Authors: Deborah Bladon
Ellie
His kiss is demanding. His lips are soft, their touch gentle at first, but then they part and his tongue greedily finds mine.
His moans are raw as his large hands cup my neck, controlling the tilt of my head and the pressure of his mouth on mine. He whispers something against my lips as he pulls back to catch a breath. I don't hear it. I can't make it out, but I sense it.
The desire is there in his kiss, and in his touch.
I reach up to wind my fingers through his hair. That pulls another sound from within him, but this time it's a groan. It's deep and gruff, the sound reverberating through him and into me.
"I'll give you anything you want," he whispers against my cheek as he breaks the kiss. "Tell me what you want, Ellie."
Everything. All of it. I want to feel and taste. I want to touch the skin that's hidden under his clothes. I want to hear the sound of his breathing and then when it hitches I want to savor that, knowing that he came just for me.
"I want you inside of me," I manage to say before his hand drops to my thigh.
His fingers race up my skin stopping when they reach that spot. It's the spot where the bullet hit me. I hated the scar for years. I was wary each time I took off my clothes in front of a man, worried that he wouldn't see anything but the jagged edge of the circular imperfection on my skin.
The men I've been with have never asked me about it, or even acknowledged it. They've all been too busy chasing their own needs. Even the man I promised to marry couldn't be bothered to understand the hidden pain that the scar represents. He knew I'd been shot. He never said the words, but I could sense that it was merely a flaw to him that wasn't worth a touch.
Nolan pulls back; his fingertip still focused on the scar. "Believe my words, Ellie. Every word I say to you, believe me."
I look into his eyes. I want to believe him, but this is fleeting. We have this one night. I don't expect more even if I want it. "I'll believe you tonight."
He shakes his head. There are words there, on his tongue, but they don't leave his lips. He scowls as if he's going to reprimand me for not having faith in him that this thing between us will still be alive tomorrow. It might smolder for a week or two, but I have to stay grounded. I can't let myself want what I can't have.
Disappointment has been as much a part of my life as breathing. I don't know what it feels like to get the things you desire. That's why I stopped wishing for anything I don't already have.
He kisses his way down my neck. His lips are plush and soft as they leave a trail of desire that heats my skin. I squirm when he reaches my shoulders, and his fingers push aside the small, thin straps of material that hold my dress in place.
I'm hit with a rush of frustration when his mouth stops as it reaches the top of my breasts. He squeezes them, his fingers plumping my pebbled nipples through the thin fabric.
He's on his knees before I realize what's happening. His hands slide over the back of my legs from my ankles, up my calves and then to my thighs. He fists the hem of the skirt of my dress into his hands, pulling it up as he goes.
I shiver when my almost bare ass is exposed to the air conditioned room. I feel the smile on his lips against the skin of my thigh. "Your body is beautiful, Ellie. It's so fucking beautiful."
I believe him. I don't know if it's because I need to or want to. I don't care. I want to be beautiful to him. I want to be the only woman he wants or needs, even if it's just right at this moment.
He moves then. His lips search out that one spot of skin on my outer thigh that his fingers were so focused on. He kisses my scar, softly and tenderly. Reverently.
"You saved a life."
I nod, unable to form any words. It's just a kiss, but the sensation and the words combined overwhelm me.
"The next time I fuck you, I'm going to spend hours licking your pussy." His mouth moves across my thigh to the edge of my blue lace panties. "I'm going to pull you onto my face and you'll ride me until you come over and over again. Until your taste is imprinted on my lips and until the only thing I can smell is the scent of you."
My knees buckle from his fevered words. I stumble only for a second before his strong hands grab hold of me, leveling my balance.
"Tonight I'll sample this," he rasps as his right hand fists the edge of my panties before they snap apart under his touch. "A taste and then I need to fuck."
I reach down to steady myself, my fingers tugging on his hair. My eyes close when I feel his lips on me. He parts my folds with his tongue. I moan softly as he hones in on my pulsing clit. The pressing need to come chases everything else away.
