by Desmond Haas
“Mia Bella, Mia Bella! My wife, remember my wife,” he said.
“I’ll kiss her too. When did you get here?”
“But a few hours ago. I’ve been in there,” he pointed over his shoulder to the kitchen, “comparing recipes with Monsieur Ponds, the chef.”
“I’m so happy to see you, and I don’t think I ever really thanked you for what you’ve done for me.”
“For you? No, I did it for Sam,” he said, winking.
We sat down to a lovely meal and conversation. Sam had arranged for all of us to have a private room, and I took some time to look around, seeing all of our friends happy and talking with each other. Sam turned towards me to answer Trent’s question, who sat behind me. I gazed at Sam’s face, taking in how much more animated he was. Innocently, I reached over to push a lock of his hair off his forehead and suddenly realized everyone had stopped to look at us.
“You’re absolutely beautiful,” Sam said. He leaned over and kissed me, which got a cheer from our friends.
The dinner lasted well into the evening, most of our time spent on catching up with each other. My dad and I took a little walk to have a private moment. As we walked, he took my hand and gave it a squeeze now and then, until he stopped to talk with me.
“You look happy here, but I’ve missed you.”
“I am happy, and now that Sam is getting better, maybe we can visit once in a while.”
“He’s an alright bloke, your man is. I like him.”
“I love him, and he’s the reason I’m happy.”
We walked and talked for a few more minutes and went back to the table, where I walked up to Sam and put my hands on his shoulders. He looked back at me, took my hand off one shoulder and pulled me around, as he wheeled himself away from the table so I was in front of him.
“Did you get what I asked for?” Sam asked Trent, who nodded. Sam took something from him, then looked up at me, smiled, and opened the box, where I saw a solitaire diamond ring. He took it out of the box.
“Marisa Seaforth, would you do me the honor of marriage and be my wife?” he said.
Stunned, I stood with my mouth open, not comprehending.
“Honey, I need your answer and, by the way, I asked your dad. He’s willing to give you to me, but only if you say yes.
“Yes, yes, yes…and yes!”
He slid the ring on my trembling finger.
“By the way,” Sam said, “we are going to do this tomorrow, while everybody is in town. Is that okay with you?”
“Anywhere—anytime,” I cried. I couldn’t believe the ring and kept looking at it and then knelt down to hug and kiss Sam.
All of us went into the lounge to celebrate. Dad looked at the shelf behind the bar and said, “Is there any brand they don’t have?”
Sam rolled up near him. “Dad, pick anything you want, we’re celebrating.”
That started an hour of congratulations, hugs and more than a few drinks. Trent satisfied himself with water, refusing to drink, so he could drive. The rest took cabs back to their residences and Dad to his hotel. He said he was tired after the overseas flight and needed some sleep.
All the way home, I kept bringing the ring up to my eye, not only to look at it, but also trying to comprehend the full impact of what happened. I stepped from the van and waited for Trent to help Sam out.
Sam took my hand, looked up at me, and said, “I love you.”
He and I just looked at each other, and I still didn’t realize I was really his fiancée until Trent called me from the front door.
“Mrs. Anderson. Are you going to roll that husband of yours in here or should I?
Later, Sam and I lay in bed talking, and I asked him where he got the ring.
“I bought it almost a year ago and was on my way to pick it up…when the truck hit me.”
“When were you going to ask me?”
“Originally?”
“Yes.”
“I wanted to ask you as soon as I got back to London. I had it all planned out up here,” Sam said, pointing to his head. “Until you and Linda knocked some sense into me; it wasn’t on my mind until recently. However, the past few weeks with you have been some of the best we’ve had, including those torrid London weekends. I’ve been looking at you with new eyes, and I can’t see me with anyone else. There’s no one else I want.” He shrugged his shoulders.
“This dinner was all a ruse?”
“Well…yeah, I guess you could say that. I needed to plan it so I could get everyone here, including Carlo and your dad.”
“Dad likes you, you know.”
“I do know. We talked. He and I have something else working. As soon as the legal issues are settled, I’m taking you to London and Paris for our honeymoon. It may not happen tomorrow, but we’ll do it as soon as possible. We’re going to take a little of the settlement money and buy an attached home—a duplex for him.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“We…it’s ‘we’ now, not me or you. And, yes, we have to do that so we have a place to stay when we visit.”
I pulled my shirt over my head, took off my panties, and turned out the main light, leaving a soft glow coming from the bathroom. Naked, I lay next to Sam, turned towards him, and drew rings around his nipples.
“I love you,” I said, leaning down to give Sam a quick kiss. He pulled me back for another, deeper kiss, holding the back of my neck to bring me to him.
I turned more in Sam’s direction, and he towards me, running his hand down my side, over my hips and back, ending with his hand against the side of my breast, his thumb caressing the nipple.
In return, I gently rubbed his chest and moved my hand down over his stomach, knowing exactly, as lovers do, where he likes to be touched and knowing, all too well, the demarcation of his paralysis.
Sam slowly glided his hand lower, past my bellybutton and gently over my mons. My heart beat faster, anticipating his fingers sliding over my crease and penetrating my vulva. My breaths quickened, wanting to be touched, wanting my Sam, anxious to feel his fingers, wet with my juices. I spread my legs further apart, signaling to him. The air scented with our sex, my senses hyper-vigilant, I wanted everything.
I moved my hand over Sam’s stomach, knowing he likes the touch. I kissed him deeper, drawing his tongue into my mouth and holding it but a second, waiting for him to bring mine inside his.
