The Everlasting Chapel

by Marilyn Cruise

  I think back to the office, and suddenly I wish I were back there so I could give him a private show. I turn around and lift my arms to the ceiling. Ever so subtly, he skims his fingers across my sides and abdomen, and then he lets his hands rest on my hips. I lean my head back onto his chest.

  “Feel how hard I am for you?” He presses himself against my ass, as he pulls my hips back. “Once I get you naked, I’m going to lay you on the desk, spread your legs wide open, and fuck you with my mouth so whenever I come in here, I’ll think of us.”

  Holy hell. He wants me in every part of his life. Work. Home. Play.

  “And after I’ve made you come, I’ll bury my hard cock inside of you, and make you moan over and over. And after I’ve been inside of you, my tongue will explore you again. Until finally, I’ll thrust into you so deep and so hard, you can’t help but scream my name.”

  Unable to wait a second longer, I turn around. I need him, and, shit, I need him now. I grab his arm and haul him with me back to the office.

  I slam the door behind us and lock it as I crash my lips to his. Forget the damn performance. Without even unbuttoning my shirt, he tears my blouse off so the buttons go flying through the room. With one clean sweep, he clears the desk, the papers and binders falling to the floor. He unbuckles his belt while I strip out of my pants and boots.

  He kisses me again, with so much passion, I feel like I’m going to come undone. His wicked tongue trails down my neck, and he lifts my breast out of my bra and puts it in his mouth, biting and sucking hard. Wrapping an arm around my waist, he hoists me up onto the desk, and with his mouth still on my breast, he moves my panties aside, and slips two fingers inside of the wet cleft between my legs.

  Oh… My head falls back when I succumb to a sudden and intense orgasm, a yelp rising up my throat as the explosion pulses through me.

  Letting go of my nipple, he unhitches my bra, and then he tears my panties off. Gently, he pushes me so I end up lying down on the large, cold surface. Not a second later, he has pulled me to the edge so my legs dangle off the side. He lifts my legs, holding them with his arms, and thrusts into me deep and hard, immediately setting a pace that has me rushing toward the peak again.

  Shit…

  He plunges into me again and again—a relentless, commanding pace, his fullness entering and exiting me with long, penetrating, slippery strokes.

  The desk presses unyieldingly to my back, but the pleasure he’s giving me is so much more intense than the uncomfortable surface. I arch my back to receive him more fully, and close my eyes as he claims me.

  “Look into my eyes, Scar,” he says, his voice gruff and strained. He lets go of my legs and grabs my hips. Placing one hand on my clit, he massages there, making me pant and moan.

  I flick my eyes to his, but close them as I approach another orgasm.

  “Open them,” he says again, fucking me harder.

  I force them open as he continues to slam into me.

  “Hey baby. I love seeing that face,” he says. “Who is giving you this pleasure?”

  “You are,” I gasp, feeling myself dripping wet.

  “Say my name,” he growls into my ear.

  His commanding, passionate voice drives me even higher. “Michael…Michael is.”

  Even though he’s ruthlessly thrusting into me, I notice how aware he is of me, how meticulous he’s planning each movement. His eyes are searching mine, looking for something, but also, eager and excited.

  “Oh…I love you,” I say.

  He offers me his hand and I take it. Pulling me up so I’m sitting on the edge of the desk, he coves my mouth with his as he bangs into me deeper and deeper, each magnificent shove another step toward my release.

  “You are so amazing, Scar. I can’t ever get enough of you,” he says.

  Oh, I’m there, I’m…I try to silence the cry that wants to come out, but I can’t. He thrusts into me harder, sending me over the top—a thousand electrified bursts taking possession of my body at once.

  He quickly pulls out and kneels in front of me. He places his hands on my knees, and presses his tongue firmly to my clitoris. Holy shit…Oh, God, his tongue…

  Fisting his hair, I lean my head back as he sucks on me, as his tongue twirls around and around, and as he gently tugs there. Without taking his mouth off me, he slips his thumb into my vagina and presses against the front wall, slowly circling around and around. With the other hand, he grabs my breast, and rolls my nipple with his thumb. My nipple grows hard at his touch, and as I feel myself rise again, I produce a staggered gasp.

