by Dee Palmer
Please be there.
Sharply swinging the car into the drive, I forget this isn’t my standard four-wheel drive, and I skid wide across the gravel, spinning in a semicircle of dust and dirt. I lock the wheel, gripping tight as the car pitches and troughs over the rough verge until I can steer it back onto the road. My bones creak with the jolts and bumps, yet I don’t feel anything. I’m numb.
The double edge of the sword pierces my skin, poised over the center of my chest the closer I get. If I’m too late, I know I’ll die inside tonight, and if I’m not, I’ll live and spend the rest of my life in hell knowing what I can’t ever have again
His truck is there, and my heart is hammering so hard, my chest feels bruised and battered. Exhaling a large breath filled with relief, nerves rush to fill that void. He’s there. I pull to park next to his truck, and my fingers tremble as I pull the handle and open the door. He’s loading a bale of straw into a caged livestock trailer hitched to the rear of his truck.
He hasn’t looked my way, and I have to block him before he walks back into the cabin. His eyes drop to the hand I have pressed on his chest, and he takes it and pushes it away from his body like it’s burned him. The scowl he levels on me could freeze the blood racing in my veins.
“What are you doing?” This isn’t how I envisioned this going. I’m not sure how I pictured it really. I just wanted to get here and thought that would be enough, that it would somehow make everything all right. I’m an idiot. It’s so far from being all right. I can see that in the fury of his stare and the devastation he holds deep in his eyes. I did that.
“What does it look like?” His jaw clenches, ticking with pent up anger.
“You can’t take care of a deer.” My hands fly to my hips, and he snorts, raises a sardonic brow, and steps around me.
“That’s where you’re wrong.” Hostility and rage clip every word. I reel from the impact.
I spin on my heel to follow him. He walks around the back of the cabin to where Daisy is grazing in the small pen he made for her. When he is close to the fence, she walks over to him and nuzzles against his hand. He faces me, and my heart swells. This is what it’s supposed to feel like when you look at someone you…love.
“She’s mine and I won’t let her down. You’re not the only one with a sense of responsibility.” His voice is all at once tender, broken.
I can’t stop myself and rush to him. “You don’t have to do this.” I’m at his back, my hands on the tops of his arms, my head pressed to his back. He drops his voice, a low rumble I can feel against my cheek.
“And neither do you. This isn’t the eighteenth century where women are chattel. You have a choice, Buttercup, and you chose this path.”
“I know.” My words choke in my throat, tears prickle behind my lids. “My grampa raised me. He sacrificed so much, and he loves that place. He’d die if the bank foreclosed, and I’m sorry, Pink, I couldn’t live with myself, causing someone I love so much pain.”
“You’re causing me pain.” He turns to face me, and as much as it’s killing me to see him like this, I take comfort that his hands are on my hips and he isn’t pushing me away.
“That’s not fair.”
“And this is? You got to tell me how you felt in that damn letter, but I never got the chance, did I?” He drops his head back, exasperated, exhausted. I know because I feel the same.
I look at him as he looks at the stars. “How do you feel?”
“It doesn’t matter now, does it? You’re still getting married I take it?” He fixes an icy glare, but his tone has lost all its fury. It’s a statement, and I respond just as flatly.
“Yes.”
“Then why the fuck are you here?” He snatches his hand away, shakes his head, and tries to walk off. I’m quick to capture his hand, and it takes very little effort to hold him in place.
“I needed to…” Falling silent, my mind wrestles with the right words to say. My hesitation is in how to phrase what I want, and what I need.
“To what, Buttercup? You needed to what? We’re not friends, Buttercup, and we’re not lovers, and you’ll never be my wife. You’ve made your bed and you don’t want me in it.”
“That’s where you’re wrong.” My hand cups his face, my words sound like a plea, or maybe they’re a prayer.
“What? The wedding is tomorrow.” He narrows his eyes, heat radiates off his body, and I can feel mine reacting as every single hair on my body tingles to life.
“Yes.” I hold his gaze, my intention loud and clear.
“And you want to cheat with me?”
