by Amira Rain
I usually wasn't one to become misty or cry on a near-daily basis, but pregnancy seemed to be changing that.
Fighting mightily not to cry at present, I swallowed a lump in my throat before continuing in what I hoped was a fairly cool, unemotional manner.
"You don't need to speak to me like we just met."
Just then, a short distance down the hallway, the elevator doors dinged open and a slim young man dressed in a waiter's uniform got out carrying a large paper bag. When he saw me, which was almost immediately, his steps seemed to slow, but he continued on down to Desmond's door.
When he reached us, he briefly looked between the two of us with an expression that made me think he knew he'd come upon an awkward situation; then he said good evening, apparently addressing both of us. When Desmond and I responded tersely, he looked even a bit more uncomfortable.
"Commander Grant, was I supposed to bring up two dinners, or...or is just the one still all you'd like?"
Now the young man was very pink-faced, throwing his light freckles into sharp relief. Desmond looked just about as uncomfortable, shifting his gaze to a point somewhere down the hallway and hesitating in his response, which I wasn't even sure how he issued, being that he seemed to be grinding his teeth.
"No, Ryan, I'd like two dinners now. I suppose."
With the lump in my throat now completely gone, I scoffed.
"Oh, you 'suppose,' Desmond? Well, how could I turn down a chivalrous dinner invitation like that?" Before Desmond could respond, I shifted my gaze to the young waiter. "You don't need to bring him up an additional dinner, Ryan. Just the one you brought will be fine, because he'll be eating alone tonight, the way he apparently likes it."
Looking almost comically uncertain, Ryan looked from me to Desmond and tentatively began extending the large paper bag, seeming to be studying Desmond's face for any sign of approval.
"So, if this will be all, then, Commander Grant...."
Desmond took the bag, frowning. "Please bring us up another dinner, Ryan. Miss Bennett seems to be in some sort of a mood tonight-"
"I'm in a...a what?"
"But I have a feeling it might be hunger-related, so go ahead and bring us up another dinner."
"I'm in a what, Desmond? I thought I heard you say a 'mood,' but as that's offensive on a thousand different levels, I know you wouldn't dare-"
"Better hurry, Ryan. She seems to be getting hungrier."
I actually gasped. "How dare you, Desmond. How dare you. And you, Ryan...don't you dare even think about going back down for another dinner. You ignore him completely. He has no clue about my hunger level."
Eyes wide with what almost looked like fear, Ryan glanced between me and Desmond, then slowly began taking a step backward.
"So, I guess I'll just...."
"Just go get another dinner, Ryan, please. Miss Bennett is being stubborn and ridiculous, and I think a good meal-"
"Don't you dare take another step, Ryan. At least not to go get another meal. I won't be eating with Commander Grant tonight. I'm actually not even hungry in the least, which just proves he's insane."
I hadn't been hungry when I'd come up to Desmond's penthouse, anyway. But now that I was picking up a heavenly aroma coming from the bag that he was holding, I was starting to get maybe just a bit hungry, maybe even more than a bit, though I didn't want him to know that.
Glancing between the two of us, Ryan was looking pretty close to petrified.
"So...so, no second meal, then? So, is it okay if I go back down to the restaurant, and if the two of you want a second meal later, you can call down, and someone else will bring it up?"
Even while he'd been speaking, Ryan had already been inching his feet backward, toward the elevator. And it suddenly hit me how terribly uncomfortable Desmond and I had made him, and that certainly hadn't been my intent. Not like I had any clue what my intent had been the previous few minutes.
After shooting Desmond what I hoped was a very clear look of warning, I told Ryan to go ahead and go back down to order another meal.
"Please have it delivered to my apartment on the eighty-fifth floor, though, because that's where I'm headed right now. I've had enough of Commander Grant for one evening."
Before Desmond could respond, I took Ryan by the sleeve and kind of briskly began leading him down the hallway. He didn't look back, and neither did I. Desmond didn't follow us or call after us, and soon I heard his door close.
Once in the elevator heading down, Ryan and I both kind of just stared at the walls, but the silent awkwardness was too much for me after a few seconds, and I truly did feel bad.
"Ryan, I'm really sorry about all that. Commander Grant and I should have never put you in the middle like that."
With his pink face reddening a little further still, Ryan said not to worry about it.
"If it's not too bold for me to say, though, I just hope you and Commander Grant don't put your child in the middle like that. It's really not a fun place to be."
I couldn't hold back a sudden, brief laugh that was part laugh of amusement and part laugh of sympathy for poor Ryan, if there could be such a thing as a laugh of sympathy.
"I apologize again, Ryan, really. I hope the rest of your evening is more pleasant than what you just had to experience."
He thanked me just as the elevator door dinged open on my floor, and I got out with a wave, realizing that he was absolutely right that a child should never be put in the middle like he'd been. Not that that would be a problem for Desmond and me, being that Desmond was seemingly determined not to be around during his child's raising.