  “Shit…” I say. “I need you…” Oh, oh… I rise a little higher as he sucks harder, as his thumb moves faster, harder, as his hand grips my breast. “Oh…” I let my head fall back as the orgasm thunders through me, the delicious spasms taking over my body.

  After he hears me scream, he yanks me off the desk, pulls me across the room, and then presses me against the door. His lips collide to mine and I taste myself on him. As I let my tongue encircle with his, he shoves inside of me again. My entire body is shaking. I don’t know if I can take anymore. As if sensing this, Michael lifts my right leg, hooking his arm underneath it, and pushes his chest against my breasts, pinning me to the door. As he starts to move, I tilt my hips forward to meet his, deepening the sensation. I place a hand on his shoulder to steady myself as he thrusts upward. His pace increases and he grunts in my ear.

  “Scarlett, baby. Oh, baby,” he says, delving into me, his eyes fixed on mine. His face and neck are tense, his mouth slightly open, his expression is agonized pleasure. Faster and faster, harder and harder he slams into me. I feel like my legs are useless wilted stems, and my entire body is humming, shuddering against his.

  I quickly come again, the release stealing every last ounce of energy out of me. “Michael, oh…God!” Right when I peak, he yells my name, pulling at my hips as he thrusts one last prolonged time into me.

  When I finally start to come down from my high, all I hear is the music in the background and our panting breaths. He kisses me again, slowly—sensually, his tongue lacing with mine in an erotic exchange.

  “I want to fuck you ever day for the rest of my life,” he whispers, still pinning me to the wall with his chest and hips.

  “I just might like that.” I run my fingers through his sweaty hair.

  He lifts an eyebrow. “Might. Like. That?”

  I smile. “I would absolutely love that,” I say, my body still trembling.

  He kisses the tip of my nose. “Are you okay?”

  “Yes.”

  “You’re shaking.”

  “I believe that’s where the term ‘earth-shattering orgasm’ comes from,” I say with a laugh, leaning my forehead to his.

  He smiles a little, his eyes lighting up. “Yeah, it was pretty good, wasn’t it?”

  Now it’s my turn to give him a hard time. “Pretty good?”

  He chuckles, and then eases out of me. “Fucking amazing, as always.”

  After I clean up with some paper towels, I pick up my clothes from the floor. I frown when I see that I can’t close my shirt. All the buttons are gone.

  “Here,” he says, handing me a black ‘The Fountain’ T-shirt.

  “You’re not going to apologize for ruining my shirt?” I ask.

  “No. I don’t regret it one bit. It was worth it.”

  I smile. I’d have to say I agree.

  15

  I go to see Anne first thing in the morning. The swelling in her face has gone down even further, and the bruises on her cheeks and forehead are turning purple and blue. The second I walk in the door, she informs me they were able to get samples of her attackers blood. She had dug her fingernails into his arms.

  I try to get Anne to open up about her emotions, but she refuses to talk. She must be suffering emotionally, but she’s put on this brave, calm front, and refuses to let me in even just a little. She probably needs time to process everything, but I’m afraid if she keeps it in for
too long, the wounds will harden to deep, indelible scars. As a friend, I feel completely helpless, unable to ease any of her pain.

  Before I leave the hospital, I briefly talk to Spencer about my concerns. He says that under no circumstance should I force Anne to open up. If I do, she might push me further away and it could even cause her further stress. He assures me I’m doing the right thing, and urges me to continue to show my support in every way I can. Be more loving. Be available if she wants to talk, and above all, be patient. But it’s also important I treat her the same way I did before and refrain from looking at her as if she’s damaged or broken.

  My concern is that she never truly opened up to me about the time she was raped. I feel horrible for not having been more sensitive and just naïvely assuming she had healed completely. But after reading online about what happens to the victims of assault, it seems they never fully recover. That completely breaks my heart.

