“Then don’t put a stipulation on us. Don’t act like we could fall apart any second because of something that may or may not happen. If you have to move, we’ll talk about it and we’ll deal with it.”
His answer was a gentle nod and then his mouth was on mine. It was a deep, powerful kiss. With no thought from me, my body moved on its own. A gripping hand on his shoulder. A tight leg around his waist. My fingers trailed down his stomach and found him hard and strong. I gave his dick a gentle squeeze.
Paul gasped, but didn’t stop me. Maybe he was afraid that I’d do exactly what Marjorie had. I’d take from him and then disappear. Just as Fontenot had done to me. My wounds had healed. I’d had years to bandage the cuts and let them scab over. His were still fresh—a constant reminder any time he thought of his brother.
He needed more time. More time to trust in this new, honest love.
I could give him that, but he needed to bend a little too.
“Wait,” he said when I pulled his boxers down. The long, thick length of him sprung upward and I wrapped my hand around him. Paul moaned, a shaky breath replacing the words he might have said. “Mia…”
“Is this okay?” I asked. “Just this?”
He nodded and lay back on the bed. I followed him, straddling one of his legs. My hands pumped up and down, but I still wanted more. Even though I’d never done this, I wanted to try and brought my mouth down to him.
His hips flinched when he felt my lips close around the tip. “Mmmm,” he said on a deep moan. I took in more of him, loving the power this made me feel. He pumped into my mouth, his fist clinching. I watched the tension in his abs as we moved faster and faster.
My hair fell around my face and Paul leaned up to take it in a gentle fist. He held it back and watched me pleasure him. Our eyes connecting.
I wondered how lewd this must look. My mouth stretching as I took him in. My eyes slightly watering. The look on his face was locked in pure ecstasy and I released him from my mouth, unable to hold in my rumble of pleasure. Using just my hand, I kissed and licked him where I could.
My lips hovered over his tip again, and the anticipation made him crazy. He pumped wildly, trying to reach my mouth. I gave in and let him have what he wanted, sucking him again.
“Mia,” he said, his head falling back. “Good God.”
I saw it—the tension in his arms, the flexing of his muscles. His face contorted and he warned me, but I kept going, needing to finish this.
He filled my mouth, and I swallowed it back, watching his face come undone. When he finished, he was breathless, his chest rising and falling quickly. I put my hand to his stomach and gave him an affectionate rub. Even if we didn’t have sex, this was something and I liked that he was the first man I’d ever given this too.
“Was it okay?” I asked. “I’ve never done that before.”
“I’m the first?” he said, out of breath.
“Yes.”
He growled, and if I had to guess, knowing that made him feel proud. In a swift movement, he pushed me onto my back and yanked my panties down my legs. Before I even had time to process what was happening, his mouth was on me, his lips and tongue giving me pleasure like I’d never felt before.
Tonight was a night of firsts. No man had ever done this for me, and I couldn’t remember if I’d even wanted them to. But Paul’s tongue was making my body feel things I didn’t even know it could. Heat was coursing through me, and I couldn’t even be sure what sounds I made.
Even though I didn’t know what I should be doing, Paul did it for me. He took my legs and draped them over his shoulders as he held me at the hips. His tongue was soft yet firm, sending fire through my limbs. My hands landed in his soft hair and gripped as he licked faster and faster.
When his fingers pushed inside me, I felt myself come undone. They pumped and caressed all the right places. My eyes closed tight. My hips rolled with him.
As my orgasm hit, I locked up, every muscle going taut. Air couldn’t reach my lungs fast enough and my neck stretched back, almost to the point of pain, but I wasn’t in control of my body. Paul was. And he forced it do whatever he wanted with only a flick of his tongue and slight pressure from his fingertips.
I came down slowly and curled into his side when he lay beside me.
“That was amazing,” I said.
