Our Alternate Ending

by Katie Fox

  “What do you want, Elle? Tell me what you want.”

  “You.” Her voice was soft and drowsed by lust. “I want you.”

  Breaking away from my lips, she pulled back and removed her camisole, and then started working my belt free from its confining loops. With nimble fingers, she unfastened the button on my jeans, and her whispered command shot a surge of arousal straight to my groin.

  “Lift your hips.”

  I did as I was told, and as she dragged my jeans and boxers down my thighs—my dick springing free—she dropped to her knees. There wasn’t a moment to question what she was doing before her hot mouth was on me, her tongue licking and stroking. My head fell back as pleasure, sharp and powerful, slammed into me. A harsh gasp punched from my lungs, but Elle didn’t stop. She didn’t slow down. The soft flesh of her lips slid effortlessly along the velvet skin, and I curled my fingers in her hair, tugging gently, needing to grasp something.

  “Jesus, Elle.” My heavy-lidded eyes drifted shut as liquid fire rushed through my veins. “That feels so—ah—”

  My entire body jerked as she took me in her palm, her hand and mouth finding a perfect rhythm that had every muscle coiling tight. Pressure built and the pleasure twisting in my lower stomach neared its exploding point when she was suddenly gone. Her mouth, her hands—gone. I was still mourning the loss of her, watching through half-hooded eyes as she stood up and wiggled herself out of her shorts and her pink lace underwear.

  As quickly as she’d left, she was back.

  Her gaze never leaving mine, she climbed onto my lap, taking my face in her hands and slowly sliding herself down my painfully hard and throbbing cock. She was so hot—so tight, so perfect—and I groaned at how amazing she felt. My body demanded I thrust into her, and I ached to do so, but everything in her life had been so out of her control, especially when it came to us and the last few times we'd had sex, and I wanted her to have this. This power. This dominance. Curling my hands into fists to stop myself from taking hold of her hips and instead allowing her to set the pace, I watched her. Her cheeks were beautifully flush, her lips wet and swollen from our kisses, and her blonde hair splayed across her shoulders and down her breasts.

  She looked like a goddess. A goddess whose every inch I was desperate to worship.

  Unable to resist touching her, I reached behind her back and unclasped her bra, tossing it to the floor. My hands smoothed up her ribs, over the soft mounds of flesh. My thumbs swept over her taut nipples, and as she arched her back, gasping my name, I tugged her forward, taking the hardened tips into my mouth.

  “Owen…”

  I’d never get tired of hearing my name fall from her lips like that. Never.

  Elle lifted herself, and as she slid back down, reclaiming the inches, I growled my need for her to move faster. I’d told her earlier that watching her strut her glorious ass around the office was torture, but that was nothing compared to what she was doing now. I sucked and licked at her breasts for several minutes, wanting this to go on and on, while simultaneously desperate for release. My mind whirled with urgency, and as my impatience continued to climb, I slid my hand between us, pressing down and circling her clit with my fingers. She threw her head back, her soft moans rising in volume, and I tilted my hips at an angle that allowed for deeper thrusts.

  My body hovered on that precipice where sexual frustration reigned supreme, and I pressed my forehead to hers, practically begging for relief.

  “Elle, I need you to—I can’t…”

  Our chests were both heaving, Elle’s movements growing more and more intense, more feverish, and right when I thought I couldn’t hold back any longer, every part of me shaking as I fought to delay my orgasm, she cried out in sweet surrender. Her body trembled and her nails bit into the skin on my shoulders. The feel of her unraveling around me—the clenching of her inner muscles—sent me falling over the edge, and this time I took control, grabbing her hips and thrusting into her one final time, groaning out my own climax as pleasure swirled through my abdomen, to the tip of my dick, and down my legs.

  She collapsed against me, stealing the last of my breaths as her lips crushed to mine, a satisfied sigh rolling up the back of her throat. I swallowed every one of her soft mewls and breathy whimpers, and I held her close, overwhelming emotion welling inside of my chest at the impossible way this woman made me feel.

