by Daisy Allen
The hair there is shaved, around her scar. She guides my fingers over it. It's soft and smooth. I close my eyes and count the bumps, the stitches scars. It feels nothing like it looks.
"That’s where I hit my head and fractured my skull. I was in a coma for almost a month. But it’s all healed now. See? Nothing to worry about. I'm okay."
I open my eyes; she takes my hand and places it against her chest. My hand automatically cups around the curve of her breasts and she giggles a little.
"Feel my heart beat?"
I do, counting the thump-thump against my palm. "It's fast."
"Yeah. You do that." She moves her hand to run them over my wrist and fingers. "Did it hurt? When you carried me to the bed?"
"Yes." I won't lie to her. "A little."
"I'm sorry," she says, her face falling, her eyes losing their shine.
"Hey," I lift her chin with my finger, forcing her to look at me. "It's okay."
I take her hand and press it to my heart.
"What you do for me in here, heals the injuries I have here," I show her the scars on my hands.
She nods, understanding and sighs.
There's a twinkle in her eye and I wonder what she's thinking. She moves her hand down my chest, over my stomach to rest between my legs. My cock twitches, coming to life instantly.
"What about what I do for you there?"
"Be careful, or else you're going to find out."
Her eyebrows lift and she runs a fingertip along the length of my hardening cock. "Is this careful enough?"
"What do you think?"
"I think I could be a little more careless," she teases, her fingers curling into a fist and stroking the head of my cock.
I inhale sharply. Fuck. How can she make me want her so badly. Crazy woman.
She grins at me, as she feels me harden and lengthen under her touch.
"Getting close to the line, baby," I warn her, daring her.
"Oh, I think I'm okay, still. I have pretty good balance, I can walk this tightrope."
Her thumb brushes over the tip, and my heart and dick both jump.
Fuck.
Too far.
I swat her hand away and push her back down onto the bed.
"Hey!" she protests, but I quiet her with a hard kiss. Then I sit back and trace the lines and curves of her naked body with my fingertips.
She’s so beautiful.
Naked and stunningly fucking breathtaking. So much it moves me, that she’s giving herself to me.
"What?" she says, after a moment of me silently ogling her, and tries to sit up, covering her chest with her arm.
"No, no no no," I say, gently pushing her arm away, "never cover up. Never. You're stunning."
"No, my boobs are too big," she says, and I can't help but laugh.
Laugh a little too loud and long because she sits up and glares at me, pulling the blanket up over her.
"Sweetheart. Just, no. That's not a thing."
"What?"
"Too big boobs."
"You try carrying them around."
"It would be my honor." I say, pushing her back down onto the bed and trapping her legs under mine as I straddle her, cupping her breasts under my hands. They're full and luscious and round and demand my attention.
I lower my mouth over her right breast, breathing deeply, my hot breath washing over them, and she squirms.
"Careful, Jez," she warns.
"Of what?"
" I might like it."
"Oh, you can count on it, sweetheart," I say and run my tongue over the tip of her nipple. Her curse is my reward, but I don't have time to gloat before I do it again, slowly, the hard laps of her nipple with my tongue making it glisten.
"Ohhh," she moans. And it becomes my goal in life to make her make that sound.
I reach over to her other nipple and flick it with the tip of my fingers. Her hips buck under me, and her hands come up, tangling in my hair, pushing my mouth down.
"This, by the way, since you interrupted me. Was third on my list. Of things I wanted to do to you."
"What was fourth?"
"I'm so glad you asked."
I slide my way down her body, pushing her legs apart and plunge my tongue inside her.
"FUCK!" she yells, her legs kicking out.
"Shhhh... the neighbors will hear," I tease her before sliding my tongue back inside her. She whimpers, and it drives me on. I gently part her, exposing her clit, and blow gently on it for a moment before wrapping my lips around it.
She gasps and I know she's close. My sweet, sexy minx is always on the edge, it seems. And I can't wait to see how many times I can push her over the cliff and her hear scream my name.
