On Paper

by Shae Scott

  “You want to come so badly don’t you, baby?”

  I whimpered my response. “I love the way you tremble against me, the way you beg for me to make you feel good. I want to make it feel good,” he said as he kissed my thigh. "But I need to be inside you, Quinn. I need to hear my name on your lips. I need to make you come hard around my dick. I need to fuck you. Now. Here. Hard across this desk."

  He stood and his hands found my face as he pulled me tight against him and my breath caught at the roughness of his embrace. I was so turned on I didn’t think I could take much more of his teasing. I needed him desperately. He slid his thumb into my mouth, and I sucked it, tasting the saltiness of my own desire on his skin. I bit down on the padded flesh with frustration to have him.

  He replaced his thumb with his mouth as he kissed me deep and hungrily. It was good that he was holding me up because I'd nearly lost the ability to do it on my own. When he broke the kiss he turned me so that my back was against his torso. I sunk against him as he ran his hands down along my body, his throaty growl in my ear.

  He moved his boxers over his hips and then kicked them away and I could feel him, hard and ready at my back. I ached to have him fill me. I was nothing but sensation and need. He hugged me to him, his lips warm on the side of my neck, his fingers teasing my swollen clit.

  "You consume me," he said. "Completely consume me." His hand moved, gently pushing me towards the desk. I gripped the wood frame, waiting for him to take me. I needed him to take me. I needed the feel of him stretching me. I felt the warmth of his tongue as it traced my spine, the dampness it left behind sending a shiver through me.

  I was just about to beg when he finally gave me what he'd been promising. His thrust was fast and deep and it slammed me into the desk. But he gripped me and pulled me to him, he was in control of this moment and I was happy to be at his mercy. He pushed into me, finding a steady and punishing rhythm. His fingers pressed into my hips, hard and possessive and I was sure that I’d wear the marks of him tomorrow. I could feel the build deep within me, clawing its way to the surface with exquisite precision.

  He pulled me up and to him, hugging me against his body, and when he gently tugged at my hair, pulling my head back so he could kiss my neck I felt the first explosion ricochet through my body. I would have fallen, but he wasn't done with me. His arm wrapped tighter around me as he continued to grind into me. “You’re fucking perfect. You feel so good, when you squeeze my cock, I fucking lose it, Quinn. I can’t get enough of you,” he said as he moved against me, so deep and so steady that the second orgasm was coming fast. I could barely get a breath as I panted through my cries. I called out his name, feeling as if I might split in two as the wave of ecstasy rolled over me. This time he fell with me and I felt him jerk within me. I couldn’t hold on anymore, my legs were worthless.

  Keaton slowly loosened his grip and we drifted down towards the floor. Luckily the room was outfitted with a fancy area rug. It was soft enough that I was contemplating staying here for the rest of the night. I rolled to my back trying to catch my breath. He followed covering me, his slick skin against my own. He kissed my shoulder, my throat and I hummed with contentment.

  "Are you okay?” he asked. His words were raspy as he still fought to even out his breathing.

  “I’m perfect,” I said. I could seriously sleep in an instant.

  “I’ll say,” he smiled kissing my shoulder. “I'd say that I'm sorry for attacking you, but we both know I’d be lying."

  I laughed "Remind me to interrupt your writing more often," I smiled. He propped his head on his hand and stared down at me, pushing back the hair from my face.

  "You do make quite the muse," he smiled.

  "Lucky me for falling for the man with the imagination."

  "Oh I have plenty of imagination. We'll just have to see if you can keep up," he teased. It broke the intensity that we had just shared and brought us back to earth.

  Staring up into his beautiful face I felt like the luckiest person around. This man owned me. Every part of me belonged to him and I wasn’t even sure if he knew it. It didn’t matter. I knew it. I felt the difference. Somewhere along the way I’d stopped trying to figure it out and I’d just let myself be happy. I didn’t have to think about it.

  “What are you thinking about?” he asked, placing soft kisses across my body. I stared up at the ceiling and smiled. I wasn’t about to tell him the truth.

  “I was thinking how I just got a firsthand answer to Lily’s question…you do get turned on writing sexy scenes.” I started to laugh as he groaned and rolled away from me. I was still laughing when he got to his feet and offered me a hand to pull me to my feet.

  “You suck,” he smiled as he pulled me close to him and kissed my nose.

  I smiled up at him, his blue eyes dancing with mischief. “I was also thinking that you make me really happy,” I confessed.

  “Yeah?” he asked.

  I nodded.

  He brushed the hair from my face and took in a slow breath, “Me too, baby.”

  HAVE YOU EVER seen that movie, When Harry Met Sally? There is this line at the end that always gets me. "When you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible." I totally understood where Harry was coming from. While I wasn't exactly ready to run down the aisle with Keaton, I did know that I wanted to be with him. I wanted to be in New York.

  We talked a lot about what that new normal was going to look like. Everyday dinners, walks around the park, and taking each other for granted. Meaning we would have time, time to waste and enjoy without the watching a clock.

