We bring the lobster rolls, salad, and sliced oranges with us. Belmont leads me up the stairs into my old bedroom. We put the food on the dresser, and we fall onto the king-sized, comfortable bed. The mattress and bedspread feel so familiar. Instead of pillaging me right away, he spreads out beside me.
“You didn’t make me feel dirty, Daisy,” he says. “I knew you’d come around.” He tugs the sloppy knot holding my dress closed and spreads my dress wide open. “However, I didn’t think it would take that long. What the hell were you doing?”
I look at his eyes, but he’s focusing on unclipping my bra. Only for a second does he glance at my eyes.
“Working, I guess. My mom wondered why in the world I cared to begin with.” I skip a breath because his fingers are kneading the tip of my left nipple.
“So Heloise Krantz is your mother. I would’ve never guessed it.” He grins. “She’s a goddamn ballbuster! She fired me once before I could even finish the first sentence. She shouted, ‘Get him out! Find me someone who can fucking act.’ My balls were officially busted.”
I chuckle. “Yeah, that sounds like her when she’s working. How did you find her? And how in the world did you get her to come?”
“Your travel agent gave me her name, and I called a friend of hers. Do you know Libby Donaldson?”
“I know her,” I say. She’s my mother’s best friend.
“First I had to tell Libby about us and what the hell I did to you, and then she called your mother, and Heloise called me. Getting her on a plane to Martha’s Vineyard was the easiest part.” He pauses. “She didn’t even apologize for busting my balls either. And she remembered what she did.”
I laugh. “Knowing my mom, she truly believes she did you a favor.”
“Ha,” he says. “That’s what she said.”
“See? I know my mom.”
“She gave me her blessing.” He digs that little black velvet box out of his pocket and sets it on top of the pillow. “You know what I want, don’t you, Daisy?”
I take in an extremely deep, cleansing sigh. I nod.
“I know you’re used to going at it alone, which is why it took you so long to leave this on my door.” He slides a folded piece of paper out of his pocket and opens it. It’s the note I left for him on the night of the wedding.
“Oh, you got it,” I remark.
“I got it too late. Charlie was home when you left it, but he was upstairs fucking.”
“Oh, you mean the young girl?”
“How do you know she was young?”
“I ran into them the day before at the coffee shop in Oak Bluffs.”
“I wish I was the one who ran into you.”
“I went to Linda Jeans. Two men at the counter were talking about you, I think. There were saying something about Jack being a good guy and would give one of them work.”
“Did listening to them make you want me?” He lifts his eyebrows twice.
I grin. “Just as much as hearing you talk about your clean-water project and…” I look down at his pants and vest. “Is this Tom Ford you have on?”
His smile grows larger. “I thought you’d notice.”
“Oh I did. And I’m so turned on.”
He dips his fingers into me. “I see.” He doesn’t take his fingers out of me, but he doesn’t shift them either.
The mere fact that he’s touching me there is so erotic that all those sensitive spots tingle again.
“Oh shit, are you going to come, baby?” he asks. He’s very tuned in to my body.
“I don’t know,” I breathe. “Maybe you should remove your fingers.”
He narrows one eye to think about it. “Uh um,” is his answer. “I’m going to dine on you soon, and I need you wet.”
I gulp. That sounded so sexy.
“Tell me more. I need to know what you were doing when you weren’t with me.”
It’s hard to concentrate with his fingers inside of me, but I try. “I don’t know. I went to weddings, took lots of pictures.”
“What for? Personal research?” He lifts his eyebrows, grinning.
“No, I changed the focus of my article. You were right; the taxicab series wouldn’t work here. Did you pay Todd to drive me around?”
He chuckles. “I’m guilty.”
“And what about the list?”
“What list?”
“Todd secured me a list of all the weddings that are taking place on the island. You had nothing to do with that?”