"Please, Nolan," I murmur as my hips circle slowly. My body finds its own rhythm, desperate for the release that his lips and tongue promise.
He answers my plea with a finger. One long, expert finger glides inside of me, its path clear as it seeks out that spot that I sense will send me reeling. I've never been with a man who knew how to eat me this way, with just the right balance of slow, smooth lashes of his tongue and the voracity of his lips as they suck on my swollen nub of nerves. No one has ever slid a finger inside of me and crooked it at just the right angle, so my body reacts without thought.
I'm so close that I whimper. I can't control it. I want the release so desperately that I dig my fingernails into his scalp, grinding myself on his mouth, aching for him to take me there. I crave more. I need more as much as I need my next breath. I don't care what I look like or sound like. I just want to come.
"I have to fuck you," he whispers against my flesh. "The first time you come for me I want to feel it around my cock."
I close my eyes at the heat in his words. It's there in his voice, the raging need to be inside me.
"Christ, Ellie."
I feel his breath on my neck, sense the movement of his hands, and hear the unmistakable rattle of a belt buckle and a zipper lowering.
I open my eyes to the darkened room. There's enough light from a small lamp in the corner to illuminate us both. I see his cock. Beautiful. It's long and thick, jutting out from his body. He pulls a condom package from the front pocket of his pants. I watch silently as he sheathes himself, slowly and meticulously. His large fist pumps over the barrier that is now the only thing separating the two of us.
He kisses me again, but this time the tenderness is buried beneath a layer of measured aggression. His tongue tangles with mine, teasing and taunting. I push my body closer to his, wanting to feel every part of him that's exposed.
He's as dressed as he was when we got here. His shoes are still on. Only one button is undone on his pressed shirt. His pants hang open, enough that his cock has the room it needs, but the rest of him is hidden away.
I try to unbutton his shirt but his hands are on mine, tugging them behind my back. "Your hands. I can't. If you touch me, I'll blow apart. I fucking swear I will come apart, Ellie. Don't."
I whimper. "Fuck me then."
"That mouth," he hisses. "That goddamn mouth of yours makes me so fucking hard."
I try to move but his grip is too tight. I lean forward and run my tongue over his jaw, across the stubble that's now taken root on his skin. I bite him softly. "Don't wait. Take me now."
He grinds against me, one hand cupping the nape of my neck, the other circles my waist. His movements are precise, quick and fluid. He spins us both around, lowering me onto my back on the leather couch.
"I've thought about this a million times," he says darkly. "You like this. Spread open, wet, aching for me."
He moves and my body does too, seamlessly my legs part and he settles between them. His cock is resting against my thigh. It's heavy, needy.
He palms it as he looks down at me. His eyes are hooded and filled with lust. "You tell me if it's too much, Ellie. You tell me to stop if that's what you need."
"Yes," I breathe, my body pulsating with need. "I will if it's too much, but I like when it hurts."
He circles my clit with the head of his cock before he slams himself into me in one solid thrust.
I scream because it's uncontainable. The bite of pain wrapped around so much pleasure bows my back. I grab onto his shoulders, my nails digging through the fabric of his shirt, trying to etch a mark into his flesh. I want to own a piece of him, just as he owns me right now.
He pumps, lightly at first as if I'm a doll who will break into a million pieces if she's fucked too hard.
"I want this," I purr through a moan. "You won't hurt me."
He pushes deeper, my body adjusting to him, not easily, but eagerly. He pumps harder, each movement of his hips in tandem with a groan from his lips.
"Fuck," he growls as he kisses my neck. More words are there, but they get lost in his breath on my skin.
I moan when his hand tugs the front of my dress down. I whimper when he bites my nipple between his teeth, and then I come. I come hard as he relentlessly drives his cock into my core.
He kisses me through my orgasm, his teeth scraping against my bottom lip. "Give me another, Ellie. Let me hear that again."
I do. I lick my index finger, slide it down my stomach and rest it against my still throbbing clit. I circle it slowly as he watches, his cock pulsing inside me, even though he's as still as the air that surrounds us. My hips move, seeking more. I grind up and into him, brazenly taking what I want. I get it when I feel the rush of the next climax, potent and fierce as it rolls through me.