When I got inside my apartment, I realized I was suddenly ravenous, and I quickly made a sandwich, completely forgetting that Ryan would probably be up soon with a meal. After practically inhaling my sandwich, I moved on to have a bowl of cereal at a much more leisurely pace, getting into the tail end of a TV show in the process.
Once the show was over, I turned off the TV and made a bagel sandwich with sliced strawberries and cream cheese in the middle, deciding to just continue snacking my way through dinner. And that was when someone knocked on my door, and I remembered that Ryan was supposed to be bringing me up a meal.
Despite the fact that the knocking had sounded a bit more authoritative than I might have expected from Ryan, I opened the door without even looking through the peephole, not thinking it would be anyone but him. However, it was.
Desmond stood holding the paper bag of food that Ryan had brought up to his penthouse.
"I brought this down for you, because who knows how long your additional meal might take, and I didn't want you to have to be hungry in the meantime. I'll take the second meal."
I just looked at him for a second with something in my heart seeming to have melted of its own accord.
"Will you please come in?"
CHAPTER 12
In response to my question, Desmond first raked a hand through his thick hair.
"I think I should just give you your meal, then be on my way."
"But, why, though? Why won't you come in? What are you afraid of happening?"
Becoming fixated on Desmond's full lips for some reason, I was beginning to realize what I was afraid of happening, though I wasn't sure if I was really exactly afraid. A tiny part of me might have even been hopeful. Pregnancy hadn't only kicked my appetite for food into overdrive.
I knew what I was thinking was nuts, probably more evidence of the non-prudent thinking that had led me to jump into bed with Desmond in the first place. Try as I might, though, I couldn't not think it, and as he took a step closer to me, with his gaze seeming to be fixated on my own lips, I thought maybe he was having the same sort of thoughts, too. And when he spoke in a low, husky voice, standing just inches away from me, my suspicions were confirmed.
"What am I afraid of about coming into your apartment? This, just for starters."
Quickly, before I could really even process what was happening, he pulled me close, brought his
mouth to mine, and began kissing me with startling intensity. Though startled as I was, I almost instantly seemed to melt in his arms, just like something in my heart had done when he'd said what he had about taking the second meal so that I wouldn't have to be hungry waiting for mine.
Still holding my bagel in one hand, I wrapped my arms around his neck, giving myself over to our passionate kiss. Desmond had dropped the bag of food before pulling me toward him, and I soon lost my bagel, just kind of tossing it out in the hallway behind him. Now I was only hungry for one specific thing, and it wasn't food, and I was growing even hungrier by the second, as Desmond began slowly moving his hands from my waist, to my back and shoulders, then back down to my waist again, and then even a little lower, to my rear, as if his very fingers were hungry and couldn't get enough of the feel of my body.
Somewhere down the hallway, I heard the elevator door ding open, but the sound didn't really register. By this point, Desmond was plundering my mouth with his tongue while kneading my rear at the same time, making thoughts about anything other than pleasure spin right out of my head. I did, however, become presently aware of some very quiet, almost imperceptible repeated noise that for some reason made me think of a person tiptoeing.
It was just the right kind of cadence, and, combined with awareness of the elevator dinging somewhere in the back of my mind, this explanation just seemed to make sense. And when the tiptoeing sort of noise became a lot closer, mere feet away, maybe, I had to break our kiss, even though I didn't want to.
To my right, what I saw, or rather who I saw, was Ryan, clearly having crept down from the elevator bay. He'd made it as far as three or four feet away from Desmond and me, and he was now crouched down with a paper bag of food, as if he'd been intending to just leave it somewhere in the vicinity of our feet before slipping away.
Straightening up, he looked from Desmond to me, wincing.
"I was just going to leave it. I just...I just don't want to get involved again."
Without even releasing my rear with one hand, Desmond grabbed the bag with his other hand, thanking Ryan.
"Have a nice night."
Seemingly relieved beyond measure to have been dismissed, Ryan all but ran down the hallway to the elevators.
After dropping the second bag of food close to where he'd dropped the first, Desmond resumed kissing me, walking us into my apartment and shutting the door behind us. Now I was relieved beyond measure. I wanted Desmond badly, needed him, and I'd been a tiny bit afraid that Ryan's second appearance might jar Desmond out of whatever mood he was in that was making him act like he wanted and needed me, too.
Once in the foyer, Desmond scooped me up and carried me into my bedroom, kissing and caressing me along the way, just like he'd done the night we'd met. The feel of his soft, firm lips slowly making their way from my own lips to the side of my neck, lingering on every inch of skin, had me sighing deeply by the time he set me down on my bed. It was as if he was a different person, tender, loving, and passionate, than the one he'd been the entire time I'd been in Chicago.
