“You’re still in the doghouse, you know. I don’t want you to forget it, but just because you did something stupid doesn’t mean I’m punishing myself too,” I tell him breathlessly.
The corners of his lips lift in the boyish half smile I love so much. “I wouldn’t expect anything less from you.”
“Good. I haven’t officially done the math yet, but you owe me a number of back orgasms plus restitution orgasms, so you’d better get busy. I wouldn’t count on a whole lot of sleep until you’ve made me whole.” I tighten my legs around him for good measure.
“I’ll make it up to you,” he promises, softly kissing my head, my nose, my cheeks…everywhere but my mouth. “I’ll make it up to you. I’ll make you happy. I’ll keep you happy Princess, I promise.” And then he seals his mouth over mine once more and the only communicating we do from that point on is with our bodies. I’m still wrapped around him when he turns around and starts to walk down the hallway, through the living area, and into a shorter hallway. He walks us through an open doorway and I’m so happy just to hang along for the ride, I only notice that he’s brought us into his bedroom when he lays me down on a bed.
The room is dimly lit with the only light in the room coming from a lamp on the nightstand, but it’s perfect because I can see everything, and right now I need to soak everything up. My thighs are splayed wide and he kneels on the comforter in the space between my legs. He stares down at me for long minutes, his chest rising and falling with each breath he takes.
“Beautiful, Princess. You’re beautiful, you know that? And it’s not just ‘cause you’re gorgeous. It’s because you were made for me.” His voice is hoarse, guttural, and filled with emotion.
The ache in my chest expands with each second that ticks by, and the only way I can appease it is by losing myself in him. “Come closer,” I whisper.
He closes his eyes and groans, but then he falls forward so that he’s on me. He holds himself up with an arm on either side of me so that he doesn’t crush me, but I want him, I want everything so I wrap my arms around his neck and pull his mouth down to mine. He takes my mouth urgently, drinking from it like he’s never going to get enough and it makes me wild. My hands are just as wild on his body and when I’ve felt my fill, I start yanking at his clothes. I’m able to push his shirt up enough to where it gathers underneath his armpits and he pulls his mouth away from mine so he can pull it off.
And then time stops.
“Baby what’s wrong?”
“Maybe we should have done this in the dark,” I whisper.
He looks at me in confusion, and then I push myself up on my arms so that I’m sitting on the bed. My index and middle finger trace over the circular, puckered scars that mar his perfect flesh, and I’m unprepared for the sudden grief that tightens around my heart. I press my other hand against his heart and mentally calculate the distance from the bullet wounds to where his heart is, and a sob tears from my throat. Just a few inches over and… “I could have lost you forever.”
He tips my chin so that I’m staring at him instead of his scars. “Princess, don’t cry. You didn’t lose me, you have me. We have each other.” I think he knows that I won’t be able to stop myself from going down his path if we continue like this, because then he bends his mouth to mine and seconds later, he’s sweeping me away on the wave of another soulful kiss.
His hands busy themselves with pushing and tugging my dress, and I raise my arms up to help him take it off.
“What’s that?” he rasps, staring down at me with a look so hot, there’s a rush of wet warmth between my legs.
I know he loves my breasts, but I glance down to see what’s got him so entranced. Black lace in the shape of flowers are on my…Oh. Right. “They’re pasties. Because my dress doesn’t have a back, so I—mmmph!”
Pasties and bullet wounds are forgotten because pretty soon our hands are flying to get all remaining clothing articles off. Piece by piece, they fly in every direction across the room. His belt, my panties, his jeans, and boxers. When I go to peel off the pasties, he stops me so he can carefully pull the adhesive away from my sensitive skin. When he gets one off, my nipple puckers instantly and he sucks it into his mouth making me cry out at the pressure from the suction as he gently works to remove the other one. My fingers tangle in his soft hair, holding his head as he moves to my other nipple, bathing it with the same attention. His hands stroke up and down my sides until one wanders lower to delve between y legs. The padded tips of his fingers rub gently, softly—he’s testing my readiness, I know. He lets out a satisfied grumble against my breast before he rewards me by slipping two of his fingers inside me.
