to enter me. I grab his cock and maneuver it inside me.
The leg I'm standing on melts, and my groan echoes and reverberates between the water droplets and out into the rest of the bathroom. I'm practically hanging on him. He moves up and down, not too hard, not too fast. My whole body moves with him because I have no strength with which to stand on anymore. I tense up below.
With every movement I want him more.
My stomach shifts up into my lungs. I swell and tighten up around him.
I bite my lower lip and his groan bounces around sensuously inside me.
My back hurts a little on the wall behind me but I love the reality of it.
He eases out of me.
We get out the shower and he towels me off, wiping the beads of water off my breasts, my butt, my stomach.
My crotch.
When he wipes me there he massages me, using the towel, and it blasts hot fire over my skin.
I need him now. He's played it slow and gotten me ready. Too ready.
I grab his manhood and squeeze it, pull him toward me. Our mouths meet, blazing, needful, burning.
He gets what I want.
I turn and walk out, lie on the bed.
I open my legs and watch him saunter into the room with his hard-on aimed at the sky and his chest heaving.
He crawls on top of me. Before I know it, his eyes lock on mine and he enters me, thrusting, pushing, rocking. I rock with him. We sway, crush, grind.
I howl.
He roars.
When he explodes inside me, I clutch him with every ounce of strength I can find. It pushes me over that delicate edge and I'm falling, falling, falling as he throbs furiously against my inner walls.
His warmth enters me, fills me.
When I'm done, and when he's done, I hold him.
Later, he turns me onto my stomach. He enters me from behind and, in the end, he kisses my ear, then my spine, and finally between my legs.
He licks me there and devours me.
Later again, I'm now on top of him, grinding him, letting my hair fall on his face as his eyes clench and pleasure flows all through his splendid body.
We spoon.
But we don't fall asleep.
Much later still, he hardens again, and he enters me from behind as we lie on our sides. He cups my breast and rocks into me. He pulls me by the waist to try and turn me but I clutch his hand and hold it, stopping him.
"You can't come in this position," he says.
"I don't have to. And I also like it when only you come."
Instinct takes over him and I feel him throbbing as he orgasms in me. He fills me with his seed while his hand tenses and shivers over my imperfect breasts.
At about three, maybe four A.M., he says, "So much for that dinner I promised you."
"I thought that was dinner."
He lies on his back. I lie on my side. His eyes close. I trace lines on his chest. My eyes finally also close.
I dream...
-2-
In my dream, I'm at a lake, or maybe a bayou.
There's a pier, and it's made of wood. There's a house there. There's a man on the pier. He's holding an ax. He's chopping wood. His name is also Ax. In my dream I find that funny.
The sun shines from behind him, washing him in golden light.
In my arms is a baby. Her skin is pink and her eyes are blue, like the eyes of the man on the pier.
Ax. Right. That's her father.
The baby smiles when I look down at her. I ease down my shirt and let her drink from my breast.
"She hungry?" asks the man called Ax.
"So it seems."
He continues to cleave wood.
When she's finished I lift her onto my shoulder and tap her back. She burps. I bring her back down and wipe the milk off her chin and napkin and laugh at what a mess she's made. I move closer to the man.
"I'm done," he says. He puts the ax down. "We'll have enough wood for tonight."
I give him the child and he holds her. She makes him instantly smile. He sways her in his arms and she starts laughing at him.
He sings to her.
"You think of a name for her yet?" he asks.
"I was thinking, maybe, Zoey?"
He considers it. "I like Emily better."
"We still have time."
He presses his index against her button-nose. He kisses her forehead. He holds her securely by one arm so her back is to his chest and so she's looking out at the lake. Then he moves his lips down to mine and kisses me softly.
"It's all OK now, isn't it?" I ask.
"It's all OK, babe. All OK."
He puts his free arm around me and we look out into the lake.
In my dream, the sun is setting.
In life, when I open my eyes, the sun is rising.
WHAT'S REAL. WHAT'S NOT.
The story itself is boss. Depending on the genre, certain aspects of a story need to be emphasized more than others.
The Lizzi Miller photo shoot in Glamour is real. You can search for Lizzi Miller Glamour to find the article about it. Here's a link to an article by the Glamour editor: http://www.glamour.com/health-fitness/blogs/vitamin-g/2009/08/on-the-cl-the-picture-you-cant.html
Xinastriasis doesn't exist. But you probably figured that out already. I based it loosely off Trichomoniasis. I needed something that absolutely could not be transmitted by kissing whether the person's gums bleed or they have open sores or whatever. And I didn't want the characters to wait for three weeks before sharing a kiss.
