by Xavier Neal
Logically, I know going bare would’ve been the most irresponsible thing either of us could’ve done. We know nothing about one another’s past or sexual history. Hell, we barely know anything about each other, but I can’t help the sadness stirring over not being completely filled with him. He’s already managed to write his name on every other part of me. I want this part too.
Dusty litters the skin closest to him with gentle kisses. Afterwards, our eyes meet and he sighs, “We need to ditch rubbers ASAP, baby. I wanna feel every inch of that pussy….”
A whimper of agreement oozes free.
“You on anything? You know, to prevent havin’ kids?”
I’m unable to stop the question I have no business asking at this point in our relationship, I blurt out, “You don’t want kids?”
“I want you havin’ my kids,” he clarifies, hands now folding at the small of my back. “Jus’ askin’ if you’re on anything that would help prevent that ‘til we’re ready.”
“The shot.”
He grins profusely. “Good. Then that means I can take you bare in the near future.” Dusty doesn’t wait for a retort. “We get home. We get checked. And then nothin’ will be between us when I have you in my bed.”
“Or mine,” I’m barely able to whisper before my lips are being captured.
Are we crazy? Not just for making minor plans, like whose bed we’ll sleep in first, but life size ones, like kids. Everything in my brain is shouting to slow down. Take a breath. Remember that romance is a mixture of chemicals in your mind often projecting something that isn’t real. The issue is every instinct inside of me is screaming louder that this is it. This is the man I am gonna marry. The man whose children I will have. The man who will be by my side in sickness and in health. Aren’t you supposed to embrace that feeling if you’re lucky enough to find it? I spend hours, five…six…sometimes seven days a week searching for other people to possibly make this type of connection. Don’t I owe it to myself to at least give it a chance?
Chapter Four
Dustin
I prayed every night this day wouldn’t come. Figured maybe, just maybe, if I did it hard enough we’d get sucked into some sort of time loop that would have us repeatin’ the last three days together for the rest of our lives.
My head angles itself to stare out the open balcony doors where Carly is wearing nothing but my white t-shirt.
Lord almighty, she looks perfect in my shirt.
Bet she’d look perfect with her hair in my hat too….
We’ve barely left this room since we stepped foot in it. Cody’s been the best brother a guy could ask for stayin’ in Sam’s room each night after the concerts. Sam didn’t seem to mind as long as Cody could make himself scarce for an hour if he needed to get laid. He wouldn’t make the “mistake” of gettin’ attached to any one woman. But that’s where he was dead wrong. Bein’ with Carly isn’t a mistake. Bein’ away from her is. Terrible thoughts about us fallin’ apart, due to the long distance we’ll be sufferin’ in, have been tearin’ me to pieces while I hold her at night. They have me goin’ out of my mind. Mentally makin’ detailed plans for packin’ up my truck and drivin’ to move in with her the moment the plane touches the ground. Or vice versa, though I’m not sure all her stuff would fit in my old girl. We’d probably need a few U-hauls. Maybe an 18-wheeler. My point is, the mistake ain’t us bein’ together. The mistake is us bein’ apart.
Carly tilts her head towards the bright sun letting the rays highlight the soft angles of her face.
I’ve seen her beautiful complexion with and without make up. It’s the latter that truly makes my heart melt. She’s just naturally amazin’ to look at it. Everything about her is memorizin’. Her bright brown eyes. The way they light up at the sight of me….The way they light up as I sink inside her….The way they roll back while she comes. Her lips are in a category all their own. Full enough to cushion the suckin’ of my cock without lookin’ like they got stuck in a drain. Just the idea of watchin’ her mouth struggle to take me in has my dick tentin’ the sheet. And her smile? Fuck. Me. That’s the best damn part of her. She smiles and suddenly I understand every country love song I’ve heard my entire life. How other men could ever be so foolish to let her go is a mystery I don’t need solved. What they need is a boot to the ass and a thank you card ‘cause their stupid mistakes are what gave me the piece of my life I didn’t know was missin’.
Out of the corner of my vision I catch the clock changing time. I steal a glimpse of the dreaded numbers knowing it doesn’t matter how long I procrastinate lying here. This is it. These are the final moments for some unknown amount of time.
Among learnin’ the basics of one another’s past exploits, we made plans on how to keep the dreadful distance as short as possible. We discussed video chattin’, which led me to showin’ her pictures of my house and work schedules that led to her lookin’ into the cost of flights. Whenever the sadness became too much we either buried it in moans or bailed on it to enjoy music. Her time with her friends has been sprinkled in between needin’ changes of clothes and dancin’ at both the poolside concerts as well as the main performances at night on the beach. They’ve managed to survive without her, and Cordie even got to meet Cooper accordin’ to a text Carly got around one this mornin’. For everyone we came with this was an unforgettable vacation. For us? This was jus’ where our love started.
I grab one of the last condoms out of the box, wrap the sheet around my waist, and make my way over to Carly.
Immediately, my arms wrap around the place they’ve come to call home.
She leans back into my hold and hums, “Morning, Dusty.”
“Mornin’, baby.” My scruff covered chin nuzzles her collarbone. “You doin’ okay?”
