by Beth Michele
“Ow,” she whines, and I smooth my hand over it to soothe her. She eases my shirt up, her cold fingers inching up my back, her touch making me tremble. “I’ve never fucked in an elevator before. I think we should do that sometime.”
“If you don’t stop talking like that, that sometime might just be now,” I say with a frustrated breath, staring at the numbers, willing them to move faster.
“Hmmm…,” she teases, and I smack her ass, chuckling at her eagerness to complete her sexual bucket list.
The car finally dings and I continue with her over my shoulder. “Let’s go, my sexual temptress.” I practically sprint down the hall and push my door open, kicking it closed behind us. When I set her down, my chest is flush with hers. “So what do you want to do now?” I cock a brow, my eyes piercing her fiery ones, and her lips turn up devilishly.
“Everything.” Her fingers skate across my stubble, the sight of her tongue swiping across her lip has me adjusting myself in my jeans. “I’m aching for you,” she rasps, her voice so sexy I nearly drop to my knees so I can taste her pussy and give her what I know we both want.
“I know the feeling.” I lift her hair, and she moans as I trail kisses down her neck.
“Rex.”
“Yes?” I continue my descent down her skin, feeling starved for her after being without her for way too long.
“I think we should go get these wet clothes off,” she murmurs, but I don’t want to take my lips off of her just yet.
“Rex?”
“God, I love the way you say my name, baby. You have no idea how the sound of your voice—makes me hard.” My gaze travels lower. “The sight of your nipples, stiff and sensitive—gets me hard.” I let my fingers rove over the space between her legs. “The smell of your wet pussy—gets me hard.”
“Hmmm… Rex, please. Let’s go get naked.” Somehow she manages to skirt around me and I chase her to my room, tackling her on the bed. She squirms underneath me when I tickle her ribs, her laughter filling the barren space with happiness. “Stop! Rex, come… on, we’re soaked, your… bed.”
I finally let up and she climbs off, taking me with her. “Strip, Rex Grayson. Now,” she demands, as she slides her t-shirt over her head. I do the same, and we’re meeting each other item for item until I’m in only my boxers and she’s in her bra and panties.
“It seems you’re at an unfair advantage. You have two pieces of clothing left to my one,” I say, before she falls to her knees in front of me and yanks down my boxers, speckles of mischief in her eyes when she looks up at me. “I like the view from up here,” I joke, but my laughter subsides when her tongue darts out to lick my swollen head and a shudder barrels through me.
She seals her lips around my cock, taking me into her warm mouth. And then she sucks. Hard. It feels too good and I know I need to stop her.
“Baby, stop. I want to be inside you when I come.” I lift her to her feet then take a seat on the bed. “So, bra and panties off.”
Her hands disappear behind her back and I hear the welcome flick of the clasp before the straps slide off her shoulders and it falls to the floor. I know I’m staring, but her tits are fucking perfect and I need to get reacquainted with them. That is, until she slips her panties down her legs and I can’t decide where I want to go first.
My eyes move slowly over every inch of her skin, drinking her in, my cock twitching against my abdomen. “You are fucking perfect.” I crook a finger at her, wanting her near, and she comes willingly.
When she’s standing between my legs, I glide my hand up the curve of her spine to her neck and pull her down for a kiss, her breasts nearly brushing my chest, my skin tingling being this close to her again.
I back us up, breaking our connection only for a minute. “I wanted to worship you but I need to be inside you… so badly.”
“I want that too,” she breathes, and I lace our fingers together while I reach back with my other hand and grab a condom from the drawer. Her gaze doesn’t waver from mine, watching me as I roll it on.
Scooting up the bed, I lean back against the headboard. “Hop on my lap,” I tell her, and as she lifts her leg, hovering above me, I slide my thumb over her clit and she whimpers. As much as I want to be inside her, I need to feel her. Moisture drenches my finger and I close my eyes, sucking in a sharp breath. She’s always so wet for me, so responsive, and my dick grows harder, if that’s even possible.
