Unable to wait one more second, I head toward his office, and, as I come near, I hear music. Like a child, I put my ear up to the door and grin when I hear Norah Jones’s beautiful voice singing “Don’t Know Why.”
I didn’t know Eric liked her, but I am delighted to find out.
I quietly open the door and see my tough guy sitting next to that huge fireplace with a wineglass in his hand as he contemplates the flames. I’m enveloped by the music, the warmth, and the emotion when I see him, and I start toward him. Suddenly, he turns his head and spots me.
He shoots up. I’m breathing harder, and his face says it all: he’s surprised!
He leaves the glass on a little table. His astonished face makes me happy, and I drop the backpack I’m still carrying around in my frozen hands.
“Papá says hello and that he hopes we have a happy New Year’s Eve.” Eric blinks; I shudder. “And since you told me I could come back anytime, here I am! And . . .”
But I can’t say much more. My tall German walks toward me and embraces me with genuine tenderness.
“You don’t know how much I wanted this to happen,” he whispers before kissing me.
When he lifts his lips from mine, he just smiles . . . until suddenly he flinches.
“For the love of God, Jude! You’re frozen, my love! Come and sit near the fire.”
He takes me by the hand, and I do as he says. He looks at me with such warmth.
“Why didn’t you call me?” he asks, still in the throes of the surprise. “I would have gone to get you.”
“I wanted to surprise you.”
Looking worried, he pushes the damp hair from my face.
“But you’re frozen, love.”
“It doesn’t matter . . .”
He kisses me.
“Have you had dinner?”
I shake my head, and he helps me out of my cold and frozen coat.
“Take off those clothes. They’re wet, and you’ll get sick.”
“Wait. It’s all right,” I say, laughing and feeling lucky. “I have clothes in my backpack that . . .”
“Everything in your backpack is wet and cold,” he says, and quickly takes off his gray Nike sweat jacket.
He’s so impressive. Every day he reminds me of that handsome Paul Walker.
“Here, put this on while I get some dry clothes from my room.”
He darts out of the office, and I can’t help laughing like some silly girl as my body finally starts to warm up. I’m once more subject to the Zimmerman Effect.
I’m being so very silly.
I’m totally lost in love.
And before I can even move, he’s back, carrying dry clothes and wearing a blue hoodie.
When he sees I haven’t taken off my wet clothes, he undresses me as Norah Jones’s “Turn Me On” plays in the background. God, I love that song!
Eric doesn’t stop looking at me. Feeling pampered, I try to tempt him with my eyes and my body. I want him. Now naked before him, I struggle with the gray sweat jacket he’s trying to pull down over my head. “Dance with me,” I tell him once I have the jacket on.
Shoeless and without underwear, I hold on to the man I adore and make him dance with me. All honeyed-up and feeling completely protected, I dance with him to this delightful, romantic song on the soft rug in front of the fireplace.
I love being in his arms, and I know he loves being in mine. Our feet move slowly on the rug, and our breathing fuses together. We dance in silence.
Once the song is over, we look at each other, and Eric leans down to give me a sweet kiss on the lips.
“Get dressed, Jude,” he says in a sensual voice.
I can’t explain how he makes me feel, and I smile even more when I see he’s brought me a pair of briefs.
“Oh . . . it’s wonderful! And, Armani—sexy!”
Eric grins, gives me a little love pat on the ass, and hands me a pair of soft white socks. “Get dressed and stop trying to provoke me! Come on, sit down by the fire. I’ll go to the kitchen and get you something to eat.”
“There’s really no need, Eric . . . really.”
“Oh yes there is, sweetheart,” he insists. “There is. Sit down and wait for me.”
Enchanted by both his happiness and mine, I do as he asks. He gives me a kiss and goes off.
Once I’m alone in the office, I look around. I open my drenched backpack, pull out a comb, and sit down on the rug to disentangle my wet hair. I’m struggling with it when Eric comes in with a tray. When he sees me, he puts the tray down on the desk.
