by Lane, Nina
I can’t take it. I’m sweating. I’m about to explode.
Dean pushes his groin against my hip before pulling away from me, a shudder coursing through him.
“But you need to go now,” he mutters, the taut note in his voice betraying his razor-thin control. He pushes up from the bed with a wince of discomfort.
Even with this dictate of his, I’m beginning to realize he wouldn’t care if my legs are as hairy as a Wookiee’s. I’m beginning to think I wouldn’t care either.
Not if he plunges that thick cock into me and pumps like a well-oiled machine while rubbing my clit and whispering all sorts of dirty things in that deep voice of his… “Come on, baby, come all over my cock… gonna fuck you so hard, just the way you like it… squeeze your pussy… tighter…”
I press my hands to my flaming cheeks. I’m in serious danger of flinging myself on him and pulling off his trousers. Sinking down onto his cock and writhing up and down until I scream.
I could do it. Right now. Not even Dean has enough self-control to resist my full-force seduction. Especially not when we’re both burning so hot it’s like high noon in the desert here. He wouldn’t stand a chance.
On the other hand, the love of my life has a plan that involves the two of us alone after a long dry spell and over a month of romantic courting. And I have a bunch of sexy lingerie that he hasn’t seen in person yet. If I manage to restrain myself now, I could be ready for him right at the cusp of this insanely erotic weekend he has planned.
“Yes, I… um, I’d better go,” I whisper. I can’t believe I just said that.
“Yeah.” He rests his elbows on his knees and shoves his hands into his hair. His whole body is rigid.
“Okay.” I manage to get to my feet. I feel like I’m swimming against a rip current, moving against an opposing force. I don’t want to leave any more than I want to stop breathing. “I guess I’ll… I’ll go now.”
“Okay.” His voice is tight enough to snap.
“Okay.” I step away from the bed, all slippery and tense between my legs. I might come just from walking home. I might come before I walk out the door.
I grab a glass of water from the table and down it in three swallows before I pick up my bag. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”
Dean pushes up from the bed and yanks open the door. As I cross to it, he steps forward, as if he’s about to reach for me. Then he stops. Leans forward and presses a hard kiss on my mouth that makes my entire body flame. He lifts his head, his eyes dark as midnight.
“Go,” he growls.
Somehow, incomprehensibly, I walk out the door.
CHAPTER SIX
Dean
he’s gone. I pound my head against the closed door. She left less than a minute ago, and it’s like someone is squeezing the air out of my lungs. I need that woman in order to breathe.
I slam the locks on the door. Chain and deadbolt. Have to lock myself in or I’ll break out after her. I want to grab her and shove her up against the nearest wall. Rip her clothes off and fuck her until the earth trembles and the stars explode. Until the universe shatters.
I deserve a goddamn medal for my self-control. I can’t think. My blood is on fire. My cock is so hard it’s about to bust my fly open. And I just let my hot, sweet wife walk away from me. I told her to go.
I bang my head against the door again. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
I can still feel her. Smell her. Taste her.
I push away from the door and get my phone. My fingers flex. She’d run back if I called. She’s as jacked up as I am. I know all her little gasps and squirms. I know how close she was. She’d have come from one flick of my finger on her clit. She’d have come hard.
With a groan, I throw the phone back onto the bed. Grab a towel from the bathroom before shoving my pants and boxers down. I’ve spent the last month jerking off every night like a fifteen-year-old. I’ve got it down to a damn science, but it’s nothing compared to how it feels with Liv.
Right now it takes me about five seconds to come. Still not much relief. I want her.
After changing into pajama bottoms, I collapse on the bed. I’m still half-hard. I bury my face into the spot where Liv was. The pillow smells like her, fragrant and peachy.
Christ, I missed her. I’d had visions of our reunion—hot, sweaty, naked visions. Liv all damp and lusty, her breath catching in her throat the way it does when she gets too overwhelmed to speak. Squirming underneath me. Full, round breasts with those tight nipples that I want to suck until she begs me to fuck her…
I inhale a few breaths. I’d gotten the idea a week ago and spent the time before my return putting the plan into place. Five thousand miles away, it sounded romantic as hell to stay at a hotel while dating my beautiful wife again and planning a sexy weekend.
I groan. Don’t know how long I lie there on the bed, trying to figure out how I’m going to survive this. Even one day sounds like an eternity.
My phone rings. I shove up and grab it. Liv.
“Hi.” Her voice is breathless.
My cock twitches again. I tighten my grip on the phone.
“Hi.”
“Just wanted to let you know I got home okay.”
“Good. Thanks.”
“I’m so glad you’re back.”
“Me too.”
We both fall silent for a minute, the air thick between us.
“So, you never did finish telling me about that underground radar system,” Liv finally remarks.
“The…”
“You mentioned it during dinner. The radar you might use on the dig.”
“Uh… yeah.” Wondering why she’s interested now, I try to shift my brain to archeology and science. Maybe this will take my mind off the fact that I’m sleeping alone tonight. Again.
“I’m going to make a trip to a Cistercian monastery in France,” I tell Liv. “Valmagne. They’re doing some work with ground-penetrating radar. GPR.”
