by Jillian Dodd
My lips crash into hers. I can barely maintain control, like that kind of fury that makes you see red.
Only this is a fury for her.
I pin her arms against the door, push up her dress, and slide my fingers roughly across her pussy.
Our lips never leave one another’s as I fuck her up against the door.
A few minutes later, we collapse onto the bed.
“You’re amazing,” I tell her.
“You’re pretty amazing yourself. The way you picked me up. It was different.”
“Different how?”
“I mean, not to compare you to my ex, but he wasn’t a very big guy. Only about five-nine. My height.”
I grin.
“Why are you grinning at me?”
“I’m six-three,” is all I say.
“If you’re wondering if you’re bigger, here,” she reaches down, grabbing my balls. “The answer is a resounding yes. I also like how when you pick me up you feel solid. Not like I might topple you over.”
“You? You barely weigh anything.”
“Oh, my. You do know how to sweet talk a girl,” she says, kissing my neck.
She keeps kissing my neck, so I grab her hips and pull her on top of me.
She leans down, her long hair falling across her face, and kisses me. This time, more urgently.
My body quickly responds, going from relaxed to taut, and I slide her on top of my dick.
“Do you like being on top?” I ask.
“Yes, but I was thinking there are some other things we haven’t tried yet.”
“Hmm, you’re right. I wouldn’t want you to get bored,” I tease, taking one of her nipples between my teeth. Then I flip her over and pin her underneath me.
“I will admit, I used to think this position meant boring. Not with you.”
“I don’t think it will ever be boring with you,” I tell her, truthfully. But then I flip her over and pull her up on her knees.
“Oh, Dawson,” she says, as I slide two fingers into her.
I push my chest tight into her back, almost spooning her.
As I rub my fingers roughly across her wetness, she moans again.
“Now, Dawson,” she says, and she doesn’t have to ask twice.
Later, we’re thoroughly exhausted and tangled in the sheets.
“I won a sex position of the day calendar at our Christmas white elephant exchange,” she says. “I’ve never used it.”
“Are you suggesting we do?”
She giggles. “It might be fun.”
“At the rate we’re going, we’ll blow through that thing in a month.”
“You think you can do 365 positions in thirty days? That’s over ten a day.”
I give her ass a little slap. “Are you suggesting I couldn’t? Are you challenging me?”
“Maybe,” she says, raising an eyebrow.
“I accept. But if you win, you have to come home with me for Thanksgiving.”
“I don’t know if I can. I wouldn’t want my dad to be alone.”
“We could bring him too.”
“Thanksgiving is well over a month away.”
“Are you thinking we won’t still be . . .” I say, not wanting to finish the sentence.
“Do you think we will?”
“I wouldn’t be asking if I didn’t. The girls loved meeting you. Ava told me you were really pretty and asked if you were a movie star too.”
“Really? They’re both such nice girls. Although, I think you might have to lock Harlow in her room until she’s twenty. She’s a natural flirt.”
“I know. She already has Dallas’ boys wrapped around her little finger.”
“Can I ask you a personal question, Dawson?”
“Sure.”
“You said something that’s stuck with me.”
“What’s that?”
“That I was the best kiss you’d ever had.”
“What’s wrong with that?” I smile, while running my hand down her side.
“Isn’t that kind of disrespectful to your wife? To say I’m the best?”
“Hmm.” I frown. “Yeah, I suppose it is. My wife should have been the best kiss of my life or why did I marry her, right?”
“Yeah.”
“I feel like I’ve known you forever, Vanessa. I forget that you don’t know the details of my life. Whitney and I had a long history. We dated in high school until around the end of our junior year when she broke up with me. It was hard on me. I thought I loved her. Once I was out of the relationship, I started to realize that I was immature and what we had wasn’t what love should be. She was manipulative, controlling, and needy all at the same time. My freshman year in college, she came back into my life. We hung out and had sex twice using condoms that she gave me. A short time later, she told me she was pregnant.”
“And you married her? It sounds like she got pregnant on purpose.”
“I told you she was manipulative. I wasn’t going to marry her. My family told me over and over not to marry her. And I didn’t until after Ava was born. Anyone who doesn’t believe in insta-love hasn’t held their baby in their arms. Whitney told me if I wanted to be part of the baby’s life, we’d be getting married. So, we did.”
“But you could have sued for custody or gotten visitation rights.”
“I could have, but I didn’t. I wanted to be with her every day. And, surprisingly, we got along pretty well. I was determined to make the best of it and we had Harlow a few years later.”
“How did she die?”
“She committed suicide.”
“Oh, Dawson. I’m so sorry,” she says, tears glistening in her eyes. “I just found out today that my mom committed suicide.”
I pull her close and run my hand across her silky hair. “When did that happen?”
“When I was in kindergarten.”
“Harlow was in kindergarten when Whitney died.”
“I feel bad for the girls for losing their mother, but I can say that my dad and I are very close because of it.”
“And he just now told you it was suicide?”
