Running Away With You (Running #3)

by Suzanne Sweeney

  Evan slides his hands beneath my dress and rips the panties from my body in one quick motion. The abrupt sound, the tearing of cloth at my flesh, and the knowledge that this night will continue with me sans underwear only heightens my excitement.

  He places his hands back on my hips as I place mine on his shoulders, where his beautiful flesh is hidden beneath the cotton cloth of his perfectly pressed dress suit.

  I take one hand and grasp him firmly, sliding him across my cleft, spreading my wetness across his head. I position him at my entrance and slowly lower myself, releasing him and sinking further and further until there is no more to take.

  His fingers dig into my flesh as I move slowly from side to side, back and forth, coaxing the last small fraction of him inside me, stretching me to my limits. The fullness of him is nearly overwhelming, and I gasp for breath.

  The musky smell of our lovemaking fills the air, deepens my desire, and encourages me. Every cell in my body responds to him. There are times when my physical need for him overpowers my sense. I want to own him, subdue him, and possess him.

  “My God, Juliette. You’re so tight. You feel so – fuck!” He pants and moans as I lift myself and slowly lower myself again. “Go slow,” he hisses through his teeth.

  I close my eyes, shutting out everything around us, and surround myself with the pulsations coursing through my body. I concentrate on the sensation of his hardened flesh deep inside me. We’re the only two people in this world at the moment, and he is my Universe. I slowly lift myself until he nearly spills out of me, and then in one smooth motion I take him back in even deeper.

  “I love you,” I whisper, watching his face as I ride him up and down. He clutches my hips, lifting me and bringing me back down again, his strong arms guiding me and supporting me. I love the feel of him, rolling my hips and adjusting the angle so he rubs against me exactly where I need it.

  “You own me,” Evan answers, hissing in my ear. He reaches down and touches me with his thumb, beginning to massage me slowly in perfect circles. My back bows as I clench around him, panting and shamelessly pushing against him. This change in position shifts the pressure and a new wave of electricity fires off relentlessly.

  Evan places both hands back on my hips and holds me while I ride the wave. He forcefully plunges in and out of me as his body temperature begins to rise. I peek at him through the fog of orgasm and I see his shirt beginning to cling to him and sweat beginning to collect above his beautiful, delicious, intoxicating lips.

  I lean forward and nibble on the corner of his lips, and slide my tongue across the seam of his mouth, savoring the saltiness with a low moan of pleasure. Unable to hold back, I wriggle my hips and begin to move at a fever pitch. “Slow down,” he growls through his teeth, “or you’re going to make me – ah, fuck!”

  He holds me still while he waits for the building force to subside. I can see the pained expression on his face as he fights against his primal urges. He is fully dressed from the waist up in his stunning tuxedo, and I’m almost entirely covered by my evening gown. The only flesh that is not hidden is our most intimate, sensitive parts, the places where we are connected. I am filled with a raw, carnal need to have him, and to see him giving himself over to the same animalistic urges is strangely exciting.

  Passion mixed with desire and urgency impels me forward. I press my lips firmly against his and wrap my fingers in his slightly damp hair. He presses his fingers firmly into the flesh of my ass. As I rock my hips, I feel him release one hand, and suddenly he slaps my rear, and the sensation is both painful and pleasurable.

  At that moment, all logic and reasoning is lost, and I am powerless to fight the primal desire wracking my body. A ferocious need to climb higher and higher takes over and I ride him fast and hard. “It’s. So. Fucking. Good,” I whimper.

  Evan adds his thrusts to mine, chasing his own release. He reaches a spot inside me that ignites a spark, and rapturous spasms radiate from my core to my fingertips. As I tighten around him, I call out his name. “Oh, Evan!”

  The sound of his name leaving my lips spurs him on and he pounds into me. I feel him growing even larger and heavier inside me. He closes his eyes and scrunches up his gorgeous face, which is now distorted by his fierce battle to climax.

  “Juliette,” he moans with a savage ferocity as he tenses and spasms. He shakes as he explodes inside me. As the last of his tremors fade, his face begins to soften and relax, returning his features to a more peaceful state.

