by Miranda Veil
Closing my eyes for just a second, I push the thought from my mind. After all, he’s not the reason I’m here. I’m here to work, give a detailed account of the events to Angela and let her worry about piecing together the mass of information I’ll be sending in. If I have to spend two weeks in a hotel without a good, home-cooked meal, than she’s going to spend a few days shifting through everything I’m sending back to her!
Navigating through the festival, I dance between bodies clad in every imaginable shade and color. Some are dressed like me, models of the semi-professional, and others are a bit more outlandish.
Black business suits and ties mingle with vivid feathered hats. Smart, gray pinstripe skirts dance with radiant corsets with thigh-high buckled boots. And the alcohol overflows from every corner, freely consumed in the streets that burst with the heightened energy of jubilant laughter and excited whispers.
Shifting and sliding through the crowd, I attempt to blend with the local population, swallowing my anxiety from being engulfed by the crowd in such an unfamiliar place. A few trips for less than a few hours to this vibrant city, does not a local, make.
I stop by a stand and grab a drink - a rum and coke - and continue making my way through the crowd, snapping pictures which people all too happily pose for. They express, in their eager words, how wonderful this festival is for the local artistic community.
Jotting down names and quotes, I gather as much information as I can before the sun begins to set. I begin making my staggered way back to the hotel room. Delacroix was nowhere to be found, but the energy from the festival mixing with the alcohol, which danced through my blood stream, had a welcome effect on my body. I feel warm, calm, happy and comfortable in my own skin, which is something that, sadly, isn’t all that common. I feel completely joyous, without a single care slipping through my mind. I’m simply happy to be here, and getting to really learn about the culture of this city, is exciting! I daresay, I almost want to stay, and find myself musing over the thought of buying a place here in the city to experience all the wonderful things it has to offer.
It’s silly. I’m sure it’s just the alcohol.
Slipping past the front desk, I barely catch the elevator, and make my way to my room. Some pizza and a night with my feet up while I listen to the music slip in through the hotel window, seems like the perfect end to a fun filled day.
I let my hair down and kick off my boots, my feet numb from the walk. I’m sure I’ll feel the blisters in the morning.
The festival still pumps through my veins as a knock comes to the door. Raking my fingers through my hair to shake out my curls and massage my scalp, I move to the door. My shirt is unbuttoned to my naval from the heat of the room, and the fire that so often accompanies alcohol, but I refuse to care even if I were walking down the hall completely naked. It wouldn’t be all that much of an anomaly here anyhow, if what I’ve seen on the streets is any indication.
Wrenching the door open, I find the delivery guy, whose eyes are fixed on the crests of my breasts, and the fabric of my laced bra. With a wink and a smirk, I slip him a nice tip, and shut the door quickly, lest my body take over and act upon its heated impulses.
Fantasies flash through my mind of the oh-so-typical delivery guy sex scene, and I briefly entertain the thought of him naked and strapped to my bed.
Tossing the pizza unceremoniously on the table, I pull out my phone and am about to call Riley when another knock taps against the door. Oh how delicious it would be, if it were my little delivery guy.
I opened the door to gold-flecked brown eyes set behind gleaming silver rims, and auburn curls. His eyes quickly move from mine, slipping down my neck and breasts, then back to my eyes.
Shifting uncomfortably under his gaze; I could feel his eyes boring into me with disappointment. Biting my lip and down-casting my eyes, I wave meekly, muttering a soft greeting. This isn’t exactly the state I had wanted him to see me in. I feel like I have some image I should uphold. Some sense of sophistication I wanted to prove to him. I wanted him to look at me and feel respect first, and desire second. To feel as if I were unobtainable and yet, oh-so-desirable. I wanted him to want me the way I want him. To feel that obsession crawl up his spine. That anticipation of waiting for a call or text from me. To feel helpless, the way I’d always felt when it came to him; and all of it was slipping away from me. And suddenly I’m angry that he’s here when I couldn’t find him anywhere at the festival to make our meeting on my terms. I’m upset that he hasn’t contacted me at all, for days. Is this going to be a constant thing with him?
