by Cindy Jacks
Again, he shook his head. Tears glittered in his eyes and he set his jaw against them. “If you don’t love me, Kala, tell me now. If you want something…someone else, tell me now.”
His voice cracked and a tear streamed down his cheek. He swatted at it as if it were a bothersome fly.
“No, Mika. No. I don’t.” She wrapped her arms around herself. “I just get so scared sometimes.”
He nodded, swallowing hard. “You’ve tried to tell me that, tried to show me.”
He walked to the sofa, sinking onto it as if he’d deflated. “All my dad did was work. That’s what a man does. A man provides for his family. The times he was out of work, they crushed him. I don’t ever want you to see me like that so I work hard. I push us forward.”
She sat beside him, perched on the edge of the cushion. “Sometimes I need you to be here now.”
Meeting her gaze, he nodded.
“And I am here. I will always be here. And I will try to listen better.”
Clarissa sighed. His words felt like an apology and she knew she should be the one apologizing. “It’s still no excuse for my behavior. I know I hurt you.”
He laced his fingers with hers.
She went on. “I have to make up for that. You did nothing wrong.”
“That’s not true. You’ve been skittish about marriage and kids from the start. I knew it going into a relationship with you and I know why you feel that way. I thought if I shoved you in the direction I wanted us to go that you’d have to just deal with it, learn to love it.”
“I don’t think that’s going to work.” She gave a halfhearted chuckle.
“No, it’s not.” He smiled weakly. “It hit me last night—after a lot of beer—that if having a baby meant I couldn’t be a chef anymore, I wouldn’t be so gung ho to have a child either.”
She trembled, amazement and relief flooding her.
“But,” he went on, “you have to tell me if you ever get so close…if you ever feel like you need something different again.”
Clarissa let out a hiccup and a sob. “Where you found me last night…you didn’t deserve that.”
His jaw tightened, fighting against tears that wet his lashes. A gulp of air turned into a staccato sigh. “I felt like I couldn’t breathe when I saw his arms around you. I wanted to kill him and handcuff you to me so you couldn’t leave me.”
She closed her eyes and massaged the sockets with the palm of her hands. “Oh Mika, I’m so sorry, but I swear, nothing happened.”
“I know.” He lifted her chin to look at him. “I know that. I trust you and I trust Sione.”
“Can you forgive me?”
He swallowed hard. “Maybe we forgive each other. At least that was Moki’s advice last night.”
Clarissa smiled to herself. Moki, yet another cousin and the night maintenance worker at the resort.
Mika went on. “Mok set me straight. He gave me a shot of tequila and a smack in the head. He told me if I don’t show you that what’s important to you is important to me, there’s always somebody else who will. And he’s right. Sione’s been goofy over you since the day he met you. That much I know. I also know he shares a part of your life that I don’t. He’s an artist and he understands your creative impulses more than I do. If I don’t play my cards right, what’s to stop you from kicking my ass to the curb?”
“Because I’m in love with you, not Sione.”
“Thank God, right?” He fished a scrap of paper out of his pocket. “And I found this. Must’ve gotten washed with my shorts.”
It was the fortune from weeks ago. True understanding is the key to all hearts.
“I figured out what it means,” he said, kissing her gently. “Loving you isn’t just about feeling it or sex or even providing for you. It’s about understanding that you have this beautiful, creative mind and supporting you in your expression of that. I finally get what you’re saying. It’s not what you do, it’s who you are.”
Clarissa squeezed Mika’s hand, unable to speak.
An impish grin parted his thick lips. “And speaking of keys.”
Mika scurried over to the buckets in the foyer and slid one closer.
Clarissa walked over and stared down at the bright-green drum and hoped it didn’t really hold kosher dill pickles. “What’s this?”
“Open it.”
She pried the lid off to find keys, hundreds and hundreds of keys.
“Holy crap! Where’d you get these?” She clapped her hands together, taken aback by the incredible gift.
