by Dani Wyatt
“Not exactly what we expected. Not what I hoped for.”
I hate the sadness in her voice. I fucking hate it.
My job in this world is to make her smile and the world is not helping me fulfill that commitment right now.
“No, but we’re not going to stop living. My gut tells me Jordan is safe. I know Louis is off the rails but I honestly don’t think he would ever hurt Jordan.” I shake my head. “He doesn't have that in him. Something is wrong, but we’ve both seen him with Jordan over the last couple of months. You know what I'm talking about. He loves Jordan. I have a feeling, you know, I get those feelings, my spidey sense. Jordan's safe.”
She shakes her head and for the first time in the last three hours, I see the slightest upturn in the corners of those magical lips.
“You and your superpowers. You know, if you have so many superpowers, why don’t you have a cape? I’d maybe believe you more if you had a nice, long black cape. And tights. You’d look good in tights.” The lightness in her voice is beautiful.
Finally she softens and I love it. The weight of worry on her face lifts, just a hint.
“I like to stay incognito,” I say.
“Huh, yeah, you’re very incognito. That’s why wherever we go, people practically break their necks to get a look at you. You may as well be Batman. In tights.”
“Hey, I’ll take that as a compliment. I mean, if you could choose, you should always choose to be Batman, right? He’s got the coolest stuff. But,” I tap a finger on her nose as she crinkles it at me, “technically, he doesn’t have any superpowers. He’s a superhero, don’t get me wrong, but there’s a difference. I—” I reach down and maneuver one of her legs between us, and her canvas Tom’s loafer falls off and thunks onto the concrete floor. With a feigned dramatic grunt, I finally get her leg over the other side of the bench so she is facing me. Both her legs are draped over my thighs. “I, my dear, have superpowers.”
“I have superpowers too.” She emphasizes as she says ‘powers’ with the cutest half smirk, igniting the uncivilized parts of me, raising the damn flag.
“Yes, trust me, I am all too familiar with your superpowers.” I gather my arms around her waist and tug her as close to me as I can, her legs wide open. She brings her feet up to wrap around my waist as her arms snake around my neck.
I don’t know if it’s the right time, but I don’t give a shit. I reach around to the little velvet bag in my back pocket, dig two fingers in until I touch the satin drawstring and fish it out.
I attach my lips to her forehead again, feeling the warmth of her skin, running a hand up her spine and over her neck until my fingers entwine in her silken halo of hair.
I turn my lips to the side. “For you. Happy one-day anniversary.” I whisper into her forehead. Then I draw our faces apart as I bring the little white fabric bag into view.
I’d give her gifts every minute of every day just to see that sweet, unsuspecting look on her face. She still doesn’t realize what I would do for her. The lengths I would go to make sure she smiles.
“What?” She playfully slaps me on the upper arm. “You goof. This crazy, eight pound set of rings on my finger is enough. I don’t need gifts, Beck, I just need you.”
“Just take it. It’s not what you need, it’s what you deserve. And I need to make you smile; that’s my damn job and I take it seriously.” A sense of overwhelming possession draws my chest tight. I still don’t know if she realizes just what it feels like for me to be with her. That every part of her belongs to me and I will never, ever let her go.
Ever.
Her hands come up to clutch the bag and I lean back a few inches to watch her. She’s trying not to smile and that’s almost better than if she did smile. It's just playing around her lips, tweaking the corners. That little girl inside her who’s always felt worthless is silently clapping and jumping up and down.
I push her hair behind each ear and gather it back over her shoulders before bringing my hands around to encircle her waist. I love holding her here, at her center of herself. Her waist curves in perfectly as the counterbalance to the most amazing breasts in the universe and the swell of her round ass. A beautiful hourglass.
“Open it,” I urge. “The bag isn’t the gift, you know.” I want to see her face light up.
She flashes the brilliant white of her teeth behind the perfect pink of her glossy lips as she pushes her index fingers inside the top of the gathered velvet and slowly pulls it open.
It’s a personal challenge right now not to lay her back and eat her while she opens the gift. I mean, what could be better than that? The beast inside of me wants to claw at her, turn her over and make us both forget the ominous clouds that hang over us. My desire to conquer her even as she gives herself to me is unlike anything I’ve felt before.
I know it's not just the gift that blushes her cheeks and widens her eyes. It’s that the gift comes from me. And that only makes it harder to keep the fucking caveman from taking over at that moment.
She spreads the bag and lowers it to see inside. Two fingers pinch into the opening and bring out a white paper, about the size of a business card, tied with a satin ribbon the same translucent shade of blue as her eyes.
The bow holds a delicate platinum chain, and as she pulls it out the pendant on the bottom of the chain appears.
Her fingers lift the little card, my barely legible scratch scrawled over it.
I cherish you. This is the first day of all the days that my purpose in life is to make you happy . . . as my wife. Happy One-Day Anniversary, babe. I love you more than you could ever know. I’ve got you.
Beck
I slip my hands back down to the small of her back, pushing up the silk blouse. Her skin is flushed warm and it makes my fingertips feel alive. I want this moment to be hers. I don’t want anything else to intrude. But I can’t help the way she churns my insides, turning my lust into something alive, with its own will and its own teeth. It takes so much effort to hold back.
