by B. L. Berry
So tonight is a landmark, so to speak.
The buzzer to my condo pierces obnoxiously and I look at the clock. He’s early.
I run to the wall and push the button and unlock my front door, granting him access. And before I know it, he’s at my doorstep in record time.
“Hey, handsome,” I say, swinging the door open and leaning in for a welcoming kiss.
But he doesn’t move to return the kiss. Simon quickly slams the door and grabs my shoulders tightly, his face awash with panic. “I’m being followed.”
“Huh? What are you talking about?”
“I’m serious, Elyse. My car was being trailed by a black SUV. I haven’t been able to shake this feeling that someone has been watching me.” His chest heaves rapidly and there is genuine panic on his face.
Huh? Why would anyone want to follow him?
“You’re just being paranoid.” I tenderly place my hand on his forearm but he pulls away.
“No, I’m not. I took random streets to get here. Whoever it was followed me turn for turn and parked one block down from me. So my car is over on Belmont and I took a few alleys to get here.”
I brush my hand over his forehead, wiping the thin sheen of sweat above his brow. When Simon walks to the window, I follow him and peer through the blinds, trying to catch a glimpse of anything remotely suspicious, but see nothing.
“Should we call the police?” I suggest, though I still think he’s being paranoid.
“No? I don’t know. Maybe?” He restlessly paces around my tiny living room.
“Why would anyone be following you?” I close the space between us and take his hand, trying to ease his worried mind.
“I don’t know?”
His nerves are on end and I hate seeing him this jittery. I say the only thing that I think can help him in this moment, instantly regretting the words as they pass my lips.
“Do you want to stay in tonight?”
Please don’t take me up on this offer!
“Would that be a problem? I know we were going to meet up with Olivia later on, I just … I don’t know now.”
My heart sinks and I try not to let the disappointment show on my face. “Yeah … no problem. We can get food delivered and go dancing another time.”
“Dancing?” he questions uncomfortably in a curt tone. “I don’t dance.”
“Yes, you do. I met you at a night club, remember?”
He just stands there, shaking his head. If this is all a rouse to get out of meeting my friends, I am seriously going to be pissed off.
“We may have met there, but I guarantee you never once saw me dance.”
I rack my brain trying to remember and he’s absolutely right. Aside from glances across the room, he didn’t come up to me until I stepped off of the dance floor to get a drink.
“Come on, I’ve seen how you move in the bedroom. I bet you’re a killer on the dance floor.” I give him a sly, seductive smile and move my hands down his hips, forcing him to sway with me.
“Nuh-uh. Simon St. John does … not … dance.” He wraps his arms around my waist and pulls me flush against his body. I roll up on my toes to kiss him softly. Slowly. While his body may not dance, his tongue most certainly does. When I pull back and break our kiss, I watch the tension slip away.
“Thanks, babe.” He stops to look at me, I mean really look at me, and I go weak in the knees. “You look radiant tonight, Elyse.”
I quickly fire off a text to Olivia and Alex canceling our plans and promptly shut my phone off. If I don’t, I’m going to be inundated with her incessant badgering all night long and I want to make the most of the time Simon and I do have tonight.
Our evening is spent curled up on the couch, eating Thai food right from the takeout cartons and watching one of my guilty pleasure movies — Mean Girls. Simon is impressed that my movie quotability is on par with his of Top Gun though he’s been feigning annoyance the past twenty minutes.
By the time The Plastics are on stage sporting nothing but their slutty Santa suits, Simon turns to me and playfully says, “Would you be quiet already? I don’t want to miss any of Gretchen Wieners’ insightful and prolific one-liners.”
“There is nothing insightful and prolific about a girl named Wieners,” I retort in a fit of laughter.
“You hush.” A wicked smile plays at his lips.
“Make me.”
“Oh?” In a flash, he picks me up in his arms and carries me into my bedroom like a baby.
When he tosses me onto the bed, my dress rides up to my waist and his eyes go wide when he realizes I’m not wearing any panties.
“You were going to go out like that tonight?” I bite my lower lip and subtly nod. He shakes his head in disbelief. “You are something else, woman.”
Ever so slowly, he crawls up my body. When his lips finally meet mine, we savor the moment. Our playfulness escapes the room and we are so incredibly lost in this kiss.
We take our time, undressing one another, and when I lay back against my pillow, he pulls a piece of hair from my eyes and studies my face. The tone of everything between us shifts … words unspoken, endearing glances, everything takes on new meaning.
I faintly nod, letting him know I’m ready, then hook my legs around his ankles, lifting my hips to meet his. The moment Simon’s lips graze my chest, he pushes himself inside of me and threads his fingers between mine. We are slow, appreciating the moment between us. It’s fragile and frightening and inexplicable.
Simon brings my arms above my head then trails his hands down my body. Then, in a moment of self-restraint, he stills his hand once he reaches my waist. His eyes are soft and understanding and I couldn’t remember life before him if I even tried.
He pauses reverently, holding his body weight above me. His chest rises and falls as he breathes deeply, and I watch a small bead of sweat race from his temple down to his jawline.
