We were fighting over who was going to pay the check when my phone buzzed with a new message. I didn’t check to see who it was from before I started reading it.
I’m sorry. I should be more careful of what restaurants I pick.
There was an almost a snarky tone to the text, which was at odds with the way he’d acted only moments before. This guy gave me serious whiplash.
I was also still incredibly pissed at him, and mad at myself for not being more pissed to his face. What I should have done was gotten up and made some speech about how he didn’t know a good thing when he had it, making him realize what an asshole he’d been. And then stormed out in a blaze of glory, Chloe right behind me. But I was me, and I didn’t have the foresight to actually plan that out. Hell, I didn’t think I was going to see him again less than twenty-four hours later.
“That’s from him, isn’t it?” Chloe said, snatching my phone away from me. Her eyes read the message as I tried to get the phone away from her, but she leaned back and I had short arms. She typed something on the phone and then handed it back to me.
“What did you do?” She just cackled as I read how she’d responded to Fin as me.
You should be more careful of not being a dickhead. YOU SUCK, ASSHOLE.
“Really, Chlo? REALLY? I mean, how old are you?” She just shrugged and looked completely unapologetic as usual when she did something she thought was for my own good. The only problem was that it got me into some sticky situations she left me to get out of on my own. That was always the not so fun part.
Fin texted back immediately.
I should. I’m sorry. So sorry. I’ll be gone soon and you’ll never have to see me again.
I didn’t want him to be sorry. I wanted him to go back to being the guy who’d rented out an entire Duck Boat for me. I wanted him to go back to being the guy who respected my wish to not be kissed. Who respected me, period.
I’m done.
That was the only thing I could think of to send to him. I didn’t want to see his response, so I turned off my phone and put it back in my purse where Chloe couldn’t get a hold of it. Or at least where it would be more difficult for her to do so.
I tried to finish my food, but I didn’t get very far. My appetite had deserted me as quickly as Fin had last night. And the time before that.
Yeah, I was SO done.
They say that the mourning period for a relationship is half the time you were together. And since Fin and I weren’t technically together, the period should have been even less. We’d only “gone out” for five days. I shouldn’t have spent the rest of the week miserable and mopey.
I should have been relieved that I didn’t have to deal with him anymore, relieved that I’d seen his true colors early and hadn’t gotten my heart and feelings entangled.
But I didn’t feel like I had been entanglement free. I was mourning for something. Something that could have been.
Chloe thought I was nuts and told me to snap out of it. Lot of good that did. It only made me mad and frustrated. Or more mad and frustrated.
So I did what any girl would do when faced with a failed relationship. I went shopping, ate a lot of cake, and watched too many movies with happy endings.
I also threw myself back into school and charity event planning, which had always been my safe haven. This time, though, my mind wanted to drift, to wander back to a set of blue eyes and wavy dark hair and an infectious smile.
As I’d said, if he weren’t so good-looking, things might have been a lot easier.
I had a really bad moment on Friday, after I’d gotten home from classes, when I went to find a stapler in my junk drawer in the kitchen. Perched right on top was that fucking duck with the fucking purple flowers on it. I yanked it out of the drawer and threw it across the room, which accomplished nothing, and didn’t make me feel any better.
I sighed and went to pick up the duck, and noticed something on the underside. It was my initials, Fin’s initials, and the date. A keepsake.
That only made me hate it more and want to set it on fire. Were rubber ducks flammable? It probably wasn’t advisable to try to incinerate it in my apartment, so I just stood there and tried to decide what to do with it as the duck’s painted face mocked me.
I had to get out of my apartment. I stripped out of my grad school attire (I knew it wasn’t a requirement to dress up, but it made a good impression) and put on jeans and a tank, pulling my hair into a low pony. It was going to be one of those sultry summer nights when the city seemed to trap heat, making everything feel steamy and moist.
Ew. Moist. I hated that word.
My usual my-life-sucks-right-now activity was wandering through the park with some stale bread and feeding the ducks. Now, thanks to Fin, ducks were tainted.
No. I would not let him tarnish my favorite thing to do when I was feeling bad about myself.
So I took my butt to the nearest bodega and got a loaf of cheap bread and a bottle of Coke, and then walked toward the Charles River. Despite it being early evening, the sun was still high in the sky and the city didn’t look like it was slowing down anytime soon. Kids ran and chased each other as their frazzled parents tried to rein them in. A few brave (or insane) joggers went by, sweat darkening their shirts. I found a spot on a bench near the water and started scanning for ducks.
It was peaceful. Or at least as peaceful as Boston ever was. A fire truck with sirens blaring raced through the street behind me and a homeless man yelled about the end of the world to passersby.
As I watched the water undulate, I rolled up little balls of bread and piled them next to me. There were plenty of pigeons around, but they got more than their fair share of food, and don’t even get me started on the squirrels.
Finally, after much waiting, a little family of ducks floated close enough to me that I could chuck the little bread balls in their direction. They seemed scared and confused at first, as if I was assaulting them, but when they realized the little balls were edible, they started going after them.
