Ella and Micha: Infinitely and Always, Page 2Jessica Sorensen
I do feel lonely, though, a lot more than I like to admit. It’s not like I’d ever leave Micha over having to live alone. I knew what I was getting into when I married him. It would just be nice if the tours would ease up just a tiny bit so we could actually spend more than a few weeks together every few months.
“Ella, what are you doing up here?” Micha suddenly says from behind me.
I spin around on the bench, startled so badly my heart slams against my chest. “Jesus, you scared me,” I say breathlessly. Then I lower my hand and savor the sight of him.
Dressed head to toe in black, he nearly blends in with the inadequate lighting of the stage. My fingers twitch to feel the muscles of his lean body and his soft, sandy blonde hair that hangs in his aqua eyes. My lips are desperate to taste his lip ring. God, I fucking love that lip ring.
He softly chuckles. “You know, I could take a picture if you want. It’ll last longer.”
I smile up at him. “I just might ask you to do that.”
He moves around the bench and plops down beside me. His fingers align with the keys, and the notes he creates sound a lot more like music than the noise I was just making.
“You looked sad,” he tells me as he rests his fingers on his legs.
I shake my head as I turn around on the bench and face the piano again. “No, I was just bored and passing time.”
“Are you sure?” His fingers enfold around my knee. “You know you can talk to me about anything, including if you’re sad or if some blonde crazy girl said something to you that was completely inappropriate.”
“How did you find out about that?”
“Jerry, the bouncer, told me about her.” He sighs. “I’m so sorry she said that stuff to you. You know it’s not true, right?”
“Of course I know it’s not true. Micha, trust me, if I’ve learned anything about our relationship over the last six years, it’s that I can trust you and tell you anything. And I didn’t tell you about crazy Blondie because it doesn’t matter. You love me—that’s what matters.” I bring my leg up and rest my chin on my knee. “Now, enough talk about me. It’s your turn for you to tell me what’s wrong. Because I know there’s something bothering you.”
He stares at his fingers massaging my kneecap. “I hate burdening you with my problems.”
I cup his scruffy cheek and force him to look at me. “It’s never a burden. I promise.”
He swallows hard. “I think I’m just tired.”
“Of this?” I point at the stage.
“Maybe, not necessarily the singing part, but the touring part, Mike, the label … They're all getting on my nerves.” He turns around in the seat and stretches his legs out as he reclines back against the piano. “They’re trying to change my image. They want me to turn into the cliché, tortured, slutty, rock singer.”
“I’m so sorry.” I lace my fingers through his. “You know I’m here for you, whatever you do or whoever you choose to be.”
He brushes his hair out of his aqua eyes. “I know you are.” He smoothes the pad of his thumb across my black-stoned wedding ring. “I just worry that, if I make the wrong choice, I’ll ruin our future.”
“Our future’s going to be fine.” I give his hand a squeeze, fighting back the tears. More tours? A sluttier image? Yeah, there goes any hope for incidents like with the blonde hair puller to stop. “Even if you have to be a slutty manwhore.”
He snorts a laugh as he traces the folds in his fingers. “Yeah, well, I’m glad you think so.” He flips my hand over and sketches the lines of my palm. “Okay, enough sad talk. Tell me something new.”
I rack my brain for a response. “Um, well, Lila and Ethan bought a new car.”
He stares blankly at me. “That’s all you got? Come on, pretty girl, I want some happy news.”
I shrug. “Sorry. Nothing’s really happened. Us common folks live pretty boring lives.” I search for something else to tell him, something better. “Oh, yeah.” I smack my free hand against my forehead. “Dean and Caroline are having another baby.”
“Really?” He doesn’t seem as happy as I’ve thought he would, his lips twitching to turn downward. “When?”
“I think she’s just over three months pregnant, so she’ll have the baby in April.” I study his expression carefully, wondering what’s troubling him now.