  I grasp hold of him tightly and nuzzle against him, desperate to deepen the connection. He wraps his arms around me and presses me tightly to his chest. I pull back and look into his exquisitely deep blue eyes. His hands travel up to my neck and he brings my face down to his as he kisses me. As our tongues softly dance together, I can feel my body begin to ease.

  Evan releases me and tenderly moves the stray hairs that have stuck to my face behind my ear. The gesture is simple yet intimate, and I can’t help but smile. He rolls his thumb across my lips and looks at me almost reverently. “I love you so fucking much,” he tells me.

  “I love you too. I wish we could just stay here all night,” I tell him.

  “Just say the word, Juliette, and I’m all yours.”

  I consider the idea for a moment, but think better of it. I hesitantly shake my head and delicately lift up and off him. “There’s always the ride home,” I remind him.

  “You’re right. And just knowing you’re going to be inches from me without your underwear is going to have me thinking about it all night.” An impish grin settles on his face.

  He reaches across the bar and grabs a few napkins, which he uses to tenderly clean me up before allowing me to put myself back together. After tossing the trash into the waste can, he redresses himself and adjusts his tie.

  There’s a full bar within arm’s reach. I crouch over and discover a bottle of fine brandy. “Straight up or on the rocks?” I ask, knowing he’s a sucker for a good vintage cognac.

  “I’ll take it straight,” he answers. I hand him his drink and he swirls it, raising the glass to appreciate the fine aroma. He takes an experimental sip and sits back, completely sated.

  I pour myself a glass of tequila and take a seat beside Evan. I place the glass in the armrest cup holder and grab my purse so I can touch up my hair and makeup.

  Evan looks at me and asks in a deeply serious tone, “Have I told you how beautiful you look tonight? I love that you wore your hair up for me so I can have access to your neck all night, anytime I want.” He places a hand on my knee, and once again I’m reduced to a bundle of nerves. The things this man can do to me with a few words and a gentle touch.

  The limo eventually begins to slow and Evan leans in to me. “You ready?”

  The first words to pop into my mind are “Hell no!”, but instead I find the more appropriate answer. “As ready as I’ll ever be.” I’m both nervous and excited, which has my stomach churning with anticipation. I try to smile confidently, but Evan can see right through me.

  “You’re a terrible liar, you know.”

  I giggle. “But I have other qualities that make up for that small defect.”

  I nervously peer out the window, inspecting the crowd for press, fans, and who knows what else. By the time it’s our turn to exit, my heart rate is racing. I look at Evan, who is calmly straightening his tie like he doesn’t have a care in the world.

  An attendant opens our door, and Evan scoots out first, holding out a comforting hand. I slip my fingers into his, and I immediately see him mentally flipping a switch, turning on the charm and confidence of his public persona. The moment that car door opens, I can see the transition. He stands proudly and confidently, moves gracefully, and oozes charm and über-sexiness. He flashes his trademark million-dollar smile, but there’s something different. The sparkle doesn’t quite reach his eyes, and I’m happy that there’s a part of him that’s reserved only for me.

  The moment our toes hit the red carpet, all
I can hear are the screams of fans and photographers alike, all trying to get a better look at the mega-celebrity on my arm. Cameras flash like a lightning storm. The air is filled with electricity, and it’s contagious.

  I hear multitudes of screams. “Hey, Evan – look over here!” and “Big Mac – I love you!” Evan pretends not to hear them and just pushes through. Suddenly I hear, “Juliette, how about a picture?!” and I’m floored. It’s not just one voice, it’s many. They’re screaming for me too. Exactly when and how did this happen?

  We walk the length of the red carpet, stopping only briefly every five or ten feet for a quick photo. Evan keeps his hand wrapped protectively around my waist the entire time. He’s a pro at this. He seems to know instinctively what needs to be done. He points me in the right direction and he somehow knows when to stop and when to keep walking. It’s truly awe-inspiring to watch. I push through the nerves and put on my very best smile, just hoping that I don’t stick out like a sore thumb among all these beautiful people.

