by Shey Stahl
I’m sweating so badly that when he rises, our bodies stick together. He gets up on his knees with me still flat on my stomach and then takes both his hands to grip my ass again, moving me the way he wants. My ass bounces on him, each movement more forceful than the last until he suddenly stops and brings my hips up so I’m on my hands and knees before him.
I look back over my shoulder at him. He’s certainly not done with me.
I’m not going to lie; we probably try every position. Reverse cowgirl, missionary, doggie, spooning, crisscross. I had a pillow under my ass, my ankles wrapped around my ears, all that and loving every single minute of it.
Thirty-one minutes into it, yes, thirty-one exotic minutes, I’m soaking wet from sweat, as is Tathan, my legs burn. I’m shaking, and well, I feel fucked. I’ve had at least three orgasms while Tathan fought off two and came a little on my stomach, twice when he scrambled to stop and couldn’t.
At the thirty-two-minute mark, Tathan is panting, and I’m right there with him. I’m making some sort of similar noise, but it’s more like what you’d expect from someone who was having a panic attack.
We’re in the missionary position again, my hands on his ass as he pounds into me whispering dirty words. I certainly don’t need much friction down there anymore, and with the way his pubic bone presses against me with his hard thrusts, it’s easy.
I have to say it’s the best part about the entire event. Aside from his kissing. It’s that I didn’t even have to try to have an orgasm.
With his head buried against my neck, certainly not speaking, his hips meet mine with erratic forceful movements.
“Shit. . . I’m sorry,” he mutters, as if I’m going to be disappointed he lasted half an hour. A violent growl emits from him while his body trembles, the room echoing our desperate cries.
The entire thing intensifies as he arches his back and fists my hair into both of his hands that are cradling my face.
He has nothing to be sorry about, and I think he knows this when he feels just how easily he slides in and out of me in those last few moments. We both gasp, our bodies trembling together as his movements slow.
Tathan sighs, letting go of my hair and rolls off me, his breathing ragged. “Jesus. . . .”
“That’s what I’ve been missing out on?” I sit up on my elbows and cock an eyebrow at him.
“Uh. . . .” He breathes heavily, watching my face, looking for any hint of satisfaction.
I don’t think he understands what I was implying, so I straddle him. “I meant that in a good way, Tathan. Now how long does this beast take to get ready again?” I gesture toward his monster between my legs.
“I could go all night long.” I go to climb on top again, half joking because I don’t think there is any way I could go again that soon, and he stops me. “I need a minute here.”
Just as we’re getting ready for round two, Jade is knocking on my door. “Amalie! I gotta go to work.”
“Shit.” I scramble to get to the door with a sheet covering my naked body.
When I get the door open, Jade frantically sets Oliver down inside my apartment and then jets out the door as I thank her.
“No prob!”
I’m not fast enough to get to Oliver, but thankfully, he doesn’t go into my room and instead camps out on the couch and closes his eyes like he’s exhausted.
When I get back to my room and close the door, Tathan’s waiting. “Round two?”
“Deal.”
We do go all night long. Turns out the Muff Magic Mate had some entertaining items in it. Penis boy knew his muff magic.
Sunday mornings are no longer spent on my couch with Oliver.
Now they’re spent in bed, with Tathan, the heat of our bodies warming cool sheets.
After three weeks of him being a part of our bed, Oliver is starting to come around to the idea of another man in my life. I wouldn’t go as far to say he likes Tathan, but he doesn’t pee on him anymore. It’s a start.
Do you remember the deal?
Tathan made me a bet he could make me fall in love with him.
You know when you agree to something, and then you think to yourself, what did I get myself into? Surely, I shouldn’t have agreed to this.
It’s like those time-share things where they say, hey, for only a small investment—thousands of dollars—you can stay here at our beach house anytime you want.
What they don’t tell you is that every weekend you want to stay there, guess what? It’s fucking booked. And then the one weekend you’re allowed to stay there, a hurricane comes through, and you’re stuck inside the entire time.
Sound familiar?