“If I loved him, if I was torn between the two of you and this was a purely selfish thing, if I wanted to marry him, if he wanted me for any other reason than as a prize, if he really loved me, if I truly believed he was going to try and be a good husband, if I wasn’t completely trapped into a situation I can’t escape, then I might consider what I’m proposing cheating. Do you really think I would be here if any one of those things was true? Do you really think I’m a cheat?” I drop my chin with a rush of shame.
“No, of course not.” His tips my face up with the lightest touch of his finger, and a soft understanding smile quells my rising anxiety, dulls the doubts nipping at my conscience.
“I want to make love with someone I actually love.” Sucking back the wobble in my voice, I draw on the strength to finish asking. “I never knew there was a difference until I met you. I know I’m being selfish, and I’m not proud, but if I don’t ask for this, I’ll regret it for the rest of my life.
“For one night I want to be truly happy in the arms of the man I love, to make love, just once. I know I have no right to ask. And Pink, I’m not asking; I’m begging. “
“It’s too much, Buttercup. One night and what? I’m supposed to walk away? I’m supposed to forget?”
“I hope you’ll never forget.”
“You’re asking too much.” He steps back. His fingers look like they are trembling. He drags his hands over his head and rests them clasped around the back of his neck. I feel like I’m losing him.
“Do you love me?”
“You know I do. This is fucking killing me.” He howls. I jump and Daisy scrambles with the shock, racing to the far side of the pen. He paces back and forth, and I step in his path, take his hands in mine and relish the instant calm that washes over him.
“I know, and if you really love me, you’ll give me this.”
“You’re a virgin, Buttercup. This is wrong.” He tilts his head, and I can hear the resolution slipping from his voice.
“Everything about this is wrong, everything except the way I feel about you. Please Pink.” Tears trickle from the corner of my eyes. “Make love to me so I know what it’s like to feel truly loved. I can live my life knowing I had this moment, knowing I had you.”
“But how will I be able to live mine?” His large hand cups my face, and he closes the distance so his lips almost brush mine, I feel the heat sizzle, he’s so very close.
“Please,” I whisper.
“Fuck!” His lips crash to mine. Scorching heat melds us together, and I barely feel him scoop me into his arms I’m do dazed. He kicks the cabin door open and strides into the bedroom.
HE LETS MY FEET DROP to the floor only to lift me high so I can wrap my legs around his waist. My dress hitches and he slams us against the closed door. His large hands squeeze my bottom and he grinds against me, or maybe that’s me. I feel a wanton wildness ignite deep inside, and with his encouraging moans and searing passionate kisses, I’m inclined to let it consume me.
“You taste like heaven.” He chases his words into my mouth with his tongue, twisting and tangling with mine. I can’t breathe, and I can’t get enough either. I’m on fire. My hands move from grappling with his too short hair to his muscular shoulders and greedily pick their way to the bottom of his t-shirt. I need to feel his skin. I balance on his hips when he leans back and helps to remove his shirt. He starts to open the small buttons do
wn the front of my dress. Why did I wear this, and why are there hundreds of buttons all of a sudden?
“Put me down, I’ll pull it off; it will be quicker.”
“I’m in no hurry, princess. A gift like this deserves to be unwrapped with extreme care.”
“You might not be in a hurry, but I’ve waited my lifetime for this.”
“Me too, princess, me too.” He lowers me to the floor and continues to slowly open the front of my dress until it slides, with a little help, from my shoulders. Like liquid, it pools on the floor. My skin feels like it’s on fire, yet gooseflesh erupts where his fingers skim as he traces, touches, and caresses every inch of my body.
He slides his hands up and cups my aching breasts over my bra, pinching and rolling the hard nubs between his thumbs and forefingers just to the point of sweet agony. Instant sparks shoot straight to my core, and I start to draw rapid breaths, trying to keep up with my pounding heart.
“You’re so fucking beautiful, Buttercup. Do you have any idea what you’re doing to me?” He mumbles into my neck as he drags his teeth along my skin, leaving a searing mark in their wake. He again scoops me up in his arms, strides toward the bed, and carefully lays me down. He frowns, and it looks like he has changed his mind.
