by Jen DeLuca
He didn’t look convinced, although humor danced in his eyes. “Promise?” He dipped me back, lowering me to my couch.
“Promise,” I said. But I couldn’t resist. “I mean, unless you’re doing laundry or something. We’re right above the garage.”
He looked alarmed. “What if she decides to do laundry?”
“This late at night?” I shook my head. “Now, shush.” I reached for him, and he sank to his knees in front of the couch. He didn’t kiss me, though, not yet. Instead he pushed gently on my shoulders, laying me back against the couch cushions before tugging my panties down my legs and off. He pulled the blanket away gently, as if he were unwrapping a Christmas present.
“Let me look at you. Please.”
I drew a nervous breath, exceedingly conscious that he was not seeing me at the best angle. I looked better lying flat, not in this half-reclining state. But I couldn’t say no to him. I couldn’t deny the shine in his eyes, the wonder in his gaze as his fingertips glided up my thighs, encouraging them to part for him. Oh, God, he was going to touch me. Finally. And it was going to devastate me. My eyes fell closed and my breath shuddered out of me as his fingers started exploring, fondling, stroking.
“Holy shit.” His voice was weak, little more than a whisper. I forced my eyes open to see him watching my face. “You’re the most beautiful . . .” He slid a finger inside me, then two, in then out slowly, every move deliberate yet gentle. Taking his time. Savoring. Meanwhile, I wasn’t sure I’d survive the night. My hips heaved up to meet his touch and my breasts felt swollen, heavy. I wanted to feel his touch everywhere. I cupped them in my hands, my nipples hard against my palms, not as good as his hands on me but the best I could get for now, and Daniel groaned.
“God, yeah. Keep doing that. Touch yourself for me.” His thumb slid up, hooking over that most sensitive part of me, almost sending me over the edge, and I bit my lip hard to keep from crying out. All joking aside, screaming in ecstasy in what was technically still my parents’ house wasn’t something I wanted to do. But Daniel was making it extremely difficult. He slid an arm around my back again, pulling me to sit up, to perch on the edge of the couch, while he knelt up against me, his hand still busy between my legs, his mouth on the side of my neck.
“You’re so wet.” His voice was a low growl in my ear, and his words sent a thrill through me, making me clench around his fingers. “And tight . . . Is this how you’re going to feel? God, I want you so bad, but I can’t stop.”
“Don’t stop,” I gasped. “Don’t you dare stop.” I wound my arms around his shoulders, holding on, trusting him, while I rode his hand shamelessly. It was too much. All of my senses were full of him, but it wasn’t enough. I wanted more. I needed him. I reached down, pushing at his unfastened pants that hung low around his hips, but he shook his head.
“Not yet. This is for you. All for you.” His teeth sank gently into my earlobe, tugging, then his tongue soothed the bite. “I’ve imagined how you’d look, how you’d feel . . . let me see this. Let me see you. Let me feel you. Please.”
The combination of his words, his voice, his touch, it was too much. Too much to take, and soon I was clutching his shoulders, fingernails digging in, as I gasped and my body shook in his arms. His mouth covered mine, taking my cries into himself, swallowing them. It took somewhere between a few moments and forever for me to come back to myself, and I sagged against him, my head dropping to his shoulder.
“Now?” I asked. My voice was a plaintive whine, but I was too satisfied to care. “Now will you take your pants off?”
His laugh was an explosion of breath in my ear. “Oh, gladly.”
I expected him to stand up, or to push me back down onto the couch again. Instead he moved backward, sitting, then lying flat on the area rug beneath him, pulling me with him. I spilled down beside him in a tangle of limbs.
“Are you kidding me?” I pushed up on my elbows and watched lasciviously as he stood and finally, finally, finished the job I’d started on his pants roughly a million years ago. My breath escaped my body in a long whoosh as his pants hit the floor, and it was all I could do to keep teasing him. “You really have something against my bed, don’t you?”
“What?” He tossed his wallet down near my head before kneeling down next to me again. “This rug is great. I’ve always wanted to make love on a pink fake fur rug with sparkles on it.”
