Delayed

by Nathan Kingsly

  “Ohhh, Liam.” She moans, and I grip her hips harder. “You shouldn’t feel this good.”

  “No?” Reaching around, I grip her throat, and she comes willingly. Her back pressing against my front; her hands grip my forearm for balance. With two fingers, I turn her head and kiss her. Whispering against her lips, I demand. “Describe it.”

  “I-I-I don’t know if I can.” She breathes, her warm breath against my cheek.

  My hips are no longer pounding, and she meets me with every measured thrust. There’s a gasp for every time we connect as I reach deeper and further into her sweet, tight hole.

  “Try.”

  “It’s like…mhhhh, not knowing how full I could feel until now.” Her pussy constricts around me as if to emphasize her word. "Something sweet and tangy against my skin, almost acidic in the air, but only enough to balance out the sugar aftertaste. Every time you touch me, it intoxicates my bloodstream, keeping me drunk and sated. It’s been that way ever since I brushed your arm on the train.”

  Pushing her down onto the bed, my hand grips her bun that's still wet from the rain. I bite my lip as she gasps as I fill her on a forceful thrust. “If writing poetry isn’t what you do for a living, you’re in the wrong profession.” I could not have put this feeling into words, yet it’s how I know it to be. Intoxicatingly full, saturating my veins until drunk.

  The room fills with our sounds of passion, no longer needing words, as that familiar feeling of no return tingles at the base of my spine. Pushing her even farther into the mattress, I ride her till release.

  Catching my breath, I pull out of her. Heading to the bathroom, I grab a washcloth and run it under warm water. I return to her, her lazy smile filling me with pride. I’ve still got it.

  She holds out her hand to take the washcloth, but I bypass her and clean her myself. Tossing it in the direction of the bathroom, I pick up a limp Emma and lay us out farther up the bed. She’s so short that when I wrap her against my body, she’s the definition of the small spoon.

  “You’re so warm.” She whispers into the dark of the room. Wiggling to get closer, hugging on the arm wrapped around her front.

  My laugh is deep as I pull her as close as she can get. “Am I earning my keep yet?”

  “Even if you were, I wouldn’t tell you. You’d lord it over me, and I’d have to spend the rest of our time together deflating your ego back down to tolerable levels. There are other things we can spend our time on, especially if you’re naked.”

  “Give me five minutes, and I’ll make you rethink all this back talking.”

  “How long do you think we’ll need to stay here?” She questions as she grabs two paper cups of the coffee she made. Handing me one, she takes a seat beside me on the couch. The rain hasn’t slowed against the windows since we got here almost three hours ago. We ended up having sex a second time, taking a nap, and I woke to the coffee's aroma in my nose. No one was more shocked than me that I slept hard enough to allow her to move freely in the room without me waking. I got dressed in a rush feeling the exposure now that I wasn’t solely focused on her.

  Shrugging, I say. “I don’t know.” Grabbing my phone, I scroll through the weather site I recite, “It's possible that the storm may continue to affect the east coast, around the Carolinas for several days.”

  “Trying to leave already?” I joke as I put the phone on the coffee table. I smile until I look to find her gnawing her bottom lip with a crease between her brows. “What is it?” I ask.

  She releases her lip and looks over. “If the storm clears up in two or three days, I will make my brother’s wedding in time to help with the last arrangements.”

  “You don’t think they can manage without you?”

  “It’s not that. I want to help my brother. Do you have siblings?” Crossing her arms, she leans into the cushions of the couch.

  “Yeah, a younger sister.” I’ve listened to her message. She knows about the storm and hopes that I’ve found a place to ride it out. Mom is calmer and still at the hospital. When I know more of what I’m going to do, I’ll give her a call.

  “Wouldn’t you want to make her life easier if you could?”

  “Sure, I guess.”

  “It’s the same thing.” She shrugs as if it’s a universal truth, but she doesn’t understand the dynamics of every family, and her solutions wouldn’t work for everyone. Staying away was my way of protecting my family.

