Sweet Possession

by J. Daniels

  “Thank you for giving me that moment, Dylan. I can stop the slideshow and play your video now,” Billy says into my hair as I hug him.

  I lean back. “No. Leave yours on. It’s the sweetest thing.” I reach up and ruffle his hair. “I’m so excited for you.”

  “Holy shit! This wedding is insane,” Brooke declares with her drink in her hand as she comes up to the group. She motions with her free hand toward the rest of the crowd that are all mingling and dancing. “Side note. There is zero play for me at this shindig. You all seriously need to find some more single friends.” She winks before grabbing Joey and Billy, congratulating them. Juls and Ian begin dancing and I look around for my groom, only scanning half the room before I feel him behind me.

  His lips press against my hair as his arms wrap around my waist. “I love you, Mrs. Carroll.”

  I spin around and link my fingers behind his neck. “I love you. Feel like taking a bathroom break? I’ve heard the amenities here are prime for fucking.”

  He shakes his head, laughing at me. I think he’s going to respond with some filthy comment, but he kisses me instead. And when that happens, I no longer hear the hysterical excitement of our friends. I no longer hear the song playing overhead or the noises of the crowd around us. I’m purely focused on Reese and the way he kisses me.

  The way my husband kisses me.

  And nothing could pull me out of this moment with him. Not even a vacant men’s bathroom.

  “Why are we stopping at the bakery?” I ask as the limo pulls in front of my shop and comes to a stop. Reese and I left The Whitmore underneath a cloud of bubbles before getting into our getaway vehicle. It was supposed to drive us straight to his condo. Or so I thought.

  I don’t get an answer from my groom before he opens the door and steps out, offering me his hand. I take it and exit the limo, looking up at him.

  “Umm, did you not get enough of that cake? Is that why we’re here? For treats? Because I thought I saw you eat, like, four pieces.”

  He opens the shop door, keeping my hand in his as he enters the alarm code. “That was the best cake I’ve ever had. And I meant what I said about you making that every year on our anniversary.”

  “Not to scale, I hope,” I reply with a smile.

  He pulls me through the back and toward the stairs. I stop him, firmly holding my place by the worktop.

  “Wait. What are you doing?”

  Did he completely forget that all of my stuff was moved out today?

  He smiles sweetly. “Come upstairs with me.”

  I can feel the wrinkles setting into my skin as I put on my most baffled expression. Before I have time to ask any more questions, he steps into me, lifting me off the floor and cradling me in his arms. I hold onto his neck as he carries me up the stairs, swings the door open, and steps out into my old loft.

  Because that’s what it is.

  What I’m looking at now is definitely not the loft I’m familiar with.

  Some of my stuff is here, but it’s been moved around. Blended with his. A perfect mix of his furniture and mine. The screen that separates the bedroom area from the living room space is now moved to the far corner of the room, separating a smaller area from everything else. The arrangement is different, making the space seem bigger somehow. My bed has been moved against the wall, leaving more room around it. After taking in my surroundings, I turn my head to meet his anxious eyes.

  “I’m confused.”

  He smiles, setting me down on my feet and taking my hand in his. His other hand works at loosening his tie. “Why are you confused? This is your wedding present.” He pulls me toward the bed and spins me around to face it while he stays at my back. I feel his fingers tug at the buttons on my dress. “Dylan, I don’t need things. I don’t need a big condo, or extra room, or all this shit I’ve accumulated over the years. This place is tiny, but we can make it work. I had the rest of our stuff put into storage until we figure out what to do with it.”

  “But what about when we have a baby? We agreed we’d be cramped in here.”

  His finger points over my shoulder, and I follow it to the decorative screen. “The baby can be right there. That way he’s right next to us.”

  “He?” I ask, biting back my smile. I feel his fingers unsnap the clasp behind my neck holding my halter up and seconds later, my dress drops to the floor. Turning around, I watch his gaze slowly move up my body, taking in my wedding present to him. His chest rises with a deep inhale as his eyes seems to lose focus somewhere between my stomach and my neck. I let him look for a few more seconds before I coax an answer from him. “Reese?”