Not only was my pussy wet, but also the tops of my thighs. I love the feeling of my Sam inserting his fingers and slowly rubbing small circles inside me, wanting him to go deeper, wanting him to go faster—wanting him. I slid my hand over Sam’s belly, across and under the demarcation marked by the elastic band of his pajamas.
As I glided lower over his skin, Sam’s hands suddenly stopped, and he pulled his mouth away raising himself up on an elbow and forearm.
“Sam, what’s the matter? Why did you stop?”
“Turn on the light and look,” he said. “Look at my pajamas.”
I turned on the light, looked at him and saw him smiling. “Not my face—look at my pajamas.”
I turned my head and for a minute, I didn’t notice anything unusual and then I saw what had Sam’s attention and then mine.
“Is that what I think it is?” I asked.
“Take them off. I want to see.”
When I took off his pajamas, I saw the best erection I’ve ever seen, and I wrapped my hand around it.
“I…I can feel you,” Sam said in a shaky voice. “I can feel you. Do something. Move your hand over it, stroke it, just do something.”
I slowly stroked his cock, reveling in the touch. Knowing immediately what I wanted to do, I got up and brought over some supplies, removed Sam’s catheter and washed him, making certain I kept him aroused the entire time.
“Sam, can I?”
“Anything. Do anything. I want to feel you.”
I got back up on the bed. Leaning over, I slid my lips over the top of his cock and ran my tongue around the head.
“I can feel your mouth and tongue. I can feel everything!”
I slipped his cock deeper in my mouth—my emotions going into overdrive—reclaiming that which I thought was lost. Tears clouded my eyes, making it difficult to see Sam’s beautiful face. All the last difficult months were falling away.
I wanted to make him come. I wanted him to feel the pleasure he’s given to me. Cupping his balls, I quickened my pace, waiting for him to fill my mouth. I wanted to taste my Sam.
“Stop,” he says. “Please stop.”
“What do you want?” I asked. “I’ll do anything you want.”
I wiped the tears from my eyes and saw Sam looking at me with the same eyes he’d used to claim me back in London.
“I want us to make love,” he whispered.
All I could do was nod my head as I put one of my legs across his hips. Holding his cock, I lowered myself onto him, taking him inside me. I rocked my hips and started moving up and down on him, while I used my hands on his chest to brace myself.
Sam reached down, took my wrists in his hands and pulled me towards him so we could kiss. I stopped for a minute, held still, laid my head on his shoulder, realizing the feel of him inside me and enjoyed his hands gliding over my back and over my ass.
We used to lie this way in London, treasuring the sensations we gave by rubbing our hands over each other. Then I felt his cock moving slowly back and forth, as he used to do, enough to remain hard, but not enough to hurry our lovemaking.
I sat up and stared at him. He could move his hips. He was; I could feel him, and he could feel me. Even though the movement was small, it aroused me immediately. Without words, we both moved our hips, and my stomach tightened, the coil wound, and I knew I was going to come. Sam knew it as well.
He moved quicker, and his thrusts were deeper, pushing against my clit, pushing me along the wave, taking me along with him. Nothing existed but the two of us as we quicken our lovemaking. I see the sheen on his face and feel the sweat on his body and mine.
“Oh, God,” I cried, as my legs start vibrating, my stomach tightening more.
“Come for me, baby.”
My body demanded release. I wanted to come, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t push myself over the top. I ground my clit against Sam, hoping it would help me, my arms shaking, needing, needing, needing…
I feel Sam’s cock expand as he thrusts deep into me and time stopped for that one brittle period, an eternal calm. He pulsed, and his cum explodes inside me. His spurts and the spreading warmth triggered me.
“Oh God, Sam…Sam…Hold me!” I yelled, my cum bathing our sex, flowing out between Sam and me. I lost control, my pussy clenching Sam’s cock. I fell on top of him, my legs vibrating, clutching his chest and for a few seconds, I couldn’t breathe.
Somewhere, I feel Sam rubbing my back and hear his voice, but I can’t understand the words. Slowly, my eyes focused and the trembling subsided, but the emotions are too powerful. I sob, tears flowed, and I put my arms around Sam’s neck, holding him near me.
“I love you,” he says.
“I know, and I love you.”
Sam’s cock slipped from me, and while I felt the loss, it was replaced by intense emotions, brought on by where we’ve been and what we’ve come through. I never thought I could love this man any more than I did. I was wrong.
I didn’t want to move from where I was, lying on top of him and feeling him gently glide his hands over my back.
“Sam?”
“Yes?”
“I’m not on the pill any more. My prescription from London lapsed, and I haven’t seen a doctor here. I didn’t think I needed to.”
“That’s okay. Don’t worry about it.”
“Do you want a baby?” I ask.
“You mean a Sam Junior?”
“Yeah, a Sam Junior or a Samantha. Do you want one?”
“At least one. What about you?”
“I can’t wait to see you changing diapers.”
“You’ll have to teach me,” he said.
“Hold me…I want to feel your arms around me. Hold me tight.”
“I have you, baby. I’ll never let you go.”
The End
About The Author
Desmond Haas lives in upstate New York, USA, where he hides himself from his family, two dogs and five cats, and pounds on a keyboard to try and make sense of the words and images in his head. Writing, he says, is an invisible performance art.
He considers himself to be a renaissance man, stuck in time, working with various media, including photography, to express himself. While most of his book and short stories are contemporary erotic romance, he is secretly working on other genres in his underground lair.
Above this lair, he lives with his wife, two teenagers, two large dogs and five cats. As he is a reverse snow bird from Florida, Desmond relishes the four season climate, but hates cleaning the snow off his car in the winter.
Desmond Haas / [email protected]
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