Couture Love

by Fields, MJ

  He finally breaks the silence with a simple statement, followed by a request.

  “I get being safe and taking precautions, and I applaud it. But Autumn, don’t lie to me again.”

  “Okay.”

  Hand in hand, we walk into the hotel, and I watch how people look at him. Honestly, had I seen him before he hit on me, I would have thought he was one of the stars who vacationed in the Hamptons.

  Eric has movie star good looks, is built like a Greek god, and carries himself with more confidence than anyone else my age who I’ve ever encountered. His eyes never leave me or in the direction we are heading, even when we pass by women who are far more beautiful than me. Even when they whisper about him, and they do whisper about this man. Still, he doesn’t so much as glance sideways.

  My ex ate up the attention and shit on me in the process.

  “How can I get you to move south?” he said in a post-orgasmic haze.

  Promise me to continue being exactly who you are right now and I will follow you anywhere, my inner believer in love, the one who never suffered the fall, answered in my head.

  The realist in me responded the way I should have.

  In the moment.

  In the elevator, he turns me toward him as he walks backward to the corner. He places my hands on his hips and takes my face gently in his hands. First, he kisses the top of my head, then my forehead, my cheeks—one then the next—my nose and, as he’s about to kiss my lips, the elevator stops.

  I fight to tip my head down and close my mouth. He smirks and gives me a lazy wink as he bites the tip of his tongue. Only then do I realize my tongue is quivering in my mouth.

  He chuckles as he wraps his arm around me, palms the side of my head, and pulls it to his chest.

  I can’t help giggling.

  “Hold on to that feeling,” an older man’s voice booms. “You’ll need to reflect on moments like this to get you through the hell she’ll cause you, son.”

  “Well, if I talk about her like that in front of her—hell, if I even think it—I deserve whatever hell she chooses to give me.”

  A woman laughs. “Cheaper to keep her, he says. You know what that makes me wanna do?”

  “Bitch, complain, spend more money,” the man huffs.

  “Outlive your miserable ass,” she snaps.

  Biting my tongue, I look up and see Eric glaring at one of them. I know even before I glance behind me who it is.

  When I do look back, my eyes meet the eyes of a woman who is beautiful but looks like her soul has been taken.

  “Three kids, two mortgages, and I’m still working like a dog to make sure that smile never falls, sweetheart,” he sneers.

  “If you were a golf pro, I’d buy that work nonsense,” she says sternly.

  When the elevator stops, Eric turns me around and guides me out of the elevator. “Some advice?” He doesn’t wait for a response. “Call Rebecca Smith. She’s a relationship therapist in the area, and the two of you need some therapy.”

  I bite back a laugh until the door shuts. “Seek counseling?”

  “I’m not even sure that will help the two of them.” He sighs. “What floor are you on?”

  I look around and only now realize he got us off on three. “Five.” I laugh as I spot the stairway and wiggle out of his grasp. “Wanna race?” I take off running and hear him laughing behind me. I’m sure he could easily beat me, but apparently, Prince Eric is a gentleman.

  When I get to the top, I look down and see him holding his phone up in front of him, smiling.

  I throw my hands up. “Victory is mine.”

  He shoves his phone in his pocket. “Sometimes you have to lose a battle to win a war, babe.” He takes the last set of stairs two at a time. “Besides, I’m carrying your bag and mine.”

  “That you are.” I squeeze his bicep. “Such a gentleman.”

  He walks into me, pinning me against the door with his body pressed against mine, hard against soft, heat against heat, and finally, lips against lips.

  He ends the kiss by sinking his teeth into my lower lip and pulling it out. Right before it seems it could become painful, he releases it and warns me, “I left the gentleman on floor two. You wanna go back and find him or are you ready for some filthy fucking?”

  “Wreck me.”

  He closes his eyes and inhales sharply. When he opens them, my spine tingles as the look in them is so intense, so deep that I feel as if he’s searching for my soul … to steal it.

