by Lacey Black
Working her nipples between my thumb and forefinger, I start to see the change. She’s starting to come around, pushing the action next door out of her mind, so I start to pick up speed again.
Jaime moans. I can tell she’s trying to muffle the noise. Fuck that. I want her screams echoing off the rafters. I want the police in the next damned county to get calls. “Don’t hold back,” I demand again.
Lying back on the top of bed, I watch as she rides me like a prized stallion at the rodeo. She's bucking and gyrating, a naked vision of beauty. If I only get to sleep with one woman for the rest of my life, I’d sell my soul for it to be Jaime.
She starts to come, gripping my dick tighter than ever before. Even if I wanted to, there’s no holding back my own release. Keeping a tight grip on her hips, we move in unison until we’re left with nothing but aftershocks and harsh breathing. Blood is rushing through my ears and my heart is going to rip through my chest. Jaime’s sated body slumps forward, her sweat-slicked skin molding to my own.
Best. Sex. Ever.
“I’m afraid everyone in the house heard that,” she whispers.
“Good. I want everyone to know what you do to me.”
“I can’t believe we just had a moaning competition with our neighbors,” she says while running her nose along my neck and nuzzling against my throat.
“One we clearly won,” I pant.
“Of course,” she says, the smile evident in her voice.
Hating to break our connection, I slowly move us towards the pillows. Jaime’s practically boneless as I pull her beneath the sheet, moving in close. I slip out from within her body, come spilling down both of our legs.
“Let me grab a towel,” I say, trying to sit up.
“Nuhuh,” she mumbles, latching on to my arms and legs with her own.
“We’re a mess,” I add while placing a kiss on her damp forehead.
“So. I like it.”
“That’s not all you like,” I remind her. “I believe I have a dirty girl.” Moving my hands downward, I grip her ass and pull her closer yet.
“I’ve never had anyone…talk to me like that.” I can practically feel the heat of her blush against my chest.
“Well, as long as I’m the one doing all the talking, you can hear it anytime you want, sweetheart.”
We’re silent for a few minutes; each of us lulled closer to sleep by the steady beat of our hearts and the mix of our even breaths. Before I can fully fall into slumber, I make sure to say the words that I plan to say every day for the rest of my life.
“I love you.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Jaime
The sun is high in the sky, reflecting brightly off the blue ocean water.
We slept in, both of us apparently in desperate need of a little extra sleep. With no work obligations or other responsibilities to tend to, it was easy to forget everything for a little while and just relax. When I felt Ryan stir beside me, the clock on the nightstand read almost eleven.
We’re both standing at our room door, ready to spend the day visiting all of the tourist places and specialty shops. I’m wearing my favorite blue summer dress with little white flowers, and cute white sandals. Coincidentally, Ryan is wearing khaki shorts and a blue polo shirt that looks as if it were cut from the same cloth as my dress. We’re matchies in that super cute, bordering on annoying way that I never thought I’d find charming. But I do.
“Before we go, I want to tell Phyllis that we’ll be missing dinner tonight. I have other plans,” he says, wagging his eyebrows suggestively.
“Do these other plans involve food of any kind?” I ask, giving him my best flirty smile over my shoulder as I open the door.
“Oh, don’t worry, babe,” he says, leaning in as we stop to secure the door behind us. “There will be eating.”
The provocative tone and naughty smile he gives me causes warmth to flood between my legs all over again. It’s a natural and common occurrence whenever Ryan Elson is present. He bends down and places a tender kiss on my lips. It’s completely PG, but the gleam in his eyes isn’t.
“Let’s go before I decide to forget the entire day and just keep you tied to the bed.” Ryan grabs my hand and starts to lead me towards the staircase.
“That doesn’t sound too bad, actually,” I reply, tugging against his hand to try to slow his progress.
Before he can say anything further, the door before us opens. Instantly, I’m reminded of the competition we engaged in with the couple occupying the front bedroom. I feel the color burning my cheeks as we approach the open doorway. Ryan and I both avert our eyes, watching very closely each step we make towards the staircase that represents our freedom.
