Pink Fucking Moscato

by Anna Rezes

  “Do I need to carry you like a kid?”

  “Yes,” she mumbled.

  I smirked, saying, “you asked for it.”

  I grabbed her purse before going out my side and rounding to hers. I had every intention of throwing her over my shoulder, but when I opened the passenger door, her eyes stayed closed while her arms opened up, trusting me to scoop her into my arms.

  My heart skipped over itself, and I forgot how to breathe. Her sleepy eyes cracked open, and she wore an intimate smile. There was nothing sexual about it, but it hit me in the chest, and my whole body reacted to her. I lifted her from the seat, cradling her body against mine while her arms wrapped around my neck and her face burrowed against my shoulder. I shut her door and readjust her when we near the building to make sure her dress is covering her ass. As we enter the lobby, she whispered, “Some days, I wonder if I’ll love again, but you, you make it hard not to fall in love with you.”

  I pretended not to hear her because I didn’t know if she meant what she was saying, and I didn’t know how to respond. I didn’t want to fall for her. The emotions we built our friendship on were ugly, and I didn’t want to associate the ugly with her. I didn’t want to compare everything she did to Addison. I needed an Addison cleansing before I could ever be with Willa, and she would need something too, maybe some counseling.

  It didn’t mean I didn’t love her. I just couldn’t let myself love her the way I wanted to.

  We rode the elevator up, and I stopped at her door. “I need to get the key, Willa.”

  She pulled it out of her bra, and her dress fell sideways giving me a peek at her pretty lacy bra. She scanned the card, the lock clicked, and I carried her to her bed, covering her with the fluffy white comforter. She moaned and cuddled up to her pillow. I kissed her forehead, whispering, “Goodnight, Willa. Wake me in the morning so we can do our laundry.”

  She didn’t respond, so I made a mental note to check on her in the morning. I turned off her light before leaving.

  I couldn’t sleep. I was too wound-up. I entered my room and paced back and forth a few times before I decided to go get the bags from the car. I would have the laundry service clean them. That way, I wouldn’t ruin my surprise.

  I grabbed both bags from the truck and peeked in the one I bought for Willa. It’s probably a good idea to have them clean hers anyway because I didn’t want to ruin the feathers and sequins that hung from the short gold dress.

  Willa

  The sun gleamed through the sheer curtains. At first, I thought I must not have closed the blinds, but then I realized there were no blinds and the sun was on the wrong side. Wait, no. I was on the wrong side of the bed. No, again. I no longer had a side of the bed, and this was not my bed, anyway. I looked around the room; my mind slow to catch up. Hotel. I was at a hotel. My heart was racing all because I couldn’t remember where I was.

  I looked at the clock. Seven-seventeen.

  The sun didn’t wake me, my bladder did, and now that I knew where I was, I got out of bed and rushed to the bathroom.

  My eyes were puffy, and my head hurt. The previous night came back to me, and I remembered everything I had said and done yesterday. But I didn’t remember getting in bed. I remembered falling asleep in the truck and then . . .

  “Damn it!” I told Oliver to carry me up to my room. He should have objected. I wasn’t even drunk. I wish I were, at least that would give me an excuse for my behavior. I remember being in his arms and feeling safe and loved. It was crazy.

  I wondered when we were going to the winery, and then I remembered the thrift store clothes. I looked around the room but didn’t see them. I’d have to see if Oliver brought them up from the car. He probably peeked at his outfit. I hope he didn’t. I couldn’t wait for his reaction.

  I got into my travel stash of medication, so I could try to get rid of my nagging headache. I still had sand on my legs which meant there was probably sand in my bed. That’s okay, I would sleep on the other side.

  I showered and slipped into a pair of lounge shorts and a t-shirt. I threw my wet hair on top of my head, slipped into flip flops, and slipped the room key into my pocket before leaving my room. I thought about knocking on Oliver’s door but didn’t want to wake him if he was still sleeping.