“Elyse …”
My name is nothing more than a whisper, but it’s thick with affection and laced with intent. His gaze is so intense and I can feel it deep inside my bones. I know what he’s feeling, what’s on the edge of his mind. What he’s about to say. And I don’t want him to love me, at least not yet. But I also know I don’t get a say in the matter.
“Elyse, I …”
“Shh …” I slip my hand from his waist and press my index finger to his lips. And I hear the words he doesn’t say loud and clear, the words I don’t want to hear him say. Those words mean nothing without honorable action behind them. But rather, I want to share in the experience of what he’s feeling. Our eyes lock and I subtly nod my head because I feel it, too. His eyes tell me more than his mouth ever could.
And just like that, with our bodies intertwined, we stop having sex and start making love. Actually what we do is more than make love. It is akin to ripping the world into shreds and then putting it back together, piece by piece, in a beautiful mosaic.
I look above me in adoration of this man. He smiles and leans down to kiss me fully, deeply. His lips write silent poetry upon mine. An E.E. Cummings inspired piece. Full of unexpected punctuation.
Hidden emotion.
Double meanings.
Simon’s hot breath skims my skin as he tenderly kisses below my jawline, sending shivers throughout my body. And with that single shiver, I become his. We allow our bodies to do the talking, each of us finishing the other’s sentences with our hands.
We rock in time. Slow at first, finding a rhythm of push and pull, want and need, tame and feral. My fingertips trace Simon’s skin, playing his body like a concert pianist, drawing new depths of moans as I strike all the right chords.
Then in one continuous motion, he rolls onto his back and pulls me on top of him, never breaking our connection. This is the first time intimacy hasn’t been a fight for control with him.
I still and hold my body weight above him, looking deep into his eyes. I can tell he’s about to try and tell me again.
“Shh …”
I lean down, slipping my tongue between his lips and kissing him with requited fervor. Then we collide one final time and unravel in an overwhelmingly exquisite mess.
The sex was different. Beautiful. And I know he’s feeling it, too.
After we clean up, we lay back down on the bed and curl up under the covers. I love how the curve of my body fits perfectly within his. I love how every time with him feels like the very first time, full of excitement and curiosity and pure unbridled passion. I love how he makes me feel like the only woman in the entire universe.
It’s overwhelming.
And that feeling is wonderful and terrifying all at once.
It’s quiet. And neither of us feels the need to speak, but I do anyway remembering the way he looked into my eyes.
“I’m afraid to fall in love again,” I blurt out, feeling the intense need to say something true without actually telling him my feelings. And it is the most honest thing I’ve said to him all night. This man who is so clearly full of love and life had everything stolen from him all too soon. I, on the other hand, have been burned by the hope of love.
“I know, baby … I know.” He runs his fingers through my hair, caressing me tenderly. The thoughtful and intense look in his eyes warms me to my core. “But I want you to know I’m not going anywhere, Elyse. I know I have it bad for you and what I feel is real. And if you share even a fraction of what I’m experiencing, I know that you are worth the wait. This … us … will be worth the wait. So when you’re ready to fall, fall, but know that I’m not going to catch you. I want to surrender to gravity and see where this glorious fall takes us. Wherever you are, that is where I want to be.” He tilts my chin up to look him in the eyes and gives me a kiss so ethereal, I’m not sure it even happened. “Elyse … you absolutely take my breath away.”
My insides soar at this man, his touch, his words.
“Then I will just have to breathe for both of us, Simon.”
I close my eyes, draw myself closer into Simon’s chest, and allow him to take up permanent residence in my heart.
Nine
The Sun and the Moon
It’s been a little more than three months since Simon first entered my life. He is, quite possibly, the only man capable of repairing the damage done by Jason Brinkmann. It has taken me close to three years to trust someone on an intimate level again, but Simon was worth waiting for. His presence has practically erased all of my meaningless hookups. He has mended my fractured heart and made me believe that I am capable of falling in love again. But what’s more impressive is that I’m not even remotely tired of him.
With his busy travel schedule, we do our best to be together whenever he’s in town. I’ve even cleared out a drawer for him just so he doesn’t have to make unnecessary trips back to his apartment. On more than one occasion I’ve found myself falling asleep in one of his shirts, just so I can have him close.
“That dress,” Simon comments as he stands next to me in front of my closet. “The dress from the night we met. I want you to wear that one tonight.”
I reach out and touch the soft cobalt fabric. I’ve always loved how this dress gently drapes over my curves and flows delicately as I walk. And I love how he loves it on me. There’s something different in the air tonight and I know that for whatever reason he wants it to be special.
“The blue dress, it is then.” I pull the hanger out from the closet and begin to unzip the dress.
“Hold on.” My skin tingles as Simon presses his fingers into my hips, pulling me closer to his body. I lean my back into his chest and nuzzle my head into the crook of his neck. He lowers his lips to my ear and husks, “I want you in it … just not yet.”
His hand slips beneath my black satin robe and he tenderly brushes his fingers against my stomach with a whisper of a touch. It takes me to a whole new level. My head rolls back onto his shoulder and a low moan erupts from my chest. I can’t help but melt into his body.
“I think I could be amenable to that discussion.” The dress drops to the floor and I turn around eagerly to meet his hungry eyes.
