One More Time_A Second Chance Romance

by Rye Hart

  “They caught the guy, right?”

  “Yes,” I'd say.

  “And you're alive, so at least there's that.”

  I was alive. They were right about that much. Yet, I felt like an empty shell of a human. Without my equipment, I had no show. Without the show, I had no career. Without a career, I had no money and no future. It was a depressing as hell cycle of thought that I couldn't seem to break. And it got that much harder every time I had to try and explain my story to somebody.

  I sighed and got online, using Oliver's computer and updated my website. I let my devoted listeners know what happened and promised to be back up and running as soon as I could. Not that I knew when that was going to be. Or if it would ever actually happen.

  “At least I'm alive,” I muttered to myself, hearing the hollow futility ringing in my words.

  Oliver had to go back to work eventually, leaving me alone in his townhome. I was nervous and jittery at first, even though the guy behind the attacks had been caught. But, at night, when I was home alone in a house that wasn't mine, I still woke up shaking with fear. Sounds would catch me off guard, set my heart pounding, my pulse racing, and fear nearly crippling me.

  I didn't know when the last time I'd actually gotten a decent night's sleep had been. But, most of the time, Oliver was there to hold me, to soothe me.

  Many nights, I'd be the one soothing him though.

  Until eventually, we slept through the night. Both of us. It was about a month after everything had happened, and Oliver was off work. We collapsed into bed, in each other's arms, and didn't wake up until after eight the next morning. It had been absolutely wonderful and completely unexpected. But, completely welcome.

  I woke up first, feeling good after an actual solid night of sleep. I lay there and stared at the man beside me. He looked so peaceful sleeping next to me, with the sun streaming down onto his face, making his cheeks glow.

  This same man saved my life not once, not twice, but three times. I kissed his cheek softly, not wanting to wake him. I appreciated Oliver for everything he'd done for me and knew he, more than anybody, deserved to sleep for a week straight if he wanted to.

  When my lips touched his skin though, his eyes fluttered open, and he smiled up at me.

  “Did you sleep okay?” he asked, his voice still thick with sleep.

  “I did,” I said, a smile spreading across my face. “You?”

  He nodded. “First time in well over a year,” he admitted.

  Without preamble or warning, Oliver pulled me to him and kissed me, neither one of us caring about morning breath. His tongue entered my mouth as he pulled me over on top of him. I felt his cock, already stiff, as I straddled him. Oliver lifted the nightgown up and over my head and tossed it aside, taking my breasts in his hands.

  “You make me feel as beautiful as you did back when I was seventeen,” I laughed.

  “Hell, you're more beautiful now,” he said. “Not that I ever thought that would be possible. You were the most beautiful girl in high school.”

  I felt my cheeks flush. Oliver always seemed to have that effect on me. He didn't even have to say the words most of the time – he just looked at me as if I was the most beautiful woman in the entire world. And I believed him.

  His erection pressed against his boxers and I ground myself down on him, dry humping him as we kissed. His hands were tangled up in my hair as I rubbed myself against his firm, hard body. He raked his fingers down my back, drawing a shudder out of my body and a soft moan from my lips.

  Suddenly, Oliver pulled back from the kiss and stared into my eyes.

  “I love you, Madison,” he said.

  My heart raced as I absorbed his words, not sure what to make of them. Not sure what to say in return. I just sat there, staring at him, like a complete idiot.

  “So much for not getting serious,” I joked.

  It was the wrong thing to say, I knew it instantly, and felt like an asshole. The pain was etched into his face, and even though I felt the same way as him, I felt like I had nothing to offer him. I was, once again, starting from scratch. I was in no place to give myself to someone else. I brought nothing into a potential relationship.

  But, he'd gone out on a limb by admitting his feelings. He deserved the same sort of emotional honesty and integrity from me. I owed it to him. In the days and weeks after our brush with death, I'd seen a change in Oliver. The darkness that always seemed to be behind his eyes had lifted, and the heaviness that seemed to weigh his soul down dissipated. He seemed like a new man. A free man. A happier man.