"I could come just from the sight of that." He rests his forehead against mine as we both look down at our bodies connected. "That was so fucking hot."
He bucks, grinding into me. His hand moves, trailing soft fingertips down my stomach, to my hip. His touch changes as he grips my skin. He presses, holding me down as his untamed need to come takes over again.
His mouth roughly claims mine as he pumps deep, long strokes that spike heated pleasure through me before he finds his own release. My whispered name on his lips is the only sound in the room as his chin drops and his heavy breaths stutter.
Ellie
"Tell me what I can do for you, Ellie."
I stare at him. He's standing now, his pants still hanging open, his cock tucked back inside his boxer briefs. He kissed me softly after his orgasm, telling me over and over again how good it felt when I came around his cock. When I asked for a glass of water, he tied off the condom and walked into the kitchen. I took a deep breath. It did nothing to steady my nerves or to slow my rapid heartbeat.
"Can I use the bathroom?" I ask quietly. "I need to put myself back together."
"You could let me take you apart again," he says with a smile.
I could. I will. First, I need to find out if my legs still work. "The bathroom first, please."
He holds out his hand, and I reach for it. I'm acutely aware of his every touch now that he's been inside of me and I've heard the way his breath catches when his hips pump.
The man can fuck. Even with his clothes on and his polished shoes still neatly tied, he tore me apart. My pussy aches, my heart is thrumming a beat that I can hear vibrating in my ears and my dress is a twisted mess.
Yet, he looks like someone who caught a sprint on his way out the door after a late shower. His hair is tousled from where I ran my fingers through it. His shirt is slightly askew. Beyond his still open pants, he looks every inch the successful businessman. A few quick fixes and he would captivate an entire boardroom of Matiz executives without anyone knowing what he just did.
I'm tempted to ask him to strip so that I can savor the sight of his nude body and take that memory home with me to bed. I don't. Instead, I squeeze his hand and push myself up from the couch.
"You tore my panties," I accuse as I smooth out my skirt. "Now, I have to go home without them."
His eyes search the floor for the small bunch of lace that used to cover me. "That's not a complaint, is it?"
How could it be? It's been awhile since I've been fucked. It's been never since I was fucked like that. He could have ripped my dress to shreds and sent me on my way with just my purse and my shoes, and I would have politely thanked him for the orgasms and dinner.
"I should take my purse with me," I say aloud, even though the only reason I need it is so I can fix my makeup. I'm not sure why. He just told me he wants me again.
He leads me across the room to the piano and the spot I left my purse when we first arrived. I follow quietly, watching him move. He stalks the space with the familiarity we all do when we're in our home. He inches around the piano bench without looking down at it. He maneuvers slightly to the left when we reach the corner that leads down a hallway with three white doors.
"The guest bath is the second door on the right."
I nod as my gaze skims over the two dark wooden frames hung on the wall in the hallway. They're both pictures, each capturing a sailboat on a body of water. The photograph farthest from us is taken from a distance. The pink stained sky of early evening gives way to blue water and a lone sailboat, peaceful as the sun sets, not a soul in sight.
The second picture is more defined. The sailboat is different. It's larger. The sails crisp and white, too tall to fit in the frame. A group of people stands on deck, all smiling with their hands in the air as if the photographer caught them mid-wave. There are two children and five adults. A black and white dog sits in the middle of the shot, eyes trained on whoever is holding the camera.
"Is this your family?" I look up at Nolan and smile. "Are you sailors?"
He takes a step forward, his expression pained. "This was taken a long time ago. It was a very long time ago."
I lick my lips. My throat is dry and my regret is high for bringing it up. "It looks fun. I've never been on a sailboat."
"It's exhilarating." He tilts his head as he studies my face. "I haven't been on one in years myself. You never forget the rush of the air or the feeling of freedom."
"They're beautiful pictures," I say slowly. "Are you one of those kids?"
