“I’m not thirsty right now.”
“Neither am I.”
He scratches his beard. “Do you want to talk some more?”
I shake my head. “I don’t think so.”
“We could play Scrabble.”
Right. Because that’s what I want to do right now.
“Maybe another time.” I step closer, and my chest almost grazes his stomach through the inconvenient layers of his suit. His eyes drop to my cleavage. I wore a V-neck tonight for a reason. “Are you going to kiss me?”
He swallows. “Do you want me to?”
“I think it would be a good idea.”
“Me, too.”
He’s tentative until I press into him, bringing us together. Then he cups the back of my head with his palm and lays one on me. It’s all tongue and teeth and aggression.
We stand in his foyer for a good ten minutes, mouth fucking with abandon. It’s the same, but it’s different. So much has changed between us since the last time we were together.
But he’s still Alex, and I’m still Violet. He’s already got his hand inside my shirt. At the same time, he’s trying to shed his suit jacket and carry me to the stairs. In a rare moment of ungracefulness, he trips on the first step and we land in a heap. The intensity of the moment broken, I laugh against his lips.
He pushes up on his arms, his eyes are wild, chest heaving. “Do you want me to stop? Should I stop? Am I moving too fast?”
I shake my head and pull him back down by his tie. “Don’t stop kissing me.”
“Fucking hell, I’ve missed you so much.”
With an arm around my waist, Alex drags me up the stairs while keeping his mouth fused to mine. The coordination to do this is astounding. I keep bumping my elbows on the stairs along the way. The only reason my head is safe is because Alex is cupping the back of it. He pauses at the top of the landing, apparently unable to wait until we’re in the privacy and comfort of his bedroom.
His tie is tossed aside, followed by my shirt. Alex moves on to his shirt, flicking the buttons open. In the meantime, I struggle uselessly with the clasp of my bra, incapable of getting it open despite having done this every damn day for the past ten plus years.
My chest is in Alex’s face, so he slides two fingers into the front of my bra between my boobs. Then he yanks, hard. One strap ricochets off the railing.
“What the hell?” I ask because, well, what the hell? This is a brand new bra.
“I’ll buy you another one. I wanted it off.” His mouth descends over one glass-cuttingly hard nipple, and his palm covers the free one.
He groans, and squeezes, and gropes, and sucks, and groans some more. I throw my head back and bang it on the railing when he uses his teeth.
Alex looks up. “You okay?”
I moan in response.
“God, you’re sexy,” he says around my nipple, hard-pressed to give up making out with it, I suppose.
“You know what’s sexy?” My voice comes out raspy and low. I’m working on sounding sexified, not like I have emphysema.
“Mmm?”
“You, half-naked.”
“You think?” He stands and pulls me up with him.
“You know what’s even sexier?” I ask as he picks me up and carries me down the hall.
“You naked?”
“No. You naked.”
As soon as he sets me down on the bed, I frantically unbuckle his belt and yank his pants off.
The monster cock springs free, nearly taking out my eye. I sigh as I touch the hot skin. “I missed you so much.”
“Are you talking to me or my dick?” He looks mildly offended but mostly entertained.
“Both.” I lift my gaze. “But mostly you above the waist.”
Cocky smile aside, his relief is obvious. He traces the curve of my bottom lip. “I should hope so.”
I slide my hand up his chest, hook my palm around the back of his neck, and crane to reach his lips. “I missed every part of you.”
Alex’s body is suddenly pressed flush against me, his lips on my neck. I turn my head to give him better access and am distracted by one of his jerseys hanging on the footboard. I shouldn’t notice things like this while Alex and I are busy getting our freak on, but it’s red.
“You won the Stanley Cup tonight,” I murmur.
“Mmm, we did,” Alex says. He doesn’t take credit for the win. He’s such a team player.
“You scored the winning goal.” I run my hands over his shoulders and down his back, as I circle my hips. My damn pants need to come off.
“Does that make you hot?” His eyes light up in the most devilish way.
