by Kelly, Hazel
He shakes his head and lifts his hips so he can get into his back pocket. “Put it on and I’ll show you,” he says, holding out a black eye mask made of silk and lace.
I keep my eyes on him as I take a swig of wine before leaning over to set my glass on the coffee table.
He raises the mask and places it gently over my eyes.
“The fantasy requires that I can’t see, huh?”
“The fantasy requires you to rely on your other senses,” he says. “I already know the sight of me makes you hot, but I want a new challenge.”
I smile. “The sight of you does make me hot.”
I hear the leather couch squeak as he rises to his knees and lifts my hand, laying it on the outside of his pants.
“And the sight of you makes me hard,” he says.
Feeling the strain against his pants sends a hot flash across the back of my neck.
“Now,” he says, laying my hand down again and bending over me so his breath is on my ear. “I want you to touch yourself.”
“Where?” I ask, playing along.
“I want you to stick your hand down the front of your pants and drag your fingertips along your wet slit.
I swallow and do as he asks, aroused by the fact that he’s watching me, directing me. “How do you know it’s wet?”
“Because I’m thinking about it,” he says. “You know how people’s ears ring when someone’s talking about them?”
“Yeah.”
“Well your pussy gets wet when I think about it.”
I press my lips together. “What now?” I whisper, keen to keep him talking.
“Lay your fingertips against your warm clit and move them…counterclockwise.”
“That’s what I usually do when I…”
“Shhh.”
My breath grows shallow as I touch myself, and I gush when I hear the sound of his zipper followed by his jeans falling to the floor.
“How does that feel?” he asks, his voice low and steady.
“Good,” I breathe.
“And this?” he raises my free hand and holds it against his swollen cock again. I’ve never noticed how smooth it is, and I can feel it throbbing against my palm. I try to wrap my fingertips around it, but he grabs my wrist and pulls it away. “Someone’s a bit eager.”
My cheeks burn as I think of him standing before me.
“Faster,” he says so seriously I feel like I can hear his jaw clench. “I want you to bring yourself to the brink, but not a step further.”
I’m almost panting now, but I freeze when I feel his dick against my cheek.
“Don’t stop,” he says, dragging it down my jawline so slowly my stomach drops. Then he pulls away again and sits down on the other side of me.
“Touch me,” I say.
He lets out a laugh so light I fear he has no idea how much I’m suffering.
Soon waves of heat begin rising through me, and his hand slides under my loose pink top.
“Faster,” he says, spreading a hand over one of my breasts and squeezing the thin fabric until my nipple strains against it. Then he moves to the other one, letting his thumb trace circles around the part that aches the most.
“I’m close,” I whisper.
He grabs my stirring wrist. “That’s it,” he says. “That’s where the fantasy ends.”
“No, please. It can’t be.” I drop my head against the back of the couch. “I need you to let me come.”
“Sorry, what did you just say?” he asks, licking my silky fingers before sucking them deep into his mouth.
“I want you to fuck me.”
He kisses the inside of my wrist and makes his way up my arm.
“I’m begging you, Owen. Please.”
He curls his fingertips around my pants and pulls them off, taking my soaked underwear with them before sliding between my knees. “Again,” he says, leading my hand between my legs. “Show me how you touch yourself.”
My nerves increase with the knowledge that he’s so close to my most secret place.
“Don’t make me wait,” he says, bumping my shin with his arm just enough to let me know he’s touching himself, too.
The thought of his strong hand around his cock makes my whole body burn, and I do exactly as he’s asked, sliding my fingertips through my silk before massaging my swollen clit.
“How’s that feel?” he asks.
“I wish it were you,” I say. “It would feel even better if it were you.”
“Do you want to make yourself come for me?”
I shake my head and do my best to speak between panting breaths. “I want you to do it. I want to feel you inside me. At least let me taste you.”
But he doesn’t oblige. Instead, he pulls my hips to the edge of the couch and pins my wrists to my sides before laying his tongue against my sensitive skin.
I moan as soon as he makes contact, and I keep it up while he laps at me, scooping me out with his tongue.
All I can hear is the sounds of him eating me and the stuttered gasps of my own breath. When my body tries to writhe, I realize I can’t move. His arms are holding my knees in place and his hands restrain my wrists. All I can do is make tight little fists and roll my head from side to side as he flicks warm light up through my body with his tongue.
“Owen,” I whisper, grateful to finally have his name on my lips. And he seems grateful, too, speeding up when he hears it. “You’re going to make me come.”
He lets go of one of my hands and slides three fingers inside me, stretching me wide open as he keeps his tongue circling my swollen bud.
I grab his hair with my free hand, pulling it too hard like he’s an animal I’m determined to control. But it’s no use. He keeps the pressure on.
“I need you inside me,” I finally beg into the dark. “Please just fuck me already.”
He slips his fingers from me and slurps my silk one last time. Then he grabs my thighs and drags me to the side so I’m lengthways on the couch. A moment later, I feel him crawl over me as he slides my shirt up and gropes my breasts, the weight of his shaft heavy between my legs.