  I rode down on the elevator with tired strangers, but we all seemed to have the same goal. Breakfast. While they went to pile their plates, I stopped for the necessities. The hotel’s coffee wasn’t top of the line, but I wasn’t picky.

  I took a sip and almost moaned, needing the morning pick me up.

  “Enjoying your roasted bean water?” Oliver’s voice startled me from behind, and I spun to face him. He was trying not to laugh at me.

  “Did you just call this bean water?”

  “Roasted bean water. And yes, that’s what it is.”

  “Yeah, but that makes it sound gross.”

  “It is gross.”

  “What are you drinking?” I asked, pointing to the cup in his hand.

  “Green tea.”

  I made a face of disgust. “You’re drinking hot leaf water. And you think coffee tastes bad. Green tea is the grossest tea.”

  “It’s better for you than coffee.”

  “I don’t care. It tastes like leaves.”

  “And beans are better?” he asked with a smirk.

  “Leave my roasted bean water alone.” I laughed. “Have you already eaten?”

  “No, I got down here just before you did. I dropped our thrift store clothes off at the front desk to get cleaned. I explained to them that I was not allowed to see what was in the one bag and asked for them to wait until I left to pull it out.”

  “You’re lying?” I accused.

  “Scout’s honor,” he said, holding up the correct fingers.

  “Were you actually a boy scout?”

  “I was,” he said.

  “Okay, boy scout, why didn’t you peek?”

  “Because it’s supposed to be a surprise and I wouldn’t have wanted you to peek at yours.”

  “Fair enough,” I said, grabbing a plate and going through the buffet of food.

  We sat at a table on the outskirts of the lounge area, and I said, “Sorry for unloading my story on you yesterday and then crying and screaming like a lunatic.”

  “I think what you did yesterday was brave and cathartic. I like that you’re real with me. I can’t imagine you doing that with just anyone. I’m honored.”

  His answer made me appreciate him even more. I took a bite of my food, feeling all warm inside.

  “Besides,” he added, “I was screaming and telling sad stories too.”

  “I made you carry me to bed,” I moaned, apologetically.

  “You were too fucking cute. I couldn’t say no to you. You’re sweet when you’re sleeping, even though you drooled all over my jacket.”

  “That sounds accurate,” I said. “I would apologize, but I get scolded when I try.”

  He smiled, and between bites, he asked, “What time do you want to go to the winery? They have a restaurant and a live band in the afternoon. They open at ten, but I don’t think the hotel will have our clothes ready until noon.”

  “I’m fine playing it by ear. Do you want to go swim in the meantime?”

  “Didn’t you just take a shower?” He reaches over to touch the hair knotted on my head.

  “Yeah. I still had sand on me, and I never actually had a proper shower since our food fight. I felt gross, but I can shower again. It’s no big deal.”

  He opens his mouth to speak, but I beat him to it. “Addison would never be okay with that.”

  He laughs. “That’s not what I was going to say, but it’s close enough.”

  “Are you sure everyone loves Addison? It sounds like she’s got a stick up her butt.”

  “I don’t want to talk about Addison today. Can we do that? Can we just stay in the present today? No talking about exes or what’s going to happen in the future. Let’s just live today to t
he fullest.”

  I smiled. “I love that idea!” I stood up, grabbing our empty plates. I dropped them off and got a refill of coffee in my to-go cup.

  Oliver waited for me by the bank of elevators, and we rode up together. “I have to call my mom and see how Bella is doing. I meant to do that last night.”

  “Are we going to the pool?”

  “If you want,” I said, stepping off the elevator.

  “I’m always down for a swim.”

  I pulled my keycard out before we got to our rooms and Oliver said, “I’ll leave my door cracked. Just come over when you’re ready to go down.”

  “Okay, see you soon,” I said, entering my room.

  Fuckity fuck fuck. I wasn’t thinking clearly. I wasn’t thinking at all. Oliver without his shirt on is trouble, but Oliver rubbing up against me while shirtless and wet is dangerous. We were trying to keep things platonic, but the problem is, we had already crossed a line, and now we were trying to uncross it. It was like putting the toothpaste back in the tube or whipped cream back in the can. It couldn’t be done. At least not easily.

