by Cee, DW
Donovan grinned wide and kissed the other side of the neck that didn’t have any marks. “I was putting a stamp on my woman.”
“What am I, cattle? You’re branding me with your mouth?”
“You didn’t seem to mind when I was sucking on your neck and finger fucking you at the same time.”
His sexy words made me instantly horny. In the craziest move known to Delaney Reid, I took off Donovan’s towel and went straight to my knees. “You better pray your sister and brother-in-law stay asleep.”
Before Donovan knew what hit him, I took him all the way in my mouth. My initial thought was to suck only on the tip, but I was fueled with pure unadulterated lust.
“Shit!” He groaned and put both hands on my head. Not having a clue between correct and incorrect, I took him in and treated him like my favorite popsicle. “Fuck,” he whispered, “slow down.” I did as he begged. With this being new to me, I sucked slowly and methodically, making sure I wasn’t missing anything. “Shit, faster. Go faster.” This man was even bossy while getting a blow job. There were too many damn instructions.
Donovan’s face looked part pleasured, part pained, and with a sudden soft knock at our bedroom door, he cursed one last time and spilled into my not-ready-for-his-release mouth. My face crinkled into a this-is-freaking-gross look, but luckily, Donovan didn’t catch it. He quickly donned a robe and went to address whoever was at the door. I didn’t envy the person who had to contend with the ugly-fire-breathing-Donovan. While he took care of our visitor, I didn’t know what the hell to do with the stuff in my mouth. Was I to swallow it? (Eew!) Was it rude to spit it out in the sink or the toilet? Before this taste stayed on my tongue any longer, I spit it into the sink and brushed my teeth, again.
Breakfast was a lively affair, but anytime you had Ma and Pa at a table, it was lively and fun. Becky explained why she and Al slept in our room, and Donovan added all the missing drama.
“You act like you’re the youngest of the five. What is wrong with you?” Kelley scolded.
“I’m sorry. As much as I love this baby inside of me, I can’t wait for him or her to come out. I’m in so much pain all the time.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t have flown all the way out here,” Ma worried.
“The pain is the same no matter where I am.” Becky answered sheepishly and looked at Al. “I’m sorry for yelling at you. I know you’re working hard to provide for us.”
“What about us?” Donovan butted into their private moment so I pinched him wherever I could grab some extra skin.
“Laney, I’m very sorry for barging in at that hour. And thank you for allowing us to sleep in the living room. I heard my brother wanted to kick us out in the middle of the night but it was you who suggested we sleep on the pull-out.” Becky gave her brother a not very nice look.
“It wasn’t a big deal.”
“Donny, you and Laney want to...”
“Nope. We’re leaving after breakfast, Ma.”
“Where are you going?”
“Where you, Pa and anybody with the last names Taylor or Reid cannot find us.”
I could see the disappointment on Ma’s face. “Donovan. Can’t we stay for just...”
“Nope,” he cut me off. “Tickets are purchased. We leave in ninety minutes. The car will be here in forty-five.”
“Sorry,” I whispered to Ma and put my hand over hers. “Sorry, Pa.” I reached over and patted his hand as well.
“Laney, when are you two getting married?” Pa asked. “You two are getting married?” This time, his question came out strained and uncertain.
“I don’t know, Pa.”
“You don’t know when you’re getting married or whether or not you’re getting married?” He continued as the Taylor family spokesperson.
“Both. The answers lie with your son.”
“She speaks in riddles, Pa. I’ve told her repeatedly that we’re getting married, but she keeps thwarting me. She tells me I’m doing something wrong and I have no damn clue what it is that I’m doing wrong.”
“Don’t you want to marry our Donny? You told me you’ve been lusting after him since you were a little girl. Why you even asked him to marry you.”
“Pa!” Blood was thicker than water, no matter the situation. “You promised to keep my secret! I can’t believe you just blurted that out.”
