Missionary Position

by Daisy Prescott

  “I’m sure.”

  The unsnapping of his seat belt echoed around us.

  “Eager much?” I teased.

  He growled and opened his door. “Coming?” he glanced at me.

  “God I hope so. And soon,” I mumbled softly under my breath.

  “Come again?” He grinned.

  My mind told me we needed to talk.

  My heart told my mind to shut it.

  My body ignored both of them and hummed with anticipation.

  When we made it inside the house, he pinned me against the wall and crushed my mouth with his. In romance writing there was a trope about tongues battling for dominance. I never understood the appeal or the action until that kiss.

  Battled.

  Dominated.

  Pillaged.

  Massacred any resistance I still held.

  I rubbed against him like a cat. Yearning for Shiva’s multiple arms, my hands touched everywhere they could reach. They tangled into his hair, ran over his shoulders, inside his coat, under his sweater, and over his lower back before coming to rest on his ass.

  When we broke apart, panting for oxygen, he asked, “Am I forgiven?”

  “Less talking tonight. Talk tomorrow,” I said between pecks across his scruffy jaw. I nipped the smooth spot under his ear and inhaled a big dose of his pheromones. Not that I needed them. “Upstairs.”

  He guided me toward the stairs. With a single smooth swoop, he lifted me into his arms and carried me up to my room. Normally, I would have complained about weighing too much, or not wanting him to hurt his back, but the way Kai held me made me feel light, even dainty. And I wasn’t fool enough to argue.

  When he set me on the bed, I fell into the soft down of my duvet. Staring up at him, I remembered our first night together at his hotel. We might have had sex seven hundred ways to Sunday between now and then, but now, this, felt like the first time all over again.

  “You said no talking, but I’m not very good at following rules, so I’m ignoring your request for a second.” His dimple appeared. “I love you, Selah. Not a temporary kind of love either. I didn’t stop after our disastrous phone call, and I don’t have plans to stop. Ever.”

  “I love you. Truly, madly, deeply,” I whispered, lost in the depths of his eyes.

  He shook his head and chuckled. “You just quoted One Direction.”

  “Pretty sure it was a movie title first.” I sighed and rolled my eyes. “You know One Direction song titles?”

  “Father of a girl who loves them. What’s your excuse?”

  “College students.”

  “Mmm hmm. Sure.”

  I wanted to kiss him to stop any further discussion of boy bands while I waited for the squishy feeling which usually accompanied my fear of facing Cibele, and her inevitable rejection and dislike. It didn’t come. If Kai and I loved each other, we’d figure out Cibele. If not, there was always boarding school.

  “Hey.” He sat on the edge of my bed. “Sorry to ruin the moment with reality.”

  I patted the bed beside me, and he lay down. Propping myself up on my elbow, I gazed down at him.

  “It’s okay. She’s yours and a part of you. I’m sure I’ll love her.”

  He blinked up at me in stunned silence. Or in awe at my maturity.

  “What am I going to do with you?”

  I giggled and leaned over to kiss him. “I don’t know, what did you have in mind?”

  “You’re the one who’s been sick.”

  “True. I’m not my usual wild self.”

  “Maybe we should sleep. You need your rest.”

  “No way. You riled me up with those mistletoe kisses and One Direction references.”

  “I enjoy you riled up,” he confessed, kissing me softly. “You rile me up, too. In all of the best ways.”

  My glance flicked to his jeans where there appeared to be evidence of riling.

  Oh, hello, Gerhard.

  Any other man bringing up a boy band and his daughter would have killed the moment. Somehow, Kai doing it only made me love him—deeply, madly, truly, and foolishly love him.

  He pushed himself up on his elbows to deepen our kiss. I let him guide us, falling backward when he leaned over me. Exhaustion seeped into my bones and I swallowed a yawn, not wanting him to stop.

  Sensing my mood, he slowed everything down to an agonizing pace. Each piece of clothing, beginning with the hideous sweaters, was peeled off us and tossed onto the floor. He pulled off my shoes and toed off his, before gliding my pants down my legs and then his jeans.