  “Hmm?”

  “You said ‘he’. We’re not having any daughters?”

  With that question, his eyes quickly meet mine as he grabs my waist and tosses me onto the bed. He lowers himself onto me. Blanketing me. “I don’t know if I can handle more than one of you. I’m shooting for all boys.” I throw my head back and laugh as he straddles my waist. “Now, what the fuck am I supposed to do with this thing?”

  I look down my body, seeing his hands physically tremble as they hover over my corset. “There’s ties in the back that…ahh!” I’m quickly flipped over on my stomach as his knees brace him on either side of my body. I feel the strings being loosened as I rest my head on my cheek, looking out at our loft.

  Our loft. No longer mine. Every memory I make here will now contain my husband and the family we create.

  “Thank you for what you did. I really love my wedding present.”

  His lips press between my shoulder blades. Then lower, as my corset is loosened completely. Once my back is completely exposed, I’m flipped over so I can see him. He sits back on his knees between my legs, taking in the sight of me, and I see his chest shudder with his inhale. As if it’s the first breath he’s taken in hours.

  “Are you okay?”

  “It’ll always be like this with you.” His eyes hold mine with a gentleness I don’t remember ever seeing from him. And I want to ask him what he means, but I wait, because I know he’s going to give it to me. I see his throat roll with a swallow, his lips parting slightly as his eyes commit me to memory with the most profound look he’s ever given me. “After 323 days, I should know the effect you have on me. But I don’t. I’m never prepared for it. Every time I see you, it’s like I’m at that wedding all over again.”

  The air leaves my lungs in a trembling rush, and I’m suddenly not concerned with breathing at all. Nothing gets to me like the words he chooses for me. And I know nothing ever will.

  “How do you do that? How do you make me love you more than I ever dreamed possible?” I ask as the tears pool in my eyes. I reach my hand out, needing to feel him. Needing that constant contact now more than ever.

  His hand touches mine and he laces our fingers together. “I should ask you that.”

  I blink, sending the tears down the side of my face. He releases my hand and grabs my foot, resting my heel against his chest. One shoe is removed then the other. I watch him run his fingers up the inside of my leg along my stocking until he reaches the metal clips of my garter. And after his declaration to me seconds ago, I think this is going to be gentle. I think his next moves with be unhurried and tender.

  Until I see the tremor in his hand as he brings it up to rake through his hair.

  He pushes off the bed and starts ripping his clothes off, not giving a shit about buttons or zippers. He’s frantic, like a man deprived, watching me frozen on the bed.

  Hungry.

  Greedy.

  He’s normally so controlled, so calculated with everything he does. Especially sex. His movements are precise. Well-orchestrated. Practiced. And I love that side of him. But when he’s chaotic like this, when he can’t seem to settle himself enough to remove clothing properly, when he appears human, faulted like the rest of us, this is the side of Reese which drives me insane.

  “I don’t think I’ve ever needed to be inside you so badly before. I’m fucking sh
aking,” he pants as he drags his rigid cock up my leg. He puts a hand on each of my thighs, digs his fingers into my skin, and shreds my stockings away from my body. My garter and panties are removed, tossed off the bed and disregarded like everything else that isn’t him and me in this moment. His hands anchor into the skin of my hips as he lifts them off the mattress and, in the same motion, drives into me.

  “Reese,” I cry out, digging my nails into his shoulders.

  He pushes my knees against my chest, lunging so hard into me my teeth chatter. “You’re finally mine. I’ve waited so long for this.”

  I nod through a moan, closing my eyes and silently chanting. Yes. Yes. Yes.

  His hands massage my breasts as his thrusts become frenzied. Fingers pinch my nipples and my eyes flash open when I feel the slide of his tongue over one hardened peak.

  I thread my fingers into his hair, fisting it when he bites down. “Oh, God,” I cry as he buries his face between my breasts.

