by Mj Fields
He smiles. “Low tea.”
“That’s not a thing,” I tell him as he begins to sit beside me, and I roll onto my back.
“No?” he asks quietly as he looks me over.
Leaning down, he cups my cheek and kisses my forehead as he moves his hand down the side of my neck. “I’m so glad you chose New York.” He kisses my cheek. “I’m so glad you chose me.” He takes my mouth with his own, with more need than I have felt from him since the first time we kissed.
A groan rumbles in the back of his throat. It’s the most sexual sound I have ever heard.
He then moves his hand from my face, down my entire body, until he lands on the bare flesh of my outer thigh. Between my legs, I feel heat, and everything inside of me tightens with awareness.
He pushes his warm tongue into my mouth as he licks deeper.
I hear a zipper and know one of two things is coming: he wants my mouth or me.
I spread my legs wider, telling him non-verbally that I want it to be me.
When he begins to pull away, I grab the back of his neck, dragging him back to me. I kiss him as I sit up, pushing him back farther and farther until I’m straddling him.
Once on his back, he groans my name, “Stella.”
“I’m on the pill,” I murmur against his mouth, gripping his hard length then sliding my hand from root to tip while using my other hand to push my panties to the side. I rub him against my saturated folds.
“Christ, Stella,” he lets out on a guttural groan.
He leans over and pulls out the nightstand drawer and grabs a condom from it anyway.
Once it’s on, I begin to slide down him as I grip the hem of my dress and pull it over my head before tossing it onto the floor.
He grips my hips and thrusts fully into me, stretching me … recklessly, painfully, but … Oh God, how I love it.
“Yes,” I moan then whimper when he rolls me onto my back and thrusts harshly inside me.
“Is this what you want?”
“God, yes,” I cry as he fucks me harder, faster.
My name on his lips, surrounded by curses, heightens my sensation, and I feel myself ignite. I cry out his name as I come around him.
I feel him spasm inside me, and then he pulls out, tears off the condom, fists himself, strokes himself up and down until he comes on … my belly.
He looks at me, scowling, and huffs, “I shouldn’t have done that. I made a mess on you.”
Seeing his angst in what he had done to my belly makes me giggle.
“It’s not funny, Stella.”
I take my finger and point at him. Then, looking down, I put it on my belly and swirl it around “his mess.”
“What the hell are you doing?” He looks at me like I’m insane.
“Finger painting.”
He eyes me suspiciously, and I smile.
“You’re insane.”
“I’m pretty sure that’s why you fell for me, crazy hair, buck teeth, and all.”
He smiles softly, genuinely, adoringly. “Yeah, I did.”
When he suggested I stay behind, the first thing I felt was a weight in my heart dropping. After what I heard, I thought maybe he was embarrassed of me, or I was a bother. But mostly what I felt was how much I wanted to rip Spencer’s hair from her head, strand by strand. Right now, though, I feel sure about two things: him and I.
“Love me?”
He nods. “You know I do.”
“Love you, too.” I push myself up on my elbows, look down at my belly, and smile.
“You’re something else.”
I sit up and scoot to the end of the bed. “I’m going to shower, throw on one of your tee-shirts, and go make something to eat. Then, when you get home, maybe we can Netflix and chill.”
“You sure?”
I nod. “Most definitely.”
Monday morning, I’m standing in the kitchen of Elijah’s apartment, cup of coffee in hand, looking out the wall of windows at the city. I sigh contently.
The weekend was full of good intentions and foiled plans.
I Netflix and chilled while Elijah worked on issue after issue at work. But he did so here, with me.
I hadn’t realized how much I missed having someone who truly loved me simply fill the space I was in. I’d been too busy to realize there was even a void.
I asked several times if I could help or if he wanted to talk about it, but the more I offered, the more he would become agitated. So, I stopped offering and simply relished in the warmth of his presence. And that was enough. It wasn’t like I wouldn’t be busy myself at de la Porte New York.
I worked for the company for some time while attending London College of Design. It paid my tuition. And for six weeks this summer being there full-time, the energy and newness of the London branch was off the hook, but surely it wouldn’t be as, dare I say, exciting and fun as New York will be. I’m sure at some point I will be overloaded like Elijah is now and have bad days he will have to contend with. I can’t let my emotions get the best of me. So now, I enjoy the last lazy Monday morning I will have for years and years to come. Because, in one week, I start my job at de la Porte New York.
I raise my mug to adulthood then swallow down a sip of coffee, trying my best to disguise my distaste for it.
I prefer tea.
Walking over to the kitchen sink, I empty the cup, rinse it, and fill it with water. Then I turn to the island where I saw a pen and notepad earlier. I decide to make a shopping list, tea at the top of the list. Hopefully, I can find Ceylon for my morning cup, as well as Darjeeling for my afternoons.
I hear my phone vibrate and smile, thinking it will be Elijah, who let me sleep in again this morning.
When I look at the screen, I see the picture ID. It’s of Natasha and me, dressed to the nines at the spring line release event.
I hit accept and then speaker. “Good morning, boss lady.”