“Is this the way you normally answer the door, Miss Roman?” he sighs, his lips set in a disappointed line.
My lips and tongue refuses to form the syllables required for any kind of coherent sentence, and all I can do is shake my head.
No, it’s not.
I move my hands to my shirt, and begin to button it up, pulling my hair over one shoulder. I can do nothing but stare at the ground, ashamed of how I must look to him.
“Well? It’s rude to leave me standing out here. Are you going to invite me in?”
Nodding, I move aside, waving my arm to welcome him into the room.
As he walks in, I pull a chair for him to sit, and sit in the chair directly across. I rest my elbows on the table between us and lace my fingers, then cradle my chin on them, still uncomfortable with the idea of looking him in the eye. He settles into the chair and props his ankle up on his opposite knee, his hands lacing themselves together in his lap.
“I didn’t know you were staying here until I saw you walk in as I was sitting at the café.”
He points to a small coffee shop opposite of the hotel room. I hadn’t noticed it was there before.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were going to be in town? I feel like we’ve had this conversation, already, and I do hate repeating myself.”
“I sent you a text days ago just to say hi, but you never replied. I didn’t even know you were going to be here until just a few days before I left.”
“You could have contacted me at that point and told me you were coming. You arrived today?”
“Yes.”
“And yet, I’ve no text from you today, or even yesterday, stating your plans to be in the area.”
“When you didn’t respond to my other messages, I figured you’d gotten too busy and I didn’t want to be a bother.”
“When I don’t reply, it doesn’t mean I don’t want to talk to you or don’t want to see what you’ve written or sent to me. I just get wrapped up in other things. I’m disappointed. I expect it won’t happen again.”
“I’m sorry.” I whisper meekly, my eyes tracing the small lines in the table as a way to keep tears from welling in my eyes. Am I that intoxicated that I can’t keep my emotions in check? I feel like a child being chastised by her father for breaking the rules. “I just didn’t want to interrupt anything. I know how busy you can be…and I thought that maybe you’d grown bored with me.”
The chair shuffles, but I don’t bother to look up. I can only assume he’s become so disgusted by talking to me, that he’s decided to leave, and I don’t want my last image of him to be of him walking out the door.
My heart is hammering and I can feel the tears about to break. I close my eyes tight and take a deep breath, remembering how agonizing it could be at times to not receive the smallest response to a message from him. How long could it honestly take to send a simple response?
My thoughts waver, and I grow furious. How dare he make me feel like shit, always hanging on a limb waiting to hear from him, nervously glancing at my phone waiting for the lights to flash for a new message, and yet it never comes. I came here, steeling myself to be the one in control. I came here convincing myself that I’d turn the tables and perhaps, make him want me instead of me sitting around questioning myself, as I feel my confidence dwindle away because of a single man.
Then, the cool touch of his fingers press under my chin as he lifts my fac
e, forcing my eyes into his. He’s moved near me; his body, dangerously close. The electricity from his skin jumps the void between us, sparking against my skin as his pulls me into his arms, and his lips embrace mine. I breathe in deep, taking in his musky scent, as my heart pounds and aches against my rib cage.
He pulls away; his speckled, brown eyes melting my body as he strokes his thumb against my cheek.
“I’m the one who should be apologizing. I told you I’d try to be better with communicating, and I haven’t been doing a very good job. So many different things demand my attention, but you shouldn’t be suffering for it.”
He apologized to me. A real, heartfelt apology. I can see his eyes begging me for forgiveness, and as much as I don’t want to give in, I do.
Standing firm, I grip the front of his shirt and pull him close, kissing him with the full might of every emotion that’s wracked my body since the day I met him. My body is on fire, and every memory of those unanswered texts float away on the waves of music flowing through the city. His arms wrap around me as his hands slip through my hair, tugging lightly; seductively.
