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by JA Huss

  She sinks to her knees and then lies down on it. I walk over to her and sit in the chair. “Why are you on the floor, Grace?”

  “Because I’m tired, Vaughn. I’m exhausted. And it feels good. I just want to lie here and do nothing.”

  I kneel down next to her and turn her a little so I can unzip her dress. She doesn’t protest, so I lift up her arm and slip it through the sleeve. I repeat this for the other arm, and then I pull it down to expose her black bra. “Lift your hips for me, sweets.” She does and I pull the dress down her legs, then past her feet. I fold it nicely and place it over the back of a chair.

  “It feels so good,” she says, her fingertips threading through the soft fur.

  My hands press against her calves and then I slide them up her legs and loop my fingers around her panties. “Not commando today?”

  She smiles but her eyes are closed.

  I pull them down her thighs, exposing her sweet pussy. It makes my dick so hard, I can barely think. I spread her legs and lick her inner thigh. She moans and her hands automatically come to my head, pressing me into her slick sex. I lap at her clit, then suck as I finger her softly.

  “Why do you feel so good?” she whispers. “Why do I want you so bad?”

  I lick her again, and then I push her legs up, bringing her knees up on either side of her head, and I probe the soft bud of her ass for a second before dragging my tongue up her crease. She wriggles and moans, so I stop. “We’re going to eat first.” I pull her up so she’s sitting, then reach behind her and unclasp her bra, letting her full breasts fall free. I palm one, squeezing, but not too hard. It’s a time to be gentle. There’s time for other stuff later.

  “Do you want to sit at my feet or in a chair?” I stand up and take off my coat. She watches me and this makes me very hard. I drape my jacket over the chair, on top of her dress, and then I pull my shirt out of my pants and begin unbuttoning it from the bottom up. Her eyes never leave my fingers.

  I remove my tie and shirt and place them on top of my jacket.

  When I turn back to Grace, she’s got her fingers between her legs. “I’m dying for you, Vaughn. I hate you and I’m dying for you. Why do you make me feel this way?”

  I squat down and cup her face with my hands. “Because you like me, Grace. You like me and I like you. We’re in like.”

  “We can’t be in like,” she whispers back. “Like should not be filled with so much discord and fighting.”

  “Like is passion. And what we have, Grace, is not discord. It’s passion. There’s a difference.” I watch her as she thinks about that. “I’d like you to sit on my lap. Will you sit on my lap for dinner? And if you get too tired you can sit at my feet and fall asleep with your head on my thigh. Your hot breath against my cock.”

  “Will you fuck me?” she asks in a sweet voice.

  “No, baby.” I reach for her hand and pull gently, bringing her reluctantly to me. I sit down in my chair and guide her onto my lap. One of her hands goes between her legs as I lift the lid off the plate closest to me. There are two steaks, both cut up into bite-sized pieces and grilled to a perfect medium-rare pinkness in the center. I pick up a piece with my fingers. “Open, Grace.” She opens her mouth and I place the juicy meat on her tongue.

  “Mmmm. I’m hungry.” She chews slowly and I take this time to feed myself. We alternate this way for a few more bites, then I hand her the champagne flute and she sips. We do this over and over again. Not talking. Not fighting. No expectations or awkwardness.

  Just… nourishment.

  Her head is pressed against my bare chest. My hands play with her breasts between bites. I squeeze when I want to hear her moan, and then when the last bit of meat is gone and the champagne glasses are empty, I dip my fingers between her legs and find her slick and ready.

  “I won’t fuck you, Grace,” I say, bringing my wet fingers to her lips. She opens and sucks, her tongue doing a little dance against my skin, heightening my already raging desire. I’m so fucking hard for her. “But I’ll make like to you.” Her eyes open and she looks at me, still suckling on my finger. “Should I do that, sweets?”

  She slips from my lap and drops to her knees at my feet. And then she rests her head in my lap, her hot breath penetrating through the fabric of my trousers, just like I imagined.

  “I’d like that,” she says quietly. “I’d like that very much.”