“I mentioned your sculpture to Moki and he said he knew where I could get at least a thousand of them for free. He led me to the basement storage and showed me these buckets. When the hotel switched from metal keys to the card system, they threw all these in storage and no one has touched them since. I asked the manager if I could take them. He said sure, as long as you mention the donation in the artwork’s signage. Free advertising for them, thousands of keys for you.”
The man beamed with pride.
“You never cease to amaze me. You’re my hero—yet again.”
“Here’s hoping I always will be.” He dipped his head and covered her mouth with his. Pulling her close, Mika folded his arms around her.
No more words, just sweet kisses that built in depth and intensity. He eased her to the floor, wiping away a few stray teardrops. He licked at the sticky trail they left, flicking his tongue gently over her cheeks.
Fixing his gaze on hers—just like the first time they made love—he knelt before her. His eyes glittered with tears but also glowed with a fire she hadn’t seen in a long time. One hand clasping her nape, he drew her closer, brushing his mouth over her lips. She breathed in his scent, drinking him in. He filled her nostrils and lungs, seeped into her pores. He existed in her arms, her heart, her soul—everywhere at once.
“I love you,” she breathed.
Instead of a rote reply, he closed his eyes as if wishing on a star. Brushing his thumb over her cheek, he eased her back, his body weight solid, imposing and thrilling.
Lips grazing over her neck, he worked his way down to her breasts. He freed them from her tank top and worked the nipple with his teeth. She groaned, arching her back. Pure sensation shot from her tit to her cunt. Suckling there until a tight bud punctuated her breast, he moved to the other side. Again, he teased the nub until it was so hard it hurt.
She reached for his shorts but he pushed her hand away, his message clear—the moment belonged to him and him alone. He pulled off the Jams and threw them aside.
As he stripped off her shorts and panties, his hips parted her legs. His cock dotted her thigh with sticky pre-cum. Clarissa wrapped her body around his, ankles intertwined, holding him flush against her pelvis. For the first time in as long as she could remember, she felt sure she understood what she needed and wanted. What she wanted was Mika. Like this. Forever.
He took his time, letting his cock sear a brand against her pussy. Her body pulsed in time with his heartbeat. His tongue opened her mouth in the same way she longed for his cock to open her pussy. Feeding on her, he kissed her as if it might be the last time, but they both knew it wouldn’t be. This was the beginning of their happy ending.
Pushing inside, he filled her. Her core quivered, a sigh on her lips as she spread wider. More than the physical pleasure, she drank in the affection, the renewed faith in herself and her marriage. That the man she loved more than life itself moved inside her set off a rush of emotion. Tears leaked down her face.
Pelvis flush against hers, he rocked against her mound with an intense swaying motion. Breath caught in her throat. The move felt gorgeous, powerful, different from anything he’d ever done. More intimate.
He peppered her face with kisses, then settled his mouth on hers. Their tongues slid against each other, their bodies melding into one. She closed her eyes, still sobbing, but forced herself to focus on the pleasure coursing through her.
She moved against him, her clit rubbing
against his pubis, ecstasy within her grasp. Mika proved he was in no hurry, his undulating strokes taking her higher…higher…and higher still.
He swept her hair across the floor and held her immobile with his massive frame, making love to her with increasing passion. Her body trembled and every thrust pushed her closer to coming. She flicked open her eyelids, but then broke with his stare. He turned her face back toward his. Clarissa gave in to his unfaltering gaze, her chest starting to heave.
“Mika,” she gasped.
“Tell me you’re mine,” he said.
“I’m yours.” She wanted to say more, to tell him she’d always been his, to beg again for his forgiveness, to assure him she was no longer afraid. Not of the future, not of anything as long as she was in his arms, but she was too far gone to speak.
A strong climax shook her. She clutched him closer, grasping his broad back. He buried himself inside, her pussy milking him. His head ducked, rapid exhalations spreading out warmth across her chest, and she felt him coming. The intervals between waves of pleasure and bursts of respiration slowed, at first by effort, then finally by a shared sense of calm.
He withdrew, melting off her and puddling onto the floor. His forefinger traced her bone structure, making a leisurely path from her collarbone to her hips and back again.
