“I do, sir. Just as I love you.”
“Know that if there’s anything I can do to keep you safe, I’ll give my life to do so.”
“I know, sir. And I love you for it.” A tiny gasp escapes her lips before she says, “Oh, god, sir, I’m gonna come.”
“Come for me, babe. Come around me. I’m ready.” And I am. Every fiber in my being is ready to give everything I have to her, to feed her body like she feeds my soul. When she tightens around me, I only have to offer two more thrusts before I turn loose, and when I do, I know she can feel the heat and wetness.
Spent, I drop on top of her, my arms wrapping around her and crossing behind her. My lips find the side of her neck and I kiss that soft little spot under her ear. “I love you, Cirilla Gates. I love you more than you can ever know.”
“I love you too, Brian Zimmer. You’re my whole world now.” Her lips brush my ear and kiss it gently. “Don’t think I’m not working on this thing, because I am. I’m going to find a way to fix it all, and then there’ll be nothing between us and the life we want. I promise, Brian. I promise you that.”
And I believe her.
* * *
The rest of the weekend is amazing. We spend all day Friday in bed―all damn day. Part of the time, we’re playing. For me, there’s nothing more exciting than a hogtied woman being teased to distraction. I had to run housekeeping off twice before they got the picture that we didn’t want to be disturbed. It appears the little sign on the doorknob isn’t enough. I don’t know how to make them understand that if they open that door, they’re not going to like what they see. Me, I think it’s delicious, watching her writhe as I torture her over and over without letting her come. And fucking her to oblivion while she’s bound and helpless is enough to keep me hard all day.
But that’s not what I do. After I’ve had my fun―and I’m pretty sure she’s had hers too―we make love for the rest of the day and into the evening. I don’t even think about food until about six o’clock, and then we just order from the restaurant and pay them to deliver it to the room. Yes, I open the door for them. I’m not sure what they think the rope lying in the floor was about, and I really don’t care.
Fucking like that is exhausting. When we’ve finished dinner, we lie there in the bed, her in my arms, her cheek resting on my chest. It’s so sweet and calm, and I could just stay here with her forever. Her fingers dawdle in the hair on my chest and she asks, “What are we going to do tomorrow?”
I snort. “You don’t want a replay of today?”
“I mean, that would be okay, but I’d really like to go out and look around a bit. I’ve never been here and I’m guessing it’s beautiful, but I can’t see it from inside this room.” She’s got a point.
“Okay. Any ideas where you’d like to go?”
“I definitely want to see the mountain. And maybe go to an antique store? I love poking around in those things.”
“I know what I like to poke around in,” I say with a snarl and nip her earlobe.
“Be serious, Brian. I’d like for our relationship to be more than one-dimensional.”
“It is. It’s two-dimensional. I’m your boss and your Dominant.”
That gets a huff. “You know exactly what I mean. So could we? Maybe?”
“Nope. No maybe. I’ll take you. If you want to go to antique stores, we’ll find some antique stores. No problem.” I’ll ask the desk clerk tomorrow morning and I’m sure they can point me in the right direction.
“Good. I want to do something fun.” Then she falls silent, and I know what she’s thinking.
She’s wondering if some guy is going to be following her around while we’re here, and I can’t tell her it won’t happen. I don’t know what it will take to get her to tell me everything, but I’m hoping at some point she will. Even if she doesn’t, it won’t change anything. I stroke her cheek with my thumb and whisper, “Babe?”
“Yeah?”
“I love you.”
She cuddles closer to me and the feelings coursing through me can’t be explained. “I love you too. Always and forever, sir.”
“I want to make this a permanent relationship, girl. I won’t let you get away.” I hope all the tenderness in my heart for her comes through with the little kiss I leave on her forehead. “You’re going to be mine forever.”
“There’s nowhere else I want to be.” Those are the words I drift off to sleep to, and I’m at peace with her there in my arms.
