by Xavier Neal
“God Kellan,” my voice chants in breathless pants against the crook of his neck.
All of a sudden, his arms tightly engulf me, and a low rumble rips from his lips. “Bloody hell...I'm coming.”
His shudders merge with mine until we're both coming so hard my soul aches.
Is that a thing? Is that what sex is supposed to be like every time and I've just been missing out? Oh shit...Have I been doing it wrong?
Despite being winded, Kellan strives to explain, “It matters because it tells me whether to give your body what it wants....” his face turns towards mine, “or what it needs.” He sweetly pushes a strand of hair behind my ear. “And now that you've had what you need, I will spend the rest of the night giving you what you want....”
I start to smile at the same time he does.
Too bad it's only one night...I would love to have a life time of this. But, like I've learned the hard way, you rarely get exactly what you want, so it's best to enjoy the little bit of what you're given no matter how much it may hurt when it's gone. Damn it. Now I've got that Rolling Stones song stuck in my head....Bet you do too now that I mentioned it. Ha. You're welcome.
Kellan
The sound of Brie's heavy breathing swells my chest with satisfaction.
I did that. I wore her out to point she collapsed in a delicious defeat. To be truthful, I was directly behind her. The minute her eyes fell shut and her breathing steadied, I draped my arm around her and followed suit. While I'm not quite sure exactly how long we were completely lost in our sexual rhapsody, I do know it's too soon for the sun to be caressing the clouds. It should still be in bed like the two of us. If it's rising that means the most amazing week of my life has finally come to an end. And I'm not ready for that. I don't think I'll ever be ready for that.
My finger gingerly grazes the curve of her back, enraptured with the way she's displayed for me. Her body slightly stirs as if unsure whether it should wake for more or continue to peacefully slumber.
She should always wake up for more. I want her to always want more from me. For her to be as in dire need of me as I have stumbled into becoming in dire need of her.
Now palming her beautifully firm ass, I lower my tongue to the exposed portion of her neck and lasciviously lick, until it elicits a sacchariferous sigh. Swiftly, I slide my tongue between her slightly parted lips and nudge her legs apart. My hand casually slips to the exposed territory and gently glides a finger against it. Brie hums her approval. After one final tease with my tongue, I pull back, reach over to the nightstand beside her, and grab a condom.
More clever than I appear. I put a stash on each bed side table so no matter where we ended up, they were easily accessible. However, I never imagined we could possibly risk running out. Had we not fallen asleep when we did, we might have. That would have been a new one for me as well.
As soon as my dick is protected, I angle her leg a little higher, and sharply thrust through the tender muscles. She instantly sighs my name like a forbidden prayer while her pussy squeezes it's relief at my return. A low growl festers in the back of my throat and I push deeper, desperate to reassure her there's isn't an inch inside or out that will ever be forgotten. Relentlessly, I rock, almost pulling completely out each time just to have her scorching heat continuously seer my cock from root to tip. Between carnal cries, Brie finds the savage rhythm with me and uses one hand to toy with her clit. The moment the other carelessly clutches the sheet, I pin it in place, wanting nothing to distract from the intoxicating abandonment we've fallen into. I watch as the woman I can't ever seem to stop thinking about, slips her bottom lip between her teeth indicating an orgasm is only breaths away. Her body slowly begins to seize, taking mine with it and everything else ceases to exist. Our moans endlessly oscillate and my eyes fall shut enraptured by the erotic harmony.
Why does this no longer feel like sex? Why is it every time I touch her it feels like so much more? What is this? What's happening to me?
Mere seconds after pulling out and swiftly disposing of the used rubber, there's a knocking on the front door I'm dreading to answer.
“Who's knocking before the sun is even up?” Brie questions with a hint of somberness in her voice.
She knows as well as I do our sacred time together is almost over.
I hit her with a playful smirk and grab the pair of jeans I wore to dinner. Quickly, I head out of the bedroom and for the door where the knocking is growing in urgency.
When I open it, Melinda extends the two cups in her hands. “Your wake-up call, sir.”
A deep sigh leaves me despite the fact I arranged this. “Why do I feel like they moved 7 a.m.?”
“Time always seems to move quicker when you live with passion instead of apathy.” She gives me a small smile. “Your bags will be collected in an hour and your requested pastries will be waiting for you downstairs when you check out.”
“And Swiss?”
“Already waiting in the lobby.”
I give her a curt nod. “Thank you.”
She gives me another polite grin and dismisses herself.
