by Claire Adams
“So, you came back because of pity?”
“No, it’s not pity. There’s affection and passion and a connection that I’d never thought possible. Worrying about somebody that you care about is perfectly natural. All of those things were already there before she came to see me.”
“This could happen again,” I said. “You could get scared that we’re moving too fast, and then you’d leave again.”
“I don’t know what’s going to happen in the future. What matters now is that you’re here with me, and we want to be together. For the moment, that’s enough. We’re both worriers, and we have to stop that. We can’t keep running ourselves ragged trying to hold everything together.”
“You’re right.” I trained my eyes on her. “I’m not mad at you.”
“You’re hurt, though. Why are you all dressed up?”
“It’s Rick, that guy I was at the bar with. He convinced me that the only way I was going to get over you was if I went out and found somebody.” I watched her closely, searching for a reaction. There was a quick jolt, but she recovered quickly. “I didn’t want to do it, and I told him no several times, but he kept pushing me, so I agreed. Then, when I finished getting ready, I texted to tell him that I couldn’t go because I was too upset. I knew I’d feel terrible when I found somebody, even if I was certain you’d never come back.”
Zoe got up from the couch and knelt in front of me. “Please don’t.”
“Never.” I pulled her closer and wrapped my arms around her. She laid her head down on my lap. I could hear her sniffing and feel her tears staining my jeans. I held her there as long as I could. “I can’t believe you’re real.”
“I feel the same way.” She looked up, smiling with tears streaming down her cheeks. “You’re not mad at me?”
“No, I don’t think I could be if I tried.”
“Good.” She stood up, bent down, and kissed me. “Let’s get you out of those clothes.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Zoe
I reached up to unbutton Archer’s shirt, slowly admiring his arms, studying the ridges, the little cliffs and mounds. They signaled hard work and fortitude, years of nothing but honing his mind and body. The result was the beast sitting before me, with his legs spread and his cock pressing against his fly.
He sat back and let me do the work this time. I was glad he did. It was my turn to prove my devotion. His wasn’t in question. I’d done something terrible, and I needed him to know that it wouldn’t happen again, that I wanted to be with him and spend every day trying to make up for pulling away. How could I not? He was such a good man. He’d never walk away from me, not after all the time that we’d spent together. A man like that was worth cherishing—worshipping.
I let him pull his shirt off so I could take in his monstrous form. I was going to memorize every part of him, every scar, every strip of ink, every fiber of his skin. I wanted to burn the image into my mind so that I could remember that this man was real. He cared, and he wasn’t leaving. If I forgot that, I’d take him for granted.
He pulled forward, lifted my chin, and pressed his lips to mine. Then, he grabbed me by the collar and threw me back. He crawled on top of me. It wasn’t about my body. It was the way I sighed when he pressed his tongue through, and the fluttering breath that left my lips when he pushed his hands under my bra so he could cup my breasts, flicking his thumb back and forth, back and forth, over my nipples.
His touch started a chain reaction. Every caress caused another shiver, adding fuel to the fire that spread out from between my thighs. He lifted my shirt up over my head and leaned down to kiss my neck, my chest, and my stomach.
He was already working on the clasp on my bra. It snapped open, fell off, and he feasted. One thumb still danced over my nipple while his tongue circled the other, moving faster and faster, kindling the blaze that got hotter every second.
I reached up to wrap my arm around his back, bracing myself against the heat from his breath, flowing down my body, covering my breasts. It was invigorating knowing that he would forgive me after what I’d done, and that he was so happy that I’d come back.
He moved his hands down my sides, then bit down on my lower lip. He’d been working on the button on my pants, and I’d barely even noticed. He rose up, pulled them off, and threw them beside the couch. I ran my fingers up his stomach, his chest, and his nipples. Archer laughed, low and deep. It was just what my body needed. The heat between my thighs was unbearable—desperate. Nothing could put out the wildfire growing inside me.
His fingers stroked my thighs, moving upwards, edging toward the spot between my legs. His eyes gazed down at me, studying the way I struggled to hold them together, thinking that I could contain the firestorm. He ripped them open and stared down at me.
“Wet and ready,” he said. He slid his finger over my lips.
The heat was excruciating, coupled with an incorrigible desperation. I tried to close my legs again, but he held them apart. “No,” he laughed. “Come here.” His breath poured in, his tongue soon after. Then he pressed my clit between my lips so he could dance his tongue over the tip.
His finger slipped through. He knew where to go now. There was no searching or fumbling around. He got right to the point, moved back and forth, all while licking around my clit. It became a game to him. He matched the movements of his finger and tongue together, moving them both to the same rhythm, faster and faster. I could see him smiling from between my legs.
The throbbing, the heat, and the wetness, all combined, created a torrent of sensations. That feeling moved of its own accord. There was no way I could stop it. I didn’t want to, but I wasn’t sure I could take the shock.
Archer pulled his head up and pinched my clit. “O-o-o-h,” I moaned. Whatever it was that had been growing inside me took hold. It reached out from between my thighs, sending the heat exploding outwards in every direction. I stared up at Archer. He was watching it play out while he stroked his now exposed dick.