“I’m all yours,” Clarissa repeated, sighing.
“I know, baby.” Mika hugged her. “I know.”
* * * * *
Later that night, after Mika had fallen asleep, Clarissa slipped out of bed. Rooting through a ceramic jar on her dresser, she found her fortune from last Sunday’s dinner. Jump in with both feet, it read. Her heart pounded, her palms sweated. She was terrified, but there was no denying she knew exactly what it meant.
Epilogue
One year later
Mika leaned down and gave his wife a kiss. “You feeling okay?”
Clarissa sat at her dressing table, trying to cover her pallor with a little makeup. A bad case of butterflies twisted in her stomach. Waves of nausea threatened to bring up the bit of dinner she’d been able to choke down.
“I could use some soda. Ginger ale, please,” she said.
“Coming right up.”
He returned with ginger ale with a dash of bitters. One of the bartenders at work had recommended it to him as a surefire remedy for a queasy stomach. A few sips doused the sour taste in Clarissa’s mouth. Soon the churning in her tummy settled down too.
Getting to her feet, she scowled at her reflection in the full-length mirror. A floral, knee-length skirt and peasant-style blouse were the only pieces of clothing that still fit her. She’d gained ten pounds in the last month. Water weight, everyone said. Regardless of whether it was water or fat, the extra pounds made her feel like a ripe mango, swelling against its peel. And she’d only just begun to gain weight.
“You look beautiful.” Mika hugged her from behind, gaze fixed on hers in the mirror. “You might not like it, but I love how you’re filling out.”
“Liar.” She shot him a suspicious look, but his erection pressed to her ass confirmed the veracity of the statement.
Lips skimming the back of her neck, he slid one hand down her hips and let it meander to her pert nipples.
With the hormonal roller coaster she was riding, she never knew how she would respond to his overtures. Tonight, he was in luck. Her pulse pounded between her thighs, a surge of arousal tightening her core.
“I just got dressed,” she offered a halfhearted protest, melting against his chest.
Dropping to his knees, he lifted her skirt and slipped her panties down to her ankles. As he stood, he glided his hands up her legs, gathering her skirt over her hips.
She patted the front of his trousers, searching blindly for his fly. Once she felt the button, she unfastened it and unzipped his pants. Pushing down his trousers and boxer briefs, she freed his cock.
Mika eased her forward, running one hand over her bare buttocks, letting his fingertips brush over her pussy lips. Tongue teasing her earlobe, he opened her with two fingers. Already swollen and throbbing, her cunt clenched tightly.
“God, you’re so soft and wet,” he whispered, lips tickling her ear.
Goose bumps rose on her arms. She reached behind with one arm, caressing his neck and silky hair. Kissing a path down her neck and shoulders, he pressed his mushroomed head to her opening. As he filled her, she sighed.
One hand against the wall, she pushed back to meet his forward strokes. Ripples of pleasure radiated from her pussy through her entire body. His hot exhalations grazed over her skin, the scent of musk and his cologne filling her nostrils. He seeped into her pores, coursed through her veins, taking over her senses.
Breath urgent and ragged, she struggled to draw in enough air. Every sensation amplified, she felt as if she could come any second. Mika caressed her nipples, sending a jolt of ecstasy straight to her cunt. Spasming, her pussy tightened around his shaft. A hiss escaped his lips, but he continued the steady rhythm, licking and sucking at her neck.
Small tremors grew in intensity. She braced herself for the impending climax, could feel that it was more powerful than usual and would hit her like a truck. As soon as the contractions began, her knees buckled. Mika snaked an arm around her waist, holding her flush against his body. Whimpering and panting, she weathered the storm of pleasure. One of the few perks of early pregnancy—the sex was fucking fantastic.
Gaze fixed on her reflection in the mirror, he pushed his cock into her all the way to the base and then held her still. Biting her shoulder softly, Mika quaked, his torso undulating as he came. A little of his cum leaked down her thigh.
Breathless, she chuckled, resting her head against her hand on the wall.