  Fuck, I loved her.

  I had never loved a woman as much as I loved her, and I could sit there all day and claim how she was mine—mine, all mine—but the truth was, I was hers.

  I was completely hers.

  With Elle it was easy to forget I was dying. It was easy to lose myself in the now, in her smiles and her laughter, in those beautiful blue eyes that promised a lifetime of love and happiness, but I didn't have a lifetime. I had seven months if I was lucky, and I was terrified of the day I’d be ripped away from her, the day I’d be forced to give her one last kiss and whisper one last I love you.

  I'd come to learn life challenges you in many ways, but it didn’t ever really teach you how to say goodbye, and saying goodbye to Elle Callihan would be the hardest thing I'd ever have to do.

  “ELLE, BABY, WAKE up.”

  Owen’s hand smoothed up my back, and his breath danced along my forehead as he attempted to pull me from sleep. I nuzzled myself deeper into the space between his shoulder and neck and tightened my arms around him. I didn’t want to get up. I wanted to bury myself in his warmth and stay there forever.

  “Do I have to?”

  He chuckled, his entire chest rumbling. “Unfortunately, yes. I’d love to sit here and hold you all day, but we’re almost here.” His fingers came up to brush a few strands away from my face, and as I tilted my head back to look at him, he leaned in dropping a chaste kiss to my lips. “We’re going to be landing soon. I need to get you back in your seat and buckled.”

  Pouting, I pressed another kiss to his mouth before reluctantly crawling off his lap and slipping into the chair beside him. I wasn’t sure exactly how long we’d been flying or how long I’d been asleep. After keeping Owen well and thoroughly distracted, I’d gotten dressed and immediately resumed my position in his arms, curling myself into a ball. My lack of a proper sleep all week seemed to have caught up with me, and I’d dozed off listening to the sound of his heart and feeling the comforting touch of his hands as they stroked along my arms and back.

  “Are you going to tell me where we’re going now?”

  He shook his head, the expression on his face telling me my persistence was a battle he was finding difficult to fight. “Patience, beautiful. Patience. You’ll learn in good time.”

  I rolled my eyes teasingly, and not even a second later, the pilot’s voice echoed through the cabin speaker, advising us to prepare for landing. The grip Owen had on my fingers tightened, and I reached over, smoothing a hand up his arm and resting my head on his shoulder. He hated flying, but I had learned his least favorite aspect of the entire ordeal, aside from turbulence, was landing.

  Once the plane hit the ground, we rose from our seats and made our way in the direction of the cockpit. As we walked past the pilot and the flight attendant, Owen took a moment to stop and thank them while also confirming our next flight arrangements. He’d intentionally left out the names of any cities or countries, which meant even as we exited the plane, I still had no idea where we were.

  Stepping onto the tarmac, I glanced around curiously. The morning sun was bright, just rising above the horizon, and I ran through the time mentally in my head. We had traveled across time zones. I was sure of it, seeing as it had been late in the afternoon when we’d left New York. My arm still curled around Owen’s, we walked across the empty airfield, and as we reached a waiting Mercedes, I noticed French signage. I stopped abruptly, Owen’s entire body halting with me as I turned to look at him, my eyes wide. “Are we seriously in France?”

  His lips twitched, the start of a smile forming, and he shrugged nonchalantly. “Parlez-v
ous français?”

  “Owen!” I smacked his arm, watching him flinch as if I’d actually hurt him. He was so darn dramatic, and insane. Absolutely insane. “I can’t believe you flew us halfway around the world. And, no—no I don’t know French, so I sure as heck hope you do!”

  With a huge smile taking over his face, he looped his arm around my neck and dragged me to him, silencing me with a kiss. “I guess we’re screwed then because I don’t know a damn word outside of the ones I’ve just said.”

  Giggling, I grabbed his cheeks and kissed him again and again. “God, I love you.”

  He inhaled deeply, staring right into my eyes. “I love you, too.” His thumbs brushed imaginary circles on my cheeks, and then stepping back, he threaded his arm with mine and tugged me toward the car. “Come on, we have a hotel to check into and some shopping to do.”