“Hey, I love this rug. I take a lot of Instagram photos on this rug.” Though maybe not anytime in the near future, after what was apparently about to happen on this rug. I’d probably need to clean it first.
“Anyway, your bed is ridiculous, and I’m just fine here.” He crawled up my body, caging me in his arms to claim a kiss. So much heat. So much bare skin, soft and hard and hot against mine. “As long as I’m with you, I’m fine anywhere.” His arms tightened around me and he rolled us, stretching his long, long legs under me and pulling me firmly on top of him. “Come here,” he said. “I’ll be your bed.”
“Mmm. Best bed ever.” How could one person’s skin feel so right against mine? I wound my legs around his and relished the feel of his body under mine. He was long, lean, and hard where I was short and soft, but somehow we fit. Everything about him fit everything about me.
Well, almost everything. There was one thing we hadn’t tried the fit of yet. And I couldn’t wait any longer. I reached down between us, taking him back into my hand again, and the breath rushed out of his lungs. He was harder, hotter than he’d been before, throbbing in my hand as I stroked him, and I stole a glance up toward the bathroom, and the box of condoms that I knew was in my medicine cabinet. So far away. I hadn’t trained Benedick how to bring me things, and that was super inconvenient right now. Where was a Harry Potter spell when you needed it? Accio prophylactic!
“Wait.” He reached above his head for his wallet, fumbling with it. “Here, wait. I’ve got . . .” A ridiculous number of business cards spilled to the floor before he finally produced a condom and pressed it into my hand.
“Ohthankgod.” The words exploded out of me in a sigh, and I wasted no time in sheathing him up. I watched his eyes as I sank down onto him—they were dark now, deep, dark green and so very hot—and my own eyes fluttered in reaction to the stretch of him inside me. I caught my breath and he caught my hands, balancing me, as I took him in a little at a time. I could feel him everywhere, but it still wasn’t enough. I wanted more.
Beneath me, Daniel let out a strangled moan. His eyes slid closed as his head dropped back, the cords of his neck taut. I needed to taste that throat so I did, leaning down, laving his pulse with my tongue while his hands urged my hips to move, to ride him. “Please.” The word tore itself from his chest. “Please, you’ve got to . . .”
So I did. Being on top wasn’t my forte—talk about an unflattering angle, right?—but I persevered. I pushed up with my hands on his chest for balance, keeping my movements teasingly slow, and watched him slowly lose his mind underneath me. It was a beautiful sight. Maybe there was something to unflattering angles after all.
Soon Daniel took over, steadying me with firm hands on my hips, his fingertips making divots in my skin. He moved my body the way he wanted it, thrusting up into me, and it was just on the right side of pain. “Please,” he said again. It seemed to be all he could say. I curled a hand on his chest, my nails scratching lightly, and he sucked in a hiss of a breath. His eyes opened and he gazed up at me, the green of his eyes almost eclipsed by dark pupils. I wanted to drown in him, in the way he looked at me.
“Now.” One hand on my hip slid inward, down to where we were joined, hooking, stroking. “Now. Give me . . .”
I couldn’t hear him anymore. I could barely see him. All I knew was the pleasure streaking through me in bright waves. Too bright. Too much. I shuddered above him and he pulled me down, his mouth finding mine, closing over mine, and there was nothing but mouths and tongues,
thrusts and moans and shivers and his skin against mine.
Afterward, we lay together on that fake fur rug, and he wrapped his arms around me as though he’d never let me go. Long minutes passed as I nestled my head into the hollow of his shoulder and sighed in pure contentment.
“You should probably stay.” I had just enough energy to turn my head and lay a kiss on his throat. “The storm still sounds really bad out there.” The rain had stopped a while back; my skylight had gone silent and the moon had even come out around the time of my second orgasm.
“Mmmm,” he murmured in agreement. “I don’t think I want to drive in this. You’re right.”
Eventually, we made it to the bed. Daniel didn’t say another word about the bedsprings.