  I knew it had a lot to do with finally getting closure. With finally knowing who had killed his girlfriend and seeing the man behind bars.

  I was happy to see this new version of Oliver and could really get used to being around him. Being with him.

  “I love you too, Ollie.”

  I said the words because they needed to be said. Almost a decade after he set off that initial fluttering in my heart, I could finally tell him how I actually felt about him. And when I said the words aloud for the first time, my heart swelled so much, I feared it might burst.

  Oliver pulled me down, hard, and kissed me. I slid my hands down to his boxers and pushed them down his legs. He helped me out by slipping them down his legs the rest of the way and kicking them aside.

  Reaching out, I gripped him with one hand and gave his stiff rod a good, hard stroke. Feeling his prick growing even stiffer in my hand set off an explosion within me. I felt the heat and the wetness between my thighs growing.

  I needed to have him inside me. I needed to have him inside me now.

  Gripping his rock-hard shaft, I lowered myself down onto him, taking the tip of his cock inside of me with ease. Given how wet I was, he slipped into me without any difficulty at all. It was like our bodies were meant to be together.

  I gasped as he grabbed me by the hips and pulled me down further onto his cock. He filled me up and stretched me open like no man ever had before, but the slight pinch of pain only seemed to add a little heat and spice to the intense pleasure he sent rocketing through my body.

  It only took a second for my body to adjust to the size of his prick because I was already wet and ready for him. Slowly, I rocked back and forth on top of him, grinding my pelvis against his as his hands wandered the length of my body.

  I felt whole when I was with him, like nothing else mattered.

  “I love you,” I said again, hoping to prove it with my body.

  Oliver's bed bounced as we made love, our bodies moving together as one. Each time we were together, I was amazed at how good he felt inside of me. Stunned by how he could bring me to such intense highs within minutes. Almost without even trying. It was as if he knew every inch of my body, inside and out. Knew what buttons to press to get me going and what levers to pull to get me off. It was all so effortless on his part.

  Oliver sucked on my nipple, knowing full well that it would send an electrical shock through my body and ignite a fire of pleasure inside of me. I writhed against him, crying out his name as the first wave of ecstasy washed over me.

  It was powerful, making me nearly scream and I spasmed so hard, I felt like I'd lost control of my body entirely for a moment. I bucked and thrashed, moving so much I felt like I might fall off him, but Oliver held onto my hips, pulled me down onto his cock harder, keeping us together.

  My body exploded in pleasure against his, my wet pussy clenching around his shaft as I thrashed wildly on top of him. My head fell forward, resting on his chest as I rode him. I could hear his heart and smiled as it raced. I moved my hips, bouncing myself up and down on his hard rod faster, taking him deeper. The sound of his breathing was growing ragged and his movements were becoming a little more frantic.

  I knew he was close and I wanted to get him off so bad. Wanted to make him feel as good as he made me feel. Needed to. I tightened the muscles inside me around him, gripping his cock as tightly as I could with my pussy as the last throes of my or
gasm rushed through me.

  Oliver held onto me, thrusting himself upward and keeping me still as his face twisted with a look of intense pleasure. I felt his body stiffen, which was followed by the feel of his hard, long cock throbbing and pulsing deep within me. A moment later, I felt the heat, warmth, and wetness flooding my body, and I knew he was exploding inside of me. Knew that he was filling me with his seed.

  As our bodies relaxed, I collapsed on top of him, spent. Oliver held me like that, my body pressed against his, both of us basking in the post-coital afterglow, for a long time. As I lay there, visions of a future – a future with him – filled my head. A future I'd never imagined before.

  After a while, he whispered, “Follow me,” he said. “I have something to show you.”

  “What are you going to show me?”

  “Can't tell you,” he said. “It's a surprise.”

  He slipped me off him, his cum spilling out of me, running down my leg, and took me by the hand. I followed him, still naked, from his bedroom and out into the hallway. Across from his room was the other bedroom, and the door was closed.

