by Bella Court
Her eyes closed, as his lips continued to worship her body. The top of her halter dress came loose, and he pulled the dress over her body. John came into her mind, the way they used to make love. He used to do this too, kiss the delicate bones of her collar. It drove her wild.
Pulling back, Connor looked at the gorgeous picture she made. Holy shit.
Connor couldn't take his eyes off of her. Her head was thrown back in passion, and her inky black hair spilled all over the white, silken pillowcases. Her slim body, the curves of her tiny waist, the way it flared into her wide hips were all too intoxicating. Her supple breasts pushed up against the constraints of her red lace bra, begging to be let free.
With a deprived moan, Kristen opened one eye, wondering what had happened. The spell was broken. It was no longer John who was playing with her–it was back to Connor. He was staring at her with hungry eyes, removing his clothes as fast as he could.
She could see him now. It would be so much easier for her fantasy if she couldn't. In the light, he was Connor, but in the dark…he could be anyone she wanted him to be. Reaching over, she practically pushed the bed lamp off her table in her fervor.
"Whoa, whoa. I like it in the light," Connor laughed at her frenzied state, leaning over her to turn on the light. But before he could make it, her hands reached up to caress his bare chest.
"I don't," Kristen whispered, pulling him down against her, wrapping her legs around him. "Yes,” she moaned, glad to feel him naked against her. Except that now she had her underclothes to deal with. She flung her bra away from her body, desperate to feel him against her. They groaned with pleasure, as her firm breasts pressed up against his chest. With his free hand, he traced the line of her panties. Red lace, if he recalled correctly.
Leaning down, he suckled on her nipple gently, slowly becoming more and more hardened as her cries empowered him. Her hands tangled in his hair, bringing him closer. His free hand, pushed past her underwear, two fingers slowly going into her.
Kristen cried out, as his fingers touched her gently. John, John! His face popped into her mind once more, and in the dark, she could believe that it was really him. John was making love to her. Her fantasy complete, her moans became louder, her actions became more frenzied, and her arousal was complete.
God, she was so perfect. She was tight and velvety; her skin was smooth and smelled of orchids. He had never been so aroused and sensitive to a woman, and her cries pushed him on. Her hands roamed over him, caressing his muscles. Finally, she couldn't take anymore.
"I want you. Please!" Her voice begged him, her hips squeezing and bucking wildly and desperately against him. With a feral groan, he took her flimsy lace underwear and ripped it away from her, exposing her intimate flesh to him. He paused for a second, trying to make out her face, wanting and needing to see how much she wanted him. Her hands reached up to touch him, and he cried out at her simple touch.
"I…want…you,” she repeated once more through ragged breaths. Unable to stop himself, he plunged into her, reveling in the glorious cry that came from her lips, the soft gasps that issued from her mouth and his as he moved inside of her.
He forced himself to start out slow, knowing that with her, he wanted it to last. Her pants told him he was doing everything right, and as her hands kneaded his back.
She cried out requests, as he complied, slowly moving faster and harder, thrusting into her, until his mind felt like it would explode. Her fingernails scraped against his back, her cries echoing off the walls. His back burned and his thighs strained as he pounded into her silken flesh, becoming tighter and tighter. Her fingers left marks on his back and thundered through him. He was almost there…
Climax like no other overtook him as her body contracted tightly against his, and with guttural cry of her name, he ground his feet into the mattress, pushing himself deeper inside of her. She was coming soon, she could feel it. Kristen moaned, urging him on.
"Yes. God, yes. John. I love you so much. John. John! John!" The name leaped from the walls as Connor stiffened on top of her. She was so close; almost there…what was the hold up? Panting heavily, Kristen hadn't realized her slip until it was too late.
"What did you say?" His tone was arctic. His eyes leapt out at her frighteningly in the dark.
"I-I meant…Connor." Kristen mumbled, too little too late. Connor scoffed, an angry laugh escaping from him. He pulled out of her; the powerful orgasm that had previously overtaken his body and the wonderful afterglow was fading away.