I laughed and they made happy little duck noises and all was right with the world.
Then a jogger went by me, and for a split second I thought it was Fin, but then realized I was staring at a stranger and it wasn’t Fin.
Still, that didn’t stop my heart from seizing and for panic to ooze down my spine. I wished the mere thought of seeing him again didn’t tie me up in knots. I should be over him by now. Hell, I should have been over him several days ago. And seeing him with that mysterious girl should have put the nail in the coffin that housed our expired relationship.
Maybe . . . maybe it was because we hadn’t, ah, completed our . . . what should we call that? A liaison? Whatever it was, we hadn’t finished it. Maybe the only way to get over Fin was to get under him again, to finish what we’d started so he wasn’t still a sexy mystery.
I knew how crazy it sounded, but deep down, it felt totally rational. The only way to move on from Fin was to get him completely out of my system.
“Fuck it,” I said under my breath as I pulled out my phone and typed a quick message, hitting send before I could change my mind.
Come to my place. One hour. The door will be unlocked.
I shut my phone off because I didn’t want to see what he would respond to that. It was up to him now. If he showed up, then we could do this and get it over with. If he didn’t, then maybe I would finally realize that this wasn’t something worth pursuing. I could be officially done. With a capitol D.
As I walked back to my apartment, I wanted so much to take back the text. I didn’t want to be the kind of woman who let a man back into her life over and over when he treated her like crap. If this was happening to one of my friends, I’d tell her to forget about him.
I sure as hell wasn’t going to tell Chloe about any of this until after the fact. She’d probably do something like come over, duct tape me to a chair, and talk some sense into me. I didn’t want sense. Nothing about Fin made sense, and nothing about how I
still wanted to see him made sense.
I was in new territory and I didn’t have a map.
This time I didn’t bother cleaning much, but I spent time picking out my outfit, donning the underwear that Sloane had given me before that night at the bar. I should have seen the red flags that signaled I was being set up when she’d practically shoved my boobs into the bra, but I’d thought she was just really excited about her new lingerie line.
The bra and panties were pink and lacy with little white accents. Sexy and sweet at the same time, which apparently was what I was supposed to be. I didn’t feel sexy as I donned a slinky white robe. I felt nervous and stomach-flippy and stupid. And very much like I was in over my head and I had no idea what I was doing, and GOD was it hot in here?
To stop myself from a full-on panic, I turned the air conditioning on and walked around the room, breathing deeply. The hour was almost up, so it would be the moment of truth. Would he come or would he abandon me again?
I tried out different poses on the bed, trying to figure the best one for when he would arrive. I settled for lying back against the pillows because it was the most comfortable, and I didn’t feel as exposed.
I crossed the robe over myself and waited.
And waited.
And waited.
The next thing I knew, there was a crash and someone was cursing under their breath.
My eyes flew open and I sat up so fast, I threw myself over the side of the bed and onto the floor.
“Are you okay?” Fin rushed to help me. I held both hands up to stop him. This could not be happening. I used the bed to pull myself upright as my head spun a little bit. Fin reached out to steady me.
“You’re here,” I said, stating the obvious. “You came.” And I fell asleep. Unbelievable.
“I’m here. And I stubbed my toe on your dresser.” So that was what the cursing was about.
“Were you trying to sneak out?” He let go of me and took a step back. I crossed the robe over my front. Compared to him, I was pretty much naked. He had a t-shirt and jeans on with his well-worn boots. Of course he made the simple outfit look amazing.
“No. I was . . . I don’t know what I was. I saw you asleep and you looked so peaceful that I didn’t want to disturb you, and I was also second-guessing the intelligence of actually coming here. You didn’t answer my text.”
I sat down next to him, but with two feet of space between us. Neither of us looked at the other. “I shut my phone off after I sent you the message because I was afraid I was going to get scared and back out.”
He was watching my face, and I hoped my makeup wasn’t smeared from my impromptu nap. My hair was definitely a mess now. I ran my fingers through it and waited for him to say something.
“Why did you send me that message? I thought you were done with me.”
I sighed and tried to put into words how I was feeling. “I was. I want to be done with you. But we never . . . finished the other night, and it’s like . . . I can’t let go of it. I can’t move on.”
I cringed at how bad the words sounded out loud. Even worse than they had in my head.
“I can’t stop thinking about you, either. You’ve been in my head the whole time. Driving me crazy.” He brushed some of my hair over my shoulder, which made me look in his direction.
Big mistake.
His eyes were that dark color again, clouded by desire. This was why I wasn’t done with him. Because he looked at me like no one else ever had. I just wanted him to look at me like that forever.
But that look came at a price, and I didn’t know if I could pay it.
“I should let you go, but I don’t want to. I like getting what I want,” he said.
“But you had me. I was naked and ready for you, and then you left. You left me.” I wanted my words to come out with more force. I wanted to yell, to hit him. To make him feel the way I’d felt when I’d been stripped on the couch after he’d gone.
Instead I whispered the words, but I could feel him shift beside me.
