Because Beards
Page 15
I scream and twist in his arms; it’s too much, but I love it. I want less and more at the same time. I can’t take any more of this, but then he’s back up, his mouth taking mine in rough possession, tasting of me and still the wine from earlier. He rolls on a condom and his cock slides into me, hot and tight, and we both exhale a breath at the same time, and when he starts moving, it’s the best bliss I can imagine.
I usually close my eyes at orgasm, but this time I want to see, I want to see him come. I want to see him burst with passion for me, and we lock eyes. It’s too intimate but I can’t look away. He reaches down to finger my clit and says, “Come,” and I let go, tossing back my head and closing my eyes finally as the feeling surges and bursts in an unreal explosion. He comes too, and gives a rough cry, his body so hard and tense on mine, and then we fall together side by side, spent, letting the bliss flow over us.
It’s fast, but it’s right. And when he reaches over and grabs my hand and kisses it, still out of breath, my heart melts and I’m confident that this night is a beginning, not an end.
Arie
“I’m so glad we met at that grocery store exactly one year ago today,” he says, kissing me on the mouth.
I blush and touch his face. “Happy one year dating anniversary to you, too. I got you a present.” I smile at him and bounce on my toes.
“Oh, you did?” His voice goes low and husky. “Can I unwrap it right now?” He undoes the top button of my blouse and flicks the material aside. “Can I guess what it is?” He drops a kiss onto my neck, letting his lips linger.
I close my eyes and sigh, enjoying the feel of his mouth and his hands on my body. “Of course. You get three tries.”
“Oh, I do? Just three?” He opens another button and cups my breast through the bra. “Here’s one.” He reaches back to squeeze my ass. “Two.” Then he strokes the front of my skirt right at the apex of my thighs, a touch that melts me even through the fabric. “And three. How about these three?”
“Good choices,” I murmur, grabbing both of his ass cheeks through his jeans. I’ll never get tired of his ass – so hard and sexy. “But there’s something else, too.”
“Something else? Really?” He bites my earlobe and I squeak out.
“A real thing! A present.”
“Oh, this is as real as it gets,” he argues, and smacks my ass once.
I yelp. “Something in a box.”
“I want the box,” he agrees, and laughs, rubbing more insistently.
I push his hand back. “First you can open this, though. Then you can have my…box. You’re gross.”
“You love it.” He’s arrogant and confident and he’s right. I do love it. But I really want to give him his present.
I grab a gift bag from the counter and thrust it at him. “Here. You can open it now.”
“For me?” His face lights up, eager, like a kid at Christmas, and he grabs out the fluffed up tissue paper and tosses it to the floor. “I still have no idea why you women put this crap in here.” But he’s pawing through it to get to the prize. “What it is?” He pulls out the small black velvet box and shakes it. “I hope it’s a jeweled butt plug that I get to put into your ass.”
“Stop! It’s not that. If I get you that, you’re not going to find it in a box. I’ll surprise you by wearing it to bed one night.”
His hands freeze on the bag. “Really?” I’ve never heard a more interested voice.
“Yes, but right now focus on the present. Come on!” I can’t wait to see how he likes it.
“Fine.” He flips the lip open. “Aw, Arie, that’s sweet.” He takes it out.
“It’s for your desk,” I say, suddenly nervous that he won’t like it. That it’s dumb. “Like a paperweight thingie. Decoration, I guess. To be cute. Although, I mean, if you don’t like it, you can just leave it…on the counter.” I wave around the room.
“Babe, it’s awesome.” He smiles and kisses me. His beard tickles but I love it.
I’ve given him a silver-plated fortune cookie with our names inscribed on it, and a fortune on paper wound through it: “I love you.”
Fortunes have become our joke, now, along with refunds. Sometimes when we’re in bed, I’ll tease him: “You still owe me a forty percent refund, you know.” And he’ll say something really awesome and dirty like, “Sorry, babe, I only give one hundred percent all the time. Here’s your refund right now. Enjoy.” Bam. Or maybe, “You can get as much refund as you can suck out of my nice hard dick, Arie.” And then he’ll stick his cock in my mouth, or my pussy. You get the idea. It’s fun. We have fun. Oh, we spend a lot of time talking – our conversations range from politics to literature to TV shows. We argue and laugh. Ever since that first night when we drank wine and made love, those first few words together were the start of a waterfall of sentences, torrents of thoughts that we share on a daily basis.
But the sex is fantastic, and I’m not sorry to say it.
“I’ll put it at work tomorrow,” he promises. “And I don’t care how many jokes Nate and the guys make about it.”
“They won’t!”
“Uh, probably. I can see it now. They’re all going to take turns putting horrible fortunes in there. But it’s all good.” He smiles and puts the box on the counter. Then he looks at me. “I got you something, too.”
“You did?” I’m excited. We discussed dinner for our one-year anniversary, but said we wouldn’t do gifts. I cheated by getting him this one. I have no idea what he’s giving me.
He pulls a small box out of his pocket, smaller than the one I gave him. My heart starts to hammer in my chest.
“Is it earrings?” I babble. “I love earrings. Everyone knows that they’re a perfect gift. Or a keychain.” I give a weak giggle. I can’t breathe. I don’t want to assume anything.