“We’re family. There are no secrets.” Pa answered nonchalantly. “And you,” he turned to his son. “You big moron. Why didn’t you accept her proposal and be done with? You could have had a dozen kids by now.” Those mimosas were getting to Pa Taylor. Between the two big hickeys the family most likely noticed but was playing dumb about, and Pa’s revelation of me lusting after Donovan since birth, my angelic reputation was shot.
“Why are you such a brat to your family?” Donovan and I were seated comfortably on a train headed back to Florence. Donovan explained there were a couple of things he wanted me to experience, and since no one would be there to interrupt us, we decided to go back to Grandfather’s villa.
“They were driving me crazy. I moved my life to London so I could woo you, and they all follow me out here and disrupt my attempts to love you.”
“If I recall correctly, it was thanks to our parents that you got me out of London and away from Michael.”
“Smooth move, huh? That was all my idea.”
“What do you mean?”
“Jake told me about this conference in Amsterdam so I convinced your dad to do his seminar—actually, I begged him because I knew I needed the help getting you away from Michael. That’s when your mom and my parents offered to tag along and ‘help.’”
“You are so devious.”
“And you love me for it.” He kissed me briefly. “Speaking of devious, what the hell was my father talking about at the breakfast table? You were very lucky to have had that awkward conversation deflected on Becky and her I-think-I’m-having-a-contraction-but-it-was-only-gas-pains. I hope you’re not going to be such a pain in the ass when you’re pregnant with our baby.”
“And if I am?” I challenged.
Donovan shrugged like he could care less, but soon smiled. “I would love you no matter what.” That made me smile with him. “Now talk. When did you ask me to marry you? Was this recent?”
“No.” I answered without enthusiasm. I knew this conversation would not be to my benefit, and I had no idea how I was going to get out of it.
“Talk, Delaney Reid!” Now he was impatient.
“The summer I turned twelve,” I stopped and dug out my notes from his briefcase. “Read this.” I gave him my proposal note.
“Donovan, you me? If so, me at swing pm.” He had a blank look. “What the hell is it supposed to say?”
“Didn’t you read this eleven years ago when I put it in your pocket? It said, ‘Donovan, will you marry me? If so, meet me at my swing at 11:00pm.’”
This note, which was written with a red marker, had watermarks that bled through some of the words. Donovan kept looking at the note and I could see a whole lot of nothing going through his head.
“It’s bugging me that I don’t remember ever reading this note. I definitely would have remembered an offer of marriage had I read it. Why the hell do I not remember this one?”
“Maybe I’ll help jog your memory. One summer day right after my twelfth birthday, you and Jake came to his house and swam with us. I shoved this note in your pocket when you weren’t looking, then swam with you as you proceeded to tell me you were going off to law school in New York. If that wasn’t devastating enough for a twelve-year-old who had missed you when you stopped coming around, you nearly put me in my grave when you told me you were going to propose to Kate the same day I proposed to you.”
“Now I remember. I remember what happened that day and I have a perfectly good explanation why I never got this proposal. But I want to hear the rest of your story first. So what happened after I told you that I was go
ing to propose to Kate? And why the hell did I tell a twelve-year-old that I was going to propose to my girlfriend?”
“I asked you point-blank whether or not you were going to marry this woman. I caught you off guard and you answered me truthfully.”
“You always did have a way of throwing me off kilter—even as a young child.”
“You must’ve known I had the biggest crush on you when I was little, didn’t you?”
“Yeah I knew you had a crush on me, but so did the rest of your cousins. It was nothing new to have one of you Reid girls following me around trying to get my attention.” His cocky grin was one of his sexiest expressions.
“Cocky Bastard!” That earned me a spine-chilling kiss on the base of my neck again. I had all kinds of images of us from last night, once he started sucking on my neck. “Decorum, please.” I called out in a hoarse voice. “We’re not the only ones on the train, Donovan.” Now I was begging because Donovan refused to stop and I could feel his hand on my thigh. “Please,” I moaned and panted.