The morning light wakes me and I throw on my lounge pants and tee, then wander down to the desk. By the time the clerk shows me the map and circles all the spots where I might find what we’re looking for, I’m starting to get a little excited. This will be fun. It’s not something I care anything about, but I want her to have a good time, a relaxing time, and I think this will do it.
I go back to the room and find her sorting out the breakfast she’s ordered for us. As soon as we’re finished eating, showered, and dressed, we head out in the Jeep. Of course, her question is, “Where are we going?”
“Well, first, we’re going to stop at an overlook at the edge of the park and walk around a bit.” Her eyes light up and I smile. This is what she’s wanting, to see the world, or at least the little part of it that we can, and I’m not going to deny her that.
We roll into Centralia at about noon and find a little café that serves sandwiches, soup, and tea. I’m not much of a “tea room” kinda guy, but the food is excellent, and we laugh and talk while we eat. Our intended destination is the big antique mall down the street.
I’ve never seen anybody get so excited about old stuff before. She loves this place. As we walk through, she stops at every booth, looking at things, talking about what they are, how old they might be, and anything she knows about their history. I see things I’ve never seen before―a turn-of-the-century curling apparatus for hair, tongs for the blocks of ice they used in “iceboxes,” and a tall, skinny thing that, to my surprise, is a well bucket. I always thought of the kind that’s wooden staves and metal hoops, but apparently these that look to be made out of stovepipe were very common. There are also locked cases of all kinds of things, like dolls and jewelry and crystal. “Oh my god, look at that!” she exclaims and points to a vase. “It’s beautiful! And in perfect condition!”
“Yeah. That’s a nice vase,” I tell her. It’s a soft jade green with these watercolor-like flowers painted on it. “Very pretty.”
“Do you know what that is?” she almost shouts and looks at me like I’m crazy.
“Um, a vase?” Did I miss something? Looks like a vase to me.
“Yeah, but do you know what kind?”
I just shrug. “No clue.”
“It’s a Rookwood, Brian!” Why does that name sound familiar? “Oh, come on. You’re kidding, right? Rookwood?” Come on, Zimmer―think! “Brian! Seriously?”
“I’m sorry. I know that sounds familiar, but―”
“Rookwood! Rookwood Pottery! In Over-the-Rhine!”
Cincinnati! How could I not recognize that? “Oh my god! Yeah! Rookwood Pottery! Like Rookwood Commons!” There are a bunch of stores and restaurants there. I shopped and ate there for years. The shopping complex is named for the pottery company. “Is that one of their pieces?”
“Yeah, definitely, and I think it’s very early nineteen hundreds.”
“How much do they want for it?” I ask innocently. Fifty dollars? Sixty? Can’t be much more than that.
She bends over and looks at the bottom of the vase through the glass shelf it sits on. “Looks like eight hundred and seventy-five dollars. Sounds about right.”
“What? You’re kidding, right?” Almost nine hundred dollars? That thing had better double as a portable shitter for that price.
“Not kidding. It’s a good example of their work, in pristine condition, and the colors are beautiful. Hope they don’t mind if I take a picture of it.” Cell phone in hand, she snaps a pic of it and smiles. “I used to have one a lot like i
t.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. In D.C. I collected their work. Had a nice collection too.”
“What happened to it?”
That sad expression creeps back into her eyes. “I have no idea.” Did she just walk away from it? From her entire life there? I have to believe that’s the case. I bet she didn’t walk away; I bet she ran. She interrupts my thoughts when she says, “I collected theirs, Louisville Stoneware, and Bybee Pottery.”
“I’ve heard of Bybee before.”
“Yeah, they’re very popular. And they’re all still in business.”
“So you should start collecting again.”
“I’m afraid that would be bad luck,” she says and steps away from the case. “But I did love it a lot.”
We wander on through the mall, stopping here and there for her to try on a funny hat or look through a stack of old magazines. We have to loop around and around the place―it’s like a giant maze―and when we get close to the front, she says, “I’ve got to go to the restroom. Be right back.”