“It was ruled an accidental overdose when it happened. She suffered from depression and mixed her medicine with alcohol. When I was going through the old stuff at my dad’s today, I found a box full of letters she wrote to me. Like for when I got married or got my period. My dad thought it was an accident until he found them a few weeks after she died.”
“But you just saw them for the first time today?”
“Yes. My dad didn’t give them to me. I can see why, now. It looks like she started writing them when she took the pills because some were neat and very coherent. Others were messy and didn’t really make sense.”
“Still, it must have been tough to take.”
She nods. “Your daughters seem so happy. It’s hard to believe they lost their mom.”
“The first few months were really hard on them. And me.”
She brushes her fingers through my hair and kisses me. “Probably hardest on you. Is that why you wished for forgiveness? Do you feel like it was your fault?”
“Let’s talk about happier things,” I say, changing the subject. The last thing I want to talk about when I’m in bed with a beautiful woman is the mess Whitney left me with. “Like these,” I say, trailing my finger across her nipples.
MONDAY, OCTOBER 6th
Captive Films - Santa Monica
RILEY
I walk in my office mid-morning on Monday to find Dawson telling Dallas about how happy he is that his girls got along so well with Vanessa this weekend.
“How’s the hand?” Dallas asks me.
I hold my cast up and shrug. “Dawson, you’re supposed to fuck Vanessa, not fall in love with her and introduce her to the girls. You haven’t even been here a week yet. And Vanessa is a freaking man eater. She chews guys up and spits them out.”
“It won’t be that way with me.”
“You didn’t listen to us when we told you not to marry
Whitney. Listen to me now.”
“Riley, I did listen. I knew life with Whitney wouldn’t be what I dreamed of. I knew our relationship wasn’t going to be the true love, happily ever after stuff in the movies you make. But I knew I wanted to be a part of Ava’s life. Once I held her in my arms, I was willing to forgo my own happiness for her. And it was the right decision, Riley. I have two amazing daughters. And I’d go through everything I went through with Whitney again, because of them. What you aren’t seeing is what Vanessa does to me. How she makes me feel.”
“How does she make you feel?”
“Like I’m eighteen again and the world is full of options. But, this time, I’m smart enough not to let her go.”
“What do you mean, this time?”
“Remember Keatyn’s eighteenth birthday party?”
“Yeah.”
“What do you remember about it?”
“Ariela’s tight red dress. Drinking. Dancing all night.”
“Do you know what I did at the party, Riley?”
“I remember what I did.” Dallas interjects. “Met, danced, and made out with RiAnne all night. Now look at us, married with four kids and another on the way.”
“We know the story, Dallas,” I say. Then I turn back to my brother. “I’m assuming you danced and partied too?”
“Yes, but with who?”
“Everyone?”
“Wrong. Vanessa. We danced and kissed all night too. It was one of the best nights of my life, and I didn’t even get laid.”
“I did,” Dallas coughs.
Dawson laughs.
“So, Dawson, why didn’t you stay in contact with her if it was so amazing?”
“She was still in high school here, and I was looking forward to college in New York. But, that doesn’t mean I ever forgot her. Just like you’ve never forgotten Ariela.”
“Point for Dawson,” Dallas quips.
It’s not that you haven’t moved on,” Dawson continues, “or that you haven’t had other relationships. It’s just that she’s always been in the back of your mind.”
“Keatyn would say that’s true love,” Dallas says.
“Yes, she would,” Keatyn says from behind us. She pats Dawson’s shoulder. “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but I’m so happy for you. I had no idea about you and Vanessa. I remember you kissed at my party but neither one of you ever said much about it.”
“Seeing her again wasn’t even something I thought about when I took this job, but it certainly has made me want to stay.”
“You want to stay? Really?” Keatyn says, happily.
“I think so. The girls seem open to it. They’re coming here on Friday and we’ll tour the school. When I called about it, they said there was a wait list, but Dallas thinks he can pull strings to get them in.”
“I’m on the school board and donate a lot of money, Dawson.” Dallas says. “I will get them in.”
“You know you have my full support on that,” Keatyn says to Dallas, implying that Captive would make a donation to make it happen if need be.
I sigh. “I’m sorry, Dawson. If Vanessa is the right girl for you, don’t let her go.”
“Thanks, Riley.”
“I second that motion,” Keatyn says, enthusiastically.
“Me three,” Dallas says.
Vanessa’s Estate, Guest house - Holmby Hills
ARIELA
I’m sitting on the couch typing wedding plans into a detailed timeline when my phone rings.
Riley says, “My dinner meeting just ended. Wanna hang out?”
“I just put my pajamas on,” I say, looking down at the T-shirt and boxers I'm wearing.
“Leave them on. I don't mind. We’ll just sit and talk a little.”
“Um, okay,” I say, already running into the bathroom and powdering my face. “How long will you be?”
“Twenty minutes.”
“Perfect,” I say and hang up.
