by Alexis Angel
Sitting on the AirTrain, I have all of those ridiculous panicky symptoms—I’m nauseous, I feel my heart pounding at an unhealthy rate, and my mouth is bone-dry. I still want to read the message again, but instead I close my eyes so I don’t have to look at the ugly inside of the train car or the gray day outside.
When I’m at the curb and the taxi driver is loading my bags into the trunk, I take another deep breath and feel a little calmer. I use this as an excuse to read the message again and try to make sense of it.
Reading it again doesn’t help. The text message from Lana refers to a letter—not an email, not even a phone call, but an actual paper letter with a fucking envelope and postage—sent from Rainforest.com.
Getting a letter out of the blue from Rainforest isn’t good, and just the casual start of the text—“You got a letter from Rainforest” — is dreadful enough on its own. Not even a greeting.
Lana must be as worried as I am.
I scan through the entire message twice before getting into the back of the Suburban. I try to zone out during the ride, saving my energy for when I actually need to deal with this shit.
It starts raining lightly as we go up the freeway, and certain words and phrases keep popping into my head: “suspicious activity,” “reviewing the account,” “potential action.”
I don’t need this on its own, and I certainly don’t fucking need it on top of everything else. I’m not prepared to deal with it right now, but right now may be the only option I have. Lana convinced me I need to cut my trip short to address this immediately.
The sun’s coming out by the time we’re rolling through the city. Almost instantly, it’s a beautiful afternoon, with the sunlight dancing off the skyline. I try not to think about the letter—or WineBar.
We drive the last few blocks to my building. The sidewalks are crowded with people who all look so happy, basking in the weather like they’ve never seen the fucking sun before.
I notice couples—there seem to be so fucking many of them—looking content, fulfilled. It looks like it must be so easy for all of them, like they’ve never had to go through any struggles or challenges, like it all just clicked.
The taxi slows down gradually on my street, and my heart starts pounding again. That fucking text message, the letter...what does it mean? Why didn’t Lana send a photo of it instead of those few vague, terrifying words?
The driver tells me the fare. I hand him my credit card.
Is that what it’s like when you finally find the right person? It just clicks, with no challenges at all? The thought shoots through my mind as he hands me the receipt.
I listen to the Suburban drive off behind me as I look at the entrance to my building. At this very instant, I don’t even have it in me to walk inside.
I take a minute to look at the front entrance. Whatever’s on the other side, whatever’s in that letter from Rainforest, I need to face it eventually. So I guess I just have to say, “Fuck it. Here we go.”
I can’t see inside the building at all. There’s too much glare from the sun. I know that it will be the same lobby, hallways, and apartment for the millionth time.
I’m not looking forward to any of it.
I finally step inside, and at first the lobby looks empty. That’s expected at this time of day. Sunshine is also pouring in as I walk through the door, making it hard to see what’s in front of me.
I do see a figure, though. Just a shadow. Who the hell...wait...what?
The door closes, and the first thing I see is the flower. Just a single rose, and whoever’s holding it is bringing toward me.
“Em...”
That voice…and that face. I now see him so clearly.
It’s the only sight that could possibly bring me out of the funk I’ve been in the past few weeks. In Cancun, in New York. Pretty much every fucking minute since I woke up the day after the barbecue.
It’s Kirk. It’s WineBar.
He’s looking kinda bored out of his mind, as if he’s been here for hours.
But he sees me.
He’s coming toward me, holding that single rose.
Tears fill my eyes, and the doorman’s just looking at the two of us.
But I don’t fucking care because WineBar’s right there in front of me now.
“Emily, if it’s a choice between every other girl and you, I realized—it’s you,” he says.
I can’t speak. I’m frozen to the spot, my eyes locked on his as he looks at me in a way I thought I’d never see again.
“If it’s a choice between Miami or New York or any other fucking place in the whole fucking world and you—it’s still fucking you,” he says again.
I might be making some sort of noise, I’m not sure, but right now I don’t fucking care.
“And, Em...”
“Guh.” I can’t even form any words, and I know I’m a hot mess with tears spilling down my cheeks.
WineBar doesn’t even flinch. His eyes stay focused and serious. He leans closer, and now he’s just a few inches away.
I can feel his warmth. I can smell his wondrous scent.
I stare into Kirk’s eyes which are directed at mine, radiating warmth, both passion and tenderness and wild, raging desire and soulful intensity. He’s reflecting all of those indescribable things I feel, those things that I know now, we both feel.
“And, Emily...”
“Bluh.”
“It will always be you. Every fucking time. You, Em. It is you. It’s no one but you.”
I feel the warmth increase as Kirk moves in closer and wraps me in his arms as and brings me closer still, until our lips meet in a long overdue kiss.
I don’t know how long we’re there in the lobby, kissing like it’s the very air we need to breathe, but eventually we go upstairs.
I think…for the first day of the rest of our lives.
Chapter 65
Emily
“I love you, Em.”
I just smile like a lovestruck teenager. The whole way up to my apartment, WineBar keeps telling me this. Like he wants to make sure I know.
And after all the crazy miscommunication that’s kept us apart, I can’t say I blame him.