I move my mouth away to make room for my thumb to circle her clit and my tongue slide back inside her.
"Ohhh... don't stop," she begs.
"I won't," I promise her. "Come for me."
"Ohhh yes," she mumbles, her hip circling along with the motion of my hand.
My tongue laps at her, drinking in every drop of her as my fingers press harder, faster against her button.
"Oh god!" she screams and I feel her constrict around my tongue, her whole body arching as she trembles, her hands coming up to cup her own breasts.
It's so erotic that I need to be a part of it.
I slide up her still shaking body, and pull her on top of me.
"Fuck me," I tell her. And she nods, her eyes still glazed over.
I hold myself ready for her and she slides on top of me, sinking down, all the way down in one earth-shattering movement,
"Oh, Jez," she moans, her hands digging into my stomach, drawing half-moons into my skin with her nails.
"I showed you how much I wanted you, now you show me," I growl, my hands against her hips.
She doesn’t say a word, just rocks her hips, and I feel myself grazing against every inch of her.
I'm pulsing so hard inside her, I know she can feel it.
"Fuck me, baby," I urge her, and she moves faster, each time sliding down harder, taking me deeper, embedding me into her body further. Making me hers, completely.
"Oh, baby. Now. Now," I grunt, and I thrust up into her, feeling myself harder than I've ever been, before I release.
Everything.
For her.
She's coming down when I finally catch my breath, and she lays down on top of me, her chest against mine.
Her hot breath over my skin.
"I told you to be careful," I say, and she lifts her chin, digging it into my sternum, looking up at me.
"I was as careful as I needed to be," she says with a wink.
"To do what?"
"To do exactly what we just did."
"Dirty girl.”
"That's better than ‘Toilet Girl,’” she giggles and tickles my bare stomach.
"Yeah." And then it occurs to me. "Wait, what?" I sit up, not sure I heard her clearly.
"What?"
"What did you just say?"
"I don't remember, wasn't important,” she shrugs.
"No... it was. Are you getting your memory back?"
"I don't think so... why?"
"You said, 'Toilet Girl.’" I say it slow, pointedly, but her expression doesn’t change.
"Yeah, I guess... not sure what that means."
"That's what I called you... when we met. I called you Toilet Girl!" I can barely keep the excitement out of my voice.
"What?” she exclaims, her eyes wide, surprised. “Why?"
"Who cares why! You remember!"
"I... I guess. I don't know why or how or what it means, I just... I just remember you calling me that. You sure it wasn’t since we met at the hospital?"
"No! Oh, Emmie!"
"You mean..."
"I think you're starting to remember... or at least something is waking up!"
"Jez!" Her eyes start to well up and I can feel mine threatening to as well. "Oh my god! Hurry up, brain! Give it up!" She shakes her head a
little, as if trying to dislodge a water bubble in her ear.
I laugh, a weight lifting. She's starting to remember.
And then she'll know, we were meant to be all along.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Noémie
It's late when we finally fall asleep, bodies exhausted, but spirits happy about the hope that I'm starting to remember. I don't feel any different. Or maybe I do, maybe I don't even know that I'm remembering. Just that, he called me Toilet Girl before my accident. And now I remember it.
We've decided to continue not talking about what happened before so that I won't mix up things he told me with what I really remember.
But it doesn’t matter.
I'm happy just to dwell in our present. Our giddy, happy, sexy, perfect present.
Sometime around midnight, we lie down by the window to watch the last of the fountain shows below, our room lit up only by the lights from the Eiffel Tower, and he falls dead asleep in my arms.
I don't really know who are you, Mystery Man Jez, or where you came from or why you're here.
But I've never been happier in my whole life.
I fall asleep, with his breath soft and steady in my ear.
***
It's warm.
And bright.
Ugh, too bright.
My eyes open and snap shut again.
Sun.
