When Fates Collide

by Isabelle Richards

  “I was going to plan a romantic holiday, but then it occurred to me, why waste all that time on travel? I don’t need amazing geography. All I need is you.”

  “When did you get here? When did you plan it? How did you find me?”

  Not truly caring about the hows and whys, I don’t give him a chance to answer before I kiss him. As our kiss deepens, our bodies push against each other as if being drawn together magnetically. His hands have moved from my neck and hair to the backs of my thighs. “Let’s go to your flat before we get arrested.”

  As we walk back to my apartment, anxiety hits me so hard I misstep and almost fall off the sidewalk. He’s telling me about his flight over, but I don’t hear a word. I’m lost in my own thoughts. Do I need to shave? What underwear am I wearing? I hope my bra and panties match. Are we really going to have sex, or is he going to want to take it slow? It’s been so long… What if I’m terrible? Birth control? Do people discuss that anymore? I’m internally panicking while I try to look collected and confident.

  Lost in my panic, I cross Potomac Street on auto-pilot without pausing to look for oncoming traffic. It’s a wonder I’m not struck down. Because that would be just my luck—a hot British guy surprises me for a romantic weekend and I get plowed down by a co-ed rushing to get to class. But that doesn’t happen. I cross the street, hot guy in tow. Maybe my luck is changing.

  “Lily, have you heard a word I’ve said?”

  I stammer as we walk up the stairs to my apartment, “Um, I–I—” I look over my shoulder and smile. “Sorry. I’m a little flustered. This’s such a surprise.”

  My hands shake as I try to get my key in the door. My mind and body are fraught with anticipation. As I fiddle with my key, Gavin stands behind me and whispers, “Whatever could you be thinking about?”

  He runs a finger down the back of my thigh as he kisses my neck. I lose track of what I’d been doing as I melt into him. “Did I put naughty thoughts in your mind?” he asks with a snicker.

  “Are you having trouble concentrating? Maybe I can help with that.” He slides his hands all the way up my skirt and traces the edge of my underwear.

  I finally get the damn door open. As soon as I’ve closed the door behind us, he grabs me and throws me on to the sofa.

  “Don’t you want the tour?” I ask casually, knowing a tour is the last thing on either of our minds.

  He kisses me like a madman, which turns me on faster than a light switch. “I think I can find my way. Don’t you worry,” he murmurs as he kisses my neck. He tries to unbutton the tiny buttons on my blouse, but they don’t want to cooperate.

  “Need some help?” I ask coyly.

  He tears my shirt open, and buttons scatter across the floor. “I think I’ve got it,” he growls. I’d loved that blouse, and my wardrobe is still severely compromised, but it’s so worth it.

  I tug at his shirt, but he tries to resist, probably thinking he’s in control. I pull my body away a bit and say, “It’s only fair. A shirt for a shirt.” My playful game seems to excite him, and he quickly pulls his shirt off, exposing his spectacular body.

  He kisses my collarbone, slowly moving across to my shoulder. He grabs my bra strap with his teeth, pulling it down to expose my breast. He gently strokes my nipple with his thumb, sending shock waves through me. His mouth slowly kisses downward until he finds my nipple, which he gently licks, then sucks. His hands move around my back to unhook my bra and free my other breast. While his tongue teases one nipple, his thumb mimics his attentions with the other. Every nerve ending in my body is on full alert, and my panties are drenched.

  I rock my hips toward him, grinding myself against his erection. His eyes roll back as he moans. That slight contact seems to energize him further as he becomes even more aroused, licking and tugging more fervently.

  I’m so turned on that I feel as though I’ll explode if he doesn’t touch me. I intertwine my legs with his and maneuver my hips so that I rub against him, leaving a trail of my wetness behind, which makes him groan.

  I’m completely wrapped up in the moment and the intensity, but then suddenly my brain turns on. We haven’t talked about this at all. That’s what mature adults do, right? They have “the talk” before they have sex. I think I read that somewhere. A civil war breaks out within me. My body screams for more while my brain lectures about birth control.

  “Gavin, we should slow down a second,” I say breathlessly, not sounding very convincing. “Should we talk about this first?”