Riley was right; I love with this man. Against all rhyme and reason, I am hopelessly in love. Completely, lustfully and overwhelmingly entangled in him. I can’t fathom how this will work, as I feel the need for constant attention. Even if it’s just a small phone call for five minutes, or a text to check up on me. In my twisted and broken mind, I need some kind of reaffirmation that he hasn’t let someone else catch his eye, or that he hasn’t simply grown bored with me. I need to feel like I’m good enough.
And yet when he’s with me, I can’t imagine how I was so foolish as to think something so absurd. He is so…there were no words. He’s wonderful, incredible, eloquent, successful, intoxicating. A testosterone-infused cocktail of romance and seething dominance. Those words alone doesn’t seem to do him justice. He is absolutely beautiful in every way. His eyes, his body, his mind and his words are sweet notes of a symphony that enraptured my heart. They wrapped me in a blanket and whispered promises, reaffirming that he is one of a kind. I’m obsessed; totally and completely. I’m drunk off of his presence and high from his scent; as if everything I built up to protect myself has come crashing to the ground, exposing raw unadulterated passion, desire, and aching, painful love whenever I am close to him.
Our kiss deepens, and my fingers run through his hair; each soft curl giving way beneath my tender touch.
He sighs heatedly, near inaudibly, against my lips and pulls me closer. My hands move down, slowly unbuttoning his shirt. It sags off of his shoulders as he runs his fingers through my curls, and holds my head firm against the kiss. Ripping his shirt off, my hands press desperately against his warm chest and relish in the feel of his soft flesh beneath my fingertips. His hands move down my back then over my chest, unbuttoning my shirt and pulling it down over my shoulders, exposing my bra. His lips move to my neck, kissing the sensitive skin and pulling me firmly against him. His hard, thick erection presses against me, a wave of pleasure crashes through my body in anticipation.
Knowing I can excite him like this heightens my own pleasure all the more, and I’m aching for him. My entire body, now singing with the passion in my heart, as they cry out in unison for him.
Pulling away, a sly smile spreads over his lips as he moves to the window. He tugs the windows open, letting the music waft in on the evening air, and allowing the heat to fill the room. Beckoning me closer, he points out the window.
“Right there. Do you see it?” He whispers, his lips dangerously close to my ear.
My eyes flutter as his words slide through my ears, and I struggle to see what he’s pointing at but I only see the throbbing crowd below.
“The group of people?”
“Mhm.” He whispers as his hands wrap around me from behind, holding me tight as he sways our bodies to the music. “I don’t want you to take your eyes off of them. Watch…knowing at any moment, they could look up and see my hands on your beautiful body.”
His lips move to my neck once more, and kiss along it softly, moving from right below my ear to my shoulder then swapping to the side. His hands move over my breasts and tease over my collar bone. The muscles in my body tense as he does; flashes of pain from so long ago…
I close my eyes tight, strangling the memories, lighting them on fire and watching in pleasure as they burn to ash.
It didn’t happen. Those memories…that life…doesn’t exist and never has.
His hands stop, and he moves them to my hips.
“Is something wrong? Are you all right?”
“…yeah. Just, please don’t touch me there… it makes me uncomfortable…”
“Then let me make up for it.”
He turns me to face him and gazes into my eyes as he runs his fingers through my hair. I have to bite my tongue to keep from my lips from betraying me. Do I love him? I want nothing more than to tell him right here and now. My heart aches, my throat clenches, but I hold it back. His eyes, and his touch, banish the darkness of old, painful memories.
“When all of the festivities are over, and my obligations complete, I’d like you to come stay with me for a few days. If you can. Perhaps a weekend? I would love to spend some more time with you. Uninterrupted, of course.”
“Uninterrupted? That’s hard to pass up.”
I run my fingers along his prominent jaw line, then tilt my face up to meet his, lightly tracing my lips along his. They’re soft and supple, like running my lips over the ripe flesh of freshly opened rose petals. Everything about this man makes me crave more. He’s my drug, my freedom. I want nothing more than to be locked in this moment for eternity.