  I move her slightly, just enough to stand up. And then I reach down and scoop her into my arms. She laughs a little, but her eyes are closed. She’s very tired. And maybe drunk. But I won’t wait. This is a moment you don’t cut short. This is a moment you relish and prolong.

  So I take her weary body to the bedroom and lay her gently on the bed.

  “I’ve never had sex with you in a bed before,” she says sleepily.

  God, that actually hurts. “I’m ashamed of that fact, Grace. I will make sure we spend lots of time in bed from now on.” She stretches her arms above her head, not trying to be alluring at all, but simply because it feels good. She presses her cheek against the soft white pillow and her whole body relaxes as she lets out a long breath of air.

  “I’m tired.”

  “Too tired for sex?” I ask her as I remove my trousers and fold them over the back of a chair. “I’m not in a hurry.”

  She opens her eyes and gives me a smile that actually makes me swallow down a bit of apprehension. “I’m not too tired. But just don’t make me work too hard.”

  I slip onto the bed next to her and my dick grows from this simple act. I position myself over top of her burning body and lean down, angling my mouth to kiss her.

  “Mmmm,” she moans.

  “Mmmm,” I reply. I tongue her and get an enthusiastic response, so I grip her head and clutch her to me. Our passion increases, the kiss lingers, the want grows… and finally we have to pull apart to take a breath.

  I lift my hips up and angle my cock between her legs.

  “No kinky shit?”

  “No kinky shit, Grace. You want to know what everyday sex with me is like? This would be it. Me. You. In bed naked. I don’t need the dirty words or the public performances. I don’t need to make you submit or humiliate you. I just need you, Grace. That’s it.”

  I slip inside her and she moans, her fingernails digging into my shoulders as I fill her up. He legs spread wide for me and I thrust, gently at first, then her hips match my rhythm, pressing against me, asking for more.

  I give her more.

  I give her everything she wants. I love her slowly. I take my time and whisper in her ear. “You’re so perfect,” I tell her. “You’re all I want,” I insist. “We don’t need the fairy tale when this is our reality.”

  She stills underneath me and when I look down at her, a tear slips out of her eye and rolls down the curve of her perfect cheek.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask, leaning into her ear. “What did I do wrong?”

  She gives me a slight shake of her head as she presses her eyes closed. “Nothing,” she says with a sniff. “It’s just so perfect and I… I don’t ever get the happy ending, Vaughn. If I let myself think I can have it, if I believe… I’ll be so crushed when it disappears.”

  “It’s not going to disappear, Grace. I promise. Don’t let your fear ruin this, sweets. Just accept it. Enjoy it. Please.”

  “I have so much inside me, Vaughn. So many bad things inside me that I’m trying to move past. And I think you’re right. I’m too afraid of failure to allow anything good to happen to me.”

  I drag a piece of hair out of her eyes and kiss her nose. I know her past is something we need to deal with, but not now. Not tonight. This night is not about the past, it’s about the future. “You can’t fail, Grace. You’re a winner.” She smiles. “And besides, I’m not going anywhere. I promise. I will never treat you badly again. I’m sorry. I promise, what we have is good. What we’ll have in the future will be good too. Just trust me.”

  I move inside her and she responds by w
rapping her arms around my neck and her legs around my waist. I plunge deeper. “Be mine, Grace. For real. Just tell me you’ll be mine.”

  “I’m yours,” she says, breathless as our lovemaking increases pace. “Just don’t leave me, Vaughn. Not again.”

  “Never again, baby. I promise. You’ll see.”

  I press myself against her, thrusting deeper as our bodies rock against each other. Her hands come up and grab my hair, making me crazy with my desire to fill her up and make her mine. My mouth and hands drift down to her soft breasts and I suck and squeeze them, making her writhe under me, squealing with desire.

  And that’s all I need. A confirmation that the way forward is filled with endless nights alone with her in bed like this.

  “You’re mine,” I whisper in her ear as my balls tighten up, readying for release.

  “I’m yours,” she says back. Her legs squeeze, her pussy clamps down on my cock. And we find simultaneous perfection together in that moment.

