Love Will

by Lori L. Otto

  Happy that I have enough cash to cover the tab, I throw the bills in the folder quickly and grab the nearly-full bottle of wine. Shea brings her glass and grabs my free hand as we make our way to the elevator. I pour her a refill once we’re inside.

  “Have you scouted out where, we, uh…” I ask her.

  “The bed looks seriously nice.”

  “Bed it is.”

  “You can look around, too–”

  “There’s no time for that, Shea,” I tell her when the doors open on our floor, walking with purpose to our room. “The card’s in my front pocket,” I direct her as I respond to Damon’s text that asks me how my meetings went. I thank him for the surprise and let him know I’ll fill him in on everything tomorrow.

  “Convenient,” she says, digging around for far longer than she needs to before pulling out our key to open the door.

  “Inappropriate,” I chide her lightheartedly, following her into the suite. “I love it. Need any more wine at the moment?”

  “I’m good.” I make a quick stop at the refrigerator before joining her in the bedroom.

  “My God, would you look at us?” I say, staring at the huge mirror right next to the bed.

  “There we are. Are you a little voyeuristic in nature, Will? Something I need to know about?”

  “I would love to watch you and me… a tantalizing-as-sin woman and a handsome guy… reunite after weeks of abstinence and yearning and fantasizing. How do you feel about leaving the lights on?”

  “I’m confident with myself.”

  “I know you are,” I tell her, pulling back the sheets.

  “Yearning?” she asks.

  “I can’t think of any other word for it,” I admit, letting her take off my tie as I undo my pants and slide them off my legs. “I’ve wanted you from the moment I left you–no, from the moment I arrived in your restaurant.”

  “I see you’re in full-on musician mode tonight.”

  “Implying that I’m lying, I guess,” I say. “I was incredibly undersexed that first night I met you. I’ll put it that way. So I’m not lying. I did want you, and I had to calm myself down a few times. I admittedly want you to fulfill more needs for me now than I did then. And no, not just sexual. I know how you think, Miss Livingston.”

  She grins at me, unbuttoning my shirt and pushing it off my shoulders. I take my tee off and jump at the feel of her cold hands on my bare skin.

  “Sorry.”

  “Don’t be,” I say, holding her hands to my chest and leaning in to kiss her. She steps aside and pushes me lightly until I understand that she wants me on the bed. Fine by me.

  After I lie down on my back, she pries off her shoes and hitches up her lacy red dress, straddling me delicately. I help to settle her, feeling that she’s still wearing her panties under the dress. She looks to her right, admiring the view in the mirror, tracing her fingers down my abdominal muscles. I watch her right in front of me, eventually taking one of her hands in mine and kissing it before tugging until her torso is against mine. Once we’re kissing, I reach beneath her skirt and start working to remove her underwear, only getting them a little way down her thighs before I need her assistance. I peek in the mirror out of the corner of my eye, and realize I can finish the job with my foot, and do just that.

  “Congratulations, Will,” she says. “You are far more talented than I even thought.”

  “I like a challenge… that was an easy one.”

  “What about yours?”

  “A little more difficult with you sitting on me.” She props herself up on her hands and knees, allowing me room to finish undressing myself. When I’m done, she’s got supplies set out beside us in bed, although I don’t think we’re quite ready for them yet.

  She cautiously sinks back against me, her skin against mine, and looks me deeply in the eyes. I sit up, engulfing her in a tight embrace and kissing her again, very mindful of any movements down below.

  “You, uh,” I start, “you gonna keep that thing on all night, or…”

  “I figure I’m safe while I have it on,” she says.

  “Oh, you do?” I ask with a hearty laugh. “That dress is not stopping me from doing anything, Shea. I could do everything I really, really, really want to do to you while you’re wearing it. You just may have to pay more at the dry cleaner tomorrow, that’s all.”

  “Gross, Will,” she says.

