by Gage Grayson
I notice Maddie propping her head up slightly, watching me as I work, her eyes drifting unhurriedly up and down my chest, my stomach, lower. It’s the same type of studying I remember Maddie doing outside the hotel after our first night together.
Just like then, it’s a challenge to stay in the state I’m in. I’m ready to fuck her brains out, but I want to take my time.
But since I don’t have the tools for a proper massage, and this isn’t an evening for painfully slow buildups, I migrate further up Maddie’s legs.
“Ooh.” Maddie lets out a quiet, subdued moan as I reach her inner thighs. “That was nice.”
Was nice, she says. I take the hint and reposition myself with steady determination.
I lock eyes with Maddie, moving my fingertips around thighs, letting them get achingly close to the borders of her lips.
As I get so close to feeling her pussy, and she maintains her green-eyed gaze, I feel my cock getting even fucking harder. Maddie finally breaks eye contact to take in the show, giggling with delight.
I lower my head down slowly, my dick continuing to harden at the sight of Madeline’s beautiful pussy. These are the moments that I live for, quite literally. All the garbage, the inescapable daily annoyances, and the cumulative fucking stress and the endless bullshit that we all deal with…at this moment it is all more than fucking worth it.
It’s even more worth it when Madeline lifts her knees up further and throws her legs wide open, allowing me to lie down on my side and go the fuck to town.
I start licking around the perimeter like usual, but she’s already thrusting her cunt towards me. I use my sideways position to perform a leisurely, diagonal run of my tongue from the far lower left side of her pussy lips, running up to the upper right.
Maddie squeaks abruptly.
“That’s good...” she says in a somewhat higher register than usual, “Let’s continue down this road.”
I move the softened edge of my tongue down the crease of her right thigh and I start another diagonal run in the other direction.
“Oh, fuck, Ethan! How is that possible―never stop doing that, oh my god!”
I want to take Maddie to the same heights she took me and then some, and I think that’s a sign I’m getting close. I make a couple more slow laps across the entirety of Maddie’s wet pussy as she moans and sweeps her hands wildly across the carpet.
I slow the pace of my tongue more as I move into more of a classic figure-eight pattern, which is accompanied by the fucking perfect sound of Madeline screaming so loud that I swear I hear the furniture rattle.
“Keep going, keep going, I promise I won’t scream again,” she pleads.
I’m also pretty sure she knows I’m going to keep it up regardless, and I do, and she belts out another blood-curdler that may be loud enough to hear in both Japan and California.
As Madeline raises her cunt further into the air, I get up on my knees and move my tongue up through the center. I gently press part of my tongue against her clit, then thrust my tongue inside her dripping cunt before Madeline comes crazy fucking hard.
I wait until her climax subsides, keeping my tongue pressed to her clit as she writhes under my touch. Pretty soon, she recovers.
“Okay,” she breathes, “that was good for dry cleaning.”
Reading my mind, Madeline hoists herself up and excitedly races to the sofa. The sofa is covered with a large bedsheet for some reason, and as I watch Maddie sit her bare ass down on it, I realize why.
Madeline pats the spot next to hers, and crosses her legs in a way that could drive a lesser man fucking insane.
I stride over, cock in hand, as Madeline watches in sheer glee.
“Let me get that for ya.” Madeline reaches her hand out as I get closer, opening and closing it as if that’ll get me there faster.
I stop right in front of where Maddie is sitting and free my cock for her to grab.
Which she does, the feeling sending fiery shivers of pleasure in each and every direction. Madeline keeps her hand wrapped tightly around the middle of my cock as she eases onto her back. Somehow, we get ourselves into a decent position despite there not being too much space on the sofa.
Of course, it helps that Maddie lifts one leg straight up into the air so I have room to kneel on the end of the couch and we can fuck like crazy.
Does that all sound romantic? Well, the moment I take that magnificent plunge into the realm of overpowering, ineffable carnal oblivion, feeling Madeline’s dazzlingly beautiful spirit coursing through every fiber of the immense pleasure we are giving each other and building together, I’m finally beginning to understand what the word romance might actually mean.
Ethan
It turns out this front room sofa is also comfortable for sleeping. The sound of birds greeting the sunrise, the waves crashing nearby, even the staff vacuuming outside has all provided only brief lapses in slumber before drifting back into one of the best rests of my life.
Of course, it doesn’t hurt at all to have the extraordinary being that is Madeline resting on top of me, both of us wrapped up in this enormous bedsheet and nothing else.
That ringtone is getting to be annoying, I’ll admit. I don’t know if it’s some staff members outside or what.
It can’t be Madeline’s; she keeps sleepily asking what it is when it goes off.
There it goes again. Maybe it’s time and to get up anyway, and... fuck, Madeline’s already gone.
That incessant fucking electronic beeping is still fucking going, and I’m waking up to a world where Madeline has drifted away yet again...
I rub my temples. I know that I keep saying I’m okay with it, that Maddie is a fling, part of a fantastic week that’ll always be nothing but a memory, but feeling the lack of the beautiful, perfect weight of her body holding me in this new, wonderful place that is my life—well, I don’t know.
