by Sam Mariano
“Nope, this is our life,” he tells me. “You like it?”
“I…. Yes,” I admit.
“Good,” he says simply, then goes back to eating.
I guess I shouldn’t waste this whole dream second-guessing everything. Normally the dreams this real are about my mom, about her still being alive. Those still hit me sometimes, and they feel exactly like this. I’m going about my normal life, but something feels off. She’s there, she’s alive, she’s a part of my life, but there is some part of me that can’t trust it, that can’t completely enjoy it because my awake brain knows it isn’t real.
But if I’m here, what the hell?
Pushing back my chair, I decide if I’m going to get Derek for a husband and a cute kid in the next room, I’m going to enjoy it until reality forces me to stop.
Derek looks up in surprise as I walk over, then he leans back to make room as I throw a leg over his chair and sit down so I’m straddling him. My blood heats up being this close to him, his handsome face only a few inches from mine. His blue eyes dance with interest as I sit here, feeling his heat, wearing his dress shirt. I run my fingers through his hair, lamenting its lack of length, but I don’t dwell. I lean in, close my eyes, and kiss the literal man of my dreams.
Derek’s hand moves behind my head, pulling me deeper into the kiss. His tongue pushes at the seam of my lips until I open, and as his tongue sweeps into my mouth, chills travel down my spine, and a blinding white light explodes in my aching head.
There they are—the fireworks. I can feel his kiss in my head, in my chest, low in my stomach, between my legs. His kiss travels and leaves his mark everywhere. I sigh against his mouth, so relieved that my cynical self was wrong. So relieved that I can still feel this with him. His rough hand slides up under the shirt, up my bare back, and he pulls me closer. My faint arousal intensifies, and I move my hips against him, seeking friction.
“You taste like cider,” he murmurs against my mouth.
“You feel like heaven,” I tell him.
He fists his hand in my hair, tugging my head to the side and burying his face in my neck, leaving a trail of kisses, then nipping at my ear. A faint moan escapes me, pleasure coursing through my body, my heart soaring. I forgot what this felt like. God, he is intoxicating.
“Kiss me,” I request.
His hand is still fisted in my hair, but now he brings my mouth back to his and invades it just the way I want him to. I can feel his hardness between my legs, and since I’m not wearing panties, I think about how close he is to being inside me. I reach down to rub him through his sweats and he groans, muttering, “Oh, fuck,” and grabbing my wrist to stop me.
I don’t know why he’s stopping me. “I want you inside me,” I tell him.
“Uh…” He glances at the open arch separating us from the living room, and I realize he probably can’t fuck me in the chair when our daughter could hear in the next room.
Wait. Why would we have to worry about that in a dream? Dream children have perfect behavior and imaginary noise-cancelling headphones if necessary, fully enabling their parents to have undetected breakfast sex in the kitchen.
I narrow my eyes at him suspiciously, then reach over and pinch the skin on my arm. I feel the pinch, but I can’t decide if that’s adequate proof that I’m not dreaming.
I know what is. Pointing at Derek, I tell him, “You don’t say a word.”
Then I climb off him and walk over to arch, leaning back into the living room where the little girl is still watching cartoons and eating Froot Loops.
“Cassidy, what did your dad offer you to call me mom?”
“Five dollars,” she calls back.
“Motherfucker,” I whisper to myself, spinning around and glaring daggers at Derek.
He’s already standing up, holding a hand out to halt me. “Before you flip out, let me—”
“You are psychotic,” I tell him, eyes wide. “You had me half-convinced I was losing my goddamn mind, Derek!”
As if he can possibly defend this, he says, “Remember last night when you asked me if I had a time machine? I had to make do with what I had. I don’t have a time machine, but since you walked in this kitchen, you’ve seen what it could be like with us, Nikki, and you’ve been happy.”
“You are a crazy person,” I tell him, still in complete disbelief. “I kissed you. Oh, my God. I have a boyfriend! Dammit, Derek. Where is my phone?”
“It’s probably dead. I never took it out of your purse.”