“Now I’m all messy,” she teased.
“I’d apologize, but I’m not really sorry.” He kissed her cheek and carefully withdrew.
“Me neither.” She chuckled. Wrangling her undies, she righted her skirt and skittered off to the bathroom to clean up.
Once she had freshened up, she emerged from the bathroom and inspected her reflection in the full-length mirror again.
“I guess this is as good as it’s going to get.” She sighed.
Wrapping his arms around her, Mika kissed her. “Do I have to show you again how sexy you are?”
“Believe me, I’d rather spend the night in bed with you.”
“I know you’re dreading this, but I think you’ll regret it if you don’t put in an appearance.”
Nodding, she replied, “Yeah. Let’s go before I change my mind.”
His arm protective around her, Mika planted a kiss on top of her head as they walked to the driveway. He opened the van door and ushered her inside.
“I can open a door for myself. I’m pregnant, sweetheart, not dying.”
“I know,” he said, climbing in the driver’s side. “But I don’t want you to hurt yourself. Your joints are all rubbery now, you know.”
Heaven help her. She’d had to hide the tattered copy of What to Expect When You’re Expecting his mother had given them. Everything the damn book said he’d taken to heart. It was going to be a long six months, though he meant well.
A crowd of cars lined the streets of Honolulu that led to the Performing Arts Center. A symphony of steel and glass in its own right, the building arched and curved into a graceful round, hollow space. Perfect acoustics, not that Clarissa knew much about such things.
Mika turned the VW over to a valet and helped her climb the steps to the front door. Inside a crush of people in floral fabrics of all kinds milled around, the general din of mixed conversation hummed in her ears. Smoked glass doors to the inner lobby bore a red ribbon binding their handles together. One of the mayor’s aides greeted her with a lei. The pungent scent of plumerias set off a fresh bout of nausea. She sent Mika on a mission for more ginger ale, with or without bitters.
He returned with fizzy beverages in three champagne flutes. One for her—the requested soda to
settle her stomach. Two for him. He tossed back the glasses of sparkling wine.
“Nervous?” she asked.
“Hey, I’m drinking for two now.”
Scanning the sea of faces, she picked out Sione and Michelle. They hurried over, arms held wide.
“Sistah, congratulations.” Sione hugged her.
Michelle followed suit and teased, “Yeah, we’re not too jealous.”
“Thank you, guys, for coming.” Tears sprang into her eyes. Damn hormones.
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.” Michelle hijacked Clarissa’s glass. “Should you be drinking this?”
“It’s ginger ale and I’m going to vomit all over you if you don’t give it back.”
Michelle made a show of folding Clarissa’s hand around the flute and patted it.
More family showed up. Mika’s mother, Moki and more of the cousin posse. Even Tutu Leilani came and patted Clarissa’s belly, which hadn’t yet begun to show.
“Some skinny, girl. You need eat mo’,” Tutu said, filling out her own muumuu with voluminous amounts of flesh. The mother of seven children, she knew a thing or two about pregnancy. Clarissa would’ve loved to eat, if only she could keep something down. Mika gave her an emergency saltine. He’d taken to carrying a baggie of them in his pocket.
Her own mother had come all the way from Florida for the event. Helen hugged her close and kissed her cheek. “I couldn’t be more proud of you, sweet pea.”
“Thanks, Momma.”
“My baby.” Mom cupped her hands around Clarissa’s cheeks. “Artist and mommy-to-be.”
“Momma,” Clarissa chided.
“All right. I’m just so thrilled. And when does your position with the school start?”
“In the fall. The Art 4 Kids grant is for the next school year. I should be big as a house by then.”
“You got someone to cover for you while you’re on maternity leave?”
Clarissa glanced at Sione and Michelle. “Yep, we’re good to go.”
The lights flickered on and off as the mayor stepped up to the podium to speak. For Clarissa, the speech dragged on in un-air-conditioned agony, but finally the man cut the ribbon and ushers pulled the doors wide. More aides led Clarissa and Mika inside with the other artists.