“Everything about you makes me hot. Watching you play makes me so wet I brought extra panties so I could change between innings,” I whisper-lie.
“They’re called periods in hockey. Innings are for baseball.” Alex sits back on his knees and pops the button on my pants.
I know that. I said it to see if he’s paying attention. Alex dips his fingers inside my panties, and I can no longer think straight. This means I start asking dumb questions. “Why do guys use sports metaphors for sex?”
He pauses, likely to see if I’m serious. “Because we can relate to them, I guess.”
Alex drops my pants off the edge of the bed and runs his rough hands up the outside of my thighs. He starts at my knee and kisses a path north. “I’m about to round third base.” He grins, closing in on the land of Beave.
I’m all out of snarky commentary. I grace him with a wanton sound as he dives between my legs.
His tongue glides along my slit. We both moan like crazy. Well, I moan, and Alex makes this tremendously sexy sound halfway between a growl and groan. He mumbles things I can’t understand, but the sensation it creates is unparalleled, so I’m not about to stop him to find out what I’m missing.
He sits back on his knees, lifting my hips so only my shoulders and my head rest on the bed. It gives me an incredible view of what he’s doing to me. He grazes my clit with his teeth at the same time as he rolls my nipples between his fingers.
It’s at this moment I explode into orgasm. My entire body feels like it’s being sucked into a vortex of sensation. I have no idea what sounds I’m making, if any at all, because my whole world seems to have gone black.
Alex sets me gently on the mattress, his head no longer between my thighs. “Did I do good?” He hovers above me, his face an inch from mine, and I can feel the monster cock twitching on my stomach.
“Ahmehgaw.”
“Is that a yes?” He looks awfully pleased. I can’t blame him. If I'd made him momentarily black out, I’d be smirky, too.
I nod in lieu of a verbal response. The monster cock nestles in, getting reacquainted with my special parts. Alex runs the head of his cock back and forth over my clit a couple of times, probably so he can hear my porn-like soundtrack. Then he slides home.
“Holy shit,” Alex groans.
“I know.” I nod into his shoulder and bite down because, hot damn, it’s been a while and nothing has changed about the dimensions of his cock.
He lifts his head as he begins to move. I’m locked in his stare, unable to break it as he shifts his weight so his pelvis grazes my clit with each slow thrust. I thread my hands into his hair and exhale unsteadily. The warmth spreading through my body is reflected in his eyes. His love, his desire, our mutual need envelop me, sensation and emotion merging. When I come, it’s going to be unbelievable.
“Violet.” He slides his hands under my shoulders, holding me tightly.
I moan the words I’ve been too afraid of until this moment. “I love you.”
I hope I’m semi-coherent, or I’ll feel like an idiot if he asks for clarification. My eyes beg to close, but I won’t let them. I stay focused on him as the sweetest smile appears, followed by the unexpected reply.
“Oh fuck. I’m com—”
His lips part and his eyes glaze. He pushes into me, deep and hard, hitting the special pl
ace inside that makes me see stars and fireworks and leprechauns. Never mind the leprechauns, they’re creepy.
We must lie there, completely immobile, for five minutes, which feels more like forty-five.
“That was awesome.” I look up at him blearily. I’m orgasm-stupid right now.
“Uh-huh.”
“Violet.”
“Mmm.”
Alex pulls the covers up, cocooning us in warmth and each other. “I love you, too.”
VIOLET
Our relationship isn’t magically perfect after Alex apologizes and we exchange I love you’s. We’re figuring things out and having fun while we’re doing it—and each other.
In the off-season, Alex trains almost daily, and much of his free time is taken up by promotional shoots. Apparently stealing one’s own thunder with a public declaration of love has an amazing impact on marketability. Companies are clamoring to use him for various campaigns. My personal favorite is his endorsement for Trojan condoms. Magnum, of course. I have a seven-foot cardboard cut-out of him in the corner of my bedroom. He wears only boxers. It’s the best jill-off inspiration I have. Alex turns it around to face the wall whenever he sleeps at my apartment.
