Stella

“You look excited to be back.” Ira’s dry amusement cuts through by troubled thoughts. My gaze moves from the window of my office to the man standing in the doorway. As impeccable as ever, Ira lifts a brow.

“That bad?” he adds when I don’t deny it.

Monday, first day back at work and I’m already feeling edgy and unsettled. Like I left the stove on, or I forgot to turn the faucet off. It all seems wrong. I finally get what Tina was trying to explain.

I don’t belong here anymore. Somehow in the time I’ve been growing attached to the new people in my life, I’ve outgrown this place.

On the tarmac, as we were getting ready to take off, I looked out the small oval window, and it hit me. I was going to miss Oklahoma with its friendly people, big smiles, and clouds as far as the eye could see. It had gotten into my pores and somehow changed me, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to go back to being the way I was.

“I don’t know what I’m doing anymore.”

Ira walks in and takes a seat opposite me. “I’ll tell you what my father told me a million years ago when I broke up with Esther because I wasn’t done having fun––grass is greener on the other side and all that bullshit. He said…” Ira coughs and clears his throat, eyes suspiciously damp. “Don’t be seduced by the future, she doesn’t exist. Otherwise you’ll miss out on what’s in front of you. You’ll miss out on the best things in life.”

Ira looks off, out the window at the city skyline, and I know he’s thinking of his son, of all the years he wasted working too hard and spending too little time with his family.

“That’s beautiful, but I don’t see how that pertains to me.”

His attention pivots back to me. He blinks and gives me a cynical smile.

“Stel––” he says with an expression that says I must be an idiot. “Stop trying to anticipate disaster and start living.”

* * *

The doorbell rings repeatedly. I abruptly sit up in bed and check my phone. It reads a little past midnight. There’s no guessing who it could be at this hour.

A cold October storm rages outside. The pouring rain is a drumbeat against my windows, a dramatic soundtrack for the drama about to unfold inside.

As the doorbell continues to ring, I get out of bed and slip on a hoodie, open the front door to find Dane standing there soaking wet and shivering.

His long-sleeve t-shirt clings to every cut muscle of his chest and abdomen, nipples tight. The weight of the water dragging down his jeans exposes the v of his pelvis. Which only serves to make him look like sex on steroids.

He rakes his wet hair back and palms his face, wiping off the water dripping down his nose––expression all grim purpose.

While we stare at each other my neighbor across the hall, an elderly widow I’ve never spoken to, opens her front door and catching sight of the dripping wet giant, immediately slams it shut.

“I don’t give a fuck that it’s complicated.”

“You’re scaring the neighbors.”

“I don’t fucking think it’s for the best,” he continues as if he didn’t hear me. “I don’t give a fuck about your neighbors. I don’t give a fuck about any of it––the only person whose opinion matters to me is yours.”

His attention falls from my eyes to my lips and a slow heat kindles bellow my waist.

I give up. I give up trying to rationalize it. I give in to whatever this is. Burning need to touch him? Yes. Craving to have him inside me? Definitely. Consequences be damned. And there will be consequences. There’s no doubt about that. I can’t seem to stop wanting him though. It’s time to wave the white flag in surrender. Like Ira said, start living without anticipating the worst. I don’t want to miss out on what’s standing in front of me anymore.

“I want you,” he plainly states, his voice a drawn-out, slow rumble. “I want––”

“Are you going to stand there soaking the hallway carpet, or are you going to come inside and kiss me?” I say, cutting him off.

The next instant he’s on me, big hands gripping my face, firm lips devouring mine. The front of my sweatshirt and pajamas get wet and a shiver rocks my body.

Dane picks me up, steps inside, and kicks the door shut in one effortlessly smooth motion. After that, we’re a tangle of limbs moving across the darkened apartment.

I wrap my legs around his waist. My hands clutch his neck. His hands span my ass, kneading and pressing me against a hard-on that could hammer nails. Even in cold, wet jeans, he’s fully erect.

I don’t want to know if this is only sex for him. I don’t want to know if he’s not interested in more. I don’t want to know anything that will have me second-guessing being with him tonight.

“God––” Kiss. “I––” Kiss. “Missed you,” he murmurs against my lips while he blindly carries me to the bedroom. We bump into the wall, slam against the doorframe.