I’m rubbing my face and my eyes. Everything that happened last night just makes this all the more fucking painful. I may have been fine if I hadn’t fucking bothered.
Maybe not fine, but better, at least.
“It can’t get any worse.” I gotta stop saying shit out loud.
“What was that?”
The siren song. There it is.
“Holy shit, babe. I thought you left me again.”
I’ve got a grin of relief and just general happiness plastered across my face as I turn to see that absurdly stunning face, that gorgeous body, that golden hair that I already know is shimmering in the morning sunlight.
Even hearing her voice and smelling her scent is enough to fill me with motivation to get up and see what the day has to offer.
Seriously. When was the last time I felt like that? Possibly fucking never.
Not until now.
Okay, maybe I’m going a little nuts here. I try to dial back the shit-eating grin a bit before turning to look at Maddie.
I still have what I hope is a warm smile when I turn my head to look at Maddie, who’s dressed in a resort bathrobe with her torn dress slung over the shoulder.
“Hey, I’ll buy you another dress.”
I’m about to start laughing, but Maddie’s staring daggers. She’s also holding my phablet.
“You ever fucking pick this thing up?”
“Uh, no, actually. Was the ringing coming from there? Sorry, it’s brand-new. I had no idea.”
“Shut the fuck up.”
I do laugh a little, sitting up on the sofa.
“I’ll put it on silent if you want to get a bit more...”
“Who the fuck is Audra?”
You know how I love to complain about the cold, lonely air in the honeymoon suite? Because now it feels like there’s no fucking air at all and I’m about to fucking suffocate.
I inhale deeply, trying not to have another bout of panic as Madeline stares at me with furious green eyes.
I need to explain that I’m not married to Audra. It was never actually official, and she made it very clear she
wanted it to be over, anyway.
But my mouth feels too arid to even speak, and my heart’s pounding in my ears, and I can’t even think of the right words to start explaining.
I’m sure my silence is worse, though.
“It’s complicated.” Well, that’s a terrible fucking start. “What did she say?”
Fuck. Keep fucking digging, buddy.
“She said...” Goddammit, Maddie’s talking through her fucking teeth. “She said that she made a huge mistake.”
A sudden tension headache starts burrowing its way into my forehead, immediately getting worse. I start rubbing my temples, which I’m sure looks really bad.
But all I need is a chance to explain.
I hold my hand up.
“Madeline, I want to answer your question of who Audra is...”
“She said,” Madeline continues, stalking in my direction, my oversized phone looking like it might shatter in her livid hand, “she said she didn’t want your MARRIAGE to be OVER!”
One good thing I can say about this sudden storm of shit, and about the only good thing I can say about this or anything that’ll probably ever happen again in my life, is that when Madeline pitches the phone at my head with the intensity of Pedro Martinez throwing a fastball, the device lands safely on the sofa instead of hitting the wall.
The only way it could’ve gone better is if she beamed me in the fucking head.
The worst part is, I’m thinking like a guilty person. Like a guy who actually is married and tried to hide it, and now my big secret is out.
In this case, it just appears that way. And because of the circumstances, there’s no way to convince Maddie of the truth. But that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t tell the fucking truth.
“This was supposed to be my honeymoon...our honeymoon.”
Madeline looks around like it’s her first time in this room. She’s probably thinking about how she should have been suspicious about this.
This horrible story is all coming together for her. It’s an untrue story, but the more it comes together the less likely I can convince her of it.
“In the honeymoon suite,” she whimpers softly. “It’s so fucking perverse.”
“I’m not married,” I announce loud enough for anyone to hear.
Maddie doesn’t bat an eye. I just told her the crux of this whole thing, the most important piece of the puzzle that she just happens to be missing, but to her it’s just another fucking lie that’s not even worth acknowledging.
Madeline’s lips are forming into a scowl. I’ve never seen her look anything like this. I’ve seen her make all sorts of aggressive, angry faces, but those were jokes, just adorable, sexy messing around while posing for a photo or something.
This expression is something she can’t help—it comes from genuine hurt and anguish, and it’s breaking my fucking heart.
“I can’t fucking believe it,” she states evenly, her face flushed with rage. “I can’t fucking believe this is happening. This has to be a nightmare.”
I take another deep breath, preparing to convey the truth as believably as I’m capable of.
“There was a wedding...”
“Shut up! Shut the fuck up! I never want to hear your voice again!”
When she’s in the mood to be, Maddie is absolutely one of the most articulate and intelligent people I’ve ever met. She doesn’t have an ounce of pretense, but after getting to know her over these past few days, I’ve no doubt that she puts every one of the myriad self-declared financial geniuses I’ve had to deal with to shame in the brains department.
But right now, she’s being carried away on a tide of emotions, and her words are becoming terse and basic beyond the point of rationality.
Maddie’s almost completely red as she stands in the middle of the room, the false reality of the situation coming down on her with more weight than she can bear.
Like I said, it breaks my heart.
“Maddie,” I say, trying to plead but subtly trying to get one last chance to break through this horrible web of bullshit, “all I need is two minutes...”