His breath was heavy, his hands gentle. “Mia. That was more than amazing.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
I WOKE FIRST, PAUL’S long body lying next to me. For the first time we didn’t have to be anywhere. There was no work. No school. No responsibilities. For today, we could be lazy and lounge in bed as long as we wanted.
With my eyes closed, I leaned into his bare chest and took a deep inhale. His smell was subtle—a hint of his cologne, a tiny drop of masculine sweat. I smiled, knowing I’d recognize it anywhere.
While he slept, I nestled in close, wrapping my arms and legs around him. Feeling me move, he stirred, pulling me into his side. A soft snore fell from his mouth, and I grinned, rubbing a finger along his chest. The hair there was perfect. Not too much. Not too little. Just enough to make him feel rugged and strong.
Having him so close, the memories of last night flooded back and my arousal bloomed. He’d left me not long after I’d fallen asleep, his phone ringing across the room. He’d taken the call in the hallway, and I’d heard the agitation in his voice. But it had ended quickly and he came back to me, lust and desire evident in the presses of his fingertips. He’d pleasured me again. Longer. Harder. My body had turned into a floppy mess when he was through, barely able to lift its own limbs.
I kissed his chest, and rubbed my hand down his belly, toying with the band of his boxers. Paul rolled over. “You’re up early,” he said, kissing my neck.
“I know. My sleep was good. Wonderful.”
“Mmm…” A kiss just below my ear. “Mine, too.”
“Who called you so late?” I asked, rubbing a hand down his back. “You’d think the whole office would burn to the ground without you.”
“I’m stretched too thin,” he sighed, falling back on the mattress. “Florida wants me to come down sooner than expected. There’s some issue with their books they can’t resolve. And the office here is putting too much on my plate.”
“You need a vacation,” I said.
His huff was amused, but clear that he agreed with me. “When you come to Florida it should be better. I’m hoping to get a few extra days in, just you and me. We can do whatever we want.”
“Do you stay in a hotel when you’re there?”
“Sometimes. They have condos, too. I can request one on the beach when we go.”
The thought alone excited me. “How long do I have to wait?”
“Four weeks?” he guessed. “If I go down early and finish everything up, we should have plenty of time.”
“Will you be gone long?” Since we’d been together, he hadn’t needed to go back and I’d miss having him so near.
“Five days. At least.”
“I’ll miss you,” I confessed.
“You too, Pretty.”
For the rest of the day, we cuddled in his bed and watched movies, only leaving it to care for Ferdinand. We were stuck in a bubble, consumed by each other. For hours, we touched and caressed. The curtains were dark, blocking out all sunlight. Our faces glowed in the illumination of the television. Shadows danced around his features as he held my face—sweet murmured words, gentle smiles.
Each of his soft declarations and tender touches bound me to him. I was lost in his eyes, too mesmerized to worry about anything else. His attention held me captive and my addiction grew.
How lucky was I to have found him? I was young, still so much of my life to be determined, but I wanted him right there with me—his hands to soothe me, his eyes to calm me, his voice to bring me encouragement.
We explored each other’s bodies, discovering the secret places we liked to be touched. Our mouths and hands were greedy, unable to quench the in
satiable thirst. I found myself trusting him, believing maybe it was better to wait. When we finally did have sex, I knew it would be the most incredible feeling I’d ever experience. Because he was doing something no one else ever had. He was taking the time to know my body. His hooded eyes would watch me as I came undone. He studied me, recognizing every change in my breath, using it to his advantage.
I’d never known a more attentive man. His pleasure came from seeing mine. All I had to do was graze my fingers along his skin. Chills and shivers would roll through him, his eyes unable to remain open.
I wanted to stay with him again. Just one more night. But he wouldn’t have it.
“I–I can’t,” he said full of pain and torment.
“Why?” I asked. It was late in the evening, and I was sitting on the edge of his bed. Paul stood between my legs, and I used my hands to coax him with gentle, soft touches.
“Because,” he sighed. “I won’t be able to stay away from you.”
It’s sweet, I thought. This isn’t a rejection. You said you’d give him time, so do it.