We’ve all been there, or maybe just me. But have you ever agreed to date a guy with the deal that you wouldn’t fall in love with him?
That’s like going to Target and saying you’re only going to spend twenty bucks. I think it’s nearly impossible. At least that’s been my experience.
And this, my friends, dating a guy with the absolute determination not to fall in love with him is nothing like I’ve experienced.
“When will you be back?” I ask, intertwining our fingers together, my head on his chest, listening to his light breathing. Pathetic. I’m totally, utterly pathetic because while he made me a bet, again, hours ago, it’s a done deal already.
I’m.
In.
Love.
“I come back on Thursday,” Tathan tells me, his lips brushing my temple. “And then I’m taking you away for the weekend.” He glances down at Oliver who’s sleeping between us. He’s getting a little big to be doing this, too. “Without the dog.”
I laugh when Oliver growls. He certainly understands more than we give him credit for.
“What’s the matter with having the dog there?”
Tathan gives me that look. The one that says, I’d be fucking you right now if it wasn’t for the dog. He doesn’t dare move him, been there, done that, and he has the bite mark on his arm to prove it.
“He likes you now,” I point out.
“Yeah, right.” He laughs. “Last night he took my shoes and put them in the toilet.
I’d forgotten about that. Maybe they weren’t friends just yet, but they would be. Oliver’s a sucker for a good guy. Or maybe that’s just me.
When Colton fucked me over, I thought, no, I knew I’d never love again. Until Tathan Madsen pushed his way into my life and hot-tub time.
Back when my dad was sick, he said some pretty crazy things at the time. His mind had been going for a while and near the end, he finally made sense. He told me to save the best of my heart for the one who’d love me at my worst. Worst meaning broken by love. Or I assume that’s what the crazy guy meant.
I thought, at the time, he’s losing it, but now. . . now it finally makes some sense. We all need someone to show us despite our breaks, the cracks from being deceived, we’re worth loving again.
Tathan sits up, the crack of his bare ass just barely visible under the sheets. He has an adorable crack. “I should get up. If I’m going to make it to Santa Monica by tonight, I need to get on the road.”
Uneasiness settles in my chest. Suddenly, like any girl falling in love, I’m worried about him. “It’s a six-hour drive.”
He raises an eyebrow. “Maybe if you’re driving.”
“True.” I sit up with him, cradling a sleeping Oliver in my arms like a baby. “Guess it’s going to be a week in the hot tub by myself,” and I say this with such dejection, he actually laughs at me.
He stands, still laughing, and reaches for his shorts on the end of my bed. “This deal is going to be so easy.”
I can’t keep my eyes from traveling south, sliding with ease from his cut stomach to that sharp V of his hips. Lower. . . even lower. Yep. He’s certainly beautiful everywhere. I swallow, snapping my eyes to his, finally. “What are you talking about?”
“You. Me. This.” He pulls his shorts on and searches the floor for his shirt. “It’s going to be easy to get
you to fall in love with me.”
I move Oliver so he’s on my pillow and then stand on the other side of my bed. “You’re pretty sure of yourself there, dude.”
He grins when he notices I’m wearing his shirt and steps around the end of the bed, making his way to me. “Why are you wearing my shirt?”
I shrug, trying to do that whole, “I’m cute in your clothes” look but probably failing miserably. “Because I look better in it.”
He’s standing before me now, towering over me with the silly smirk he has when he knows what I’m saying is true. “I have to agree with you. Now kiss me goodbye. I need to shower.”
Wrapping my arms around his shoulders, I rise on my tippy toes to kiss him. “Wouldn’t you want to stay here with me all day?”
“I would, but I’m booked out a year. I wasn’t lying when I told Becca that, and I won’t cancel.” He kisses me, long, the kind of kiss you give someone just before leaving. A reminder of your presence long after you’re gone. “You could come with me.”
It’s tempting, it is, but sadly I can’t. “I have to work.”
“Paul would—”
“Nope,” I say, cutting him off. “I got that job myself, and I’m not about to play that card. The one that says I’m fucking the boss man’s son so I should be able to come and go as I please.”