“And what?” Fuck, she’s talking through her teeth again. “You can explain? There’s nothing to explain. You’re mar—”
I didn’t think Maddie was going to cry, but she’s coming close now. I don’t think I could bear the sight.
At least Maddie stops herself from crying. The color is draining from her somewhat, but I don’t know if that’s a good thing.
“The way I see it,” Maddie continues with unnerving calmness, “your actions, your deceitful, disgusting fucking actions have cast a long, dark shadow over what was supposed to be one of the brightest times of my life. I was really looking forward to the future, near and far.”
I want to tell her that I was too. Instead, I say nothing—because this is a uniquely horrible fucking situation in which telling the truth won’t make a bit of difference.
A patch of sunshine comes beaming through the window, bathing the borders of Maddie’s hair in an ethereal glow—the kind of glow I hoped to see before I turned my head.
But that was a few minutes ago, and now all I can feel is the heartbreak, the anguish of seeing Maddie in serious pain but being able to do fucking nothing about it.
I want to tell her that the only thing I want in the world is for her to be happy again.
But she’d never believe it, and she’s already walking out the door.
Ethan
“Just having a nightmare.”
That’s the shit I’m saying out loud to myself this time.
Waking up naked on the beach, under the bright, warm midmorning sun, saying that wondrous name, I didn’t realize that shit was about to peak—that I was at the start of a honeymoon.
At the end of the week, I wake up naked, alone in the air-conditioned room, with the midmorning sun still there but hiding somewhere outside the window. I’m talking about nightmares—bad dreams and bad reality.
What a difference a few days can make.
At this point, it’s all about the obligations.
The obligation I have to pack up my shit and vacate this suite. The obligation I have to fly back home to return to work so I can pay off my stupid goddamn house in Riverdale.
After that, I have no fucking clue. I’m sure there’ll be something.
But it’s not for me anymore. I don’t care about any of it.
I don’t even care about myself.
One of those things that makes life worthwhile for me is the feeling of hunger gnawing away at me in the morning, along with the vestiges of sleep, knowing that I’m about to enjoy breakfast and coffee to make short work of all of it.
None of that this morning, though. I sit up on the oversized bedsheet draped over the sofa, my bare feet touching down on the scratchy carpet.
All I feel is this dumbass, churning, anxious nausea. I couldn’t picture eating anything anytime soon.
And fuck fucking coffee.
I throw on a black T-shirt and dark-blue jeans. It’s the type of approach to fashion I admire—comfortable and unassuming and who gives a shit what anyone else thinks—but it’s not something I’ve had the balls to try myself until now.
Fucking sandals—I packed them and unpacked them into the suite closet, but all week I’ve been getting a touch of nausea whenever I considered putting them on.
I’ve got bigger concerns right now. Or do I? I just put on the sandals for once.
I float like a half-there ghost down the hallway and down the elevator. The lobby seems quiet and peaceful today, saturated by the type of vibe Hawaii’s supposed to have all the time.
So do I feel at peace walking through there?
No, I don’t feel much of anything. It doesn’t bother me. I just don’t give a shit how I feel or what’s going to happen to me next.
The sky is totally cloudless when I step outside, just that classic shade of blue you only see on postcards in brochures. If I weren’t seeing it with my own eyes, I’d think
it was photoshopped or something.
It looks nice. It looks like this past week. That steely gray overcast color of the sky when I took that photo—that’s more in line with what I’m accustomed to.
She’s a rarity in this world, bringing color and clarity that no one else can. It doesn’t matter if I ever see her again, but I can’t let that spirit fade.
I need to see her just one more time, to tell her that.
To make sure that she’s going to be okay.
To tell her not to let my ridiculous ass ruin what she has to offer the world.
To make sure that Maddie will always be Maddie, because right now that’s all I care about.
The sky’s so fucking blue as I shuffle across the beach in these goddamn sandals that it’s borderline fucking oppressive. I don’t think I’ve had anything to eat in close to twenty-four hours, but the bar just happens to be open.
I’m not thinking about too much right now, and I’m feeling even less, but the several empty barstools look plenty inviting at the moment, and the smiling barkeep, who already knows me well, will remain a pleasant memory.
That may be the one thing for me to latch onto from this whole honeymoon.
“Captain’s Dilemma?” the bartender questions as I climb onto the middle stool. “Or Lava Lava?”
“One of each.”
He doesn’t bat an eye and turns his back to get to work straightaway. Within a few seconds, the sound of the blender overpowers the vicinity, and my thoughts drift to the already furthering memories of the past few days.
I can’t keep myself from seeing Maddie’s face in the back wall of the bar, thinking about her laugh and the now-destroyed sundress, picturing her sly smile, her flirty smirk, her unapologetically elated grin and, of course, that one smile full of sweetness with the hint of surprising depths of feeling and thought.
That smile that I first noticed sitting in this very barstool...it seems like yesterday, since it practically was.
Her face now is nothing like that; it’s a faint redness of crushing emotional distress, and her mouth is molded into a resigned frown that looks like it’ll never leave...