The Promise

by River Laurent

  Lars places a bandage with two different ointments over my less severe knee and sprays another antiseptic on the more damaged one. This one doesn’t hurt nearly as bad. Instead, it cools the pain temporarily. I watch as he works nimbly at retrieving a much larger bandage and gauze tape. He puts a few ointments on the bandage and carefully covers my knee with it. Once it’s covered, he wraps the gauze tape around the bandage to hold it in place.

  “Thank you,” I whisper. He nods his head and continues looking at the floor. I notice a small cut on his eyebrow where he got punched. I grab a small antiseptic wipe from the counter and dab it over his brow gently.

  He jerks back and I scowl sternly. “Hold still.”

  I gently tend to the cut and place a small amount of Neosporin on it. Lars continues staring at me, but I ignore him and finish by sticking a Band-Aid on it. He leans his head into my hand and his hair falls over my fingertips. The urge to grasp it in my fingers…

  I pause, trying to gain the control I need to finish the task at hand, but we both know that my control is gone.

  “I’m such a fucking pervert,” he whispers against my palm.

  “Why do you say that?” I ask curiously.

  “Because I’m horny as hell even after I’ve seen you look like you’ve been attacked by a fucking shark.”

  I giggle. “I scraped my knee, Lars.”

  “It looked far worse. I hated seeing you get hurt. I wanted to fucking kill him.”

  I bite my bottom lip. “About the sex tape-”

  His finger lands against my mouth and he shakes his head. There is some great hurt in his eyes. “I don’t want to know, Tamara. I can’t take it. Not now. Not tonight.”

  I nod. “Okay.”

  My heart is beating so fast I hear it booming in my ears. I know what I want. Even if it is just one night. I want it. I’ll keep it in my heart for when I’m old. For when I am sitting in a rocking chair. That one night when I went to bed with the most beautiful man who ever walked God’s earth.

  Lars stands to his full height and lifts me from the sink. I wrap my arms around his neck and my legs around his midsection as tightly as possible and meet his lips. He walks me backward and out of the bathroom into his bedroom.

  His lips drown all reasonable doubt.

  Lars carries me to his bed and lays me gently beneath him. “I can’t wait any longer. I need to have you,” he groans, pulling his shirt over his head and leaving nothing to my imagination.

  I pull his bare chest into mine and say something that I know he won’t be able to resist. “I’ve needed you on top of me for weeks.”

  With an animalistic sound originating from the back of his throat, Lars grabs the hem of my tank top and pulls it over my head. The flannel top falls over my arms and leaves me in nothing but a bra.

  I groan at the pure bliss I’m feeling and my small sound seems to excite him even more. He arches his back and presses himself into me, which causes a louder, more frenzied noise to escape my lips. I wrap my arms around the back of his neck and pull at the tips of his hair while simultaneously pressing his head more tightly into mine. I can’t get close enough to him and closeness is what I need.

  Chapter 40

  Lars

  I kiss her lips again, unable to resist the fullness of them. “You feel so damned good.”

  I slip my fingertip underneath the lace of her bra. The nipple hiding under there is hard and full. I touch it gently and she arches into my hand, looking for more.

  I unbutton her little shorts and pull the zipper down slowly, teasing us both with the reveal. Sure enough, the panties match. My sister once said if a man undresses a woman and finds that her bra matches her panties, he’s played right into that woman’s hands. Fuck, I never wanted to play into a woman’s hands more.

  I lick along the top of the panties, right where they meet her skin. She gasps and clenches my hair with her hands. I pull her shorts down more and she wiggles her hips until they are down to her thighs. Carefully, I slide them lower without letting the material touch her knees. When I finally get them off, she lifts those long, smooth legs and teasingly, provocatively, spreads them wide.

  Hell! She’s showing me the sweet, wet heat at the center of her.

  I stare like a man transfixed at the wet patch as she lifts her hips until her sex is inches away from my nose. The heady scent of her arousal fills my nostrils.

  Like a wolf scenting the air, I inhale in quick bursts.