  Distance was hard. If I didn't have a plan to end the torture I'd never make it. But I did have a plan. Any day now my phone would ring and I'd have a job and a new start.

  Keaton thought I should just make the move now. He said it would make interviewing easier and I could get settled in the city. What he meant was I could settle in with him.

  But I didn't want to do that. My move to New York, while made completely better by the fact that my hot-as-hell boyfriend lived there, wasn't about him. It was about me. It was about my career and my future and I needed it to be independent of everything else.

  He didn't understand my decision. He was impatient. I got it. I was impatient too.

  I was falling hard for him. Or more accurately, I'd fallen hard for him. There was no question about it, the fall had been swift and hard and I was completely in.

  I was in love with Keaton. I was sure of it. I was so sure of it that I had to fight to not let the words spill out of my mouth. Cause they wanted to. They threatened to bubble up and tumble out at any given moment.

  But I knew I was on delicate ground. I didn’t doubt his feelings for me, not for an instant, but I did doubt his readiness to accept them with universally accepted phrases like I love you and forever. He may make a living selling dreams like that, but they didn’t come so easy to him in real life.

  He’d only mentioned it the one time, back in California on our first date, but it had stuck with me. I’m not even sure if he would remember telling me. But I’d filed it away and had been very mindful of it ever since. It didn’t scare me to know that he didn’t believe in fairytale endings. Not really. It simply reminded me of where we’d started. Back then, in the safety of our temporary arrangement it hadn’t mattered that he didn’t believe in love. After all, I didn’t believe in being spontaneous. We had both been trying it on.

  Now, months later, spontaneity wasn’t so scary to me, so I had to believe that someday maybe love wouldn’t be so scary for him. Maybe it was a long shot. It didn’t matter. Because I was happy. I was in love with him and for now that was enough for me.

  I walked through apartment, shedding my sweater and kicking off my boots. “Make yourself at home, sweetheart,” Keaton laughed as he set my bag down.

  “Don’t mind if I do,” I teased as I sauntered into the kitchen to find a glass of wa
ter. I made sure to put an extra sway in my hips because I knew he was watching me. It felt so good to be back here with him. It had been two weeks since I’d seen him, but these days the time apart seemed to last forever. I grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and took a long sip, my eyes focused on Keaton as he moved across the room to join me. Man, I’d missed him. Just having him in the same space put me at ease. It made my whole world feel easier.

  “I got you flowers. Did you see?” he asked, his head nodding to the massive bouquet of white daisies sitting on the counter. They were beautiful. I quirked an eyebrow up at him as he leaned across the kitchen island towards me.

  “Daisies? You sure those aren’t for your other girlfriend? Pretty sure I like tulips,” I teased leaning across the counter to meet him halfway.

  He smiled, “I know. And I thought about getting you tulips. Then I remembered someone telling me how they only last a week; seems like a shame for something so beautiful to be gone so quickly. Now a daisy, it’s got some fight in it. I hear these suckers can last for ages if you take care of them. I think we’re more daisy, less tulip,” he said.

  I stared at him, my mouth hanging open, a lump caught in my throat.

  “What do you think?” he asked his smile easy.

  “I think I have a new favorite flower,” I said.

  “Come over here. I missed you,” he said. I rounded the island and went into his arms. It felt good to be wrapped up in his strong embrace, completely surrounded by him.

  “You want to go to dinner?” he asked, his hands moving down my back to rest at my hips.

  “Not really,” I said. I didn’t want to leave the apartment. I was far too selfish to share him with anyone else. I ran my hands under the thermal he was wearing, feeling instant heat pulsing within me as I felt the warm hard lines of his body. Keaton followed my lead, his hands sliding beneath my shirt and across my stomach and up to my breasts. His thumb teased me through the lace of my bra, bringing a sigh to my lips. I barely noticed as he began to walk me backwards towards the living room, covering my throat with kisses that left me feeling hot and weak.

  “We could watch a movie,” he suggested as he slid the shirt I was wearing up and over my head.

  I grabbed his face and kissed him, “Nah.” I felt his smile against my kiss and he lifted me up and carried me towards the chaise lounge in the living room. He set me on my feet as I helped him remove his shirt and placed soft kisses across his chest.

  “You seem to be awfully hard to please today,” he teased, his fingers loosening the belt at my waist. I helped him out by pushing my jeans down my legs and stepping out of them.

  “Not at all, I’ll tell you exactly what I want.” I said, holding his gaze. He gave me a cocky smirk and ran his hand across his growing erection.

  “Tell me, baby,” he said, the confident, arrogant rasp of his voice sending need all the way down to my toes. I nodded to the lounger and he settled in, his dick straining against his boxer briefs. I followed, settling over him, rocking against his hardness. “Now what?” he asked, enjoying this game.

  I leaned in, my lips close to his ear, my voice soft, “I want to make out.” He laughed and pulled back to look at me.

  “You want to make out?” he asked.

  “I want you to kiss me,” I said.