“Your pussy is so wet,” I groan, and she rubs herself back and forth against my finger, telling me with her moans that she wants more.
Reaching between us, she takes my cock, replacing my finger, and lingers just below her entrance. She lowers herself down, taking me all the way in until I’m completely filling her.
“Slow, baby.” I take both her hands in mine. “You feel so good.”
“Oh God, Rex. It’s so deep like this. I feel you so deep,” she moans, lips parted, head dropping back. But I need to see her. I need to look at her. I want to look at her.
“Baby, look at me,” I command, and she immediately lifts her head up, an unreadable emotion in her eyes, and I wonder now if she was trying to hide from me so I wouldn’t see it. A part of me also considers if mine reflect that same emotion. Because I know something is going on inside of me, shaking my core, unsteadying me. Yet at the same time, nothing has ever felt better.
“This feels so right, you and me.” My voice is strained from pleasure as the words slip out of my mouth. Vanessa’s eyes shine in response, a pink undertone to her cheeks. She’s staring at me like I just gave her the world. And I think maybe I want to.
“Rex… I need to move.”
“So move, baby. Ride me like your life depends on it.” I grin, and she rotates her hips, rocking her hot as hell body against me. I separate our hands and dig my fingers into her skin, grinding my cock, taking us both higher. My mouth finds her nipple and I suck hard, eliciting a desperate moan from her throat.
“Rex… it feels too good… I’m gonna come.” Sweat glistens on her forehead, her lips opening on a shallow breath.
“Come, baby, come all over my cock.”
“Ahhhh…,” she shouts out, and I feel her pussy clenching and pulsing, squeezing my cock, spurring me toward my own release, which is going to be insane. It’s been too long.
“Fuuuck!” My breathing is erratic, and the moment she leans forward and licks my nipple is when I explode, all the pent-up frustration of the previous week releasing inside of her. Unable to manage any words, I frame her face with my hands and lift it from my chest, pressing my lips to her mouth.
“You taste sweet and salty,” she says winded, “and it’s making me hungry.”
“Ready for… dessert?”
I’m breathless, trying to come down from the absolute high she gives me. My body is completely relaxed beneath her, the idea of moving not all that appealing.
“Affirmative.” She points a finger at my chest. “You stay here. I’ll get it.”
“Good. Because that means I get to stare at your ass as you walk away,” I tease, and she makes a show of it, wiggling as she saunters off into the living room.
God, I’m fucking crazy about this girl.
Two minutes later she comes back, our to-go bag and plates in one hand, her other hand waving in the air. “Okay, what is the deal with the lack of utensils and dishes in this apartment? I’m buying you some. Don’t you ever eat?”
“You worried about me?” I ask, and she tries to hide a smile as she plops down on the bed next to me. “I eat take out a lot and sometimes if I work late at the shop, I’ll just grab something with the guys. I have popcorn though.”
She flicks my arm before opening up the bags. “Okay, so cheesecake for you, which I’m trying,” she adds under her breath, “and chocolate for me. I’ll let you try mine if you let me try yours,” she suggests, flashing me a coy smile.
“Nah. That’s okay. I don’t want any of yours.” I grin, taking a bite. “Well, your cake anyway.”
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br /> “Hmmm… this is soooo good.” She closes her eyes, sticking her naked breasts in my direction. “Oh! I almost forgot. Did you know that Hunter is flying everyone out to Hawaii for their wedding?”
“News to me,” I reply flatly, continuing to devour my cheesecake, but secretly saving a bite for her.
Frustrated, she sets her plate down on the bed. “That’s all you have to say about it. I think it’s amazing and so generous.”
“He can afford it. He’s ridiculously rich. He could probably send his entire company.”
“Still, it’s really nice of him.” She wipes a bit of chocolate from the corner of her mouth. “I’m excited and I’ve never been to Hawaii. Have you?”
“Nope,” I respond without an ounce of regret. “I can count on one hand the places I’ve been: Boston, New York, California, Ohio. That’s it.”
She picks up her fork, twirling some of the frosting around with it. “I’ve traveled a lot in the years I’ve been doing events, but Hawaii is one place I always wanted to go.”