Grasping my head in my hands, I try to recall last night. I left cocktail hour with Derek, he said he wanted to go for a ride. “I never made it back to the wedding, did I? I missed my father’s wedding reception.”
“You were trashed, Nikki. You were in no condition to be there. I’m sorry, but you weren’t.”
“Because of you,” I tell him, glaring.
“I realize that, and I’m sorry. I didn’t think… I didn’t think it would go down like that. I didn’t think just seeing me would upset you so much, not after all this time.”
“So, you thought it would be a good idea to kidnap me, drag me back to this miserable little town, pay your daughter to go along with this charade, and pretend we were one big happy family?”
Shrugging, he says, “I played the cards I was dealt.”
“I want to punch you in the face,” I inform him. Turning around, I head toward the bedroom to retrieve my phone. Now that I know this isn’t a dream and I’m not losing my mind, I am freaking out. Not only did I just kiss Derek and tell him I wanted him inside me, but I missed my father’s wedding reception and abandoned my boyfriend there all by himself—all so my ex could kidnap me and trick me into thinking I had a family with him.
This is absolutely crazy. Only Derek can usher this level of craziness into my life.
Back inside his bedroom, I pause for a moment to look around. This is Derek’s room. Where he sleeps every night. There is no sign of Kayla—there wouldn’t be, otherwise even he wouldn’t be crazy enough to do what he did last night. Even if they aren’t together though, there should be some sign of her in this house. Family photos, perhaps? There are no family photos on the wall in this room, nothing on the wall at all. It’s a bachelor’s bedroom, lacking warmth, existing only to sleep in. I recognize it, because I have one just like it. I didn’t check the walls in the living room or the hallway because I wasn’t thinking of it, but they clearly aren’t together anymore.
I can’t help rolling my eyes unkindly. “What a shocker,” I mutter.
Dumbass. Throwing me away for that. Ugh. Where is my dress? Where is my purse? I need to get the hell out of here.
Chapter Eight
The bedroom door closes behind me with a click, and I can feel Derek behind me.
Without turning around, I demand, “Where did you put my things?”
Instead of answering, he moves closer, has the nerve to touch my waist, and says, “Nikki, look at me.”
“Stop calling me that,” I snap, turning to glare at him over my shoulder.
“I’ll never stop calling you that,” he informs me. “That’s your name. Nicole is bitter, hurt, and scared. Nikki is brave, fierce, and loving—even if she doesn’t want to admit it. Nicole’s gonna miss out on her whole life. Nikki’s smarter than that. I’m only gonna talk to Nikki.”
Something like fear rolls over me that after six years apart, he can still read me like that. I’m in love with my well-built walls, and here he comes, walking right through them like they’re nothing. Backing away, I try to reinforce them. “Stop it. You do not know me anymore.”
“Tell me I’m wrong then,” he says calmly, taking just as many steps toward me as I took away from him. “Because I’ve gotta tell you, I think your performance at cocktail hour caught me right up. I’m sorry I hurt you that much, Nikki, I am. But I’m not going to stand back and watch you miss out on everything because I fucked you up. That’s not gonna happen.”
That’s a senseless thing
to argue with, but I do anyway. I just want to rage against him. It doesn’t have to make sense. “You can’t stop me. You don’t control me, Derek.”
He laughs lightly, but it’s more knowing than amused. “Oh, yes I do, Nikki. I’ve been controlling you without even being in your life for the last six years, and I didn’t even know I was doing it. That ends now. If I’m gonna control you, it should be fun for both of us, don’t you think?”
Awareness shudders through me when I recognize the look in his eye. Predatory in the sexiest way. My legs are right up against his mattress, so I can’t back up any further. “Don’t you dare,” I warn him.
Responding directly to my telling him not to, Derek pushes me back onto his bed. My stomach rocks as he climbs on top of me, straddling my hips. My yelling at him has done nothing to ease the hardness between his legs, and he pushes himself against me, letting me feel it. An answering jolt of arousal hits me, but I do my best to ignore it.
“Get off me,” I mutter.
He does just the opposite, grabbing my hands, twining our fingers together and pushing them over my head as he leans closer. “Nope, not gonna do that,” he tells me, brushing his lips across my jaw.