He placed one last chaste kiss on my neck and returned to that cocky grin. “So that night, Jake and I stopped by our fraternity party, and we weren’t there long, when some drunk bumped into me and spilled his beer on the front of my khaki pants. Not realizing you had placed a note in my pocket—a note written in red—I thought my dick or balls were bleeding because the front of my pants went red, everywhere. I kept looking for the cause of the blood. I kept trying to feel the pain but I couldn’t figure it out until I went to the bathroom and found your note.” He pulled out the note again. “And as you can see, beer had bled through the key words so I had no idea what this said.”
“While you were partying it up at the frat house, I went home and cried myself to sleep after you told me about proposing to Kate. Mom woke me up to tempt me down to dinner, but I stayed in my room until everyone had gone to bed. Right before 11:00pm, I snuck downstairs and waited for you on my swing. I cried a lot on my swing, you know.”
“You did?” He sweetly brought me to him.
“Whenever I was sad because of you, I sat on that swing, and something about that rocking motion helped me chase the blues away.”
“You may have been crying, but I was seriously worried about my posterity when I saw what I thought was blood, everywhere.”
We both laughed. Eleven years removed, that was quite funny.
“What did you do when you realized it wasn’t blood, but my silly letter?”
“I almost went to your house to tell you never to write to me in red, again.”
“So...” I contemplated whether I needed this bit of information in my life, but being the masochist that I was, I had to know. “What happened when you asked Kate to marry you? How did you propose?” Why was I such a glutton for punishment?
Donovan was a smart man. He carefully thought this over before opening his mouth.
“You sure you want to do this?”
“Yeah. I don’t know if I’ll ever understand you and Kate, but since we’re on the topic of proposals, I’d like to know.”
“With Kate being older and much wealthier than I, our relationship was always in her favor. I was her...”
“...boy toy...?”
Donovan busted up. “Yeah. For a lack of a better word, ‘boy toy.’ Her sophistication, her glamour, her power—those were all aphrodisiacs for a young man in his 20’s. She took me to Europe, introduced me to powerful lawyers, wined and dined me. In short, I was star-struck and Kate was very generous to me.”
“Before leaving for law school, I proposed to her, our last night together at the Montage, and she took my proposal and laughed at me. She said she had no thoughts of settling down, she had no desire to have kids, and she told me I needed to become somebody before she could consider marrying me.”
“Ouch.” I rubbed his arm, feeling his rejection.
“At the time it was an ouch, but after I went off to New York and recovered from the kick in the pants, I realized it was a good thing she didn’t accept. My parents didn’t like her. My sisters thought I was crazy for dating her. Jake liked her as a friend, but never thought she was the right one for me. And what put the nail on the coffin was the fact that she didn’t want kids. Coming from a family of five, I always knew I wanted a houseful of kids—and that was not for Kate. So in actuality, I was really only with Kate for less than two years.”
“Then where does this ten-year hashtag come from?”
“If she and I were anywhere in the near vicinity, we usually hooked up if we weren’t seeing other people.” He said this super fast but there was no misunderstanding what he meant.
“And...when did this hook up finally end?”
“After the Montage when you Reids surprised me with your presence at dinner. After I saw you at the office back in January, when you didn’t recognize me...”
“Oh, I knew who you were,” I corrected him.
“Were you fucking with my mind, even back then? You knew who I was but pretended you didn’t know me?” He had that flabbergasted look and his voice went up half an octave.
“Did you or did you not pretend not to know me at Jake and Emily’s wedding when you showed up with that bimbo?”
“I can’t ever win an argument with you.” He chuckled and gave me an open mouth kiss. “Do you know why I didn’t talk to you at Jake’s wedding?”
“Because you were busy ogling other women, Jane included?”
“Damn. You gonna bust my balls every time another woman is involved in our conversation?” He chuckled some more.
“Maybe...” I gave a non-committal answer.