  The door opens behind me, and I nearly fall back, but he presses his hand firmly against the small of my back, steadying me.

  “First thing you need to understand is I know this isn’t your norm.”

  I swallow hard as he steps into me and gently forces me to do the same.

  “The second is, it’s not mine either. I’ve never needed to fuck someone the way I need to fuck you. And when I say need, Autumn, I mean need.”

  I nod and feel my eyes widen.

  “Third, don’t say no to anything because you’re afraid. I would never hurt your body, but I will push your limits, and I know you want them pushed.”

  Shame, I almost feel ashamed that I am so willing and wanton for whatever he is going to give me.

  “Fourth, what we do as adults stays between us, you and me. I would never betray your trust in me, nor do I think you’re easy, or I wouldn’t be here.”

  “Fifth, what fucking room are we heading to?”

  “Five eleven.” My voice is so husky that I barely recognize it.

  “Good, we’re here.”

  He hands me my bag, and I reach inside, looking for the key card. My stupid hands are trembling so badly that I drop it and the entire contents spill all over the ground.

  “Dammit,” I grumble as I start to bend down.

  He grabs the key card and hands it to me. “I’ll get the rest. Go in. Get naked.”

  Get naked? Why is that so … fucking hot!

  I hurry to the bathroom and pee, wash under my arms, between my legs, brush my teeth, look in the mirror, and decide immediately that’s a bad idea. I look like hell.

  I hear him knock on the door. “You okay in there?”

  “Yeah.”

  I glance at myself one last time and decide, fuck it.

  Throwing off the rest of my clothes, I kick them into the corner, take a deep breath, and close my eyes, picturing the way he looks at me for courage.

  When I walk out, he bites his lower lip as he assesses me from top to bottom and back up.

  “Everything okay?” I ask, trying to exude way more confidence than I’m feeling.

  “Just need to use the bathroom.” He steps aside, giving me room to get by him. “Why don’t you go make yourself comfortable on the bed, face down.”

  Oddly specific, but I don’t argue.

  The room is dimly lit by the several candles scattered around it. The bed is stripped, and all that remains on it is a sheet, a pillow, and a small towel.

  On the nightstand are two bottles of water, a bottle of Motrin, and a bottle of—I pick it up to read the label—coconut massage oil.

  “Did I forget anything?”

  I turn back and see Eric in the doorway. He’s shirtless and in black cotton briefs.

  I shake my head.

  With a menacing smirk, he asks, “Are you ready for a relaxing massage?”

  “I’m supposed to relax when your hands are on me?”

  “Something like that,” he says as he walks over and grabs the towel off the bed. “Lie horizontal so I can work you from both ends. Autumn.” His use of my name snaps me out of my stupor. “Trust, babe?”

  I nod. “Trust.”

  “Then get your fine self on the bed and don’t make me say it again.” He snaps the towel in my direction and winks. “Go.”

  Lying on the bed, I feel the towel drape over my ass.

  “Now try to relax.”

  I wiggle around until I’m comfortable and do so while watching him walk over to his
bag. As he bends down, I watch his ass muscles and the back of his thighs flex. He grabs something out of it then walks over and slides his fingertips up my spine, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

  “This is to make sure you can focus on pleasure.”

  I look up to see him holding out a sleep mask for me to see before he gently covers my eyes with it.

  “You okay?”

  “I am.”

  “Not afraid of the dark?”

  “Nope, I’m all good.”

  Perfect.

  Seconds later, I hear the sound of rain, feel a cool breeze, and then feel warm liquid being dripped down my spine. Next, I feel the heat of his body near mine, and then I hear the sound of his hands rubbing together.

  “Touch,” he whispers as he puts his hands on my shoulders and gently but firmly rubs down to my lower back. He works my back, my arms, my shoulders, relaxing me more than I imagine Helga would have.