He bobs his head up and down, nodding distractedly as he develops a sudden interest in his boots. “That’s nice. I’ll have to make sure to call and congratulate them.”
“Make sure to sound more happy when you do, though.” I’m not sure what to say to him. Either he’s still sulky over his job or about the fact that he’ll soon have another niece or nephew and still no daughter or son. I wish I could fix both for him; but, the first problem is out of my hands and the second I’m just not ready to deal with yet. Yes, I love him more than anything, but my fear of being a mother is still astronomical.
A slow breath eases from his lips as his gaze collides with mine. “Sorry. I’m being a downer, aren’t I?” He leans toward me, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. “That isn’t fair to you after you flew across the country to see me.”
“Micha, you should know by now”—I press my lips together, trying not to laugh as I prepare to quote a line from one of his songs—“that I would travel to hell and back just to be with you.”
“Ha, ha,” he says playfully, sticking out his tongue. “You wound my heart, Ella May. I wrote those lyrics for you and you mock me with them.”
“I’m not mocking, just having fun—”
He cuts me off as he nips at my bottom lip, eliciting a soul-bearing groan from me. He slowly starts unbuttoning my shirt, picking up the pace the farther down he gets until he finally becomes so impatient he rips the fabric off.
“I miss your kisses the most.” I willingly lean against the piano as he unfastens my bra and urges me back.
He quickly stands up to tug his shirt over his head and then places an arm on each side of me as his body hovers over mine. “I miss everything the most,” he says before he kisses me. “All the fucking time. I swear to God, I need to see you more.”
My legs fasten around his waist as the ivory keys dig into my flesh. My fingers trace the outlines of his muscular stomach, the inscription of his tattoos, feeling his heart slamming erratically against his chest.
Excitement bursts to the surface when he pushes back to undo the button on my jeans.
“Micha, wait.” I pant. “Are we really going to do this?”
“Do what?” He teases me with a cock of his brow as he gradually unzips my jeans.
I kick off my shoes while I gasp for air. “Have sex on a piano.”
He pulls my jeans and panties off, his passionate gaze skimming every inch of my flesh, stifling my eager body with overpowering heat.
“You sound so excited about the idea,” he says as I reach for the top of his pants and unflick the button.
“I’ll take it wherever I can get it.” I sit up and yank his jeans down. “Besides, we can add it to our growing list of strange places we’ve had sex. I think this one might earn the number three spot, right below backstage at a concert, wrapped in the curtain.”
Instead of smiling, his happiness falters. “I promise I’m going to find a way to change all this, pretty girl. You deserve so much better than this.”
Before I can respond, his lips come down hard on mine, scorching hot as he spreads my legs open and slips two fingers deep inside me.
“Micha… I…” My head falls back and my body arches into his touch, fervently seeking more of him.
“You feel so good,” he whispers against my mouth. “God dammit, Ella. I miss this way too much.”
“Me… too…” I trail off. I can barely think straight, let alone form coherent words.
His lips suddenly leave mine, and he leans back to watch as his fingers drive me toward the edge. His free hand finds my nipple and softly pinches, causing sheer bliss to coil and rush through my bo
dy. A helpless moan escapes my lips, and his aqua eyes darken to an ocean blue.
“You’re so fucking gorgeous, Ella. I swear to God, I just want to write songs about how you look right now.”
I want to tell him no way, that I don’t want to have the entire world knowing what I look like when I’m about to orgasm, yet I’m too far gone to care. “You can write whatever you want as long as you keep touching me like this.”
His eyes blaze with lust while he continues to feel me from the inside and the out. His mouth lowers to mine again, his tongue urging my lips apart. The scent of him is intoxicating, adding intensity to the moment as my thoughts drift to all the times we’ve spent exactly like this.
I just wish there were more.
So many more.
All my worries swiftly evaporate, though, as something deep inside me shatters. I cry out as I struggle to grasp onto the feeling. Fire. Intensity. Warmth. Heat. I feel it all.