He pulled it up and rested it on the space between my lips. Then, with a laugh, he slapped it down hard. The heat rose up again as if it’d never dissipated. “You ready for a second round?” he asked.
I nodded my head.
“If you think you can take it.” He pressed the head of his cock through, then pulled it back out.
“Hey.” I pushed forward to take it in.
He pulled back and slapped his dick down. “Ah.” I jolted up.
“Atta girl,” he laughed.
“Do it.”
“You want me to?”
“Put it in me.”
“Okay.” He pressed his cock through a little further, this time deep enough to get my body pulsing, then pulled it back.
“What are you doing?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He slapped his dick down again.
“Jesus.” My whole body shot up. He slammed in, slipping deep, past my lips, through to my spot, then back again, always returning back to the place that sent sparks flying through me. His movements, once a consistent wave, became a powerful force, full of passion and careful devotion.
He rested his eyes on mine, digging deeper and deeper, in and out, never once stopping to catch his breath. I pushed into it, hoping to get a reaction out of him. He responded by grabbing my ankle with a roar and lifting it up.
“Ah.”
He hit my spot hard and a sphere of warmth burst out. He wasn’t done, though, and neither was I. He was closing in, his lips pressed to mine while his hips swung up and down, faster now, and with a force that I’d never felt before.
He was claiming me, and I was giving myself to him. We melded together, our bodies and minds intertwining. The moment was coming. I could feel that circle of warmth starting to grow. It became a fireball, scorching flesh and bone, met with a burst of pressure that fueled us both on.
He slipped deep and a stream of hot wetness filled me up, quenching the fire, turning it into a rush of power—blis
sful, succulent, and overpowering. I wasn’t me any longer, and he wasn’t him. The energy between us had changed all of that. We were the pleasure that was flowing through us.
He stood up and swept me off my feet so he could carry me into the bedroom. We laid down together, and I rested my head against his. The moment felt sacred, like we’d finally let ourselves get close to each other for the very first time.
“I’m sorry that I pulled away from you, Archer.”
“Don’t ever apologize,” he said.
“No, I mean it.” I sat up to look at him. I couldn’t help but kiss his gorgeous face. “I decided something.”
“What’s that?”
“You can’t get rid of me.”
“I should hope not.”
“That’s not what I mean. I’m staying here with you. I want to go get some clothes from the apartment so I don’t have to leave again.”
“You don’t need clothes.” He kissed me.
“Maybe not, but what would Mona say?”
“We’ll worry about that in the morning. You’re stuck in bed with me where you belong.” He closed his arms around me, holding me steady while I listened to the sound of heart pounding against my ear. I started to get caught in the rhythm, pulled in by his breath, and I felt myself drifting off.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Archer
I once heard a story about a Chinese emperor who was lying down with his lover resting on his shoulder. He was so entranced by the way she looked that he couldn’t stand to wake her up, but he had business to take care of in court. He cut off his sleeve so that his lover wouldn’t get startled awake by his departure. That’s exactly how I felt when I woke up next to Zoe.
I slid my arm out from under her and stood up quietly so I could get my phone from the nightstand. It was early enough that I could get things ready before she woke up. I called the wait staff.
“Bueno?” the voice on the other end of the phone said.
“Hey, Leti. Do you think you could bring up a platter of strawberries when you get a chance?”
“Sure, is there anything else?”
“A bowl of hot fudge and the best champagne we have. Leave it outside the room, please.”
“Mmm.” She giggled. “You’re having fun today.”
“I refuse to comment on that. Where are you?”
“In the living room, cleaning.”
“When you’re done getting the food, go on back to the guest house and get some rest. I won’t need you for the rest of the day.”
“Thank you, Mr. Archer. You are a wonderful man.”
“No, thank you, Leti.”
I hung up the phone. Zoe was still sleeping, and I didn’t feel like going anywhere, so I crawled back into bed until I heard the sound of Leti bringing up the cart. The noise must’ve woken up Zoe because she was smiling. I hopped up, wrapped a robe around my naked body, and pulled the cart into the room. I set it at the foot of the bed. Then I sat on the bed so that I faced Zoe with my legs open. I wanted to be the first thing she saw when she opened her eyes.
She grabbed the base of my cock and it went stiff. “What are you doing, hmm?” Her palm slipped over the shaft.
“Nope.” I pulled away and dipped a strawberry in chocolate. She propped herself up and opened her mouth so I could feed it to her. When she bit down, tiny drops of rose colored juice burst out.
“Oooh,” she sighed. “That is exactly what I needed.”
“There’s more.” I reached up to get another, but she stopped me. “What was that for?”
“It’s my turn,” she said.
“No, it’s isn’t.” I darted for the bowl, but she was faster. She had the strawberry dripping with hot fudge before I could get to one.
“Come here,” she said.
I opened my mouth obediently, and she pressed the strawberry between my lips. I took the sweet, tangy juice, and relished the dark, sultry taste of the chocolate. She was already going back to grab another when I opened my eyes. When she reached out to give it to me, I took it out of her hand and slipped it into her mouth.