I let it go and Paul took me home.
Sitting in his car, I looked up the stairs to my apartment door. Fiona’s car was gone, but I was nervous. She and I needed talk. She’d made a pass at Paul. Several, most likely. Yes, I’d withheld knowledge of Fontenot, but I hadn’t been a vital part in any of his antics.
Despite all of that and how angry she’d made me, I was sad. Our friendship was over. We’d more than likely never speak once our lease was up. Paul offered to come inside with me, but I declined. It would be better if he wasn’t there when we had our discussion. He kissed me goodbye, and I slowly walked up the steps, swallowing the knot in my throat.
Inside, things looked different, and I couldn’t put my finger on it. When I reached for the end table to turn on the lamp, my hand found only air. It was gone. I flicked the wall switch instead.
Our TV was gone. The walls were missing paintings and decorations. Had we been robbed? Nervously, I walked to Fiona’s room and pushed the door open.
Empty. No bed. No dresser. Only a few bits of trash littering the floor. I walked to the kitchen ready to call her, but found a note on our table.
I paid my portion of the last two months on our lease with money I EARNED selling my paintings, because unlike some people, I don’t need my stuck up boyfriend to hold my hand and get favors for me. Fuck you. Have a nice fucking life.
She was such a self-absorbed brat. I took the note and threw it away, trying to look on the bright side. We might not get our closure, but at least I didn’t have to share an apartment with her any longer.
I wondered where she’d gone. Her parents probably wouldn’t have let her move back home, and even though I knew she had other friends, none of them seemed responsible enough to have their own place.
Without her TV, I had no other way to pass the time but to paint.
So I painted. And painted. And painted some more.
It was 2 a.m. when I finally crawled into bed, splotches of colors on my arms and face. Three new pieces were drying in my kitchen and I sighed. Mostly from relief, but a tiny ache lingered in my chest.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
I WAS LONELY THE first few days, remembering all the good times she and I had, trying to decide where I went wrong and how I could have been different. It didn’t matter what she’d done. I was at fault too. After a while I let my guilt go and tried to enjoy it.
Paul would come over and I loved being able to sit with him on my couch. We listened to the radio and there was no Fontenot, no Fiona, nothing at all to disturb us.
But he was more reserved now. Our intimate bubble had burst and he made sure not to take things too far with me. He didn’t trust himself, he’d said.
For my own sanity, I had to make peace with this. I’d gone years without sex. I could last a few more weeks or months, if that’s what Paul wanted. But to do that, I had to be more reserved too. I was still liberal with my affection, but I’d stepped back.
He was leaving for Florida and I was watching Ferdinand for him again. Five whole days he’d be gone. And it might even be longer. Paul couldn’t be sure.
I was in his living room watching him get ready to leave. “Why does it have to be so long? Can’t they find someone else to do…whatever is you do down there?”
“They could,” he smiled, “but it’s cheaper for them this way. They only have to pay me when I’m actually there. And my boss here doesn’t mind as long as I bust ass when I’m back. It’s gonna pay off, though. I’m bringing in a lot of extra cash.”
This coming from the man who said it was better to follow your passion than the money. “And what are you going to do with all this extra cash.” His townhouse was nice. His car was new. He never had time for anything besides work.
“I don’t know,” he said, stuffing his feet into his shoes. “I could buy a house somewhere quiet. Go on a trip. See the world. Who knows?”
His plane was leaving in only a few hours and I’d already brought my suitcase over. Paul didn’t even dress down to fly. “Do you even own a pair of jeans?” I asked as he stood from the couch. Playfully, I grabbed his tie and pulled him towards me. “I bet you’d look sexy in a pair of jeans.”
“I don’t look sexy now?”
He knew he did. There was something downright hot about seeing him in slacks and dress shirts. He purchased his clothes well. Pairing shirts and ties with just the right pants. He looked confident and powerful.
“I love the way you dress,” I said, pulling his mouth down to mine.
