by Allen, Dylan
I throw her legs over my shoulders and pull her clit into my mouth and suck her hard.
She screams, her thighs clamping around my head, the piano playing the rhythm of her release as she bucks against my mouth, her liquid ambrosia coating my tongue and my lips and I suck and drink like the fiend I am until I’m so close one touch would set me off.
Circling her waist to gain purchase on her body, I stand, lifting her to sit on top the piano. I swallow her cry of surprise with my mouth and kiss her, letting her taste how delicious she is, while I pull my dick out and press myself between her thighs.
Her pussy is soaking wet and I’m nearly frantic to get inside of her.
My dick is like a heat seeking missile and it thrusts home in hard stroke that makes my toes curl and draws a soft growl from the back of her throat.
“Feel how much I love you. Feel how deep it goes. I would do anything for you. Anything.” I vow to her.
“ I know…me, too. I’m so full…but more.” She moves her hips grinding down on my cock, trying take me deep.
I start slow, trying to hold off the climax that’s been building since I walked into find her waiting for me.
I kiss her neck, suck my way across her collarbone. Lick the freckles and beauty marks that make their home on the galaxy of her body.
I take my time with her spectacular breasts, sucking licking and biting until she’s writhing.
She holds either side of my face and kisses me with the same intensity.
I lay her back on the piano and stand over her, driving into her body in long, deep thrusts. Each one earns me a moan, that string together to make a hedonistic hymn.
I run hand up her body, relearning the way her skin feels against my palm. I trace the declaration of love she’s etched onto her ribs and slide up the valley of her breasts, hovering over her heart before my hand comes to rest on her throat.
I hook one knee over my other arm, close my eyes, and take what’s mine.
Outside of her body, nothing exists - my whole world is in her pussy.
When I can’t hold back any longer, I open my eyes.
As long as I live I’ll never forget how beautiful she is right now. Laid out on the blue piano she inspired, like a siren commanding the sea, her dark hair fanned out like chocolate flame, her skin flushed like a freshly shucked pearl and her eyes shining with that wide open honesty that plucked my heart out of my chest the night I met her.
I come with the force of a raging river. I roar her name so loud the sky trembles, spilling my future into her body, pledging my always to her.
Come With Me
BETH
We’re lying in the hazy afterglow of blistering orgasms. Both of us drenched in sweat and gasping to catch our breath.
We came back to his house, showered got into bed and at some point in the early hours of dawn, I woke up to the sweet sucking of his mouth on my breasts. We’ve made love twice since and the sun is just starting come up.
It’s always been this way between us. Since the first time we met, we’ve fit together like the pieces of a puzzle. Perfectly, easily, and when we were together the tableau of life goes from chaotic to sensible.
I start to drift off to sleep again when he turns on the light and gets out of bed.
I squint as my eyes protest and come up on my elbow.
He’s standing at the window, his back to me, his head pressed to the glass.
“What’s wrong?”
“I’m leaving tonight for Berlin tonight,” he says, his voice troubled.
“I know, it’s incredible. Your first headliner. It’s amazing.”
He shrugs, presses a palm to the glass, and sighs. I wrap the sheet around myself and go stand next to him. I press my cheek to his arm, and he sighs in relief and drapes an arm over my shoulder and pulls me to him. Yet…I can feel the discontent coming off him waves.
“Carter? What’s wrong?” I nudge him.
“Tonight was amazing.” He sounds like he’s trying to convince himself.
“But…”
He turns to face me, taking hold of my shoulders and pinning me with that intense stare of his.
“Will you come with me?” He asks and then cringes as if he’s bracing for a blow.
I don’t even need to think about it. This is everything I wanted and didn’t dare hope for. I lost my job and I can paint anywhere, so….
“I know it’s sudden. I don’t want to rush you, but it’s killing me to think about leaving you right now, even if it’s just for two weeks,” he says, his eyes worried and searching.
“Of course I’ll come.”
He closes his eyes and sags in relief.
“Did you think I’d say no?”
“You’ve got a life here,” he says.
I cup his precious beautiful face, and raise up on my toes to kiss him.
“You silly man. My life is here,” I point at my heart.
“And here.” I point at his.
He smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.
“I know baby, but…you had a plan.” He strokes the stack of bracelets on my wrist.
“Yes, but my dream came true today, and so my plans have changed. I want to come with you. I can paint anywhere.”
His smile is sunshine breaking through the clouds. He pulls me into a good old fashioned hug before he lifts me off my feet.
“Okay, I’ll have Dean get you an expedited passport. They can do it in hours. You’ll love Berlin and our last stop is Paris. I can’t wait to show you,” he says when he puts me down.
My heart is full to bursting. I’m not the girl in the fairytales I grew up reading. And yet somehow, I’m being given all of her treasures.
“I have one condition.” I smile mischievously.
He laughs. “Hit me with it.”
“Promise not to serenade me on stage every night?”
“What? Once is enough for you?” he says with mock affront.
“I’m sure someone got it on camera. So we can just relive the moment any time we want.”
“That’s cool. As long as we can relive the after party,” he quips and carries me back to bed.