“I know. I left you because I looked at you and realized that I couldn’t be that way with you. You were humoring me, and I was pushing you to do something you didn’t want. That was wrong. I would never want to force you into anything.”
Was he crazy?
“What gave you the impression I wasn’t into it? The fact that you gave me an amazing orgasm and left me wanting more? The fact that when you look at me, all I want is to tear your clothes off and let you do whatever you want to me? I’m on board, Fin. You’re the one who’s holding back.” I was officially pissed. “You can’t fucking jerk me around. If you’re going to take me, fucking take me and shut up about it.” I waited for barely a second before he threw me back on the bed.
“Fine. But you asked for it.”
Yes. I did.
This time I kept my mouth shut and didn’t do anything. We were doing this his way, and I wasn’t going to interfere.
He tore the robe open and paused for a moment to admire the lingerie, tracing his finger over the lace, before he took hold of either side of the panties and ripped them right from my body. In my head I heard Sloane screaming for their loss.
The bra was next, but he was a bit gentler with that, and it survived removal.
“Turn over on your stomach.” I did as he said, turning my head to the side on the pillow so I could breathe.
He moved above me and my skin shivered in anticipation of what was to come. I could just barely see him out of the corner of my eye, and that made it all the more sexy.
“Open your legs,” he said, that commanding voice back. I opened my legs for him, but apparently that wasn’t enough, so he grabbed the outside of my thighs and pulled them wider before running his hand up my thigh. I quivered, waiting.
“I should be mean and not let you come before I do, but I do need to make up for leaving you the last time.” His hand slid up and down my opening and I could feel moisture gathering there. I’d been ready for him days ago, and it was as if I’d paused in that moment.
“So sweet and so wet already,” he said, pleased as he dipped one finger inside me, making me moan.
“Shhh, no talking.” I bit my lip and tried as hard as I could to be silent. He removed his finger and moved his hand back down my thigh and then up again, before stroking me with his fingers, pushing one inside me and then repeating the process.
It. Was. MADDENING. I wanted him to keep touching me. To keep plunging his fingers inside of me. I wanted his mouth on me, I wanted his tongue and his lips and fingers working. But I kept silent.
“So impatient. If we do this again, you’re going to have to learn. I’ll be more than happy to teach you control, sweet Marisol.” I was screaming inside my head for him to just fuck me, but he wouldn’t.
I couldn’t stay silent as he grabbed me by my waist and flipped me on my back.
“I want to watch your face as I make you come. Only then will you be allowed to make a sound. Nod if you understand.” I nodded and he crawled between my legs, putting his hands under my ass to lift me closer to his tongue. I’d never had a harder time being silent than when he licked me up and down before plunging his warm tongue inside me.
With just his mouth, he teased me, going hard and then pulling back, sucking and then blowing on my most sensitive areas until I was coiled so tight I could feel my release just beyond my grasp.
“Not yet,” he said. “Hold on.” I gripped the sheets as hard as I could and willed my body to be under my control as he drove me further and further toward orgasm.
And just when I thought I couldn’t take it anymore, he licked me one final time.
“Now. Come for me.” As if my body was controlled by him alone, I let go, crying out words that all came together and made no sense. He kept his mouth on me, making it last. Distantly I heard a package rip and he pulled away.
And then, just as I thought it was over, he was above me and thrusting inside me with one smooth stroke. “Now it’s my turn,”
he said, slamming so hard into me it was almost painful. I was still tender from my orgasm, but wet enough that he slid in with no resistance.
“Fuck, you’re so sweet and tight for me, Marisol.” He smiled down at me as if I’d done something worthy of winning a prize. I was still dazed as he lifted one of my legs over his shoulder and pulled out, thrusting hard again. I couldn’t help making a noise, and he clamped one hand over my mouth. I had a momentary urge to bite his fingers.
“No. Talking.” He thrust with each word to drive the point home before setting a pace that my body almost couldn’t keep up with, but once I got the rhythm of it, I was matching him, silently urging him on.
“My sweet girl,” he panted, sweat dripping from the ends of his hair and falling into the bed, our bodies slippery with moisture.
Impossible as it might have been, I could feel myself rising again. If only he’d move just a little . . .
THERE.
With a few more thrusts, I was coming again, and I was too busy trying not to make a sound to realize that he was coming as well, calling out a number of obscenities, my name mixed in there as well.
He fell to the side, panting and wiping the sweat from his forehead.
“Am I allowed to talk now?” I asked.
He turned toward me with a glare on his face, but it melted into a smile as he moved some of the hair out of my eyes.
“Yes, you can talk now.” The dark Fin was gone, replaced by the goofy sweet one who brought me flowers and made stupid jokes. I was attracted to both of them. Very attracted.
I turned on my side, propping my head on my arm. “When do I get to see you naked?” There was only one part of him exposed and he quickly got to his feet and headed to the bathroom before I could get a chance to . . . examine the situation further. He came back zipped up and with his hair slicked back.
Deep Surrendering (Episode Two) Page 2