by Ana Balen
The remaining surprise of my entrance in his eyes is quickly replaced by something else.
Something darker.
Something that makes my already weak knees, shake, barely holding me up.
With every step I took since entering this building, going down the crowded hall and getting closer to him, I knew in my bones something would happen.
Something would change.
I thought I will say what I have to say, go through with my decision. And then walk out and disappear out of his life. But standing in front of him now, looking at him, I know I can’t.
I can’t let him go.
I can’t lose him.
And maybe I’m weak, maybe I’m a bad person.
Maybe I’m just like my mother.
But I’ll take him anyway I can.
Because, I can’t live without him.
And with each step, my heart beat faster and harder. My hands shook more. My breath became more shallow.
And it’s come to the point I’m becoming lightheaded because I just simply can’t breathe.
“Heather,” my name and his mouth saying it quietly is the only movement either of us made in the last two minutes we’ve been staring at each other. But at the same time, the quiet way he said it, the warm tone he wrapped around it explodes in me like a thunder. And just like thunder it vibrates through my body, jolting me, bringing me back to life. And making me run to him.
I don’t have to run far.
I barely take a second step when his arms come around me, squeezing me tight, taking my breath away.
I don’t even have the chance to lift my head to get a closer look at his face, before his hand is in my hair, fisting it and tugging it lightly to angle my mouth the way he wants it.
And then he’s kissing me.
It’s not a gentle kiss, between lovers who hadn’t seen each other in a while, they missed each other and are happy to finally be together.
No, it’s nowhere near that.
This kiss is hard.
It’s brutal.
It’s consuming.
It’s claiming.
There’s no gentleness of teasing, no tip of tongue coaxing my lips to open for him, to welcome him back.
No.
From the moment his lips touched mine, his tongue forced its way into my mouth and momentarily engaged mine to participate.
“Goddamnit, pretty girl,” he growls as he stops the kiss. His hands running up and down my sides like he’s trying to find purchase but doesn’t know where to start.
I don’t have time to catch my breath or to even open my eyes, before my shirt is coming off me so forcefully, I have no other choice but to lift my hands and allow it.
Stunned I open my mouth to say something, but the words die in my throat as he pulls the cups of my bra down and in the next millisecond one of my nipples is in his mouth and he pulls deep. And the other is between his fingers and he rolls, hard.
The only thing I’m capable of is a long, loud moan that comes out, and holding on to his shoulders as my knees go weak, my back arches backwards sending my breast deeper into his mouth, my head lolling back on my shoulders.
“Fuck,” he explodes releasing my nipple the air that comes out of him sending shockwaves to the sensitive flesh.
Righting my head, I try to look at him, but the vision of him is swimming in my eyes, the sensation of pure, undulated pleasure still swimming through every fiber of me.
He lets go of me only for a moment and I sway, the quakes still dominating my muscles, and kneels in front of me.
“Nick,” I whisper clawing at his shoulders trying to get him to... I don’t know what I want him to do. I just know I need something.
Something to put a stop to this, or to go further, anything he wants, just something to give me some relief from this pleasure filled pain.
He doesn’t even glance at me, doesn’t even acknowledge I said anything. His hands span my jean cladded hips, and he pulls me to him, and bites the apex of my thighs, his teeth scraping over my clit.
“God,” I breathe as just this barely there sensation makes my knees buckle.
The sound of metal clicking brings me back to the room and lifts a haze he successfully wrapped me up in. His hands are frantic, shaking as he unbuckles my belt and opens up my jeans.
“Lie down, pretty girl,” he murmurs not taking his eyes from his hands that are now inside my jeans, on my hips, finally hitting my skin and pulling them along with my panties down my thighs.
He stops mid thighs so his hands could trail along my skin, tracking my movements as I do as he said.
“Nick,” I call his name again. But, again, he ignores me, instead going down my body again, trailing his fingers over me, his eyes watching his hands.
“Hush, baby,” he whispers. “Give me this.”
I have so much to tell him. I played this moment, our reunion so many times in my mind. Trying to find a way to not to get to this moment, to say what I have to say and walk away from him, from this.
But the minute I laid my eyes on him, I knew I couldn’t go through with it.
And now, seeing the need in his eyes, feeling it pour out from his hands, making itself known all along my body as he coats my skin with it, I’m unable to do anything but what he asks of me.
So I don’t say anything else, I don’t do anything but touch his face, bringing his mouth to mine.
I kiss him, touching just the tip of my tongue to his lips and without moving back I confess something I thought I never would. “I need you, Nick.”
“You have no idea how much,” he says, giving my need back to him. Saying he feels the same. And with that, our little calm in the storm is over as his hold on control breaks and his want for me comes back full force in his eyes and tensing every muscle in his body.
He kneels back up and yanks my jeans and panties sending my flip flops flying. His hands come to my knees, spreading them forcefully and with the next breath he dives in and licks me from my entrance right up to my clit robbing me of my breath.