By the time I arrive back in the bedroom, Brie has already slumped back between the sheets and began to drift back the direction she came. Rather than wake her, I lean against the frame and silently stare, anxious to chisel into my memory every detail possible.
Look at how her soft brown skin glimmers in the early morning light. The way her lips are still full from our kisses. How she's curved in a such a way there's space for me to easily fit beside her as if we were puzzle pieces rather than people. Why the hell did I ever think it would be easy to walk away from her?
“Quit leering at me like I'm a new tie in your closet,” she yawns, eyes still closed. “We've talked about this. It's creepy.”
And her attitude is the bow that keeps everything tied together perfectly.
“Is that anyway to speak to the man who not only brought you to climax but brought you hot chocolate as well?”
One eye pops open.
“That's right.” I smirk and approach the bed. “I always deliver on my promises, love.”
She rolls over to face me though I'm unsure if the glow she's radiating is from sex or the term of endearment.
Which it is. It is a common term of endearment. Why are you asking me if that's the case here? No. No, I don't have time to have that argument with you again and pack.
The moment the cup is in her hands she has a long sip and hums her gratification. “Indeed you do.”
Unable to resist our playful banter, I poke, “Are you referencing my promise to deliver you a morning beverage or my promise to give you what wanted all night?”
She tilts her head and retorts, “Did you though?”
My jaw slightly slacks.
With a victorious giggle, she has another sip, and gives me a reassuring wink.
I wasn't worried whether or not I successfully pleased her. I was there. Your mouth can fake many things, but your body can't. Well. If you know what to look for.
“I have to start packing...” I quietly declare at the same time I sit on the edge of the bed beside her.
Her shoulders drop, but she nods her understanding. “I guess I should get dressed.”
“Since I don't want the room attendants seeing your luscious body in this state, I would say that's probably for the best.” This time when she smiles, I lean over and press my lips possessively against hers. There's no resistance to let me mark her in what I hate to believe is our next to last kiss.
No...I can't stay. I just...I can't.
While packing has become an easy routine for me that I can mindlessly accomplish, packing whilst engaged in tangled tongues and stolen strokes is a completely different matter. However, somehow, everything ends up being prepared for the bell hops at their arrival.
In the SUV, Brie's leaned against my chest, silently picking at the raspberry cream cheese Danish, doing her best to avoid the fruit portion.
I give her forehea
d a sweet kiss. “You do know that raspberries aren't poisonous, right?”
“They taste like nature's old candy.” She sucks the filling off her thumb. “Next time, we should do doughnuts. Or doughnut holes. Or if you just insist on being fancy we could do crepes. They're basically thin pancakes you can stuff with chocolate.” Before I'm given the chance to reply verbally or physically, she pulls herself out of my grasp, and mutters to herself. “Not that there's going to be a next time, but in case there is-” Brie cuts herself off and locks eyes with me. “I'm trying not to make this awkward and am failing.”
“Miserably,” I tease in hopes to see a glint of the trouble I've come to adore.
Instead she shamefully hides her face.
It was a joke! I wasn't intending to be an asshole!
My fingers tilt her chin and I state firmly, “I was kidding.”
She tries to smile.
“You're not the only one who's terrible at goodbyes,” I confess as the car pulls to a stop in her apartment complex.
“What do you usually do?” She snaps harshly. “Just tell them the money is on the nightstand and then grab a shower?”
Sensing the defensive shift in her, I put down what's left of our breakfast, and slip our fingers together. “I'm gonna let the whore comment go because I know it would be easier to leave while you're cross with me rather than....” The end of the sentence abruptly fades into the unknown. I clear my throat and attempt to continue, “Most of the time, they decide to let themselves out. They thank me for the amazing time, leave their numbers if I don't already have it, and go on their way. The rare cases where I have to initiate their departure, it moves quite similarly. I announce I have engagements to attend for the day and offer to provide them with a ride home or wherever they need to go. I don't say goodbyes, Brie. Goodbyes mean something and those women have always been meaningless.” Her grip tightens and I reassure, “Saying goodbye to you isn't something I'm prepared for. I'm not even sure how...”
All of a sudden, she reaches up and gives my cheek a small stroke. For a moment the two of us merely stare into each other's eyes, studying their colors, their depths, their intensities. Afterward, she leans over and gently pushes her lips to mine. They linger for what feels like an eternity before briefly parting to give our tongues their last taste.
Brie pulls away much too soon and sighs, “Have a good flight, Kellan.”
I attempt to swallow the unexpected knot in my throat.
“You can text me when you land safely if you want...”
Without thought, I reply, “I will.”
