by LP Lovell
“Done.”
One week later…
Why the fuck am I doing this? The lengths I go to for that girl.
I’m sitting in a fucking bush in someone’s back yard, waiting. My phone buzzes and I take it out. It’s a text from Blake asking where I am. I ignore it, and shove it back in my pocket, because how the fuck would I explain where I am?
There’s movement and the porch light turns on before the back door opens and then closes. I can’t see shit in the dark, but I hear the tapping of little claws on the garden path. I throw a piece of ham out onto the path, hoping the damn dog will find it.
The brown wiener dog starts growling at me as soon as he comes into view. He’s ballsy for a short fucker.
“Shh!” I hiss at him, launching the entire pack of ham in front of him. Apparently food is more important than the guy hanging out in the bush, and I manage to grab him and make a break for it before I’m arrested for fucking breaking and entering. I jump in my car and put the dog on the front seat. I hope to fucking god it’s the right dog because otherwise I just kidnapped a random family’s dog.
Like I said…the lengths I fucking go to for Blake.
I wake up and Rhett is nowhere to be seen, but the bed is still warm.
I get out of bed and go for a wee before hunting down coffee and Rhett in that order. I find him making coffee. Winning. He smiles when I walk in the kitchen and cups my face, kissing me.
“Happy birthday, Duchess.”
“Thanks.” I had actually forgotten.
He smirks. “I’ve got you a present.”
I pick up his cup of coffee, taking a mouthful just so I can ensure the appropriate enthusiasm. He grins and it makes me smile, because he’s all giddy, well, as giddy as Rhett could possibly get.
“It’s in the spare room, and it better be the right fucking one. You have no idea what I went through to get it.”
Now I’m really intrigued. I go to the hallway and open the door to the spare room. And there, in the middle of the bed, wagging his little tail, is Peppy. Not a lookalike, not a puppy version, my Peppy.
“Oh, my god!” I scream, scooping him up. If you’ve never had a dog, then you can’t appreciate what this means. You can’t appreciate what it is to lose him and have him back after nearly two years of separation. I sit on the edge of the bed, and he jumps up on my chest, giving me kisses. My vision goes blurry, as tears threaten to spill down my cheeks. I fall back on the mattress laughing as Peppy tries to lick my face.
I kiss his nose. “I missed you, baby.”
I catch Rhett out of the corner of my eye, leaning against the door frame. I jump off the bed and I’m smiling so wide it feels like my face might split. I launch myself into his arms and he catches me as I wrap my legs around his waist and slam my lips on his.
“Thank you.” I breathe against his mouth. “You have no idea how much this means.” Everything, it means everything. Rhett Torres just gave me back the only thing I ever truly loved…aside from him, and it only makes me love him more. And all the fears and insecurities that I had, that vulnerability that I felt, it all washes away. None of it matters because he gets me. He knows what I need, what makes me happy.
Every sappy love story has its moment—the grand gesture. Our story isn’t sappy or romantic in any way, but if ever there were a moment that made me think that just maybe it could be, this is it.
I touch my forehead to his, stroking my hand over his jaw. “I love you.”
He smirks. “I know.”
“Do I even want to know how you got him back?”
He shrugs. “I have my sources.”
“You’re the best.”
He slaps my arse and drops me to the ground. “I know. Now, I have to go do some work.” I pout and he smiles. “But I’ll pick you up at your place tonight. I’m taking you away for the weekend.”
“Like a dirty weekend?”
He kisses my forehead. “It’s a surprise.”
A surprise! A fucking surprise! Men are so…male. Jesus, he can’t just drop this on me last minute. A dirty weekend needs certain preparations. I’m booked for a bikini wax tomorrow, but now we’re leaving for a weekend of dirty sex today and the beautician can’t move it forward. Shit. There is nothing sexy about the hedgehog attached to my fucking vagina right now.
Okay, it’ll be okay. I’ll get Milly to do it. I mean, how hard can it be?
“What the fuck?” I’m staring at shelves full of hair removal stuff.