Bloody, freakin' too bright, killing-my-eyes sun.
"Ughhh," I groan, pulling the sheet over my head. And then I realize, other than the light, I'm comfortable, more comfortable than I have ever felt. I lift the blanket and see I'm in bed. How did I get here? Did he carry me here during the night? Damn. His poor arms.
But damn, this bed is comfortable. It's soft and firm all at once. Every part of my body feels like it's being hugged by puppies. Fuzzy and warm and soft. A cloud of puppies, hugging me.
"Ahhhh," I sigh, stretching out.
I'm going to need to get me one of these beds.
"AHHHH," I sigh even louder, just for the fun of it.
"Hey. I don't like when you make that noise and I'm not the one making you make it," Jez’s voice looms over me.
I poke my head out from under the blanket. He's already showered and dressed. Where the hell did he get new clothes from?
"Well, come in here and fix the problem then," I grin, moving over on the bed.
"Don't tempt me."
I wiggle my eyebrows and pull the sheet completely away, exposing my naked body.
I can't believe I'm acting this way. I'm not usually so confident, but Jez has shown me in no uncertain terms that he desires me. And it's made me more bold than ever.
He takes a deep breath, drops a knee onto the bed to lean over me and kisses me hard.
I reach for him, but he pulls away.
"NO!" he commands, pointing a finger at me, "Down, temptress, down. I have other plans for you right now."
"Oh, really?"
"Yes, come on."
"Do I need to get dressed."
"No, you're dressed perfectly for what I have planned for you." I climb out of the bed, suddenly shy, and wrap the bedsheet around me. I follow him into the bathroom and I can't help but let out a gasp.
"Oh, Jez," I sigh, looking around me.
He's filled the giant marble bathroom with candles, everywhere. The lights are dimmed but every surface is lit up in that soft orange hue that only comes from a naked flame. The large round tub in the middle of the room is filled, steam coming from the hot water, bubbles overflowing the rim, the scent is like a field of lavender. Decadent, luscious, heavenly.
And there's another scent as well. Just as heavenly, just as decadent.
What is that?
Oh god.
Coffee.
I notice a silver tray on the side of the tub, holding a French press and a double walled glass coffee cup. There’s also a plate with a fluffy croissant, and the smell of butter is making me drool.
"Coffeeeeeee." I say, and it sounds like the Cookie Monster's come to visit. I let go of the sheet; it drops to my feet as I reach for the tray.
He laughs. "I thought you might like that. I thought if you've been suffering through the same coffee as me at the hospital, you might be missing a good cup.” He comes up and hugs me from behind. I lean back against him, enjoying the feel of his chest against my back, protective, strong, mine. He kisses my ear gently and I shiver.
“This is amazing, I love it. I haven’t had a good soak in a tub for so long,” I coo, happily.
“Good. I’m glad you like it. I had to light the candles pretty damn quick in case you woke up and needed to use the bathroom.”
I turn around and give him a soft kiss. I feel so spoiled.
“Get in and I’ll bring the tray over to you.”
I wish I could take a photo of this moment to remember forever.
"Hey, turn around," I tell him, as I prepare to climb into the tub. The last thing I want is for him to watch my lack of athleticism as I try to traverse the bath.
"No. You're beautiful." He says firmly, and doesn't take his eyes off me. He watches as I throw my legs over into the tub as gracefully as I can and sink down into the bubbles, almost getting lost in them.
"AHHHHHHHH," I sigh as every pain, every ache, every niggling discomfort in my body dissipates.
"There's that sound again," he laughs.
"Yeah, well, you could join me,” I wink at him, lifting a bare leg into the air.
"Maybe later, I thought you might like to just have a good soak for a bit. I had a long shower before. Someone tired me out last night." He hands me the coffee cup and I take a long sip, ignoring the burn on my tongue and down my throat.
"Bliss," I say.
"Enjoy it, Emmie," he says, kissing my forehead, and hands me the tv remote before tiptoeing out the door.