I watch until I see her close the door and I literally run to the register. “Booth twenty-three. There’s a Rookwood vase in there. Eight hundred and seventy-five dollars. Here―my credit card. Ring that sucker up, wrap it in a box, and I’ll pick it and my card up as we leave, okay?”
There must be a wild look in my eyes because the woman is staring at me. “Yes, sir. I’ll do that. Green vase with flowers on it?”
“Yeah! That’s the one. It’s a surprise for my girlfriend. Mum’s the word,” I tell her, finger up to my lips, and run back to where I was standing when Cirilla went to the restroom.
The door opens and she joins me. It’s taking everything I have to keep from huffing and puffing from my sprint through the store. “Hey, miss me?” she asks as she steps up to me, takes my hand, and gives me a kiss on the cheek.
“You know I did. Come on. Let’s look through the other half of this place. Lots of interesting stuff here,” I say as I pull her along, and from the corner of my eye I can see the clerk heading down the aisle toward booth twenty-three. Good. It’ll be waiting for us.
We get about halfway through that side of the store when I hear Cirilla say, “Oh, look at this!” She’s pointing to something in another case, so I take a look.
It’s the same vase, but this one is cracked down one side and it has a big chip out of the rim. “Not in very good shape.”
“Yeah, but it’s seventy-five dollars. I can afford that.”
“That’s seventy-five dollars? In that shape? No. That’s ridiculous. You should wait until you can afford a really nice one like the first one we saw.”
“I’ll never be able to afford that. It’s too much.” Without another word, she turns and continues on through the store.
By the time we’re ready to go, she’s actually got three pieces she’s buying, two pieces of Hull pottery and a piece of McCoy. One of the Hull pieces is a bowtie cornucopia vase, all terms with which I’m unfamiliar, and the other is a set of cookie jar, grease pot, and salt and pepper shakers all made up to look like blush red apples. I have to admit, they’re striking, and I think a neighbor had a set when I was growing up. The McCoy piece is beautiful in an odd way―an art deco vase that’s pink and green in what she calls the amaryllis pattern. All of the pieces together are almost two hundred dollars, but she insists she’s getting a good deal on them and they’re useful. After she’s paid for them, she watches as the girl helping the clerk wraps them carefully in paper from a newspaper end roll and packs them into a box. When she’s finished, the clerk slips my credit card to me and hands the girl the box to add to Cirilla’s purchases. “What’s that?”
I shrug. “Just a little something I bought.”
“Brian, what did you do?”
“Nothing. Just got you a little present, that’s all.”
Her mouth drops open and she stands there for a few seconds before she says, “You didn’t!”
“I did.”
“You shouldn’t have.”
“You don’t get to choose what I buy, missy. Say thank you.” I fold my arms across my chest and wait.
“Brian, I … Thank you. I love you.” And she starts to cry.
“Oh, baby,” I say, wrapping an arm around her, “I love you too.”
“Miss, for what it’s worth, that was a very good purchase. We had one of those go for over twelve hundred dollars last month,” the clerk says with pride. “They’re getting harder and harder to find. If you ever wanted one, this was the time to buy it. You might never see another.”
“Thank you,” Cirilla tells the woman with a huge smile. “I can’t wait to get it home.”
We carry the boxes to the Jeep, put them in the back floorboard, and I hold the door for her to get into the passenger seat. Once I’m in, we head for a steakhouse I saw at the edge of town before going back to the lodge. As we pull into the lodge’s parking lot, I realize something important.
I’m happy. I’m really, really happy, the kind of happy I don’t think I’ve ever been before. It’s permeating everything about me, every portion of me, coloring my world and making it brighter. I’m in love with a woman who loves me. For the first time ever, my future is looking very bright, both personally and professionally. Everybody needs a turning point.
This is mine.
* * *
“Will you help me put this together?”
That gets a nod from me. “Of course. I’d love to.”
“I think my things will look good on it.” She ordered a little etagere with glass shelves, and she’s going to put the pottery pieces on it. Sometimes I catch her in the bedroom looking at them, picking them up, running her fingers over them and turning them over in her hands. I have to wonder, is she remembering the day when she got them? Or is she remembering her old life? I hope it’s the former and not the latter.
