And he was still around.
But what did he want? What did she want? After making their way through Thanksgiving, their trajectory remained the same. What trajectory was that? Did he believe in marriage? Did she? Could she be committed to a man for the long-term who would nine times out of ten demand her sexual domination?
Could she live without him? Could she tell him what she was feeling?
Traditional subjects never made their way into their conversation. Marriage or living together. Living together prior to marriage. Children. Retirement plans. Which family they would spend holidays with. Could she initiate that convo? Would he be receptive? Would he be annoyed or disinterested? What if all he was capable of was a long-term, committed affair? Was that enough to sustain her?
§ § §
“You’re awfully quiet tonight,” he commented as he dried the dinner dishes as quickly as she washed them.
“Am I?” she deflected.
“Yeah. You are. Is everything okay?” he asked. She felt his eyes bore into her from the side, as though searching for answers in the silhouette of her body. Her problem, among many, was that once a thought or concern took root in her mind, she couldn’t let it go. She had an obsessive need to disclose her thoughts and confront her problems. No pushing them out of her mind, not even for one evening.
“I’m alright. I’ve been thinking about some things, that’s all.”
“Define ‘things,’” he said, grabbing his water glass while leaning against her kitchen sink.
She shrugged, dropping her eyes to the floor. Anywhere but on his smart, tough face.
“Girl things,” she hedged.
He raised his eyebrow. “Girl things? Like tampons? Makeup? Pantyhose? Garters?” he suggested as his mouth twisted mischievously.
“None of the above, Smartass.”
“Well, then, what’s on your mind?”
She peered at him across the small expanse of her kitchen, the one drawback to her loft. Until and unless she expelled it from her mind, it would weigh her down, like a cement block, dragging her through a dark abyss where all she could see was empty and dank. Unable to focus on anything or anyone else.
Digging in, she began. “Girl things, like relationships.”
“As in generic relationships? Or as in our relationship, Calleigh?” he clarified.
Drawing a fortifying breath, she responded. “Our relationship.”
“What exactly is on your mind about us?”
“Earlier today, I was thinking that for as much time as we spend together, we’ve never talked about what we want.” At his skeptical look, she clarified, “What we want in terms of our future.”
“What do you want, Calleigh?”
Expelling a burst of air, she said, “I’m not sure. I know that I want to be in a long-term, committed, monogamous relationship, but I’m not sure if that means marriage or not. My parents’ marriage didn’t exactly work out well and I don’t know if that’s something I need or want.
“Is marriage important to you?” she asked.
His broad shoulders rippled underneath his dress shirt. “I used to think it was. I used to think that of course I’d be married by a certain point in my life. When that point came and went, I reevaluated. My parents have a great marriage, I think. They still seem to like each other well enough after over forty years. A lot of my friends are married and it seems to work well enough for them. Most people I know who are married are fairly happy as far as I can tell.”
“I guess you have no reason to fear divorce,” she said, fiddling with the bottom of her shirt.
“You want to talk about your parents, C?” he asked, coming over to stand in front of her, while he reached out and placed his hand intimately on the side of her stomach. The small expanse between her breasts and her navel was as intimate as any other spot. With any other man who dared to touch such a private part outside of sex, she would have been madly dashing to extricate herself promptly. With David, she stood there and let him touch her the way he wanted to. The way she was coming to accept.
She shrugged. “Not really. I mean, I’d hate to think that they define me or my prospects for a long and lengthy union.”
“You fear divorce.”
A statement made with his calm, quiet authority.
“Yeah. Yeah, I do,” she admitted. “The irony is that I don’t remember anything about my parents’ marriage. I mean, my dad left when I was fairly young and I have virtually no recollection of him. Except for reddish brown hair and rough hands. I remember how different they felt from my mother’s. And aftershave. He always smelled good.” For years afterward, in her young mind, she wondered how someone who smelled so fantastic could be so cold and just run away? There one day and vanished the next. Like smoke. Only less tangible.
“Your parents don’t define you. You’re already breaking the chain with Lauren in terms of her views on food and dieting and exercise. Their track record has no impact on you. Or on us.”
She desperately wanted to believe him. Wanted to cling to the “us,” he spoke of.
“So.”
“So.”
“Back to this whole marriage business,” she said as she grabbed his waist and brought him closer.
“Yes?” he asked as he leaned into her to tickle her nose with his own.
“Are you a yes?”
“Is this a proposal?”
She softly chuckled. “Not quite. More like I’m forming an exploratory committee to determine if we have winning prospects.”
“Oh yeah. We definitely have winning prospects,” he said as he finished her off with a deep kiss that caused her toes to curl up and her inner Wonder Woman to sit down and take a load off.
§ § §
Marriage. Ever since Calleigh had broached the subject the prior week, the topic, the institution, the commitment had been swimming around his mind like a brand new guppy in a fish bowl. Every statement he’d made to her rang with truth, and yet a host of other questions and different related topics remained unbroached.