I arch my back when he reaches around to unhook my bra and raise my hands over my head as he forces it up, relishing the feel of his eyes on my breasts.
“Are you sure you want me to fuck you?” he whispers against my thirsty mouth. “Because the last thing I want to do is cloud your judgement.”
I lean up enough to close the gap between our lips, tasting myself as I kiss him. “I’m sure,” I say, lowering my head again.
He slides the mask off my face and looks at me, and I’m surprised by the flash of tenderness I see behind his hunger. “You can watch this next part,” he says, kissing me one last time before righting himself between my legs.
His cock is so hard it’s almost purple, and my pussy clenches at the sight of it.
Owen lifts my hips and slides a pillow under my lower back, leaving me as exposed as I am excited. Then he rests my straight legs against his muscular chest and presses the tip of his head against my slit.
I take a deep breath to prepare myself, but as soon as he sinks inside me, it’s gone again, and I’m left breathless but full of him.
The first few thrusts are slow—just enough to coat his dick—but then he speeds up, letting his head fall back as he pounds me exactly the way I’ve been craving.
“Yes,” I cry, furrowing my brow as the deep pleasure overwhelms me. My eyelids flutter as I try to keep watching, but they grow heavy as the heat builds in my core.
And then he touches my clit again, and I’m instantly brought to the edge.
“Come with me,” he growls, slamming his hips against my ass so hard the impact travels all the way to my bouncing breasts.
My lips fall apart, but no words come out, and my body curls towards him a moment later, just as he’s emptying himself inside me, his eyes fixed on my face as he fills me with everything he has.
As soon as I fall back, a smile spreads across my face, an
d he yanks the pillow from beneath me and collapses forwards, his warm chest crushing mine into the couch.
He throbs inside me while I blink, trying to get the stars at the edge of my vision to disappear. “Thanks,” I say. “I needed that.”
He lifts his head. “You needed that? My balls have ached for weeks.”
“I won’t hold out on you again,” I say. “I just had to be sure—”
“That I was really crazy about you?”
I nod. “And that the feeling was mutual, of course.”
“And?” he asks, his eyes admiring my face in a way I know I could never tire of.
“I think I’m falling in love with you.”
“Holy shit, really?”
My face drops. “Yeah, why?”
“Because that makes me the luckiest guy on Earth.”
My heart skips a beat.
“Especially because I’m falling for you, too.”
“Yeah?”
He nods. “I’m probably further along than that, to be honest, but I don’t want to make it official until I see how things go with you and Madame Wu.”
I laugh. “Oh, right. The other woman. No pressure.”
He sits up and pulls out of me before grabbing a soft fleece blanket from under the coffee table and draping it over me.
“We should probably go ahead and order,” I say. “Now that we’ve built up an appetite.”
“I already did,” he says. “And before you object to my ordering for you, I couldn’t risk letting you choose the wrong thing since Madame Wu is a big part of my life.”
“Because you’re a workaholic?”
“Yes,” he says. “But also because a man like me requires a lot of beef.”
“Good to know.”
His shirt is halfway on when the doorbell rings. “Shit,” he says, pulling his pants on as he hops towards the door.
I snuggle deeper into the cream-colored blanket, feeling silly about how eager I am for his return.
“I hope you like fried rice,” he says, coming around the corner with two plates in one hand and a white takeout bag in the other. “I just can’t bring myself to pay for steamed.”
“I prefer fried.”
“Excellent,” he says, sitting down beside me. He tops up our wine before pulling two fortune cookies out of the bag and tossing one to me.
“Do you always eat the cookie first?”
He nods. “We have to eat through the cookies to get to the main dishes. At least, that’s how they pack the bag, and who are we to argue with Madame Wu?”
I smile. “Okay. You first.”
He tears the plastic open, cracks the cookie in half, and slides the fortune out.
“Well?” I ask. “What does it say?”
“It says, ‘A heart that loves is always young.’”
“That’s nice.”
“Gospel,” he says, shaking it in the air. “Your turn.”
I bite my lip and open the package. I can feel Owen’s eyes on me as I crack the cookie in half and remove the fortune.
“Well?”
“I can’t believe it.” I lift my eyes to his. “This is the best fortune I’ve ever gotten.”
“What does it say?”
“It says, ‘You will live happily ever after.’”
“Wow,” he says. “That is a good one.”
“Do you think this means that Madame Wu approves?” I ask, raising my eyebrows.
He scoots closer and pushes some hair out of my face. “I don’t pretend to know what Madame Wu thinks,” he says. “All I know is that the fortunes are always right.”
I glance back down at the fortune and then up into his handsome face. “So you think I’m really going to live happily ever after?”
“Of course I do,” he says, his eyes smiling. “Especially if I have anything to say about it.”
E P I L O G U E
“I think it’s safe to say the evening was a success,” I say, dropping my purse in Owen’s entryway and stumbling as I take off my strappy sandals.