  I hear him move to the other side of the bed and whisper, “Touch,” again before he grips my ankles and rubs his freshly oiled hands up my thighs, stopping where the towel covers. He works them both together, kneading, rubbing, delighting muscles I never realized I had until his hands caressed them.

  He takes my ankle and lifts it. I feel what I assume are his lips against the inside of my ankle as he pushes them toward my butt, stretching me in a position I am not accustomed to. Then he takes the other and does the same before stretching me. When he releases them, I know they’re resting over his shoulders.

  “Touch,” he whispers as he skates his hands down my ankles to the back of my thighs and up to my ass cheeks. He rubs them at the same time, squeezing, kneading, palming, and repeat. Then he slides his hands between my thighs and caresses the innermost part of them while putting slight pressure on my outer most private parts.

  “How’s that feel, gorgeous?”

  “It feels delightful and naughty but not filthy.”

  “Patience, babe. I know how badly you want me inside you. Your pussy is weeping.”

  I stiffen at the thought of him seeing every part of me, up close and personal, in the light.

  “Never seen such a beautiful pussy.” He slides his hands back down to my ankles then steps back, taking one then the other and setting them on the bed. “Fucking perfect.”

  And all insecurity is gone.

  His next instruction is delivered in a rougher, raw, carnal tone. “Roll over on your back now.”

  On my back, I feel oil dripping onto my tits then hear, “Touch.”

  He grips my shoulders and rubs out any tension that is still present. he runs one hand down my sternum, then the next, then in synch. Next, he runs them under my breastbone and around the swell of my breasts, again and again.

  I feel my nipples peak painfully and arch my back, hoping he gives me some relief from the sweet ache he’s causing.

  When he cups my breasts, I feel his thumb lightly skim them, and then he releases them and runs them down my belly.

  “Eric,” I whisper.

  “Shh …” he hushes me.

  I arch my head back when I feel heat and hardness against my cheek and know the only thing between us is black fabric. I reach up and push my hand down the waistband, pulling him free.

  “No hands,” he whispers as he runs his down between my legs, still avoiding my pussy.

  I lower my hands and move my head to the side to lick his shaft.

  He groans then cups my breast while spreading my lips. I push against his touch.

  I feel his soft hair and hot breath before his hungry mouth takes my nipple, sucking it. Arching my back, I press against his mouth while thrusting into his hand, wanting his fingers inside, not toying with me outside. Then I lick to the tip of his cock and suck on it like a kitten does milk. He thrusts, giving me more that I take eagerly.

  Still sucking my tit, he splits me in two with one finger and hisses when I suck him in farther.

  “On your stomach,” he demands as he steps away.

  I turn over then feel his arm under my waist, lifting me. I assist then feel a pillow beneath my hips.

  “Touch,” he whispers when he pulls me down to the edge of the bed and grips my ankles, laying them on his shoulders. Then he skates his hands down my body until he gets to my core. And then … then I feel him push a finger inside me, his tongue joining it as he licks me over and over again. Each lick makes a bigger pass until I feel his tongue rimming my ass. Then he runs his finger from my pussy to my asshole. “Touch,” he hisses.

  I ready myself for something I’ve always avoided.

  “Relax and trust me, babe. Breath in.”

  As I do, I feel oil dripping between my cheeks, and then I feel his fingers gently nudge.

  “Eric,” I gasp as it enters me.

  “You’re doing fine, babe. You ready to come?”

  “Yes.” I inhale and feel his cock against my entrance.

  “Breathe out, babe.” His voice shakes.

  As I breathe out, he enters me, cock in pussy, finger in ass. Then he stills.

  “How do you feel?”

  “Filthy,” I admit.

  “Perfect,” he says, slamming into my pussy fully.

  I raise my upturned ass, and he begins fucking me, his cock and finger in sync.

  Ten

  Eric

  Standing under the shower, washing her body as she washes mine, is a surreal moment. One I’m trying not to overthink, but it feels damn good. Not just the touching—that always feels good—but this connection, the draw, this … need.