I quickly do my makeup—purposely doing it soft and subtle, so it doesn’t look like I just got ready. I shave my legs, spritz on perfume, and brush my teeth in near record time.
“What am I going to wear?” I ask myself, looking into the closet and pulling out something very sexy. “I can’t wear this—” I’m saying when a memory hits me, stopping me in my tracks.
Should I?
Yes.
No.
Yes.
No.
Shit.
I glance at the clock.
Not much time.
I decide to go for it.
What’s the worst thing that could happen?
I mean, besides rejection.
Vanessa’s Estate, Guest house - Holmby Hills
RILEY
When she answers the door, I gulp, taking in the little pink nightie she’s wearing. “I thought you were in your pajamas?”
“These are my pajamas. I was going to change but you told me not to,” she says, like it’s no big deal that’s she’s wearing sexy ass lingerie.
“That's because I didn't . . .” My voice fades off. I’m fucking speechless.
“Come, sit,” she says walking over to the couch, sitting down, and patting the seat next to her.
I sit down feeling helpless, like a man who’s been hypnotized and is made to do stupid things in front of a crowd.
I remind myself of what I said in the car on the way over. Do not kiss her again until she is divorced.
The pale pink silk of her gown is slightly see-through, allowing me to see the outline of her breast, the edges of her nipples.
I feel blood rushing toward my dick, causing me to grow harder every second.
How long do divorces take?
I've got to stop it. I came over here to talk to her about Homecoming, not to just stare at her gorgeous eyes. Her long brown hair is pushed over one shoulder but the other is forward and blocking my view of her other breast. I reach out and slide her hair up and over her shoulder.
She doesn’t say anything, just smiles at me.
But then she shifts, leaning back a little and sliding one leg under her, getting comfortable.
But when she does it, I see a flash of skin.
“You used to wear underwear to sleep in,” I say, locking my jaw.
“Not when you came over, Riley.”
I bite my lip, trying to hurt myself and wishing I had another tree to punch. That kind of pain is the only thing that could make the raging boner I have stand down.
“You wanted to talk about old times, Riley, so here's what I remember. I remember you liked when I did this.” She splays her hand across her chest then pushes it under the triangle of silk covering her breast. She runs a finger in a circular motion and when she removes her hand I can see her hardened nipple raising the pale pink silk.
Her eyes are half closed when slides her hand into her cleavage, down her stomach, and under the silk between her legs.
“You used to like when I did this too, Riley. Do you still like it?”
She tilts her hips towards her fingers, and I can practically feel her warm pussy against my own fingers.
She filed, right? Isn’t that close enough?
“Do you remember what you used to do?” she taunts.
I can't take much more. I grab her hand and suck her wet fingers into my mouth. “I wanted to taste you.”
And it's exactly as I remember, sweet perfection.
A man of principle can only handle so much temptation.
I slide my fingers between her legs, finding the moistness between the folds of her lips. She's so fucking wet, and I'm about to explode.
She leans her head back and moves her hips in unison with my fingers.
“Can you feel how much I want you, Riley?”
“You never used to say that. You were too shy. You only did this because you knew how much it turned me on.”
Her lips graze my neck on the way to my ear. “I said can you feel how much I want you, Riley?”
“Yes, Ariela. Fuck,
yes.”
She shoves her hand down my pants.
I can handle this, I tell myself. I can.
Until her lips touch mine.
There's no turning back now.
I devour her lips, reveling in the taste of her tongue, the urgency of her hips moving against mine. There’s only so much I can take. I move on top of her. She quickly parts her legs, making room for me, and pushes my pants off with her feet.
Moments later, I’m inside her and out of control. Pounding into her over and over, going deeper and deeper the harder I get, fucking her like there’s no tomorrow. I’m going to do this all fucking night.
“Oh, Riley. My god,” she says, panting in pleasure.
And that causes me to lose it. A few more thrusts and I’m moaning myself.
I get rid of the condom in the bathroom and walk back out, figuring it's about time to wake up from this dream. But she’s lying on the floor, naked, on top of a fluffy white rug.
And she’s fucking beautiful.
I take a moment to study her.
“You look beautiful,” I tell her, lying on my side next to her and brushing my hand across her chest. “You look the same. You feel the same.” I glide my hand across her curves from the side of her breast, down the valley to her waist, up a slender hip, and across her thigh.
I never allowed myself to think about her during the days since she left, but she often invades my dreams at night when I'm defenseless.
She doesn’t bother with a condom this time, just sees that I’m hard again, pushes me into the rug, then lowers herself on top of me.
I sit up, wrapping my arms around her in a hug, kissing her shoulder.
It’s like I’ve never had sex before. This becomes my new ultimate. The feel of her hands running across my back, the smell of her hair, the way her hips feel in my hands, the perfect little motions, and the way she seems to be controlling my body.
But then she starts moving faster, riding me harder and throwing her head back, moaning.
That simple vision of seeing her in the heat of passion makes me lose myself. I grab her hips, forcing her up and down on top of me until I explode inside her.
