by R. R. Banks
Vincent
I rush forward across the room and grab Olivia's face with both hands, making sure she can’t run away this time. I have waited far too long to kiss her again and I will be damned if I miss this chance. Olivia offers no resistance, and she melts into my embrace. I move one hand behind her head and fill it with her hair. My kiss pushes further into her and her mouth opens to receive my tongue. Olivia responds by flicking her own tongue against mine and then tangling with it.
I can hear her breath hitch and feel her chest rise against mine in rapid bursts, which pushes her supple breasts against me, only driving my desire higher. I move my left hand down to her breast and massage it firmly as a soft whimper escapes her lips. Her right leg wraps around mine and we instinctively grind against each other, the bulge of my cock nearly bursting through the seams of my pants to reach out for the warmth of her waiting pussy.
Olivia shows no sign of apprehension or hesitation as she reaches for the drawstring. It loosens easily, and I feel her pulling at the waistband, eager to get my pants off and out of the way. Her excitement sends my arousal skyward, and I reach down to lift her off the ground. Her legs wrap around my waist and I push her into the wall, holding her up with my body weight and one hand under her perfect ass. This is so different from the last time. I tried to be gentle and tender with her then, so aware of the fact that it was her first time that I didn't want to do anything to frighten or hurt her. Now I feel like I can't control myself. All the pent-up desire and passion I've harbored for her the last two years has built to a boiling point inside of me. I've missed her so much it physically hurt, and I need the release of being with her again. I want to show her everything my words have failed to convey.
Olivia wriggles against the wall, forcing her shirt off while I unlatch her bra in the front with my teeth, pulling it down with my hand, growling as her breasts spill out into the cool air of the room. I take one into my mouth and begin to suck on her pink nipple using one hand to massage the other. As I lick and tease her, my pants slide the rest of the way off and my erection springs out, pushing up against her core above it.
I can feel her wetness through her stretch pants, and the intoxicating smell of her perfume mixes with her own delicious scent. I can't wait to be inside her one more minute, and I pull her off the wall and carry her over to the bed. I drop her onto the mattress and she immediately reaches for my cock, grasping it tightly and pulling me closer. Looking at me with eyes that are both uncertain and filled with passionate need, she slips it into her mouth and I can feel her taking as much of me as she can. Her lips wrap around me and I feel the world spinning in ecstasy while she sucks me, firmly pulling on my erection as she does.
Whether it was need, arrogance, hope, or a combination of the three, I had tucked a box of condoms into my bag before leaving for the airport. I reach over to the nightstand now and pull one out from the drawer where I left them, ripping open the package with the last bit of my concentration that I can gather. I push her back firmly, but gently, and she lies back on the bed, staring up at me as I roll the condom down over my cock. Once it is in place, I waste no time, grabbing her pants and panties in one firm grasp and pulling them off. A small giggle erupts from Olivia's mouth, and the playfulness of the sound of her makes me grin.
I climb onto the bed and Olivia wraps her legs around me, positioning herself for me and I take the invitation to plunge in without any hesitation or delay. Olivia cries out as I push into her, reveling in her tightness and warmth. I can feel myself throbbing and know I am dangerously close already. Olivia seems to be in the same place as she writhes beneath me, her mouth open but no sound escaping her lips. I rock back and then forward again, thrusting deeply into her, knowing it might hurt her, but knowing there is pleasure there too. As if in confirmation, her legs begin to tremble, and I know she is riding the wave of an orgasm.
I push down into her so that our bodies meld into one, her breasts pushing up into my chest, and her mouth clasping onto my shoulder. I begin to rock more rhythmically now, still thrusting with force, but focusing on the pleasure of her core wrapped around me.
"Harder, Vincent. Faster," she half whispers into my ear, her voice faltering as she focuses on what we had both missed for so long.
Her words sink into me as a command and I oblige happily, picking up my pace and thrusting into her over and over. I reach in to kiss her again and our lips crash against each other as I feel her begin to tremble again below me. This time, I know that I am going to ride the wave with her and lean into it. I feel my cock bulging, ready to burst, and I let out a roar that is met by screams of pleasure from Olivia. For a moment I push as far into her as I can, feeling my body pulse erratically, all my muscles tensing as my cock throbs inside of her.
Slowly I begin to come down and my body melts down into hers. She wraps her arms around my neck and kisses me on my neck over and over, as if she wants to make up for every lost moment of the last two years. I reach up with one hand and cup one breast and rest my head on the other. I close my eyes and take in the scent of her as my entire body relaxes. For the first time since I last held her in my arms, I feel at peace, and I exhale slowly, knowing that I have a goofy smile plastered my face.
I hold Olivia's hand as we walk through the lobby toward the manager's office. A few people glance our way, and I recognize some of them as business contacts I've made over the years. They smile at me, some giving polite nods of acknowledgment. Some of them, though, look at Olivia first, and their smiles are tighter, almost reluctantly. It's likely many of them think she's my version of the weekend entertainment so many of them start searching for as soon as they arrive at the convention center. I wonder how many of them recognize her as Beau Alcott's daughter.