“Jaime, sweetheart, is that you?” I hear in an all too familiar voice.
No. Can’t be. God isn’t that cruel.
Looking up, my green eyes slam into the sparkling ones of my grandma.
Oh. My. God!
My mouth hangs open, my brain refuses to process thoughts and make words. I’m standing there, traumatized to the point of being speechless, while Grandma smiles sweetly and innocently.
Oh. My. God! I heard my grandparents having sex. Loudly!
“What are you doing here?” I ask hoarsely after Ryan squeezes my hand.
“Grandpa and I decided yesterday that since you and Ryan were going away for the weekend, maybe we would enjoy some time away as well. The Fellers were supposed to come here this weekend, but were unable to make it since Mabel fell and sprained her knee. They offered us their reservations to this cute little place they come to every summer.”
Grandpa steps out into the hallway, a surprised look on his face when he sees Ryan and me standing in the hallway. “Jaime? What are you doing here?”
“This is where Ryan brought Jaime for their little weekend away,” she says with a sassy grin. “Can you believe it? Out of all the bed and breakfasts in Virginia, we booked the same one!” Grandma adds enthusiastically.
“I can’t believe it,” Ryan adds, the corner of his mouth twitching just enough to give away the fact that he’s fighting a smile.
Grandpa walks over to Ryan and shakes his hand. “So, you guys were here last night, huh?” he asks, bumping Ryan’s shoulder with his, not the least embarrassed by the fact that they had a screaming orgasm match with their own granddaughter.
I see Ryan blush a little and give grandpa a small smile.
“You guys look like you’re going out. I know! Why don’t we go do something together?” Grandma asks, looking over at Grandpa.
Before Ryan or I am able to politely decline, Grandpa steps in. “Oh, Emmy, you know these kids want to be alone. Do you remember our first weekend away from our parents? We went to that little theatre to see that variety show a few towns over and slipped away to the men’s restroom before intermission?”
A choking sound files the hallway, and I’m surprised to realize it came from me.
“Of course I remember. We stayed at that charming little hotel above the theatre that didn’t have locks on the doors.”
“Come on, love. Let’s leave these kids to their own devices. We’re going to picnic on the patio out back for lunch,” he says, heading towards the stairs. Together, we all descend in silence.
We reach the bottom and Ryan places his warm hand on my lower back, steering me towards the front door. I suddenly feel like I’m sixteen again instead of in the final year of my twenties. Glancing back over my shoulder, I see that Grandma and Grandpa aren’t even paying us any more attention. Grandpa has his hand possessively on Grandma’s arm as he walks beside her down the hallway towards the patio. They’re chatting animatedly about something, each laughing as he opens the door for her and they disappear out of sight.
Longing stirs my stomach, spreading warmth through my veins and to my heart. Will I have that kind of love when I’m their age? Is Ryan that love?
I always wanted happily ever after, but
I never really pictured it until right now. Sure, I thought Gavin would be in that picture someday, but now? Gavin was never meant to be the man standing beside me, guiding me and laughing with me.
But Ryan? The slightest touch of his fingertips sends shivers up and down my spine as we step outside and he leads me towards his truck. The possessive gesture mimics that of the one I saw only moments ago with my grandparents. Is this what they saw in each other when they first met? When they realized they were destined to be together, even after only knowing each other a short period of time?
Looking up at the sexy man escorting me to his ride, I smile because I already know the answer. I feel it deep in my bones, down in the depths of my soul. Ryan is my other half, my soul mate.
My forever.
***
We dine on fresh crab cakes and shrimp scampi at a little seaside diner with plastic, red and white, checkered tablecloths. It was the first restaurant we came to when strolling along the causeway by the ocean. I’ve already scoped out several shops that I want to hit on our way back to the truck.
“I can’t believe how good this is,” I mumble before stuffing more food in my mouth. “I’m going to gain ten pounds just from this weekend alone.”