She gives me one last smile, Swiss a pat on the shoulder, and begins to exit the vehicle. I prepare to ask if she wants me to walk her to her door, if she wants this goodbye to stretch out as long as I do, but the door slams shut giving me the answer.
It's probably for the best. I can't imagine any good would come from prolonging the inevitable.
My eyes follow her movements until she's completely disappeared from my sight. In a weak tone I instruct, “To the airstrip.”
Swiss puts the vehicle in drive and makes his way back towards the entrance. As we pull out on the main road, the loitering lump in my throat amplifies tremendously. I shut my eyes tightly in a pointless attempt to forget it's there.
It'll go away. It has too.
The sound of my phone vibrating unexpectedly pierces my ears and I rush to check it. Seeing the photo of my brother's cheerful mug during an embrace with his wife only furthers expands the blockage of my vocal chords.
I reluctantly answer, my voice slightly hoarse. “Hello.”
“Don't tell me you're still sleeping,” Kristopher fusses. “You knew you had to fly this morning. How bloody hung-over are you?”
The side of my head hits the window. “I'm not.”
Though I wish I were. I wish right now I was so inebriated I didn't know my own name let alone hers. That would make the pain bearable.
A small lull occurs before Kristopher says, “Are you headed to the airstrip now?”
Swiss pulls up to another red light.
It's impressive he's hit every one since we left her apartment.
“Yes.”
He immediately hums in relief, “Good.”
“Good? As in you'll be pleased to have me back? Not enjoying the way my absence has been lowering the risk of you having a stroke at an early age?”
“It means I can share the gracious amount of attention brewing around the Valentine's Day ball,” Kristopher sighs. “The media is in a frenzy over concerning themselves with what Soph is to wear and which designers won't stop calling and what we'll be serving as the special treats for the couples....I'd much rather they trip over themselves trying to decipher if you're going stag or bringing along the latest piece of ass to effortlessly fall into your lap.”
I helplessly groan.
Never once have I dreaded going to it. It's one of our family traditions started generations ago. We open part of the palace to those deemed worthy by people who get paid to make that distinction, shower them with extravagant eats, the finest glasses of wine, and allow them to feel a touch of what people perceive to be the royal treatment. It's a bloody joke. Most of the traditions we still keep around are...
“Why does everyone care what I'm wearing?” Sophia grouses in the background. “I should wear a turtleneck and khakis. That'll teach them to value what I say less than what I fucking wear.”
The sound of her voice brings me minor solace yet strains a thought I had steadily been avoiding. “Is that Soph?”
“Of course it is. My other wife wouldn't make such a big deal out of the annual ball.”
“Your other wife also looks like a speckled frog naked,” she quips quickly.
“May I speak with her?”
He instantly asks, “Why?”
“Before your blood pressure spikes, you can rest assured it's not to discuss your measurements of any kind.”
Yes, even in agony, I'm still quite a bastard.
There's a shuffling sound and then a sweet voice, “His measurements will be cut in twain if he brings up the subject of this damn dance again.”
“Ball.”
“What do you want Kellan?”
I let out a deep sigh, “Can we speak in private?”
“Out of the room,” she fusses at my brother.
An exchange of some sort occurs but my attention is lost outside the window as the university Brie attends completely fades from sight.
“Gone,” Soph sings with what I imagine is a smirk.
“Soph....” I slowly begin, searching for the correct words to convey everything while confessing nothing. “Would it be wrong to stay?”
She adjusts the phone. “In the states?”
“Yes.”
“That depends.”
“On?”
“If it has anything to do with the woman you had Clarence search for last week.”
Did you...Did you tell her?!
Before I can prod for further information, she informs, “He mentioned it the next morning on his way to see your father. He could barely keep it in. You know, it's not every day Prince Kellan calls for a favor from the in-house security team.”
Another groan escapes.
Great. Just what I needed. Rumors that'll get my father involved in my life. Swear the staff gossips more than the tabs sometimes.
“Don't worry,” Soph says dropping her tone. “I told him not to mention it to anyone, your brother included. Though...Kris does hate the elusiveness you've created around the subject. It's very unlike you to give subtle clues, but never an actual answer. His frustration over the subject is hilarious to watch.”
Instantly, I smile.
“But you can rest easy. Her identity is still a mystery to everyone besides me and Clarence.” The pause is brief. “At least it is until you don't get on the jet to come home....”
I press my lips together and shut my eyes. “Am I mad for wanting to stay?”
You don't have to be so snotty as you agree with her.
“Kellan, you don't flee from the first woman you've ever loved-”
“I never said-”