The delay in her answer says it all.
I push away the urge to screw in exchange for one that’ll provide her with comfort. “This isn’t the end of us, Carly.”
“I don’t want it to be….”
“Good because it isn’t. We’re not over. Not by a long shot.”
My proclamation turns her face towards me. “Swear it.”
“With every bone in my body.”
She tips her lips to mine and the instinct to claim her one last time returns. My condom-less hand cruises underneath her clothing straight for her clit. Carly gasps against me, but my mouth doesn’t allow hers to escape. Our tongues tie themselves tightly together, creating knots more secure than our words could ever possibly be. Her pussy drenches the digit drawing circles around her swollen clit. She helplessly cries out, and the sound settles stubbornly on my shoulder. My chest. My straining shaft. I disregard my earlier plan to bend her over the outdoor table for one to take her where she stands. Abruptly, I sever our kiss to execute the annoying task of covering my cock. Carly decides to make what should be an easy chore difficult by distracting me with teasing nips of my bottom lip. Each time she attempts to steal a taste results in my tongue punishing hers, ultimately prolonging the end goal of being inside. Once I’m finally protected, I nudge her stance wide, pin her forward and profusely pound, completely callous to the possibility of bruises occurring from the way her body bumps into the railing.
“Dusty,” she repeatedly hollers out on an overexerted breath.
The cool wind carries it away to the nearest set of ears.
Unbothered by the prospect of being caught by strangers we’ll never see again, I shut my eyes and bounce her beautiful ass back into each blow. Her pussy clamps down on my cock, wailing for mercy that won’t be given.
No.
I want Carly to feel this every time she sits. Every time she parts her thighs. Every time she takes a deep breath. I want her pretty little pussy to ache in my absence the same way my cock is gonna cry in hers.
Her head dips backwards as she announces, “Coming!”
I relinquish the hold on her back for one on her dark hair. She moans loudly at the initial yank but begins to pant when the tugs fall in tand
em with the thrusting of my hips. Eventually my other hand abandons her side to gather and grip the edge of the t-shirt. I hit the hilt. Hit it again and again. Remind her pussy it’s got my name written on it. Remind those constant orgasms they bow down to me. My pounding increases in voraciousness to the point I feel fucking possessed. Our bodies continue to recklessly crash until we’re coming together on an earth shattering groan. Trembles tear truculently through us, teetering our stability. Committed to carving this moment to memory, I wind both my arms around her lower midsection, drop my cheek to her shoulder blade, and enjoy the aftershocks.
Our breathing has barely become steady when the sound of my phone begins to blare.
I grunt at the obnoxious reminder.
Carly quietly states, “That’s my cue….”
She allows me one more tight squeeze before peeling herself out of my clutches. I hastily dispose of the used condom in the bathroom and rush back to where I can keep her in my view. Watching her get dressed in stark silence feels like additional punishment. I repeatedly attempt to say something to make it less painful, but it seems to be an impossible task.
The sight of her loose black dress draped on is the final nail in the coffin of this moment. Carly grabs my boxers from the floor and lets them dangle on the tip of her finger. She playfully motions her head towards my crotch. “Might wanna tuck that away.”
I snatch the article of clothing and quickly wiggle it on. “Wanna hand me my shorts, too? Might not be the best idea for me to walk you back wearin’ jus’ these.”
Her face struggles not to fall. “You’re not walking me back.”
“Wha-”
“You need to pack, Dusty, and you know that.”
“But-”
“No buts.” She places a hand gently on my chest. “Pack. Text me when you get to the airport and again when you get home safely?”
Somehow I manage to muster up a nod.
Carly’s face forces a smile. “I’ll miss you.”
“I’ll miss you, too.” The words pull a tear from her dark gaze and my thumb rushes to catch it. I swallow the lump forming in my throat. “Please don’t cry, baby. I don’t think I can take it.”
A hard sniffle echoes around the room.
Our mouths drift together and softly touch one last time. We only exchange two sweet pushes before prying ourselves apart, well aware of the danger we face from letting our kiss linger too long.
Carly gives my chest another loving pat and moves slowly towards the door. I intensely watch each step. Pray that time passes like a bullet instead of dragging like tires stuck in the mud. She offers me a tiny finger wave and disappears out the door, taking my heart with her. The sound of it shutting stumbles me back onto my bed and the ability to breathe becomes difficult. My body convulses like I’m choking. Like my chest is concaving and the only way to stop it is to have that woman back in my arms.
The sound of the door opening darts my attention to what I hope is placidity.
Cody’s smiling face provides the opposite. “Mornin’.”
My voice shakes as I reply, “Mornin’.”
Fear swiftly sets into his expression. “Everything alrigh’?”
“It hurts, Cody. It really fuckin’ hurts.”
“What?”
I pound my hand on my heart.
He folds his arms across his chest. “Y’all had to say goodbye.”
“And I know it’s jus’ temporary but-”
“Temporary?” He immediately interrupts. “What do you mean temporary, Dusty?” The question I assume is rhetorical by his continued chastising. “This can’t keep goin’.”
“It can.”
“It can’t.”
“It will.”