  “I’m just trying to warn you.” We both look in the mirror together as we hold one another tightly, my face next to hers. “We look pretty good together.”

  “Spectacular, actually,” she says. “Do we have the same nose?”

  “It’s similar,” I say, looking at them both, back and forth. Hers is just a tad wider, but they both come up slightly at the tip. “It’s a good nose, right?”

  “I like my nose.”

  “I like your nose, too.” I feel her giggle against me. The movement turns me on even more than I already was. After all, I’m having flashbacks of the night she showed me how her body was calling out to mine. I can tell it’s happening again. The only reason I’m stalling is because I don’t want to put the latex in between us right this second. I like how this feels.

  She looks back at me and touches her lips to my nose. I do the same to her before our mouths meet in a deep kiss. I place my hands on her ass to position her better, and finally admit that it’s time to put on the condom. Releasing her with one hand, I reach for the package, trying to be somewhat subtle about it.

  “Shea?” I whisper. “Let’s get the business out of the way here.”

  “Right,” she says, sounding just as disappointed as I feel. She kneels up, allowing me to cover up. It was warm and comfortable without it, but in a few minutes, we’ll both feel twenty times better. Common sense to the rescue.

  She feels her way into position, the red dress still pooled up around her in every direction. I lie back again, guiding her motions as she presses her hands against my chest. Her reflection is beautiful, and I lift the dress up to caress her leg that’s bent against my body. I ache for her, getting more excited as I watch us move together. When I look up at her face in the mirror, she meets my eyes.

  “That’s hot,” I say, running my hand over her behind. Her response is just an impish grin as she pushes harder against me, pulling me deeper into her. “Ohhh…” She does it again with the next thrust, only this time it’s her that lets me know aloud that she likes how it feels. I turn my head to watch her in front of me. The third time, she digs her nails into my skin, bringing a flash of pain that causes the radiating heat I’m feeling to spread out over a wider surface area of my body.

  Shea leans forward, in search of a better angle. I decide to help her by sitting up, crossing my legs, and holding her in my lap. It also allows me to unzip her dress and pull the shoulder sleeves down so I can kiss her collarbone and breasts. Her hips sway as she finds her rhythm. She keeps one arm around my neck and leans back on the bed with the other one. My lips now have no place to find purchase but hers, so we kiss: hard, deep, and breathless.

  I’m definitely turned on and enjoying sex with her, but I don’t think I can get off compl–Fuck! She tightens around me and slows gradually, lifting and falling against me as she whimpers through the kiss. With one hand firmly grasping her shoulder, I guide her body, feeling the way it quivers as her orgasm continues to build. Her palm against my scalp, she kneads it with the tempo of the waves that overcome her.

  I break away from her, unable to hold it in. “Oh, fuck. Oh… fuck!” It’s coming. I’m coming.

  “Will,” she says quietly, pushing against the bed and putting her other arm around me. Suddenly she’s crying in my ear.

  “Oh, shit.” I grab on to her waist and push her back to see her face, forcing myself to stop. “Shea? What’s wrong? Are you okay?” I pull out of her, cringing at the contradictory action of what my body expected to continue doing. With my heavy breathing, I doubt she noticed the pained sigh that accompanied it.

>   “I’m sorry,” she says meekly. “I’m so sorry, Will.”

  “Wha… for what?” I ask, worried.

  “For this,” she says, breaking down. “I’m sorry. I’m overwhelmed… and… I’m sorry I’m crying.”

  “Did I do something wrong?”

  “No, no, no,” she says, caressing my face with both of her hands and kissing the corner of my mouth. “No, Will. This was just a really long day,” she says with the saddest, most adorable eyes I’ve ever seen.

  “And then you flew out here. It’s, what, two in the morning, your time? You shouldn’t have done that.”

  “Oh, God, no, that’s not what I meant either. It was a really hard day. Seeing you was the best part of it. I promise.”