I haven’t moved in with him yet. It’s only been a couple of months since we got back together, and I’m trying not to rush things. Alex is like a fairy tale prince. Not so much that he comes riding in like a white knight to save me, more like he dives into huge life decisions with absolutely no caution. He asks me to move in with him on a weekly basis. I’ve decided if things are going well by fall, I’ll say yes.
It would be easy to slip into a routine where all I do is go to his house and eat his awesome food and sleep in his huge comfortable bed. I do this no more than twice a week—okay, three times. We balance it out with the occasional sleepover at my apartment. Alex isn’t a fan. It’s not so much the apartment, it’s the lack of luxury. I feel it’s important to know what it’s like not to have millions of dollars and four thousand square feet of living space.
Tonight, Alex is slumming it at my place. We reserve his sleepovers here for Wednesday nights. This is purposeful on my part. Melvin, my smelly, death-metal-loving neighbor, goes out for his role play club every Wednesday. He always leaves dressed as a wizard.
Now it’s not that I’m trying to hide Melvin’s crush on me. Alex knows about it. Although he’s unaware Melvin still stops by on a regular basis to see if I want to play Guitar Hero.
What I am trying to hide is Melvin’s habit of listening to obscenely loud music every night between the hours of seven and eleven. I don’t want to give Alex more ammunition to convince me to move in with him. I’m not ready. I don’t think. Not yet.
Alex is sitting on my couch, nursing a light beer—he can’t drink the regular stuff because of pre-season training. He rarely takes a break from all the healthy eating. We’re watching Netflix since I won’t pay for cable, and I won’t let Alex pay for it either. Melvin should be out tonight with his friends. Instead, he’s serenading us with his music. I can sing along if I want to. Or scream, as the case may be.
“What the hell is wrong with that guy?” He glares at the wall separating us from the barely muffled sound.
“Maybe he has a hearing impairment.”
Melvin’s hearing is fine. I believe he plays it at this volume to cover up how often he whacks it. The only reason he can get away with it is because the neighbor on the other side is an old man who’s practically deaf. He also happens to be Ms. Bullock’s booty call—the old man, not Melvin. I discovered this when I caught him leaving Ms. Bullock’s apartment in her too-short zebra print bathrobe, his saggy old-man balls hanging out the bottom.
“How long does this go on for?” Alex moves around as though he’s uncomfortable, which is absurd. I fall asleep on this couch all the time; it’s like sitting on a cloud.
I shrug. I don’t want to tell him it’s nearly constant.
“Violet?” He cocks his sexy eyebrow, his tone demanding a reply.
“It’s not that bad.”
“I don’t believe you. I’m going to have a word with this douche.”
Alex stands, ready to tell Melvin off. I can’t let this happen. If Alex sees Melvin and Melvin says my name the way he usually does—like he wants to hump it—Alex is going to kick his stinky ass. I don’t want to get kicked out of my apartment, nor do I want Alex to be charged with assault.
“No, don’t. I’m fine with it. I like this music.” I hum along for a few seconds, thrashing to the beat. I really hate this shit.
“Why don’t you want me to talk to him?” Alex is too quick, too smart, and too perceptive for his own good.
“Um, uh . . .”
He crosses his arms over his chest. It makes his muscles bulge in a distracting way.
“Is he still trying to get you to go out with him?”
“No.” It comes out all high-pitched. I need to learn how to lie better.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” Alex grabs me by the waist and carries me to the wall I share with Melvin, where he pins me to it with his body.
“What—”
“We’re gonna make a little noise of our own.” Alex grins, but his eyes are dark and possessive. Ooooh, angry, dark, possessive Alex is sexy.
“Oh. Good plan.” The monster cock has risen to the occasion. My corresponding parts respond accordingly.
I’m naked in a flash. My clothes literally incinerate off my body thanks to Alex’s smoldering gaze. Not really—he’s got nimble fingers. He only bothers to lose his shirt and undo his pants. Being the considerate lover he is, he still uses his fingers for a minute in preparation for the MC.