“Look, Dusty, sometimes it doesn’t matter how much you want somethin’ to work out it. Sometimes things jus’…don’t, because they can’t. You understand?”
“No.”
“What you wanna have with Carly will never work.”
Bitterness boils in my speech, “You don’t know that.”
“Oh yeah?” Cody sardonically sneers. “Let’s set aside our parents and their beliefs for a moment and jus’ focus on the obvious. You live in two different states. You live two very different lives. You’re never gonna truly fit into one another’s world, so why drag this out? Why not just treasure what you had for the few days you were here instead of jus’ postponin’ the inevitable? Why make this hurt more than it has to?”
“Why are you pushin’ so hard for us to end this?”
“You’re my little brother, Dusty. I don’t want you to wind up hurt.”
Our stares lock, and I state firmly, “It would hurt a helluva lot more to not even try.”
His shoulders drop.
“I’ve been waitin’ my whole damn life for that woman, Cody. I ain’t givin’ her up. Not without a fight.”
My big brother shakes his head. “Oh, that fight’s comin’, Dusty. It’s comin’ and it’s gonna be the ugliest thing you’ve ever seen.”
It doesn’t matter that his warning is coated in sorrow any more than it matters what he said earlier being true. We are different, but I’ve never understood why that has to be a bad thing. After five nights with my woman the only thing I learned about differences is that they don’t have to divide us. That decision lies in our hands. And I won’t let distance or our extremely disparate lives destroy our love. What we have is once in a lifetime, and I’ll be damned if I ever let it go.
Chapter Five
Carly
“She’s an unstable individual, Harlow.” I lean back in my black desk chair and cross my legs. “There’s no need for a face to face interview. It would be a waste of my time and the company’s.”
Harlow pushes her falling black glasses upward. “There were no red flags on her initial paperwork. She appeared to be…quirky. Insecure but not necessarily an attention seeker. ”
“Well her social media accounts, as well as her financials, demonstrate the opposite. For instance, the woman bought an alpaca six months ago.”
“There are proven benefits to housing such an animal.”
“In the middle of downtown?”
Her tiny mocha nose scrunches. “I see your point.”
“That was just the unwanted sprinkles on the cupcake. Aside from her frivolous spending, she has a long record for online tantrums that point more the direction in need of a therapist than a matchmaker.”
She nods her head in understanding. “I will file her under the declined list and have Stacey send her a courtesy email.” Harlow hands me the folder in her possession. “Here is the client you will be interviewing Thursday morning.”
“Aren’t we skipping a step here? You run the numbers-”
“Which I did-”
“Then I do the online stalking for a few days and then I decide if he or she warrants the first interview to insure they match the persona they’re presenting.”
Harlow offers me a crooked smirk. “Actually Level Three did your job already. This is technically one of their cases.”
My head falls to the side in disbelief. “What?”
“Yeah. The guy like just crossed onto the billionaire list and they want you to handle it.” She lowers her voice to barely above a whisper. “There’s talk of Scarlet retiring, which leaves a space open, so….”
“This is my audition.”
She gives me a wink.
Seriously? Moving up would be amazing. Not only for my bank account, but for my pride. I love what I do, but I always strive to be better. It’s how me and my brother were raised. Always push to be on top. Climb and keep climbing. Don’t wait or expect handouts. Work and never stop working for what you want. I stayed true to our instilled nature and he rebelled. Severely.
Harlow motions her head towards the folder. “His name is August Augustine.”
I can’t stop the sneer that slides onto my face.
“I know. Not a lottery winner in the name department, but he was a
n actual lottery winner about ten years ago. Made some wise and some risky investments according to accounting, which is how he increased his millions into billions. He scored quite well on his initial paperwork and according to the database, he would make a great candidate for at least ten women on our current client list.”
Opening the folder, I mumble, “That’s my job to decide.”
“And mine as well,” Harlow snips, shifting my eyes back to hers. “You’re great at what you do, Carly. Really great. But your job is not of more value than mine. The system works because it keeps the situations balanced. You can beat a test and fail an interview the same way you can fail a test and ace an interview. We are two equal parts to one whole. Please remember that the next time you choose to undermine my opinion.”
Shame slides down the sides of my neck as I drink in her distressed demeanor. Her glower is closer to vexed than livid, but her rapidly rising chest indicates I definitely kicked sand on a line I had no right to. “You’re absolutely right, Harlow. I’m sorry.”
She tips her head a little higher.
Harlow is one of the shyest women I’ve ever known. She typically keeps her face down. Focus completely devoted to work until it’s time for her to go home to her daughter. She rarely speaks unless spoken to. The level of comfort she has finally reached with me took years. She’s closed off, but possesses the same people evaluation skills I do, except hers are all on paper. She seems to have an unparalleled ability to read between the lines. Spot what’s written in invisible ink. She dissects everything, from what you convey from your word choices to the way your handwriting is slanted. Honestly, she has skills that would be ideal for some sort of criminal task force. The only conclusion I can come up with for her choosing this, rather than something for the greater good of humanity, is her daughter. Job security like this is important when you’re a single parent. Financial security is a close second. At this company? She easily has both.