  She pulls back and my nose moves forward, following the intoxicating trail of her scent. Her hands skim lightly over her ribs and linger over the tops of her satiny breasts. She cups her breasts. I stare at her utterly riveted. Keeping her legs straight, she opens her thighs so her long, long legs make a fabulous V. The position is obscene and bewitching.

  She is good enough to eat.

  She holds the pose while I kiss and lick my way up her spread thighs. The crotch of her panties is completely soaked and I can see the puffy lips through the transparent material. I push my hand against it and the moan that comes from her almost makes me come in my pants.

  I pull the material to one side–I need to see all of her–and look at her pussy. Fuck me. I can’t take my eyes of it. So goddamn pink and sweet. God only knows how many pussies I have seen in my lifetime, but hers takes my breath away. I stare at the pink glistening whorls of wet flesh. In that position, the hole gapes, as if begging to be filled, taken, fucked. Enticingly thick nectar drips out of it.

  Like an uncivilized heathen, I stick my watering mouth right where it was dripping.

  She groans at the first stroke of my tongue along her swollen folds. Her pretty little pussy is as soft as the petals of a flower and as sweet as nectar. My tongue delves deeper as I eat her out greedily. I can’t get enough.

  My hungry slurping draws even louder moans from her as I hit on the spots she loves the most. She pushes her fingers through my hair and arches her hips up to me, giving me more access.

  I begin drawing designs all over her with my tongue. When I hit a spot that makes her shiver and go tense with pleasure, I hold her tighter to my mouth and keep at it, rubbing, licking, sucking, worshiping until I find a rhythm that makes her moan with ecstasy and her body squirm.

  “Don’t you dare stop,” she begs, driven purely by pleasure.

  I suck the engorged button hard. It takes less than a minute before her body becomes a hard bow. She pushes her clit even deeper into my mouth. She lets out a long wail that bounces off the walls as she collapses underneath me. Limp and completely sated, she lies panting…but not for long. Sticky-sweet honey is all around my mouth and I lick it clean.

  “You’ve got a sweet little pussy,” I tell her, and lick her all over again. Her poor clit throbs under my tongue.

  When she comes clawing and grasping at the sheets, I lie down beside her and rub my palm on her nipple, over the lace of her bra. It’s as hard as a little stone. It doesn’t take long for her to catch her breath and rise on her elbows.

  She grins at me. “Now it’s your turn.”

  Her searching hands find the button of my jeans and slide the zip down. She fumbles a bit so I help her push my pants off. As soon as they get to my ankles, I kick them away.

  Now there’s nothing between us but a pair of boxers. I lift my hips and she hooks her fingers into the waistband and pulls the thin material down. My dick jumps to full attention.

  “You’re so huge,” she gasps in wonder.

  I look down and my dick is pulsing so crazily to get inside her silky warmth it actually hurts. “That’s right, and you’re going to take every inch of me inside your tight pussy, baby.”

  She slides her hands up my thighs and my cock jerks at her touch. One hand curls around my upright dick. I groan at the sudden thrill of her small hand fisting my cock. Her fingers are cool and sure as she slowly slides them along the shaft and over the pulsing veins as she feels every inch of me. It is as though she’s memorizing me, testing the texture of my sk
in, exploring me.

  “Your skin is like silk,” she murmurs.

  Leaning forward, she wraps her red mouth around my cock and starts sucking it in. I want to say something, but I lost the power of speech. I dig my hands into her hair as she takes my cock deeper and deeper into her throat.

  “I won’t be able to last long,” I warn.

  She looks up at me with wide open eyes and bobs her head up and down my shaft.

  “Spread your legs, Tamara. I want to see what’s mine.”

  Obediently, she readjusts her body and allows me to see her wet, open pussy. I stare at her flesh and lick my lips thinking of how sweet she tasted earlier. Suddenly, I can hold it no longer. I try to pull my cock out of her mouth, but she clamps her hands around my hips and starts making a swallowing motion.

  I explode in her mouth while she moans and milks every last drop from me.