“Wouldn’t matter. You’d still be the most gorgeous woman in the world,” Ryan replies while holding a piece of shrimp skewed on his fork across the table.
Leaning forward, I take a slow bite of the cheesy, garlicy sauce. “You’re too sweet.”
“I speak the truth. Gorgeous. Intelligent. Caring. Sweet. Sexy as hell. All things I see when I look at you. Your weight has nothing to do with who you are.”
Blushing slightly, I give him a small grin. His words warm my heart like melted butter in a frying pan. I’m a goner.
“Ready?” he asks when there’s nothing left but empty plates.
“Yes.”
After paying the tab, Ryan and I step out onto the walkway and slowly make our way back to where we parked his truck. “There are a few places I thought we could stop on our way back. Is that okay?”
“Whatever you want, sweetheart.”
Hand in hand, we walk half a block to the shirt shop I saw earlier. The ones in the windows have funny sayings on them, and I thought it’d be cute to commemorate our trip with cheesy tourist shirts.
A bored looking teenager mans the counter, and barely looks up from her phone as we step inside. Light reflects off of the ring in her nose, and her purple hair is spiked straight up. Clearly her conversation via text is more important than helping us, so I lead us towards the first row of t-shirts.
The first one I pick up is a black tee with F.B.I. printed boldly across the chest. I hold it up and show it to Ryan. His eyes light up and he chuckles as he reads the rest of it aloud. “Female Body Inspector. Now I know what F.B.I. really stands for.”
Folding the shirt, I return it to the stack with the others. Ryan grabs a light blue one with a large crab on the front. Opening the shirt, it displays a smiling, cartoon crab with the phrase ‘I’m too cute to be crabby.’
“This is the one we should get you,” he says.
“You clearly haven’t spent enough mornings with me before I’ve had my coffee,” I retort as I reach for another shirt.
“Here’s yours,” I say as I hold open the white shirt. It’s of a man from the thighs up wearing the smallest Speedo I’ve ever seen. His body is hard with ripped abs, a chest etched from stone, and arms that make ovaries weep. Across the back it reads ‘This is my beach body.’
“Are you saying I should cover up my body with a better one?”
“Absolutely not. I just think it’s a funny concept, you know? A middle aged, balding man walking around wearing this shirt to give the impression that he just left the gym after a long workout. All while he’s covering up his beer belly and moobs.”
“Moobs?”
“Man boobs.”
Ryan laughs and grabs the white shirt beside the one I have in my hand. “Then this one must be yours.”
It’s similar to the one I hold in my hand, but this one is of a woman. She’s wearing the skimpiest string bikini, with perfect double D’s spilling from the top, and has a hard, flat stomach. She’s curvy and voluptuous and flawless, really. She’s nothing like me.
“Perfect. We can wear them to the next family dinner,” I suggest, teasing.
“You don’t think it’d be cute?”
“I think they’re hideous,” I confess. “There’s no way I’m wearing that ugly shirt.”
“Then we’re getting them,” Ryan says while digging though the pile until he finds the sizes he’s looking for.
“I’m not wearing it,” I throw over my shoulder as he heads towards the bored girl to pay for the gaudy shirts, his laughter following him the entire way.
There’s also no hiding the smile on my face either.
Ryan takes my hand as we head towards another small waterfront shop in downtown Travelers End. This one houses small trinkets and souvenirs. Shark tooth necklaces, dolphin key chains, glass bottles with colorful sand; it’s all here.
Together, we make our way down the aisles of goodies, checking out a few knick-knacks along the way. Ryan is checking out brightly painted glass coasters, hoping to find a set he likes for Mrs. Hanson. I grab an intricately decorated seashell covered photo frame without Ryan noticing and slip up to the counter to pay for the souvenir.
“What did you get?” he asks as he slides against my back. His breath fans across the shell of my ear, his lips trailing a warm blaze of heat against the column of my neck. An instant shiver rakes through my body.