His lips coast against my skin, whispering words of encouragement, praise, love…
And what poetry tumbles from my mouth?
“I’m on the pill,” I gasp.
It’s something we’d talked about months ago. He was clean and had always used protection, and the thought at being his first for something had excited me. I’d actually started the oral contraceptive the week before the policeman’s ball and I hadn’t stopped taking it, so we were…safe.
“Baby, are you sure?” His eyes search mine and I nod.
“Unless you’ve been playing naughty nurse with someone else…” I trail off.
He lets out a bark of laughter before he rolls me to my back. He teases me, coating himself in my moisture before he lingers against my clit, rubbing his tip around me in slow, torturous circles.
“Mark Daniels, if you don’t fuck me right now—“ I break off, gasping sharply when he positions the thick head of his cock against my entrance and thrusts deeply.
Finally. He’s finally inside me, bare, hot, hard, and pulsing, stretching me to fit around him so perfectly that my body is a mold for his. The pressure starts to build within me almost instantly. “Oh my god,” I whisper.
“You were saying?” he teases.
He’s panting too, and even though there’s a playful light in his eyes, there’s something deeper too. I recognize it because it’s the same need that’s woven itself through every fiber of my being. I raise my hand to his beloved face and trace along the features that haunted me in my sleep. “I love you,” I tell him.
“I love you more,” he whispers. He moves his hips tentatively and brushes his mouth against mine in a sweet kiss. “It’s never been like this, it’s never felt like this with anyone else. You’re my only. You’re everything, my crazy, sexy Princess.”
“You’re just saying that because I’m letting you screw me without a prophylactic,” I tease.
Laughter rumbles out of his chest, and then it rumbles into mine because he connects his mouth to mine. My lips lift at the corners and I kiss him back with everything I have and then the laughter is forgotten because he’s moving inside me.
Maybe it’s the confessions of love, maybe it’s the emotion, maybe it’s because it’s been so long and we’re so desperate for each other or maybe it’s the combination of all of it, but it doesn’t take long for us to find fulfillment. His hips rock into my body in perfect rhythm with my hips which arch up to cradle him each time he gifts me with his cock. The pressure, which was already building rapidly, crests in that single peak of sharp pleasure mingled with sweet pain, ripping a strangled cry from my throat.
Seconds later, he joins me.
I don’t know what it is, but in that instant, my heart starts to lift. Any doubt I had that we won’t be able to make it through is washed away, and I know that he’s right. I am meant for him.
And he’s meant for me.
Mark
Our breathing finally evens out, and her sweet body is pressed against mine. Her head rests on my shoulder, tucked under my chin, and she’s got an arm and a leg splayed across my body. I want to tell her I wish we could stay in this moment forever, but I’m pretty sure if I say any more sappy shit tonight, I’m going to have to turn in my man card permanently.
“Mmmmm. You know, I always thought I’d be the on
e who did something cockamamie to screw us up,” she murmurs sleepily.
“Huh?”
She yawns and cuddles closer. “Well, you know. I’m the crazy, impulsive one. You’re the even, balanced one. I’m the one who didn’t want a relationship, and I just wanted to use your hot body for nefarious sexual purposes, so if anyone did anything cockamamie to screw us up, it should’ve been me. But it was you, and now you owe me orgasms forever!” She chortles gleefully.
I think I get what she’s saying, but she’s still confusing as hell. I chalk it up to the alcohol, but then…
“Cockamamie, Princess? Really?”
“Blame Bertha. I’ve been hanging out with your grandmother way too much.”
Liz
Some years later…
It’s piercing, awful. The sound is so earth shattering, I turn to Mark and declare that God’s a misogynist of the worst sort. He looks at me from under bleary eyes and then he lopes out of bed to the mini fridge we keep in the corner. He swipes up a packet out and settles in into the small baby warmer before his large frame gracefully moves to gather up our questionably amazing bundle of joy.
It’s not that he’s not gorgeous. He is—with his downy baby skin covering full cheeks, and bright blue Connor eyes, and dark hair. Baby Liam is the spitting image of me. Otherwise, he resembles his father with his gargantuan appetite and equally gargantuan size.