He enjoyed commitment. Enjoyed the continuity of being with the same person for an extended period of time. The routine of it. The comfort of it. But he’d never found someone who he could envision staying with for more than a few years.
Yet with Calleigh, the transition seemed entirely natural. As though that was the only potential next step. He liked the way he was around her. He liked the things she brought out in him. He loved talking to her about everything: topics both mundane and important. She seemed comfortable not talking when they were together as though no words were necessary to communicate.
He’d need to introduce her to his family because they were sure to spend holidays and vacations with his parents, brothers, and their families. He’d have no problem splitting holidays with Lauren. She could even come along since she was the only family member Calleigh had.
He had no doubt that his family would adore her. What wasn’t there to love?
Love. He was undoubtedly in love. Funny that he and Calleigh tossed around the “M” word, but neither had uttered the Big L. He’d been close numerous times, but had never fallen off the precipice. He’d never confused love with sex. Entirely separate needs. And emotions. And actions. The thought of spending his life with Calleigh filled him with equal amounts of contentment and heat.
They were amazing in bed together. She was up for anything, even the stuff he could tell made her initially nervous and hesitant. He’d earned her trust and he would never, ever betray it. He actually liked her vocalizing to him in bed the few times he’d let her. Tell him what she wanted. Where she wanted him. His cock. His tongue. His fingers. Maybe someday he could even get her to talk dirty to him without him telling her exactly what to say. What words to utter. Which way to pivot her body. Her navel.
He was firmly committed to Portland until and unless the Tide decided that his time was up. Which he hoped wouldn’t be for several decades, if ever. He’d be content to retire as the Tide
’s General Manager. The team was percolating right along, almost exactly where he’d envisioned them being. No season was perfect. No draft was flawless. No coach wasn’t without his own issues and no player was completely without baggage. Overall, though, pride poured through him when he reflected on the team he’d employed a master hand to build.
What did he want to build his personal life around? What did Calleigh want? They’d never discussed kids and he really couldn’t see himself having any. He could leave procreation to his siblings. He didn’t think he needed to produce any of his own for any particular reason. If Calleigh wanted them, would he want to have them with her? If things never worked out between them, would he be capable of caring for them on his own? God forbid if something ever happened to her, would he even want to raise them? How would children fit into their professional careers?
His professional desires fueled his ambition. Workaholics had nothing on him. Would she accept that? The continuous late nights. The fact that every weekend from August through January would be occupied with games? Thus far, she’d seemed alright with his schedule and the crazy hours he kept, but if she couldn’t put up his schedule, where did that leave them?
The thoughts continued to swirl in his mind like a dervish, rapt with fervor as he pulled onto Belmont right outside of her loft. Picking up his package, he arrived at her door and let himself in.
“It’s me,” he called out, closing the door. All of the lights were out. Instead, candles threw soft shadows around her loft, the mysterious shapes dancing up and down the walls in a silent ritual. Adele crooned from the docking station near the kitchen. The entire effect created a romantic, intimate vibe absolutely perfect for what he had planned on the way over.
When she didn’t respond, he called out again, “Cals, you here? Where are you?” He deposited his package in the freezer and went to investigate the portion of the loft that served as her bedroom.
And his heart just about burst right alongside his cock.
On her bed, Calleigh centered herself on her white comforter like one of his greatest pinup fantasies brought to life. Her hair was pulled back off her face, a face that needed no accentuation. Nonetheless, the lushest of red lip gloss painted her pretty lips and matched the few wisps of cloth covering the remainder of her body. A deep red satin demi bra trimmed in black lace cradled her breasts alongside high-cut matching panties covering one of his favorite parts. Red peep-toe stilettos completed the ensemble.
“Well, hello,” he croaked, raspy even to his own ears.
Her smile erased the clouds of the day. The lingering doubts about the upcoming post-season. The unresolved league labor situation. His quarterback who continued to implode on a daily basis. Right now, the only temporal, tangible thing that mattered was the two of them in this room.
“You made good time,” she said as her hand started to slide down her stomach.
“What do you think you’re doing?” he asked.
She narrowed her slightly eyes while her hand stopped shy of her intended destination and remained silent.
“That’s right. Who’s in charge?”
“You are,” she answered.
“Very good. What were you about to do?”
“I was going to touch myself.”
“I didn’t say you could, did I?”
“No, you didn’t.”
“Do you want to touch yourself? Pleasure yourself?” he asked as he began to loosen his tie.
“If you want me to.”
“Even if I don’t. Do you still want to?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
At his question, she spread her legs even further before responding. “All night, I’ve been waiting for you to get home. All night, I’ve been thinking about you. Missing you. Wanting you. And then you walked in. And you look terrific, even though I know you’ve just finished working sixteen hours. Thinking about you all day and all night has made me wet. Several times while waiting for you, all I wanted to do was grab my dildo and pretend it was you. But then I realized that would be selling us both short. So, instead I waited. Now you’re here and all I want is you. Inside me. Soon.”
