by Mimi Strong
I touch him, and his whole body stiffens to match the length in my hand. He feels like he might burst, like he hasn’t had release since Italy.
He doesn’t have to tell me as much, because I know. I can feel it in his body, in his energy. And I know him.
This is why he has the beard. He hasn’t touched himself in any way since he abandoned me in Italy. He’s been punishing himself. I’ve gone easy on him, compared to how he is to himself.
He groans and thrusts himself against my hand.
He needs me, and now I’m here.
I step backward, toward the low bed. He moves with me.
We walk back as one, and lower ourselves to the bed.
I reach down to help him remove his jeans, but I’m distracted by his hands, all over me. His mouth is on my breast, and then on the other, sucking hard on my nipple. With the suction, electricity ripples through me.
I’m hot again, on my back, opening my legs to him. I reach again for his jeans, fighting to get them down while also using my grip on the waistband to pull him against me.
He’s gasping as he kisses me, his breath ragged with urgency and his movements stiff.
Somehow, we get his jeans and underwear down just enough to free him. He moves his body up along mine, pressing his hardness against my inner hip. He’s so firm, he could bruise me. I can feel the difficulty of his restraint as he kisses me, pressing his lips hard against mine.
I tilt my lower body and press against him. He reaches down and locks his fingers around the sides of my hips, holding me still and pressing me down.
“Shh,” he says, even though I didn’t say anything.
He wants me to slow down, so it’s not over too quickly. I whimper and thrust my tongue into his mouth. He lets out a surprised sound, moaning into my lips.
I tilt my hips again, arching my back and writhing underneath him. He thrusts in reflex, sliding hard in the tight space between our bodies.
He groans, and then he hunches his shoulders forward, pulling his hips away. He pulls away from my mouth and looks down into my eyes.
I need him inside me, and I can’t wait any longer.
My hands are on his lower back. I move them down and clutch his round muscles. I dig my fingertips in.
He is positioned between my legs, the tip so close. I can’t feel it against my skin yet, but I sense him there, ready to enter me.
I widen my eyes and dig my fingertips into his flesh.
He moves slowly, like he’s taking my virginity again. He enters me, one slow, hard inch at a time. The whole time, he doesn’t take his eyes off mine. He barely blinks.
I writhe underneath him, squirming with pleasure. This isn’t like our first time, where there was a pinch, a sharp pain with the pleasure. This time, the only pain comes from him moving too slowly.
The more I try to lift my hips and urge him deeper, the slower he goes. He pushes in, then pulls back. One step closer, one step back.
I let go and allow my arms to fall back on the bed. I stretch out completely, my arms wide on either side. I let my knees fall out to the sides, then stretch my legs out. He wants it slow? I can go slow.
I lift my chin, stretch my head up, and close my eyes.
“Don’t go to sleep,” he murmurs.
“I’m tired.” I try to play it straight, but there’s a grin on my face. He knows I’m not tired.
“Shh,” he says.
I squirm under him like I’m getting comfortable, and then reach for a pillow for my head. He chuckles and then pulls out of me. I keep my eyes closed, pretending I don’t care.
I can hear the rustling of his clothes, of his jeans being removed the rest of the way. I bite the inside of my lower lip, my insides trembling with anticipation.
He pauses, naked now and kneeling between my legs.
I let out a sigh like I’m ready to drift off to sleep, then I roll onto my side.
He doesn’t say anything, but I can hear him breathing. I feel his hand on my leg, at my ankle. He strokes the side of my leg, all the way up to my hip.
He growls, “You sleepy?”
“Jet lag,” I murmur. “Mmm. This bed is comfy. I can see why you’re camping out here.”
“I guess we could go to sleep,” he says.
Instead of answering, I lift one leg and playfully push against his chest with the ball of my foot.
He grabs my leg firmly and uses it to pull me toward him.
I roll onto my stomach and grab my pillow.