“You, too,” he said, grabbing me around the waist and lifting me into the air. As if I weighed nothing, he wrapped my legs around his waist and kissed me long and hard. I was too consumed by it to tell him his compliment didn’t count. I’d said it first.
“I’ll be back before you know it,” he said, walking with me to the door. Ferdinand saw us from the kitchen and began barking, not sure what was going on. “Calm down,” he laughed at him. “I’m putting your lady down.”
Ferdinand ran over to me and nudged his head against my legs, sniffing and licking, almost as if he was trying to make sure I was okay. “Don’t worry, boy,” I said. “Your daddy’s not taking me with him. Not this time anyway.”
“I’ll call you when I land,” he said, giving me one more kiss.
When he was gone, I settled into his couch and applied for jobs. Fiona had quit Faeries and Moonbeams so I was getting extra hours there, but not enough to fully support me. All of the positions in my area were filled. Art History wasn’t a highly desirable field where I lived. I searched New Orleans and Baton Rouge, but there weren’t any openings. If I wanted to work in the field I loved, I’d either have to be poor or move. There was no way around it.
I looked around Paul’s apartment and knew I wasn’t ready for that. What would happen between us if I moved? Maybe there was wisdom to his fears. Would we try to maintain our relationship long distance? No. Not yet. I didn’t have to move. And Paul didn’t have to go to Florida. That would be a last resort. I had time to find something.
Ferdinand and I enjoyed our time together and I realized over the last few weeks he’d been sorely neglected. All of my and Paul’s attention had been on each other, the poor boy left to keep himself company. To make up for it, I spent all of my free time with him. We went to parks and on walks frequently. I spoiled him. I spoiled him rotten.
Paul had called me the night he landed, but I’d barely heard from him since. Our texts were short, and beginning to feel forced. His phone calls were always late into the night and he’d sound exhausted. He’d been in Florida four days, but it felt like weeks.
The clock on his nightstand read 10:23p.m. He was on the other end of the phone, yawning into my ear. “I’m sorry,” he said. “This just takes a lot out of you. All the numbers are starting to give me a headache.”
“Don’t worry about it,” I said, knowing he cared about me. I could be understandin
g here. Work was taking its toll. “You don’t have to text or call if you’re tired.”
“No, no, I want to,” he said on another yawn.
“Have you been at the office all night?”
“No,” he said. “We left about 6 and went to dinner but had to go back. But I, uh, I’ve got some bad news.”
My stomach sank and I sat up in his bed. “Oh, no,” I said. “What’s happened?”
“I have to stay longer. At least another week.”
“Oh,” I said, disappointed.
“I’m sorry.” He sighed. “I know how bad this sucks.”
I wondered if it was worth it to him. All of this stress. This jumbling of his life. “No…no, it’s fine,” I said, trying to be agreeable rather than selfish.
We fell silent. I wanted to tell him I missed him, but I couldn’t. My pride was wounded. He’d barely spoken to me over the last few days, and I knew the rest would be the same. Over there, in Florida, I was a distraction, an afterthought. All of our tender, sweet moments spent in this bed and our city were far from his mind. He pushed me out so he could accomplish what he needed to. It hurt and I needed him to open up to me, to nurse my superficial wounds and help me deal with this distance.
“Mia,” he said, “it’s only a week. I’ll make it up to you.”
“It’s just…” Over-sensitive tears filled my eyes.
“I know,” he said. “I know, Pretty. Trust me, I want to come home to you.”
I took a breath and tried to push my self-centered thoughts away. He was busy working, and despite that, he still tried to make time for me.
“Okay,” I said.
Paul sighed. “I’ll try to get this done as fast as I can, okay?”
It made me feel guilty. Already he was overly worked. In an attempt to please me, he was going to push himself harder. “Don’t worry about me,” I said. “I understand. I mean, I want you to come home, but I don’t want you to be stressed. I’ll be fine.”
“You’re sweet,” he said and I could hear the smile in his voice.
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