  With a heavy heart, I head home to spend some time with my father. He’s feeling better today, and I even convince him to go to the mall with me to pick out some new clothes. I give Vivian the day off, and just let her know she needs to be back by five o’clock so I can get ready for the celebratory ball tonight. Meeting Michael’s ex-fiancé, Alexa, has been at the back of my mind the entire week, but now that the day is here, I actually find that I’m dreading it.

  After having purchased a half a dozen outfits for my father, I drive him home and head to Michael’s house to get ready there. With so many dresses hanging in the closet, he still felt the need to go buy me a new gown.

  “When I saw it, I immediately knew you had to wear it tonight,” he says, his eyes alight with excitement as he hands me a garment bag.

  “Really?” I’m anxious to see what type of a dress he wants to see me in, especially since it will be the first time I meet Alexa and his business partners. I unzip the bag, and inside I find a gorgeous, purple chiffon gown. The strapless, crystal-speckled top has a drop waist and crisscross pleating. The skirt is shirred and starts to flare right below the hips, and there’s a thigh-high slit that will show off my long legs.

  “And,” Michael says, holding up a flat, white box. “This is a family heirloom. My great-great grandmother received it as a gift from Queen Victoria of England.”

  I feel my eyes widen a tad. I open the box, and inside is a four-row pearl choker with diamond studded vertical bars. The octagonal clasp in front is a large amethyst surrounded by two rows of diamonds.

  “This necklace will eventually be yours,” he says.

  “What do you mean?” I ask.

  “Well…you now, when we get married…” he says.

  My stomach flurries. “How do you know I’ll say yes,” I tease.

  “Well, I guess I’ll have to wait to see what your answer is after I ask you. Give you a few more orgasms between now and then…you’ll be begging me to ask you.”

  I punch him in the arm. “I will not.”

  In one swift move, he sets the necklace down onto the bed, throws me onto the mattress, and gets on top of me. Pushing my hands into the mattress, with his knee massaging between my legs, he kisses me slowly. He keeps rubbing his knee against my clit, and completely against my will, my hips start to move and press against him.

  Damn body. You are not being very helpful here!

  “You tease,” I say, angry with myself for being unable to resist his advances. It’s already as if he owns me in every way, heart, body, and soul, and it scares the shit out of me. Being this vulnerable can’t be good.

  My heart rate is suddenly through the roof, and when his nose encircles mine, and as he presses himself against me, I gasp.

  “This is your punishment for hitting me. I want you to think about me all night long. While I’m talking with other women. While I get you a drink. While I dance with you. You won’t be able to resist, and you’ll beg me to bury myself inside of you.”

  “I will not,” I say, although my body’s already pleading with me to beg him to take me.

  He licks his fingers, squeezes them into my jeans and panties, thrusts two fingers inside of me, and quickly finds my G-spot. I arch my back from the sudden pleasure. Why, body, why?

  “I…I…won’t,” I say.

  “We’ll see.” He pulls his fingers out, releases me, and then he’s off to go get dressed.

  I’m left breathless on the bed, squeezing my thighs together as I quietly curse him for bringing me so high without giving me my release. Is this how it’s going to be if we stay together? Wow. I’ll never grow tired of his advances, of his cockiness when it comes to his own sexuality, or from being with him in the most intimate of ways. If this is how it’s going to be, I need to up my game—find a way to get back at him.

  “And don’t you dare try to get back at me. Because your next punishment will only be so much worse,” he yells from his closet.

  Sexy, paranoid prick.

  * * *

  As our limo joins the long line of others, I catch a glimpse of the gray stone mansion. Alexa’s home is nothing short of outrageous. The abode is set on a huge lot and has three floors, two verandas, two chimneys, a fountain in front of the entrance, and tall, arching windows.

  Michael leans over. “I have to tell you, you look absolutely stunning in that dress. I can’t wait until we’re home again so I can tear you out of it.”