  The slow seduction didn’t change once we were naked. He kissed down my body, nipping and licking patterns along my skin. Each touch reignited my nerves. I squirmed when he scraped his scruff over my hips. He held me down with his forearm while he went further south, teasing me along my upper thighs, and lavishing me with attention.

  His tongue set the rhythm I loved, and his fingers found the spot inside me, providing backup. He forgot nothing during our time apart. If anything, this was the best sex we’d ever had. The knowledge we weren’t beginning or ending only intensified every emotion and sensation until I shuddered and pleasure coursed through me.

  My orgasm tingled the hair on my head before traveling down to my feet, which curled and flexed with gratification.

  He kissed my stomach and gazed up at me. “That’s my favorite thing in existence. Giving you pleasure. I’ll never tire of it. Ever.”

  If I hadn’t been lying down, I would have swooned.

  “Come here,” I beckoned him.

  “Let me grab a condom,” he offered, kneeling.

  “No.”

  “No?”

  “I’m clean. You?”

  “Yes. Are you sure?”

  I nodded. “Please? You won’t get me pregnant, if you’re worried.”

  “Why would that worry me? I know it’s not really an option, but imagine the potential for world domination if we procreated.” He crawled up my body until his face settled inches from me.

  “Bite your tongue.”

  “I’d rather bite yours.” He kissed me and tugged on my bottom lip with his teeth.

  I reached for him, stroking his warm, smooth cock. “I never gave you your birthday present. Or wished you a happy birthday.”

  “No, you didn’t. You broke up with me instead.”

  “I suck,” I said, swirling my thumb over his tip.

  He moaned and thrust into my hand. “Speaking of sucking …”

  He didn’t have to ask twice. Means to an end or not, I loved all of him, and his cock in particular.

  I slid down the bed to reacquaint myself with Gerhard. He appeared to have missed me as much as I missed him. Using my tongue, mouth, and the occasional gentle drag of my teeth, I further brought Kai to the edge when I cupped his balls. They tightened under my touch and he clutched the comforter, his hips rolling away while he held off his orgasm.

  “Love?” His voice sounded strained.

  “Mmm?” I hummed around him.

  “That’s about as much happy birthday as I can handle if you want to have sex now.”

  I didn’t argue with him; my jaw ached.

  He rolled over me and kissed me with no qualms about tasting himself.

  We’d made love. We’d fucked.

  I loved both.

  Tonight we went slow. Each time the heat between us built up, we let it ebb, savoring our connection, never wanting it to end. We rolled over and then to our sides and back, never breaking apart. Finally, we crossed the line, unwilling and unable to hold off our orgasms any longer.

  When he came, he whispered his love like a prayer.

  KAI LEFT IN the morning to check out of his hotel and bring his things to my house. In Ghana, we lived together in all but shared mail. Now reunited, it would have been odd for him to be anywhere but my house.

  His scent, and the smell of cooking, coffee, and fresh flowers replaced antiseptic and dusty smells which first greeted my return. The hous
e smelled of life and love.

  Over omelets, made by him, we talked the talk.

  “Tell me again how you came to be my guardian angel?”

  “I was still in Chicago Thanksgiving weekend when Ama called in a panic. I made a few phone calls and found a room for you at the private clinic under the care of the best doctor I knew.”

  “He acted very stern with me.”

  “You need a stern man,” he joked, raising his eyebrows.

  “No charming, more talking.”

  “Okay, charming later. If you were sick enough to be hospitalized, it would be best to bring you home as soon as possible in case complications arose later. I booked a ticket for you and had Ama arrange to get you to the airport. At that point, I feared if you realized I was involved and pulling strings, you’d refuse any help at all. I also knew you wouldn’t say no to Ama.”

  “Devious.”

  “And true. Especially after the delightful speech you gave me over the phone about not needing me.”

  I lowered my head and poked at my omelet with my fork. “I was wrong,” I said softly.