  After just a few more stops along the sidewalk, we walk off the red carpet and into a madhouse. There are attendants and officials waiting for the arriving celebrities to guide them through the maze. “Press photos to the right,” Evan is instructed by a helpful young woman dressed in a black pantsuit and sporting a headphone and mic pack. Evan is marshaled toward a wall flanked by huge backdrops covered with the bright blue logos of Unicef and Baccarat. Even the carpet is a stunning azure blue.

  With his hand clasped tightly around mine, he drags me with him toward the gauntlet of photographers. “Oh, Mr. McGuire, your date can wait right here with me,” the helpful attendant offers.

  Evan flashes his most hypnotic smile at the poor, unsuspecting attendant. Evan is in take-charge mode and she’s about to see it first hand. Evan releases my hand and wraps his arm tightly around my waist. “This is not my date,” he calmly corrects her. “This is my fiancée, and she’s staying right where she is.” She’s about to protest, but he dismisses her and leads me away.

  Without any further discussion, Evan ushers me toward the mayhem. The moment we step in front of the banner, flashes start going off again like wildfire. Together, we smile and pose for pictures. Photographers are once again yelling our names and I don’t know which way to look. I’m overwhelmed by the intensity of it all. I don’t know how he does this over and over again.

  Evan senses my uncertainty and whispers in my ear, “Just smile, Juliette. Ignore them. Pretend you can’t hear what they’re saying. They’ll get their shots.”

  His words immediately put me at ease. I begin to relax a little, knowing this is my first official duty as a member of the NFL family. Soon Evan and I will marry, and this will become a regular part of my life. I can do this for him. I can do this for us.

  I look up into his eyes and that sparkle is there again. His sapphire-blue eyes shine at me, accented by the most delicious set of dimples and perfectly white teeth. When he reaches out for my hand and brings my ring finger to his lips, I can’t help but smile in return. In front of the entire audience of observers, he proudly tells me, “I love you,” as flashes ignite wildly.

  When we enter the reception hall, it’s unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. The room is huge, with cavernous ceilings illuminated by blue lights reflecting thousands of iridescent snowflakes of all shapes and sizes. I overhear an interview the designer, Vern Yip, is giving nearby, and I learn that there are exactly eighteen thousand snowflakes hanging from the ceiling, which represent the eighteen thousand children dying every day from preventable causes.

  Hundreds upon hundreds of people are milling around, laughing, smiling, and posing for pictures. For a generous donation, anyone can buy a plate and the opportunity to spend an evening with famous actors, musicians, athletes, comedians, celebrity chefs, and other notable figures. My head is spinning as I struggle to take in all the glitz and glamour.

  I have to remind my lungs to breathe when I realize I’m standing right next to Adrien Brody. It’s when I watch Kevin Jonas and his wife Danielle holding hands across the room that I realize this evening may actually live up to the excitement and hype that up until this point had only been in my head.

  Evan leads me toward the back wall, which is lined with a forty-foot long champagne bar. A never-ending line of champagne glasses covers the bar and handsome bartenders are waiting to pour fresh glasses. Evan hands me a glass and asks, “So, Juliette, spot anyone you’d like to rub elbows with? There’s more celebrities here than in rehab.”

  “How about a second-rate talk show host?” Evan and I turn our heads and we’re face to face with Joey Griffin and his wife Maggie. Maggie looks beautiful in a simple yet elegant gray silk gown with a crisscross back. The handsome and charismatic talk show host is handsomely dressed in a traditional tuxedo and bowtie.

  “Juliette, you look beautiful tonight,” Joey offers with a big hug and kiss.

  “Oh my God, I love those shoes. Where did you find them?” Maggie and I catch up a little and make plans to go shopping soon.

  We’ve barely said our hellos when flashes start to go off in our general direction. How do they do it? Evan, Joey, and Maggie are chatting about something, I’m not sure what, while all this madness is going on around them. And yet they don’t seem the least bit unnerved by any of it.

  Pop star Tess Tyler comes over to say hello and I realize immediately that everyone in our little group knows her well. I’m sure Joey’s interviewed her before, and I’d guess that Evan’s seen her socially.