  He’s going to take advantage of his power over me to the max, isn’t he…“You don’t look so bad yourself,” I say. In reality, ever since we left his house, I’ve wanted to get him out of his tux and get busy in here. If it weren’t for the chauffeur…

  When our limo pulls to the front, a valet opens our door and guides us to the mahogany stained-glass inlaid double doors. Stepping into the foyer, I first notice the black and white diamond-checkered floor and the colossal crystal chandelier. From here I see four sets of white marble stairs leading to the second and third floor, and there’s a living room to the right.

  One of the servants takes our coats, and we’re ushered down the foyer and into a wide hallway. The walls have modern pieces of art on them and silver sconces, and there are plenty of fresh floral arrangements on the mirror-inlaid console tables.

  Arriving in the ballroom, I tighten my grip around Michael’s arm. Hundreds of people are here tonight, and unfortunately for me, I recognize many of them from Diane’s Christmas party. I just hope everyone doesn’t start asking questions. Our divorce was so public, and since Diane aired our little Christmas rendezvous to everyone and their mother, I have a feeling my attendance here won’t go unnoticed. I suppose I didn’t realize the event would be this big, thinking it was a smaller company ball with just business partners.

  Suddenly I find that I’m a little—okay, extremely—upset with Michael for not having warned me about this. I’m about to open my mouth when I hear a woman call Michael’s name. I turn around, and see two bright blue eyes staring at me. The woman’s long, wavy hair is a shiny, platinum blonde, and she has a body that looks like she paid for it. Boobs included. Tearing her eyes away from mine, she focuses on Michael.

  “Michael,” she says, kissing him on the cheek. “Darling. I didn’t realize you were going to bring a date. Would you introduce me to the sweet little thing?”

  Sweet little…thing? I don’t like her already, and I’ve only spent three seconds with her.

  “Scarlett, meet Alexa. Alexa, this is Scarlett,” he says.

  Of course.

  “The Scarlett?” She gasps, and her already large eyes widen. “You look so different in person. Thinner.”

  Referring to how she’s seen me in the media, I assume.

  “My, you are quite the naughty little angel, aren’t you?” She laughs way too loudly.

  “Alexa,” Michael snaps.

  “Sorry, dear,” she says. “It’s just so exciting to finally meet the woman who managed to nearly give Diane a heart attack.”

  I smile. A little. She is cruel.

  “Thank you for bring
ing that up,” Michael says through clenched teeth.

  “Well, you two aren’t dating again, are you? I mean, it was all a façade as I understand,” Alexa says, touching Michael’s elbow.

  First of all, hands off my man. Second, Michael hasn’t told her about us? I dig my fingernails into my palms. Why wouldn’t he have told her? Has he told anyone other than his staff? I wish I had stayed at home.

  “This is hardly the time, Alexa,” Michael says. “Please excuse us.” He takes me by the arm, and walks us toward the bar. “Can I get you something to drink?”

  “A glass of wine is fine,” I say, still wondering why he wouldn’t just tell her outright that we are dating. Is he ashamed of me? Afraid what his high and mighty business colleagues might say? Because they would probably eventually figure out that I worked as a stripper. I narrow my eyes as I watch him head over to the bar. His ass sure looks great in those pants, but I am not thinking about it. Not. At. All.

  Returning, he has this brooding expression. What is the matter with him? He doesn’t have anything to be mad about—I do.

  He hands me my glass.

  “Thanks,” I say.

  “Are you alright?” he asks. “You look upset.”

  “I’m fine,” I answer, not wanting to ruin his big night. We can talk about this later. Here is definitely not the appropriate place.

  “Let me introduce you to some of my partners.” Taking my arm, he leads me over to an elderly, but spunky, silver-haired man and a young woman with her arm around his. She looks like she could be his granddaughter, but I won’t say anything, thinking she could be his wife, too. And especially since it looks like she might be expecting, although it’s too early to tell, and I don’t want to say anything just in case I’m wrong.

  Wow, I so do not fit in here.

  “Ross, I’d like for you to meet Scarlett,” Michael says. “Scarlett, this is Ross, my senior business partner and his lovely wife Julie.”

  I’m really glad I kept my mouth shut. Now I’m just trying to keep a relaxed smile on my face and keep my eyes from widening. “Pleased to meet you,” I say.