“I’m not telling,” I whisper as the cashier hands me my change.
“Is it a fish shaped spoon rest for the stove? I’ve always wanted one of those.”
“I’ll keep that in mind for Christmas,” I snort.
“I have ways of getting it out of you,” he mumbles as his lips caress the sensitive skin behind my ear. Suddenly, my breathing is shallow and my body on high alert.
“Your tactics hardly seem fair,” I respond as I slowly turn to face him.
His eyes are bright with lust and gleam with playfulness. “All’s fair in love and war, baby,” he replies, the corner of his mouth slightly curled upward.
Ryan keeps his eyes trained on mine as he slowly leans forward. I know what he’s thinking because I’m thinking it too. The moment our lips touch, it’s like the Fourth of July. Sparks fly as I wrap my hands around his neck and hold on. His kiss instantly turns possessive, consuming, with vehemence. Will kissing him always be this way? God, I sure hope so.
A loud throat clears behind me as we quickly pull apart. Red faced, I turn to face the man, who only moments ago, sold me the goods in my bag. Now, however, his eyes are diverted and refuse to make eye contact. I’m sure my cheeks are the same color of fuchsia as his.
Ryan chuckles behind me and places his purchases on the counter. Besides the floral painted coasters, he tosses a beach scene key chain on the counter. The name scrolled across the front in big gold letter catches my attention right away. Laughter bursts from my throat as I take in that single word.
“Um, Ryan?” I ask sweetly.
“Yes?” Ryan stuffs cash back into his money clip and places it in the front pocket of his shorts.
“That’s not how my name is spelled.”
Ryan leads me towards the front entrance. “I know that, but apparently these key chains only come in Jaime with an M-I-E, and since they don’t have one spelled with an I-M-E, I decided to go ahead and buy you the misspelled one. Jamie is still Jaime, right?”
“Except that it’s not spelled right,” I reply, fighting the smile threating to take over my face.
“Details. It still says Jaime, even if it’s spelled Jamie. And since it’s my favorite name in the whole world, I wanted to buy it.”
We step outside into the warmer sea air. “That’s a pretty big deal, favorite name in
the whole world.”
He stops and turns to face me. “It’s a huge deal. It’s not every day that I make a statement like this one,” he chimes in, dangling the misspelled key chain from between his fingers.
“Then I should fall at your feet in appreciation, shouldn’t I?” I step closer and grab ahold of the key chain.
“Dropping to your knees is unnecessary in public, sweetheart. Now, if we were…say, in private, I wouldn’t be opposed to seeing you do a little worshipping.” Ryan’s eyebrow arches suggestively and his grin is pure wicked intent. And, honestly, if the way my body is humming is any indication, I don’t think I’d mind showing Ryan a little appreciation for his two dollar misspelled key chain purchase.
Smiling sweetly, I snatch the key chain from his fingers and say, “I guess we’ll just have to wait until later and see.” He laughs as we turn, together, and head down the block.
Window shopping is exhausting when Ryan insists on stopping at most of the shops along the street. As we enter a store filled with handspun glass, my stomach growls. It’s loud enough that Ryan hears causing my cheeks to tint a flattering shade of pink.
“Last store and then we’ll head to our dinner reservation,” he says, checking the time on his watch.
I’ll admit, the glass and pottery in this place is beautiful. As we browse delicate vases, intricate glassware, and beautifully sculpted statues, we come upon a woman at the back sitting behind a pottery wheel.
“Good afternoon,” she says while running her wet hands along a clump of dark clay. Instantly, the glob of material starts to take shape. She continues to work her wet hands upward, forming a long cylinder.
Ryan and I stop and watch as she hums along to the tune in her head while sculpting what I realize is a candlestick. Her delicate little fingers mold the clay, cutting grooves and decorative cords within the wet material. When the stick takes shape, she places her finger in the top and works in a groove to hold the candle. After the candlestick is complete, she turns off the machine and admires her handiwork.
“That’s beautiful,” I say absently, smiling at the finished product.