“Ugh, you know I hate that.” She sighs with exaggeration.
In a regal voice, I ask, “Are you at your Hamptons home?”
“And that,” she grumbles.
I laugh. “But you love your life.”
“I do. I so do.”
I can hear the smile in her voice and imagine the twinkle in her eyes.
“I am so happy for you.”
“And I’m happy for you.” She pauses, and I wait for what I know is coming. “Oh my God, spill the tea!”
I don’t just spill a drop. I spill the whole kettle.
She insists we end the call and opt for FaceTime over voice, saying she needed to see my face.
“Give it more time. After you’ve been apart as long as you two have, it’s truly all new again. You’ll find your groove.”
“I hope so because I have wanted to roll up a newspaper and swat his nose a few million times already.”
Natasha laughs. “But he’s not a puppy.”
“Yeah, well, sometimes he acts like one.”
“You sounded much worse on the phone than you look right now.”
“I guess I just didn’t think there would be such a …” I pause and think of the words. “Divide? Distance? I don’t know.” I sigh heavily. “I thought when we were finally in the same place, it would just be easy, feel natural?”
She cocks her head and looks at me with sympathy.
I shake my head and shrug. “I’m sure it’s just jet lag. It’ll all work out.”
She nods as she takes a sip of her tea, and I laugh.
She swallows then asks, “What?”
“Maybe jet lag and withdrawal.”
“Withdrawal?”
I cringe. “I had coffee this morning. I miss the tea.”
She laughs, and I can’t help laughing right along with her.
“Oh my God, I forgot to tell you. I ran into Aaron at the fundraiser.”
“How is he?”
“Jacked.” I laugh.
“Are we talking about the same Aaron?”
“Is there another?”
She smiles. “So, he’s back from his world travels?”
“Hey, how do you know that and I don’t?”
“We’re friends, Stella. Hell, even he and Oliver are friendly.”
“Oliver is friendly with your ex-boyfriend?”
“Oh my God, he was never my ex-anything.” She rolls her eyes. “He was just around.”
“He liked you. Hell, I think he loved you. I even asked him if he was over you.”
“Over me?” she gasps. “Stella, we never even so much as kissed. He probably just felt sorry for his best friend’s … best friend.”
“Pft, Aaron only came around again when you and I became friends.”
She takes another sip of tea.
“He liked you.”
“Of course he liked me. I was your friend.”
I giggle. “And I don’t have unlikable friends.”
She smiles and nods. “True. Oliver and I were out to dinner one night and saw him.”
“Okay, now it’s your turn to spill the tea. What did she look like? Where were you? And most importantly, how annoyed did your hottie husband look when he saw him?”
She laughs. “My hottie husband happens to be my best male friend. And—”
“Glad you clarified male because I would go toe to toe with him for the spot.”
“The spot’s been yours since my first day at Manhattan School of Arts and Design. No take backs. But, as I was saying, Oliver knows I am his. There was never anyone else and never will be.”
Her statement brings me back to what Elijah said in the bedroom, and I smile.
She grins. “What’s that smile for?”
“Just thinking of how awful I’ve probably painted him. I mean, he’s been off lately, but he’s always been off, so to speak. He’s driven beyond his age. He’s a tad bit controlling now, demanding even.”
“The blow job in the car?”
I laugh and nod. “I was so annoyed he wouldn’t kiss me after, but I guess that’s just Elijah.” I lean in. “Is Oliver like that?”
“No two men are alike.” She shrugs and looks down.
“So, he kisses you after you …?” I leave it hanging.
“And I kiss him after, you know …” She leaves it hanging, too.
I must have made a face because she asks, “You don’t?”
“He’s only done it once. I didn’t really like it.”
“What?” She almost laughs but bites it back.
“Well, I worry about things, like: does it taste bad? Do I smell funny? Does he like the landing strip or would he prefer it all gone?”
“Oh my God, Stella, if the man’s hungry, he’s not going to be thinking: is the food on fine china or a paper plate? Just let the man eat and enjoy the hell out of it.”
“What does this have to do with paper or china?”
I lean in when I see a body walking into the room behind her.
“You coming to bed?”
It’s Oliver.
She smiles and looks back over her shoulder. “Can you tell me what it is a man thinks while he’s going down?”
“What kind of a question is that?” he asks.
She holds the phone up. “Girl talk.”
“I have no idea how to answer that, Natasha.”
“Honestly,” she says, bringing the phone back down. She laughs when she sees me peeking between the fingers of my hand that is now covering my face because I’m completely embarrassed.
“Natasha,” he grumbles.
“Oh, come on,” she sighs.
“I don’t give a damn what other men are thinking. I’m thinking I want to make you come, and I want to taste it when you do.”
Holy shit, I think.
“And does it freak you out to kiss me after I suck you off?”
“You do know you’ve just sealed your fate for tonight, right?”
She laughs. “Just answer the question.”
“I’d drink my own cum with a straw from your beautiful lips.”
“Fucking dead.” I laugh.
She shrugs. “Like I said, let it happen.”