  His hands move from my breasts down to my skirt, which he proceeds to tear off of me as though it were a piece of paper.

  “Lily, I’ve been thinking about doing this for weeks. Don’t spoil it with talking—unless you’re screaming my name, that is. I flew four thousand miles so I could finally find out how good you taste. I fully intend on completing my mission. Now lie back and prepare to have your mind blown.”

  Well, when he puts it that way…

  He kisses his way down my stomach to the top of my thong before his fingers pull it down and toss it across the room. I look down at his unbelievably toned shoulders and scarred yet beautiful back. This man is truly amazing. As he turns back to me, he kisses my knee before moving his way up my thigh to my center. I’m full of anticipation. If he doesn’t touch me soon, I’m going to have to touch myself. I can’t wait another second.

  At that moment, his tongue finds my clit, and slowly starts massaging. He licks and sucks, and my body responds instantly to the sheer pleasure. His fingers continue to massage my nipples while his tongue laps up my wetness, driving me ever closer to ecstasy. Gavin has awoken sensations in me that I’d forgotten existed. While at one point in time, I’d had an active sex life, I’ve never had this before. I become greedy, screaming out, “Don’t stop!” as I grind myself against his touch, utterly fucking his mouth. It doesn’t take long before I’m screaming in delirious bliss. My orgasm is hard and powerful, leaving me feeling high.

  We are both breathless for a moment before I turn my attention on him. I momentarily debate my mode of attack. Sex? Blow job? What’s a girl to do? I go back and forth in my head for a split second. At this point, the condom question would totally kill the moment, so I opt to follow his lead. I want him. I want to give him as much pleasure as he has given me. My body yearns for him, but I decide to take it slowly. Devilishly slowly!

  I turn into the crook of his neck and kiss him gently, seductively. I make my way up to his ear and whisper provocatively, “That was my favorite skirt. Totally ruined because someone couldn’t be patient. I think you’re going to have to practice some patience.” I look him in the eye with an intensity that lets him know that he’s in for something good.

  My kisses start off soft and wet, licking and sucking my way down his chest. While my tongue plays with his nipple, I start to unbuckle his belt. I slowly pull his pants off but leave the boxers on. My mouth returns to his delectable abs while my hands run ever so gently up and down his thighs. My touch is so soft it’s almost weightless but just heavy enough to make his body tense with anticipation.

  As my kisses move further south, I run my tongue along the edge of his boxer briefs, occasionally pulling at the elastic with my teeth as though I’m about to pull them off. But I don’t.

  I abandon his stomach and move my attention to his thighs, running my tongue up his toned quads, almost making it to the Promised Land, but not quite. Each time I travel up his thigh, Gavin gasps and moans softly. I’m torturing him, but I know he’s loving every second of it.

  Feeling he has endured enough, I finally pull his boxer briefs off slowly, and I get my first look at him. He’s enormous. Almost intimidating. But I’m a girl that likes a challenge. I run my fingertips up his impressive length. As I reach the tip, I trace my fingers around his engorged head. Gavin moans, and I know I’ve just hit a sweet spot.

  My tongue follows the lead of my fingers, starting at the base of his shaft and gently licking my way to his tip. After circling h
is tip with my tongue several times, I take him deep into my mouth. I’m amazed I’m able to take him so deeply. A girl learns she has new skills every day!

  My hand strokes his shaft as I plunge him into my mouth. With each suck, he moans in a way that drives me crazy. I feel him getting harder by the second. By the way he’s white-knuckling the sofa cushion, I think he’s getting close. “Oh God, Lily!” he screams as he releases into me.

  We lie there. Breathless, exhausted, and content.

  After our breathing returns to normal, I look up at him and say jokingly, “So, what do you think of the place?”

  He laughs and pulls me toward him to kiss me. “Better than I ever could have imagined.”

  I run a finger down his well-defined chest. “If that’s what’s going to happen when I walk through the front door every day, I might not let you leave.”

  He reaches behind him for a blanket to pull over us. “Just imagine if you came with me to London. It would be even better.”

  I swallow hard. “That can get better?”

  “Yes, luv. Everything’s better in London.”

  I roll my eyes, trying to think of a comeback, when my phone rings.