“Please don’t overthink this, Pink, it’s just me and you.”
“I know.”
“Then why do you look so worried? I’m pretty sure it’s me that should be worried. Unless it’s your first time too?”
“Kinda feels like it, princess, but no, I’m not overthinking. I’m just standard thinking. Although looking at you like this I can promise you one thing.”
“What?”
“It’s not going to be just once.” His smile is stunning, sexy and sinful, all mixed in with one curl of his perfect lips. His eyes sparkle with lust and desire. “I’m going to worship you all night, starting right here.”
He kneels on the bed and takes my feet in his lap.
“With my feet?”
“Feet are very sensitive, with pressure points that are connected to sensual receptors all over your body. I want to make sure you are completely relaxed, turned on, and ready.” He starts to massage and stroke.
“I’m so ready.”
He chuckles and presses the tempting slow roll of my hips flat to the bed.
“It’s important, Buttercup, if this is all we have, it’s going to be perfect.” He pinches his eyes tight, and pain flashes across his face. I feel it in my soul. I am asking too much. When he opens his eyes, he exhales all the tension from his body and smiles. He continues working his hands on me, varying the pressure as he makes his way up my legs, using his thumb to draw out long strokes, easing tension from my muscles. I close my eyes and release a heavenly sigh.
He lets out a light laugh, but continues his ministration up my legs. He has to kneel up, and his muscular thighs flex as they encase mine, trapping me.
This is the type of being trapped I could happily live with for the rest of my life.
He lightly traces his fingers along the outline of my panties then moves on to my abdomen. He slides his hands and grips my waist as he bends over and kisses a path from my belly button to the top of my panties where he releases a burst of warm breath. Kissing a trail all the way up to my throat, he avoids my aching, heavy breasts. I can’t breathe. My fingers twitch, and I run my hand over his head, wishing he hadn’t cut his hair so short. I want to grab it and pull his face to my mouth. He looks up to my eyes, which are now open. “I’m taking my time for a reason, princess. Patience,” he soothes. His calm tone leaves no chance of misunderstanding his meaning, and I lay my head back flat against the bed with a resigned huff. I’m going to combust.
He swoops back to my neck and sucks, pulling my tender skin into his mouth, releasing a scorching heat deep inside. He hovers above me, holding his weight from my body.
“Can you turn over, Buttercup? I’d like to work on your back, but I can’t promise I’ll be quite so restrained when I reach that ass of yours.” I wiggle and flip onto my front, sad that I can’t kiss his lips from here. He unclips my bra and shuffles down, then starts to pull my panties down.
“Patience,” he whispers in my ear and traces his tongue around the shell, nibbling on my lobe. I tremble and whimper into the pillow. His deep rumble vibrates his chest and sends waves of shivers across my body. Strong fingers press with perfect pressure in long sensual strokes the length of my back, sweeping and squeezing any fragment of tension from my body. He does this several times, each time inching closer to the very bottom of my spine until I finally feel his hand fully on my bottom. I can hear him draw in a long, slow breath and I find myself mirroring him, although I hold my breath when his fingers slide between the cheeks, over my tight entrance, and deliberately along my wetness.
He eases one finger deep inside. My hips buck instantly, and my core contracts greedily, grabbing at his fingers, which he pumps into me gently with a steady rhythm. He presses another finger smoothly around my clit, and I’m instantly clawing at the sheets, panting and panicked at the speed he’s bringing me to climax.
“Oh, oh oh oooooh!” I explode, and tiny sparks of light flash behind my tightly shut eyelids. He barely pauses long enough for me to release the breath I was holding when he resumes, pushing me on and on. Two fingers slip inside me before my body has even stopped pulsing, and he continues to pump and rub, building the pressure once more. This time I scream a garbled mix of sounds, ecstasy and euphoria, shock and wonder. I yell loudly into the pillow, which I have grabbed and pulled tight against my face. It muffles the sound, but also prevents me from taking in any oxygen, and I turn my head and gasp. I’m seeing spots before my eyes as he takes my hips and flips me over. I must look a little dazed.