Or maybe he was now the same as he'd been when we first met the night of the car show, and him being cold to me in Chicago was him being different. I knew there was still some mystery to solve about exactly which Desmond was the real Desmond, but at present, I didn't care about any of that. I was just thrilled that the passionate, attentive Desmond I'd first met was back.
However, once we were both completely naked, hands roaming freely and limbs entwined, I found I just had to stop for a second, and I asked Desmond to slow down.
In the dim light from the pale, early evening sun filtering in through the bedroom curtains, he frowned, gray-blue eyes glassy, and he spoke in an incredibly husky voice.
"What's wrong? What is it?"
With him half-hovering above me, eyes looking deeply into my own and his rock-hard erection pressing into the side of my hip, I fought to maintain my focus.
"Before we go any further...I just have to know...well, just say something if you really don't care about me and our baby. Just say something right now, if you truly, in your heart of hearts, don't care, and don't want to have anything to do with us. Just say it. Or, if this is just another night of fun to you, and you have no intention of still being here in the morning, just say that, too."
Still looking deeply into my eyes, he didn't say anything. Then, he began stroking my hair, hand firm but gentle, fingers picking out a few individual strands. A second ticked by, then two, then three, and he still didn't say anything. Heart swelling in my chest, I dared to hope that he really wasn't going to, that he really wasn't just taking time to choose his words carefully or something. But when he lowered his mouth to mine and began kissing me again after maybe five or six seconds, I knew he wasn't going to say anything, and my heart just about leaped out of my chest.
Now hungrier than ever to feel him inside of me and feel our bodies moving as one, I hiked a leg up on his hip, whimpering into his mouth when I felt his hardness against my most sensitive spot, which was now tingling with anticipation and need.
Gripping his muscular shoulder, I was hoping that Desmond would soon slide his considerable length into my slickness, maybe rolling me onto my back, or rolling me on top of him while he did so. However, a little to my disappointment, he soon broke our kiss and began trailing kisses down the side of my neck again, his mouth warm and teasing, spending at least a few seconds planted on each spot.
It was only when he reached my breasts, gently rolling me on my back to gain full access to them, that I started to get a clue about just what exactly his plans were. And then, my slight disappointment at the delay in our lovemaking turned into delicious-yet-agonizing anticipation. If he was really heading where I thought he was heading, something told me that the experience would be a mind-blowing one, one to rival what I'd felt having him inside of me, and I was eager for it to begin.
Desmond was intent on taking his sweet time, though, it seemed clear. Once he'd given each of my breasts very careful attention, kissing them all over and flicking his tongue across each of my stiffened nipples, making me moan, he slowly trailed his kisses lower, to my stomach. It was there that he paused after a few exquisitely slow kisses and looked up at me with his glassy eyes, which were now glinting more blue than gray.
"You're a work of art, Madison...every inch of you. Do you know that?"
I hadn't been aware, but knowing that he thought I was, sent a thrill of joy rippling through my body. Desmond, with his unbelievably handsome face, and his sculpted, muscular body, thought I was a work of art. It was going to take some time for that to fully sink in.
Sensing that his question had been rhetorical, I just smiled at him, tangling my fingers in his thick, dark hair, and he went back to what seemed like "worshiping" the "work of art" that was my body, making appreciative little groans and grunts along the way. Writhing beneath his caresses, I ground my head back on the pillows, enjoying every second of his attention, but becoming a little impatient for him to "worship" a very specific part of my anatomy, one which was now positively throbbing with need, this borderline-uncomfortable sensation joining a dull ache low in my stomach that had become similarly uncomfortable.
When Desmond finally got to my inner thighs, his breathing became increasingly fast and ragged, and the pace of his kisses increased a bit as well. It seemed that he was becoming a little anxious to get to one very specific part of my anatomy as well. And the fact that he seemed to be just as eager and anxious as I was, just ramped up my eagerness even a bit more.
However, to my great surprise, after placing a firm, lingering kiss on my feminine mound, he lifted his face, inched his body upward, to cover mine, and then rolled onto his back, pulling me on top of him.
"I want you as close to me as possible when I continue kissing you. Why don't you bring yourself up a little higher and straddle my face so I can kiss you like that."
Just the thought of being "kissed like that" was almost enough to send me
hurtling into ecstasy on the spot. However, I'd never experienced receiving very personal attention in this particular position before, and I was a little hesitant, because it was such an exceedingly intimate position, although I couldn't deny an exceedingly erotic one, as well.
When a moment or two had ticked by without me moving, Desmond gripped my hips, gently urging me to move them upward, and spoke in a husky near-whisper.
"Come on. You don't have to, of course, but let's just see if you like it. I know I'm definitely going to."
I was pretty sure I was going to like it, too.
CHAPTER 13
With Desmond gently helping to move me and lift me, I maneuvered into position, my hands braced against the headboard, my knees on either side of his head, and my sex just mere inches from his mouth. Panting, I worked to keep myself from dropping onto his mouth before he was ready, but almost right away, he let me know that he was more than ready.