I sink deeper into the tub, turning on the water jets, letting out a slow hum as they vibrate through my body. Yeah, okay, I could get used to this. The only thing that is going to make this any better is some mood music.
I grab the remote and switch on the TV.
"Ugh, no," I say, changing the channel. The Bellagio has a TV channel completely dedicated to their fountain music. They must have mentioned it five times as Jez was checking in.
"Nope... nope... nope..." I say, flicking through the channels.
"Bingo," I stop on the MTV channel, laying back and turning the volume up as high as it will go.
There's a string of pop songs, some I know, and some I know so well that I’m soon singing along as I splash around content in the tub.
The end of a classic Britney song fades out and the beginning of a music video I've not seen before starts up.
It's set in the middle of a forest at night, spot lights focus on the center on the band, set up in a clearing among the trees.
When the music starts, I close my eyes and lay back.
It sounds slightly familiar, I may have only heard it one or two times before. It's starts out like classical music, and then it suddenly blends into a fast-paced lyrical rock song. It's amazing. Strings weaving in and out of simple melodies and complex harmonies. It’s atmospheric and yet punches you in the stomach as well.
I open my eyes to see who it's by. The camera is spinning up and over the trees, not focusing on the band. I squint, reading the caption of song and band.
"Forest Lullaby by The Rock Chamber Boys." I read out loud. “Oh, of course," I say to myself. I'd heard their songs on the radio before, but never an original. Or seen a music video.
The camera flies back in through the trees and zoom in on the band.
One by one.
Right up on their faces.
On his face.
Oh my god.
No.
"JEZ!!!!!" I yell, pulling myself up in the tub, causing a wave of bubbles and water to splash on the floor. "Oh my god. JEZ!" I yell again.
He comes running in, almost slipping on the floor.
"What?
What's wrong? Are you okay?" he shouts, looking me over, face stark with worry.
"Oh my god," is all I can say, pointing to the TV, not really believing what I’m seeing. "It's... oh my god. It's you."
He spins around, facing the TV, and freezes as he his own face staring back at him.
I look from him, to the screen and back again, slack jawed. I can’t believe it.
"Oh my god. That’s you!"
"Shit." He says and grabs the remote from me.
"No!" I snatch it back, and focus back on the screen. He's... fuck. The Rock Chamber Boys have won a Grammy! Maybe more than one.
And he's... he's one of them.
And he's... fucking amazing.
I watch as the camera zooms in on his fingers, moving up and down the neck of the cello like he's tapping out Morse code, calling for help. His head bent over the neck of his cello, sweat dripping from his fringe and catching on the spotlights, his bow thrusting back and forth, drawing magic from his instrument.
I can't turn away, not until the song is over. And then I wish I could hear it again.
There’s a loud drum beat as the next song starts up, and he slowly reaches out and takes the remote from me and turns the TV off, avoiding my eyes.
"Jez. You're…. you’re…” I don't have a word for it.
"What?" He says, his face tight, his hand pushing his fringe away from his face, his mouth in a hard, set line.
“Your playing is… it’s exquisite, Jez.” I suddenly feel embarrassed about all the times he’s heard me play the ukulele. That silly little play instrument, and me playing it like I’m some serious musician, and here he is, one of the best cello players in the world. Fuck. Why didn’t he say anything? “Jez! You said,.. you said you didn’t play. Or… that you don’t play any more…” I try to remember his exact words that night.
He just looks at me, his eyes giving away what the rest of his face is trying to hide.
Oh my god. It all makes sense to me now. Why he hadn’t said anything, why his recovery has been so hard on him.
Because of who and what he was.
Oh god, Jez. There’s a crack in my chest, and I know it’s my heart, breaking for him.
I hold my hand out to him. "Take my hand, Jez.”
He frowns, not sure what I want.
“Take my hand.” I say again, and he fights for a moment, but then his shoulders fall and he complies.