He lets go of my leg and gives me a playful swat on my butt. It stings, but feels good. I hug my pillow tighter to my chest and let out a moan.
He growls in response and slaps my butt again.
I groan and writhe my body, still on my stomach. As he spanks me again, I tilt my hips and grind myself against the bed like it’s my lover.
I feel his powerful hands on my thighs, pulling my legs apart. I hold my breath and wait silently. He quickly grabs me by the hip bones and lifts my lower body straight up in one powerful movement. I gasp and steady myself on my knees.
He’s between my legs again, first with his fingers. I’m slippery and hot. He groans, his voice low and thick with lust, and then he enters me. My body shakes as thrusts into me. Everything quivers when he reaches the end of each stroke.
There’s no slowing down now, only urgency. His fingers grip my hips tightly, slamming me against him. I cry out for more.
He grabs a handful of my hair and tugs my head back as he drives deeper and deeper.
I start to climax again, my whole body bright and glowing.
He lets out a low groan, and our cries mix together, high and low, in harmony.
There’s a gush of heat inside me as he releases.
The moment stretches out to eternity, and I’m flooded with him, filled with our beauty.
We’re together.
Our voices keep mixing together, along with our breath and our heat and our bodies.
This is serenity.
Chapter Eight
We lay in silence on the low mattress. The ceiling is so far away when you’re not on a bed frame or box spring.
I tell Dylan this, and he laughs at me. Then he goes quiet and says, “Wow, you’re right.” He reaches up, stretching his fingers to the ceiling. “What if the world was suddenly upside down and we fell onto the ceiling?”
I stretch my hands out. “I’m ready.”
The lamp is still on, filling the room with a warm glow. I don’t know what time it is, but I could probably sleep, if I close my eyes.
We both giggle and stretch out our arms and feet, bracing ourselves for this imaginary fall.
He reaches for my left hand and rubs his thumb over the diamond of my engagement ring.
“You’re still wearing this,” he says.
I pull my hand away from his and to my chest. The mood turns serious. I turn to him. “Are we still engaged?”
“I don’t know.” He reaches for my hand again and pulls at the ring. It’s a perfect fit, nice and snug, and it takes him a few seconds to pull the ring off.
I’m so shocked, I don’t know what to say.
He sits up and gets onto his knees on the bed. I also sit up and clutch the sheets to my chest. I can feel the worry line between my eyebrows returning.
He kisses the ring, then palms it and makes a fist around it.
“Jessica Rivera, I’m sorry I left you in Italy. You shouldn’t marry a guy who’d do that to you. That’s why I swear, right now, that no matter what happens, I will never leave you again. Not unless you want me to, for your own good.”
My breath catches in my throat. “I don’t want you to leave me.”
He holds out his fist and opens it, palm up.
“Jessica Rivera, will you forgive me for being every bit as bad as the reporters make me out to be?”
“You’re not really that bad.”
“Will you marry me?” he asks.
His eyes are glossy, the deep brown lit by gold gl
ints.
I look down at the ring. This is it. He proposed to me once before, and I knew he loved me then. We thought our problems were behind us, and it was time to start the Happily Ever After.
But a lot of life has happened since then. I can’t pretend my life is a fairy tale, or a happy song that’s the same every time you play it.
This time, when I take the ring, I know what it comes with.
“You can think about it,” he says.
“I do want to marry you.”
“Then take the ring and say yes.”
I try to move my hands, but my whole body is frozen. Something isn’t right.
“It’s been a long day,” I say.
He takes the ring between his fingers and examines it, turning it in the light. “Jess, it’s just a ring. If we let a ring have any power over us, or intimidate us, it’s no different than letting in fame, or the press, or anything from the outside world.”
I force myself to look up into his eyes. “What are you saying?”
“That we don’t need a ring for me to know that you’re mine. Or that you love me.”
“I love you, Dylan. I honestly do.” I look down at the ring again, confused by everything. Now that it’s not on my finger, I feel lighter. I’m not here with Dylan because it’s expected of me, but because I want to be here.