  “How about I kiss you while my dick is buried deep inside you,” he said pushing up and into my center. My panties were soaked, my body ready for him.

  I couldn’t help but smile as I took his face into my hands. “Kiss me,” I said softly. He didn’t make me ask again. His lips covered mine and while I expected him to hit me with a passionate, hungry kiss, he pulled me to him instead with a soul crushing, slow and sensual kiss that I felt deep down in my bones. His lips moved across mine, his tongue in a seductive dance with my own. I sighed as his teeth nipped at my lip and then moved to my jaw and my neck. His arms encircled my back and held me so close to his chest that I swear I could feel the beat of his heart through his skin. It overtook me and this one kiss left me so completely overwhelmed with emotion that I could barely find thought. I touched his face and ground my hips against his in an effort to be closer. It’s as if I wanted to find a way to simply crawl inside of him.

  My breath was heavy as his mouth covered mine again. My lips were already swollen, but I felt like I couldn’t get enough of him. “You set me on fire,” he breathed against me. “I’ll never get enough of this; I’ll never have my fill of you.” His voice was labored and I could tell he was feeling the same restraint that I was, emotional and physical. I rested my forehead against his as we both tried to slow our racing hearts. I had been teasing him, wanting to make out, but shit, those kisses, they had rocked me. My whole body was shaking, like a dam, holding in a flood of emotions that had been stirred up by a storm. A hurricane I was in no shape to fight off.

  "I love you," I said softly. The words fell out of my mouth before I knew they were there. The sound of them hit my ears and I felt instant panic and relief. I forced myself to find his eyes, needing to see his reaction first hand. I'd been carrying these words with me for so long that it felt good to set them free. But it felt dangerous, too, to say them out loud.

  "Quinn," he started, his voice catching. I felt his breath stutter, his chest stilling beneath the hand that I had pressed against his heart. Shit. All I could do now was own it.

  "I do," I continued. "I just do," My heart was beating so fast. At any moment I might collapse. I couldn't read his face; the storm behind his eyes seemed to flash a hundred different emotions at once. His head began to turn, side to side. I braced for the no, the rejection, holding on to the hope that he was just letting the words sink in.

  Sitting here straddled across his lap, barely clothed I felt vulnerable, stripped bare in every sense of the word. I listened to his ragged breath and found that it matched my own. His hands moved up my arms until he cradled my face. Need darkened his eyes and his grip on my face became demanding as he pulled me to him. His mouth slammed against mine, his tongue taking ownership, I was pinned to him, not that I would have gone anywhere in this moment. I thrilled at the way his fingers gripped me, the way he took my breath for his own.

  His hands moved along my body as his hips moved beneath me, searching me out. His fingers dug into my skin, pulling, needing, commanding me to surrender to him. I had no reservations. I loved the control he took. There was something about the way he pulled at me, like he couldn't get close enough to me to make me feel what he was feeling.

  A moan fell from my lips as he kissed up and down my throat, licking across my collarbone. I sighed his name, grinding against him and wanting him to fill me. I was more than willing to go on any journey he offered,

  He pulled at the straps of my bra, unconcerned for the fabric, focused on getting exactly what he wanted. He pulled down the lace cup and covered my waiting breast with his mouth. The heat left goose bumps along my body. I rubbed against the hardness beneath me, hungry for the friction that would help settle the ache between my thighs.

  "You're beautiful. I don't deserve you," he moaned between kisses.

  "I am yours, completely," I sighed.

  We were frantic hands and mouths, both searching the other for answers we needed, communicating our hearts without words.

  I don't even know how he managed to free us from our clothing, but when he slid into me, I grasped onto him, my nails digging into his skin, the emotion in me too much to hold back. He held me, gripped me, and ravaged me with a raw need that left me quivering around him.

  His words against my ear were sweet as they tumbled from him without any reason or thought. In this moment it didn't matter if he didn't say the words back, because I felt them. I felt them in this connection between us. Keaton had words. He knew exactly how to use them, to sculpt them into something beyond what they were on their own. I didn't need the words. I needed the feeling behind them and that was exactly what I had. I believed it, even if he wasn't quite ready to beli
eve it himself.

  I’VE ALWAYS KNOWN what love looks like. I’ve never doubted its existence. My parents have the kind of love that people spend their lives searching for. It is the kind that people envy, the kind of relationship that people see from afar and say, “They are the lucky ones.” But even as a kid I knew better than to think that it had anything to do with luck.

  I used to watch them from the barstool in the kitchen, listen when they thought I wasn’t paying attention, and I took it all in. Theirs was the first story I ever tried to uncover. And what I learned in all of those years of watching my parents was that love is about hard work. It’s about sacrifice and tough decisions. It’s give and take…and it’s mostly give.

  You don’t get handed the fairytale. You work for it. Every single day you put in the time. You commit and sometimes that means giving up something you really wanted. Like the day I heard my dad turn down his dream job because he didn’t want to uproot his family and move us across the country. I listened to him tell my mother that we were his priority and that we were enough.