She cups the pendant in her other hand, tips her head to the side to get a better look, and more of her smile covers the stunning fragile beauty of her face.
“It’s . . . more than beautiful.” Her eyes well and her hand shakes.
“Here. I want to see this where it should be.”
I bring my hands to the chain, working the little clasp as she stares at the custom-made pendant. It is an intricate script of a ‘B’ and a ‘P,’ woven together and set with seventy-two tiny diamonds. The individual letters are clear but still intricately designed to be part of the other. Intertwined. Like us. Forever.
I bring the chain around and fix the clasp together at the back of her neck.
“Thank you.” She lets the pendant hang and her hands come to rest on either side of my jaw. “It’s the best present ever.”
The fire in my belly spews like lava, sending heat through my veins as she looks into my eyes with everything she has.
I finger the pendant before settling it between the swell of her breasts. The perfect place for it.
She takes a breath. “Am I a horrible person because I can’t stop thinking about you? I mean, I'm thinking about you in ways that may not be appropriate, considering what’s going on right now.” She crinkles her nose before continuing. “I mean, I can’t stop worrying about Jordan, but I get it. We can't make a move right now. I also can’t stop thinking about . . .” Promise blinks slowly, her lips open and her sweet, warm breath mixes with my own, making my insides buzz.
I want to kiss her like the first time we kissed. It feels new. Every damn time.
She lights up new parts of me every day, and this soft, curvy creature has superpowers I couldn’t begin to fight.
I shake my head slowly. “You are not horrible,” I say, tracing the planes of her face with my rough fingertips. Soothing her. She can do no wrong as far as I’m concerned. “You are magnificent. And caring and amazing and kind. And I want to make love to you as much now as I did the first ti
me. I want you to feel good, that’s all I ever want and there is nothing wrong with that. Not even right now.”
Beckett
We both need this. We need to remind ourselves of what it is to be human, to be alive. I need to fuck her. Promise needs to know that I'm here. And I'll always be here. I need her to understand that.
I think we are both ambivalent about the lust we're feeling right now. But we can't seem to pack it away, despite everything that's happened in the last few hours.
Better to go with it and feel that connection.
She's wearing the outfit I bought for her, the one she was going to wear for our trip to Fiji. The soft, snow-white linen slacks and the lilac silk blouse hug every turn and swell of her amazing body. Only that outfit won’t be getting on a plane today. Plans have changed. But she still looks as beautiful now as she would on any tropical island.
There is a burst of warmth inside my chest as my eyes hook hers. She shifts and pushes her body against mine. Instinctively, my hands slip low, dragging her ass up so the spread of her legs is now on top of my already painful, throbbing hard on.
There is no part of her that my lips haven’t touched these last few weeks, but it will never be enough. It has only driven my need for her farther into my soul. I’m a junkie and she’s my drug of choice.
Light streams through the high windows of the loft. Fingers of dusty sunshine dance over half her face, leaving the other half in shadow. As I bring my lips to hers, her tongue seeks me out first and all I can think about is being inside her, her pussy gripping every inch of me. She'll never know in a thousand years what it feels like when I’m inside her. It’s a miracle I can’t begin to describe. There just aren't the words in any language. Her pussy is just that damn good.
Our kiss is stirring parts of me that will soon take over, extinguishing any rational thought that's left. So as much as I want to kiss her and kiss her–and go on kissing her–until the damn cows come home, I take a ragged breath through my nose and pull my lips from hers, then rest my forehead on hers and take a deep, slow breath.
“Are you sure, babe?” I breathe her in, enjoying the scent of her, the feel of her. “You’re revving my engine. And once we’re off the starting line there’s no stopping this. Not until we’ve gone a few hard laps around the track.”
I want her to be the voice of reason. She’s got to be the voice of reason here. Because I am not thinking with anything other than my dick right now. And it's not just because I’m a ravenous whore when it comes to her. I want to make her feel something else, something other than fear and worry, until we know how to proceed. Until we have something solid.
“I’m very sure.” She wiggles the soft heat between her legs on top of an erection that is ready to unzip my damn pants for me.
Her soft hug turns to a locked down embrace, like she’s afraid I’m going to let her go. She’s squeezing so tight around my neck it’s hard to get my next breath.
I open my mouth, about to speak. About to give her one more chance to settle this down. And her lips are on me, her mouth warm–sweet–the taste of mint still lingering from the tea I made her when we got back from the police station.
I’m falling for her all over again. Every day, every time she shows me that part of her that wants me like I want her, I fall in love with her all over again.
She makes me believe there is a God. Because feelings like this must be divine.
She pulls back from me, gasping for air, and her arms tighten another notch around my neck. I gather her higher and harder against me, and she leans in with all her soft curves.
The warmth of her cheek scratches against my unshaved face and I feel her breath in my ear.
Her lips brush the shell of my ear as she hisses, “I need you. I need you to bring me that peace. Take me to that place where I don’t think anymore. Where I don’t remember.”