“And that’s why I. . .” He pauses, his smirk turning into a full-fledged grin. “. . .like you.”
Yeah, sure, that’s what he was going to say.
Dropping my hands from his shoulders, I push him back. “Go. Before I tie you to my bed and hold you hostage as my own personal sex slave for the week.”
He laughs, capturing my wrists in his hands and drawing me back to his chest. “Now that sounds a hell of a lot better than shooting a wedding in Santa Monica.”
“It does, but you’re a man of your word so keep it.”
The look he gives me is something similar to appreciation, and adoration. He knows I wouldn’t ask him to give up anything for me, and more importantly, he wouldn’t go back on his word. “I’ll call you when I get there?”
“Yeah, that sounds good.” I watch his back muscles as he twists around, heading for the door.
He pauses at my bedroom door. “One more thing. . . .” He turns, glancing over his shoulder.
“Yes?”
You tell me, but doesn’t he look, well, in love? It’s written all over his face and the intensity in his eyes when he stares at me. And then he surprises me and says, “No hot tubbing without me.”
I laugh. “Deal.”
I’ve never liked losing a bet. I once lost a game of poker and cried for an hour. Given, I lost a hundred bucks on that game, but I don’t know anyone who likes losing. When it comes to falling in love—and my fragile heart—I’m even more terrified.
And this is Tathan Madsen we’re talking about. It’s not like falling in love with your average hot guy. He’s famous, attractive, and easy to like. I bet you liked him back when you first met him that morning in the office, didn’t you?
My point is, now that I’m alone, in my apartment and missing him. . . I don’t know how to process what’s happening or how to tell him I’ve lost our deal.
I need Casey. I need a “how to” guide from someone who knows what’s up.
“I need your help, Casey.”
There’s lots of moaning and breathing come through the line and I’m contemplating hanging up. “Why? What did you do now?”
I chew on my fingernails and then drop my hand when I taste the polish I’m chewing on. “What’s that noise?”
“We’re newlyweds. What do you think the noise is?”
I can’t say I blame her. “Can you stop for a minute?”
“No. Bryan has to work later. We’re in a hurry. I’m ovulating.”
It takes me a minute to understand exactly what she said. Ovulating. What’s that mean?
And then it hits me. “Holy shit. You’re trying to have a baby?”
Casey laughs, kind of breathless and then I hear, “Fuck, get off the phone, baby. . . .” Lots of heavy breathing follow. . . and sloppy noises, like they’re kissing.
As much as I want to hang up, I don’t. “I seriously need your help, Casey. I love him. He’s won.”
“And the problem?”
I throw my hands up in the air. “I don’t know.” That’s the problem, I don’t. I thought I knew what love was. I thought I knew how it felt and told myself I’d never feel that way again. Then Tathan pushed his way into my life, rewrote my ending, and I realized I’d torn out a few pages in hopes I’d forget that feeling.
One thing is certain. My life will never be the same again. Because of that jerk. Tathan. I’m talking about Tathan.
Casey sighs. “Amalie, there is absolutely nothing wrong with falling in love with Tathan. You’re being ridiculous. Just tell him.”
“He’s in Santa Monica shooting a wedding.”
“Tell him when he gets back.” And then the line goes dead, and I’m assuming Bryan hung up on me because I’d like to think Casey wouldn’t do such a thing in my time of need.
I GO FOR a swim that afternoon—avoiding the hot tub like I said I would—and then I take Oliver for a walk. The whole time, I can’t stop thinking about Tathan and wondering if he’s made it to Santa Barbara yet. I make a mental note that if I don’t hear from him by seven tonight, I’m calling all the hospitals from here to California and checking on him.
I’m so paranoid. I’ve always been that way.
My body jolts forward when Oliver yanks on his leash, barking at something in the distance. He’s getting big enough now I can’t pick him up when he’s being naughty, like now, when he decides to chase a lizard up the stairs.