“You’re the devil and I hate you,” I inform him, even as gooseflesh rises up all over my body.
“That’s all right,” he says casually, letting go of one of my hands and trailing it down between our bodies, stopping at the juncture of my thighs. My lack of panties is now part blessing, part curse, as Derek cups me in his hand and steals the breath from my lungs. “You’ve hated me before.”
“I am not going to—”
I’m just about to tell him I’m not going to fuck him because he’s a liar and I hate him, but his finger slides inside me, and I’m too engulfed by pleasure to speak. Instead of letting me toss more angry words at him, Derek steals all my words, covering my mouth with his and kissing me hard. Just his lips on mine turns my blood into liquid heat, but his kiss combined with the finger he currently has inside me is too much. It’s been too long since anyone turned me on like this—it’s been as long as we’ve been apart. I want to object, but I don’t. He always makes me want the worst things.
Shocks of pleasure move through me as he fondles me, as he kisses me, as he temporarily obliterates the memories of all the pain he put me through and gives me a bandage for it.
I take the bandage. I let my legs spread wider to give him more space between them, sighing at the pleasure he stokes. Oh, God, he always feels so good. Physically, at least. Pleasure builds rapidly, like my body doesn’t know what to do with this kind of stimulation. Like it has forgotten, like it has been asleep, and now he’s back to wake it up. Like it’s been starving, and he’s finally providing it nourishment.
Damn you, body.
I want to curse him, but I come for him instead. I come hard and fast—almost embarrassingly fast. My legs shake and I can’t keep from holding onto him, burying my face in his broad, muscular shoulder as my body shudders.
I fall back on the bed, relaxed despite being in Hell. Then his skilled fingers are no longer between my legs, but pushing the buttons through my dress shirt—or, his dress shirt.
“What are you doing?” I ask, mildly mindless.
“I’m going to take this shirt off you so I can kiss you all over your naked body.”
Mm, that sounds so nice.
“This means nothing,” I inform him. “Absolutely nothing.”
Smirking faintly, he says, “Noted.”
“I mean it. You may as well be a vibrator with lips. I feel nothing for you except disdain.”
“That’s fine,” he assures me. “I’m still going to fuck you until you come again. I think Bethany ordered two orgasms for you, didn’t she?”
“I don’t think you should fuck me,” I tell him, shaking my head. “That sounds like—”
I’m about to tell him what a terrible idea that is, but the shirt is unbuttoned, and before I can get it out he bends his head and takes my nipple into his mouth, igniting yet another livewire of passion inside my veins. I can’t remember why this is a bad idea. It feels like such a good idea.
It’s surreal, this moment. Derek’s beautiful lips on my body, his hands skimming my sides. I can’t believe this is real. He pops off my breast and comes back to kiss me on the mouth, grabbing one of my hands and pushing it down between his legs. Excitement shoots through me, feeling how hard he is for me. God, I love to be wanted by him. I rub him through his pants for a minute, but then I push my hand down inside the waistband so I can touch him, skin to skin. He groans against my lips when my fingers close around him, when I squeeze the head and start tugging.
“Fuck, Nikki.”
Just hearing my name from his lips is like the sweetest sin there could possibly be. Just that is forbidden, something I’ve worked so hard to make myself stop wanting to hear. Then he’s kissing me again, and I missed this so much. I missed the force of Derek’s kisses. Other men don’t kiss like this, with this passion, like a hurricane of pleasure, sweeping me off solid ground and sucking me into his storm.
Derek is a storm, and he’s the storm that nearly wrecked me. The storm I’ve spent literally years recovering from. That should scare me. No, it should terrify me. I know the destruction this man is capable of, and I know that what is happening right now is how it all starts. I’ve been here before. I need to stop and escape while I’m still all in one piece.
I’m almost brought out of it, but as if he can sense that, he pulls back just long enough to shove down his pants.
No, no, no, no, this is a terrible, no-good, bad idea!
Derek loves terrible, no-good, bad ideas. Without giving me time to get my brain back under control, he pushes his cock inside me. I gasp, struggling to breathe as he invades me. I reach overhead for purchase, my whole body engulfed in the pleasure of hurricane Derek.