When he kisses me, I don’t close my eyes, and neither does he and in his; I see forever.
City Of Lights
BETH
I’m woken up by Phil’s ring tone which has become synonymous with bad news. My dread only sharpens when I reach over and find Carter gone, long enough that his pillow has grown cold. I frown. This is the first time I’ve woken up to find him gone.
The tour has been amazing, it’s like being in a bubble where nothing exists. I’ve spent my days being a tourist in the cities we’ve stopped at and my nights watching Carter rocket from rising star to rock God. We’ve made love everywhere, eaten the most delicious food and fallen even more in love every night.
Paris is our last stop, and yesterday was their final show.
We ate a celebratory dinner with the rest of the band before he took me to the Eiffel tower. He gave me the necklace, a rope of gold and jewels he bought in Venice…so like the one I remember my mother wearing and told me how he’d been saving it for the perfect moment.
We made love in the car on our way back to our hotel. He built us a bed of blankets in front of the fireplace in our suite and made love until we fell asleep on a cloud of bliss and contentment.
So this is a rude awakening. I groan and swing my legs over the edge of the bed in a rush to get to my phone before I miss Phil’s call. I groan when I see it’s a Facetime video call and run my hands through my hair.
“Phil, what’s wrong?” I answer the phone without preamble.
“Clo, are you okay?” he breathes, his face a mask of relief and worry.
“I’m fine. What’s wrong?”
“Where’s Carter?” he asks in a clipped tone clearly not interested in niceties either.
“He’s already up, hold on. Let me check the living room. What’s going on?”
“He l
eft you alone?” he barks, his brows drawing together.
“What do you mean? Wait,” I snap,annoyed with him but more focused on finding Carter.
I walk into the suite’s living area and it’s quiet. My stomach tightens and I look back at Phil’s expectant face.
“He’s not here. And you’re scaring me. What’s wrong?”I demand.
“Haven’t you watched the news?” he asks and I shake my head slowly as my fear ratchets up.
Dean told us that his public declaration at the concert had gone viral and that we were the talk of the gossip machine. We were determined to lay low and enjoy being back together. We kept the television off and our phones were blocking calls from anyone who wasn’t in our contacts.
We knew the world was going crazy around us. But that was two weeks ago. I was sure it had all died down by now.
I push my hair out of my face and sit down on the coach, my legs suddenly not feeling so sturdy.
“What’s happening?” I ask and walk to the living room and grab the remote. I turn the TV on and flip to CNN.
“I told you lay low. Now they know where you are and they’re coming for you,” he snaps.
“Coming for me? I’m in Paris. They may be the law in Winsome, but they can’t do anything to me here,” I insist, reassuring myself more than anything else as my eyes scan the featured news items.
The headline says,“Runaway Heiress Found.”
I watch, my horror growing by the second. The segment starts with the clip of me pulling off my wig and wiping off my make up.”
The voiceover reporter says,“She left her fiancé at the altar and was thought to be living in Austin. Turns out, she disappeared without a word to her family. She’s living a new life, with a new identity and a new love.”
It cuts to the kiss Carter and I shared on stage the night of his show. The voice ends on an ominous, “After months of searching and suffering in silence, her family says they just want her to come back home. And they’re breaking their silence to try and reach her.”
“Breaking their silence? About what?” I yell, and turn the tv off, and throw the remote to the other end of the couch.
“I don’t know, maybe about you and Carter?”
My blood boils. “What about us? There’s nothing to tell. Not anymore.”
“You know that. But as far as he knows, Carter is his son, and you’re his daughter. You all have answers that he doesn’t. I don’t think he’ll out himself. I think he just wants you to make contact.
“I don’t have all the answers, Phil,” I rub my temple in firm circular strokes, trying to sooth my blooming headache.
Where the hell is Carter? I look around the suite for signs of him. His phone is gone, but wallet and watch are on the dresser.
All of the questions I’ve been avoiding since Carter and I got back together, the ones I thought I could ignore, have only grown more insistent.
“We know that Andrew Wolfe took you from Susan Kendicott because you’re his son. We know that you and Carter are full siblings. We know that I am not biologically related to either of you.”
“That doesn’t make you any less my sister, Clo. And I don’t want to hear you say anything like that.” Phil’s expression is fierce and I sigh impatiently.
“I know that. That’s not what I mean. Did he and mom take me from someone, too? I mean, I look like her. But I thought I had his eyes. If she knew Andrew Wolfe wasn’t, how mom could leave me with him?”
“Why don’t you ask her?” Phil’s voice is gentle, sympathetic, but knowing.
Resignation and fear settle on my shoulders.
“Because, I’m afraid to hear the answer,” I admit.
“The Elisabeth Wolfe I know eats her fear for breakfast. So, I’m going to text you her number so you can call her. She’s in Geneva. Maybe since you’re so close, you should go see her.”
My heart leaps in my chest and I let out a big breath.
“You’re right.”
The beep of the door’s key card entry being disarmed, makes me nearly dizzy with relief.
“Carter’s back,” I tell Phil, but my eyes are trained on the door, a smile on my face now that he’s back.