  I already knew what his tongue felt like in my mouth and what his body felt like against my own. I’d already seen him naked. I knew what he was packing, and I really wanted to unpack it.

  I hadn’t flirted with anyone in years. I didn’t even think I knew how, but I was flirting with disaster, and his name was Oliver.

  We were in the outdoor pool, and it was relatively empty because it was still early. We had raced a few laps, and he had beat me every time except once when he let me win. We learned that my underwater handstands were better than his, but his cannonballs were bigger than mine.

  Those were all hands-off activities, but now he was trying to lift my feet so I could jump from his hands. There was body contact. I craved it and judging by the way his touch lingered and strayed; I think he wanted it too. So, there we were, daredevils flirting with one another like adolescent teens.

  I held his shoulders for balance as he lowered his hands underwater. I lifted my feet into his palms and balanced against him until I felt steady. Then he started lifting me out of the water.

  I was almost all the way up when my foot slipped. He tried to cushion my fall, but his hand ended up between my legs with nothing but my swimsuit between my most delicate parts and his fingers.

  It was an accident, but I didn’t want it to be. He pulled his hand away, and his arms wrapped around me as we laughed together. My hands were on his shoulders, and as much as we tried to laugh it off, I saw the hunger in his expression and felt the stiffy in his shorts.

  I wanted to shout danger or push away, but I wanted him more.

  “We’re living in the moment, right?” I asked.

  His eyes lit up, and he nodded. I grabbed his face and kissed him. He kissed back, but I pulled away quickly, saying, “Do you want to see my room?”

  “Fuck, yeah.”

  I smiled and pushed away from him, feeling like a tease, but kids were swimming fifteen feet away. We couldn’t do any of the things I wanted there in the pool.

  I climbed the ladder and ran for my things. Then turned back, wondering how Oliver would hide what was happening in his shorts. He got out of the pool, and I was slightly disappointed that his swim trunks weren’t tented. I didn’t bother with my cover-up. I just wrapped the towel around me, tossed Oliver his, grabbed our things, and headed for the door.

  He followed, grabbing my hand on our way to the elevator. It took a minute for the doors to open. Oliver put me slightly in front of him and pulled our interlaced hands to his shorts.

  I felt the bulge as he whispered in my ear. “I saw you looking. Don’t worry. It’s there.”

  I looked over my shoulder, saying, “How did you hide that?”

  He grinned a cocky grin and shrugged. “Skill.”

  The doors opened. I tugged him forward, slammed my hand on the three, and frantically tapped at the button to close the doors. When they finally began to close, I spun to face Oliver. He was on me immediately, but not in the way I expected. Instead of kissing my mouth, he pulled my towel down, moved one of the triangles that made up my bikini top to the side, bent down and his mouth closed around my nipple.

  I gasped, and my hands grabbed the back of his head while I squeezed my legs together. I wasn’t going to make it. Every swipe of his tongue added heat to the fire burning inside me. It was spreading. I could feel the heat in my cheeks. Pleasure cascaded through me.

  Then the elevator dinged, and Oliver stood, pulling the triangle back over just before the doors opened. I could hardly catch my breath. I was sure my face was pink, and Oliver’s grin was full of mischief.

  As an explanation, he said, “Your nipples have been driving me crazy for the last hour.”

  “So, you could see my hard nipples?” I breathed, and his smile grew. “I am so going to write a review for this suit when I get home.”

  He led me down the hall. And I said, “Do you think they have cameras in those elevators?”

  “If they do, someone just got a show.” In the next breath, he said, “Your room or mine?”

  “Your room. I have sand in my bed.”

  He unlocked his door and threw it open, pulling me inside. I stumbled in, and the first thing I saw were the clothes hanging in the open closet by the door. The garments were covered in clear plastic bags with dry cleaning slips attached.

  I gasped. “Oliver is that for me?”

  He turned toward the gold dress glittering with sequins and iridescent bronzed feathers. It would be pretty if it weren’t so . . . much. It was over the top, ridiculous.