How I managed natural labor is a feat that needs to be recorded in a book of memorable feats. I’d insisted that Sophie make a submission for the Guinness Book of World Records.
She says she has, but I have my doubts.
“Hi there, little penguin,” I coo, as Mark settles him comfortably in the crook of his arm so he’s all set up for feeding. He’s too busy being hangry to smile back at me, but I know once the monster is fed, he’ll literally be all shits and giggles.
I think it’s adorable that Mark wants to experience the bond of feeding our baby. Since I’m on maternity leave, I breastfeed during the day, but I know my man treasures these nights. Seeing an adorable baby cradled by a six foot, Herculean god tickles my fancy too, so I don’t much mind the interruption.
We’ve come so far, from me ogling his perfect ass to almost losing him to nearly losing my mind when I found out he sort of wasn’t who he said he’d been.
But it was all worth it.
This perfect man who got under my skin, just as much as I did his.
THE END
Drew and Charlotte’s story will be coming out in Fall, 2015.
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Acknowledgements
Thank you to all of the readers who begged for a Liz story! This wasn’t in my original plans, but I am so, so glad I got a chance to tell this story.
I would also like the acknowledge the following people who have been instrumental in me writing this:
Cathy Z - You rock. Seriously. Thank you for all your support, guidance, and advice when I am frantically emailing/calling/texting because I’m panicked about my story.
Tina Kleuker - You have been such a great help! Thanks so much for your quick one liners and constant willingness to help me with my design dramas :). You are genuinely one of the nicest of the nicest!
Nash - Love you bro. Thanks for everything which includes listening to me vent, hearing me plot story lines out loud, and looking after my dogs when I need a sitter. :)
Kris & Sofia - My favorite couple! Sof, thanks so much for listening to me complain as I wrote this, giving me my Aria fix via FaceTime, and being so supportive. Kris, thanks for being there to answer questions and give me your opinion. I will never say this in person, but sometimes you are right ;). Love you bro.
Welby - I couldn’t have done this without your help. Thanks for letting me pester you and schooling me in the ways of cops and how PBA cards work.
My NY girls - You know who you are. Miss you all terribly. Thanks for your endless support.
About the Author
Delia Foster fell in love with love after discovering her mother's old Harlequin novels in the garage--at the tender age of twelve. Her hobbies include writing, reading, copious amounts of wine, and a serious addiction to handbags (it's bad). She lives in Texas with her family and two fur babies.
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Other Books by Delia Foster
Beyond Bliss
Sweet Sophie Harlow hasn't had sex in almost two years...
Before she turns thirty, she's determined to end her dry spell.
Sexy Lucas Sinclair finds himself in a bar sitting right next to Sophie and her best friend as they strategize on how to get Sophie back in the proverbial saddle. Unable to stop listening to their hysterical conversation, when he sees the face and body that belongs to Sophie's voice, he makes plans to help an unknowing Sophie along on her quest.
He pursues her with everything at his disposal, but when she realizes exactly what she’s dealing with, Sophie is determined to be the one woman he doesn't get. Already experienced in relationships with wealthy egomaniacs, she wants nothing to do with his type.
When he invades her space, she's helpless to resist the chemistry between them.
Will Lucas destroy her heart, or will he be her bliss?
State of Grace
Grace Sinclair likes baggy, comfortable clothes. She’s got one too many curves that she plans to never put on display. When she’s forced into a revealing bridesmaid’s dress for her brother’s wedding, she’s certain of one thing: the guests are bound to get an X-rated show during the wedding.
What she didn’t count on was attracting the attention from him...
Sean Holden has lost count of the number of times he’s been on the receiving end of her feisty tongue. He’s been engaged in battle with his best friend’s little sister for as long as he could remember. As best man, he’s dreading the inevitable encounter. His only options are fight or flight.
But then…
A curvy redhead with sparkling eyes enters his vision and he starts to wonder if he can add sugar to her spice.
And he suddenly finds himself wanting to stay…in a state of grace.