Kirk loves me. I love him.
The only thing more perfect than that is how we’re now losing each other in this kiss as we fumble our way into my apartment, and he kicks the door shut behind him.
I whimper when his lips are away from mine for a second. It like, damages my soul to not have him pressed against me. After all this time apart, I don’t want a fraction of an inch of space between us.
I back him against the wall, press my lips to his, and stroke my hands up and down his body. I cup his face and bring my hands back down and place them over his rock-hard cock.
Kirk’s hands never leave my hair, tangled up in holding me tight to him. There’s an aching urgency between us that seems to be an invisible thread holding us together. One we can’t allow to break.
Placing his hands on my shoulders, he pulls the straps of my dress down, and the fabric droops over my breasts. I feel my nipples hardening against the cups of my bra, aching for release. Reading my mind, Kirk allows his fingers to slide to my back and, with a simple flick, unclasps my bra.
My clothing just falls away, and I step out of it and reach for Kirk.
My fingers work fast, undoing the knot on his tie and unbuttoning his shirt. I flatten the open palm of my hands against the hard outline of his pecs, my fingers trailing down to feel the grooves between his rock-hard abs, and I feel my pussy turning into a wet mess.
My thong is sticking to my skin uncomfortably, and I ache to be completely naked and at his mercy.
He feels the same.
Spinning me around with one quick maneuver, he pushes me back against the wall now, hooking his fingers on the string of thong that laces my outer thigh and yanks. There’s a ripping sound, and then the thong just slides off my body, my insides clenching as it happens.
I fucking love
it when he does that, even if he did just ruin yet another of my fave La Perlas. But I can deal with that because it just makes me so wet.
“Fucking beautiful,” he growls, his eyes roaming over my naked body. I grin at him and, biting on my lower lip, reach for his belt and unbuckle it. I feel his cock straining against his pants, and I can’t wait to set it free.
I pull his zipper down with trembling fingers, his cock tenting up his boxer briefs. And then I just move as fast as I can. God, I’ve missed this man.
His cock springs free at once, pulsing with the kind of raw intensity WineBar always has, and there are a few drops of pre-cum glistening on its tip. I just want to lap it right up.
“You’re mine,” he whispers as he kicks off his shoes and then steps out of his pants and boxers.
He’s moving so fast that he becomes a blur. He presses his naked body against mine and kisses me.
His mouth on mine is more home than anything I’ve ever known. The taste of his breath, the hum of his moans mingling with mine, him still cradling my head as I’m practically climbing him against this wall.
There’s an urgency that we have every time we touch. And if I’m being honest, I don’t think that urgency is ever going to die. Not after everything we’ve just been through.
I’ll never get enough of him.
The hands gripping my hair trail down my spine and grasp my ass with both hands, lifting me up so that my pussy is lined up with his cock. Kirk is harder than perhaps I’ve ever felt him. And that’s really fucking saying something with the massive cock he has!
I’m grinding my pussy against it, running it up and down my folds, and I’m getting just so damned hungry for it. That’s like the only way to describe it.
We’re in love—OMG, we’re in love!—and I’m totally in love with that cock of his. I know exactly what it is going to feel like when I glide down on its full length.
Which needs to happen like right the fuck now.
I line my entrance up to his cock now, pretty much grinding against him and shivering with my need.
Kirk is holding me but doesn’t impale me with the same force that he normally would. In fact, he’s still letting me be in charge...and I’m happy to be able to ride him as long as I can be on that massive cock. His hands are gripping me so tight, but I’m in the driver’s seat.
For now, at least. It’s only a matter of time before my WineBar needs to be the one in charge. That’s fine.
I fucking love that too.
Pulling back from our kiss, and with my lips bruised from how hard we’re kissing, I take in the gorgeous sight of his perfectly chiseled face. His eyes are so full of emotion that something breaks in my chest—something that I didn’t know was there.
I’ve never been so happy in my life as I am to see him look at me with love. Adoration, and love. I feel the same.
I’m probably going to drool if I look at his perfect face any longer. I mean, I’ve never seen anyone as painfully handsome as him. The kind of pain that makes your pussy throb...yeah, back to that.
I slide down on his cock, biting on my lower lip but keeping my eyes locked with his. I can’t help but suck in a breath when his cock’s enormous head is inside my pussy. Kirk feels so good inside me.
He watches me with that intensity he sometimes gets, and I pretty much melt. Looking at his face could be enough to make me cum. Seriously.
I can’t help but shiver just watching him, watching me. I feel my pussy stretching, filling up with him. Slowly—torturously, teasingly slow—I lower my body onto his cock.
I see the power struggle in his eyes. Kirk has slammed so deep into me so many times, and I know muscle memory alone wants to take over—that dominant, possessive streak that runs deep.
But right now, he’s along for my ride. He’s letting me do this, letting me take this where I want it to go.
Of course, going slow is a delicious agony for me too. I need to feel his cock so deep inside me I can’t breathe. I’m inhaling and exhaling slowly as it is.
I focus and take deep breaths because the sensation of his cock filling me up is so much more intense when I do. The erotic pressure building in my stomach burns hot in my blood, my nerve endings tingling through my body.
