by Alexa Hart
When I am done with the task, I pause for a moment, instinctively, to hug him. To feel his warm, soft skin bare against my own. There is something so vulnerable about it. Natural, even. Fitz’s hands reach up to tangle in my hair, playing with the chocolate colored tresses until I am moaning at the intimate sensations.
Pulling back, we both climb into the water, sighing in unison at the blissful combination of heat and bath product. I lean back into him, allowing his hands to roam wherever they please, drifting my eyes shut as we talk. Chatting about our days. I am completely and utterly elated.
His fingers start at my hips, kneading the soft flesh there. When they are done, they move upward, to my arms, then my shoulders, and my neck, working out the knots as the moved, earning low, sensual moans from deep in my chest. Sitting up, I lean forward in the tub in order to grant him access as his fingers work their magic. They are digging in painfully deep; it is delicious. Then, they do something I do not expect. Drifting lightly down my body, his strong hands pull me back into his chest in a comforting embrace. His mouth connecting with the skin of my neck, planting tracks of soft, open mouthed kisses. He is whispering sweet nothings against my skin, but I am far too enthralled to actually be listening. I’ve never been intimate in a bath before, but the thought ignites my heartrate, thrilling me.
“Why are you so good to me?” I turn, surprising both of us and taking the bath poof from his hand to run it along the curved muscles lining his chest.
He pauses for a moment, whether it is to think or to react to the question, I don’t know. After a few seconds, Fitz opens his mouth to speak, giving a generic response.
“You deserve good.”
“You don’t know that, though. I could be a serial killer for all you know, or a bank robber. You don't know.” I give a small chuckle at the end, to lighten the tone of the conversation, but when I meet his eyes there is a knowing look in them.
“I do know.” He sounds so sure of his declaration, that I don’t bother pressing the subject. Instead, I simply lean up to kiss him. Deep inside of me, my heart yearns, wanting desperately to be the person he thinks I am, Alex Bennet. But underneath all that is on the outside, I can’t ignore the me that is on the inside. Or the pressing desire to also be her. I wonder if Fitz would feel this way about Emily, too?
I can tell he loves me, though he hasn’t said yet. Well, not really. He hasn’t declared it yet, but Fitz talks in his sleep. It’s okay. I love him too.
I want to know if he’ll love me entirely, but to find out I’d have to risk shattering the pedestal upon which he’s placed me, so for now, I’ll leave the issue alone.
Fitz welcomed my kiss, deepening it and pulling me onto his lap earning a generous splash around us as a wave of soapy water goes crashing to the marble floor of his bathroom. My body is entirely out of the water now as Fitz leans back against the wall of the tub, allowing me to feel him from my position straddling him. My skin breaks out in noticeable goosebumps from the stark temperature contrast, and I know our embrace won’t proceed any further unless I initiate it. Fitz, always the gentleman. Tangling my hands in his hair, I pull him back slightly, disconnecting our feverish embrace to suggest a change of scenery. Fitz flashes me a bright smile, planting one more peck on my lips before complying with the request.
We are barely out of the water before his lips attack mine, backing me into the closest wall and pinning my hands above my head. He is a damn good kisser. I pull my wrists from his grasp to entangle them in his hair and he lifts my legs around his waist.
“Bed.” I mumble against his mouth when we reach the doorway between the bedroom and the bathroom. He turns our bodies, slamming my back against the wall just next to the door. My hands fumble in his hair, pulling him towards me, leading us further into the room.
We collapse onto the bed in a frantic heap of wet towels and slippery bodies. Fitz tosses our towels to the ground, crawling on top of me to hover just inches above my lips, grinning. His hand entangles in my hair, pulling ever so slightly, so that I am forced to keep eye contact. My back arches off the bed enough for his free arm to reach around and grip my waist, lifting me to pull us further onto the bed.