“No. It’s not a discussion.” Ever so slowly, he brings his hands around my neck and plays with a loose strand of hair before freeing my long locks from the messy knot on top of my head. “So beautiful …” he whispers as he runs his fingers through my tresses.
He leans in and presses his lips against my jawline and makes his way up to my mouth where he, frankly, kisses the shit out of me. I’ve been impatiently waiting to feel his lips on my body for days, and now that he’s finally here I want to show him just how much I missed him.
“God, I’ve missed you,” he breathes in my ear, plucking the words straight from my mind. He wraps his strong arms around my waist and kisses me just below my earlobe.
“You have no idea …”
And he doesn’t. This man has been my waking thought every day. He has infiltrated my dreams at night. And he has curled up and nestled himself right inside my soul.
“This has been the longest week of my life.”
He holds me at arm’s length for half a second before ravaging my mouth with his. The kiss leaves us both breathless, panting through our swollen lips. Simon draws me close into his body, tightening his arms around me.
“I want to be your obsession, Elyse.” He presses his lips against mine in a moment of haste. His words, his gesture, his demeanor catch me off guard and I once again surrender to the intoxicating taste of his mouth. Though this time his kiss is slow. Meaningful. Deliberate.
“I want to be the one who keeps you glowing all through the night until the sun comes up.” Simon loosens the silk knot of my robe and slips his hands inside, tracing the skin underneath my breasts. The storm quietly rises beneath my skin.
“The one who doesn’t take your breath away, but rather gives you a reason to breathe.” He leans down and kisses my collarbone before trailing his tongue down to my breast painfully slow.
“The one you can still feel on your skin after hours of being apart.” Simon kneels before me, hooking his thumbs inside my panties and pulls them down.
When I step out of them he looks up at me from the floor and murmurs, “I want to be your one and only.”
“You already are,” I whisper as his hands and mouth take me away. Seductively I lick my lips, and from the light in his eyes, I can tell that he knows it’s on.
“Lie down,” he commands gesturing to the bed. I obey and butterflies fill my stomach at the devious gleam in his blue eyes. “Let me show you how you’re supposed to be adored.”
Simon moves onto the bed and sits on his knees before me like he’s repenting for an unclaimed sin in a wordless worship. His lips crawl up me and he grazes his teeth against my hip bone. His strong hands stretch across my stomach, stopping just short of touching the underside of my breasts. Then he sits up and excitedly flicks his tongue against my left nipple, and then my right.
“Oh my god … Stop teasing me!” I playfully kick underneath his body and then he pins me against the bed with all of his weight. We both know I am completely at his mercy right now.
“Elyse, what do you want me to do?” The timbre in his voice makes me weak in the knees and I want nothing more than to stay the entire night at home between the sheets with this man.
What do I want him to do? Everything.
Laying naked before him, the look in his eyes gives me a quiet confidence.
“Put your hands on me.” The words spill from my mouth before I can give them a second thought. I’ve never been one to give orders or verbally tell a man how to touch me.
“Here?” He splays his palm flat across my stomach, and flashes me a wicked smile. “Or maybe here?” he says, sliding his hand slowly down to my thigh, before giving it a playful slap. I yelp, savoring the sting in surprise.
“Nuh-uh.” I take his hand and guide it to the sweet spot between my legs. With my hand on top of his, I show him exactly how I want to be touched. The perfect balance of delicacy
and pressure. The teasing at an increasing pace that brings me close to the edge before back off … just enough to drive me wild. And when I slip one finger inside my body he looks me straight in the eye, then follows suit, his finger moving in time with mine.
My body is both slack and tense. Calm and feral. A contradicting combination of sensory overload.
I surrender control to Simon and pull my finger out from my body so I can get lost in his touch. The next thing I know, he’s pulling my wrist and wraps his mouth around my finger, savoring the juices.
He shifts his weight on the bed and looks at my naked body like he’s about to devour me. “Tell me, Elyse. Tell me what you want me to do to this sweet fucking body of yours.” The mere cadence and low growl in his voice nearly unravel me.
“Lick it.”
He tilts his head curiously at me with a mischievous glint in his eye. “Lick what?”
My chest heaves and I don’t have time for this intermission. I need him and I need him now.
“My pussy. I want you to lick my pussy.” I’m surprised by my confidence as the words pass my lips. I’ve never been a dirty talker, but I can certainly play along.
The edges of Simon’s mouth curl up wickedly and he licks his lips, never breaking eye contact. He loves it when I know what I want and I’m not afraid to demand it. “Tsk, tsk, tsk … That’s such a dirty word coming from such a pretty mouth.” He spreads my legs further apart with his hands and admires my body before stroking my tender, aching skin.
“No,” I breathe restlessly.
“No?” He stops, pulling his hand away and my body instantly craves his touch once more.
“No, it’s not a dirty word,” I pant. “It’s a word so lovely it deserves to be tasted.”
I hear him moan softly and I immediately feel his tongue swirling over my clit and moving deep into my body. Heat rises under my skin and I rock my hips against his face unashamed, only to feel him pin my legs down with his strong arms restricting my movements.