“It’s been three days.” I giggle in between kisses.

“You judging me, Shorty?”

Pulling back, I hold his face and admire the sweet smirk he’s wearing, his lively eyes flashing.

“No,” I answer with a headshake. “I missed you just as much.”

Grappling with the hood, he yanks it back and pulls my sweatshirt off.

“Doubt it,” he tells me. He grinds his hard-on against me and I just about swoon. “I’ve been walking around like this for three months, three damn months, woman––I missed you more.”

Woman? I don’t know which deserves a raised eyebrow more––woman or three months? It must be hyperbole. It must be. He couldn’t possibly be saying what I think he’s saying.

He nips my bottom lip and I slant my mouth, giving him what he wants. His skilled hands slip under my shirt, brush back and forth over my breasts, toying with my nipples, and all else is lost, swept away by the clamoring of my body’s needs.

After that, there’s little talking. His warm hands push my wet pajama top off as we gracelessly stumble around my bedroom. I try to lift his wet shirt but it’s impossible, so he drops me on the bed and does the job himself.

“Do you trust me?” There’s a quaver in his voice, a chink in his confidence.

In that moment I wholeheartedly know I trust him. With my heart, with my body…with my child. I trust him without reserve.

“I haven’t been with anyone since I met you. You know I’ve been tested.”

He was tested as a part of the IVF procedure. That’s not what’s running through my mind however. Being clean is one thing, being celibate another. And with his sexual appetite, I feel the need to clarify. I get up on my elbows for a better view of his face.

“You haven’t slept with anyone since we met. That’s what you’re saying.”

“That’s not exactly right,” he says with a furrow of his brow.

Those three little words shove my hopes and desires down eight flights of stairs. Spoiler alert: they did not stick the landing.

I’m crushed. I don’t know why I held out hope that he hadn’t had sex with anyone else. He’s a grown man with needs. Completely normal needs. Still, the immature, possessive part of me is crushed.

“What I meant to say was…that I haven’t looked at––” He bends over me, hands planted on either side of my prone body. “I haven’t considered––” He shifts, crawling up on his knees. “I haven’t dated, or wanted to date any woman since the moment you and your ugly glasses walked into my life, Shorty.” His lips hovering over mine, he smiles broadly. I run my fingers through his hair and stroke his face, over the two days’ worth of scruff. “And no, I haven’t had sex with anyone either.”

And just like that, I fall.

This man…with the perpetual twinkle in his eyes and knowing smile. With his ability to make me smile when I least expect it. He’s a goose-down comforter on a cold rainy day, a tequila sunset, puppy kisses, and a fat bank account. He’s found his way onto a short list of my favorite things.

I reach down to remove his jeans and he pushes my hands away. In a hurry he stands, unbuttons half and wrestles the rest off. I almost laugh at how desperate he is to be rid of them.

His erection springs up and salutes me, ready for action once liberated. And it is a sight. I could devote an entire evening to staring at it. He’s built to scale. Thick and long, it almost reaches his belly, the dark-blond hair around it neat.

While I unabashedly stare, he kicks the jeans halfway across the room. “You stare any harder, baby, and the party will be over before it starts.”

Hooking his fingers over the top of my pajama bottoms and underwear, they’re discarded at once.

“I need to say something,” I half shout.

His lips quiver in amusement.

“Don’t take it personally if I can’t uh…come. Sometimes it’s hard for me. Not always but sometimes. When I’m…it’s been a while. With another person, I mean.”

“I hear you, baby.” More quivering of his lips. “I won’t take it personally.” I’m pretty sure it’s followed by a low chuckle.

While I push myself up the bed, Dane crawls over me.

“And don’t be nervous. I intend to worship you––”

“Dane…”

“Nope. I’ve waited too long for this. I’m gonna say what I wanna say.” His accent keeps getting thicker with every word spoken.

He kisses my nipple, draws it into his mouth and tugs with his lips and teeth, the pleasure so acute I just about explode right then and there.

“Worship every inch of skin…every part of you,” he mumbles. His hands roam over my breasts, my belly, between my legs. He strokes and pets until they fall open in silent gratitude.