  “Hungry?” I ask to change the subject.

  “Starving. Do you think there’s any chance of room service?”

  “Only one way to find out.” After a few minutes of talking to the front desk, I look over and find that Emma has moved to stretch out on the mattress. Her eyes closed, one of her legs dangle off the side, swinging back and forth.

  Moving over to her, she pops her eyes open as I slide her leggings back down. A lazy smile flirts with her mouth as she asks, “What are you doing?”

  “Snacking before dinner.”

  Flinging the fabric behind me, I take my first real taste of Emma, and it’s even sweeter than I expected.

  Ten minutes later, with a sated Emma, and my erection untouched and straining against my jeans, we leave the room. As soon as we make it to the main lobby, there are people milling about, talking in small groups, but eventually, we find a lineup for food in one of the hotel conference spaces.

  The hotel employee waves us over. “Room number?”

  “One hundred and two,” Emma says.

  He marks something on his checklist and then looks back up. “Sir, room number.”

  “Same as hers.”

  He looks back down, his pen hovers, and looks back up, his eyebrows scrunching together. “It says only one person should be staying in that room.”

  Emma loops her arm in mine and lays her head on it. “I assure you, there’s some kind of mistake. My husband doesn’t go anywhere without me.” The title husband exaggerated in her assurance along with her batting eyelashes.

  When he ducks his head again to check the sheet as if it’ll change, Emma catches my eye and winks.

  “You’re right, ma’am.” Emma looks back as he lifts his head. “There must be some type of mix-up. This has all been a little rushed and unorganized.” He clicks his pen and places it next to his checklist until it’s parallel with the pages. “Please go ahead, and each of you pick up a box provided on the table. The meal’s simple, a sandwich, a pack of chips, and bottled water. We’re fortunate enough to be close to a Subway. Also, pick up a kit; they are under the table. One per room, please.”

  “Thanks so much.” She leads me away, and we follow his instructions. Once we’re out in the hall, she starts to laugh and bumps me with her hip. “Stop looking like you swallowed a bug.”

  “Wouldn’t do that when I’ve got a perfectly good sandwich in my hand.”

  She giggles, and my shoulders start to relax. “Want to eat in our room, husband?” She shakes her head and laughs when I tense up again. “Jesus, Liam, you need to relax.”

  “You two must be newlyweds.” Someone says behind us. We turn almost in sync to find an older woman walking towards us with a box of her own.

  “We are,” Emma says as she puts an arm around my back and presses herself against my side. When she looks up at me again with a smile, I roll my eyes and put an arm around her, bringing her that much closer.

  “How lovely.” The woman says, bringing our attention back to her. “How long?”

  “A few hours,” I say before Emma can come up with some ridiculous backstory. “We were on our way to Cancun when this storm hit.”

  “Oh, congratulations. Can’t believe you have to start your honeymoon like this though.” She shakes her head and looks upset by our pretend circumstances.

  “Don’t worry.” Emma winks at her. “We’re making up for it in other ways.”

  “Oh.” The lady’s cheeks redden, looking between the pair of us, and hides a smile behind a hand before she says. “Well, dears, don’t le
t me keep you from a good time. Have a good night.” She laughs at her own joke and walks past us, brushing a hand down my arm. What is with people doing that to me today? Have I been a shut-in for so long that this is the new custom?

  Emma laughs the rest of the way up to the room. “I can’t believe how easy that was.”

  “You’re wild,” I reply, shaking my head in disbelief. “And you’ve made me an accomplice.”

  “Liam, we’re only together a short time. Once we go our separate ways, we can go back to who we were before. I don’t see the harm in that, do you? Haven’t you ever wanted to pretend?”

  Pretend things were different? Everyday.

  “As long as you don’t dress me up while we play house, I can’t see the harm.”

  “Awe, but I bet you would look super cute in a bright pink cocktail dress with jewels that sparkle when you walk. Only a few men can pull off that color, ya know." Her body shakes with laughter as she starts to slide the key card into the door. I grab her arm, she twists, wearing that smile that reaches her eyes, and I want a taste of it.