  “Please don’t cry,” I plead with her. “I feel awful. I’ve never made a woman cry during sex. Ever.”

  “This has nothing to do with sex, I promise… except that it strips you down to your most vulnerable and allows you to expose raw emotions to the person you’re with. The person you trust. Has that never happened to you?” she asks.

  “No,” I tell her, shaking my head.

  “Oh.” She swallows. “Sometimes, it feels so good, and I feel so much at one time, that it just floods me with emotions… and I can’t keep it in.”

  “How often does this happen?”

  “Not very… it’s normally when I’m really tired.”

  I smile at her understandingly and push her hair behind her ears. “You poor thing.”

  She fights with the dress that’s now awkwardly clinging to her body since I unzipped it and moved it where I wanted it. “Help me?” she asks.

  “You want it off?” She nods, so I pull the dress over her head and set it at the foot of the bed. After getting up to get us both some water, I climb back into bed, pulling her head into my chest and laying her down next to me, covering us both with the sheets and comforter.

  I reach to turn off the light, then return my hand to her arm and console her until she’s fast asleep. My mind still racing from the earlier meetings, I turn on the television with the volume as low as it will go, catching the final movie in a suspense trilogy that I’d promised to see with Damon in the theater. Since I can’t concentrate on it, it’ll be like I never saw it when I view it a second time.

  These are the kind of dreams I never want to wake up from. I’m in the middle of the ocean, on a huge float, but I’m not stranded. I want to be there, and I have everything I need. It’s a warm day. Not hot. Just warm. And there’s this exotic woman crawling toward me. She’s got on a red skirt. I can’t see under it, but I know she’s not wearing anything else. There are other people floating around us, watching us. They’re far away, but they’re not. Close enough to hear us talk. We don’t speak the same language, though.

  She doesn’t want to talk to me, anyway.

  She pulls back layer after layer of my clothes. I’m not sure why I have on so many clothes. Once I’m naked, she takes a pitcher of warm water and pours it down the middle of my body. Fuck, that feels good. Then she touches me. She puts her hands on my ass and positions herself on her knees. Someone else is there and they take off her skirt. I only see his feet. It was a guy, though. He walks away. On my float… to where?

  Oh, shit, she’s palming my balls with one hand. I try to thank her, but even I don’t understand my language. I jerk when I feel her lips close around me…

  …waking myself up.

  But I was kind of awake already.

  And the lips are still there.

  The woman is still there. Or here.

  “Holy shit.” I’m up on my elbows, trying to get my bearings. No float. No ocean. No onlookers except for myself in a mirror.

  “Good morning.”

  “Oh, God.” I collapse back on the bed. At least, I think that’s what she said to me, because she didn’t fully release me when she spoke. “Holy shit.” I look up again, blink a few times, and finally realize where I am, who I am, and who this beautiful creature is between my legs. I reach down and run my fingers through her unruly, brown hair and massage her scalp until she finally looks up at me. “Fucking fantastic morning.” I say to her. “Please come kiss me.”

  “Busy,” she says with a smile I’ve never seen before.

  “Oh, fuck.” I fall back once more, wiping my eyes just to ensure one last time that I’m not dreaming. Never in my life has this happened to me. You have to spend a whole night with a woman for this to happen.

  It’s fucking happening, Will. Stop analyzing. Start enjoying.

  The thoughts evoked by each and every one of her dirty, little kisses are coming to fruition, but the way it actually feels in real life isn’t something I’d imagined. It’s so much better. But she’s teasing me–over and over and over again. I sense what’s going on. She gets me close–so fucking close–varying her techniques and taking me to the edge–and then she moves on. It’s maddening.

  I finally look up at her after the fourth time, panting, admittedly frustrated. “Shea?”

  “Mmmm?” she hums without releasing me.

  “Gaaaah… you’re killin’ me.”

  She looks up, her tongue trailing up the length of me, then smiles. “Which did you like best?”