  He turned and gave me a mischievous little smile, a little glint in his eye. I cocked my head and looked at him, curious. Without a word, he reached out and took the doorknob in his hand.

  “You ready?” he asked.

  I grinned. “I'm getting a little chilly,” I said. “So yeah, I'm ready – ready to go crawl back under the comforter.”

  He turned the knob without a word and pushed the door inward. “I thought you might need a new studio and office.”

  My stomach roiling and my heart fluttering, I stepped inside and felt my jaw drop. It was everything I'd lost in the fire – and more. A lot more. Cameras and microphones and computers. I walked around just gawking at everything, afraid to touch anything because I knew none of it was cheap.

  “How did you—”

  I bit back my words and held my tongue. I didn't want to insult him, or hurt his ego, and ask the question I was dying to know – how in the hell had he been able to afford all this stuff? Instead, I shook my head and looked him in the eye, feeling profoundly grateful and entirely distraught at the same time.

  “Oliver, you shouldn't have,” I said. “I— I can't accept this. This is too much.”

  “It wasn't just me,” Oliver said with an awkward smile. “It was them.”

  “Who?”

  I looked around sharply, on the verge of panic, thinking that someone else was in the room with us. But Oliver walked around the solid dark oak desk and pointed to the open laptop.

  My fanpage was open and, even now, the comments were pouring in. Love and condolences and well-wishes from people I didn't even know – most of whom I'd never met and probably never would. What amazed me the most was that many of the well-wishers were coming in from places well outside of Chicago. Well out of Illinois entirely.

  I never knew I had such a large, passionate, and dedicated base of fans in states around the country, and it made my heart swell with gratitude. I looked down at the screen, reading some of the comments, my eyes filling with tears as I read them out.

  Madison, it's not much, but keep fighting the good fight. Never give up. Love Patsy and Mike from St. Louis, Missouri.

  Here's a little something from your biggest fan. Smooches! Ariel from Southside Chi-town.

  Sorry to hear about everything. Hope this helps. Signed, Todd from Oakland Park.

  It just went on and on and on. Hundreds of them. Thousands of them. I couldn't even begin to read them all. I had no idea how I was even going to begin thanking everybody who'd had a hand in making this happen – getting me back on the air, doing what I do.

  “Seems you have a lot of fans,” Oliver said. “They all wanted to help out, get you set back up in your new place.”

  My new place. So, this was my place, huh? I didn't think my heart could swell any more, but hearing him speak those words proved me wrong. It swelled so much, it had to be the size of the Goodyear blimp.

  I turned and kissed Oliver, pressing myself against him and nearly knocking the much larger man to the ground by sheer force.

  “You are the best thing that ever happened to me,” I said, tears flowing down my cheeks.

  Ten years ago, I had a chance with him and blew it. I'd thrown it away because of my own selfishness and stupidity. Back then, I hadn't been ready for this level of commitment. This level of love and devotion.

  Now I was.

  There was no way in hell I'd ever mess things up with him again. I'd never take him for granted and would always make him feel as appreciated as he made me feel.

  Oliver and I were good together. My sexy fireman. The man who'd saved my life. Though, I wanted to believe that in our own ways, we'd saved each other.

  The End

  BABY WANTED

  CHAPTER ONE

  MALCOLM

  The early morning sunlight streamed in through the stained-glass window and into the parlor, casting colorful shadows across the dark hardwood floor. I groaned. My father always had a flair for the dramatic. I'd say that calling an early Saturday morning meeting qualified as dramatic. It was also exactly like him.

  My head hurt from drinking a wee bit too much the night before. Okay, a lot too much, but I hid it well. The bags under my eyes seemed to stand out more than normal. Those, I couldn't do much about, so I just had to roll with it. “Mr. Crane, you look rather sleepy this morning,” Alba, our faithful housekeeper, said with a knowing smile.

  She handed me a cup of coffee without me even asking. She knew me too well.

  “Thanks, Alba, but I've told you. Don't call me Mr. Crane,” I said with a smile. “That's my father's name.”

