by S. L. Scott
An aching begins to build from intense desires. I want to lose control and move faster and harder, for pleasure alone, but I need to make love to her. I need to remember every one of her sighs and gestures, every movement and the whole feel of this experience. I can’t treat this casually. It’s not, and every time we come together needs to matter and be important.
Her body works against mine, her pull grounding me to her, pushing me to give into her own demanding movements. She breaks away from my mouth, gasping for air, but her eyes are still closed. I pick up my pace and add a hip move I know will feel good to my beautiful girlfriend.
I just didn’t count on it feeling so fucking incredible for me when giving her my all. With one deep thrust, I stop, squeezing my eyes shut and take a deep breath desperately trying to stave off my own undoing.
She looks up at me as I open my eyes. Cupping my face, she asks with only a breath between us, “Are you okay?”
Once again, I look beyond the tranquil emerald flecks in the center of her green eyes, and reply, “I love you, Mallory.”
“I love you, too.”
Dropping my head against her forehead, my emotions get the best of me. “I need all of you. Everything.”
“Look at me, Evan.” When I do, she says, “You have all of me. I’m yours, completely.” She plants a sweet kiss on my lips and then with her heels, encourages me to start moving again.
I do. I start moving and thrusting, letting my mind get washed into its own oblivion of Mallory goodness. And like my mind, my body follows swiftly as I release while buried inside. When comprehension returns, I open my eyes to find her watching me intently as if doing some memorizing herself.
She sighs contentedly and says, “I wish I could capture that face on film.”
I drop on top of her, smiling but exhausted, and rest my head snuggled to her neck as it dawns on me what she’s talking about. “My come face? You want a picture of my come face?” I chuckle at the notion.
She rubs my back gently, dragging her nails lightly along my skin giving me goose bumps and relaxing me as she explains, “Yes, your come face. You’re beautiful all the time, but when you orgasm, you’re feral and sexy as hell.”
I laugh a little harder, feeling exhaustion starting to kick in. “Maybe one day I’ll let you take a pic, but I’m going to need one of you in return.”
A satiated smile lifts the corners of her mouth up. “That would be only fair.”
She snuggles down, pulling the blankets around us and we fall asleep in a tangle of limbs and mingling breaths, soft words of love, and hearts, minds and bodies satisfied.
I don’t like waking up alone anymore. It’s disconcerting to me.
My arms grapple the vast emptiness of the space beside me and my eyes pop open in response. I look around. “Mallory?” tumbles from my mouth without thought, but on instinct.
Sitting up, I find only silence surrounding me. “Mallory?” Flipping the covers off my body, I swing my legs over the edge and walk into the bathroom, still calling her name. “Mallory?”
I don’t know why I feel like something is wrong, but when I walk through the house, still naked from our earlier activities, frantic thoughts race through my brain. I open the back door to see if she’s out there. “Mallory?” I call loudly, but still don’t receive an answer.
Running back in, I grab a pair of shorts from the floor, shoving one leg quickly in and almost tripping to get the other one in as I hurry for the front door. I race by the pool, zipping my pants up, still calling her name.
I rush inside the main house, buttoning the top button of my shorts, out of breath from anxiety, and halt instantly. I hear her. I hear her talking. I hear her laughing. I also hear Ms. Chart laughing. Calm overrides all my worries and I exhale, loudly.
Then I call her, softer in tone, more relaxed, and hopeful. “Mallory?”
“Oh, there he is now.” I hear her before I see her coming from Ms. Chart’s bedroom with a bright smile on her face.
Surprising me, she jumps up on me, wrapping her legs around my waist, and I catch her, holding her by her bottom. I’m liking this new greeting that she’s been giving me lately. I squeeze her ass for good measure.
“Good morning, babe,” she says, kissing me on the lips.
“I think it’s more like afternoon, Mallory,” Ms. Chart corrects her playfully then lovingly scolds me, “Evan, you’ve slept half the day away. You shouldn’t keep your guests waiting like that.”