My legs shake—and he’s not even all the way in me yet. I need him so damn bad to make up for all this lost time, but I’m still forcing myself to go so slow.
I feel my pussy drip down his cock beneath me where I haven’t fully swallowed him up yet.
Kirk moans a primal, needy sound. His fingers grip my ass harder, but he uses what I imagine is all the willpower he can muster to not slam me all the way down on his cock.
“Are you trying to kill me?” he asks in a breathier voice than he normally has, the tone huskier than normal too.
“I just want to make this moment last,” I say before I think about my words. “I want it burned into my memory forever.”
That’s the truth though. I’m taking a snapshot in time of him telling me he loves me, me telling him the same, and then consummating our love in a way that’s so different from all the other times we fucked.
Yeah, I’m that girl right now. I’m so fine with being that girl right now.
I’m the girl that’s making love, being fucking sweet and sassy and all that jazz instead of just fucking like the filthy animals we are.
Don’t get me wrong, I fully intend to bring the filth.
But right now, I’m savoring every sweet second. I sway my head to the side to kiss his neck. I lick his collarbone just as I’m slowly taking those last delicious inches of him. His cock jerks inside me, a sharp reaction to the need I’ve created in him.
My body is filling up with him, and there are practically stars behind my eyes, tasting him and taking him like this.
I roll my hips in an exaggerated, intense motion. The angle of his cock in my pussy is breathtakingly good, hitting me in all the right places. My inner walls are grasping him for dear life.
I need to be able to hold him tight like this all over. My lips press a kiss into his skin. I want to kiss him every day for the rest of my life.
The warmth of his skin around mine, the sound of his breathing, the feel of his heart. I lay my head against his chest, and I sigh with the kind of contentedness that only love brings. I’m in absolute bliss right now.
Kirk’s fingers press into me, but still he doesn’t take over. He lets me ride him and holds me tight to him all at once. He kisses the top of my head where I’m snuggled against him.
I feel so safe in his arms. My body is supercharged with lust, and it’s burning slowly and deliciously through us both, leaving us in calm cinders and ash as the angles and continuing thrusts bring us both closer to cumming.
Like, yeah, we’re fucking slowly, but you have to know that I’m still working that cock with everything I have, babe. You know when you’re fucking your man, you’re owning that dick and making it yours?
Yep, that’s what I’m doing, wrapping my pussy around him and making us both want to cry because it feels so fucking good. The orgasm that builds with that is like lapping waves coming in with the tide. Each lap of the waves against our skin, the pleasure ever building, gets a fraction more intense until everything collides and crashes with us both.
My nipples pressing against his chest are becoming too much. Every time I roll my hips and close down on his cock more, my lips start to quiver a little bit more. I lift my head up, and my eyes blaze at his; I feel the fire radiating from me.
I’m ready now.
“Fuck me hard,” I say. It isn’t a request, it isn’t a demand; it’s a promise that when he fucks me hard like he does so damn well, I’m going to cum so hard it’s going to shatter me.
Kirk carries me off to the bed and lays me down on it, pulling my legs up and apart. He spreads me wide, and now it’s his turn to roll his hips. His delicious strokes drive his cock so deep inside me that I cry out in ecstasy.
Every single thrust is more i
ntense than the last. Faster, harder, deeper.
I think the top of my head may fly off. I feel how wet my pussy is, dripping with desire for his every move. My eyes trail down to watch the cock sliding in and out of me.
Fuck, I still catch my breath to see just how large it is, and it’s inside me! That’s the kind of shock I’ll happily welcome every damn day because, oh my god does it feel eye-rollingly, panty-droppingly perfect.
I reach out and grip the sheets, the pleasure almost too much to bear because I’m shaking thunderously. Tremors of pleasure overtake me, and my eyes roll back in their orbits. A low, throaty moan that turns into a full-blown scream tears from my lips.
It feels like a waterfall—that’s how much I’m gushing, drenching WineBar’s cock with my juices as I clamp down so hard he has to work to keep the powerful contractions from pushing him right the fuck out.
Kirk is slamming damn hard into me, capturing one of my nipples in his mouth and letting me know that cock is not getting shoved out just yet. He jackhammers in harder, swirling his tongue around my nipple. My back arches up higher while I grip the table for dear life, and that just brings my breast more into his mouth.
That makes me tremble more, until I’m practically convulsing on the bed. I hear a smug laugh on my breast, my nipple tickling with a small hum of sound on my skin.
Of course, Kirk’s taking great satisfaction in me falling apart like this. I mean, I rode him as long as I could, but what I really need is what only he can do to me. And he knows it.
Hard, relentless fucking that shows me just how much he wants me. In case you weren’t paying attention, that’s a whole hell of a lot.
He’s still pumping into me just as hard, and I feel his cock turning to steel encased in velvet, claiming every inch of me and ready to burst. I can’t fucking wait for him to fill me up with a bucketload of cum.
“Are you gonna fill up my mouth or my pussy, Daddy?” I ask in my most innocent voice. I feel his cock twitch inside me.