“I’m telling you, those wax strips in a box won’t do shit except give you sticky pubes, and the proper stuff will probably blister your vag.” Milly says.
“Oh, my god.” I gasp in horror at the thought of a maimed vag. “How are they allowed to sell that shit?” She shrugs. “Helpful. Why did I bring you?”
“Because when in pube drama, I’m your go to girl.”
“Okay, fine. What do you suggest?”
She picks up a box. “Hair removal cream. I once used it on my legs. Smells gross, but it works.”
I take the box from her. Why do I have a feeling this is going to be even more degrading than getting on all fours for Svetlana?
“Oh, my fucking god. Milly!” I shout.
“What?” She calls from my bedroom.
I’m standing in my bathroom in nothing but a t-shirt with this shit smeared all over my minge. Brilliant.
“Is this supposed to burn?”
“Uh, tingle maybe.”
“Nope.” I grip the edge of the vanity. “It’s definitely burning.”
“Well, maybe that just means it’s working.”
“Fuck, what is in this shit?” Jesus, it feels like my vagina is on fire.
She pokes her head around the door and glances at my crotch, covered in the pale pink cream. “It has to dissolve pubes.”
Okay, I’m good. I can handle a little pain. It’s not like a wax is a walk in the park, although that shit lasts a second. This is a lot fucking longer. The burning intensifies, and I’m all for suffering in the name of beauty—or a bald vag—but this is ridiculous.
“Okay, nope. I can’t.” I jump in the shower and pull the head off the wall, turning the water on. I squeak as the cold hits my thighs, but it feels so good on my crotch.
The stuff washes away, leaving behind bright red skin, and a minge that looks like it got chewed by a lawn mower.
“Oh, my god! Rhett cannot fucking look at this!” I shriek.
“It can’t be that bad.” Milly yanks the shower door open and I cover my injured girl. She rolls her eyes. “You know that’s nothing I, and most readers of The Sun, haven’t seen before.”
“Not like this!” Fuck, it’s still burning like a bitch. I step out of the shower and stalk straight through the flat to the kitchen. I rip open the freezer in search of something. Anything. Nope. We have vodka or ice cream in there. Well, Ben and Jerry are going to have to spend the next few minutes pressed against my pussy. I grab the tub and shove it against the burning skin.
“Oh, so good.” I sigh.
“You are such a drama queen.” Milly says from behind me. I turn and lean back against the fridge.
“It’s still burning!”
She places her hands on her hips and shakes her head before dropping to her knees and shoving the ice cream away. I squeak as she grabs my thighs to get a closer look.
“Because this isn’t degrading enough?” I say.
“It’s probably a good thing that you don’t remember half the shit you do when you’re high.” She remarks. “And, I’m pretty sure this is a third degree burn.”
“Those are not words a girl ever wants to hear when discussing her vagina, Milly!”
“Uh, what is going on?” I close my eyes. Nope, this is not happening. I did not just hear Rhett’s voice. Nope. No one could possibly be shat on that much. I slowly squint through one eyelid and yes, there he is, standing the other side of the breakfast bar with the widest fucking grin on his face. “Anything you two ne
ed to tell me?” He cocks an eyebrow and I want to punch him.
When Milly stands up and turns around to face him, I put the ice cream back between my legs. “Uh, well…” She starts.
“Gah! No. Shh.” I hiss at her and storm back to my room. I have never been embarrassed in my life, but I’m mortified right now. This is bad. Really bad.
I flop down on my bed and throw an arm over my face whilst keeping the ice cream in places no ice cream should ever be.
I hear the door creak open, then feel the bed dip next to me.
“Duchess.” There’s a pause. “Look, it’s not that bad.” I lower my arm and glare at him. His lips twitch. “It could be worse.” He snorts, and then he fucking loses it.
“You’re an arsehole!” I slap at his chest. He falls back on the mattress, laughing until tears are pouring down his temples. Prick.
“I hate you.”
He rolls over, pinning me underneath him. “No, you don’t. Want me to kiss it better?”
“No! I don’t want you anywhere near it.”
He cocks a brow. “Well that could be problematic.”