“Here, give me the comb. I’ll do it for you.”
Like a little kid, I nod and let him comb my hair. Feeling his hands disentangling it so gently drives me crazy. It makes me shudder. He can be so tender sometimes that it seems impossible I could ever argue with him. Once finished, he gives me a kiss.
“The problem with your beautiful hair is solved. Now it’s time to eat.”
He stands up again, gets the tray from the desk, and brings it to the rug. He sits next to me and immediately and lovingly kisses my neck.
“You’re beautiful, sweetheart.”
His face, his words, the look in his eyes, everything about him, reveals how happy he is to have me here. The delicious steam from the broth reaches my nose, and I pick up the mug. Eric won’t stop looking at me as I drink from it.
“I really surprised you, didn’t I?”
“Yes, you did,” he confesses, and pulls another lock of hair from my face. “You never stop surprising me.”
That makes me laugh.
“Just as I was about to get on the plane, I got a call from my father. He told me that if what made me feel lucky was being with you, I should stay, that I shouldn’t discard the chance to be happy. For him, it’s more important that I be here, with you, satisfied, than to have me by his side, knowing I’m missing you.”
Eric grins. He picks up the York ham sandwich and brings it to my mouth so I’ll take a bite.
“Your father is an excellent person, sweetheart. You’re very lucky.”
“Papá is the best person I’ve ever known in my life,” I say after swallowing a chunk of sandwich. “In fact, he told me starting a new life with you during the holidays was wonderful and that I shouldn’t take it for granted. And he’s right. This is a new beginning, and I want to enjoy it with you.”
Eric offers me the sandwich again, and I take another bite.
“I’m definitely staying with you in Germany,” I say once I’m sure he’s grasped the full meaning of my words. “You can’t get rid of me now.”
The news has such an effect on him that he doesn’t know what to do until he drops the sandwich on the tray and takes my face in his hands.
“You’re the best, the most beautiful and marvelous thing that’s ever happened to me.”
“Seriously?”
Eric grins and gives me a kiss on the lips.
“Yes, Miss Flores.” When he realizes the way I’m looking at him, he quickly adds in a husky voice, “I’m not going to attend to your desires until you’ve finished the broth, the sandwich, and dessert.”
“The whole sandwich?”
My German whispers in a way that makes me shiver, “The whole thing.”
“And the banana too?”
“Of course.”
His answer makes me laugh.
I grab the mug and drink, my eyes on him the entire time. I can tempt him with my eyes, and I can see he’s excited.
Once finished, I put the mug down without a word, then turn to the sandwich.
“For dessert . . . I’d rather have you.”
Eric is pleased.
He kisses me, and I push him down on the rug and straddle him. His penis is hard and ready to give me what I want and need. His hands go up my legs slowly and gently and then come to a halt on my thighs.
“I still can’t believe you’re here, sweetheart.”
“Touch me and believe it,” I say, inviting him.
“Eric . . . you really get my motor running.”
He grins. I grin.
“You want me to show you what you do to me?” he asks, hungry, panting.
“Yes.”
Eric grabs the briefs I’ve got on and, without any sort of preamble, takes them off me. He then takes off my hoodie, and now I’m completely naked before him. His hands go directly to my breasts.
“Give them to me,” he whispers as he pulls me toward him.
I lean down and offer him my breasts. He kisses them delicately; then he places a nipple in his mouth, and, after it gets hard, he commits to doing the same to the other as his hands press me to him. For a few minutes, I simply enjoy his amorous touch. It’s so wonderful, warm, and curious, and then his strong hands make me move, and he snakes under me until I’m hovering above his mouth.
My stomach flinches when I feel the warmth of his breath at the center of my desire. Oh yes! He grabs me by the waist with his strong hands.
“I’m going to taste you,” he says as I melt. “Just relax and enjoy it.”