Olivia is visibly uncomfortable, but I just hold her hand tighter than before. I want her to feel safe, and let go of the shame she’s carried this far. I hate the thought that she ever accepted being hidden away. She never should have felt that way about herself. If I had only known about the baby and her pregnancy, I never would have let her be ashamed or ostracize herself. As I think over that, however, I realize it's my fault I didn't know about her pregnancy in the first place. I made it impossible for her to find me. I never would have thought I could meet a woman like Olivia, or that I would lose her so easily. I'm determined to never let that happen again.
The manager smiles at us as we stepped through the door. He stands and opens his arms out in a gesture that makes him look as though the wedding got to him, and he's now training to be Pope.
"My favorite newlyweds! It's so good to see the two of you again."
He says it like our wedding was years ago and not a side effect of drunken debauchery just the night before.
"We came by to thank you again for marrying us," I say. "I know it was spur of the moment, and you weren't really prepared for something like that to happen."
"No," he says, swiping the air in front of his face with his hand. "I was glad to do it. There are weddings here every weekend, and I never get to be a part of the ceremony. It was fun."
"We're really glad you could be a part of it."
"I also wanted to ask if I left a picture here," Olivia says. "That wallet-sized one a little boy we held after the ceremony?"
"The one of your son," he says. "Little Aaron."
Apparently, she's fantastic at keeping secrets, but once Olivia starts talking about our son, nothing stops her.
"Yes," Olivia says with a slightly embarrassed nod. "That one. I know I had it here, but it's missing from my wallet. Have you seen it?"
"Sure," he says. "You must have left it here in all the excitement. I found it after sending the picture and your wedding license up to you. I meant to bring it up to you as well, but somebody picked it up."
I feel the smile drop from my face.
"Somebody picked it up?" I ask. "What do you mean? Who would take a picture of our son?"
He shrugs.
"I don't know," he says.
"She came in here this morning and mentioned the two of you, and asked if you'd left anything in here last night. She didn't tell me who she was, but I figured you sent her. I had already sent everything else up to you, so I just let her take the picture. I'm sorry, if I had known…"
I shake my head.
"Don't worry about it," I say. "We're going to be here for a couple more days. If you happen to see us and we are anywhere near the woman who took the picture, can you kind of subtly let us know? You would recognize her, right?"
"Oh, absolutely," he says. "She had a pretty demanding presence. Tall, blonde hair. I'd know who she was instantly."
"Great. You point her out to us if you see her."
"I will," he says. "You have a fantastic day, Vincent."
I realize I don't remember his name. I try to figure out a smooth way to get him to say it, but before I can, Olivia steps up and offers her hand to him.
"You have a wonderful day, yourself, Mr. Holden."
She takes my hand again as we walk out of the office. When we are far enough away that I'm confident he won't hear, I glance down at her.
"How did you possibly remember his name is Mr. Holden?"
"I didn't remember," she says. "I looked at his name plaque on his desk."
I smile and lean down to kiss her impulsively. It feels incredible to be able to do that, and I stop in the middle of the hallway. I wrap my arms around her waist and draw her close for another, deep kiss.
"Do you think Laurel will forgive us if we skip dinner?"
She gives me a quick kiss and shakes her head.
"I think you're on thin enough ice with her as it is," I say. "Missing dinner might just push her over the edge of no return."
"Fine," I say. "But we're ordering dessert first. That way it's ready. I'm not wasting any time."
She smiles at me and I know the same memory of our moonlight picnic is playing across her mind right now.
"Always dessert first," she says. Her smile fades slightly. "You know that sounds like Charlene," she mumbles.
She's talking about the description of the woman who took the picture of Aaron. I had the same thought earlier.
"I know. Why would she be here, though? Her father isn't even at this conference."
"She isn't at the conference," Olivia says. "But she might be here for Philip's wedding."
Now that she says that, I remember Charlene mentioned a wedding several weeks ago, but I told her I couldn’t go because of the conference.
"Why would she want Aaron's picture?"
"I don't know." Olivia sounds nervous and I give her waist another reassuring squeeze.
"Don't worry about it. I'm sure she just wants to be able to show it around and get the attention for being the one who broke the big news, that's all."
Olivia nods.
"You're probably right. She does love attention."
Chapter Twenty-Three
Olivia
For the second time in as many days, I find myself sitting in a hotel room bed, completely out of it. The sheets tangled around my waist tell me I had a fitful night's sleep that I don't remember. A headache from the day before lingers behind my eyes and seems to be progressively worsening.
What woke me up? My alarm wasn’t supposed to go off for another hour.
I was sound asleep before something startled me out of it. My phone buzzes at my side and I realize that it was what wrenched me awake. I pick up the phone and look down at the screen.
"What in the living fuck is this?"
The text from Tia is enough to cut through my mental fog. I click the link she attached and the image that fills the screen makes the phone drop to my lap, and my hand comes up to cover my mouth.
How did they know?