“I’m sorry, is my injured vagina a fucking inconvenience?!” So being female, I’m prone to abnormal bouts of irrational rage, whereby I know I’m being a crazy bitch but there is fuck all I can do about it. It’s like a weird blood lust, where all I feel is the urge to kill him. Slowly.
He’s fighting a smile. “Well, I guess you still have a mouth.”
“You’re a fucking wanker.”
“So that’s a no on the blow job?” He grins.
“Arsehole.” I grumble.
“That works too.” This time when I hit him he jumps off me and laughs as he leaves the room.
Rhett holds the car door open for me, waiting for me to get in.
“Just tell me where we’re going.” I whine.
He shakes his head. “You are so determined to ruin the surprise.”
I huff and drop my hands to my sides. “I already had a surprise.”
“It’s a weekend away, that’s all you need to know.”
“Can’t we bring Peppy with us?” I pout. I only just got him back and now he wants me to go away for the weekend.
“No, he’ll be fine.” Apparently he’s staying with Rhett’s maid Natalie. She seems nice I guess.
He grabs my shoulders and turns me away, placing a kiss on the nape of my neck before forcing me into the car. We drive for what feels like for-fucking-ever. “Okay, I’m going to die of boredom and sobriety before we get there.” I moan.
“I wondered how long you’d last.” He laughs. “Milly packed you a bag on the back seat.”
I grab what looks like a cool bag and drag it to the front. “You should know; I am not a pack a picnic kind of girl.”
“It’s your kind of picnic, Duchess.”
I unzip it to find cans of gin and tonic. Okay, so I’ve never been a classy chick when it comes to booze and drugs. I’ll take it however I can get it.
“This is why I love her: a mutual love of drinking and debauchery.”
His lips kick up in a small smile as he glances in his wing mirror, swerving the car into another lane and flooring the accelerator.
“Is this really necessary?” I whine, clinging to his hand.
“It’s a surprise, Blake.”
“If you bought me a male stripper, it’s really unnecessary. I’ll shove money down your pants if you strip for me.”
He laughs. “No strippers. Step.”
“What?! I am not doing steps with a blind fold on!”
“Fine.” The next thing I know, something hits the backs of my thighs and I’m falling. I scream, but Rhett catches me and cradles me against his chest.
“You’re a dick.” I grumble.
His chest vibrates on a chuckle. Damn, he smells good though. I lean into him, inhaling the familiar scent that should be bottled and labelled simply as ‘Sex’. I press my face into his neck and trace my lips along his throat, scraping my teeth over his jaw.
“Okay.” He drops me unceremoniously, catching me around the waist before I hit the floor.
I rip the blindfold off and meet his smug expression. “Anyone would think you never want your dick sucked again.”
There’s a snort behind me and I freeze. Rhett’s lips twitch as he tries to fight a smile. I narrow my eyes at him, tying to convey his impending pain with a look.
I slowly turn around, and of course, there are fuck knows how many people standing here, and here is a boat.
“Surprise!” They shout.
Rhett takes my hand and I dig my nails into him. At a brief glance, I recognise a few people from the socialite scene. Milly and Felix are closest to us, and they make their way over. A DJ starts playing music, and it seems the party is in full swing almost immediately.
Milly hugs me. “He’s totally a keeper.” She whispers in my ear. “You should definitely suck his dick.”
Felix stays and talks to Rhett while Milly leads me towards the bar. “Happy birthday girl.”
“Thanks. Please tell me you helped with this, otherwise he’s just like some sort of freak of nature. And then I’m going to have to start looking for the ‘but’.”
“The but?”
“Yeah, no one man can be too perfect, there’s always a but. Like, yeah, he’s great, but, he’s into foot wanks, or, he likes to wear nappies in his spare time.”
She snorts. “Um, Rhett does not strike me as the nappy type.”
“But foot wanks are a possibility. See!”
She laughs. “Fuck, I love you. No, I did help a bit.” She shrugs. “Changed out champagne for shots, removed a couple of people from the guest list.”
“Oh, oh, oh…Jenna James?” She nods. “Fuck, I hate that bitch.”