“You need to breathe, princess.” He has an undeniably cocky grin fixed on his face, which if I could focus properly, would no doubt look both sexy and smug. “Don’t pass out! You know I’m not finished.” He sinks his teeth into my neck again, drawing an agonizing moan of pleasure from me, and I wrap my arms around his back and feel his strong muscles move and flex. He covers my mouth with his and swipes his tongue, forcing my lips apart, tasting and taking everything I return. He breaks the contact and hovers above me. I clench my tummy to raise myself to meet him, to reach his soft mouth. He smiles, and I lunge again, but his reflex is too quick, and I am left wanting, needing to feel his delicious kiss again. “You like kissing?” In lieu of answering the dumbest question in the history of questions, I try and pull him down and show him. However, he’s solid muscle and I don’t stand a chance. He barely moves an inch with my whole body weight practically hanging off his neck. I release my hold and huff out a puff of frustration.
“Oh, poor baby. Want me to kiss it better?” He teases.
“Please. Oh my, yes, please, please, I want that.” I pant shamelessly. He widens his smile. He is unbearably handsome.
“Well, since you asked so very nicely.” He drops his scorching kisses along my collarbone and skims down to my breast. He palms one and suckles my nipple on the other. He swirls his tongue, flicking the sensitive end before he repeats this with my other breast. He then nibbles and sucks his way down. My breath hitches, the anticipation unbearable. He sits back and, with his strong hand, pushes my legs wide. I am completely open for him, and his gaze is on fire. “You’re so beautiful. I have to taste you.” He swipes his tongue the full length of my core and laps my clit. I instantly tense with the familiar feelings of an imminent climax.
“Oh, lord, Pink… Ahhhh!”
“Lord Pink, I quite like that.” His momentary break to speak and chuckle at my comment isn’t nearly long enough to quell the sensations surging once more. That was shockingly quick, intense, and not over as he continues to swirl and suck. He dips his tongue inside, and I grab his head with both hands. My hips are shaking, and I am desperate to get more air. I’m panting. With that, he fixes his mouth over my clit and sucks. “Ahhh!” I scream again, and my thi
ghs grip his head, trying to stop the overload of pleasure his talented mouth is bombarding me with. I fall limp, still trembling. He sits up, and it’s only then I realize he is still half dressed, and I am naked, sated, and limp. He crawls up my body and lies beside me, pulling me into the perfect spoon.
“Um, Pink, is something wrong?” Twisting in his arms, he bites down on a soft smile.
“I don’t have any condoms, Buttercup. I think it’s best we stop now.”
“No, no, we can’t stop, please!” I sit bolt upright, my eyes instantly filling with tears. I may not be at my most stable, but to be this close to heaven and be denied entrance when I’m literally in his arms feels so cruel.
“Buttercup, listen to yourself. I love you, and I would never forgive myself if you got pregnant, and it would kill me to not be with you, raising our child. Don’t ask me to do that.”
“No, of course, I wouldn’t ask you to do that. It’s just…” I burst out crying, falling against him. His naked chest, warm and smooth, absorbs my silent sobs. I stop and leap from his arms and the bed like I’ve had a thousand volts shot through me.
“Buttercup?” Pink calls out after me. I grab his jacket from the hook next to the front door and rush out to my car. I open the trunk and scrabble in the mess of party bags from the bachelorette party that never really happened. I picked them up the other day and had forgotten to drop them in the trash. It’s a toss-up that she would put something as tacky as condoms in the gift bags, but there is penis-shaped pasta, a candy G-string, and a blow job kit with a plastic apron and rubber gloves, so I’m optimistic. There’s chocolate, small bottles of champagne, a lace garter and—bam!—a packet of three condoms. I rummage in another bag and it’s the same so I take those as well and another.
Breathless and more than a little pleased, I rush back to the bedroom just as Pink is about to put his t-shirt back on.
“Whoa there, mister.” I drop the packets on the bed, triumph plastering the smile wide across my face. He rubs his jaw, a grin visible behind his hand.