"Wait! Please! I didn't mean it. I'm delirious. Drunk!" Desperately, Kristen wrapped her legs around his waist, thrusting upwards. He had to finish.
"So this is why you wanted the lights off, huh? So it would be easier for you to fulfill your pathetic little fantasy." The light on her bedside table swept through the room, illuminating the two lovers with alarming clarity. Connor's face looked furious, his silvery eyes glinting dangerously.
"Look, what does it fucking matter? You have to make me come!" Kristen cried, her body still desperate for climax. She tried to thrust against him, but it was too late. With a push from his thighs, he pushed his way out of her legs with surprising strength, and Kristen cried out from shock of his aggressiveness.
He pulled on his pants, buttoning it up, and stopped, sending Kristen a glare of such venom that she actually recoiled from the look in his eyes. With surprising agility, he reached over to her and pulled her into a sitting position.
Cupping her chin tightly, he hissed at her, "It fucking matters to me, all right? I am not your little toy for you to fuck with and think that it's him. I can see why he left you now. You're selfish. No wonder he left you for Melissa."
His words were deliberately cutting, and it cut right through her. Before she could stop herself, she slapped him hard across his handsome face so hard his head snapped to the side.
"How dare you?" she demanded, feeling completely vulnerable. With a tug of her sheets, she covered her body, feeling shamed and infuriated at the same time.
"God, you're going to act like you have some shred of dignity, now? Why? Why did you tell me that you wanted to sleep with me when you just wanted a replacement for John?" He was raging now. She…she had used him as a replacement for his brother. God, they had been so good together, so perfect, and then the bitch had to go and ruin it all by yelling out John's name in her raspy voice.
Kristen was silent. What could she say? Guilt seared through her. She didn't think it through–that was all. She just knew that in her misery she needed some comfort, and Connor was it. She shrank from his gaze. Was that the same Connor who had held her so tightly moments ago, compassionately stroking her hair and whispering her name as they moved together as one? He didn't look it. His face was cool and composed, but his expressive eyes were another story. They sparked with anger, humiliation, and wounded pride.
"Well?" he demanded, buttoning his shirt, slowly covering up those tantalizingly sexy abs of his.
"What do you want me to say? Do you really want to hear me say that I needed you because I wanted someone who looked like John? Does that make you feel better?" Kristen snapped, still feeling antsy that she hadn't come to release and guilty over what she had done. Meekly, her eyes ventured upwards to meet his gaze, and she was startled to see a dark grin on his face. Involuntarily, Kristen shuddered. He may have looked like John, but none of the kindness and tenderness was there. He was cold and hard, and he was not the type to easily forgive.
"It does, actually. I don't appreciate liars, and I don't appreciate being used. Now that I know for sure, I'm glad that I got what I needed out of you." His eyes looked at her suggestively, assessing almost critically the small picture she made in her bed. He almost felt guilty, leaving her hanging like that. Almost.
Kristen scoffed at him, her head spinning. "So that's it, huh? You get your orgasm, but I don't get mine? Finish what you started. So I said his name instead of yours, you knew all along I'm still in love with him. Why'd you bother coming
in?"
Connor's smile was brilliant again. He flashed her a grin that contained no ounce of warmth, just pure coldness. "I know you love John, but for some strange reason, I actually believed when you kissed me that you wanted me for me. Hmm…perhaps because that's what you told me?"
Connor paused here, thinking to himself. He supposed it wasn't completely her fault. He was stupid for thinking that she would be sane after attending the wedding of her ex fiancée. Nonetheless, he had come into the apartment, with desire that he had never felt before, and she had sent it all crashing down with one simple word. He had actually believed her when she said she wanted him. God, he felt so stupid.
"You were stupid, then,” Kristen said callously. Her shame and foolish hold on her pride kept her from begging forgiveness for her cruelty.
"Maybe, but hell, at least I got some good sex out of it. You want me to finish what I started?" He stalked towards her, his steps heavy and deliberate. Even if she didn't want to admit it, he scared her. His power, strength, and his frighteningly silent anger. Soon, he towered over her, his hands hovering delicately over the white sheet she held to her body.