It's a natural assumption. One of the men bears a striking resemblance to Nolan. His chin is set the same and the shape of his eyes is identical, but there are differences too. His hair is sun-streaked. It's a combination of golden brown with blonde streaks. The wrinkles around his eyes and mouth are more pronounced because of the bronze color of his skin. He's tall, but the other men in the photograph are taller, their shoulders broader.
The children's faces are shadowed with the wide brims of hats and their torsos covered with red and yellow trimmed life jackets. They look like pure sunshine, with smiles that reek of privilege and hope. I never smiled like that when I was their age. I'm not sure I've ever smiled like that.
"You're right. They are beautiful pictures." He skips past my question as he steps toward the washroom. "You can use this one. I'll use the one attached to the bedroom."
I nod as he hastily crosses the hall and disappears into the shadows of his bedroom.
***
I smooth back my hair as I listen to Adley's panicked voice in my ear.
Finally, I get my first chance to speak since calling her when I noticed she texted me more than a dozen times. "You locked yourself out? I thought the party you were having was inside our apartment, Ad."
"It was." Her voice trembles. "I drank too much and I have to work early tomorrow, so I went to the café around the corner to get a cup of coffee. I forgot my keys. I'm tired, Bean."
"We have coffee," I say even though it's a useless reminder at this point. "Did you call Tori to see if she could let you up?"
"She's in Oregon for a family thing," she replies quickly. "I called her first. She'd let me in if she weren't clear across the country."
Tori lives in the apartment above us. She and Adley used to be roommates before Tori fell in love on the elevator with a fireman who just moved into the building. It was a whirlwind romance that left Adley with an orange bridesmaid dress she hates and an empty bedroom.
The timing couldn't have been better for me, though. Tori moved out just over two months ago and since Adley was slow to start the search for a new roommate, I was able to move in.
"I'm still at the coffee shop, Ellie." Adley clears her throat. "I tried standing in front of the building for more than fifteen minutes but no one came home. Besides, even if I get inside the front door, I can't get into our apartment. It has that automatic lock on it."
I know exactly what she's talking about. When I left to get shampoo on my first night back, I realized I'd forgotten my wallet as soon as our apartment door closed behind me. It was locked tight when I turned back to open it. I had to pound on it loudly to steal Adley's attention away from the program she was watching on her laptop. It's a great security feature for hotel rooms, but for apartments it's more annoying than anything.
"I'm with Nolan," I whisper even though I haven't heard any movement at all in the hallway. "I don't want to leave yet."
"Can't you just come home for two minutes to let me in?" She sighs heavily. "You're not that far away, Bean."
I shake my head as I stare at my reflection in Nolan's bathroom mirror. My makeup held up better than I thought it would. Those free Matiz samples I get to take home from the store are worth it. "You should call the building manager to let you in, Ad. When Nolan called him about the air conditioner, he was at our place in no time. Nolan's place is across town."
"How is that possible?"
"How is what possible?" I press my free ear against the bathroom door, but still, I hear nothing.
"I distinctively recall you telling me that Nolan lives close to Cremza. That's four blocks from here, Bean. You could walk here, let me in, and be back there in less than twenty minutes."
I watch my smile give way to hesitation in the mirror's reflection. He did say that. He made a point of saying he was a regular because he lived near the ice cream shop, but the definition of
near
varies depending on who you're talking to.
Nolan has a private driver at his beck and call which means that everywhere in Manhattan is close to here. For those of us who depend on our own two feet and public transportation, it's far. When we were done eating our burger earlier, Nolan called the driver and he quickly pulled up next to the curb, by the street cart. We hopped in the air conditioned car and he brought us here. I know if we took the subway or the bus, it would have taken infinitely longer. "Give me ten minutes, Ad. I'll call you back."
"Are you coming to save me?" she asks overdramatically. "I can't sit in this coffee shop all night, Elinor."
I don't laugh the way I usually do when she uses my full name. Instead, I end the call and swing open the washroom door, intent on asking Nolan if I could borrow his driver so I can help out my friend before I crawl into bed with him.