He didn’t think his dick could get any harder, but at her words, it did. It felt like a fucking steel pike in his pants. Removing his belt, unbuttoning his pants, and rolling down his zipper, he pushed his slacks down to dive into his briefs. Removing them, he extracted his cock, already straining up towards his stomach and began stroking it.
“I’m proud of you, Calleigh,” he said, watching her watch him rub his shaft, up and down, the way he liked it. The way he’d taught her he liked it. “In fact, I’m so proud of you, I think you’ve earned yourself a reward. Take your hand and rub yourself. Now,” he ordered, as he began increasing his own speed and tempo.
On the bed, she bent her knees and widened her legs as far as they could span. Her hand disappeared beneath the red and black lace covering her mound and began making revolving motions, the satin and lace shifting up and down in accordance with her hand. God, it was so fucking hot watching her get herself off.
“That’s good. Very good,” he said, as he rolled the head of his dick just slightly hard enough to cause a brief burst of pain, a delay tactic designed to forestall his own impending orgasm. He wanted to ride it out until he gave her permission so that they could come together.
“Your breasts look lonely. Take your other hand and roll your nipples the way you know you like it,” he directed as he took his own balls in his other hand, teasing them in accordance with the show in front of him.
His mouth watered watching her as her other hand pulled her breast up so that it sat proudly atop the demi cup while the other remained shielded. She did as she was told, taking the one pretty raspberry between her thumb and forefinger, pinching it so that it stood out in the air. Dipping her fingers into her mouth, she wet them with circular motions.
“I think you should repeat that. Except switch your hands so that the hand in your pussy is the one on your tit,” he growled, using everything he could to not come, knowing that even though she was close, she wasn’t close enough.
Her right hand snaked out from her pussy while her left hand replaced it, massaging her clit as she rolled her nipple with her own juice.
“You like that?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“Good. Now, make yourself come.”
She did.
After she finished, her glassy eyes looked at him. An open question.
“You think you’re ready for me now?” he asked, sharpening his hold on his own cock to quell it down.
She nodded her head, all the while keeping her hands to the side, the way he preferred.
While all the acts they performed together weren’t new, every time he was with Calleigh, he felt new. Nothing they’d done was earth shattering. Nothing particularly unique, to him at least, or a novel experience. Yet, instilling Calleigh in the mix made everything come alive. His dick was as electrified as his brain was engaged. With her, the ordinary became extraordinary. Routine became exceptional. Sexy became electric.
And tender took on a whole new meaning.
“Scoot down to the edge.” He watched as she did as he directed, levering herself up on her elbows until she bucked up on the bed’s edge right where his cock waited for her.
“Remove your panties and spread your legs further. Use your hands if you have to,” he said as he selected a condom from her nightstand and rolled it up.
As she did, he readied himself to enter her. Slowly, with infinite precision, he pushed inside her tight, wet warmth. More than anything, the only message his brain was sending to his dick was to pound away, fast and hard until both of them were spent. It was a good thing his dick hadn’t controlled him for the better part of fifteen years as mindless fucking wasn’t on his agenda tonight. Slowly, he pushed even further, burying himself as deep as he could go. He looked down to see where they were joined, pride swelling throughout his heart and his hea
d. He knew she’d had sexual partners before. He also knew that she’d never allowed any man the liberties he demanded and took on a nightly basis. Hers was a gift intended to be cherished.
Tonight his sole focus was slow, meticulous strokes, precisely calibrated to bring her to the brink over and over again before allowing her to come. In and out he went, looking at her, looking at their bodies. Enter. Repeat. When he couldn’t stand it anymore, he said, “Are you ready?”
“Yes,” she breathed as she rocked her hips back and forth, completely in tune with the tempo he’d set.
“Come for me, Calleigh, again. I love watching you come.”
Again, she did. After she finished, he unleashed his full power, thrusting as fast as he’d ever moved in his entire life, until he too, was spent. Withdrawing, he pulled his cock out, shiny with her juices, and leaned down to kiss her deeply on the lips. She tasted like cinnamon tonight--sweet and spicy. She grabbed the back of his head when he would have otherwise pulled away and extended the kiss. Breaking the contact, he kept his eyes closed while he nuzzled her nose.
“That was quite a welcome-home present, woman,” he said as he felt her body flush against his. The breasts that refused to be constrained by her oh so pretty demi bra. The stomach that was doing its best to keep up with her lungs as she worked to control her breathing, as affected by tonight as he was.
“Are you saying you enjoyed it?” she asked, as she raised her legs to lock around his waist, bringing him fully on top of her. This was why men were designed to be hard and hairy all over while women were born to be soft, curvaceous and perfectly proportioned.
“Enjoyed it? Hell, it was all I could to do to not shoot off as soon as I saw you. You know that,” he said, rubbing his pelvis against hers, a slow, soft grind so different from the minutes before. “Although, you know, obedient subs never ask for praise. They wait patiently for their partners to tell them how they did. If it’s warranted.”
Immediately, she stiffened underneath him and it felt as though the temperature dropped about twenty degrees in the room with his statement. Fuck.
Bound Hearts Page 20