“We should do this every morning,” she said and laid back against her pillow.
“I highly agree.” I laid down next to her and walked my fingers down her stomach.
She stopped me. “I want to see the boys.”
“You do?”
“Yeah, we’ve never had a day with just the four of us. I want to start bonding with them.”
“What should we do?”
“Anything and everything. Whatever comes to mind, just so long as I get to hear you guys laugh.”
“It is really cute the way they are both trying to start walking now.” I said.
“They’re always cute, even when they cry.”
“I wonder what they’ll be like when they get older,” I mused.
“I think they’ll be vibrant, golden boys, then strong young men with integrity and discipline, just like their father.”
“But they have to have that mean edge.”
“Rough, not mean—never mean.”
“Of course, and some style. Not like all those preppy rich boys you see walking around dressed like they’re about to board a yacht. And no shopping trips in Monaco.”
“Don’t forget croquet. They can’t even watch movies with croquet.”
“We’ll cover their eyes like it’s a titty scene.”
Zoe laughed. “I’m going to get dressed. You get Mona to drop them off.” She started to get up.
“Wait.” I pulled her back down and kissed her. “Now you can go.”
Zoe hopped in the shower, and I dialed Mona’s number.
She answered the call without even saying hello. “I don’t care how depressed you are,” she said immediately. “I’m not bringing them home.”
“Depressed?” I was confused for a moment. Things had changed so much since yesterday. I almost forgot what it was like when Zoe was gone. I filled Mona in on what happened. Well, the clean version of what happened last night.
“She did it,” Mona gasped. “That darling angel. You want the boys? You sure you don’t want a little more alone time?”
“Yes, I’d like to see the boys. Please get down here as soon as possible.” I hung up and waited for Zoe to finish her shower.
Mona must’ve left right away because she arrived as soon as I was done getting dressed. “Knock, knock,” she said as she walked up to the bedroom door with her hands covering her eyes.
“Strawberry?” I motioned to the cart.
“Mm.” She pretended to think about it. “If you insist.” She pulled out a handful and started scarfing them down.
Zoe had been doing her makeup in the bathroom. She walked out smelling like vanilla. “Hey, Mona.”
“I’m so glad you’re here.” She popped another strawberry into her mouth and licked the chocolate off her upper lip. Then she ran forward and wrapped her arms around Zoe. “You did the right thing.”
Zoe patted her on the back. “It’s all your fault.”
“It is. I won’t lie. I’m just glad you had the sense to listen.”
“I am too. Listen.” She turned to where I was sitting on the bed. “I’m going to head down to my apartment and get some clothes real quick. I’ll see you in a few hours.”
“I’ll call you a driver.”
“That’s all right. My car’s in the garage. I won’t be long.” She kissed me on the cheek and walked out.
“Let’s go downstairs,” I said to Mona. “I’m making you chocolate chip pancakes.”
“Wonderful.” She followed me down into the kitchen and hopped up on a stool.
“How much do you owe on your house?” I pulled the box of pancake mix out of the cupboard.
“No.”
“A car?” I grabbed a mixing bowl and set it down on the island.
“No.”
“You’ve had that old thing since the nineties.”
“If I wanted a new one, I’d buy it myself.”
I opened a bag of chocolate chips and set it down on the counter just far enough away that she couldn’t reach it. She lunged forward to grab it, but I pulled it away. “Not unless you let me pay you back somehow.”
Mona pulled another bag out of the drawer next to her stool. “No.”
“Why not? You did something amazing. Heck, you’re always doing something amazing. I’m giving you a raise.”
“You pay me as much as a doctor. I have so much money, I’ll die before I can spend it all. You know I have a stock portfolio?”
“I was the one that had the company contact you.”
“They said I was on a phone list.” She poured the chocolate chips into her mouth.
“I wasn’t going to let you get away with taking care of those boys without a reward. You’re the only reason I’ve been able to manage for so long.”
She chomped down on the chocolate and swallowed. “I just want you to be happy. For an old woman like me, that’s gratification enough.”
I measured out the pancake mix and poured in some water so I could mix it up, then added the chocolate chips. “That and good food.”
“That too, but you matter more.”
“Thank you, Mona.” I turned toward the stove so she couldn’t see me blush.
Chapter Thirty
Zoe
The apartment was cold and dark. It was never really home. I’d taken the time to hang up paintings and buy little knick-knacks, but it didn’t have that lived-in feel. It was like a show home that real estate agents used to make a bad property look appealing. The furniture was too clean, the sink was dry and spotless. The counters were bare, and the carpet felt like it’d just been rolled out.
Archer’s house felt lived in. He stomped up and down the stairs, leaving a trail on the carpet, and the boy’s room was cutely decorated. Even the kitchen had character, and he rarely used it.
He gave my world substance and color. Every day was another adventure, another chance to feel my stomach flutter. I woke up excited, ready to work just so I could get to the end of the day and feel the goosebumps rise up my arms while I waited for his driver to pick me up.