“What does that do?”
“It’s a noninvasive way of studying the structure before starting a more systematic excavation plan.”
“How does it work?”
“The equipment reflects radar waves off subsurface features and transmits them back to a computer. So before excavation, you first get a geophysical map of a large area of land and whatever is buried underground.”
“Impressive.”
“It works well, but sometimes it’s hard to get a clear image. The geophysicists have run into some problems in Valmagne because the limestone foundations of the monastery don’t give a good dielectric contrast with the carbonate-derived soil. Now they’re trying an enhanced processing system that’s given them some good images of the subsurface of the church. They want my opinion on the possibility that Gothic piers were built over preexisting Romanesque foundations.”
“Hmm…”
A thought suddenly hits me.
“Liv, are you touching yourself?”
“What?”
“You are, aren’t you? You’re masturbating while I talk about ground-penetrating radar.”
“I most certainly am not. What kind of freak do you think I am?”
“You’re my very hot, sexy freak.” I can’t help grinning, even as my prick starts to harden. An image flashes in my head—my wife splayed out on the sofa, her panties tangled around her thighs as she rubs her pussy.
“How close are you?” I ask.
“I am not touching myself.”
“What’re you doing, then?”
“Just… just sitting here. Listening.”
“What if I told you I had to jerk off thirty seconds after you left?”
She inhales sharply. “You did?”
“Uh huh. Couldn’t stop thinking about you. Wanted to rip your clothes off, kiss your gorgeous body all over, lick your nip
ples, bite your neck, then spread your legs so I could thrust into you and fuck you hard for a thousand days.”
“God, Dean.”
“But you’re not touching yourself.”
“Well, I am now.”
Heat bolts through me. My cock swells into full hardness.
“Are you?” Liv whispers in my ear.
I push my pants down and grasp my erection. “I am now.”
“Oh…” She lets out one of those breathy little sighs that fires my blood.
I tighten my fist on my shaft. “Tell me.”
“Oh, Dean. I want you so badly. I missed you so much. And I love this return to the beginning, but… are you sure you want to wait one second more?”
“I’m sure I’m about to explode.” My cock is starting to throb. I want Liv back where she was. “Uh, transept chapels. Spherical wave divergence. Gothic hemicycle piers.”
She giggles. “Keep going.”
“My sexy wife sitting on my cock. Riding me until we both come like rockets.”
She sucks in another breath.
“Are you naked?” I ask.
“From the waist down. I have a camisole top on.” She pauses. “Um, I just took a quick shower and shaved my legs.”
I have no idea why she told me that, but I don’t care. It’s a crystal-clear picture. She’s on the sofa in our living room. One bare leg over the arm of the sofa, the other foot on the floor. Spread open. Wet. Hungry. No bra. Hard nipples poking against her shirt. Eyes dark and heavy. Hair loose around her shoulders. Skin flushed pink. One hand between her legs.
“You know I fantasized about us,” I say. “Did you?”
“Yes,” she whispers.
“Tell me.”
“I’d press my face into your pillow and get on my knees. Spread my legs and push my ass up.”
I groan. There are few sights I like better than Liv’s round ass slamming against me as I fuck her from behind.
“I’d reach down to rub my clit while imagining you all hot and hard behind me,” she continues, her words punctuated by quick breaths. “Sometimes I’d grab another pillow and push it between my legs. Hump it while wishing it was your cock.”
Damn. I squeeze my shaft, my balls aching. Pressure tightens my whole body.
“What’re you doing now?” I ask.
“Playing with my nipples. Wishing you could lick them.”
“Ah, fuck…” My blood boils. “Touch your pussy.”
“Dean, I’m so wet. I almost creamed in my panties the second you kissed me.”
“Do it now.”
“Talk to me,” she whispers. “The dirty stuff. If I can’t have you yet, I want you to fuck me with your voice.”
Christ. I will crawl over fire and broken glass for this woman.
I shut my eyes. She fills my vision. My mind. Every fucking part of me.
“Soon you’re getting on your knees in front of me,” I tell her. “Naked except for tight cotton panties that rub against your pussy. You’re going to squeeze your pretty tits together so I can push my cock between them and fuck them. Thrusting into that hot, damp valley all the way up to your throat.
“I’ll shoot hard all over you, like a goddamn geyser. My come will drip off your nipples before I make you rub it in. Then you’re going to lick my cock clean, swiping your tongue over the shaft and taking it all the way into your greedy mouth.”
“Oh, my God, Dean…”
“Your clit will be throbbing, and you’ll gasp and squirm and try to get yourself off, but I won’t let you. Then you’re going to turn around and bend over the arm of the sofa so I can pull your panties down and spank your gorgeous ass.”
She moans. I’m about to shoot all over my hand, and I’m just warming up.
“You’re going to spread your legs to show me your wet slit.” The images flash in my brain like fire. “I’ll let you finger yourself, but you won’t be allowed to come. You’ll writhe around, pleading with me, rubbing your nipples against the sofa cushion. You’ll be so turned on your juices will drip down your thighs. Then I’m going to spank your ass until your cheeks are red and burning. You’ll be gasping, hungry, begging for my cock.”