  As we drove around the French streets, my eyes were glued to the window. The lights and the buildings were beautifully surreal, and while I’d only ever been to a handful of major cities in my life, I’d deemed Paris as my favorite. The architecture, the history, the culture, it was so different from New York, and being here with Owen was like a dream come true—a dream I hadn’t even known I’d dreamed.

  “This is amazing.”

  The words slipped out under my breath, and Owen, whose fingers were locked together with mine, brought my hand to his mouth. He pressed a gentle kiss to the back of it, his lips soft and warm against my skin.

  “We’re just getting started.”

  Twenty minutes later, our driver came to a stop in front of what I assumed was our hotel, and as Owen held open my door and helped me out, my jaw dropped to the ground. I turned to face him. “The Ritz, Paris. Really? You’re pulling out all the stops, aren’t you?”

  He squinted up at the building as if it were not a huge deal and glanced back at me, gifting me a lopsided grin. “Is it working?”

  I crossed my arms over my chest and shook my head. He didn’t give me a chance to respond.

  “Good. I’ll take that as a yes.”

  Dragging me along, Owen entered the lobby, and I stood by his side, waiting patiently as he checked in with the front desk concierge. Unlike our fiasco in L.A., our room and key card were already waiting for us, and we were promptly escorted to our room. Like the rest of the building and its interior, wealth and luxury were splashed over every inch of the place. Our suite consisted of two bedrooms, a separate sitting room, a large bathroom with a jacuzzi tub and separate walk-in shower, and private access to the rooftop terrace which offered incredible views of the Eiffel Tower and the roofs of Paris. Draped in expensive white and cream linens, the king-sized bed featured a large tufted headboard and enough pillows to drown yourself in. A crystal chandelier hung overhead, beaming its rainbow of colors across the walls and hardwood floors, and the custom moldings and tall ceilings were unlike anything I’d ever seen.

  I stood and marveled, feeling like a queen in her palace.

  This was too much.

  I turned toward Owen to tell him so, and the moment I did, he scooped me up into his arms—eliciting a high-pitched squeal from me—and tossed me onto the bed. I pushed up on my elbows as he crawled over me, his broad shoulders and strong arms caging me in.

  “And what exactly do you think you’re doing, Mr. Caldwell?”

  He smiled suggestively, his eyes dark and his voice a low growl. “I plan on fucking you until you beg me to stop.” He pressed his hips to mine, the heat of his erection burning right through our layers and scorching my skin.

  Breathless, I cupped the back of his neck and pulled his lips down to mine. “Promise?”

  After making good on his word—fucking me several times on the bed and then again in the shower—Owen and I quickly dressed and set out for an afternoon in the city. When we left New York, he had been adamant that we were pressed for time and that we needed to immediately get on our way, leaving me no chance to pack or bring any of my necessities. The hotel offered some complimentary toiletries, but nothing that would allow me to go a week, much less three, without making a trip to the local stores. I’d just never expected to be visiting stores lining the streets of Paris. The little shops and boutiques were similar to the variety you would find on Fifth Avenue in New York. They catered to the wealthy with their designer labels and designer price tags, and standing in the center of one made my stomach swish uneasily. I was afraid to touch anything, as if the oil on my skin would rub off and somehow cause irreparable damage.

  I felt out of place, to say the least.

  Walking over to a rack of cute sundresses, I sifted through them until I found my size and then fished through the material to locate the price tag. My eyes widened, and I quickly dropped it from my fingers as if the thing had burned right through my flesh, while swallowing down the string of profanities getting ready to leap off my tongue.

  Almost twelve hundred US dollars.

  Were they insane?

  Owen strolled up beside me, lifting his chin and tilting his head to examine the tiny little number I’d been admiring. “That’s a nice one. Why don’t you try it on?”

  “No. No, that's okay.”

  “Why not?”

  I glanced around, making sure no one else was in earshot and whisper-yelled under my breath, “It’s almost twelve hundred dollars!”

