by Vivien Vale
She gasps softly, a whisper escaping her mouth. “Michael.”
I sit up, instantly alert. I hold her shoulder gently, stroking her smooth skin.
“I’m here, baby,” I whisper, “I’m right here, and I’m never going anywhere ever again.”
She opens her eyes, slowly, stretching, reaching up towards me. “Fucking kiss me and prove it then.”
I lean down and kiss her softly, gently. My cock stands to attention immediately, but I tell him to sit the fuck down.
I’m a new man now. It’s not about what I want. It’s about what she wants.
As our lips explore each other, she slips her tongue into my mouth and leans back, licking my own tongue. Her hips move, and her thighs open, and I can’t help it—I let out a little sound of distress. She’s so fucking hot.
“What’s the matter, baby?” She looks at me dreamily, stroking my bare chest. “Shouldn’t you be ravishing me right now?” Her grin and the twinkle in her eye is enough to make a priest weep.
“I don’t want to hurt you. You’ve been through so much. Let me just hold you.”
Stella laughs, a carefree sound. “Sorry, honey, but that’s just not going to work for me,” she reaches up, kissing me softly but deeply, teasing with her tongue. “I need you to fuck me.”
I sweep the sheet aside, moving over her to run my hands from her shoulders to stroke her arms.
“I want to do something I’ve never done before,” I whisper, drinking in her perfect skin, her round breasts.
Her nipples are so hard, so pink, I can’t help it—I have to reach down and take one in my mouth, softly rolling it between my lips.
She gasps and grabs the back of my head, so I give her some more, flicking my tongue against the edges of her nipple as it gets tighter.
“What…d-do you want to do?” she gasps. I can tell she’s curious. I come back to her face, stroking her cheek with my left hand.
“I want to make love,” I whisper, my right hand lightly stroking the other nipple now, savoring the smoothness of her skin and the roughness of her nipple.
She blinks, trying to stay with it, but the pleasure is too much. She rolls her head back and rocks her hips, and I can’t wait anymore.
I slide both hands slowly down her hips as I move down, crouching and grabbing her ass cheeks as I bring her towards me.
I mouth her clit, gently pulling away then coming in with my tongue, teasing her with a deep lick then going back to squeezing it gently with my lips. She moans and writhes, and I trail my tongue down to those deeper parts, right in the cunt.
She’s so wet, and oh, fuck. She’s just getting wetter.
My tongue tries to chase it back to its source as her hips grind against me. She grabs a fistful of my hair and holds me down, and I don’t think anything in the world could make me happier.
I feel it as she begins to spasm. I’m working my lips and tongue deep into her, eating the orgasms out of her as she crests from one orgasm to the next. As she drips, I mouth her gorgeous clit one more time. Man, how I love seeing it swollen and pink and desperate for more action.
She’s breathing so hard, her gorgeous tits are heaving up and down. She’s got that blank look in her eyes, the one anyone gets when the desire is so hard, all conscious thought has fled.
I sit up, coming up between her legs. Gently, I place my hands on her hips, teasing her hole with my cock. I slide it up and down, from clit to pussy, my cock getting more engorged by the second until it’s almost like pain.
“Put it in! For fuck’s sake, Michael, put it in and fuck me!”
The smile that bursts on to my face is pure joy.
I’ve never been so happy.
Slowly, I draw my cock down into that deep, wet place. Inch by inch, I push it into her. She’s tight and wet, every inch still a fight as my giant cock slides into her tight wet pussy. She starts writhing and grabbing my arms, but I remain in control, thrusting slowly and gently, making sure she is not in pain.
Like I said, it’s hard being a doctor sometimes. I know she’s injured, and she might not feel it now with the endorphins flooding her brain, but after, she will feel bruised.
I can’t have that. I have to do my angel deep and slow.
If she wants to be fucked, it’s my job to fuck her right.
For the rest of her life.
She’s rocking against my cock now, trying to force a faster rhythm. She grinds her hips against me, and I can feel those orgasms flowing again, a chain of them, the sharp spasms and clenches pumping my cock.
I smile and reach down with one hand to thumb her clit, and that does it—she screams and rocks as vaginal and clitoral orgasms hit at the same time. My cock is literally drenched by the river of delicious woman cum trying to squeeze around it.
I start to thrust a little faster, and that’s it—I blow hard, the tightness and throbbing of my cock triggering yet another orgasm for Stella.
I stay still for just a moment as she begins to relax, knowing that if I pull out too fast, it will hurt.
Instead, I gently slide away and lie down beside her. I wrap one arm around her and pull her against my chest, breathing into her hair.
“I love you, Stella,” I whisper, overcome.
“I love you, too, Michael,” she whispers, but she sounds sad.
“I gotta tell you something, baby,” I say now. She tries to speak, but I talk over her. “No, no, you gotta let me say this. Stella. I love you. I want you to marry me. I don’t want you to sit in my apartment and wait for me; I want to share my whole world with you. I want you with me at all times…what do you think? You up for it?”