“I got you, babe.” The bar tender places six shots in front of us, and Milly clinks one to mine. “To being twenty-one.”
Two hours later and the boat has moved…somewhere, and is now anchored out at sea. The boat is like a beacon, covered in fairy lights on every available surface. I’m drunk and dancing with Milly. My feet are bare and I’ve lost my bag somewhere along the way, but I don’t care. This is the best party, and Rhett threw it for me. I hold the material of my skirt as I move my hips to the music and twirl in a flurry of coral fabric. A pair of arms wrap around my waist from behind, and I glance over my shoulder to see Felix. He places a quick kiss on my cheek.
“Rhett wants you, baby girl. He’s on the top deck.”
I look up and make out the outline of a lone figure leaning against the top deck railings. Oh, I have a birthday surprise for him all of my own. I manage to make it across the wooden deck, even as the boat gently bobs in the water, making me feel trashed rather than just tipsy. I climb the narrow steps up onto the top deck. It’s darker up here, with only a single string of fairy lights wrapped around the railings.
I don’t see Rhett, and I go to the railing, gripping it and glancing down at the people dancing below, trying to spot him. I smile when I hear a wooden decking board creak behind me. Fingertips brush across my shoulder, moving my hair from my neck before his lips trace the same path his fingers just made. I close my eyes and lean back into his warm body, tilting my head to the side and allowing him access to my neck. His hands wrap around my waist, holding me tight, making me feel safe. Always.
I turn in his arms meeting those golden eyes as he tucks a stray strand of hair behind my ear. His eyes roam over my face, a small smile gracing his lips before he leans in and kisses me. He doesn’t realise it, but even with a simple kiss, he claims me, brands me, owns me completely.
His hand cups my nape, his fingers winding into the hair at the base of my neck. “Happy birthday, Duchess.” He breathes, leaning his forehead against mine. “I have another surprise for you, more of a request really.”
I step away from him, and reach behind me, unzipping my dress. “I’m all about requests.” I smile, dragging my eyes over his body as I push the material of
f my shoulders, letting it fall to the floor.
He smiles as he reaches for me, but I step out of his reach. “But you’ll have to catch me first.” I tease, before making a dash for the railing to the side and climbing up on it.
“Blake!” He shouts, but his voice is lost on the wind as I jump.
I plunge into the cold water and it wraps me in its dark embrace, the frigid temperature causing my lungs to seize. I break the surface and gulp in a breath. The lights from the boat reflect off the surface of the water and it’s so pretty. Everyone rushes to the railing, peering into the darkness.
There’s a big splash a few feet behind me, and my instant thought is ‘shark!’, but of course, a few seconds later and Rhett breaks the surface right in front of me.
“Blake!” There’s an edge of panic in his voice and I laugh.
He treads water, pulling me against his body. His skin feels red hot compared to the surrounding water. “Yeah?” I whisper.
“She’s okay!” He shouts up at the boat though the music still doesn’t start back up. Anyone would think I’d tried to jump off a fucking building. It’s water! “You’re fucking insane.” He mumbles.
“It’s fun.”
“It’s cold.”
I lay back in the water. “But don’t you feel so alive?”
“No, I feel fucking cold.”
I laugh as I cling to his shoulders, allowing him to keep me afloat. His cool lips caress my jaw in just a hint of a kiss. “Before you went all kamikaze on me, I was going to ask you something.” He breathes against my chilled skin.
I tilt my face forward, meeting his gaze. “What were you going to ask me?”
“Marry me, Duchess.” He says.
I freeze and his grip on my waist tightens, holding me up. “That wasn’t a question.” I whisper into the darkness.
“Feel alive." His lips press against the corner of my mouth. “Jump with me. Marry me.”
I have never loved anyone the way I love Rhett, and no one has ever loved me with the kind of raw passion that he does. His love is unconditional, explosive, reverent in the most beautiful and addictive of ways. So why not marry him? Life is a party. You should live every moment like it’s your last. Love hard, take risks, and when someone holds out their hand and asks you to jump with them, do it with both feet.