I catch his lips as he slides his hands down my body. God, I need this. His fingertips brush over the entrance to my core, and I have to stop my movements to admire him. He is every bit as beautiful as the day I met him. Hard, flat, perfectly sculpted muscle. I feel him smirking above me as I greedily admire him. I flip us over and straddle his waist, leaning down to catch him in an unexpected kiss. Fitz isn’t fazed by the sudden change of position. Instead he takes advantage, reaching up to cup my breast as his tongue works my own.
“Beautiful,” he mumbles so low into my mouth that I am almost unsure I heard the word.
Fitz’s free hand is at my core, his fingers running along my slit now, teasing me.
“Fitz, please.” I breathe into him. Though I am on top, I know he is in control here.
Fitz chuckles into my lips, chastising me for being so impatient, but he gives me what I want. Reaching down, he positions himself at my entrance, swiping his head along me, coating himself in me.
“Fitz!” I reprimand him. No, I beg him. Damn it. It was somewhere in between.
Sporting a triumphant smirk, Fitz enters me, gripping my hips so that he, and he alone, can control how much of him I am allowed to have. At first, his thrusts are shallow, teasing. Giving me just enough to elicit soft moans from my lips, but not enough for me to reach my release. Within minutes, I am squirming, struggling. Begging for him to take me for real.
“What do you want, beautiful?” Fitz asks me. This is new. Over the past couple of weeks, he has been coaching me to be better at dirty talking. Now, when he fucks me, he waits for me to explicitly say what I want before he’ll allow me to have it.
“You, Fitz. Please.” I beg him, breathless, trying to wriggle out of his iron tight grip to gain some control over my movements. But Fitz is too strong.
“Uh uh, sweetheart. You have to say it.”
I growl at him, my pride leaving me as I am filled with nothing but pure, raging desire.
“Fuck me Fitz, please. Don’t tease me anymore. Fuck me for real.” I give him what he wants, earning a proud smile across his full, talented lips. Fitz rewards me for my obedience, his grip on my hips tightening as he slams me down onto him, filling me to the brink with himself. It is exquisite. I am sure that my eyes rolled into the back of my head, if even for a split second.
But to my horror, once he is buried deep inside of me, Fitz stops moving. I try to ride him, to rise on my knees, and pull him out of me, but his grip on my waist is impenetrable. He holds me in place, patiently waiting.
“Fitz! No, please.” My whine comes out breathy and desperate, and if it were directed at anyone else, I would feel impossibly ashamed. Right now, though, in this moment, all I feel is need.
“Please what, beautiful?” He asks me, a slightly devilish smirk on his beautiful features.
“Please fuck me.” My eyes meet his, hooded and desperate, then begin to well with unsatisfied tears.
“Don’t cry baby.” Fitz reaches up, wiping a stray tear from the corner of my eye. “Just breath, adjust to me. Ask me for what you want, and I’ll give it to you.” I moan at his sensual orders, still at a loss for words.
“I want you to fuck me.” I repeat the phrase.
“I am fucking you, you have to be more explicit than that beautiful.” Fitz grins. I silently curse him. I know this is part of our game, and I have a safe word if I want to use it, but I don’t want a safe word right now. Right now, all I want is to ride Fitz’s cock until I see stars.
“You can whisper it baby, don't worry. I’ll hear you.”
I groan, resigned to either play Fitz’s game and suffer a few moments of discomfort, or not play, and have him pull out of me and leave me unsatisfied for the rest of the night. The answer here is pretty obvious.
“I want you to fuck me hard,
and fast.”
Fitz passes me a proud smile, like I’ve just aced some imaginary test.
“Like this, baby?” Fitz asks, cutting off my answer with an impossibly hard thrust. It is deep, and intense.
Fitz continues thrusting like this, filling me completely before pulling out, and slamming into me once more. Within moments, I am ready to come apart around him.
“Fitz…” I breath, my orgasm lingering just on the brink. I just need a few more good thrusts. Fitz must sense this, though, because he slows.
“No! Stop! What are you doing?” I wriggle on top of him, trying to regain some of the lost friction.
“You don’t get to come until I say you do, beautiful. You know the rules.”
Tears well over my bottom lashes, pouring down my cheeks. They aren’t tears of pain, or of anger, but rather they are tears of frustration.