I’m suspended above his mouth as Eric keeps his promise and lets me revel in delight. His avid tongue, so desirous of me, searches out the center of my pleasure like an exquisite feast and makes me moan uncontrollably as I close my eyes and burn up second by second. His darting tongue, already on my swollen clitoris, brings me to the edge of orgasm over and over, but he doesn’t let me come.
Kinky images pop into my mind as the man I love takes everything he wants from me, and I give it to him, and want more. To be alone in his office in front of the fireplace, naked, is delicious and wonderful. But, inexplicably, a little voice in my head whispers that if we were a threesome, it would be even better.
I open my eyes. What’s happened to me? Eric has managed to get me so hooked on his game that now I’m the one who fantasizes about it.
I moan and feel a little naughty.
“I want to play, Eric . . . I want to play with you at whatever you want,” I say, letting my fantasies lead me.
I know he hears me. The little slap on my butt confirms it. His mouth is all over my labia; his teeth nibble, causing waves of bliss. He finally lets everything culminate, and I reach my climax.
After my body recovers from that sublime assault, Eric presses me to his chest and smiles triumphantly.
“Fuck me, Jude,” he asks in a raspy voice.
My cheeks are flushed from desire for him. It’s not the fireplace that’s making me hot; it’s Eric. My Eric. My German. My Iceman.
Ready to let him enjoy as much as I have, I get comfortable and take ahold of his penis. It’s exquisitely smooth. Without waiting another second, I bring it inside my vagina.
I’m drenched, and I feel as if the tip of this marvel were reaching almost to my uterus without his even moving.
Oh God, that feels so good! I move my hips from left to right, trying to get more space, and then I squeeze him. Eric closes his eyes and gasps. He always likes that swaying move. I do it again.
“Look at me,” I say, my hands resting on his chest.
My demanding tone in that moment makes Eric quickly open his eyes and look at me. I’m giving the orders. He’s asked me to take the initiative, and I feel powerful. Suddenly, I change up my hip movement and give a little jerk toward him, and Eric gasps as his body contracts. He puts his hands on my hips. The beast inside Eric is awakening. But I take his hands, lacing his fingers with mine.
“No . . . don’t move. Let me.”
He’s so eager. Charged. Hot.
I can read his look, and I know what he wants. What he’s thinking. What he yearns for. Once more, I move my hips, this time more powerfully. I impale myself on him, and we both groan.
“God, sweetheart . . . you drive me crazy.”
I repeat my movements over and over.
I take him higher and higher, but I don’t let him come. I want him to feel what he made me feel just a few minutes before; his gaze hardens. I grin. His hands try to grab me again, but I stop him and continue my quick circular movements, taking him to where I want to go. His pleasure is my pleasure, and when it looks like we’re both about to combust, I quicken my movements until a tremendous orgasm overtakes me, and my Iceman, frenzied, tenses and lets himself go.
So sated by what’s happened, I let myself fall on him, and he puts his arms around me. I love to feel him close. Our heavy breathing eases, and slowly we relax again.
“I adore you, sweetheart,” he says in my ear.
His words are so fueled by love, they drive me crazy, and all I can do is smile like a fool as he brings his arms around my waist and presses me to him.
We stay like that, on the rug, until Eric sees I’m shivering and suggests we get up. He grabs a dark blanket from the armchair and puts it around me. Still naked, he sits down and, not letting go of me, has me sit on his lap as he moves a lock of hair from my face.
“What were you thinking when you told me you wanted to play whatever I wanted?”
This takes me by surprise. I wasn’t expecting it.
“Come on, Jude,” he says, seeing the reaction on my face. “You’ve always been honest.”
Incredible. How does he know I’m hiding something?
“Well . . . I . . . The truth is, I don’t know,” I say, trying to explain what I was thinking. “All right, let’s see . . . I’ll tell you. I love making love with you; it’s magnificent and very exciting. The best. But while I was thinking this, it occurred to me if there’d been three of us on the rug, everything would have been even kinkier.” And then I quickly add, “But, love . . . don’t get weird about it, OK? I adore sex with you. I love it! And I really don’t know why that came to mind. But since you told me to be honest . . . I . . . I wanted to tell you . . . but really . . . the truth is I really enjoy myself with you and—”
His laugh cuts me off, and he hugs me tighter over the blanket. “I love knowing you want to play, sweetheart. Sex between us is fantastic, and the game is a supplement in our relationship.”