  He lifted my chin with his finger. The lines around his eyes deepened with amusement. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t hear you.”

  “I was wrong about not needing you. Apparently, I did.”

  “Did?”

  “Do.” I grinned at him. “No way can I make my own omelets.”

  “Are you okay with needing me?”

  I exhaled and paused. “Yes, I think so. Maybe. But it will take a big adjustment, huge. I’ve been on my own since college. You can’t crash into my life and not expect some collateral damage or unforeseen meltdowns over inconsequential things.”

  “Like leaving the toilet seat up?’

  “Exactly.” I laughed. “For the record, my ass hits toilet water once, and you’ll be in big trouble.”

  “Noted.”

  “Most of all, even more than my newfound ability to admit I need you, is the overwhelming longing I have for you. It scares me.”

  “It scares me, too,” he admitted. “But we’ll navigate it together.”

  “By having a lot of sex?”

  “That will probably help, yes.”

  “Now?” I asked, eyeing the table.

  Turned out, my kitchen table had the right height and support for many different activities besides eating or reading the paper.

  Over the next several days, Kai apologized multiple times for worrying me when he went off the grid, even showing me which satellite phone he’d ordered online. I accepted his apologies, knowing he would leave me again and again if we had a life together.

  A life together.

  The concept was strange, but I smiled imagining our future.

  Ours.

  There was the O word, and I didn’t mean orgasm.

  More than half of my life had been filled with I and mine. Now there was a we. And ours. Or at least the potential for it.

  Kai still planned to fly home to Amsterdam for Christmas, stopping through Chicago to pick up Cibele. I had my family to appease in California.

  The new year would return Kai to Portland and to me.

  One rainy afternoon, we sat on the floor of my living room, festooning a Noble Fir Kai had brought home.

  “Explain to me what happened at Gil’s house when I hid in the mistletoe-free zone of the kitchen?”

  “When I almost punched that old man in the tweed jacket for kissing you?”

  Laughing, I threw popcorn at him. “You did not!”

  “I thought about it. Instead, I glowered at him from across the room in a threatening manner.”

  I munched on pieces of popcorn.

  “Are you stringing popcorn or eating it?”

  “I’d rather eat it. It needs salt. And butter.” I grabbed the bowl and headed to the kitchen.

  “What will you use for garland?” he asked, following me and sitting at the table.

  “Who needs a garland?” I waited for the butter to melt in the microwave. “Finish your story.”

  “Right. Gil introduced me to Warren Johnson, chair of the economics department.”

  “I know of him and his reputation of staring at boobs.”

  “Sounds like a typical economics guy.”

  “Weren’t you an economics major?”

  He smirked at me. “Anyway, he saw the articles about me, which made the rounds last year, and is familiar with my work.”

  “Articles plural?”

  “Plural. Several ran in major US media outlets.”

  “They did?”

  “You need to read more news and less smut, my love.”

  “Smut is better for the soul.” I should have done a search for him online. Lust, love, and malaria had distracted me. “What did these articles say?”

  “The usual stuff about walking away from millions to focus on micro-finance and clean supply chains for investors.”

  I almost dropped the hot bowl of butter. “Millions?”

  He sighed. “It’s not as if I woke up one day and gave away all of my money, but that’s how the press reported it.”

  “Millions plural?”

  He nodded. “With a little m, not a giant M.”

  “You really are Robin Hood?”

  “According to the press. Sometimes they call me the Pied Piper with the way I can convince people to do the right thing.”

  I poured the butter over the popcorn. Millionaire. “And you’re kind of famous?”

  He scratched his jaw. “I guess. Obviously not famous enough, otherwise you’d have heard of me.”

  Who was this man sitting in my kitchen?

  “And it never came up in conversation … because …” I asked.

  “It did. In Elmina.”

  “Yes, your epiphany, then I became distracted by long hair and bendy yoga images of you.”

  “Whose fault is that?”

  Images of a younger Kai doing bendy yoga positions filled my mind.