“Anywhere else we need to stop?” I ask as I pull away from the curb.
“Yeah. I wanted to go down to the pastry shop, but I can do that when we get home.”
“Okay. Let’s go.” I point my car in the direction of the apartment building and in ten minutes, I’m pulling into the parking lot.
At the front door, I open it but she steps on past. “I’m going down there to get some pastries and I’ll be right back.”
Now I’m getting nervous. “I should probably go with you.”
She gives me a hard frown. “You can’t follow me everywhere, Brian, and it’s just down the block across the side street. I’ll be fine. It’s broad daylight, for god’s sake.”
“Okay. See you in a minute,” I say as she walks away, and I stop there for just a few seconds to watch her go. God, I love that ass. It’s so beautiful. And that’s when I see him.
Across the street, in a doorway, is a man who looks out of place there. He’s wearing a suit, but not a suit. I don’t know how to describe it, but it’s not something I see every day, that’s for sure. It’s almost like one of those old polyester leisure suits, and the whole thing just strikes me wrong. Once I’ve stepped inside and let the door close behind me, I turn and watch.
There is absolutely no doubt in my mind―he’s watching Cirilla. The hair on the back of my neck bristles and rises and my stomach quivers. She has to cross the street once to get to the shop, and I see him set out just before she gets to the corner. I can’t do nothing.
Running down the building’s main downstairs hallway, I hit the back exit door full force and burst out into the alley, then bolt around the side of the building. My feet hit the front sidewalk at the exact moment she crosses the street, and I see the guy pick up the pace to a brisk walk, not to cross too, but to keep an eye on her. I have an overwhelming urge to dart across the street, jump him, and beat the ever-loving shit out of him. But I can’t. All I can do is follow along and watch. I can tell he has no idea I’m anywhere around, and that’s what I want.
She reaches the front door of the pastry shop, and when her hand takes th
e door handle, she turns and looks back my way. The minute she does, I see him turn to the right, and I know he’s attempting to make sure she doesn’t see him looking at her. But I know for sure she sees me because I can see those eyebrows shoot up even from this distance, and yet she does nothing, just goes on inside. When the shop’s door closes, he steps nearer to the building. That’s when I decide I’ve got to do something―I’m not sure what, but something.
I stay on my side of the street until I get in the next block, straight across the street from the front door of the pastry shop, and then I cross the street mid-block. He’s still standing three doors down, and I know he sees me, but I’m not sure he makes the connection. When I throw open the shop door and step inside, Cirilla’s at the counter paying for her items. She spins to leave and finds me standing there, blocking her way, so I just grab her arm, wheel her around, and glare at the cashier. “We’ve got to go out your back door. Now. Point it out.”
“Um, that way,” she says, almost startled silent, and points back through the baking area.
“Come on.” I don’t wait for her to ask me what’s going on, just drag her through the kitchen area and out the back door. It opens onto an alley, and I keep going in the opposite direction from the apartment building.
“What the hell? What are you doing?” she almost screams at me.
“Stay quiet and come with me. Hurry.” We come out the end of the alley and I turn right, then right at the corner. We’re now on the street behind the bakery, and I head back toward our building. We cross the cross street and I’m not afforded a view to see if he’s still standing in the doorway of the building down from the shop, so I keep going down the street parallel to ours until I get to the next cross street and take a right. One more block takes us back to our street and half a block down from the front door. I peer around the corner and see him down there, still waiting three doors from the pastry shop. Bastard. The light changes and we cross onto our side of the street, but I drag her on down the block to the alley, turn right, and come to the back of our building. My pass key gets us in the back door, and we’re safe and sound in the main hallway. That one-block trip to the shop for pastries took us about five blocks on return, and I don’t care. “Upstairs. Now. Lock the door,” I bark at her and point to the elevator, and she heads that direction, but I don’t. I go back to the front door and peer down the block.
Completely Mine: Bliss Series, Book Four Page 18