"Do you?" His words were softer, his hands like butterfly kisses, touching lightly here and there on sensitive points across her body through the sheet.
"Yes," Kristen breathed, panting heavily. He was so dangerous, but he… god…he knew just what to do to make her breathless. The way he was looking at her, the huskiness in his voice. The sensuous way he was caressing her through the sheet.
"Good. Because this is the closest you will ever come to having me again." He whispered in her ear, the same way she whispered in his at the beginning of the night. With one last erotic brush of his body against hers, he rolled off of her, and he left the room, carrying his jacket over his left shoulder.
The door clicked softly as he left her. With a small smile, she couldn't help but realize how dramatic and made for TV his exit had been. So why were their tears rolling down her face? She was left unfulfilled: spiritually, emotionally, and sexually.
Feeling worse than she had at the wedding, Kristen buried her face into the pillows and sheets where his scent still lingered, and she wept for all that was unfulfilled in her life.
Chapter Two
Connor made his way back to his own home in New York, not too far from where Kristen lived. Barely registering that it was nearing three on his clock, he sank into the velvet cushions of his couch, ignoring how pissed he was. Effortlessly, he sank into a thankfully deep sleep. Until the jarring ring of the phone woke him up from his blissful dream world back into the nightmarish confines of reality. Fumbling with his hands, he grabbed the phone from his side table and pushed it to his face.
"Who the hell is this?" Connor growled into the phone, rolling over.
"It's me, John. Did you go wild at my wedding last night or what? Where'd you go, Connor?" John's chipper and teasing voice was too much so early in the morning. With a groan, Connor covered his eyes with his free hand, blocking out the morning sun that beamed through the bay windows.
"John, it's too early for this. Gimme a call later," Connor slurred, about to hang up when John's laughter echoed through the other end.
"Too early? Connor, its like two in the afternoon. Damn, you really must have gotten drunk," John remarked, surprised that his usually meticulous brother was acting so…normal.
Two in the afternoon? Connor rubbed his eyes, running his hands over his jaw line where stubble was already beginning to grow. He barely listened while his brother rambled. Lifting himself off the couch, Connor stretched his cooped up limbs.
"Connor? What do you say, up for a game of ball before I have to go on my honeymoon?"
"Hmm? Yeah. I'll be there, give me half an hour." Hanging up the phone, Connor promptly stalked into his master bedroom. The darkness of the room leapt at him like a needy lover. Resisting the urge to just sink into his bed and ignore his brother, Connor walked like a zombie towards his closet, absently picking out a t-shirt and some basketball shorts. Flicking on the lights in his bathroom, the haggard man that looked back at Connor almost threw him off.
"Jesus," He muttered, turning on the sink faucet. His silver eyes were large and dilated, and the dark circles underneath his eyes made him look like a crack addict. His long wavy hair was tangled and stuck up every which way, and while he heard that the messy, bed head look was definitely sexy, his current bed head looked more homeless and crazy rather than messy chic. Deciding to shower later at the gym, Connor changed, ignoring the soreness in his back muscles. With one last critical look at his reflection, Connor left his apartment.
* * *
"Hey…Connor. I'm liking the look you're going for today. Homeless crack addict?" John joked, as Connor glowered at him.
"Let's just play ball, all right?" Connor snapped, grabbing the ball from his younger brother and doing a few dribbles to warm up. John shrugged, not at all fazed by his older brother's attitude.
"I guess. Don't you want to know how the rest of the night went after you mysteriously disappeared?" John deadpanned, instantly making Connor feel bad for leaving the wedding early. He was the best man, after all. And to leave the wedding for her…the thought made Connor want to rip something to shreds.
"What happened?"
"Aunt Lucy got drunk. What's a Wilde wedding if she doesn't get drunk, right? Ha, but really, you didn't miss much; I was just wondering where you went. Melissa and I didn't even see you leave." John's voice wavered slightly in the end. Connor was always doing that. Marching to the beat of his own drum, and even though he didn't say it aloud, John had hoped that his brother would have at least stayed the entire night. His presence meant so much to him.