  Chapter 41

  Cass

  I am tempted awake by the delicious smell of bacon. With my eyes still closed, I roll over in bed lazily. Mmm…Emma Jean is making breakfast. I should get up. Wait, I shouldn’t be able to smell bacon from my room. My eyes snap open.

  I’m naked and alone in Lars’ bed.

  My immediate and first thought is he’s done a runner because he regrets sleeping with me. But that insecure thought doesn’t last. The way Lars worshiped my body last night is not what people do to their one night stands. A secretive smile curves my lips to think of all the things he did to my body. I’ve never met anyone who did the things he does, or who made me climax so hard. I guess he must be very experienced.

  We did it so many times I’m sore this morning.

  I stretch deeply, and it makes both my knees and wrist ache. I examine my wrist gingerly. It hurts, but it’s bearable. I sit up and look around the dim room. Last night, I had no eyes for anything but him, but today, I’m curious. It’s surprisingly bare. A couple of watercolor paintings of horses, a wardrobe, a dresser, and a daybed with some olive-green pillows. It’s almost as if he lives here, but it’s not really his home.

  The sheets reek of sex so I quickly strip them off the bed and bundle them up. Picking up the flannel shirt I wore last night off the floor, I slip it over my head. As I pass the mirror on the dresser, I glance at it. Yup, I look like a dirty stop over, but I can’t stop grinning at my reflection. Nothing can be done about my swollen mouth, but I run my hands through my hair to put it to some kind of order before I turn away.

  Still wondering where Lars is, I quickly gather the rest of my clothing, add them to the sheets, and carry the wad out of the room. Pausing at the top of the stairs, I listen. Everything seems still until I hear clattering sounds coming from the kitchen.

  I briefly think about exiting through the front door and accessing my living quarters through my patio, but I don’t like the idea of sneaking about like a thief, and I certainly don’t want to tell an unnecessary lie to Emma Jean. She’s been good to me and I respect her.

  Clutching the dirty laundry against my body like a shield, I go down the stairs and head toward the kitchen for my walk of shame. The door is not closed, and I can hear Emma Jean moving around. For all I know, she has probably already heard about the sex tape and the ensuing fight. It’ll be embarrassing, but I’ll just have to brazen it out.

  Cautiously, I put my head around the kitchen door, expecting to see Emma Jean’s cheerful face. But what I see is a stripped to the waist, totally edible Lars presiding over a big mess. There are pots and pans on the fire and in the sink. The table is littered with broken egg shells, cans of beans, bread, a bowl of pancake batter, packets of open bacon, and sausages. For a second, I stare at him blankly.

  “You okay?” he asks, cocking an eyebrow.

  I nod, still too bewildered by the sight of him cooking to form actual words.

  “Well, I’m most definitely not,” he says.

  I frown. Is this where it’s supposed to get awkward? I can act cool about last night if that’s what’s needed. Straightening my spine, I step into the kitchen. “Why aren’t you okay?”

  He places his hands on his lean hips. “Here I am busting my gut trying to make and serve breakfast in bed to the most beautiful, naked woman God ever created, and she’s ruined it all by stripping the bed and getting back into clothes.”

  I grin with relief. “The sheets reeked of sex.”

  “What’s wrong with that?” he asks, genuinely surprised.

  I laugh at his expression. “I think your beans are burning.”

  He turns around, grabs the pan off the fire, and to my surprise, deftly and with the great flourish of a top-Chef, pours them into two plates that are already loaded with food parked on the warmer.

  “Voila! Now, tell me that wouldn’t make an award-winning photo,” he boasts proudly.

  That reminds me of Tamara’s order to send a picture of him this morning. I force a smile to my lips. “You’re absolutely right. It is photo worthy. I want to take a picture of it.”

  He looks at me strangely. “You do?”

  “Yeah, the first breakfast you ever made for me.” I lift a shoulder. “It can go into the Lars and I album.”

  His eyes twinkle. “You’re going to make a Lars and I album?”

  I nod guiltily. It never even crossed my mind to make one. “Give me a minute to get my phone. It’s in my room,” I call as I flee from the kitchen. I drop the bundle of clothes into the wash basket before going into my room to get my phone.