  Oliver’s navy and white striped outfit hung beside it. Bright yellow embroidered pineapples stood out against the pinstripes.

  Oliver pulled it out with a look of confusion. “What is this?”

  “It’s a romper,” I answered, excited to see it on him.

  “I thought those were for girls.”

  “They make them for both. This is a male romper. It gives extra room for your bits. And look,” I pulled it out, showing him the side. “It has pockets!”

  He gives me a girlish squeal, “Pockets! Pockets make everything better. Why do all girls obsess over pockets?”

  “You don’t understand because you’re a guy and guys always have pockets but imagine wearing this,” I motioned to the romper, “and not having a single pocket. That’s how dresses and skirts used to be. Not to mention the pockets in some of our jeans are too small to use for anything bigger than Chapstick, so having pockets is a win!”

  “It’s a giant step towards equality,” he joked.

  “Shut up,” I slapped him playfully, and he caught my hand, pulling me further into the room. He unwrapped my towel and pushed me back to sit on the side of the bed.

  Kneeling in front of me, he said, “We’re still living in the moment, right?”

  “All day,” I said.

  “Great.” His eyes dropped to my chest. “This bathing suit has been torturing me since the first time I saw you in it.”

  His arms reached around me to free the ties behind my back. Then his fingers trailed up to unfasten the knot at my neck. The fabric loosened, and he tossed my bikini across the room. He was still shirtless, so when he leaned in, his skin grazed mine. His mouth met the curve of my neck, and his breath sent a shiver through me. I tilted my head, giving him better access.

  He reclined me back, his body on mine, and his mouth strayed, trailing down my collarbone and then to my chest where he stayed for a while. His teeth teased my nipples, and my body undulated against the blissful torture. My hands grabbed at him, sliding down his skin, trying to reach his shorts, but he pulled his hips away. His hands caressed my skin, and he untied the strings at my hips. I felt like I should object, but I wanted him to keep going.

  He looked up at me. “If you don’t like something, tell me.”

  “I don’t like that I can’t touch you,” I complained, reaching towards his shorts.

/>   “Not yet,” he said. “I want to see how worked up I can get you.”

  “I’m pretty worked up.”

  He shifted his body, so he was lying on his side next to me. He propped himself with an arm, and his head dipped to press his lips to mine. As we kissed, his hand grazed up my thigh and slid between my legs. He barely touched me, and I jumped.

  I felt I should be a little more self-conscious, but when he pulled back to look at me, I felt beautiful. When he touched me, I felt desired, so when his fingers ran down my seam, I pushed into him with a moan. He already had me so wound up, like a spring ready to snap and I realized his soft sporadic touches were just to tease me. I needed relief. I needed him.

  “Oliver,” I begged, and his fingers dipped inside.

  “Fuck,” I heard him groan against my mouth.

  I was practically dripping for him, and he spread the moisture and found the spot that made me lose all sense.

  “Oliver, it’s . . . I’m . . .” I moved against him, writhing.

  I arched my back as his teeth nipped at my nipples and his pace quickened. He added another finger, sliding it inside me, finding just the right position, and the blissful torture continued until my body shook, and my world spun. I cried out and moaned some gibberish, unable to form coherent words or thoughts.

  I don’t remember closing my eyes, but when I opened them, Oliver was leaning over me, watching me come back down.

  “Oliver,” I panted, worn out even though I didn’t do any of the work.

  He tilted my face towards him and kissed me. I held his face, never wanting to let go. I wanted to breathe his same air forever.

  Addison was a fucking fool. I was supposed to stay in the moment, but I couldn’t help the thoughts. Evan never provoked even a tenth of the pleasure I just experienced at the hands of Oliver. But it didn’t quench my thirst. It only made me feel more dehydrated. I realized how dry my life had been, and now that I had a taste of his sweet water, I wanted the whole glass.

  I pushed him over onto his back and rolled, so I was leaning over him, our roles reversed, but he protested when I reached for his shorts.