  “Say it, Dylan.” He lifts his head, capturing my mouth and stealing the words from me. “Beg me like you do.”

  I don’t hesitate. I never will. “Please, Reese,” I say against his lips, hearing him react with a soft moan. “I need you. Please.”

  His arms brace himself on either side of me, flexed and fully extended as he begins thrusting forward in a slow, steady rhythm. We keep our eyes on each other, never breaking contact. He runs his hands over every inch of me. His lips follow. Then his tongue. He drags his cock on my skin each time he pulls out, the heaviness of it slicked with my desire for him. He gives me his words, sweet and filthy, as he moves in me. He’s wild one minute and tender the next, sliding between my tits while he tells me how hot my tight, little pussy is and then whispering against my ear how he’ll need me forever while he finger-fucks me. I’m clawing at his skin, wanting to somehow embed myself beneath his surface as he brings me to orgasm over and over, denying himself his own release to focus on me. He grinds into me from behind, his deft fingers rooting themselves into my hip bones as he bottoms out with punishing thrusts. My body breaks, bowing in submission as a wave of pleasure surges through me. He tastes the skin of my neck. My breasts. Between my legs. My fingers tangle in his mess of hair as my body arches off the bed into another rolling climax. I don’t think I can take anymore as he crawls up my body, chin and lips wet, prowling over me like a lion.

  I grab his face, making our foreheads touch as he slides his cock between my legs.

  He enters me, brushes against my mouth with his, and says, “Mine.”

  “Yes.”

  “My wife.” He lunges forward, then back.

  “Yes.” My response is softer, barely above a whisper, and I feel his body tense against mine. Ready to break.

  “Dylan.” My name escapes his lips the moment he loses all control. Sweat drips from his forehead to my chest before he collapses on top of me, sealing our bodies together.

  And we stay like that, long after our breathing steadies.

  Long after the dull ache of his hipbone against mine becomes familiar.

  Reese gives me the contact we both need. The intimacy we both crave.

  His life.

  His love.

  He gives me everything.

  And I know he always will.

  I can’t concentrate.

  I haven’t been able to concentrate for over a week.

  I know I’m supposed to be contributing to this meeting, but all my attention is on the phone weighing down my pocket. And the conference room doors. Any second now, any fucking second I could get the call.

  Papers shuffle. Ian’s voice fills the room again, followed by collective murmurs. All distractions I need right now, but don’t give in to. I can’t. But it’s been like this. I’ve been a walking zombie, present in the office but not functioning at the level I’m used to. Or that my colleagues are used to seeing from me.

  It’s pathetic, really. I haven’t felt this unhinged since I first met Dylan.

  I twist the band around my finger as my eyes lose focus.

  I’ve been told this kind of anxiety is normal for this situation, but constant? Is it possible to have a coronary at thirty-three? The problem is I have zero control over this situation. None. And I need fucking control.

  The conference door swings open, grabbing my attention immediately, and I’m on my feet before I even register who steps through because there are two things I know for sure right now.

  Everyone who is supposed to be in this meeting is here.

  And no one’s stupid enough to barge into this room without knocking first. Unless the reason behind the intrusion is too important for pleasantries, such as knocking.

  Dave sees me walking straight at him. “Mr. Carroll, it’s time. You need to go.”

  My hand is in my pocket, pulling out my phone. “Why didn’t she call me?” But before he can answer my irritated question, I see the missed calls. One from the bakery number and one from Joey. “Fucking piece of shit phone.” I look around at the stunned faces of my colleagues, giving them an apologetic nod.

  Ian’s at my back, hand halting me on my shoulder. He pulls me into a hug. “This is it, man. You ready?”

  “Yeah. Yeah, I…” I stammer on my words, suddenly not feeling prepared for the moment I’ve been more than prepared for.

  He slaps me on the back, ending our hug. “You’re ready. You’ll be fine.”