  He shrugged his shoulder, clearly unaffected by the price. “Who cares. If you like it, then get it.”

  “No. No way.” I shook my head, unable to justify the absurd and highly inflated cost. “We’ll go elsewhere. I’m sure there is another affordable shop somewhere along this street.” I began to walk away and Owen grabbed my hand, stopping me. He twisted me around, a look of determination on his face.

  “Elle, how many times do you get to go shopping in Paris? I’m serious. If you like it, get it. It’s a beautiful dress and it looks great on the hanger, but I’m willing to bet all twelve hundred of those dollars it looks even better on you.”

  I sighed defeatedly, knowing he wasn’t going to let me walk out of this place without the dress in hand but figuring I’d try to stand my ground and voice my argument anyway. “Owen—”

  Snaking his hands around my waist, he pulled me to him and kissed my nose. “If you want it, then I want you to have it. No matter the cost. Besides...” The corners of his lips twitched. “It won't be the first time I've paid an exorbitant amount of money on a dress for you.”

  I looked at him incredulously, my brows knitting together in momentary confusion. Realization dawned. My dress for Kimmi’s wedding. “Wait a minute. I thought you'd just charmed that evil woman with your charming ways. How much did you spend?”

  “Apparently, I'm not as charming as you might think, Ms. Callihan, and it doesn't matter. Seeing how incredibly beautiful you looked while wearing it, it was worth every single penny I spent.”

  And that’s where the argument ended.

  I begrudgingly grabbed the dress from the rack, and—much to my dissatisfaction—a couple more outfits before trying them on and taking them to the cashier. As the pretty brunette rang up the total and Owen retrieved his credit card from his wallet, I turned my head, feeling sick that I’d allowed him to buy me four outfits the cost of which could’ve provided a three-month supply of food for ten starving families. Once he’d finished paying, he gathered my bags from the counter and then wrapped his arm around my waist, tucking me into his side. We stopped at a few more shops along the way, purchasing shoes and several more outfits for the both of us, and as we passed a lingerie store, I asked him if he’d mind if I slipped inside to take a look around. He kissed my forehead and attempted to give me his credit card, telling me for the hundredth time to get whatever I wanted, and this time, I kindly rejected his offer. I couldn’t afford a whole new wardrobe, but seeing as I no longer needed to send my parents money every month and I had some saved, this would be my gift to him.

  Leaving him on his own, I entered the store with feigned confidence. The
prices were on par with everything else I’d bought that day thus far, and deciding to swallow my pride, I picked out a few sets I thought Owen would take pleasure in seeing me wear and smiled to myself as I imagined his reaction. Other than the obvious language barrier, paying was an easy and hassle-free process.

  As I stepped out of the boutique, my bag full of silk and lace in hand, Owen stood with his back against the white brick building and his leg kicked up, his foot flat against the same surface. God, he was so handsome. He had several new bags of his own, none of which I was able to question before he gathered all of them and placed them in the trunk of the car.

  He took me in his arms. “Are you hungry? Apparently, there is this small café right around the corner from here that serves great food and even better cocktails.”

  I pushed on my toes and kissed his lips. “Starving.”

  By the time we made it back to our hotel, I was exhausted. Jet lag had officially settled into my bones, and I was looking forward to spending the rest of the night curled up in Owen’s arms. The bell boy assisted us in carrying all our bags to our suite, and the moment he disappeared, I quickly shed my clothes from my body, leaving them in a scattered trail behind me as I made my way into the bathroom. I popped my head around the doorframe, asking Owen if he wanted to join me in the jacuzzi tub and feeling a little disappointed when he declined. Even though we were away and on an impromptu vacation, there was still work at the office that needed his attention. Nodding in understanding, I took my time in the bath, the warm water reducing the stress and tension that had seemed to collect in every one of my muscles. When I finished, I wrapped myself in a plush white robe and slipped back into the room.

  Owen sat awake on the bed, his shoulders pressed against the headboard and his laptop on his thighs. Hearing my footsteps, he lifted his head and moved his laptop aside, smiling. “Hey.”