  “I don’t fucking care,” I tell her urgently, just needing the release.

  “Will…”

  I push off the bed and onto my knees and pick her up to my height, kissing her fast and hard. It’s probably a good thing she’s got her underwear on, or I might have just taken her like this. When the lightheadedness sets in, I press my forehead to hers. “Every single way you were doing it felt like fucking heaven to me. I swear. But I can only take so much… I’m weak. I want this. I want you.”

  “Heaven?” she asks.

  “I was having conversations with gods… they were cheering me on.” She starts laughing as her hand slides down my body and around me. I inhale quickly.

  “Lie back down. I know what I’m doing.”

  “Nobody doubts that.” I shake my head and do as she says. She climbs up to me and kisses my lips first, then moves her way down again and returns to her third technique which–I may be wrong–but I don’t think any woman has ever performed this maneuver before. She adds a few more touches before I finally get my release. It’s massive, prolonged, and I’m loud, not giving a fuck who hears us.

  I start shivering again like I did that night in her apartment. She’s quick to cover me with her body and blankets, wearing nothing more than her panties and a self-satisfied grin.

  “What happens to you?” she asks, kissing my cheeks and forehead, being tender and… loving.

  “You take everything. It literally feels like life is leaving my body for those few seconds. All the energy I have is depleted. It kind of goes back to our science experiment, really.”

  “Are you saying I suck the life right out of you?” she asks.

  I chuckle and shake my head. “I was not at all trying to say that. But if the shoe fits…”

  I expect her to smack me in the chest or something, but she kisses me softly instead. “Did you like waking up like that?”

  “What do you think?”

  “Ummm… no? You just answered with a question, and you told me that was a negative response.”

  “Oh, shit. Absolutely–no.”

  “No?”

  “Yes.”

  “Yes?”

  “Stop.” I say, releasing her and waving my hands. “Back up. I savored every second of waking up like that, Shea. No woman has even woken me up like that. No woman has ever really, uh… performed like that when I was fully awake, either, to be quite honest with you.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah…”

  “I was hoping you’d say that.”

  “…why?”

  “Because you said you thought you’d experienced everything, and I was hell-bent on making sure you felt something new with me,” she explains.

  “But I already have,” I tell h
er. “That’s why we had the conversation in the first place.”

  She shakes her head. “I did a ton of research on obscure things to do… down there.”

  “Did you really? Research?”

  “I did.”

  “That’s such a turn on. A girl who researches. Just tell me it wasn’t hands on,” I tease, “and I will profess my undying…” I stop myself and take a deep breath. We both let the awkwardness consume the air around us.

  “It wasn’t hands on,” she finally says.

  “Good.”

  “We should probably get up. Check out’s at noon.”

  “Yeah? What time is it?”

  “Ten.”

  “Oh, wow.” She starts to get out of the bed, but I hold on to her arm before she makes it out fully. “Shea?”

  “Mm-hmm?”

  “I love sleeping with you.” She looks a little disappointed when I tell her this, but she repeats the words back to me.

  We shower separately. I let her go first, and when I’m dressed and coming out of the bedroom, I smell bacon.

  “I ordered room service.”

  “Perfect… go ahead and eat. I have something I want to do first.”

  “I already ate,” she confesses sheepishly.

  “Well, good,” I say, finding my guitar by the door to the suite and making sure it’s in tune on the way to the couch near the dining table.

  “I hate cold eggs.”

  “Don’t blame you.”

  “What are you doing?” she asks, turning in her chair to face me.

  “I want to play a song that I was writing for you while I was with you in Minneapolis. Peron and I just finished it this week.”

  “Is it for me?”

  “That’s the working title: For Shea.” There’s a noticeable sparkle in her eye that accompanies her smile. “Damon sings it much better.”

  “I’m sure you’re lying.” I glance at her momentarily and feel myself blush. I still don’t know what I’ll sing for the last lines:

  The pleasure is ours; the future is, too