  “At least they were kind enough to wait until we finished before interrupting us this time,” Gavin says with a wink.

  I chuckle as I cross the room and dig my phone out of my purse. It’s a number I don’t recognize, so I send it to voicemail and return to Gavin and all his scrumptious muscles. I snuggle against him, taking him in. His strong jaw; eyebrows so perfect I have to wonder if he gets them waxed. For all the flack Brits get for having bad teeth, the stereotype clearly doesn’t apply to Gavin. Pearly white and flawlessly straight. He makes me wish I’d worn my retainer more after my braces came off. And then there’re his eyes. If heaven has a color, it’s the color of his eyes.

  I had thought that if I ever saw him again, the chemistry would be gone, that the sparks that I had felt before would be nothing more than static. Man, was I wrong… The heat between us is scorching, too intense to be denied. I know he’s going to leave again and I’ll be left in the smoldering ashes of my broken heart, but I can’t stay away. Not now. Gavin may be the death of me, but what a great way to go.

  A deep grumble roars from inside Gavin’s stomach.

  “I suppose I should feed you, huh?”

  His hands go to his abdomen. “Well, that’s embarrassing. I skipped breakfast because I was running late, and then I worked the whole flight and skipped the meal.”

  “I have nothing in the house, so let’s go out.”

  “Where do you want to go, and how dressy should I get?” he asks. “You know I’ve packed for all occasions.”

  I roll my eyes. “You’re such a girl,” I tease. “I was dressy and pretty before, and now that outfit’s in desperate need of a seamstress. Now we go super casual. Pizza and beer?”

  “Oh, thank God. I’d have taken you anywhere and been happy to do it. But I’m really not up for a four-course meal.” He leans over, kisses my neck, and whispers, “I’m already thinking of dessert!” He pauses for a moment and looks at me very confused. “Wait a minute… You hate beer.”

  “I can’t believe you remember. I do hate beer. The place I have in mind has cider on tap, so I’m all set.” I place a chaste kiss on his lips. “You’re just too sweet for words, you know that? A man that actually listens. Amazing!”

  We step outside into the pleasantly cool evening. A storm must be coming in because the sky is blanketed with menacing clouds. “Should we grab a brolly just in case?” he asks.

  “A what?” I ask.

  He looks at me as though I’m missing the obvious. “An umbrella.”

  I scrunch my face. “Don’t have one of those yet. I’m sure we’ll be fine. I don’t melt.”

  He goes back into my apartment anyway and returns shortly with an umbrella. I take it and tuck it into my purse. “Well, aren’t you a boy scout?”

  “What kind of Londoner would I be if I didn’t have an umbrella on hand at all times?” he replies.

  I lock the door. “Is it really as drab and dreary as books make it seem? I’ve never been.”

  He puts his arm around me. “It can be, but I’ve always felt it adds to the character of the city.” As we walk to the restaurant, he describes his favorite places and things about the city and lists the myriad reasons I’ll love them. He knows me far better than I’d realized because his reasoning is spot on.

  When we get to the restaurant, we decide to risk the rain and sit outside to enjoy the comfortable night. The patio has a great view of the Potomac, and it’s too nice to pass up. We quickly place our order, not wanting to tempt the rain gods by dilly dallying. The server soon returns with our drinks. I take an eager sip, but it takes all my effort to swallow. I slide the glass across the table, grimacing. “I believe this pint of piss belongs to you.” I grin watching him catch it as I hear the muffled ringing of my cell phone. Not recognizing the number when I pull it out, I send it to voicemail and turn off the ringer to avoid further interruptions.

  “It’s a good thing I didn’t try your apple juice. I’d have spit it out. I don’t know how you drink that syrupy sweet stuff. It’s ghastly.” He slides my cider to me and then takes a sip of his beer.

  I smirk. “Spitters are quitters.” He laughs, causing him to choke. Miraculously, he keeps all his beer down, but his face is as red as a tomato.

  He points at me. “You’re a naughty girl.”

  “Say naughty again.”

  He raises an eyebrow. “Only if you’re good.”

  “I think I’ve demonstrated I’m not a quitter. That makes me very good.”