  Alba had been with my family for at least as long as I've been alive. Probably longer than that. Her dark hair was more gray than brown these days, her smooth face showing subtle signs of age. She was at least the same age as my dad, if not a little older. Health-wise though, she seemed to be faring much better than the old man.

  “You're going to be the head of the family before long,” she winked. “Better get used to being called Mr. Crane, CEO of Crane Enterprises.”

  “Yeah, not exactly looking forward to that,” I said.

  Alba might have been right though. Given my father's health, it might be the reason we were all gathered for a family meeting. Officially, it was my mom who called the meeting – though I knew she was acting on my father's instructions. She sat across from me, holding her head high and looked as dignified as ever as she sipped her tea. She'd never been one for coffee, never needed it. She'd always been full of life and zest; something that hadn't change all that much despite the fact that she was getting older herself.

  Her hair was freshly colored and neatly piled on top of her head in a light blonde bun. Her mouth suddenly twisted into a frown and she stared past me. I didn't have to turn around to see the reason for her disdain – his voice could be heard all the way down the hallway.

  “Good morning, Cranes,” Adam said as he sauntered into the parlor room.

  He smirked at me as he passed me by. The woman on his arm didn't dare look at me, but her appearance hit me like a sledgehammer to the gut.

  “Danielle?” I asked.

  I stood, surprised and appalled to see my ex-girlfriend on Adam's arm. We'd split up not even twenty-four hours before and yet, there she was, slinking along with my brother like nothing happened.

  She didn't make eye contact with me, her blue eyes wide as if she didn't understand how she got there. Adam leaned close and kissed her to taunt me. Danielle kissed him back – looking very enthusiastic. My blood boiled inside of me, but I knew I had to keep myself in check. This wasn't the time or place for it.

  “Brother – or shall I say – half-brother, since that's clearly what I am to you,” he greeted me, stepping forward and letting go of Danielle's hand. “Surprised to see me?”

  “Not at all,” I said.

  I wasn't surprised to see him tu
rn up. I was surprised to see her, though. Even more surprised to see her with him. Danielle finally met my gaze and I felt that familiar shudder roll through me. She’d always had a profound effect on me.

  She looked beautiful, as she always did. Her white-blonde hair sleek and straight, fell down and kissed just the tops of her shoulders. She was nearly six feet tall in her heels, and completely lean. Almost too thin, thanks to her blossoming career as a model. Personally, I liked her better when she had a few curves

  “No? Then why do you look so shell-shocked?” Adam teased, patting me on the back.

  His eyes move toward where I was staring – at Danielle. The smile on his face was predatory and malicious. He looked back at me and I could see the cold gleam in his eyes.

  “Ah yeah, I guess I understand now,” he said. “But she said you two were over, so I assumed it was fine?”

  “We are over,” I said, standing tall as I looked over at my ex. “She's all yours Adam. Enjoy yourself.”

  He patted me on the back again, leaning into me. “Don't worry. You can have her back when I'm done with her. It's not love or anything like that. We're both just looking for a good time, nothing more.”

  Adam was an asshole. He's been an asshole since the day he first came into this household. I understood why he was the way he was. I'd imagine being the family bastard would make anyone a little bitter and resentful. Never being considered “pure” or “real” in regard to the family would be enough to piss most people off. I got that. But, he seemed to take it to an extreme. Seemed to revel in it, in fact.

  His mother wasn't my mother, even though we were only a year apart. He was a year younger than me. My father sent money to his mother for years, unbeknownst to us, which was why my mom still refused to accept him into the family. He was my father's dirty little secret and she continued to think of him as such.

  It was not Adam's fault. He didn't ask to be born into such a screwed-up situation, so I'd always tried to be decent to him. But damn, he made it hard sometimes. He liked to poke me every chance he got. It was as if he was goading me, trying to make me go off on him. We've had our fights growing up, don't get me wrong. We weren't close by any means, and likely never would be. But, I’d always tried to remain civil toward him.