  “Tess, this is my fiancée, Juliette Fletcher.” Evan pulls me close. “Juliette, this is Tess Tyler.”

  I shake her hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Tess.” Tess has had several number-one hits like “Walk With Me”, “Lip Service”, and “If Only I Knew”. I don’t think there’s anyone on the planet who doesn’t know who Tess Taylor is.

  “Evan, do you think I could speak with you privately?” she asks. Joey and Maggie excuse themselves and offer to meet us back at our table. But I’m not budging.

  The three of us find a quiet spot in the corner of the room, away from prying eyes. “Tess, is everything okay?” Evan asks, his voice laced with concern.

  She looks around to see if anyone is within earshot. She speaks to Evan in a very soft voice, barely loud enough to be heard. “I was visiting Averee at Pathways Rehab in Colorado Springs. She wants to know if you got any of her letters.”

  Now it’s beginning to make sense. Of course she’s friends with Averee. They’re about the same age, both single, and in the music industry. That must be how she knows Evan.

  Evan considers her question for a moment. He runs his fingers nervously through his hair. His normally strong and defiant personality changes right before my eyes. It kills me that just the sound of her name can affect him so deeply. “We got all her letters, but we didn’t read any of them. You can tell her that she can stop sending them, Tess. Seriously.” I take Evan’s hand and give it a reassuring squeeze.

  “She’s doing better, Evan. She really is. She just wants to apologize. She wants you to know she’s sorry.” I can tell by the way Tess is looking at Evan that she truly feels sympathy for him.

  Kelly Ripa and Mark Consuelos spot Evan and are heading directly toward us. “Message received. Tell her to move on.” Evan walks away and greets the power couple, leaving me alone with Tess.

  “Juliette, I know you don’t know me, but please believe me when I tell you that I didn’t mean to upset Evan. It’s the last thing I would want to do after what Averee put him through.”

  I have nothing to say, so I leave with a simple remark. “It was really nice meeting you, Tess.” It must be easy for people to forget that underneath his tough-guy persona, he’s broken. He doesn’t let many people see that side of him.

  Evan is deep in conversation, so I decide to join our friends, already seated. The table is stunning, covered with crisp white linens, crystal glasses, and luminaries that light up photographs of childre
n from around the world.

  I take a seat beside Maggie and covertly slip off my shoes under the table. “Four inches?” she asks.

  “Five,” I tell her, rubbing the balls of my feet, trying desperately to get the circulation to return to my toes, which are beyond numb at this point.

  “I thought heels that high were outlawed by the Geneva Convention,” Maggie teases.

  “They definitely should be,” I giggle, “but these are my first pair of Jimmy Choos. I had to wear them, just this once.”

  Adrien Brody and Mark Ruffalo are two tables away from us, posing for a picture. As quickly as I can, I dig through my clutch and find my cell phone. As discreetly as I can manage, I snap a few pictures.

  “Juliette, if you want to take a picture, why don’t you just go say hello? You can’t even see their faces from here.” Joey gets up and walks toward me, “Come on, I’ll introduce you.”

  I wave him off. “Thanks, Joey, but that’s really not necessary. I got the shots I want.” I pen a quick text message to Auggie and the girls, and attach pictures of some hot celebrity boy-booty.

  Eventually Evan rejoins our small group, but rather than take a seat, he takes Joey away. “We’ll be right back. It’s time to spend a ridiculous amount of money.” Evan bends down and kisses my cheek. “Think you can make it a little longer without me?”

  I twist around in my seat and return his sweet kiss. “I’d get up and join you, but I can’t walk. You might actually have to carry me back to the limo later.”

  Evan bends even lower, placing his lips on my bare shoulder. “Baby, there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you.”

  The rest of the evening is magical. The white-suited servers move effortlessly through the crowd of guests with bottles of champagne, regularly topping off my glass. The A-list cocktail hour is followed by an unbelievable dinner prepared by Marcus Samuelsson. Evan and Joey return just in time to enjoy the first course of truffle lobster salad.