“What do you want?” I ask him manically, willing him to tell me whatever it is I have to do to earn my orgasm.
“I want you to talk dirty to me, beautiful. No holds barred. Be comfortable with me.”
I sigh, more from unfulfilled needs than anything else.
“Fitz, please. Fuck me. Hard and deep and fast and make me come around your cock. Please, I want to scream your name. Please Fitz, please.”
I abandon all of my dignity to give him what he wants and, my God, it is worth it. Fitz grips my hips, flipping us so that he is on top of me now. I hook my legs around his waist, trying desperately to hold him inside me as he sets a punishing pace. His thrusts are fast and deep, grinding into me as his skin brushes the sensitive bud of my clit. Before long, I am screaming into the nape of his neck.
“Fitz please, can I come? Oh please, can I come?” I beg him, repeating my sentence over and over though I have already begun to tighten around him.
“One more moment, beautiful. Hold it.”
Tears flow freely from my eyes now, dripping into the junction between his neck and his shoulders.
“Now!” Fitz tells me.
Screaming his name, I come undone around him as my pussy clenches him, trying to keep him inside of me forever. Fitz doesn’t take long to fall apart after that, pulling me into a feverish kiss, moaning into my lungs as he fills me.
Pulling out of me, Fitz gives me an order I never would have expected.
“Clean me off,” he tells me, lying on his back, his still erect penis floating in the air, slick with both of our essences. I don’t even hesitate. Instead, I inch down until my face is level with him, and I take him into my mouth. He tastes like the perfect combination of salty and sweet. It doesn't take long before Fitz’s grip is tangled in my hair, and there are low moans escaping his lips. With one last loud, pained moan, Fitz releases for the second time of the night, filling my mouth with the salty evidence of his pleasure. His hands tangle in my hair, pulling with each moan I elicit from his soft mouth.
It is only when we are both spent, that Fitz pulls out of me, planting a soft kiss on my forehead. Most of our nights these days are spent like this. We give ourselves to each other, then I drift to sleep in his arms, sated and safe.
Chapter 15
Alex
I awaken to the thick hot feel of sunlight streaming through the window, bathing me in warmth. Fitz is wrapped securely around me, his head resting on my shoulder, peacefully asleep. If Fitz was a cat, I’m sure he’d be snoring.
Slowly, I sneak out from beneath his iron grip, making my way towards the bathroom for some much needed relief, then towards the kitchen, for some much needed coffee. Decaf coffee. I grip my stomach, yesterday’s anxieties reaching me. I’d planned to make Fitz breakfast in bed today, to talk to him. I’ve been feeling it for weeks, the strange but familiar feeling. They say a woman will usually just know, and I did. If that wasn’t confirmation enough, though, I haven’t gotten my period since our trip to the city, the first night we spent together.
To my surprise, I run into Winnie in the kitchen. I rarely see her on weekends.
“Oh, good morning Alex.” She seems startled to see me. I tighten the sash of my robe, slightly embarrassed to be caught in such little clothing.
“Good morning Winnie.” I respond, handing her the cream from the fridge as she retrieves her mug from the machine. She takes it graciously, switching spots with me so that I can brew my own cup.
“By the way, while I have you here, did you ever retrieve that package you got just before yours and Mr. Simmons’ trip to the city? I know you haven’t been in your suite much.” Both mine and Winnie’s cheeks go slightly red at her mention of the fact that I’ve basically moved into Fitz’s suite. To be honest, I hadn’t even thought about it.
“No, I haven’t. It must have slipped my mind. I’ll get to it today.” I tell her, pouring a generous serving of the cream into my own cup, then making one for Fitz.
“I’ll have someone bring it by.” Winnie smiles at me, before disappearing through the kitchen door, leaving me alone.
“Hm, that smells delicious. Is that for me?” Motioning towards the second cup in my hand, Fitz flashes me a lazy smile. He plants a kiss on my head, thanking me. I’ve always thought that I look messy in the morning, but I am nothing compared to Fitz. His hair is tangled, pointing every which way, and his shirt hangs uneven around his neck, exposing a generous serving of his tantalizing collar bone.