  I think I say goodbye to him, to Dave, to every person I pass in the hallway. It’s all a blur of distractions. Fucking distractions I no longer want to be aware of. I go over what I’m supposed to do, replaying my role over and over again in my head. The classes, the books I’ve read, marking pages, highlighting shit that freaked me the fuck out. Internet searches and YouTube videos I ignored the warnings of.

  “Don’t watch those. It won’t be like that,” she said to me.

  But I did. I watched them all. Trying to somehow retain enough knowledge of every possible scenario that could play out when the time came. Needing to know more information than the damn doctors who have studied this for years. I’ve smothered her with my overbearing, overprotective side that’s way the hell surpassed anything she’s ever seen from me. And anything I’ve ever felt. I will always be possessive over my wife, but the domineering drive which took over my body two hundred and eighty seven days ago is borderline psychotic. Luckily, she seemed to have been expecting my behavior.

  I don’t know where to go, so I stop at the information desk. The young woman looks up at me, expectantly waiting for me to speak with raised eyebrows. Speak. Speak, asshole!

  “Dylan Carroll.”

  Her fingers press the keys like a fucking child would, one at a time. I close my hands into fists, clamping my eyes shut because I can’t watch her do this to me right now. Twelve keys. That’s all she needs to press. Twelve. Come fucking on.

  “Take the elevators to the second floor. She’s in room two fifteen.”

  I see the line of people waiting in front of the row of elevators. Too many people. I opt for the stairs, taking them two, three at a time and exploding onto the second floor.

  Two fifteen. Two fifteen.

  I push the door open, stepping into the room filled with people in turquoise-colored scrubs. Joey and Juls are standing on either side of the large hospital bed, each of them holding a delicate hand. My delicate hand. I think I hear the doctor say something to me but can’t comprehend it as I step up and connect with who I’m here for.

  Dylan lifts her eyes to me, those big brown eyes that dilate every time she sees me. Her hair is sticking to the side of her face, cheeks flushed bright red, and lips pursed as she squeezes her eyes shut and lets out a sound that has me shoving Joey nearly clear across the room to get to her.

  “Jesus Christ, Reese!”

  I give him the quickest once-over, making sure I haven’t drawn blood, and then all my attention is on her.

  I can concentrate on this.

  “We’ll be out in the waiting
room. I’ll let your parents know you’re here,” Juls says, letting go of Dylan’s hand. I hear the door close and the movement of the nurses, but I don’t look up.

  I touch her cheek and she leans into it as the contraction lessens. When she rolls her head back onto the bed, I flatten my hand on her extended belly. “Can I do anything?” I ask, feeling the jabs against my palm I’ve become addicted to ever since I first felt them. Before she can answer, I press my lips to her hospital gown, just above my hand. “Don’t hurt your Mommy.”

  She laughs but it’s short-lived as her hands grip the rails of the bed. “Fuuuckkkking shit!” Her body arches, head thrown back as her belly begins to jerk against me.

  “Mrs. Carroll, I need to check you,” the doctor says, sliding his hand into a glove.

  I know what that means and I can’t watch him. Him. Why the fuck Dylan insisted on a male doctor is beyond me. The only reason why I agreed to it was because he’s apparently the best in the state. But that doesn’t ease the throbbing tension which sets into my body whenever he’s examined her.

  Especially now.

  I brush her slick hair off her forehead as she moans in discomfort. Eyes clamped tight, face contorted in pain.

  I hate this.

  “You look so beautiful right now.”

  Her eyes flash open, and the magnitude of her stare and what it does to me is profound. I’d do crazy shit for that stare.

  “Reese, shut up.”

  Especially when it’s paired with that mouth.

  “You do,” I affirm, kissing her sticky forehead.

  She frowns. “I’m massive, sweaty, and will seriously injure someone if I’m not told I can push in five seconds.” Her eyes narrow in on the doctor between her legs. “Well?”

  He reaches into a compartment on either side of the bed and removes two metal arms with brown straps on the end. “You’re ready. Baby’s head is down and in position. Put your feet in these and scoot all the way down.”