“Look around you,” he says. “Do you care that it’s just the two of us here, on a mattress on the floor?”
“Of course not.”
“Nobody knows we were going to get married here this weekend. There’s nothing arranged, nothing to cancel.”
“Okay,” I say slowly. “Um. What?”
“Let’s spend the weekend here together. Instead of standing in that atrium out there with a bunch of people staring at us, let’s…” He trails off, like he had a plan in mind, and we’ve just reached the end of it.
“Camp out together?”
He grins. “Yes. Let’s both take a few days off work and just relax.” He holds the ring out to me. “And if you want the ring and all the other stuff, that’s okay, too. My purpose in life is to make one person happy, and that person is you.”
“Dylan, I don’t need the ring. All I ever wanted is you.”
He tosses the ring over his shoulder, into a pile of laundry.
I squeal in horror. There’s a heater vent nearby, and it could have fallen into the vent.
Dylan chuckles at me. “You do like the ring.”
“The ring is gorgeous.” I playfully swat him on the chest.
“You’re gorgeous.”
He wraps his arms around my torso and leans down to kiss me.
One kiss turns into another.
He hooks his hands under my armpits and lowers me back onto the bed. We keep kissing, until he’s inside me, and our bodies are moving as one.
Yes, I tell him with every arch of my back. Yes, with every sigh on my lips. We’re together because we want to be together. I never wanted a ring, I only ever wanted him.
Chapter Nine
In the morning, my brain is fuzzy and I’m confused about where I am. But I don’t care, because I can feel Dylan beside me.
I open my eyes and look around the room. Something on top of a pile of laundry glints in the morning sunshine. It’s my engagement ring, still sitting where Dylan tossed it last night.
The ring is out of reach, but I make a mental note of where it is. My phone is next to the bed, so I grab it and check for messages. I talked to Riley and Amanda last night using Dylan’s phone, since mine is still hacked. I let them know I hadn’t been kidnapped by a stranger—just by Dylan.
Amanda has sent me a text message this morning: Now that you’ve finally dumped him for good, I’ve got some great guys to set you up with!
I’m startled for an instant when I see her message, then I remember we planned this last night, before I finally went to sleep. We don’t want to let on that I know about my hacked phone, or that Dylan and I are back together. If these people find out I’m back in his arms, I don’t know what they’ll do. I don’t want to find out.
I send Amanda a message: Find me someone who’s not a sensitive artist. After everything with Dylan, I don’t want anyone who is even remotely like him.
She replies: I know just the guy. He’s an MMA fighter, not an artist. Look at the picture. This is Parker. I’m not sure if he’s single right now, but I’ll make some calls and check for you.
She has included a photo of a really muscular guy, in a boxing pose. He’s got beautiful tattoos running up his bicep onto his shoulder. Looking at the photo makes me feel a touch guilty, like I really am setting up a date with this guy.
Maybe that wouldn’t be such a bad thing, though. I could see this guy for dinner and a photo opportunity. The Los Angeles MMA guys don’t mind getting their pictures in the press.
I send Amanda a message: Wow, he’s gorgeous. Where do I sign up?
She sends me a message with some suggestions about what I might do with this Parker guy to calm him down after one of his fights. Her message makes me blush, and I guiltily toss my phone back into my purse.
Dylan stirs beside me and flops one arm over my side, then pulls me into him. I’m still feeling funny about pretending to make dates with an MMA fighter, so I let out a nervous giggle.
“Hey,” he growls, his voice thick and raspy from sleep. “What’s so funny?”
“Amanda, mostly. And us. And this whole situation.”
“Life is funny.” He squeezes me tight, pressing my back to his chest.
“It wasn’t so funny yesterday when you kidnapped me and brought me here. You know, you could have just asked me, in the car ride.”
“You might have said no.”