Once I’m sufficiently primed, he lifts me up and lowers me onto him. Alex slams his hand against the wall every time he thrusts. It’s hard and fast and loud, which is what he intends. At one point, the music stops completely—right in the middle of one of my epic declarations of cock love.
The music returns immediately, louder this time. This pisses him off even more; he channels his anger into my pleasure, loudly. This makes me the recipient of two stellar orgasms.
When he finally comes, he leaves a dent in the drywall with the side of his fist.
I can’t stand on my own after he sets me down. At first, he’s worried he’s hurt me, and then he realizes he’s fucked me until I can’t walk again.
“Here, baby, let me help you out.” He carries me to the couch, his annoyingly cocky grin fixed in place. I’m too much of a limp noodle to do more than glare from a semi-prone position.
Alex is a big fan of post-sex meals. I don’t have a personal chef who prepares such things for me, so we have to go out to get something. I’m too post-orgasm dumb to argue against it, so I try to figure out how to use my legs again and get dressed, with Alex’s help.
I tiptoe quickly past Melvin’s door. Alex has other ideas; he knocks hard enough to make the light above us rattle. Melvin peeks out with the chain lock still attached. His eye—the one I can see—flickers to me and away. His face goes beet red.
Alex wrinkles his nose as he takes in the rank odor emanating from Melvin’s apartment. His smile is dark, and he keeps one arm wrapped protectively around me. “Hey, buddy. You mind keeping your music down a little in the future? Violet’s too polite to ask. It makes it hard for her to function.” Alex stresses the “funk” in function, making it sound like fuck-shun.
“Oh, yeah, yeah, sure.” Melvin nods, his wide eyes on Alex.
“Thanks, man.” Alex guides me down the hall with his hand on my ass. I’d protest, but it’s actually kind of funny.
Two horrifyingly embarrassing weeks after the wall-sex fiasco—during which Melvin avoids me and Ms. Bullock gives me knowing winks—the pipes in my kitchen burst and flood my apartment. The landlord tells me it’s going to take a week to fix it.
Alex totally overreacts and comes over to let my landlord know it’s unacceptable. My landlord’s “not my problem” attitude pisses off Alex. After a y
elling match, where Alex questionably threatens to kick his ass with his hockey stick, my landlord says he’ll do his best to get the pipes fixed as quickly as possible. Alex doesn’t seem terribly worried about the pipes, to be honest.
I hastily throw a bunch of stuff into an overnight bag, and we head to his place.
Alex rubs the back of my neck. “You can stay with me until the pipes are fixed.”
“Okay.” I hadn’t really considered any other options, although my parents' pool house is always open if I don’t mind my mom popping in without warning.
“Maybe you should think about looking for another apartment.”
“Why would I want to do that?”
“I don’t know; maybe because your landlord is an asshole and your neighbor humps the adjoining wall while you sleep.”
That’s a creepy thought. “It’s so close to my work, though. The music thing isn’t bad.”
He pulls into his driveway. “Violet.”
“Okay. It’s bad. I can still manage, and I really don’t want to pack up all my stuff again. It’s such a pain in the ass.”
“Right. Okay.” His face falls.
I put my hand on his arm. “Alex, Melvin is harmless. He smells worse than Buck’s hockey bag. He’s not a threat.”
“I know, baby. Let’s go inside and get you settled.”
I’m surprised he doesn’t suggest I move in with him; maybe I’ve avoided giving him an answer so many times he’s afraid to ask again. I bring my overnight bag upstairs. Alex lies on his bed and watches me as I hang a few outfits in his closet. Then I move to the dresser; I have a drawer reserved. Mostly it contains a variety of underwear, some sexy, some comic-book inspired.
He takes off his shirt and unbuttons his jeans. “Hey, wanna go for a swim? I hiked the pool up to thirty degrees today.”
“That’s below freezing.” Which is technically impossible since it’s July and we’re in the middle of a heatwave.
“Centigrade, not Fahrenheit.”
“I don’t have a bathing suit with me.”
“So? What do you need a bathing suit for?” His grin is full of sex and promise.
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