“Yes, you shouldn’t have kept me waiting because I got into all kinds of trouble while you were sleeping. I was lucky I found such great company to spend time with,” Mallory adds, dropping her feet to the floor again.
I smirk. “What kind of trouble would that be, my beautiful girlfriend?” I kiss her on the forehead, wrapping my arm around her shoulders and bringing her to my side.
Mallory looks at Ms. Chart and says, “You’re gonna get in so much trouble—”
I can feel the frown form across my face as I look between them sharing secrets like old friends.
“I’ll let you tell him. You practically twisted my arm. What was I supposed to do?” Ms. Chart adds, looking at Mallory.
Mallory giggles, looks up at me, and announces, “Don’t worry, I love chubby babies.”
“What?” The fuck?
“You were such a cute little guy,” she adds in this baby tone and pinches my cheeks.
I look at Ms. Chart in embarrassment. “You didn’t, did you?”
Looking as innocent as a guilty woman can look, she throws her hands in the air. “I couldn’t resist. Mallory is very persuasive.”
“No,” is all I can say, shaking my head.
A huge smile crosses Mallory’s face, cocking a challenging eyebrow up at me, she says, “Oh yeah, I saw the goods, ya little chunkers.”
“I can’t help that they fed me all the time. It’s not like I was helping myself in the kitchen.” I try to justify my heavy baby build.
“Don’t get all defensive. I think you were adorable, like you are now.” She reassures me by hugging me tightly and sighs. “I love babies.”
Do I want to have a baby conversation right now? No, not really. “You love looking at babies?” I ask nervous to where this conversation is heading.
“I love babies, looking and holding. I babysat a lot in high school. I love the smell and feel of their soft skin.” Her eyes get this far away look in them as she speaks, in a dreamy way. She starts illustrating with her arms in the air. “When they’re all cranky and you soothe them and they fall asleep in your arms. Aww…” She places her hand over her heart. “It’s just the sweetest thing.”
“Seriously, are we talking about babies right now?” I ask, scratching my head.
Resting the palms of her hands on my chest, she asks, “Why are you so nervous? It’s not like I’m planning our family or anything. Geez Louise, you need to lighten up, babe. Gail was only showing me—”
“Gail? Why are you calling her that?”
Mallory walks across the kitchen, opens the fridge, and pulls out two plates, handing them to me. “Can you carry these please? I thought we’d eat lunch by the pool.”
I take the plates from her, but still stand there waiting for her to answer. She grabs two cans of soda before walking around me and out the back door. I follow, outpacing her to reach the table first. Setting the plates down, I ask, “Did she ask you to call her that?”
We slowly sit down. She puts her elbows on the table and rests her head in her hands. “Yes, but I can call her Ms. Chart if you prefer. She’s really a great lady.”
“Yes, I agree. She is. It’s—”
Reaching across the table, her hands come to rest on mine. “Do you want to call her Gail, babe?”
Suddenly I feel like I’m five years old in my reasoning. I’m just realizing how controlled my life has been. “I used to… for a few years before the whole Lani thing.” My voice gets quieter though it’s unintentional. “It was kind of a secre
t between us, but when my parents came to the island to deal with everything, I slipped up. My mother freaked out. She feels threatened by her and that’s her way of making the distinction that she’s not family.” I pause then add, “I’m being rude. I should put a shirt on for lunch.”
I start to stand, but she stops me. “No, I like looking at you, hot stuff. Anyway, it’s just us.” She lets out a small laugh like she’s sort of been caught doing something naughty.
“Come here.”
She comes over and settles into my lap, wrapping her arm around my neck and kissing my temple.
Her tone is lilt, happy. “I love being here with you like this.”
Squeezing her tighter, I say, “I feel the same way. I don’t want you to go, but your college is important. That kind of reminds me of something we need to talk about.” I look at her eyes as they meet mine. “You want to go for a walk down on the beach?”
“I’m not sure. You’re kind of scaring me right now.”
“Don’t stress. I just want to share what’s on my mind.”