“I’m gonna make you feel so good you won’t wanna get outta bed for a week,” he mutters against my hip bone, on his way south.

He kisses me between my legs, spreads me open, working me with his tongue and his hands. My body arching at the quickly building tension, aching for more. My fingers dig into his forearms while he keeps my legs pinned apart. One more hot stroke of his tongue and I go off like a Catherine wheel.

“Goddamn you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” His voice is rough, eyelids heavy with lust.

Before I can come down from the stars, he grabs my thighs and pulls me to him, positioning himself between my legs. Up on his hands, looming over me, he grabs his shaft and rubs it back and forth against me. Then staring into my eyes he sinks in. For a moment I have doubts whether this will feel as good to me as it will to him. Only for a moment though. As soon as my body starts to give, the feel of him has me panting for more. I’m seconds from screaming for him to move.

One flex of his hips and my brain shuts down. After which I’m just a bundle of senses, registering the hardness and the heat, the thick slide, the drag of pleasure, the thrilling and maddening promise of more.

In small increments he rocks in deeper, until our hip bones touch. He’s gentle, controlled, his face tight from the effort he’s exerting to be careful. Except I don’t want gentle and controlled. I want leather belts and rugged fun. I want what he promises me every time we touch, every time he looks at me like he wants to tackle me to the ground and rip my clothes off. What happened to that guy?

I thrust my hips to meet his, but he pins me down with the smallest of effort. Then he kisses me, lowers himself onto his elbows, and kisses me tenderly. Lips on lips, his body blanketing mine, he pumps his hips slowly, every stroke measured and deliberate.

“I’m not made of glass.”

He stops moving and meets me eye to eye.

“But the b––”

I place a hand over his mouth, stopping him just in time. “Don’t say it.” His half-moon eyes crinkle at the sides. Under my palm, I feel him smiling. Then his tongue darts out and licks between my fingers. Laughing, I lift my hand away and caress the face of the man I love.

“It’s just you and me here. No one else. Give me everything you’ve got, and you better make it good, Dane…don’t hold back.”

That’s all the permission he needs. Gone is the tender lover, the doubt, the hesitation. He hooks an arm under my bent knee and sinks even deeper. His hips thrust hard and steady, with conviction and skill. Sweat drips down his chest, in between the clefts of his six-pack.

He leans closer. “I knew you’d feel like this,” he whispers. “So good…you’re perfect.” Rocking in hard shallow strokes, he grinds into me, igniting an orgasm so powerful it almost makes me cry. I come in rippling waves. And come and come and come. Drowning in pleasure, soul-singing pleasure that goes on and on and on.

Before I can recover, he flips us over. I’m straddling his hips, looking down at him as he grips my ass and squeezes. I can barely hold up my head I’m so sapped of energy. The fog of euphoria clears and I’m suddenly conscious of what I must look like hanging over him.

Dane lifts my chin to meet his intense gaze, intense and loving, so loving it feeds my courage. “You’re so beautiful, baby. You have no idea how beautiful you look ridin’ me.”

Even in bed he’s chatty. I can’t help but snicker.

“You laughin’ at me? ’Cause I have somethin’ to shut that pretty mouth up.”

Grinning wickedly, he lifts his hips off the bed and I fall forward, onto his chest and into his arms. A moment later, talking turns to kissing.

One swift jack of his pelvis and he fills me. I won’t deny it. It’s a rush having so much power and force beneath me, ready to do my bidding. His fingers span and press into my hips possessively, moving me exactly how he wants me. And I let him. I let him because he’s so willing to give me everything I need. Abandon, respite from doubt, pleasure, calf-cramping, toe-curling pleasure the likes of which I’ve never experienced before.

His hips pick up speed. My hands positioned for leverage. One on the pillow, the other braced against the headboard lest he sends me flying into it. A few hard thrusts are all it takes for me to come again. His name on my lips and in my heart. His pelvis bucks hard enough to lift us both off the bed. Swearing loudly, he comes too.

Exhausted. Boneless. My head rests on his rising and falling chest. As I listen to his big heart thundering near my ear, I know I’m a goner. One night is not going to be enough. Not when the history of sex has been rewritten. Because if there is one thing I know for certain, it’s that nothing and no one will ever compare.