Micha’s mouth is abruptly leaving mine along with his body, and instantly, my body is submersed in coldness. I’m about to beg him to come back to me, but then he grips my thighs and raises my hips as he leans back over me.
With one swift rock, he thrusts deep. The sensation is so intense I forget to breathe and have to fight to remain conscious. My muscles are wound tight, eager to let go. Every part of me pleads to be filled completely as his hips grind against mine, and my back bangs against the piano. The keys noisily chime over our panting, and the sound echoes around us. I’d be worried someone will hear it and come onto the stage to see what’s happening, but I’m way too lost in the feel of Micha on me, inside me, engulfing me.
My fingers pierce his shoulder blades, desperate to clutch on for just a little bit longer, desperate to have just a bit more time with him. But, within a few short minutes, I come way too soon, crying out over the sound of the piano.
Micha soon joins me, kissing me all the way to the end while he gives a final rock inside me. I arch my back at the last second so he can sink even deeper inside, moaning at the pulsating sensation. Micha must love the feeling, too, because he lets out the loudest, slowest, most savoring groan I’ve ever heard leave his lips.
“That was…” He gasps for oxygen as he stares intently into my eyes.
“Fucking awesome,” I finish for him, pressing my sweaty chest to his, not ready for him to leave me just yet.
The corners of his lips quirk. “Stole the words right out of my mouth, pretty girl.”
I smile, tired yet content. “I just wish I didn’t have to fly out tonight.”
His expression plummets, and he jerks back. “I thought you were staying with me for the weekend?”
“I was, but then the gallery decided to have a last minute show, and I don’t want Gena there by herself, trying to handle everything.” I reach up and try to brush away the lines between his brows, but my touch only deepens the sadness etching his face. “I thought I mentioned it on the phone the other day.”
“You might have.” He backs away from me and collects his boxers from the floor. “I’ve been really distracted lately and might not have heard you or something.”
He slips his boxers and jeans back on while I pick up my pants and shirt from the floor. We finish getting dressed in silence, the elation I felt when I landed earlier slipping farther and farther away.
“I’m going to fix this,” he mumbles as I’m buttoning my shirt.
“Fix what?” When I glance up at him, the fierceness in his eyes causes me to shrink back.
“This distance between us.” He yanks his shirt over his head and gestures between us. “Things are going to change. I promise.” He pauses, and then his lips curve to a smile. “In fact, I want to make a pact. Right here. Right now.”
“Aren’t we a little too old for pacts?” I ask as I wiggle my foot into my boot.
He shakes his head. “We’ll never be too old for pacts. Ever.”
A faint smile graces my lips as I tie my boot. “So what’s the pact going to be this time, my dear husband?” I ask as I stand back upright.
His eyes raise to the ceiling as he considers something, then his gaze falls back on me. He raises his hand to his mouth and spits into his palm. “In two months, I won’t be on the road anymore. I’ll be working my job in San Diego only and be living with you all the damn time, like I dream about every night. Infinitely and always.”
“Two months? That seems like a really short time to make that plan happen.”
“Yeah, but I can’t stand it any longer. Two months is my time limit before I go crazy.” He extends his hand to me, waiting for me to spit and shake on it.
Even though I’m skeptical, I spit into my palm and thread my fingers through his. “Okay, Micha Scott, you have a deal.”
His eyes light up like they used to every Fourth of July when his mom would set off fireworks. “See you in two months?”
I nod, my grip on his hand tightening. “See you in two months.” I lean in and press my lips to his, sealing the deal with a kiss.
Two Months Later…
My bed in my San Diego home feels cold and empty. It’s felt this way for a while but has gotten worse over the last two months while Micha’s been on the road, finishing up his tour. It’s as if my body suddenly craves more of him, like it finally realizes just how starved it’s been for Micha’s touch and warmth.