She’s the tigress. She tightens her limbs around me, the miracle between her legs spreading and clutching over the steel length beating its way out of my zipper. Even through the layers of our clothing, I can feel the heated need of her cunt beating in time with my heart.
Her pussy calls to me like a demon to a broken soul.
Sometimes I make love to her, slow and steady, gliding in and out as I whisper with each movement, telling her how it feels—how high she takes me.
But not today. I can feel it: what she needs—what I need—and when I give it to her, it will hurt. My muscles tighten, my arms around her waist gripping so hard they're like a prison. The subtle sway of her hips is nothing compared to the force of my upward thrust against her open legs.
“You want me? You need me inside of you?” I hiss into her ear as I stand, lifting us as one and stepping over the bench. I step toward the bed, intending to make her forget everything but the pounding of my cock in her pussy.
My pussy. I own it.
The outside world can fucking wait.
“Yes.” Her breath comes in fits. “I need you.” She turns her face to mine and our kiss is not soft.
Our teeth knock together as our lips open. Our tongues go to war, each of us fighting to bring what the other needs. I listen to the sharp inhales she steals around our kiss, the growing moans from us both fill the loft and I think of all the ways I will give her what she deserves.
Peace.
Peace that comes from me.
From my cock. From my hand. From the bliss that comes from a bit of pain.
She honors me when she allows herself to surrender utterly to my will. When she trusts me beyond any other force in this world.
Today, what she needs will sting.
It will mark her, and I will make her cry out, but I promise it will bring her the peace she needs.
I breathe into our kiss as her flavor runs through me like fire. Every part of her has a distinct taste and I’ve memorized them all.
“Hold on.” I seethe as my hands let go of her ass and she clings to me like a spider, leaning back just enough for me to work the buttons down the silk of her blouse. I watch as the pendant falls between her tits. Tits which I intend to bite hard enough so she knows who they belong to.
In three steps I’m at the bed, my mind tangled with how to begin. How to bring her what she needs as quickly as possible.
“Stand up,” I order as I unfasten the last button on her blouse.
I move my hands under her arms, lifting and steadying her until she plants her feet on the mattress. We are face to face and I still barely understand how she can’t grasp just how stunning she is.
For a long moment I forget to breathe, staring into the face that God must have carved out of a thousand angels just for me.
A pink blush rises on her cheeks, her lips darkening as they hang open. Her soft sweet breath comes faster as her eyes look to me for direction.
For protection.
The blouse is a memory, tossed aside as I bury my face into that sensuous place at the base of her neck. I kiss her there as I run my hands up and down her bare back, stopping only to unclasp her bra. I hate it at that moment. It's the only thing keeping her tits from pressing against me.
When our bodies come together, chest to chest, heart to heart, the animal in me starts to claw its way out. There is an ascension of the energy between us when that happens. We couple like intricate puzzle pieces made only for each other.
Our breath is warming the air around us. Every movement is beautiful. She arches into me when I finally free her from the fabric keeping her tits from my mouth.
I pull her back, sending my teeth onto her lush orb, pulling on the hard, round peak until she yelps and her nails cut like razors into my shoulders.
We go from zero to sixty in the blink of an eye. We are breath and arms and flesh and need. It grips me low in my gut. The tension. The tightness that only she’s ever been able to bring me. It’s carnal. Instinct. We both want to fuck away everything that's happened.
It’s not about me. It’s about her. It’s about how badl
y I want to give her things no one else can. How badly I want to hear the sounds of her pleasure until her voice is raw and her body is slack. My dick will be the first and last to ever bring her this kind of pleasure.
I want to feel the cum run out of her like a river, as I drink her in, as I settle my mouth between her legs and feel that magic engulf me when she cums on my face, over and over.
My hands grip each breast, holding them high and together as my mouth devours her, leaving red and purple marks which make the beast in me even more ravenous. I can’t stop moving from one side to the other, worshipping her, sucking her deep and full into my mouth as my tongue explores the tightening texture of her nipples.
My fingertips dig into her as my teeth bear down between her tits, where I have pushed them together. I lay my mark on one side, then the other, and though she is yelping and wincing, her hands move to the back of my head. She pushes me deeper into the softness of her chest.
Heat is growing between us, like we are beginning to glow as we are joined. The intensity rises as I increase the depth of my bite.
I release her when I feel her body start to shake and her high pitched yelp begins to crack her voice. She lets out a quivering sigh and melts into me, my arms holding her in place even as I feel her legs starting to give way.
“You trust me?” I bring my hand around from her back and cup her chin.
Her eyes are already drooping, unfocused, and I see her swallow, trying to make sense of my question. I squeeze her chin, giving her a sharp smack on the side of her ass with my other hand, focusing her.
“Owww.”
“Answer me,” I grunt.
“Yes.” She’s back with me, her eyes on mine.
“With everything? With all of you?”
She nods, but the beast inside me isn’t satisfied. He always wants more.
“Say it. Tell me what you know I want to hear.” My brow draws together, the tendons in my neck stand out. But even though I want to give her pain, I don’t want to hurt her.
I want to help her.