“I ignored you because when I asked Jake about the blonde bombshell sitting at the family table, he informed me that it was the little girl I considered a fifth sister. I didn’t know which would kill me first, the heart attack or the boner coming on. You were breathtaking and all grown-up. I didn’t think I could go up and talk to you without stumbling over my words like an idiot.”
“You’re so full of shit. I don’t believe you.”
His eyes bugged-out at my accusation. “Why do you keep calling me a liar? I am wounded, Princess.”
“You never gave me a second look at the wedding. I kept hoping to catch your eye so I could go over and say hello, but you kept busy with everyone at the reception but me.”
“I swear, I did my utmost not to look at you because of the constant hard-on I had from ogling your body. Now you tell me why you pretended not to know me when we met again that winter morning.”
“I was still pissed that I had slept outside on the front porch for a man who never showed up to answer my proposal.”
“What do you mean you slept outside? Why would you do that?”
“Because, Mr. Taylor. I waited for you to either call and say you weren’t coming, or for you to come and tell me we were or were not getting married.” I spoke a little louder than necessary. “Then, I fell asleep on the swing and my family thought I got kidnapped in the middle of the night. Dad finally found me outside, and I almost got the scolding of my life until I explained that I was supposed to meet someone who never showed up!” I laughed at my own silliness. “I said those last few words with such conviction, Dad laughed at me. You know what I told him when he warned me never to sleep outside, ever again?”
“What, Princess?”
“I told him, ‘I won’t ever do this again because no one is ever coming for me.’ I was such a melodramatic child, huh? I hope I don’t have a daughter just like me.” I groaned.
“I can’t wait to fill our home with a gaggle of girls just like you. Although, they may put me into an early grave, huh?” He now turned serious on me. “I came back for you. I love you. And I want to start a life with you. Why don’t you want to marry me?”
“You still don’t get it?” I was disappointed that he continually demanded a marriage rather than proposing one.
“No. Will you clue me in one of these d
ays?”
“Perhaps you should check your pockets, daily, for a note written in red?”
“Smart ass!” He laughed and kissed me again.
After dropping off our suitcases at the villa, our driver took us north to Bologna. Donovan gave me no clue what we were doing, except for telling me that I would love what we were about to experience.
He blindfolded me as we got close to our destination and carefully led me into a noisy machine-filled room.
“Enjoy, Princess. This afternoon is for you...” The blindfold came off and once my vision came back to 20/20, I observed my surroundings and found myself at the Ducati factory. I let out a small squeal, and followed the tour guide as she led us through the entire factory. We were actually in the production line watching factory workers assemble these gorgeous motorcycles. Interspersed with the tour was the history of Ducati and what made these bikes so special. After the tour, we went through the museum and I read every bit of information given, as well as drooled over all original, priceless, and soon-to-be released bikes.
“I love this. Thank you.” I kissed my boyfriend in appreciation.
“What will you offer me if I offer you a test drive on the bike of your choice?”
“My virginity?” I giggled.
His smile was bright and WIDE. “If you’re done here, get back in the car.”
The driver led us to a test track near the Ferrari museum, and we were offered not only a chance to ride the Ducati motorcycles, but also to test drive Ferraris and Lamborghinis. Oh. My. Gaawwdd! What a thrill.
We picked different motorcycles, got brief instructions, put on our helmets, and were given free rein to ride the bikes around the track. Contrary to what was visible to the eye, the “track” was not what I considered a test track—going round and round in circles. We rode through the streets of Emilia Romagna, overlooking the mountains nearby Modena. The wind through my hair recharged the high I had been on since Donovan professed his love for me. What was supposed to be a ten-minute ride ended up being half an hour as our guide was cool enough to take us through streets not normally used for test drives. When we were done with the bikes, Donovan hopped into a Ferrari, I got into a Lamborghini and we went a different route from our bike route. I loved fast cars, but nothing felt as good as a fast bike.