I lift up and she stands. Taking her hand, we walk to the steps that lead to the beach. She stops me, pulling back on my hand. “Really, um… we can talk here,” she says, obviously thinking it’s worse than it is.
“It’s not bad, well… it’s not going to affect us if that’s what you’re worried about, well, maybe, but…it won’t separate us… hmmm… well… it will—”
She instantly halts. “Stop! You’re really freaking me out.”
“Calm down. It’s good news.” I see her breathing deepen from the shallow short breaths she was taking a few seconds before. “My dad offered me a job—”
“In New York?”
“Yes.”
“At his company?”
“Yes.”
“You said you hated New York?”
“I did… I do.” I scrape my hand roughly across my scalp trying to phrase this to her in a way that makes some kind of sense. “Mallory, there are several reasons why I should take this job.”
“Okay.”
“Well, first of all, it pays well and considering I don’t have a job, I kind of need the money, especially if I want to come to Boulder spring semester.”
She nods in understanding, but then asks, “Do you really need the money, Evan? I mean look around this place. You have the latest and greatest of everything from TV’s to cars, an endless supply of ‘fun’ money, and no bills from what I can gather. I’m not judging you, but I don’t think it’s about the money. I think it’s about you needing to prove something to your parents.”
Thinking about what she said in quiet contemplation for a long minute before I turn, looking at her. “More than my parents, I want to do this for us, for you. You’re right, my monthly allowance is more than sufficient to live off of, but I need something to do. I may look like a lazy bastard most of the time, but I like keeping my mind occupied.”
“I wasn’t calling you lazy,” she says, resting her hand on my forearm.
“I know you weren’t, but I need to do this for myself as well. This will be extra money that I’ll have to help us in Colorado.”
“I can support myself at school. I don’t want you to take a job because you think you need to support me. I don’t live a fancy lifestyle or in a swanky apartment. I have an old box TV, an even older Toyota, but I have a job that pays the bills and I’m happy. So please, if you take this job, do it for you and only you.”
“This experience will look good on my resume.”
She walks to the edge of the water, letting her feet get covered by the tide. “Work experience is always a bonus on a resume while you’re in college. It shows you’re motivated and have a good work ethic.”
“You sound like my dad.”
“I like your dad,” she says, chuckling. “So you’ve made up your mind?”
“I wanted to talk to you about it, but yes, I think I’m pretty solid with this decision.”
She wraps her arms around my shoulders. “I’ll miss you, but I’d miss you if you were here too.” Dropping her head on my right shoulder, she asks, “Can I be honest about something?”
“I hope you’re always honest with me.”
“The girls,” she corrects herself, “the women there in New York, they’re—”
“They don’t compare to you. No one has ever made me feel the way you do. I’m there for a job and to hopefully help my family keep the business in the family. Nothing else, okay, baby?” I kiss her. She responds positively to my answer by intensifying the kiss.
CHAPTER 15
~ Evan ~
The afternoon sun is bright, but we’re still on a deadline when she finally walks out of the bathroom, dressed and ready to go. “You look great,” I say, ogling her hotness. She’s all lean legs and tight T-shirt, shorts, and flowing hair tonight. She’s breathtaking.
While driving to our secret first stop, she states, “You said you hated it when you lived in New York after Yale.”
She doesn’t say anything else, but I can see where her mind is at. She has those pesky fears of me cheating or falling prey to some Manhattan society chick, but that is not gonna happen. The only way to truly alleviate her fears is to prove it to her, which I will.
I pull into the parking lot of Hilo Hattie, the largest store of Hawaiian shirts in the world. She looks at the store then back at me as if I must have driven to the wrong place. But I smile and waggle my eyebrows. After hopping out, I run around and help her out of the car. She’s learned to wait most of the time.
“We’re shopping?” she asks, surprised as I knew she would be.
“Yes,” I say, “we’re shopping.” We stop inside the entrance and pose in front of the largest Hawaiian shirt in the world. I hold my phone out in front of us and take a photo.