  Pressing her against the door, the boxes crumpling between our bodies. Her smile falters, and her eyes grow darker as the blue of the sky does before a storm hits. I kiss her.

  We get lost in the kiss and can’t get our bodies close enough. Her lips taste like sunshine and good outcomes. I’m itching to tear off her clothes where she stands, but then I hear a girlish giggle.

  “You dropped your stuff.” Still catching my breath, standing in the hall to my right, there’s a girl in a bright pink swimsuit, pointing at the forgotten boxes.

  “Thanks, kid,” I say while grabbing them, shielding my erection from her observant gaze. Emma is laughing so hard she snorts as she slides the key, and the door unlocks with a click. She pushes in, and I follow until we’re safe on the other side of the door. Tossing the boxes on the couch, I grab her from behind. She lets out a squeal as I drop her onto the bed, deciding the food will keep for a while longer.

  After however long it takes, no one in this room is keeping track; we sit on the bed opposite one another, the sheet still tangled around us as we eat our sandwiches.

  “S-o-o,” I start before taking a bite. “You mentioned you own your business? What do you do?”

  She wipes some leftover mustard from her lip. When her thumb starts to enter her mouth, I see it in slow motion. By the time it comes back out seconds later, clean, I’ve forgotten what I had asked until she starts to answer me.

  “An event planner.”

  I clear my throat, but my response still comes out gruff. “You plan parties and stuff?”

  “Well, it’s the stuff that makes me good at my job.“ She bites back a smile.

  “Sorry, I can’t say I’ve used someone with your talents before.”

  “It’s not surprising. I haven’t known many male clients. It’s a shame; men need more direction than women when it comes to planning things. No offense.”

  “I think the offense is intended,” I smirk.

  She laughs as she shakes her head. “No, really, it isn’t. My job is in the details. All the little touches. You know exactly what I mean when I say you are all straightforward?” She waits for my nod before going on. “Those details get lost if someone like me isn’t there to remind you of them.”

  “The only parties I’ve ever thrown involved a keg, a ping-pong table, and music played from my CD player, but that was back in college. If I ever find myself in need of a party planner now, I will look you up.”

  “Good, because you’ll need me.” Her laugh is addicting, and I wouldn’t mind hearing it again after this is all over.

  Wait, would I? When I get back, from whatever this is, when we go back to our lives, we’ll no longer line up or make sense.

  I live for my solitude, which leaves no room for someone that takes up my time or responsibility. Yet, every minute I spend with her makes it harder to remember why I live that way.

  I’m used to people trying, then failing to push me out of my headspace, out of my routine, or mold me into someone that I can’t be. Yet, she’s done all that. With her around, there’s little time to be in my head, when all I want is to be in hers. I was forced out of my routine by my sister, but Emma hasn’t allowed a routine to manifest since I met her. She’s unpredictable, puts pressure on my boundaries, and I let her as if it’s a trampoline. The most astounding part is I watch her in fascination as she does so. She has no agenda, and she’s not trying to put me in one.

  Our eyes go to the light by the bed. We watch as it flickers again. We’re holding our breaths and the storm outside seems louder than ever.

  “Do you think-” She starts, and before I can get my eyes on her again, the light goes out. Her hand reaches and finds mine searching for her. “I guess that answers my question. I can’t see a thing, can you?”

  Shaking my head, I smile at myself before saying, “Not a thing.”

  “Oh, I have candles in my bag.”

  “Should I ask?”

  “In this case, it’s for work. Sample candles for my future sister-in-law.” I swear I hear her rolling her eyes. Reluctantly I let her go, as the mattress’s springs give way when she shifts her body off the bed.

  “Ouch! Motherfucker!” She shouts as the bedframe shakes underneath me.

  “Shit, are you alright?” I start to get off the bed, my hands out in front of me, coming up with nothing but open air.