“Here.” I hold the fork in front of her face. “You can have the last two bites,” I offer, and she opens, closing her eyes and savoring the taste.
“Oh my God. That is really good.”
“So,” I can’t help the nervous twinge in my voice, “I have something for you.”
“You do?” She bounces, her tone rising several octaves.
“Indeed I do, Blondie. Indeed I do.” I try to sound confident even though inside I’m shitting bricks. I’ve never done anything like this before and I want her to like it.
Before my nerves immobilize my feet, I zip off the bed, plodding to my closet and taking the gift down from the top shelf. I can feel her eyes on me the entire time, the excitement rolling off of her in waves. A few steps take me back, and I sink down next to her, handing her the package.
It suddenly feels too warm in here and I rub the back of my neck, attempting to lessen the mountain of anxiety my limbs need to overcome. She stares at the wrapping for a long minute, my tension building each second she waits to open it.
“Did you wrap this yourself?” she asks, and I can’t manage anything more than a nod in response. A grin tugs at her lips. “It’s impressive.” She concentrates back on the gift, tearing the paper open in a very unladylike manner.
That’s my girl.
“Ahhh.” Her lips separate in a gasp as she stares at the drawing. “It’s me,” she whispers, glancing up at me briefly before returning her focus to the picture. A shaky finger traces the pencil lines of her hair, her eyes, the bowed outline of her lips. “When did you do this?”
“While we were apart,” I shrug, “I had a lot of time on my hands. That was the first time you smiled at me. We were at the bar with Hunter and Olivia.”
She shakes her head, astonished. “It doesn’t even look like me… I mean, it looks like me, but I look—different—happy almost.”
“That’s the way I see you. It’s what I see when I look at you.” Her profile changes, and I watch the right side of her mouth curve up, a hint of wetness in the corner of her eye that she quickly swats away.
I move closer and rest my chin on her shoulder, reaching out with my hand. “You see, down here,” I point to her mouth, “how when you smile the right side of your mouth lifts a little higher than your left,” my finger moves to her cheek, “and here,” I run my finger back and forth, “the soft angle of your cheekbone, and over here,” my thumb traces her hairline, “the way this one strand always escapes from behind your ear, settling on the side of your face. And up here,” I circle my finger just above her brow, “this cute little freckle that doesn’t go unnoticed. And last, but not least,” I draw a path back down her skin, “the tiny pucker in your cheek that can only be seen when you smile big.”
With a voice strained in disbelief, her head turns a fraction, my lips skimming her chin. “It’s like you have me memorized.”
“I do, baby,” I whisper. “I do.”
After laying the picture on the bed, she flips her body around to face me, eyes glued to mine. Her hands find my face, fingers gliding over my eyebrow, my cheek, my chin, my lips. “No one has ever done anything like this for me before, and… I don’t know how to express to you how much it means to me.”
“I think you just did.” I tuck that runaway wisp of hair behind her ear. “It’s trying to escape again,” I tease, and she smiles as I press my lips to hers in a whisper of a kiss. “I’m glad you like it. It’s the first portrait I’ve done that hasn’t been inked on someone’s skin.”
She climbs onto my lap and throws her arms around me, burying her head in the crook of my neck and embracing me in a way that no one ever has before. Her acceptance wraps around me like a cloak in the dead of winter, making my breaths come easier—and I feel like it’s okay to be me.
I don’t know how long we stay like this, because it feels too damn good and neither of us pulls away until the muffled ring of her cell phone breaks our moment. I reluctantly let go of her so she can shuffle off the bed to answer it.
“Hello?” She squints at the digital clock to see what time it is. The glow in her cheeks morphs into a milky white, lips flattening, face suddenly blank of any emotion. “Yes, I’m here.” Her tone turns stale and the air grows very cold around us.
“What? You’re coming here? When?” She paces back and forth now across the carpet, gnawing on a fingernail. “Yes, fine. Let me know when you get in.” Then she hangs up without saying goodbye and I want to know who the hell that was, and why the hair is standing up on the back of my neck, an urge to protect her overwhelming me.