“What are you up to, Ashford?”
“If we’re gonna do this luau touristy thing, we’re gonna do it right.” Seeing the clothes in the back, we head straight through the knick-knack section and into the women’s section. “Pick out whatever you want. My treat.”
Her eyes light up. “Really?”
“Really. Now go. We only have thirty minutes before we need to check in.”
She spins, eyes scanning the merchandise, and says, “I almost don’t know where to start.”
“Start wh—”
“Shhh, I’m a girl. That was rhetorical. Stay quiet and try to keep up.” She scurries through the racks of clothes.
The sections are divided by design: traditional, modern, muted, and some crazy ones. She goes to the traditional section and pulls out a shirt and some other things. I’m paying attention, but not that closely. I follow her to the dressing room, sit in the provided ‘guy’ chair, and wait.
When she comes out a few minutes later, she’s wearing a blue-based flowery button up shirt. She twirls for me. “How do I look?”
“Um, it doesn’t show much skin.” That’s all I can think to say because I don’t think I thought this through thoroughly when I came up with this idea. Why in the hell would I take her shopping for clothes that cover her up?
“I like the colors,” I say, circling my finger in the air at her shirt.
She turns on her heal, huffing, and goes back into the dressing room. Two minutes later, she returns wearing a dress in that same pattern. It’s fitted to her breasts and has small thin straps. The skirt portion is tied up on her hip and shows off her curves nicely. I stand up and plant a gentle kiss just behind her ear. “You look amazing.”
“So, that’s a yes then?”
“A definite yes.” I’m too busy to say more because I’m still appreciating her soft skin against my lips. “Keep it on. I want you to wear it tonight. I’ll meet you up front at the register.”
Reaching around, I take the tag off, leaving her to gather her stuff. Then I rush back through grabbing a Hawaiian shirt for me and pulling it on over my head as I walk to the jewelry section. Scanning the cases quickly, I know what I’m lookin
g for because I’ve seen Kate in a similar pair of earrings, but I’m not looking for earrings. When I spot exactly what I want, I make all my purchases there, hidden from Mallory’s sight.
Mallory is on her tiptoes looking for me a few feet away. I hurry to her side not wanting her to wait any longer and ask, “Did you see anything else you’d like to have to remember your trip to Hawaii?”
“I’ve got you. That’s all I need.” A huge smirk crosses her face as she pokes me in the chest. “Nice shirt.”
“Thanks.”
Her finger sways between us several times as she takes in the fabric. Yeah, my shirt matches hers. I went there. “You don’t think we’re a little matchy-matchy?” she asks.
“I want everyone there to know that I’m the guy lucky enough to get to wear a shirt that matches my incredibly stunning girlfriend’s dress. Not too psycho for ya, is it?”
“A little, but I’ve always been a sucker for your stalker tendencies.” Her finger taps my chin and she walks toward the exit, leaving me there to watch her fine ass.
She’s fucking hot.
In the car, she leans over and kisses me on the cheek. “Thank you for the dress. It’s really pretty.”
“You look beautiful, Mallory.”
“I feel beautiful. Thank you.”
I throw the bag in the trunk after retrieving her surprise out and shoving it deep into my pocket.
The mood is light and easy on the drive. We finally pull into the large lot on the other side of the tourist buses, and park. We walk to the entrance and down the bamboo corridor that leads us to the greeters. They hand us a Mai Tai, and a girl in a traditional hula outfit welcomes us, “Aloha. Welcome to Luau Paradise, step on up, and we’ll take your picture as a souvenir. You have the option to purchase the picture at the end of the evening.”
We’re shuffled forward by a big burly dude and suddenly a man with some very large parrots is standing very close, warning us. “I’m going to put one on each of your shoulders. Don’t make any quick movements, scare, or harm the birds. Mahalo.” And that’s how I come to find myself standing next to Mallory in a matching Hawaiian shirt, Mai Tai in hand, a very large bird on my shoulder, and posing for a souvenir photo that I’m definitely going to purchase.