So, I made it up.
Writers can do that.
There were other medical points that I had to take liberties on. This is not a medical romance after all so I chose to relegate absolute accuracy to second place. More specifically, the window period for STD's. If my research was correct, twelve weeks is really the time you need to wait to be one hundred percent certain of many of them. Having said that, testing continues to evolve so much that even that might
be outdated in a few years.
I also skillfully (or not so skillfully) avoided the whole subject of antiretroviral drugs after a high-risk exposure by just not even mentioning them.
I believe you have to register a SIM card in Germany before you can use it. I took an artistic liberty on that point. One day, technology will have locked our freedoms down so much that we won't even be able to create stories where a character successfully "runs away" unless we write it as a "historical romance" i.e. something set in the late twentieth century!
There is no pub with leprechauns and kegs on the walls in Sachsenhausen. Although I believe there should be. In general, the author believes there should just be leprechauns in the world, period.
There is no place called Austin Meatpackers but there is a place called Chicago Meatpackers in Frankfurt. I liked the name but I didn't want to get into trouble for saying mean things about the place so I decided to change the name.
No, jokes aside, everything about that place was fictionalized. Whether the bartender just started shaving, and whether there are hot blondes there ready to pick up US soldiers, I really don't know.
But there really are US soldiers that go there for dinner sometimes.
There is an English Theater.
Prostitution is legal in Germany.
Pimping is not.
There really is a Red Light District.
There is no brothel called Kama Inside Me. I got the idea for the name when researching brothels and finding one with Kama Sutra paintings inside it.
There really are chains on the walls of some and, at least in one, there really is a dentist chair (shudders).
Most everything else about the Red Light District was made up. I really let my imagination run wild on that one...
The stuff about pressing charges in Germany was loosely accurate. I believe, in cases of physical assault, it's up to the victim to lay charges and, if he doesn't, the cops don't get involved. But this might not be entirely accurate.
It is accurate that you'll get a fine for sexual acts performed in public. The penalties are more serious if the act was done somewhere where it could be observed by minors.
The technical stuff about how Gen's emails got hacked is loosely accurate. This isn't a techno-thriller so I didn't want to get too much into it.
There is such a thing as the Romeo and Juliet clause in many US states.
I chose Frankfurt as a location for this story because I've been there many times and there are plenty of Americans around and English people and tourists and the chances that they'd bump into each other are actually quite high. The English Theater also has a monthly get-together for local English speakers. Romances are always set in the US or in London or Paris... I wanted to be different.
And what about Axle and Genevieve? Do they exist?
Of course they do. All of my characters exist in the world of my mind. And now hopefully they exist in yours, too.
If you still don't believe me, just email them...
Axle Rhodes: [email protected]
Genevieve Katz: [email protected]
OTHER TITLES
By Rachel Dunning:
Know Me, #1 Truthful Lies
Find Me, #2 Truthful Lies
Finding North, #1 Naïve Mistakes Trilogy
East Rising, #2 Naïve Mistakes Trilogy
West-End Boys, #3 Naïve Mistakes Trilogy
Like You, #1 Perfectly Flawed Series
Christmas Comfort, #1 Hot Holidays Series
Girl-Nerds Like it Harder, #1 Girl-Nerd Series
Girl Nerds Like it Faster, #2 Girl-Nerd Series
Girl-Nerds Like it Deeper, #3 Girl-Nerd Series
Girl-Nerds Like it Longer, #4 Girl-Nerd Series
For news of upcoming releases, visit:
http://racheldunningauthor.blogspot.com
PERSONAL MESSAGE FROM THE AUTHOR
If you enjoyed this book, I would love it if you could tell others about it. RECOMMEND it or REVIEW it!
Tell your friends about it, your family, heck, tell the cashier at Walmart about it! (Or Sainsbury's if you're from the UK.) You talk about it on a forum, online groups, book clubs, Twitter, Facebook, or wherever you like to hang out—online or offline.
If you do happen to review the book, send me an email at [email protected] letting me know about it and I will thank you with a personal email. You can also mail me about anything else you like. I'd love to hear from you!
The Perfectly Flawed series will follow similar themes to the ones in this story but the upcoming books will likely be told from the viewpoint of other characters, possibly even some you've already met in this story.
To subscribe to news of further releases please visit my website here: http://racheldunningauthor.blogspot.com.
Love,
R
Like You (Perfectly Flawed #1) Page 29