Eighteen
My stomach was warm when I woke up, which wasn’t a surprise. More often than not, Benedick joined me in bed, nestling into my belly as I slept on my side, making himself my little spoon.
But this morning felt different. I was warmer, not just from the fuzzy warmth of the cat. I felt warm all over. As I reached for Benedick, stroking his fur with sleepy, half-awake movements, an arm tightened around my waist. I came fully awake and aware: Daniel was curled around my back, holding me to him in much the same way Benedick was nestled into me. I had both a big and a little spoon, and I was safe and secure in this cocoon of warmth.
Too bad I had to pee.
After extricating myself, to an admonishing chirrup from Benedick and a sleepy protest from Daniel, I came back from the bathroom to find that Benedick had found another spot to sleep: on Daniel’s pillow.
“I think he likes me.” He reached up to rub between Benedick’s ears, and the cat closed his eyes in sleepy pleasure. Daniel watched the cat for a moment, then turned his attention back to me.
“He’s not the only one.” I took his outstretched hand and let him pull me back into bed and tuck the blankets around us both. Morning light streamed in through the skylight in my kitchen, but by unspoken agreement, we refused to believe it was morning.
“Any plans today?”
“Hmmm. Besides this?” I grinned as his arms tightened around me. Could we just spend the day like this? Sure, we’d have to eat at some point, but that’s what takeout was for, right?
“Wait,” Daniel said. “It’s Monday. Don’t you have to go to work?”
I shook my head. “I take Mondays off during Faire.”
“Good thinking. And they don’t mind?” He pushed a lock of my hair off my shoulder, letting his fingertips linger on my skin.
“Nope.” It was hard to concentrate on answering his question when his mouth replaced his fingertips, working his way slowly up to where my neck met my shoulder. “I cover for people other times . . . like Christmas and . . .” Oh, who cared about my vacation schedule when Daniel’s mouth was on my skin? How could I make this last forever?
I was still pondering this question an hour or so later, after he’d borrowed both my shower and a new toothbrush from my medicine cabinet. He looked so good, wearing yesterday’s clothes, his auburn hair wet and combed back, sitting at my dinette table drinking coffee out of one of my pink mugs. He looked like he belonged in my life. I didn’t want to think about Faire ending, and him moving on to the next town.
Daniel peered out my front window, down to where his truck was still parked in the driveway. “Think your mom is up doing laundry yet?”
I snorted. For a grown man, he was really worried about my mother. “Probably not. Are you that worried about the walk of shame you have to do to your truck?”
“Not really.” He went to refill his coffee mug, then moved to the fridge for the milk. He wasn’t lying; he took a ridiculous amount of milk in his coffee. “As walks of shame go, this one seems pretty mild. It’s what, about thirty feet?” But there was concern in his eyes when he turned to me. “Why, do you think I should be worried?”
“Honestly, she probably didn’t even notice you were here.” I blew across the surface of my own coffee before taking a sip. I was lying. Mom had to have seen Daniel’s truck in the driveway when she got up this morning. I was impressed with her restraint, really. I’d fully expected her to call by now. But Daniel looked so worried about parental confrontation that I didn’t want to worry him.
He checked his watch and groaned. “I probably should head back.”
“Are you sure?” I pouted theatrically, and he grinned in response.
“Sadly, yes. I have some paperwork I was putting off till this morning.” He took my hand, tugging me over to sit next to him, threading our fingers together. “If I’d known I’d be here this morning, I would’ve made other plans.”
“Well, you know where I live now. You’re welcome here anytime.” I loved Daniel in my space. He was tall, and he took up a lot of said space, but he also fit. We fit. I loved that.
My landline rang about thirty seconds after the sound of Daniel’s truck had faded, and I imagined my mother peering out the window, waiting to pounce. I was so glad she hadn’t pounced on poor Daniel.
“Did your friend leave already? I was going to see if you wanted to bring him down for breakfast.”