He tosses his keys on the table and follows me inside. “Were you worried it might not be?”
“No, but it’s always nerve-wracking introducing someone to my parents,” I say, collapsing on the couch. “Will you grab me one?” I ask when I hear him sliding a beer from the fridge.
“I think you’ve had plenty,” he says, coming around the corner with a beer in each hand.
“Thanks,” I say, watching him place them on two coasters.
He leans back on the couch and lets out a hard-earned sigh.
“I especially liked when you told my dad we met through work.”
“What should I have said?” he asks.
“Nothing. That was perfect. I was just laughing to myself since it’s, like, the opposite of what happened.”
“We officially met through work,” he says.
“I suppose that’s true.”
He grabs his beer off the table and pulls my feet across his lap. “I was sort of inspired by the fact that your folks seem to be as committed to each other as they are to their careers.”
I nod. “They are pretty remarkable. They’ve been together almost twenty-five years.”
He starts rubbing my feet, pressing his thumbs under the arch of my foot. “Quite an achievement.”
“Right? Though my dad seems more proud of the new shed he built than anything.”
“To be honest, I thought your mom seemed more delighted about the project than he was.”
“The whole thing was probably her idea,” I say. “She’s always plotting ways to trick him into relaxing.”
“I see.”
“Speaking of relaxing,” I say, laying the side of my face against the couch. “If you keep giving me these nice foot rubs, you’ll never get rid of me.”
“That’s the plan,” he says. “Though the foot rub is as much for me as it is for you.”
I raise my eyebrows.
“Last time you wore those shoes you were dying the next day.”
“Was I?”
He nods.
“You notice what shoes I wear?”
“Of course,” he says. “Can’t risk you going off looking for someone that can admire you better than I can.”
“I wouldn’t do that.”
“I know you wouldn’t. Because I’m doing my job.”
“No,” I say. “Because I love you.”
He smiles and keeps kneading my feet with care. “I’m still going to keep following my grandfather’s advice, if that’s all right with you.”
“What advice?”
“He told me the secret to a happy relationship is to make sure your wife never feels taken for granted, and the easiest way to make sure she doesn’t is to notice her.”
“Surely that’s true for anyone, though. No one likes to feel invisible.”
“Perhaps,” he says, his eyes springing into crescents.
“What?”
“I remember he used to ask my grandmother if she’d been to the beauty parlor.”
“The beauty parlor?”
He shrugs. “It was a different time.”
“Right.”
“Anyway, she’d usually say no, but he’d always follow the question up by acting surprised and admitting that he thought she looked particularly radiant.”
I narrow my eyes at him.
“Those were the exact words he’d use—particularly radiant.”
“That’s sweet.”
“She would glow for the rest of the day. Every time,” he says. “And it never cost him a penny to make her feel like that.”
“He sounds like a true gentleman.”
“He was.” Owen tilts his head towards me. “He would’ve absolutely adored you, by the way.”
“I hope so.”
“My point is, every now and then I think the secret to a lifetime of happiness with you might be throwing away all your insufferable shoes.”
My eyes grow wide.
“And then I remember his advice and think better of it.”
“I’m glad to hear you value your life.”
He laughs. “I just hope if we ever get married, you’ll wear your sneakers, so we can forgo the wedding night foot rubs for more interesting activities.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Speaking of which, would you be a big wedding kind of girl or—”
I shake my head. “Absolutely not. Just take me to the courthouse and then get me the hell out of town.”
“The courthouse?”
“Why not?” I ask. “It’s sort of the closest thing either of us has to a place of worship anyway.”
“I suppose that’s a reasonable argument.”
I point at him. “The only kind I make, thank you very much.”
“What are you doing next weekend?”
I take a deep breath and raise my eyes to the ceiling. “Ruby and I are getting our nails done Saturday morning, but that’s all I have planned at the minute.”
“Perfect,” he says. “How about afterwards, we swing by the courthouse and do the damn thing.”
“Wait—really?”
“Why not?” he asks. “Waking up beside you is the best part of my day.”
I press my lips together.
“Besides, the sooner we do it once, the sooner we can do it again.”
“What do you mean do it again?”
“Well, the world record is around a hundred times,” he says. “I say we go for it.”
“And what? Just renew our vows every time we go out of town?”
“Yeah,” he says, completely unfazed. “I mean, we’re both chronic overachievers. We can’t just settle for one ceremony, can we?”
I pull my feet up and tuck them under me. “You’re serious.”
“Cassie,” he says, fixing his eyes on me. “Marriage is not the kind of thing I joke about.”
I slide my palm over my head. “Can I be honest with you?”
“Of course.”
“I’m still coming to terms with the first proposal. And you’re already saying you want to marry me 101 times?”
He furrows his brow. “You think we should aim higher?”
“I think you’re crazy.”
“Crazy about you,” he says, putting his arm around me and pulling me close. “So? What do you say?”