  He shifts in his seat. “We need to change the subject, or else I may have to throw you over my shoulder and drag you back to your flat before the pizza arrives.”

  I stick my tongue out. “Party pooper.”

  “Don’t stick it out unless you’re ready to use it.”

  I cock my head. “So much for keeping it clean, Oxford.”

  Our flirtatious banter is interrupted when a server bumps the table as he sets down a huge tray of food for the diners to the right of us. The server is grossly overweight, which isn’t terribly surprising since he works in the best pizza place in town. What is surprising is that he doesn’t feel the draft when his crack is exposed for the world to see. I’d have thought all the fresh air would be good for the acne that covers his ass, but to his and my dismay, it clearly hasn’t been. As he bends over to place a plate of eggplant parmesan on the table, his butt is shoved right in my face.

  “Well that was a mood killer.” I say after he’s left.

  Gavin takes a sip of his beer. “He could market himself as living birth control. There’s no way anyone could spend time looking at that without it killing their libido.”

  “I’d have sympathy for him, but he put those pants on this morning sans belt. My sympathy left with my appetite.”

  To lighten the mood, Gavin tells a story about going to school without a belt when he was twelve and his best friends spending the day “debagging” him. Apparently, they don’t call it “pantsing” in England because pants are underwear. “We call them trousers,” Gavin corrects in a snooty voice.

  Our pizza arrives just as I flip him off. We order another round of drinks and dive into our meal. As we eat, the conversation is easy and filled with embarrassing stories of our youths. I tell him about the pizza-eating contest I won in the fifth grade, beating out the boy I had a crush on. I’d gloated a little too much and later ended up puking all over him. Derek Oarsman had called me Puke for the rest of the time I lived in Ashfield.

  The crisp, cool cider goes down quickly, and before I know it, I’ve had four rounds. At eight percent alcohol, the buzz has hit me hard by the time the server clears our empty plates and returns with our box and the check. With the liquid courage flowing, it seems like the perfect time to have an awkward conversation. “Before we head back, I thought maybe we should
talk about something,” I say trying to mask how uncomfortable I am.

  “You can talk to me about anything.” He looks at me through narrowed eyes. “What’s wrong? You look really nervous. Remember, we’re past inappropriate. All’s fair.”

  I drain the last of my cider. “Sorry, I’m being a tool. I don’t know why this makes me so awkward. The last time I had this conversation, I was eighteen. It didn’t faze me then, but it seems I’m totally tongue-tied now. I don’t know if post-college adults even have this conversation.”

  He covers my hand with his. “Just tell me.”

  My hair is sticking uncomfortably to the back of my neck. I flip it over my shoulder and take a deep breath. “Well, I thought you should know that I know that I’m clean and I’m on the pill. I wasn’t for a long time, but I recently thought it was a good idea to go back on it.”

  “Oh, this conversation,” he laughs. “You’re too funny. In my wilder days, I thought I was invincible. I didn’t get tested as often as I should have. I was tested when I got married and remember thinking how happy I was that I didn’t have to deal with that again. I had a newfound appreciation for monogamy—until Brooke came to me and told me she had caught hepatitis from one of the men she was sleeping with or sharing needles with. She didn’t know which one.”

  I’m not sure if I’m embarrassed for bringing up a painful memory or if I’m freaking out that I may have just contracted an STD. A vice tightens around my lungs, slowly squeezing out the air. My heart starts to pound as I get lightheaded.

  “Lily dear, you look dreadful. Are you feeling okay?”

  “No, Gavin,” I say through gritted teeth. “I’m not okay. You just dropped a bomb like that and actually expect me to be okay?”

  “Jesus, I’m sorry. I’m perfectly clean. Brooke and I hadn’t been together like that for months at that point.”

  Air floods into my lungs, and my heart stops thumping like a rabbit’s. “Oh, thank God.”

  He stands, reaches for me, and then pulls me into a tight embrace. “I’m a cad. I should’ve explained myself better. During the twenty-four hours between when my blood was drawn and the results came in, I was petrified. It gave me a whole new respect for sex. I’m proud of you for bringing it up. Many women wouldn’t have. If it makes you feel better, if you hadn’t, I would have.”