  Chapter Forty-Two - Grace

  #TrustMeI’mAProfessional

  I’M jolted awake by the nausea and spinning. Something has died inside my mouth. I try and open it, but there’s a shitload of cotton in there too. And the fucking sun is blazing down on my face.

  No, wait. That’s the light on the nightstand, I think. This room faces west. And it’s morning, right? Sun’s in the east in the morning. I try and crack my eyelids, but there’s no hope of that. I reach up to pry my mascara-crusted lashes apart. Little flakes fall on my cheek. I sit up and Vaughn’s arm tumbles off my stomach. I force my eyelids open so I can at least look at him.

  God, that man is beautiful. I sigh and the stench of my own bad breath wakes me up. There is no way he will see me like this. I throw the covers off, trip over an empty bottle of champagne, and then fall onto the soft sheepskin rug.

  How did that get in here? I thought we left it in the dining room.

  I get up and make my way to the bathroom, closing the door softly behind me so I don’t wake Vaughn.

  I look in the mirror. I’m a fucking mess. My eyes are ringed black like a raccoon from the makeup I never took off. My skin is pasty white with a healthy shade of green. And my head is fucking pounding. I look down to my outfit. “Hmm.” I’m wearing a flirty white cotton nightgown that hits me high on my thigh. It’s got some sweet eyelet lace and a pink satin bow between my breasts.

  Cute. But where the fuck did this come from?

  My stomach does not care, because right now, all that fucking champagne is sloshing around inside me and I need to hurl. I rush to the separate toilet room, smack the door closed, and barely make the porcelain bowl before emptying the contents of my stomach against my will.

  “Oh, God, I will never drink again. Just make this all stop.”

  I hurl again. God hates me.

  After waiting several minutes to make sure that the sickness has passed, I get up and wash my face. There’s a new package of toothbrushes, so I brush and rinse with mouthwash. And when all of that is done, I feel slightly better. Well, enough to go searching for a coffee machine.

  I leave the bedroom with Vaughn still asleep, and tiptoe my way out into the living room. There’s a buzz coming from my little purse and I dash over and grab my phone. “Fuck!” Seventeen missed calls from Kristi. It’s her wedding day! Oh, my fucking God. It’s almost one in the afternoon. I’m her planner and I’m going to fuck up her whole day!

  My phone buzzes in my hand again and I quickly press accept. “Kristi, shit, I’m so fucking sorry!”

  “Where are you?” she demands.

  “Um, with Vaughn, in his room. Hold on, let me check the room number.” I run to the door and throw it open. “It says Lakeview Room.”

  “I’m just down the hall. Stay right there so I can see you.”

  “OK. Shit, I swear, I’ll fix this, OK? I can be dressed and ready in thirty minutes—”

  “Never mind that.” Her voice is booming now and I realize she’s coming down the hallway. A second later she rounds the corner and comes into view. “Grace!” she says, her voice filled with despair as the tears stream down her face.

  “What? What happened?” She’s a wreck as she comes up and throws her arms around my neck. “Tell me, tell me!”

  “I can’t do it.”

  “Can’t do what?” But I know what, and my stomach sinks inside me. I feel sick again.

  “Marry him, Grace. You were right. He’s not… he’s not into me, right? He’s just doing it out of guilt or something, Public image, like you said. He’s a bastard asshole. Making me get married on a Thursday! And… and… and… not taking part in any of the planning! I can’t do it. I can’t. You were so totally right! Thank God I have a friend like you, Grace, I don’t know what I’d—”

  “No,” I laugh. “No, no, no. You can’t… I was drunk, Kristi. Totally fucking smashed. You need to forget every word I said. Please!”

  “No,” she says, shaking her head. “I can’t do it. I don’t think we’re right for each other. I don’t want to be wife number three. Oh my God! What was I thinking? I’m going to ruin my life if I marry Johnny, I know it!”

  “Wait, why? Just calm down and tell me why. Did something happen last night? Did he come see you and—”

  “No, he didn’t come see me! That’s part of the problem. You said he should be sneaking in to get a look at me if he cared. And he didn’t. He doesn’t care about me at all. I’m just a way to tie up his loose ends!”