“Nope. That was all Todd. But he’s a good guy like that.” Belmont finally removes his fingers. “Don’t move, baby.” He jumps to his feet to quickly take off his vest and shirt and step out of his pants. I watch as if he’s a scene in a film. His schlong is the perfect length and girth and ready to seek refuge inside of me. Once he’s completely naked, he stretches, poking me in the hip with his pole. “Did you go to Emil and Sidney’s wedding?”
“Um hum,” I hum.
He snakes those fingers back inside of me. Once again, I skip a breath.
“You’re contracting,” he whispers.
“What do you mean by contracting?” I breathe.
“You’re going to come…” Belmont must realize he can’t stop my body from reacting to him if he’s not willing to stop touching me there. He kisses and trails tender bites up my shoulder, down my collarbone, to consume my right nipple. “You’re extra warm, baby, even in here.” He sinks his fingers deeper.
“Maybe I still have water in my head or something. Or my body is probably healing from the trauma of drowning,” I offer up as some excuse.
Suddenly he freezes. “Are you hurting anywhere?”
“No,” I assure him, “I feel fine.” I would be tired if I weren’t so excited that he’s next to me.
He guides himself down to my nether regions, and his mouth latches on to my clitoris. Belmont means to make me come and come hard. I twist and turn and clutch the bedspread. He offers no reprieve. His tongue is working so diligently that he doesn’t gaze up at my face like usual.
My thighs quiver. I’m panting like crazy. It’s so close. And then I’m gripped by the blast. I scream.
Belmont shoves his erection inside of me before my orgasm subsides. He grunts as he plunges in and out of me. “You’re so warm and tight–and wet.” He’s shifting slowly, trying to delay the inevitable.
“Your body is soft all over,” he mutters. “You’re a goddess.” He pauses. Thrusts. “I’ve got to have you forever.” He pauses. Thrusts. “Marry me, Daisy.” He pauses. Thrusts, thrusts, and thrusts again.
Did he just ask me to marry him?
“Are you asking me to marry you?”
He reaches up to grab the black velvet box. He props himself up on his elbows and opens the tiny box.
I gasp. The ring is exquisite. The larger center diamond is pink and the white diamonds surrounding it are formed into the petals of a daisy.
“I am,” he replies.
“I know ‘I love you’ doesn’t count if you’re inside of me, but does that apply to ‘Will you marry me?’” I ask, joking. He laughs, but I can see in his eyes that he’s a little worried that I’m evading the question. “You know everyone will think we’re crazy–engaged after what? Five days?”
“Six,” he quickly says. “You’re it for me, Daisy. If marriage isn’t something you want, that’s okay too, but we’re going to be together either way.”
“No,” I say, and right away, he looks deflated. “I mean, no, I didn’t want marriage before. What the hell, maybe we are crazy, but yes, I’ll marry you.”
He flinches, taken aback. “You’ll marry me?”
“I’ll marry you.”
“She said yes!” he shouts victoriously. He takes the ring out of the box and slides it on my finger. “I told you your tits belong to me.”
I laugh. Now that he’s officially branded me, he pillages me with his rock-hard penis. He goes deep, real deep, as if he’s trying to touch my soul. Sooner than later, he releases an ocean inside
of me. But he doesn’t pull out.
We make out feverishly, moaning and groaning until he rises again. This time, he hangs on longer. He curses and complains that he can’t get deep enough.
Over the course of the night, we make love so many times that I lose count. We stop to eat, but he chooses to go down on me while I eat the lobster roll. I giggle the entire time, but we eventually get through it.
When the sun comes up, he’s still filling me with his liquid fertilizer. We can’t sleep. Even when the staff brings my things into the house, we’re laughing and talking.
We work out some things. I’ll live in Martha’s Vineyard with him until February. He’ll wrap up a few projects, and then we’ll officially move to Tribeca for a while. I’ll cancel my trip to Lima. We’ll fly out to tell my parents. For some strange reason, he wants to get my father’s blessing.
“You don’t really need it,” I try to convince him.
“Trust me, babe. I do. You said you were all wrong about your mother. If you’re wrong about your father, he’ll have my head if he has to walk you down the aisle without being asked to first.”