“Um . . .” My heart raced, as if I’d been caught. I’m twenty-seven, I reminded myself. I’m too old to be grounded by my mother. Out loud I said, “Yeah, he left. Sorry. I didn’t realize you wanted to make him pancakes.” An image of the look on Daniel’s face if I’d invited him downstairs for breakfast popped into my head, and I had to swallow hard against the giggle in my throat.
“Well, don’t be silly, Stacey. I wasn’t going to make him pancakes.”
“What then, eggs?” I took a sip of my coffee.
“I’ll have you know I made your father a frittata this morning. It turned out great, and if you’re going to be a smart mouth you can’t have any.” She sounded so prim that I couldn’t hold back my laugh this time. “Anyway.” There was a smile in her voice too. “What are you doing today?”
“I don’t know. I need to do laundry at some point, but other than that I think I might just take it easy. Yesterday was a pretty long day, with the wedding and all.” Followed by bringing Daniel home with me last night and . . . My mind was suddenly filled with the memory of Daniel waking me up sometime in the night with his mouth on my skin, me making a run for the condoms in the medicine cabinet, crawling back to bed in the dark, his body pulsing against mine, into mine, softly as he reminded me that we had to be quiet, so quiet . . . I shook my head hard as I remembered I was talking to my mother, and I forced a yawn instead. “I’m pretty beat today.” This was not a lie. I was sore in places I didn’t know could be sore.
“Well, if you’re not going to need the washer right away, I may get some laundry out of the way this morning.”
“Yeah, Mom, of course. It’s your washer, after all. I can do mine after dinner.” Why was she asking me permission when it was her house, her appliances? Low-level annoyance churned in me, a response that made no sense.
That annoyance stayed with me after we hung up, and I couldn’t make sense of it, nor could I make it go away, so instead I spent the day putting my life back in order. I took an Uber over to April’s place to pick up my car. I straightened up my place, which, considering its size, took about a half hour. I took a spin through social media on my phone, uploading some of the pics I took at the wedding, but even the little hearts of social media attention left me feeling restless. I played with Benedick, but as the afternoon got warm he abandoned me and my feather on a string for a nap on the couch.
Maybe he had the right idea. I settled down beside him with a cup of tea, a few of the chocolate chip cookies Mom had made a couple days ago, and our Fun Book Club selection. Our meeting was coming up, and since I’d be leading it in Emily’s absence due to her honeymoon, I should probably read the damn thing. I tucked my feet under me and let one hand rest on Benedick, who purred in his sleep
as I rubbed behind his ears. Now would have been a good time for that rainstorm we’d had last night, but I made do with the quiet, sunny afternoon, reading a good book with my cat curled up by my side.
A few chapters in, I glanced down at my phone on the arm of the couch, which had lit up with notifications. I swiped it awake, and the first thing I saw were some tagged pictures of me at the wedding, dancing with Daniel. The first shot was of the two of us from the side, me laughing at something he’d said, him smiling down at me. The second shot was of me from behind, and I scowled a little at it. Not a good angle at all. My finger hovered over the picture, about to untag myself from it, but I hesitated. Sure, the angle wasn’t the best, and my face wasn’t even visible. But there was something about the way Daniel’s large hands cradled my back, something about the way he looked down at me as though he’d never want anything else in his life, that made me want to claim that moment, preserve it.
Last night with him had been perfect, in every single way. I wanted to tag every second of it with our names.
* * *
• • •
In some ways it was weird that my relationship with Daniel became so intense so fast. I wasn’t usually the kind of girl to sleep with a guy so soon into a relationship—Dex aside, but let’s be real, I’d never thought of him as a relationship when we were having sex—but those months of emails and texts had laid so much groundwork. Now that we’d gotten used to seeing each other in person, we could skip the awkward small talk portion of things and go straight into being . . . well, not in love. We weren’t using that word. Not yet. But we were definitely together.
Daniel fit into my life like a puzzle piece I didn’t realize had been missing. There were the same good-morning texts and late-night chat sessions. But there were also the flowers he sent to my work on Wednesday, and the pizza I had delivered to his hotel room Thursday night while we spent the night binging on bad reality television.