Until I see his face. He’s drenched in sweat, dressed like he went for a run. And he looks unbearably sad. He stops short when he sees me, as if he’d forgotten I was here. He pulls his sweatshirt over his head and when his face comes back into view, all of the emotion is gone from his face.
Fear wraps an icy hand around my throat.
Instead of answering me, his eyes narrow on the phone in my hand and his jaw tightens,
“Who are you talking to,” he snaps. I’m so startled by the unbridled hostility in his voice that I don’t answer.
He snatches the phone before I even see him reach for it.
“Carter,” I gasp in shock.
He ignores me and looks at the screen and then closes his eyes and lets out a breath before he relaxes.
“Hey, Phil,” he says
“Hey, Carter, you okay, buddy?” Phil asks.
His expression tightens, but he nods. “Yeah, just went for a run. I was going to call you later. I heard from Dean this morning. Susan Kendicott wrote back. She’s agreed to see us,” he says.
“Oh thank fuck,” Phil says and I can hear the smile in his voice.
Carter looks… blank.
I frown at him and mouth. “Are you okay?”
He gives a terse nod, but walks to the window, his back to me now.
“When can we go see her?” Phil asks.
“I don’t know. I’ll check my calendar when I get home. I’ve got a busy few months.” Carter says.
“Few months? We needed to talk to her a few days ago. We can’t wait that long.”
“I said, I’ll let you know.”His voice is heavy with weariness.
“Okay… I take it you haven’t seen the news.” Phil sounds as confused as I am.
“I’ve seen it. They’re assholes,” he responds in a flat voice and then yawns wide enough that his jaw looks like it’s straining on its hinge.
“Yeah, but you know that if he knows where she is…he needs her married or dead. We have to keep an eyes on her.
“She’s fine. I’m keeping her safe, Phil,” he snaps.
“You left her alone,” Phil pushes.
“Yeah in our hotel room with a bodyguard outside, while I went for a fucking run. And now, I’m exhausted. Call you call later.” He hangs up before Phil can respond and tosses my phone on the couch.
“I’m gonna shower, can you order us some breakfast?” he says.
He kicks off his shoes, pulls his sweatpants down, peels his socks off, and turns to walk back into the bedroom.
I step into his path, plant my feet and put my hands on my hips. He bumps into me and has the nerve to look annoyed.
“What are you doing?” he asks and steps around me.
I step into his way again and he scowls.
“Why are you in such a bad mood? You were really rude to Phil and to me.” I cross my arms and glare a challenge at him.
He curses under breath and shuts his eyes for three long, anxious heartbeats. When he opens them, his anger is gone. He deflates a little and gives me a smile so sad it makes my heart ache.
“The house in Corsica - - it’s not going to work out,” he says it in a matter of fact voice that I know is hiding real disappointment. I know how much he wanted that house - and what it represented to him.
I wrap my arms around his waist, the cold from outside still clings to his sweat dampened skin, but it feels good against the heated skin of my face and I breathe in the cool, salty smell of him.
“I’m sorry baby, we’ll find you another one,” I murmur. His arms close around me and he holds me close, his face resting on top of my head, his breath coming in long, heavy sighs.
Abruptly, he lets go of me. He finishes taking off his clothes and walks into the bedroom without another word. I follow him in and watch hi
m sitting on the edge of the bed. His head hangs between his shoulders, his hands dangle between his knees.
My worry grows and I walk over to him, start to touch him and then hesitate when his body tenses at my approach.
“Are you sure that’s all?” I make my voice as gentle as I can because it’s clear something is. I don’t miss the way his body tenses when I reach out to touch him. I draw my hand back.
He sighs, his eyes still glued to the floor. “Yeah… I’m really tired. I couldn’t sleep, turned on the TV and saw the news. I went for a run, just wanted to clear my head.”
“Why didn’t you wake me up?” I ask, surprised and hurt that he didn’t.
“You were sound asleep. I didn’t want to disturb you.” He closes his eyes “Ugh, I have fucking headache.” He groans and pinches the bridge of his nose.
“Just, come here,” He looks up, his eyes are so tired, the dark circles beneath them but they’re also full of pleading that I climb into his lap
He sighs in relief, closing me in his arms and resting his head on my shoulder and running a hand up and down my back, toying with the necklace he put there. The tension in his body eases, but it seeps into me, and expands.
“This is all I need. Just, you…” he says,
His words only heighten my worry.
“Tell me what’s wrong, baby,” I beg.
He shakes his head, “I’ve told you. And now, I want to shower and go back to bed with you next to me. I’m exhausted.”
There are dark circles under his eyes that testify to his words. But when he cups my cheek and presses a kiss to my lips, for the first time I ever, I taste distance.
I search his eyes and can see regret and something else that I can’t read, but don’t like. There’s something he’s not telling me, but I don’t want to force it out of him. I have to trust that if and when he needs to talk about it, he will. It’s clear that’s not happening now.
“Sure, we can do that.” I stroke his jaw and press a kiss to his forehead before I slide off his lap. He walks into the bathroom and I sit and stew.