Stumbling around, I yank on his leash. “Dude, lizards don’t taste good. Why are you chasing him?”
Just as we get to the top of the stairs, Oliver comes to an abrupt halt, and I do a tumble over the top of him and land on my back staring up at the sky.
A woman in black strappy pumps stands next to me, her legs looking like they go all the way to heaven. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” I scoff, glaring at my dog I might put in a box on the side of the road later with a Free sign. I won’t, but my sore ass is contemplating it. “You’re a jerk, Oliver.”
He doesn’t listen to me. He’s too busy staring at the lizard on the wall, taunting him.
The woman reaches for my hand, helping me up. I stand, brushing off my swimsuit cover-up, and then eye black strappy pumps in front of me. Mostly because do you see whose door she’s standing at? The one across the hall.
Do you happen to notice she has a key in her hand?
Let’s think about this for a moment, shall we? Maybe he has a really attractive maid he didn’t tell me about? Long lost sister I didn’t know about? Cousin? And dare I ask. . . aunt?
She looks to be around my age, and as if she’s straight out of a Cosmopolitan magazine cover. Long, waist-length blonde hair that has that blown-out beachy effortless waves look, with golden skin, bright blue eyes. . . absolutely nothing like me and my dark hair, “I never dye it” pale and “I never take my clothes off” skin.
She smiles at me over her shoulder and unlocks his door.
Un.
Locks.
It.
“Are you Tathan’s neighbor?”
Oliver, who’s standing next to me now, concerned for his mommy and her rapid heartbeat, I’m sure, growls at her. I yank on his leash. “You could say that.”
“Oh, well. . . .” Leaving the door open, she moves across the hall and reaches for my hand. “I’m Tathan’s fiancée. Nice to meet you. I’m sure we’ll be seeing more of each other soon.”
What.
The.
Fuck.
You’re thinking it too, aren’t you? I fell in love with a liar. Again.
Fuck love. Straight up, fuck you, love.
I hate you.
A pint of ice cre
am and pan of brownies later, I’m on the couch, curled up next to Zane crying. “I can’t believe I let another man inside me.”
“You’re talking about your heart, right? Just so we’re clear, because there are multiple meanings behind that statement.”
Raising my head, I scowl at him, tears rolling down my cheeks. He brushes them aside, tenderly. “Yes, Z. I’m talking about my heart.”
He laughs lightly. “I’m sure this is a misunderstanding.” Pointing to my ringing phone, he gives me that look. The one that says, pick up the fucker. It’s been ringing nonstop for the last hour. All calls from Tathan probably trying to explain his lying ass.
“No. He should have told me about her.”
“Who? Selma? The chick in his apartment?”
I sit up. “You mean his fiancée?”
In a quick movement, Zane steals my phone and answers it. “You have some explaining to do, Mr.,” Zane says, though his voice is anything but serious. Tathan says something, and then Zane nods. “Yeah, she knows now. You should have warned her. She’s not happy and currently in a sugar-coma, “I hate men” tirade.”
They talk.
I glare.
Sure, I’d been avoiding the calls because, in all honesty, I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear his excuses. Having a fiancée is something that should come up in the friend zone, not the deal zone.
Zane pulls the phone away, holding his hand over the speaker. “He’s on his way home.”
“What?” I shout. “He’s shooting a wedding this week. He can’t come back tonight.”
Zane shrugs and tells Tathan, “She looks like her head’s going to explode.”
I rip the phone from his hand. “Listen, asshole. It’s one thing to lie to me, but I like you because you honor your responsibilities. Or liked you. Past tense. I hate you now. But if you cancel on that wedding, you’re an even bigger asshole than I originally thought.”
I wait, and I don’t know why I do because I’d certainly convinced myself tonight I wouldn’t listen to his lame excuse as to why he hadn’t told me about Selma.
He sighs, heavily. “Amalie.” I listen closely to his tone and imagine what he looks like. Probably sitting there, tugging at his hair, eyes tired, three, maybe four empty beers in front of him. “Fuck. . . I didn’t know she was coming back to town.”