“There’s no walking me down the aisle. I give myself away,” I say as my cell phone rings. I reach to get it before Belmont can pull me back into his body. It’s in my purse on the floor near the bed.
“It’s a local number,” I say and answer.
“It better not be Pete,” he says as I say, “hello.”
“Miss Blanchard?” a woman asks.
“Yes, this is she.”
Belmont frowns. He recognizes the change my voice has taken.
“I’m calling from the Martha’s Vineyard Hospital. We took some blood tests yesterday. You didn’t tell us, but when was your last period?”
“Last month,” I say, kind of already knowing where she’s going.
“It’s a little early, but you have a slightly elevated level of hCG in your blood. It’s not high enough to confirm pregnancy, but we just wanted to make you aware. Why don’t you come in in thirteen days and—”
“Are you sure the elevated levels aren’t from swallowing contaminated water?” I hope.
“Could be, but when was the last time you engaged in intercourse?”
“Well, five minutes ago.”
“What’s going on?” Belmont whispers.
I lift a finger, asking him to give me a second. What she’s saying sounds insane. “How can you guess it’s pregnancy this soon?”
“Have you had intercourse in the last two or three days?” she asks snippily. I think I’ve offended her with my doubt.
“Have I had sex in the last two or three days…” I repeat absentmindedly. “Um, yeah but—”
“Well, your hCG levels increase significantly only two or three days after implantation, ma’am. So yes, the blood test can detect pregnancy, which means you can be pregnant.”
“Me, pregnant?” It feels as if I’m having an out of body experience.
“Yes!” Belmont pumps his fist victoriously, but I widen my eyes in horror.
“Um, and you said re-test in thirteen days?” I ask.
He flips me on my back, takes his brand-new erection, and stuffs me with it. He takes the phone from me. “Hi, this is Belmont Lord.” He pauses. “How are you, Betty?” He pauses. “Yes, I’m the father. Yes, we’ll come in two weeks. How’s Douglas?” He pauses. “Glad to hear it. Okay then, see you in two.” He hangs up and starts thrusting me.
“What are you doing?” I stiff-arm him in the chest, but it doesn’t slow his hips down.
“You’re not happy?” he whispers.
He feels so good inside of me. It’s messing with my clarity. “No, yes, no. We haven’t even known each other for a week! I cannot be pregnant. Not this fast. Don’t get your hopes up, Belmont.”
He smashes his mouth on mine, kissing me greedily. “I know you are, baby. I can feel the difference. Don’t worry, Daisy, having a baby isn’t going to slow us down. And you won’t be alone. I’ll be with you every step of the way.”
I sigh. “I have been hungrier than usual, but I thought it was because Thelma’s always cooking. She’s a great cook. But still, there may not be a baby,” I caution him.
“There’s a baby,” he insists.
“Maybe not,” I insist.
“There is.”
“We’ll see in two weeks.”
“Until then, no more wine, but I prescribe tons of sex.” I snicker. He kisses me. “I still want to know how you really feel about marrying me. Take your time and tell me the truth.”
“You remember I told you that I didn’t want to be married?”
“Very much so.” He sighs.
“I changed my mind after talking to Sidney.”
He lets out a sigh of relief. “What did she say?”
“She said that when I marry you, our souls will become one–and that’s what I want.” I lift my head to kiss him, and since I start, he finishes. I can hardly breathe, he kisses me so hard.
“Hey,” I breathe when I’m finally able to get a word out.
“What is it?” He’s smooching on my neck. Goodness, he’s so dang good at that.
“What’s Maya’s secret? You can tell me now that we’re going to be wife and husband.”
“What secret?” He takes a break to ask.
“What was she doing in Las Vegas every weekend?”
“Oh,” he says casually, “she was an escort.”
“Like hooker escort?”
“Yes,” he says. He spreads my legs, puts his face in my crotch, and commences to dine.
For the next four days, we only leave the bed to bathe in my favorite tub—where we end up having sex—and to go into the kitchen to eat—where we also end up having sex.