“Good morning, sleepy head.” I nudge at him, referring to his literal bedhead. Fitz chuckles, taking a sip of the sweet liquid.
“I have some work to get done really quickly, but then I thought we could spend the day together, reorganizing our closet to fit both of our things?” I smile at the mundane gesture of affection.
There was a time where, if the man I loved had suggested spending the day together cleaning, making things easier for me, I might have dropped dead of a heart attack. With Fitz, though, it is so easy. Blissful. He is a kind man.
I nod at him, “sounds like fun, baby. I’ll see you in a bit?”
He plants one more kiss along my lips. Closed mouthed, sweet, like a habit, before setting off for his office. I figure, if he’s going to get some work done, I might as well follow suit. I grab my coffee, headed to his bedroom to fetch my laptop to carve out some new lesson plans for Ella.
“Oh, Alex. You’re here, good.” John greets me as I walk into Fitz’s suite. Our suite. He is setting the long-forgotten package on the coffee table at the far end of the room. “I brought this for you.”
“Thank you John, honestly, I forgot about it. It’s just some art supplies for Ella.”
“It isn’t a problem. Please, don’t mention it.”
I grip the box, tearing open the poorly applied packing tape, fully expecting to find canvases and some paints inside. Instead, inside sits a smaller, shiny red box. It is long, and narrow.
I glance up at John, looking for some explanation as to what it could be, but his face is sporting just as confused an expression as mine is.
As I pull the lid off of the shiny red box, an old feeling strikes in my chest. It is cold and unforgiving, the kind of dread that stops your heart, and ignites your brain at the same time. And though it’s been years since I’ve had cause to feel it, the ice fills me and familiarly as it did six years ago. He found me. The singular, terrifying thought resounds in my brain, spreading like a plague through each atom of my body, chilling as it goes. Nausea dulls my senses as the world spins around me. I am vaguely aware of hands on my body. Whose hands? Am I on the floor?
He found me, the bitter though repeats itself against my wishes. My husband has found me, and he’s going to kill me.
“What the hell is this?” The warm voice fills the room with white hot rage. It’s familiar, washing over me, dulling the chill. Fitz?
My eyes search for him from my spot on the floor. How did I get to the floor? When I find him, his figure is blurred by the tears that brim against my waterline. When had I started to cry?
Fitz glanced back and forth from John, to the box, to me,
before doing a double take, noticing the small diamond ring nestled in the middle of the dead flowers that fill the box. His suspended lips close, pressing into a thin straight line as he tries to make sense of what he is seeing. The dead silence of the room makes my thoughts deafening. My body feels frozen under the pressure, like I’ve just taken Atlas’ place holding up the world. My lips tremble, unsure of what to worry about first – the very real threat sitting in front of me, or the threat of how Fitz will react to the news that I’ve lied to him. So, so many times. I am frozen, sitting on the ground at his feet. Fitz is never speechless. He is always in control, and he always knows exactly what to do next.
Shaking some thought from his head, he regains himself, apparently. Fitz’s muscles come alive as he moves, half running half walking towards me before collapsing to the ground along with me. His strong, forever black-clad arms wrap thickly around my body, warming the cold that’s settled deep inside me. Pulling away, Fitz grasps my face in his cold hands, his grip impossibly strong, no doubt staining my cheeks a bright, cherry red beneath his muscled hands.
Without a trace of hesitation, Fitz swoops down, suffocating me with a kiss so bruising and urgent, I thought he might die if I denied him. Pulling me impossibly close to him, Fitz and I are both kneeling now, on the floor of his bedroom. I don’t know if John is still here or not, and I don’t care.
I struggle in his arms, trying to get impossibly closer to him, wishing he could engulf me entirely in his warmth, shielding me from the outside world, and the demons that live there, waiting to devour me.
Fitz comes up for air, his grip on me loosening as reality slowly starts to seep back in, and my eyes fill with tears once more.