“Nick,” I moan and burrow my hands in his hair pulling him more to me.
His mouth sucks and does it deep. His two fingers enter me deeper.
“Nick,” I whimper as warmth fills my body and my head starts to swim pulling me up to the peak. “Baby, please.”
“What? What do you want, baby?”
“I want you,” I say through labored breaths trying to get a hold of this sensation.
“You have me, pretty girl,” I can feel his smile against me, the arrogance of it tickling me simultaneously as his tongue sends jolts of pleasure every time it touches me. “I told you all those weeks ago, you have me.”
“Please, Nick.”
He must have heard it in my voice, how close I am, because in the next second I hear rustling of clothes, and in the next one the tip of his cock is catching at my entrance and in the next he gives one brutal thrust and then he’s inside me.
The sting of him filling me, scratching me is enough to send me just that little bit closer.
“Look at me,” he growls lying on top of me, one of his arms next to my head holding up most of his weight, the other on the side of my neck, his thumb pulling my bottom lip down.
I give him what he wants just so I could get him to move and start doing it fast.
“I love you,” he breathes the moment he gets my attention, then without giving me a chance to react he starts moving. At first, it’s slow almost as if he’s trying to contain himself. But then, as I wrap one of my legs around his waist, put the sole of my other foot on his calf, and tilt my pelvis to give him more of me, he picks up his pace.
He kisses me, sending me yet again to highest of heights. And when his finger finds my clit and gives it a single roll, I tore my mouth away and give myself over to the sweet feeling of my climax.
Coming down from it, I focus on the man who has my body, heart and soul. His face is in my neck, his breath tickling me. And he gives a on
e, two, three powerful thrust before he stills completely and the shudder wrecks his body as he groans, “Pretty girl,” making me convulse around him.
After a few moments of lying like that on the floor of his office, he lifts his head, “Spend the night with me.”
And like from the start I don’t object.
I don’t think of consequences.
I don’t think of anything but him and me.
About this moment.
And the next.
And then, the next.
And in every one of them I want him near me.
And like from the begging I do as he says.
*~*~*
“I don’t know what to do anymore,” his voice breaks through the dark.
For the first time we’re in a bed. After we had sex in his office, he said he wanted to take me out to lunch. How we ended up in this hotel room I still don’t know.
All I know I was excited in one moment like a high schooler going on their first date ever and in the next I felt Nick’s hand traveling up my thigh. I looked at him and was met with the same hunger that was reflected on his face that was cruising through me from his first touch.
“Come here,” he murmured.
I leaned toward him, his fingers threaded in my hair and he pulled me the rest of the way to kiss me.
We had sex not even an hour before, but the moment our lips met, our tongues clashed, and we started to tear each other’s clothes off.
Nick pulled away, pushed the button and said, “Take me to the Hilton.”
“Yes, Sir,” was heard through the speaker in the doors and hearing the word Sir, I gave Nick a wicked smile before I leaned over his lap, opened his zipper freeing his hard cock and took him in my mouth.
The rest of the ride was filled with silence, that was occasionally broken with Nick’s groans.
It was the best time ever.
Until now.
“What do you mean?” I whisper. I don’t have the energy to even lift my head from his chest. And his fingers that are drawing random patterns on the small of my back and my ass are lulling me to sleep.
“I want to be with you,” he says simply.
I close my eyes, thankful that he can’t see my face.
I want that more than anything, but I’m realistic enough to know not to ask for it.
Still, I admit, “I want to be with you too.”
He doesn’t say anything, but the breath he takes is big enough to lift my head up. I ride it the rest of the way and look at him through the dark.
He’s face is turned away from me, looking at the lights of the city that are trying to pour into the room and break this moment.
“Can I ask you something?” I gulp.
“Yeah,” he sighs. Almost as if he knows what I’m about to ask.
“Why are you here?” I want to and don’t want to know the answer at the same time.
He doesn’t need me to explain what I mean. He knows exactly what I want to know.
“Because I can’t be with Claire anymore, because she made my life a living hell, because I go to bed every night alone,” he pulls me back to his body and says softly, “because I love you.”
“But why not-”
“One day I’m going to figure things out. One day I’m going to be free. One day this will all be over,” he clears his throat and doesn’t say anything else.
What does that mean?
Will he divorce his wife?
Will we be together then as a normal couple?
Or will we be over?
I don’t ask any of these questions. I lean over him, cup his face turning it towards mine and against his lips, I whisper, “One day.”
*~*~*
Four weeks later...
The movement of the sheet as it trails down my naked back, raises goosebumps along my skin.
“Morning, pretty girl,” Nick murmurs in my ear the greeting I get to hear almost every morning. The one I daydreamed about. The one I finally have.
For the last four weeks, we’ve spent almost every night together.
After that night in a hotel room, and after he asked the next day that I spend the night with him, I threw all caution to the wind and brought him here.