There’s a stain of red on his face and I think I see his fingers tremble. Oh, God.
“It’s not earrings,” he says, his voice low. “Or a keychain. It’s a promise.”
“A promise?”
He nods, and takes my hand. “A promise to be yours forever, and to take care of you as long as I can. A promise to stick by you, even if the wrong fortunes get delivered to our doorstep. What do you say?”
He lets go of my hand and gives me the box. When I open it, I can’t see anything, because tears blur my eyes, but when I blink, there’s a diamond on a platinum band, a simple beautiful diamond. And there’s all the love in the world, everything I’ve ever wanted.
“Yes,” I say. “Yes.”
“Yes?” He stands up and takes me into his arms.
I was right when I met him; I felt that we belonged together, and it was true. We fit, we work, we complete each other in ways I could never have imagined. I don’t believe in fate, but I do believe in grabbing opportunities while they’re there. And I can’t deny that some part of me feels that fortune has been smiling on us.
“Yes.” I reach up to kiss him, and nothing has ever felt more right. Together, we will make our own fortunes.
About Alexis Alvarez
Alexis Alvarez is an author, photographer, and digital designer who loves writing steamy romances. Her female heroines are always strong, intelligent women who fall for the sexiest guy around…and get the happy-ever-after ending of their dreams.
You can usually find Alexis hanging out with her family or her sisters, who are also romance writers, at their website, Graffiti Fiction. The three of them love to drink wine together and laugh like hyenas while making dirty jokes and inappropriate comments. Their mom is very proud.
Alexis loves meeting new people on Facebook, so please come on by and say hello. Thanks and happy reading!
Website: graffitifiction.com
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7:21 p.m. Saturday
“We’re going to need a complete statement,” the detective stated flatly. “Something that makes sense. So far, all we’ve got from you is a bunch
of jibberish. We can’t go to the District Attorney’s office with what you’ve given us. We need more. A lot more. You’re in a world of shit, missy. Now, help us help you.”
There were at least two problems. One, I didn’t want them to go to the attorney’s office. And, two, if I told them the complete truth, I’d be stuck in prison.
Visions of being prison bitch to some woman named Bad Betty filled my mind. Within a matter of seconds, I began to blurt out lies infused with bits and pieces of the truth.
Only because I knew I’d never make it in prison.
Well, that, and the fact I really, really liked Bradley.
And his beard.
“What do you mean, help you help me?”
Cop number two sat down across from me. He smelled like fast food and unwashed polyester, which made sense considering the fact his suit was grease-stained and made of the age-old fabric. I glanced at cop number one.
He shrugged.
I lowered my head for a moment, feigned deep thought, and looked up. The interrogation room was just like what I had seen on T.V. – small with windows on one side and a stainless steel table in the center.
A table I was handcuffed to.
Cop number two cleared his throat. “We don’t want to see you take the fall for the crime. We know you weren’t involved. But, if you don’t help us get the man who is involved, you’re all we’ve got. So, you’ll go down for the crime. We want to help you walk out of here, but we need your help to make that happen. Does that make sense?”
I lifted my head. “I suppose.”
“Now,” he said. “Tell us exactly what happened, and don’t leave any details out. Try to remember everything.”
I nodded. “Okay. The truth, right?”
He shook his head. “We can’t help you if you lie to us.”
I looked at cop number one. He tossed his hands in the air. “Let’s lock her up.”
“Hold on,” I blurted. “I’ll tell you everything.”
“Start talking,” cop number one said.
I nodded, and then relaxed into the chair as much as the handcuffs would allow. “Okay.” I sighed lightly. “I was walking, and this guy came running up behind me. He was in a big hurry.”
Cop number two cocked an eyebrow. “At the bank on Tenth and Cormack?”
“Yes. Well, around the corner from the bank.”
“Continue.”
“I was just out walking. I do it all the time. So, I was walking by, and he came up and handed me this bag. He pointed the gun at me, and said here, hold this or I’ll drop you where you stand.”
“And what did you take that to mean? What did you think that he meant by that?”
“He was going to shoot me if I didn’t accept the bag.”
“What happened next?”
“I took the bag, followed him—”
Cop number two interrupted. “Did he say you had to follow him?”
“He had a gun, remember?”
He nodded. “Continue.”
“So, I followed him to the car, and I tossed the money in the back. In the trunk. And then he said get in or die. Those exact words.”
“And you got in?”
“Uh huh. I didn’t think I had a choice. Basically, he took me hostage.”
Cop number one came to the edge of the table, leaned over, and looked right at me.
“The silent alarm sounded at 6:01. At 6:08, there were officers on the scene. He – and you – were gone. You were apprehended at 6:28. What happened for those twenty minutes? What did he talk about? Did you hear anything about what his name was or where he was going? Did anyone call him?”
“Oh, yeah,” I lied. “He got a phone call.”
“Did you overhear anything?”
“Well,” I feigned deep thought. “He said this is Steve when he answered, so his name must be Steve. And, he said meet me at the warehouse on 143rd and Racine.”