Smiling, he kisses along my cheek and down my neck as he hooks his thumbs into the waist of my skirt and tugs it down to splash at my feet. He lightly traces his fingertips over the front of my laced panties, then slides his lips down further, lightly licking between my breasts as he leans down and wraps his arms around my waist, lifting me and placing my butt on the windowsill, my body pressing against the transparent glass.
If anyone were to look up, they probably wouldn’t be phased by seeing a naked woman against a window, not like I’d care what they thought at this moment, anyhow. They didn’t exist. It’s just him and I in my world, and at this moment, that’s all I ever want it to be.
Thoughts of Riley, Ethan, Angela; they weren’t there. My home, my car, my money, my past; it didn’t exist. It’s him and I, and I want nothing more than to feel my body meld with him, be a part of him, and float on his ocean until I drown.
He slips his fingers in the band of my panties, wiggling me out of them, and as he pulls them from my feet, he kneels down in front of me and presses his lips against my ankle. He slithers his tongue against my skin, sending shocks through my body strong enough to draw moans from my lips. I’ve never felt something so incredible, nor had I ever thought that my ankles were as sensitive as they were proving to be.
What kind of sex did I have before him? It all seems terribly mundane and boring in comparison, as if I’d never fully experienced it. As if nothing, at all, could ever compare.
Moving to the other ankle, his lips go back to work. My fingers dig into the windowsill as my head tilts back, my eyes fluttering as my moans grow with each touch.
I don’t want him to stop, and as his lips work against my ankles, my muscles clench. My body and mind are wrapped in a fit of ecstasy within seconds, without warning, and as my back arches, I feel that all-too-familiar sensation welling up deep in my body.
“Please, Alex…”
“Come for me, my lovely girl.”
My body rebels against my will, trembling and writhing against the window as my lips moan his name.
He stands, wrapping me up in his arms, and carries me to the bed.
“You’re so erotic, my dear. And so sensitive…”
“Please,” I gasp, burying my face against his shoulder, “I need more. Please.”
He strips the re
st of his clothes, his body glistening in the evening sunlight like a golden statue.
Crawling on me, he gathers my wrists in one hand, and pins my arms above my head. My breasts tremble with each labored breath, my sensitive nipples pressing against his chest as I bend my knees and press my thighs against his hips. He kisses my lips, his tongue hungrily wrapping around my own as he strokes his free hand down my side and grips the small of my back.
Slowly, agonizingly, he slides himself inside of me, and my body screams in delight. Still sensitive from my orgasm mere moments before, my body shudders as wave after wave of pleasure wracks through me.
He begins slow, sliding in and out with calculated movements. Running my hands over his back, I grip tight; my nails bite into his skin, raking against his flesh. He lets out a guttural growl and dives into me, driving hard and deep. My back arches against him as my head presses back into the bed. He’s so deep, shoving every inch into me, and it’s almost too much. It hurts, but oh…it feels so damn good.
“Take me!” I scream as my body trembles, my lips unable to bite back the words any longer.
And he obliges, slamming mercilessly into me, moaning against my neck. His lips vibrate with his primal, carnal groans of pleasure, and the sound of pure sex assaults my ears.
Swiftly, he props himself on his knees, pulling my legs over his shoulders while still buried deep inside of me. Gripping my hips, he pulls out, agonizingly, then thrusts into me in one sift motion, as his lips find my ankles and kiss them lovingly. Every inch pushes and stretches my sensitive sex around him.
He looks down at my body, his eyes hungry, flaming with desire as he presses his hips against me, steadily quickening in response to my lust-filled scream. Gripping the bed, fisting the sheets as he takes me, my nails threatening to rip them to shreds as my body tenses and aches.
“Please…don’t stop…” I beg.
My body writhes, contorting into an image of pure pleasure, as I grip his arms. He increases his pace, sliding effortlessly into me until I’m left trembling beneath his body. My back arches, my eyes fluttering as I scream. Each delectable contraction squeezes him, as I throw myself from the edge of another, earth shattering orgasm.