She sits up, and it looks like she’s crying.
Shit! What did I do?
I sit up, too, trying to turn her towards me. She pushes me off, crying, but doesn’t pull away.
“Please, tell me what’s wrong.” I’ve never been in so much pain all my life.
She turns to me. “Michael. I think I might be pregnant.”
For a moment, I can’t speak. I look at this beautiful woman. The smell of her is all over me. She is delicate and strong and smart and a total badass.
And she’s going to be the mother of my child.
“Stella…babe. Marry me, then. Make an honest man out of me. I’ll take care of you…Christ, you’re gonna look so fucking good carrying my child.”
She wipes away her tears. “You’re not mad? I thought a baby would get in the way of your career.”
I grasp her shoulders lightly, looking deep into her eyes. “Babe, a minute ago I couldn’t think of anything that would make me happier than just you. Now you say you’re having my baby…” I shake my head, emotion catching in my throat. “Marry me, you sassy bitch. Be my wife, and let’s raise a whole troop of super smart, genius, awesome gorgeous kids.”
Laughing, Stella throws her arms around my neck.
“Yes, Michael! Of course, yes!”
I feel like it’s the first time she hasn’t fucking fought me on something since she tumbled out of that box and grabbed me by the nuts.
Somehow, I doubt I’ll have to get used to it.
Chapter 22
Stella
The sunset here still takes my breath away.
A million shades of pink and gold light up the sky, shining brilliantly over the dusky brown savanna.
It’s funny to think that, before coming here, I only ever felt this way about clothes.
Well, okay. And Michael, of course.
A soft breeze tugs at the hem of my dress.
It’s a simple garment, really. Ankle-length ivory that flows in the wind. No lace, no diamonds or gems. It’s certainly not the kind of thing I ever imagined getting married in.
Still, it’s perfect.
Just like him.
He stands across from me, looking like his usual gorgeous self. His slacks are some of the only nice clothes he brought, along with his white button-down.
He’s never looked better to me than he d
oes right now.
My husband.
I guess I’m getting a little ahead of myself.
My soon-to-be-husband. Very soon.
He smiles at me, hair stirring slightly in the breeze.
He does that nearly all the time now. The smiling. And I’m always right there, smiling back at him.
I was nervous when he suggested we come here. I’ve been to a lot of places, and Africa never seemed like where I’d end up.
When he asked me, I almost refused.
Girls like me don’t go to Africa. We don’t, y’know. Belong here.
Certainly not out on the savanna doing humanitarian work.
There was something in his eyes, though. Call it hope. When the man you love looks at you like that, there’s really no option of refusing.
It meant so much to him.
I figured I might as well tag along. I could tolerate a little wilderness for him. He did save my life, after all.
I never expected what I would find once we got here.
The happiness, the simplicity, the joy of actually doing something good.
I’m a changed woman, alright? And I owe it all to him.
The crazy thing is, most days, I don’t even miss our old life.
I hardly ever even think about clothes, and I’ve given up on makeup entirely.
Things like that don’t matter out here. People do. It’s an amazing way to live.
On the rare days when I start to feel homesick, Michael is there to comfort me. He reminds me that what we’re doing here really counts. That we’re saving lives.
I took to assisting him right away. It’s one thing to know that the man you love is a hero, another entirely to see it in person.
He’s amazing. The way he cares for people, the way he takes care of people. I found myself jumping in immediately.
Sometimes I even act as his nurse. It’s a far cry from surgeon, but who knows, maybe I’ll get there one day.
He moves a step closer to me, the setting sun glowing gold where it touches his skin.
I have to fight the urge to kiss him. We’re not at that part yet.
His blue eyes travel down me, stopping like they so often do on my stomach.
I’ve grown substantially since coming here, and I don’t even mind.
I feel the baby kick as he reaches out, placing a hand on my swollen belly.
Our baby.
I really am the luckiest woman alive.
“I do,” he says, eyes rising to meet mine.
I echo his words—the easiest decision I’ve ever made.
Just like that, he really is my husband.
Not soon-to-be, not a fantasy, and for damn sure not my owner.
My husband.
He pulls me toward him, dipping me slightly at the waist.
It’s one of my all-time favorite kisses, tied for first with every other kiss we’ve shared.
Our few guests, mostly locals we’ve befriended, cheer in delight.
They’ve been calling us married since we arrived. It’s about time we made it official.
The smile on his face when he pulls back from me brings tears to my eyes.
I can’t believe I’m the one who put it there.
I smile back, fighting away the tears.
I’ve never been happier in my life.
The reception is simple, like everything in our lives now. It’s not anything like I would have planned before, but there’s music and food, good people, and strong drinks. Or so I’m told.
I won’t lie—wine is one thing I do miss.
After the party dies down, we sit together by the fire.
Above us, billions of stars shine in the night sky.
When we first arrived, I think it was the stars that surprised me the most.
I was born and raised in cities, I traveled to other cities…I really never knew there were so many stars. Countless, limitless, stretched as far as the eye can see.