“Oh, God,” I murmur weakly, hooking my leg around him. I can’t push him away when all I want is to draw him closer. I want to, but I can’t.
“You feel so fucking good, Nikki,” he tells me, his free hand moving behind my neck so he can pull me back into a kiss.
I can’t think. I’m so full of pleasure, so full of him. I know this is a mistake, I know it is. I know I’ll regret it. I’ve been here before. I know he’ll destroy me if I let him, but I won’t let him this time. This means nothing. This is just sex.
He pulls back, then pistons his hips forward, planting himself inside me with more force. I squirm, reaching again for something to grab onto above me. I need a pillow or something to hold as he thrusts inside me, but we’re sideways on the bed, so there’s nothing but flat mattress and down blanket.
As I tell myself how fine this is, as my ex-boyfriend’s dick invades me again and again, suppressed emotions try to break free from their necessary prisons. Affection tries to infiltrate this moment, but it needs to be meaningless. It has to mean nothing. Derek already meant everything to me once, and I know how that story ends.
“Oh, God. Kiss me,” I tell him, trying to outrun my thoughts.
He wastes no time obeying, his cock moving inside me while his tongue storms the gates of my mouth. I open for him, letting him sweep me back up, letting him set off fireworks in my mind.
After a few more minutes of tenderness, he pulls out of me, rolls me over, and guides me onto all fours. He gathers up a fistful of my hair, holding on as he drives into me once more, harder this time. I cry out, then remember there’s a child in the living room, so I should try to keep it down. I fall down on my forearms, resting my forehead on the mattress and pushing my ass back, meeting him thrust for thrust. Tension builds in my core with every brutal thrust, my pleasure ratcheting up, and up, and up.
“You like that, Nikki?” he asks roughly.
“Yes,” I say, practically panting as I struggle to keep pace with him. I haven’t been fucked like this in so long, I had actually forgotten how it felt. I won’t forget again soon.
“Goo
d. Take it, baby. Take it all.”
My eyes roll back as Derek pounds inside me hard and fast. True to his words, he doesn’t stop until I convulse with pleasure for a second time, all the strength leaving my body. I cry out into the blanket, trying to muffle the sound. I can still feel Derek’s fingers digging into my hip, so I know he hasn’t finished. He thrusts into my convulsing warmth three more times, then groans with his own release.
My skin is hot, my body is weak, and my mind can’t even with me right now, so it has retired until all this is over. It’s okay, Brain, I get it. I don’t need a brain right now anyway; I’m just a mindless blob of satisfaction.
Derek moves over into what must be his spot, the spot next to where I slept last night. He reaches down and drags me up the bed until I’m lying beside him. I make him do all the work. I’m zapped for energy. My head is pounding again, my stomach rocking. People with hangovers probably shouldn’t attempt doggy style, and my body is currently really angry about it, while also being deeply satisfied. My body isn’t sure how it’s supposed to feel.
My heart is, though. Derek’s strong arms are wrapped securely around me, he’s snuggling me against his naked body… right here in this moment, my heart feels just fine.
Chapter Nine
When my eyes open this time, my head doesn’t feel like exploding. My mouth is still as dry as a ball of cotton, but my stomach feels better. It feels empty. I don’t know what time it is, but I’m realizing I didn’t eat much of the breakfast Derek made me.
Shit. Derek. I glance back at the spot he was in when I fell asleep, but he’s not there anymore.
I still feel fogged from the alcohol, but now there’s an additional weight on my shoulders. The weight of bad decisions. That should not have happened for so many reasons. For every reason. This day has been insanity. The last 24 hours of my life has been… just utter chaos.
About as long as Derek has been back in my life. No coincidence, that.
Peeling back the down blanket he must have pulled up over me before he left the room, I sit up on the edge of the bed and let my bare feet touch the ground. I need to at least check in with my life. By bringing me here, Derek effectively cut me off from my whole life. I find my purse and dig out my phone, but it’s dead. The battery was low before I lost my damned mind, so I shouldn’t be surprised.