"I…" Connor passed the ball to John as a distraction. He wanted to tell John, but how would that convo start off? Oh, I just left your wedding early, so that I could go sleep with your former fiancée who is still hung up on you and screamed your name while we were having sex. It was great.
"I just brought a girl home who was kind of drunk at your wedding, that's all. She wasn't feeling so hot, and I thought it would be the right thing to bring her home. Then afterwards, I was too exhausted to go back to the reception. Sorry, little bro," Connor offered as way of explanation and apology. It wasn't a lie. It just so happened that Connor left out some of the truth. John nodded his head, accepting his words.
"Really? Well, that was good of you. She must've been hot." John threw Connor a mischievous smirk, as he began to dribble the ball, both of them automatically knowing the game had begun.
"Come on, you can tell me the truth. Did you sleep with her?" John maneuvered around Connor, his footwork tight and clean. Connor was on him, however, blocking his way before he could get to the basket. Passing the ball from hand to hand, John caught the dark look that swept across his brother's face.
"I don't kiss and tell,” Connor said tightly, thinking to himself that yes, Kristen was hot. More than hot, she was stunning, but he'd be damned if he was ever going to tell her that.
With a swipe of his hands, he managed to take possession of the ball from John, who was too interested in the girl who had managed to catch Connor's interest. With a quick turn, Connor shot the ball, watching with satisfaction as it cleanly went through the rim.
"You should be more interested in the game rather than my business if you plan on ever winning," Connor teased, easily changing the subject. "So where are you two going for the honeymoon?"
"The next two heavenly weeks are going to be in Jamaica,” John said with a sigh, his eyes glazing over at the thought of Melissa.
"Two weeks? Kind of long, isn't it?"
"Me and Melissa work way too much anyway. And…you're going to make fun of me when I say this…but there's never going to be too long of a time when I'm with Melissa. It's always too short." John's tanned cheeks went slightly pink when he said this, and Connor couldn't help but feel a little jealous of his younger brother. He'd found his soul mate, and he looked genu
inely happy whenever he was around Melissa.
"So you're happy with her then?"
"Happier than I've ever been before,” John replied, moving past Connor's defense, and his hands were projecting to shoot the ball when Connor asked, "Happier than you were with that other girl?"
John lost his footing, and his hands shot the ball, but it missed the hoop completely. There was silence between the two brothers, as the ball rolled into the grass. John was panting slightly, his eyes alert and wary. Connor wasn't sure why he even bothered asking about Kristen. When he came back from Japan, his mother had filled him in on a bit of the back-story of how Melissa and John had met, but John, himself, had never spoken a word on the subject. Walking across the court, Connor retrieved the ball, tossing it to John.
"Forget the question,” Connor mumbled.
"It's a different kind of happy," John answered, ignoring Connor. With the back of his hand, he swept the sweat from his forehead. Kristen Satou. His ex fiancée. It hurt to think about her sometimes, but hell, his hurt was probably nothing compared to hers. He could still see that betrayed look in her eyes, the hurt, wounded look when she ran from the church with her wedding gown flying around her.
"With Kristen, I loved her, but there was always something missing. I always wanted more, she would never give me enough. I thought that when we got married, she would open up more, and let me into her life. That was a big mistake. Melissa…was her best friend, you know." John paused, swallowing.
"If you weren't sure, why did you ask her to marry you?" Connor asked critically. Even though she was malicious last night in her intentions, Connor could see where her pain came from. Being abandoned at your own wedding by your husband and your best friend couldn't have been an easy experience.
"I didn't know. I thought I loved Kristen, but when I met Melissa…God. That was when I knew that the love I had for Kristen couldn't compare to the attraction that I had for Melissa. Whereas Kristen is cool and composed, Melissa is completely out there. Melissa laughs, cries, and she shows emotion. With Kristen, I felt like I was dating a robot sometimes, and Melissa made me feel things I thought I couldn't ever feel again." John's guilt was beginning to rise, and he dropped the basketball, moving towards one of the bleachers instead.