“I want it. I want you…”
“I’ll put my cock right at your slit and ease slowly inside you, watching my shaft disappear into your sweet, tight hole while you push backward and fuck yourself on me…”
“Oh, Dean, let me,” Liv gasps. “I’m… I want to come. Please, I…”
“Do you see it?” I work my prick faster, the urgency at boiling point. “See yourself bent over the sofa, legs spread wide with my cock plunging in and out of you while your ass slaps against me and you tighten your pussy around my shaft… fuck.”
I spurt all over my hand and stomach, an explosion of heat. Liv moans heavily against my ear. I see her shuddering, quaking, her thighs clamping around her hand as she works all the sensations from her clit.
The air fills with the rasp of our breathing. My heart pounds against my ribs.
“I…” Liv pulls in a breath. “I’m really enjoying dating you again.”
I struggle to grab a coherent thought. “Just wait until I get you back here.”
“But I can’t wait.” Though she groans the words, there’s a smile in her voice. “You know I love you like peanut butter loves jelly.”
“You know I can’t wait to get you all sticky again.”
Liv laughs. After we end the call, I lean back on the pillows and close my eyes. Though I’m still aching with the need to bury myself deep inside my wife, there’s also a heavy sense of satisfaction. The feeling that I’m finally getting it right.
My proposal to Liv was the worst ever. In fact, it wasn’t even a proposal. I knew she didn’t care about extravagant gestures, which was a relief since I wasn’t good at the romantic stuff. But even I could have done better than that.
The summer after my visiting professorship in Madison ended, nine months into our relationship, Liv and I drove to Pennsylvania, where my next job at the University of Pennsylvania was located. We had plans to continue our relationship long-distance until Liv graduated, and then we’d figure out our next step. En route to the university, we stopped in a small town with a dozen antique shops catering to tourists.
After lunch, we walked around town and visited a few of the cluttered shops. I was looking at some old camera equipment, and Liv was busy examining the contents of a glass case near the front.
I heard her talking to the owner, a friendly, middle-aged woman with a nametag that read Mrs. Bird. I wandered over to see what they were discussing.
“It’s a cameo ring.” Liv held out a silver ring topped with a delicate, carved silhouette of a woman with flowing hair.
“A unique one,” Mrs. Bird added. “Late nineteenth century, rose gold, with a carved shell cameo. Undamaged, as you can see. Notice the detail on the woman’s dress too, the open flower near her collar.”
Liv slipped the ring onto her finger and spread out her hand. “My mother used to have something like this. It belonged to her mother, I think. I don’t know what happened to it.”
“Does it fit, Cinderella?” I asked.
Mrs. Bird smiled. Liv twisted the ring and nodded.
“How much is it?” she asked Mrs. Bird.
The owner glanced at the tag inside the counter. “Nine hundred dollars.”
“Oh.” Liv tugged the ring off. “It’s lovely, but I’m afraid that’s too much.”
“We’ll take it.” I pulled out my wallet.
“Dean—”
“I haven’t gotten you an engagement ring yet.” The words just came out.
Liv stared at me. My stomach twisted.
“Uh, if you… if you want one, that is,” I stammered. “An engagement ring. I mean, if we… I… want to… you k
now. Get married.”
Mrs. Bird chirped with excitement. Liv blinked. I started to sweat. I wanted Liv with a force that hurt, needed her like I needed air, loved her beyond reason. But not until that instant did I realize I couldn’t imagine the rest of my life without her.
“Dean—”
“Ring it up, please.” I handed Mrs. Bird my credit card.
“Oh, what a romantic gift!” Mrs. Bird fluttered over to run my card through the machine. “Congratulations to both of you.”
Liv was quiet as I finished paying and Mrs. Bird packed up the ring in a little box. When we stepped back outside, Liv put her hand on my arm.
“It doesn’t have to be an engagement ring,” I said quickly. “It can just be a…” Shit, what was another reason for a ring? “A… friendship ring.”
“Dean, I love you.”
My heart stopped as I waited for the “but.”
Liv smiled that beautiful smile that hit me in the middle of my chest every single time.
“And I would love to be your wife,” she said.
But…?
She looked at me expectantly. I swallowed hard.
“But?” I asked.
“What?”
“You would love to be my wife, but… what?”
Liv looked baffled. “But nothing.”
“You would love to be my wife, period?”
“Yes.” A frown creased her forehead. “You do want us to get married, don’t you?”
Jesus, West, pull it together.
Because I couldn’t stammer out a sentence, I just grabbed her and hauled her against me. I planted a deep kiss on her that was probably indecent in public. Then I eased away to look into her brown eyes.
My girlfriend. My fiancée. My beauty.
I wanted her to be my wife as soon as possible, but I knew women had ideas about big weddings and fancy dresses. Though I didn’t think Liv ever had, I asked her what kind of wedding she wanted.
“One that ends with us married,” she said.
I thought I should do something extravagant to make up for my pitiful excuse of a proposal, so I contacted an old friend whose father owned a vineyard in the Loire. After a few months of making arrangements, Liv and I went to France in July and were married on the villa’s terrace by the cleric of the local church.