Even now, I’m amazed.
Michael squeezes my hand, drawing my attention back to him.
“Can’t get used to it, can you?”
I laugh. “Why would I wanna do that?”
He nods in understanding.
“One of the mid-wives told me she thinks it’s a boy,” he says, looking again at my stomach.
My hand goes to the bump there instinctively.
“Really? I don’t know, feels like a girl.”
“You just want it to be.” he replies, laughing.
“No, I don’t care which it is, as long as it’s healthy…and it’s ours.”
“Well, it’s definitely ours. You’ve felt how it kicks.”
“Damn right. I blame you for it, though.”
“Me?!”
“Uh, yeah. You just had to go throwing those strong, sexy genes around!”
His laughter echoes in the silence.
“Well, I don’t care who they take after… as long as they don’t get your attitude.”
Now it’s my turn to laugh.
He scoots closer to me, and I rest my head against his chest, the steady beat of his heart feeling like home.
“I love you, Michael.” I say, almost a whisper.
“I love you, too.” he replies.
We sit there for a long time, stars beaming, wind rusting the grass around us.
It feels like the future is incredibly bright.
Probably because it is.
I feel our baby kick inside me as Michael holds me tight.
I guess good things really do come in big packages…
And little ones, too.
Now or Never
By Vivien Vale
Copyright 2018 by Crimson Vixens
All rights reserved
This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or persons is entirely coincidental. This work intended for adults only.
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Kat
I wasn’t completely expecting Jason to be here, but I’m still disappointed he’s not. Or, at least, he hasn’t been here for the past few days, so I’ve been lying on this chaise, looking nonchalantly that way and this way.
I’m not such a nonchalant person, it turns out, because once I finally push my legs over and walk to the beachside bar, Miguel, the young man who’s been bringing me my afternoon cocktail, asks when the person I was waiting for would be arriving.
“I’m not—I’m, um, alone,” I say. Making my voice light, I add, “I’m having some much-needed quiet time.”
Miguel—sweet, sweet Miguel—stammers and apologizes.
“I misunderstood, Ms. Aviva. For some reason,” he says, “I thought—”
I wave away his apology. Sweet Miguel isn’t crazy. I’ve basically been jerking my head around every time I hear the sound of people entering the hotel’s private beach. I shouldn’t quit my day job to be a covert CIA agent.
Still, no Jason.
I didn’t come here for Jason. Well, not just for Jason, but I’m curious about what happened to him. I came back to see if he stuck to his word and if he stayed in this “forever country,” as he always called the Riviera Maya region of Mexico.
He said—this was seven years ago now—he would never leave Tulum once we got here, and I understand now why he wanted to come. It’s beautiful here—in certain areas of the beach, the only sound is breaking waves and wind. The Caribbean Sea is every shade of turquoise.
I think of all the plans we made. Spending weekends on Cozumel, an island off the mainland. He said we’d stay out of the city, stopping only long enough to rent two scooters and then ride the circumference of the island to its undeveloped east side.
Where everything would finally be okay.
The months we were together were easily the most extraordinary of my lif
e.
After everything blew up in our faces, though, I packed my bags and left Jason and plans for Mexico behind me, focusing on my safe life of deadlines and bills, awful spin classes, and too much wine. All I kept of our plans for tucked away in my heart.
Before he said it had to be Mexico, I asked him to come to DC with me.
“If you like it there, you could—or, you know, we could—stay for a while,” I told him. “We could come to Tulum once or twice a year for retreats and workshops. I mean, I don’t want to be working on Capitol Hill forever. I have, I don’t know, maybe five years left at most. Any longer and I’ll keel over dead, probably.”
Of course, I had more years of work in me than I realized. When I told Jason I only had five years left, I didn’t count on the promotions I received and the campaigns I got to run. I didn’t count on being given the lead to craft and lobby for the congressman’s signature legislation.
I didn’t count on years after the law had been passed, that it would be threatened again and again.
Of course, I didn’t expect that. Not after all the years we gave to passing it. I didn’t expect it to be gutted completely, not after I had given over my entire twenties to it.
But it was declawed, and I’m gutted. Effectively, everything the law was supposed to do has been undercut. It’s a nothing law now—it does nothing, it helps no one, and I didn’t count on how much that would hurt and how personally I would take it.
And, of course, I didn’t count on Barrett. I didn’t count on meeting him one random Thursday night at the Black Cat, and then I didn’t count on him moving in with me two months later.
I for sure didn’t expect to be his boss three months after that. Then, of course, I was surprised by the exquisite, piercing pain and humiliation of watching my relationship disintegrate in front of my colleagues, the congressman, and our entire close-knit staff.
And six months ago, when I thought the dust had settled, I should have known something was up when the voices hushed when I opened my office door and walked into the room where everyone but the congressman sat. Barrett is getting married to Melinda, a press secretary who works for a congresswoman two offices down. A girl, incidentally, I hired as an intern four years ago.