“That’s such a good way of explaining it! A supplement,” I murmur.
Eric kisses my neck, and, standing up and carrying me in his arms, he’s clearly happy.
“For the moment, beautiful, I want you exclusively for me. We’ll supplement another day.”
14
I struggle to remember where I am when I wake up the next morning, but Eric’s smell invades my nostrils, and, when I finally open my eyes, I find him beside me.
“Good morning, beautiful.”
I’m so happy he’s still in bed with me at this hour.
“Good morning, beautiful,” I say back to him.
Eric leans over to give me a kiss on the mouth, but I stop him.
“Let me at least brush my teeth. I can’t stand my own taste in the morning.”
I don’t wait for his response and jump out of bed, go to the bathroom, brush my teeth in less than a second, and, not worrying about my hair, I exit the bathroom, leap on the bed again, and hug him.
“Now. Now you can kiss me.”
He doesn’t make me beg. He kisses me as his hands get tangled in my body and I, elated, get tangled in his.
“Listen, love, I’ve been thinking . . . ,” I say, several kisses later.
“Hmm, it’s so dangerous when you think!” Eric teases.
I pinch his ass, and he grins.
“I’ve been thinking now that I’m here, you don’t need to hire anybody to watch Flyn when you’re not around. What do you think of the idea?”
Eric stares at me.
“Are you sure, sweetheart?”
“Yes, I’m sure.”
We chat while hugging on the bed for a long time until, finally, the door opens.
&nb
sp; Goodbye, privacy!
Flyn’s brow is furrowed. He’s not surprised to see me, and I imagine Eric has let him know I’m here. He comes up to the bed, but he doesn’t look at me.
“Uncle, your phone is ringing.”
Eric lets go of me and takes the phone. He gets out of bed and goes to talk near the window. Flyn still won’t look at me, but I’m determined to win him over.
“Hi, Flyn! You look very handsome today.”
The boy finally looks my way.
“Your hair makes you look like a madwoman,” he says.
And without another word, he turns and leaves.
Knowing the boy is going to be a tough nut to crack, I get up, go to the bathroom, and view myself in the mirror. It’s true; I look like a madwoman! My hair got wet last night, and now it’s neither wavy nor straight; it’s a mess.
Eric comes into the bathroom and hugs me from behind. I watch in the mirror as he rests his chin on my head.
“Sweetheart, you should get dressed. They’re waiting for us.”
“They’re waiting for us?” I ask, surprised. “Who’s waiting for us?”
But Eric doesn’t respond, just kisses my head and leaves.
“I’ll wait for you in the living room. Hurry.”
I look at myself in the mirror again. Eric and his little secrets! I decide to take a shower. Back in the bedroom, I see Eric left my jeans and shirt from last night, now dry, on the bed. That’s so endearing. Once dressed, I gather my hair in a ponytail. I go down to the living room, and Eric hands me a blue coat that isn’t mine but is my size.
“Your coat is still wet. Try this. Let’s go . . .”
I’m about to ask where we’re going, when Flyn runs up, also wearing his coat and gloves.
I take Eric’s hand and don’t say a word until we reach the garage. The three of us climb in the Mitsubishi and get on our way. As we pass the trash cans on the street, I spot a dog lying in the snow. I feel sorry for it. Poor creature, it must be so cold!
Half an hour later, we park in a private lot and go up an elevator. The doors open on the fifth floor, and a tall man with an impeccable look opens his arms wide to greet us.
“Eric! Flyn!”
The boy throws himself in the man’s arms, and Eric shakes his hand. The three of them stare at me.
Now and Forever Page 9