For the first few years, I used to travel with him. Some of my best moments happened during those trips, and I created some of my best art. But, after opening up my own gallery, I had to sit the last few tours out to keep on top of business. And, quite honestly, I like my life. But I can’t wait until tonight when the bed will be warm again. Because, Micha plays his final tour performance in San Diego tonight, and then he’s home to keep the bed warm with me again.
I’m not sure how long he’ll be here this time. He hasn’t mentioned anything yet about whether or not he will be able to pull the pact off. I highly doubt it. When he made the vow to both of us back on the stage, I knew his words were based on his emotions and not reality. The reality is that he’s a singer. That he loves making music. Loves what he does, despite missing me. What’s more, in order to keep doing what he loves, he has to make his label and producer happy, which means conforming when he needs to. I only hope one day down the road things can change for him.
I sigh as I think of the many years ahead of me where the bed will remain cold and empty. Where crazy fans will pull my hair and threaten me. Where I miss him so much it hurts.
My thoughts start sinking to a dark place, but I instantly force them out of my head. No, I’m not going to fixate on depressing stuff today. Just one more day is all I have to make it through before I get to wake up with Micha, one of my favorite things about being married. Well, that and the kissing. Secret sharing. Unconditional love.
Okay, maybe there are a lot of things I love about being married.
That and Micha has kind of turned me into a sap over the last five years.
My plans for the day are to sleep in as late as possible to pass the time until I have to head down to The Bronze Key to watch Micha play. But, as the sun rises over the city, my phone begins vibrating from my nightstand, forcing me to wake up.
I sit up in the bed and reach for my phone. “Hello?” I answer, rubbing the sleepiness from my eyes.
“What are you doing?” My friend, Lila Summers, practically shouts from the other end. I know her well enough to understand that the urgency in her tone could be exaggerated.
“Not much.” I glance at the antique clock on the wall as I stretch my hands above my head. Dammit. It’s only a little after nine in the morning. I wanted to sleep in so much later. “But what are you doing calling me so early?”
“Because I have an emergency.”
My body goes as rigid as a board while worry seeps into my bones. “Is everything okay? You sound like you’re flipping out.”
“That’s because I am.”
She lets out a disgruntled sigh. “Ethan’s been acting weird lately.”
Shaking my head, I instantly relax. “Lila, he always acts weird.”
“Ella,” she huffs, “this is important. He’s acting like… well, like he’s going to break up with me.”
“I highly doubt that.”
“How? How can you not doubt it when I can?”
“Um, because he’s totally in love with you.” I swing my feet out of bed and plant them firmly onto the hardwood floor. “Has been for years.”
“Yeah, but…” She trails off. I know where her mind is heading. The fact that they aren’t married after five years of being together bothers the crap out of Lila. “I just wish we were husband and wife. It would make the fear of him leaving me a lot less intense.”
“Husbands leave wives all the time. Having a ring on your finger doesn’t make feelings change. If he was going to leave you, he would, regardless. It’s the same way with anyone, really.” I rise to my feet and pad over to the curtains, throwing them open.
The floor to ceiling windows allow an abundance of sunshine inside my bedroom and give me the most awesome view of the city. I remember when Micha and I bought the two-story home after his songs really started selling. It was the view that won me over. For Micha, it was the large, “sex-worthy” bathtub in the master bathroom.
“Jeez, Ella, you never sugarcoat anything,” Lila says with a heavy sigh.
“Sorry. My head just went to a really weird place.” I push open the double doors and walk out onto the balcony.
The winter air kisses my damp skin as I rest my arms on the railing and gaze at the clear blue sky. I’m not sure why, but I’ve been overheating lately, especially in the mornings. While most people are in jackets, I usually sport shorts and get a lot of strange looks because of it. It’s actually starting to concern me a little that maybe something might be wrong.
“A mom place?” Lila asks concernedly, interrupting my overheating concerns.
“No, not really. It’s strange, but mom thoughts have been pretty mellow for the last year or so, even around the holidays and summer.”