To my home.
We never talked about what we said in the dark. And we never mentioned that one day mantra.
I wanted to know what he meant so much I almost let it slip a few times.
I was too scared to ask.
I was just happy I had him with me.
Then I stepped more over the line of insanity and gave him the key to my apartment so he could come to me whenever he wanted.
And almost every night, he would either come home with me straight from work, or he would come in the middle of the night when he put Ben to bed. And he would either wake me up in the middle of the night so he could have his way with me, or in the morning. Again, so he could have his way with me.
I’ve reached a new level of stupidity when not only have I given him access to me whenever he wanted, I also started making nightly plans with him.
We also started texting each other about nothing and everything under the sun.
Just like any normal couple does.
But we were not like any other couple.
And there lies my stupidity.
I’ve let myself forget that fact.
We were still cautious in the office, but I knew Beth knew what was happening. Fortunately, for some insane reason, she was happy for us and didn’t mind giving us any and all excuses as why he would lock himself in his office, or why we needed to go out to lunch.
On the odd nights when we were apart, those were mostly weekends when his wife was at home, we would end our night with sweet texts and promises of being together soon.
I asked him once how come his wife, who I’ve never referred to with her name, that would make her all the more human and I couldn’t handle that, is not suspecting anything. More so with him not sleeping at home.
At that, he just shrugged his shoulders and told me the rumors were true. They don’t share a room, nor a bed. And besides, she’s out all hours, and she’s also used to him working all hours, including sleeping in his office. Also, for her to cotton on that something is happening, something any wife was dreading of happening, she would actually have to be interested in Nick and their marriage, and she hadn’t shown barely any interest in over two years.
I didn’t tell anyone, but hearing him say that, not only gave me a relief from the guilt that was plaguing me in every moment we’ve been apart and sanity tried to invade, and much needed excuse of our actions, it also gave me a relief and secured in my mind he was only mine.
With every breath I knew what we are doing is a one colossal mistake, but I couldn’t help myself.
And somewhere along the line I stopped caring.
“Hey,” I whisper not yet opening my eyes but instead enjoying the feel of his lips trailing the sheet.
“Wish I could stay with you today,” he says.
“Me too.”
“I’m sorry, baby. But I have to go and spend some time with Ben. He’s been counting down the days for this trip to the Zoo,” he tells me something he had told me ten times over the past week.
“It’s okay,” I whisper trying to get him to stop talking about the real world that’s outside my apartment doors and the people who live in it.
I made an art of denial. I didn’t allow myself to think about his wife and son, because I knew, the moment I let the reigns of it go, the harsh reality of what exactly I was doing would crush me.
“You’ll be back in two days,” I remind him. “Your son needs you. And you miss him. So, go and spend some time with him, be a daddy, then come back to be with me.”
“And I can’t wait.”
“Mmmm.... me either.”
“How are you feeling this morning?” he asks.
“Sore,” I admit through a smile as last night’s activities run through my mind.
> “Did I hurt you last night?” There’s concern coloring his moments ago teasing tone.
“But then again, that feeling is also delicious,” I give him a smile with my eyes still closed and stretch just to feel the sting again.
He chuckles a little and I open my eyes only to see he’s dressed already and ready to go.
He bends at the waist, coming closer to me and bites the cheek of my ass, whispering against my skin, “See you in a couple of days, pretty girl.” Standing up, he winks at me and in the next second he’s gone, and I can hear a soft click of my front door as he leaves me.
“Bye,” I whisper to the now empty room the same feeling entering my heart.
*~*~*
All day I’ve been restless.
I cleaned my apartment, tried to call Erin to see how she is doing and if she got her situation under control, but she didn’t answer her phone or either of my numerous messages. She’s been dodging my calls since the last time I saw her, or when I could finally get her to answer, she refused to talk about it and thus letting me know all was not right in her world.
I’ve tried everything I could think of to get my mind off the email I got from Eric Matthews. Even with the colossal mistake I made during the meeting with him, he reached out to me, containing a job offer and the fact that once again Nick left me here all alone.
I’ve had nobody here.
And for the first time in a long time I acutely felt that.
And once my phone pinged alerting me that I got a message, I was plummeted straight to fiery depths of hell.
Because I got a picture under which were the words. We miss you.
A picture of a man I loved embracing his son.
Their smiles lit up my room even through the screen.
The little boy with dirty blonde, going on brown hair, held up a cartoony themed car balloon, his father’s blue eyes sparkling with mischief, his smiley mouth surrounded by a ring of what only could be chocolate.
The picture of a joy.
We’ve never discussed his family, his son and the only time he even mentioned his wife was when he explained the lay of the land between them. So, why would he send me a picture with his son when I painstakingly avoided the real world, was beyond me.
But it served its purpose.
Closing down the picture, I go to my laptop and open up a certain email. With every word I type one tear slides down my face, but I do it.