I draw in a deep breath to calm myself and pick up the phone, forcing myself to look at the picture again. The headline of the sleazy online tabloid takes away every last hint of sleepiness from my eyes and replaces it with tears.
Disgraced Debutante Secretly Married?
I scream for Vincent, and he comes running out of the bathroom.
"What is it? What's wrong?"
"Tia messaged me," I say. "I haven't heard from her in over two years."
"And that warranted you screaming at me?" he asks. "I thought you were dying."
I shake my head, picking up my phone to shove it at him.
"It's not that she messaged me," I say. "It's what she messaged me. Look at this."
Vincent takes the phone from my hand and I drop my face into my palms. I can't believe this is happening. Embarrassment floods through me and I feel like I'm going to be sick. I look up at Vincent again and see he's scrolling through the article. His face is tense.
"This has everything," he says. "It talks about your family and everything you're going through with your father's business. It reveals my identity and lists all the properties I own, as well as foundations I donate to. It even says we got married this weekend. How could anybody know any of that already? Oh, fuck."
He pauses, and I pull myself up straighter to try to see the phone.
"What? What is it?"
"Sources say Miss Alcott, apparently now Mrs. Preston, has been seen very infrequently in the last two years. It can now be confirmed she is the mother of a young son who bears a striking resemblance to Vincent Preston," he reads.
How could everything have possibly gone so wrong so fast again? I'm humiliated, but even more than that, I'm terrified that Vincent is going to be angry. He's tried so hard for so long to maintain the anonymity that means so much to him. He's gone to great lengths to keep his personal life and his professional life separate, letting them overlap only in the most controlled environments. Now in an instant, all that is gone. He thought being married to me and having Aaron would make him look more normal, more relatable. Instead, it got him splashed all over a tabloid that's probably already showing up on the news and every social media account for every person we know. In the last 48 hours I've gone from someone who had all but been forgotten in high society to the center of a scandal I'm afraid is going to rip apart families and lives.
"Charlene fucking did this," Vincent growls. "You know she did. The picture of Aaron is right fucking here."
"It was her at the resort, too, wasn't it?" I ask. "She was punishing me for being with you even though I knew she wanted you, and she's punishing me now for not staying hidden."
"It had to be her," Vincent says. "There's nobody else who would want to do something like that. She was doing it to punish me just as much as you. When we were on the island, she was punishing me for falling in love with you, and not her. Now, she's punishing me for telling her I don't want anything to do with her." He looks at me with fire burning in his eyes. "I don't know how she got those pictures of you at the resort, or how she got them posted all over the lobby, but I promise you, I will find out. I will find out how she did it, and I will find out who helped her, and when I do, there will be hell to pay."
"I'm so sorry, Vincent," I say.
"What are you sorry about?"
"All of this," I say. "I'm sorry for getting you caught up in this mess. I know this isn't what you wanted."
"Stop that," he replies. "You have nothing to be sorry about. You did nothing wrong. We will get through this together.”
"What do you mean?"
Vincent looks like he's thinking for a few seconds, then a slight smile curves his lips.
"Who cares about this article? Charlene wants us to panic. She wants us to be upset and embarrassed. She might even think she can drive us apart and get us to call this whole thing off. We're not going to give her that satisfaction."
"We're not? Because I feel pretty upset and embarrassed, and I wouldn't blame you if you wanted to leave me, and go into hiding at one of your properties so you don't have to deal with any of the fallout."
"I know you are," he says. "But you don't have to be. She hasn’t revealed anything we weren’t eventually planning on doing
so ourselves. It's not like we can lie about Aaron's birthday and pretend he's a newborn. People are going to know we have a history that goes back farther than this weekend, and I would venture to say that's probably preferable to us meeting and getting married on the same day. I'm not going anywhere, Olivia. We're in this together. We can’t let her win. If we panic and try to cover it up, or run away from it, it's going to look terrible. Like we did do something wrong. If we don't make this into a scandal, nobody else can. All we have to do is stay calm, go about our lives as normal, and look really happy together.”
I’m not convinced. “Don’t you think people will wonder why they’ve never seen us together before this weekend? Or why no one, absolutely no one, knew I was pregnant with Aaron? Not to mention the fact that I’ve been raising him on my own?”
"We don't owe an explanation or justification to anybody. That's exactly why I've always wanted to stay as honest as I possibly could. I don't want other people dictating what I do, say, or think. Our lives are our own. All that matters is us – and our son. When we start going out together and people see us living our lives, it'll just come across that we are very private couple who wanted to keep our relationship to ourselves, and didn't want the world interfering with our family. But now that he's bigger and we’re married, we're ready to be open about it."
"And when they ask why we've lived apart the last two years?"
"I'll tell them the truth," he says. "I'll tell them we found each other when neither of us were looking, and life took us by surprise. We took some time apart while we evaluated what we wanted the future to look like, and during that time I realized that I can't live without you. That I love you far more than any amount of privacy."
I inch across the bed closer to Vincent and kiss him.
"I love you, too." I lean my head against his arm, wrapping my hand tightly around his bicep. "What do we do now?"