“When you’re stressed, what do you want Natasha to do for you?” I ask, and Natasha turns the camera as Oliver runs his hand over his face.
“Yeah, Oliver, when you’re stressed, what do you want me to do for you?”
He narrows his eyes at her. “You know damn well what I want.”
“A blow job,” I answer, even though it’s not a question. “I mean, to clarify, it’s a blow job, right?”
He’s looking at Natasha. It’s an intense look.
“Well, spill it.”
He whispers, “Go ahead.”
“It’s not often he is stressed, but …” She looks away from me and back at him. “You sure?”
“I’m sure the sooner she gets an answer, the fewer questions she’ll have, the shorter this conversation will be, and the sooner we’ll be in our room, playing out the scenario you two were just talking about.”
She smirks and looks back at me. “He likes to snuggle and listen to music.”
“I don’t snuggle.”
“You sure do.” She winks at him.
When she looks back at me, I put my hands over my chest. “Adorable.”
“Aren’t we?” she whispers, and I nod. “Text your man and have him meet you for lunch. The more time you spend together, the quicker the walls will come down.”
“Will do. Love you, Natasha.”
“Love you, too, Stella.”
As soon as we disconnect, I message Elijah.
Me: You busy for lunch?
I wait a few moments for his response.
Elijah: Be ready at noon. I’ll send Roger to get you.
I can’t help smiling, feeling giddy.
Me: Excellent.
7
Stella
Present Day
Sitting at a table, I look at my watch. He’s ten minutes late.
I look around and decide to stand in line to order food at American Art Café, a counter service eating establishment inside the Met. I’m starving. I also have no idea how much time Elijah has for lunch, and the line isn’t getting any shorter. I guess that there is a good fifteen-minute wait as it stands.
I’m not sure why he chose a place that was self-serve, or one inside the Met, but I assume it’s because of the way I took it in the other night, which is thoughtful.
When I am three people from the counter, I decide to message him to see what he would like to eat.
After I hit send, I feel a hand on my lower back and turn around.
“Sorry I’m late.” He kisses the top of my head. “Lunch meeting ran over.”
“You’ve already eaten?”
His eyes narrow, and he nods. “My schedule is so tight these days that I don’t even know when I’m coming or where I’m going. But the important thing is that I’m here.”
“Can I take your order?”
I look away from Elijah and to the sweet, smiling girl at the counter. “Do you by any chance have Darjeeling tea?”
“I think the fountain tea is Lipton.”
Great, I think.
I order a salad and Elijah orders … nothing.
When we sit, he looks at my salad. “Are you going to eat?”
“I’m really not hungry,” I lie. “I just thought maybe …” I stop when he reaches in his suit pocket and looks at his phone. His face tightens, and then he sputters under his breath before quickly looking up at me.
“What?” His tone matches his face—pinched.
“Nothing.” I stab my fork in the salad and take a bite.
“You’re pissed?”
I don’t answer, because I’m chewing.
“I told you I fucked up. I thought you were returning next week. I’ve tried my best to be available, Stella.” He waves his hand in front of the table. “But obviously you—”
“Don’t say something you can’t take back, Elijah,” I cut him off after I swallow. �
��I’ve yet to go off on you about anything that’s gone down.”
His brow shoots up. “Go off on me?”
“You’re acting like you don’t know I’m capable, but you know I am.”
“Never with me,” he snaps.
“Not yet anyway.”
“I’m giving you my time. I’m letting you crash with me until you get a place. I’m pulling myself in two different directions so you aren’t alone until you start your job and have something to focus on besides my shortcomings.”
I stand, and he rises at the same time.
“What are you doing?”
“I lost my appetite,” I say, taking my tray and walking toward the garbage.
“Don’t cause a scene.”
I smile up at him. He looks shocked.
“I wouldn’t dare.”
After I deposit my tray and toss the Lipton, I walk toward the exit. When I reach to open the door, he beats me to it. When I step outside, he grabs my hand. When I’m halfway down the steps of the Met, he stands in front of me, blocking me from moving, and drops my hand. Cupping my face, he pulls my head down to his and kisses me. When I don’t return the kiss, he pulls back and looks at me with angry but pleading eyes.
“Don’t do this to us.”
My heart nearly breaks. “I’m not doing anything to us.”
“I shouldn’t have to remind you of where we came from and how far we’ve come, Stella.”
“But we’re doing it wrong.”
“How?” He grips my face harder. “Tell me, and I’ll fix it.”
I have no idea what to say to him because he’s right. We never had the best role models in this game they call love.
“Tell. Me.”
“Don’t push me away every time I try to fill the empty space between us.”
“Then don’t rush me, Stella. I’m trying. I really am.”
The anger changes to pain, and I can’t take the pain in his eyes. I lean down and kiss him then step back and nod. “Okay.”
“Okay?”
“Okay.”
He closes his eyes and takes in a deep breath.
I decide to walk back to Elijah’s. I need to stop at the corner drug store to grab a couple of things, like strong tea and a newspaper.
When I get off the elevator, I’m carrying a bag with two bottles of wine and three newspapers.