  “Hello?” Kai waved his hand in front of me.

  “Sorry.”

  “Having perverted thoughts about me again?”

  “Again?” I rolled my eyes. “You’re very distracting.”

  “So are you with the way you’re sucking butter off your finger.”

  I pulled my finger out of my mouth. “What does you being a millionaire, with a small m, have to do with Warren and Gil?”

  “Warren turned fan boy on me and asked me to do a guest lecture on campus sometime in the spring semester, with an offer to teach a course fall semester.”

  “Fan boy? Warren Johnson fanned over you?” I found it hard to believe.

  “The conversation involved a lot of arm touching and back-slapping.”

  “Okay, that’s plain weird. Are you considering doing it?”

  “Doing what?”

  “The guest lecture.”

  “Of course. It’s another way to justify to TNG relocating my base to Portland.”

  “Is being in Portland a long term thing?” I looked over his shoulder at a spot on the window.

  “It could be. Lots of big money and foundations in the Northwest I could partner with or consult for. I’ll keep my place in Amsterdam, but since I’ll always travel for my work, home base can be anywhere. If you’re asking.”

  “I wasn’t asking.”

  “You were. That’s okay. I like your need to know about my plans, and hopefully that means you want me here.”

  I walked over and stood between his legs, setting the bowl of popcorn on the table next to him. “I do want you, more than I’ll ever admit.”

  His hands found their place on my hips, and he pulled me closer. “I’ll always return to you.” He kissed me. “Always.”

  OUR TIME TO part again grew closer and a nugget of fear settled into my belly.

  I tried to smother it, but the voice that worried and created undue anxiety didn’t respond to threats. Or Christmas cookies. Emotional eating only made my pants tighter. Kai would return in l
ess than a month. In my bones and in my breath, I knew it. Yet the voice of doubt continued its soft whispering.

  I shared my thoughts with Kai while we prepared dinner for Maggie and Gil. My energy level still hadn’t returned to normal, so instead of a holiday party, it would only be the four of us. Kai volunteered to cook after my failed attempt at boxed macaroni and cheese. Apparently, you needed to set a timer or the water would boil away, leaving a soggy, gelatinous mess.

  Gil and Kai hung out in the kitchen, reveling in their bromance while Maggie and I sat on the couch and eavesdropped.

  “I told Quinn we’d video chat tonight. He’s dying to show us Lizzy’s latest trick and outfit,” Maggie said.

  “You know his ulterior motive is to get a gander at Kai, right?”

  “Of course! He’s completely transparent.”

  “He’s seen pictures. Isn’t that enough?”

  “For Quinn? Never. He won’t be happy until he can flirt with him in person. They’ll be on Whidbey for their annual summer visit. You two should join us. You can meet Diane, John’s girlfriend. He’s completely smitten; it’s adorable.”

  “Smitten lumberjack? That I would like to see.” Kai and I hadn’t planned months into the future. I had no idea where he’d be over summer. “I’d love to be there in July.”

  “Well, we’ll put it on the calendar, and that way Kai can plan around it,” she assured me.

  “That feels very domestic.”

  “How so?”

  “Having a shared calendar and making summer weekend plans in December.”

  “Welcome to life as a couple. It takes work and coordination sometimes.”

  “Ugh. The work word.” I scowled.

  “You can complain, but I bet you wouldn’t give it up at this point.”

  Deep male laughter carried from the kitchen.

  “Never.” I smiled.

  THE NIGHT BEFORE Kai left for Chicago and then Amsterdam, we exchanged gifts.

  He loved the sculpture I bought for him in Aburi. He rubbed her curves with the same adoration he gave mine.

  Finally, I was allowed to open the shipping box, which had arrived two days earlier from Amsterdam. Inside it sat the beautiful Ashanti comb he had purchased at auction.

  I gaped while I gently lifted it from the tissue. “How?”

  “I remembered how much you loved it. Your eyes lit up when I showed you the catalogue.”