  As if she senses my mind racing, she pushes up on her tiptoes and runs her nails up the back of my neck lightly until she is caressing my scalp while kissing me.

  I’ve showered with women before, but never like this. It was a need to rid my body and theirs of sweat and body fluids. There was no washing each other, no kissing, and definitely not two people drowning in each other’s eyes. And yes, I feel like I’m drowning.

  The weekend is coming to an end. She has a thing with Angela tomorrow, and I have a thing with Father. Then it’s back to reality, and the reality is that she’s Autumn of Queens and I’m back to North Carolina.

  She practically begged me to fuck her ass, and I used more restraint than I ever have with a woman to tell her not yet. I set her up to wanting more with intent and clear purpose.

  So I can see her tomorrow.

  “I think it’s clean.” She nips at my nipple as she looks up at me.

  “I like it in my hands.”

  Releasing her teeth from my flesh, she smiles. “Oh, it’s been on your hands, on your tongue—”

  “And tomorrow, on the end of my cock.”

  “Filthy.” She shakes her head.

  “Erotic,” I correct.

  She buries her head in my chest. “Perfect.”

  I tug her long, wet hair back and let the water rinse the conditioner out of it as I look at her face that is now completely makeup free. “You look even better in the raw.”

  She leans forward and runs her hand up her face, pushing the water away. “You mentioned that earlier.”

  “No, I mean no product; nothing hiding your natural beauty.”

  “Makeup enhances—”

  “What I’m saying is you’re beyond beautiful without any of that.”

  She shakes her head, and I give her hair a tug.

  “It’s the truth.”

  “Thanks.”

  Turning her around, her back to my chest, water running over our soapy bodies, my cock is painfully hard, and I have no plans to entertain its needs.

  I want to sleep next to her, smell her, touch her, just be with … her.

  * * *

  Lying in bed, her wet hair is fanned across my chest, arm and leg draped over my body, and I hold her tightly against me.

  I’m not sure I’ll be able to sleep, because all I keep thinking about is how I judge every person around these parts because they don’t do shit yet still live lavishly and, right no
w, I know if my finances were in order, I’d be moving closer to her, to Queens and building on what my mother built from wherever it was so that I could have daily access to this woman as long as I needed it. Maybe just a hot as hell fuck buddy or maybe more. I’m definitely feeling more at the moment.

  Yet, as intimate as we’ve been, we haven’t delved into personal information, and that’s more her call than mine.

  With her phone on the nightstand and her asleep, I’m ready to cross a line that I wouldn’t want someone to cross with me. But when it lights up, I don’t hesitate. Could be Angela checking in on her. Seems to be something they do and a damn good excuse to see who the fuck Stephen13 is.

  I kiss her finger then touch the home button on her phone. As luck would have it, it opens up her digital world. But I’m not interested in crossing all the damn lines. I just want to check out Stephen13.

  Stephen13:

  - Nice pussy shot. You’ve lost the weight, huh? When did you start waxing?

  - We were together for seventeen years and I never got one of those. What’s up with that, Awes?

  - So you snap a pic like that and then don’t even reply?

  - I see you’re in the Hamptons. I’m close. We should catch up.

  - Might want to reply before I change my mind.

  Then there’s a dick pic. And, fuck yes, I look at it.

  Mine’s bigger soft.

  The boy in me wants to show him. The man in me says let it lie … until another snap pops up.

  Stephen13:

  - So, what do you say, Awes?

  I hold down the button and video myself.

  “She says it looks like a dick, only smaller. She says she’s fucking busy and to leave her alone … tiny.”

  I push my leg out from under the blanket, hit the button that flips the camera and, yeah, I show him what a real dick looks like.

  “Eric?” she mumbles and begins to lift her head.

  I hold it against my chest. “Sleep, gorgeous.”

  “Okay,” she whispers.

  I release the video button then send the video snap and a message.