  I see that Jesse has called three times. I text that I’ll call her soon then return to the kitchen. I notice that Lars has brought in a vase of flowers from the dining room and put it by the plates. Something tugs at my heart. How amazing it would be if this was real. That I’m taking a picture for a Lars and I album. I start clicking and sweeping the camera around to get a few shots of the chef. I try to take a few head shots too. There’s no way I’m sending Tamara pictures of a half-naked Lars.

  Lars pours coffee into a mug. “Do you want milk or sugar?”

  I shake my head and he sets the mug in front of me

  “Where’s Emma Jean?” I ask, picking up the coffee.

  “She never comes in the day after the party. Everybody is usually hungover in their beds, and no one comes around for food.”

  I take a sip and nearly spit it out. Forcing myself to swallow it, I look at him. “What the hell have I just drank?”

  He grins. “Cowboy coffee. Strong enough to float a horseshoe.”

  “Ugh, it’s how I imagine battery acid would taste.” I stand up and walk over to the fridge. Getting a carton of orange juice, I pour myself a glass of it and walk back to the table. As I pass by, Lars’ large hand curls around my thigh. I look down at him.

  “I never got my morning kiss, sugar pie,” he drawls.

  I bend down and lightly place my lips on his. His other hand comes up and winds into my hair. His tongue forces its way into my mouth. I suck it and his other hand slides up my thigh. My stomach becomes jelly. His mouth leaves mine, but his eyes watch my face avidly as his fingers run along my wet seam.

  “Are we really going to waste all this food?” I ask in a shivery voice.

  “I’ll make us more,” he mutters.

  I look deep into his beautiful eyes. “Do all your hook-ups get this treatment in the morning?”

  His fingers still. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “I mean you’ve had a lot of experience, haven’t you?”

  “I’ve had my share,” he says with a slow, cocky smile.

  “Do you make breakfast for them all?”

  His smile widens. “Sometimes I give them such a good time they give me breakfast in bed.”

  Arrogant pig. I keep my face totally straight and my voice solemn and slightly apologetic. “I know you tried, but I didn’t have a very good time last night.”

  It’s water off a duck’s back.

  “What if I told you I don’t believe you,” he replies.

  I run a finger down
his straight nose. “You’re very, very sure of yourself, aren’t you?”

  His hand caresses my butt cheek. “I am. Are you very, very sure of your assertion.”

  I nod slowly.

  “Care to test out your theory?”

  I put my glass of orange juice on the table. “How?”

  He shrugs. “If I’m really awful, you should have no problem resisting me, should you?”

  I pretend to consider. “That’s true.”

  “You should be able to say no, no matter what I do.”

  I pick a sausage from his plate and lick it slowly.

  His eyes widen. “What are you doing?”

  I look at him innocently. “Nothing. Haven’t you seen a girl lick a sausage before?”

  “No. Has anyone ever told you what happens to girls who lick sausages?”

  “No. What?”

  “They usually get thrown on a table and end up begging for more.”

  “There’s more evidence of your caveman techniques,” I say before gently sucking the tip of the sausage.

  “Right. I’m going to get you to admit that I’m the best you’ve ever had, or I’m never eating another sausage in my life.”

  I want to giggle so bad. “You can try, cowboy,” I say in my sultriest voice.

  He stands up and sweeps all the plates of food to the floor. They smash and food flies everywhere. My jaw hangs open. “I can’t believe you did-”

  He grabs me by the waist, lifts me up, and sets me on the edge of the table. “Hey,” I exclaim as he grasps my knees and pulls them apart. “What are you doing?”

  “Haven’t you ever seen a man lick a pussy?” he asks.

  I place my palms on his chest and crinkle my nose. “You’re not seriously going to do that, are you? Not after all the sex last night?”

  “Why not? Day old muff. Heaven sliced up,” he mocks.

  My mouth drops open with shock. “You really are irredeemable.”

  “Now, have you got any other excuses, or are you ready to submit?”