And this is my life now.
It’s taken such a drastic change from the day I stepped foot on the island. Tomorrow, we’re flying to California to get my house packed up and to officially announce our very short engagement to my parents. Belmont promised to not mention anything about the possibility of me being pregnant until it’s confirmed. I’m still hoping that I’m not. Charlie didn’t want to hear anything about it. Thelma did a dance once she heard. Next Thursday night, Belmont and I are joining her at the big table for a do-over. The same guests will be present, except Mandy and Pete, and we’ve promised to behave.
I’ve just finished submitting my article to Dusty. Belmont’s been out most of the morning giving final instructions, or something like that, to the construction crew before our flight in the morning.
I’m packing when I feel a lump stab me in the rear end. Two familiar hands spin me around, and I’m face to face with the sexiest man on the planet.
“I’ve been thinking about you all morning,” he croons and lifts my shirt over my head.
Yeah… his sexual appetite hasn’t diminished one bit. I’m starting to think it never will. He lowers me onto the bed and, well… You know the rest.
THE END
You are cordially invited to the wedding of Belmont Jaxson Lord and Daisy Louise Blanchard.
Be a guest in “There’s Something About Her: A New York L.O.V.E. Story,” the next book in the L.O.V.E. in the USA series.
***
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There’s Something About Her: A Manhattan Love. Story
Excerpt
Dear Patty Welch,
Thank you for–everything. I appreciate learning what I have under your tutelage.
I hereby resign effective immediately.
Sincerely,
Magnolia Conroy
What I really want to say is, “Thank you for teaching me that real, bona fide, mean and nasty witches exist in the world. If I ever had any doubts, well, you cured them.”
I’ve read the letter in my
hands a million times because I wrote it six months ago. One day, I’m going to hand it to Patty, walk out, and let my finances, and thereby my life, fall to pieces.
“What’s going on, little Magnolia bud?” my cousin Charlie says as he flops down beside me and lifts his foot on his knee. I turn up my nose because he smells like the inside of a keg and looks like an unshaven, red-eyed hobo wearing a sloppy suit.
“Charlie,” I mutter. I wish he would’ve chosen to sit elsewhere. I hate it when he calls me Magnolia, which he’s aware of.
I prefer the flower exploding through this humongous space. My other cousin, Charlie’s brother, is getting married. Belmont’s bride is named Daisy-hence, the daisies.
“Why the hell did I show up for this?” Charlie grumbles as he rolls his eyes around the room, viewing it. “Goddamn daisies everywhere.”
It’s no secret he’s in love with his brother’s soon-to-be wife. But in truth, the yellow flowers aren’t a bad touch at all.
We’re fifty-three stories high, and this room takes up the entire floor of the building. The walls are all glass, and it’s sort of like we’re sitting in a garden on a perfect early evening. Inside the huge room is a makeshift duck pond near the east windows that flows into a waterfall to the south and a field of daisies rising to the north.
They wanted to take their vows against the Manhattan sunset—at 8:20 p.m. approximately—which is twenty minutes away, and that’ll be at the west windows.
Twinkling white and yellow lights are tastefully placed throughout the room, and the frames of the chairs we’re sitting on are made of quartz. The seat and back cushions are golden silk and patterned with little daisies.
And the guest list–it’s bloated. There are at least three hundred people. Every single person looks as if they’ve stepped out of GQ or Elle magazine, all except me. I’m just a pale as ghost, limp-haired, overworked, underpaid, and underappreciated marketing assistant who works for the devil incarnate.
Belmont, who we call Jack, rented a cruise ship for the reception. He’s given all the guests rooms to sleep off the monumental celebration he’s got planned, and I’ll have to skip it. My boss wouldn’t give me the two days off that I requested. She wants me in the office tomorrow at six a.m. sharp to prepare for the Black Marble presentation.
Find Her, Keep Her (A Martha's Vineyard Love Story) (Love in the USA) Page 19