Cop number two’s eyes shot wide. “143rd and Racine?”
143rd and Racine was actually ten miles from where we were at the time, but it was pretty obvious they knew nothing regarding who Bradley was or where he was going. I nodded nonetheless. “That’s what he said.”
“And then what happened?”
“Well, we were at the corner of 13th and, I don’t know, about Belfast, I think. He turned the wheel, smashed the gas, and spun the car really fast in a circle. While it was spinning, he reached over and opened my door. That’s when I spilled out in the street.”
“Where was the gun?’
I returned a confused look. “When?”
“If he was steering with one hand, and opening the door with another, where was the gun?”
I shrugged. “I have no idea.”
They looked at each other, shared a silent moment, and then cop number two looked at me. “So, you weren’t with him earlier in the night?”
“Oh, no. Not at all,” I lied.
“And, you weren’t an accomplice?”
I shook my head. “A hostage. I was a hostage.”
He pursed his lips, eventually nodded his head, and then unlocked the handcuffs. “Alright. You’re free to go. See the desk sergeant to get your cell phone and purse.”
I stood up and looked around the room. “Just like that, I can go?”
“Yeah,” he said. “But don’t leave town. We may have some other questions.”
“Okay,” I said with a shrug. “I’ll be at home or at work.”
And, just like that it was over.
The interrogation, anyway.
But, it was at that moment that my life, for the most part, began.
4:02 p.m. Saturday
I grinned a grin until it hurt, and thanked God that Josh was no longer a part of my life. Shari and I decided if there was one sure-fire way to rid myself of the memories of him, a celebration at the neighborhood tavern was it.
We’d been planning it for over a week.
“Here, drink it.” She handed me a shot of something milky. “The douchebag is finally gone.”
“What is it?”
“Rumchata. Just drink it.”
“Okay.”
“Here’s to no more Josh.” She raised her glass.
“Hear, hear,” I said. I downed the cinnamon-flavored drink and slammed the glass down on the table.
It felt good to be rid of the asshole who had done his best to intimidate me, control me, and limit my activities away from home.
The bar was mere blocks from my home, but I had never been in it. A hang-out for the local men of the single variety, Josh obviously felt uncomfortable with the level of competition the establishment offered him.
With Shari and I planning an all-day drunk-fest, I raised my bottle of beer to my lips and scanned the bar. Although it was filled with attractive men, one clearly stood out as being exceptionally nice-looking.
“Oh my God. Three o’clock,” I whispered.
Shari shook her head. “No, it’s already after four.”
“No.” I tilted my head to the side. “The guy. Three o’clock.”
She turned to her side and glanced over her right shoulder. “Holy crap,” she gasped. “He’s—”
I nodded. “Yeah, I know.”
Dressed in black slacks, a powder-blue dress shirt, and a vest, he looked like he just finished a business meeting and came to celebrate his having secured a new client. He was tall, had a broad chest, and short, well-groomed hair. His hazel eyes glistened unlike any I had ever seen, and were drawing me in like a magnet.
But. One thing that made him stand out more than anything was his awesome beard.
Groomed close to his face where it met his hairline, but rather long and bushy along his jaw and chin, it was nothing short of beard perfection. I stared in awe of its – and his – magnificence for several long seconds.
With his eyes fixed on the back door, he lifted his glass to his lips and took a long drink. The fitted shirt he wore clung to his bicep like a coat of paint, leaving n
othing of his muscularity to the imagination.
“Holy crap,” I whispered. “Look at his arms.”
“Stop it,” Shari said through her teeth. “He’ll see you.”
“Another shot?” the waitress asked.
I tore my eyes away from my bearded friend and glanced at the waitress. Shari did the same.
“Sure two more.” Shari’s eyes met mine. “Rounds, not shots.”
I grinned. “This is going to be an awesome night.”
“Early starts make for the best nights,” she said. “We’re going to make up for three years of lost time.”
I nodded in agreement and raised my bottle of beer. Our overly efficient waitress delivered the four shots to the table with a grin a moment later, and we downed them without a moment’s thought.
Beers and shots followed one after the other, and within an hour or so, I was feeling little – if any – pain.
“I’ve got to pee,” I said.
“I’ll go when you get back,” Shari said. “I don’t want to lose our table.”
“Okay.”
I grabbed my purse, turned toward the bathroom, and began to walk away. Carefully placing each foot in front of the other, and at least attempting to look sophisticated, I intentionally walked past the bearded wonder positioned between me and the restroom.
As I walked by, I glanced over my shoulder.
I would have sworn our eyes met.
Maybe it was because I wanted them to.
Either way, he was the most handsome man I had ever seen.
His beard?
Perfection defined.
After relieving myself of the afternoon’s alcohol, I stood at the sink and stared blankly into the mirror. Mentally preparing to talk to the magnificent stranger, I was convinced I had what it took – short of a little courage – to impress him.
I turned toward the door, inhaled a breath of bravery, and pulled it open.
Oh shit!
Standing on the other side of the door stood the bearded wonder. Wearing a shitty little smirk, it appeared he knew I was coming. Although I had many things planned to say, and many more I wanted to say, I executed none of my plans.