“Who was that?” I ask, and she doesn’t respond. Instead, she’s frantic as she scoops up her bra and panties, her clothes that are still damp, and tugs them on. “Wait, what are you doing?”
“I-I need air. I-I can’t breathe,” she says, clumsy in her efforts to dress, before taking off without another word.
“Wait!” And now I’m scrambling to get my own clothes on, following after her in my bare feet, grabbing my sneakers from beside the door. “Blondie, stop!” I call out, trying to catch up with her as she’s running down the stairs, refusing to even take the elevator. I manage to latch onto her wrist halfway down, halting her. She’s breathing heavy, nostrils flaring, tension forming a dark cloud around her body. “What’s going on? Talk to me, damn it!”
She starts chewing on that damn nail again, and I pull it from her mouth. “It was my father. He’ll be in New York tomorrow and he wants to see me. I just—can’t—” And then she takes off again and I throw my hands up in the air, chasing after her.
By the time we get down to street level, both of us are huffing and puffing, only for different reasons. She’s tired and I’m fucking frustrated.
I bend over with my hands on my knees. “Fuck. What are we doing? It’s almost midnight.”
“I just need to walk.” She stares straight ahead at everything, but I can tell she sees nothing. “I don’t want to talk right now, okay?”
“Okay,” I agree, but I reach out and latch onto her hand, thankful when she doesn’t push me away.
The air around us is laced with an uncomfortable silence, but for the first time, I know it has nothing to do with me. Whatever it is obviously relates to her father, and it must be bad because I haven’t seen her like this since we met. I don’t like it. This isn’t my Blondie. This is the girl I met at the tattoo shop, pain etched in her eyes.
A feeling of helplessness ties my stomach in knots. I want to help her but I won’t force her to talk. Personal experience tells me it will only cause her to shut down.
As we turn the corner, a small neighborhood park comes into view. It’s desolate this time of night and she leads me there, taking a seat on an old bench. The wood is worn, beaten down from time and weather. I can’t help wondering if that’s how she feels—worn down.
Still quiet, she stares at the creaky swings as I wait. Patience is not a strong suit of mine but I know that’
s what she needs right now, so I swallow hard and grant her space. In the meantime, I gently run my thumb over her knuckles so she knows I’ll be here when she’s ready.
“Like I told you earlier, I still harbor all this anger,” she admits again, voice flat, eyes locked on the playground. “Therapy didn’t help me get over it. My mother is a cold bitch and my father is apathetic and removed, affectionless.” She clears her throat and I see her fighting back the anger, her shoulders rigid, face like stone. “They never cared about me, never took an interest in me. In fact,” she lets out a harsh laugh, “I don’t know why they ever had me.”
She blows out a hard breath. “I remember this one time,” she starts, but has to take a pause before continuing. “I was getting an award for being a person of good character, I think it was in fifth grade. They told me they would be there. And even after everything, I believed them, because it was a big day for me, and because I needed to so desperately. But when I looked out into the auditorium they weren’t there. I saw Stella, though. And I saw how big she was trying to smile, because I know she saw the look on my face, how disappointed I was.” Her gaze finally finds mine. “I’ve made a life for myself that doesn’t include them. I moved from Seattle so I could be as far away from them as possible. I don’t like the stress I feel or who I am when I’m near them, who I become. It’s ugly actually and it scares me because it reminds me of my mother.”
“You’re not your mother, baby,” I reassure her, taking her hand and placing it on my thigh.
“No, but I have the potential to be. And that scares me more than anything else.” She exhales a pained sigh. “My father will be here tomorrow. He said he wants to talk. I haven’t heard from him in months and I haven’t seen him in almost two years. And I don’t want to now.”
I tug on her arm and she nestles into my side. “Call me crazy, but if you have a child, you shouldn’t just disregard them like they’re nothing. You have a responsibility to them, to care for them, to love them. I guess somehow they missed the parental training class,” she bites out.