  Oh, Jesus Christ, I have done it now. I put my hands together like I’m praying and touch the tips of my fingers to my forehead. “Kristi, please. Be calm and listen to me, OK? I don’t know Johnny. I saw him for the first time yesterday evening. I have no clue how he feels about you or why he wants to marry you. Only you know that stuff and honey, this is called cold feet. Lots of people get this, it’s not new. Do you love him?”

  She gets a look of pure panic on her face. “I don’t know! I’m so emotional these days because of the baby. I can’t tell what’s real and what’s not.”

  Welcome to the club, I feel like saying. But I don’t. I’m the professional here, I need to act like it for once. “Listen to me, Kristi. I’m a love-life loser, OK? I know nothing. At all. So forget everything I said yesterday and just ask yourself… do you really want to throw this day away over cold feet?”

  She takes a deep breath and appears to gather herself. “I don’t know. I don’t know anything, Grace. Tell me what to do.”

  “Go back to your room and take a moment. I see your hair and makeup are done, so all you have to do is touch it up and then go down to the dressing room like we planned and let them get that dress on you. OK?” I hold her shoulders gently and give her a small shake when she doesn’t answer. “OK? We’re going to get you ready and you’re going to calm down. Just go get your stuff and I’ll meet you down in the dressing room in thirty minutes. We can do this.”

  She looks warily at me.

  “Kristi,” I say firmly. “You’re getting married today. You love this man, he loves you. And this wedding is that expression of your love.” I wait but she just continues to stare. “Right?” I prod her.

  She takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. “Right.”

  “I’ll meet you in the dressing room in thirty minutes. OK?”

  “OK,” she says with a pouty frown on her face. “OK. but please, Grace, don’t be late. I still might need some support and I have no family here. I can’t exactly talk to his people about this, ya know?”

  “I know. I’ll be down there in thirty minutes, I promise.”

  She bobs her head in agreement and then turns away.

  Whew. Crisis averted.

  Chapter Forty-Three - Vaughn

  #Unraveling

  I TURN over in bed, still lost in my dream about Grace. She’s in a white dress surrounded by twinkling lights and there’s music playing. I take her hand and draw her to me, my eyes never leaving hers, and then I cup her face fully in my p
alms and kiss her mouth in a way I’ve never done before. So thorough. So soft. So lingering.

  And she lingers too, like this kiss is the first.

  We kiss like it’s the first time ever.

  I reach out to her in bed, unwilling to leave the dream, yet wanting her close. But all I get is empty sheets.

  I bolt up. “Grace?”

  “In here,” she calls and my racing heart immediately calms down. She comes out of the bathroom a few seconds later, brushing her hair. “It’s Kristi’s wedding day and she’s freaking out. I need to get down to the dressing room and calm her down.”

  “OK,” I say, swinging my feet out of bed.

  She glances down to my morning wood and smirks. “Apparently you are not the invisible man this morning.”

  “Completely visible,” I joke back. “We need to talk, Grace. Before you run off for this wedding. I just need you to understand that whatever it is, I’m here for you.”

  “What are you talking about?” She bends over to slip on her shoes and I ogle her ass. “You’re here for me about what?”

  I grab my trousers off the chair and slip them on. “Your childhood.”

  “My childhood?” she asks, her attention immediately on me. “What about it?”

  I just stare at her. “You don’t remember?”

  “Remember what? Jesus, Asher, I don’t have time for this. I have a wedding—”

  “Asher? Why are you getting defensive with me? Last night we were talking and I asked you about your childhood and you insisted that if I dropped it, you’d tell me as soon as we woke up.”

  “I did no such thing,” she says, walking out of the bedroom.

  I follow her out. “You absolutely did. Last night, we were celebrating with champagne after we had mind-blowing vanilla sex—”

  “Well, champagne makes me crazy drunk. That’s why I started drinking margaritas. You should just forget everything I said because chances are I was talking out my ass.”

  “Fuck that.”

  She whirls around at my language. “Excuse me?”