  “Fine.” She wheezes out. “Stay there; if you start moving around, it’s bound to be more dangerous.”

  Letting out an unexpected chuckle, I shake my head, but I do as she asks. When the sounds change in the room from a set of footsteps to two, I imagine her on her hands and knees. The thought that I'm missing her ass in that position has me equal parts frustrated and turned on. A few seconds later, I hear her rummaging in what must be her bag.

  “Ah, ha! There you are.” After a few seconds of more rummaging in her bag, she breaks into laughter.

  “What?”

  “TSA, that’s what.” She says through more laughter. “They took my lighter. I almost took my toe off for nothing.”

  “Maybe the hotel put some matches in our kit?”

  “Oh, maybe.”

  “But it’s late; we should try in the morning?”

  On cue, she yawns. “Yeah, alright.”

  Waking with a start, my hand searches in the dark. Emma sighs as my fingers graze her back. She’s still naked, just as I am.

  Jerking, I hear the noise that must have woken me. Outlining the heavy curtains, I move towards the only light in the room. With a finger on the edge, I look out and see, along with the rain, there is hail mixed in. I’m not an expert, but I thought tornadoes drop hail, not hurricanes.

  “What is it?” Emma asks in a throaty tone. I doubt she’s trying to turn me on, but it doesn’t stop my body from reacting.

  “Hail.” Even outside in this storm, it’s lighter than in this room. Opening the curtains more in the middle, so that I can see, I walk to the bed and get under the covers. Laying with one arm above my head and the other over my stomach, I will my erection to deflate.

  “I think it sounds kind of nice.” The bed creaks and dips as she turns and presses herself against me—my arm curls around her like it’s the most natural thing.

  “It sounds like it’ll come through the window. I fail to see the nice in that.”

  Her laugh vibrates past my ribs and into my chest. “I didn’t ask, but now I’m curious, where were you headed before this storm hit?”

  Even with her so close, my erection disappears quicker than letting air out of a tire. “Visiting someone.”

  “Do you know this person?”

  “I used to.”

  “So, an old friend?” I can feel her head shift and her stare on the side of my face.

  “Not exactly.”

  “Why does it feel like I’m sticking a needle in your paw?”

  “It’s complicated.”

&nbs
p; “...and, you apparently don’t want to talk about it.”

  Squeezing her harder against my side, she sighs. I think then she’ll go back to sleep, but she asks another question. “How about what you do for a living? Will you answer that?”

  “Night stocker.”

  I close my eyes in the hope she will not ask me anything else. She wiggles and shifts. My eyes open to find her laying on top of me, her hands under her chin. There’s a smile playing on her lips.

  “Are you trying to sound like a serial killer?”

  That catches me off guard. When I say nothing, she starts ticking off things on her fingers. “You have a job no one wants, might isolate yourself, little to no friends. You’re mysteriously traveling to meet with a ‘friend’.” Her extended fingers quote the word friend. “That you may or may not know.” She raises an eyebrow.

  “Ever notice serial killers shy away from identifiable marks? I'm covered head to toe in them.” I look down at my shoulder then back to her.

  She looks down as if surprised, but she’s had plenty of opportunities to see me naked. Her fingers are feather-light as they trace the closest tattoo on my chest. The motion of her soft touch is soothing. “You could cover them up.” My eyes closed when she started to trace my skin, but I hear the smile in her tone.

  “If you’re convinced, you would have to accept that you’re a bad judge of character.” I open an eye and catch her wrinkle her nose.

  “I wouldn’t go that far.”

  “If you were going to question my moral compass, you should have picked a better moment.” Wrapping my arms around her, her eyes shift to meet mine. “I’ve got you trapped.” I tap her back with a finger. “You’re locked inside of a hotel room.” Tapping with a second finger. “You’re naked.” I tap a third and final time. “If you tried to get away now, you wouldn't make it very far.”

  She purses her lips in a poor attempt not to smile. “Sound point. Can I ask another question?”

  “If you must,” I sigh.