The glinting engagement ring catches my eye again. How can he just leave it there, sitting on top of crumpled jeans? No, I can’t talk to him right now about the engagement. He’s right about us needing some time together with no pressure. I try to push the ring out of my mind.
“You’re a kidnapper,” I say, teasing him.
“Mmm. I’m gonna keep you here forever. My prisoner of love. I’ll buy an island and put you in a tower on the island.”
I pull my eyes away from the glinting diamond ring and look around us at the messy room. There’s a crumpled McDonald’s takeout bag over in one corner.
“You went to McDonald’s without me?” I roll over to face him and pretend to be deeply offended. “That’s our special place. How could you?”
He grins and rubs his dark beard thoughtfully. “I shouldn’t have gone, because it only made me miss you more. Then I had to eat all of the fries by myself, and now I’ve got a french-fry belly.”
I reach down under the covers and try to squeeze his so-called french-fry belly. There’s nothing but muscle and smooth, warm skin. He flexes for me, showing off.
I let my arm relax, resting my hand on the side of his waist. It feels good to be together and naked, with nothing between us.
He grabs the arm I’m using to prop up my head and stretches it out toward him. He lays my arm along the bed and uses my bicep as a pillow for the side of his face. He shifts his body closer to me, so our knees are touching, and gazes into my eyes.
With my hand on his waist, I feel like our bodies are forming a closed circuit of intimacy. In between us is love.
“I’m glad you stayed over.” He closes his eyes and rolls his head forward to kiss my bare shoulder. “This place really needed a woman’s touch.”
I let out a small chuckle. “And a housekeeper.”
He kisses my shoulder again, shifting even closer to me. He nudges my knees apart with his leg, then rests his firm thigh between my thighs.
Gruffly, he says, “Do you know what else needs your woman’s touch?”
“Let me guess.”
My hand is still on his waist. He flexes his muscles with a suggestion. I let my hand slide down, then let out a surprised sound at what I find.
He moans in response, the
n kisses my shoulder again. As I squeeze him and move my hand up and down, the space between us fills with energy.
We’re both quiet as I use my hand to tease him. The energy between us grows, and I start to rock my hips in rhythm with my moving arm.
He inhales deeply, then slides his leg up between my legs, opening me to him. He reaches over to me with a slow, gentle hand.
His touch is a revelation, making me gasp. His fingers slide along, my excitement making his fingertips glide. He applies pressure, finding my nub.
I let out a soft moan. It feels so good, I’m utterly distracted, and my hand slows to a stop on his length. He doesn’t need my touch there, anyway, because it couldn’t get more hard than it is.
He brings his thigh up between my legs, and as he pulls away his fingers, he presses his leg against me. In response, I squeeze my legs together on his thigh and rock my hips, grinding against him.
He lets out an encouraging groan and grabs my hip to press me against his leg and increase the pressure. I keep rocking my hips, and now I’m breathing heavily. This feels good, but it’s not enough.
We kiss, both of us breathing heavily as the energy between us becomes more electrified. He holds me steady with one hand on my hip, so I’m riding his firm thigh, and he kisses my neck, my shoulder, and then my neck again.
I softly call out his name, and he nibbles my earlobe in response.
I tell him I need him inside me, and he immediately pulls away and rolls onto his back. He grabs me by the waist and lifts me over to him.
The sheets fall away, and we’re bare and naked on the plain white sheets, in the golden sun.
He sets me down slowly. My legs are spread wide, around his hips, and I lower myself onto him. I’m sensitive from last night, and the initial friction pulls at my skin as he slides in. The pressure is nearly enough to send me over the edge, but I hold on, taking it slow.
I keep myself upright, sitting astride him, and I can feel his eyes on my breasts. He reaches for my legs and slides both palms up the sides of my thighs.
I flex those muscles to ride up on him and then slide down, taking him deeper. I can see the tension in his body as his chest and stomach muscles flex with even the smallest movement of his hips beneath mine.