Today might go down in history as the most horrible afternoon that I have ever experienced in my life.
A modest collection of souls have gathered here today to pay their respects to one of the kindest women I ever had the privilege to meet in my life. At only eighteen, it’s not like I’ve had a lot of chances to get out and experience the world or all that it has to offer. I’m supposed to be leaving for my gap year in Italy in only two days. At least I was. How can I leave now? I know that the trip is like a pilgrimage for those in my family, but it doesn’t feel right to leave.
Most people who knew about the death would simply think that our family was just doing our duty by helping bury one of our housekeepers, but she was so much more than that. She’d been with us for Maeve’s entire life. She was one of us, in her own way. Maeve is family. She always will be. No matter how things go after today. If she chooses to go off into the world on her own, if she takes up mother’s offer to have her live with us until she graduates, whatever choice she makes, we will support it. Mother had long ago agreed to become Maeve’s legal guardian should anything happen to her.
I hope that she stays.
It’s selfish, I know… but I do not know what I would do without her.
Slowly, the polished black coffin starts to lower into the ground. I can’t watch it. My eyes are trained on the woman across from me. Maeve cried and screamed herself hoarse last night. Ada was a zombie this morning at breakfast. She couldn’t eat because of how traumatized Maeve was. I don’t suspect that she will be better any time soon. She and her mother were impossibly close. Both her and my sister’s eyes are still reddened and puffy, but Maeve looks like a shell of the girl that I’ve been obsessed with for as long as I can remember.
Her red hair is tied up in a messy bun at the back of her head, little whisps of color floating around her face and sticking to the lip gloss that my mother had put on her to attempt to heal some of the cracks in her lips.
I’ve never seen Maeve in black before.
It doesn’t suit her.
I don’t ever want her to be forced to wear black out of sadness again. Right now, I would do anything, pay anything, give anything up if it meant she’d stop feeling this pain. If I could take it from her, I would.
There’s a small thunk when the coffin hits the bottom of the grave. The wheels on the pulley system creak and squeal. Maeve doesn’t so much as flinch. It’s a wonder that she’s even still standing.
“Does anybody wish to say a kind word?”
The people gathered around us look slowly from one to another. Maeve won’t feel the need to share her private memories of her mother with everybody here, she won’t want to talk at all. I hope for a moment that Ada might say something, anything to calm her friend. Maeve made it perfectly clear that she didn’t want to hear from me.
The way I see it, if she needs somebody to take the rage of her mother’s untimely death out on somebody, I’m happy to be that person to her. If she needs a target, I’m her man.
Better anger than the alternative. I can’t let her wallow in despair. I cannot imagine the devastation she is experiencing at this moment. At sixteen, the one and only real family she has ever known, abruptly taken from her.
My fingers ball into a fist at my side.
Maeve’s bloodshot eyes lift to mine.
Nothing changes in her expression, and she doesn’t say a single word but I know the intention. I understand. There’s nothing to say. There’s not a single word anyone could say to make this easier. Any story told about her mother would just be an empty collection of words, nothing could be as vibrant as the woman herself.
All I can do is be here for her, however she needs me.
I walk to the edge of the grave and bend to pick up a handful of dirt. I sprinkle it softly over the coffin, sending her all of my well wishes and hopeful intentions into the afterlife. As I step back into the place I had just left, another of the staff steps forward to repeat the gesture. One at a time, until everyone has paid their silent respects but Maeve herself.
It almost looks like she’s debating whether or not she should just throw herself in the hole with her mother’s body. I can almost see the idea cross her mind as Ada steps to her side and pushes her fingers through Maeve’s.
I hope she knows that she has a family still. Whether she wants us or not. She deserves a family, and she still has people who love her very much. In every capacity that she will let us.
The knot of pain in my chest loosens as she allows Ada to pull her away from the gravesite and starts to turn back toward the long procession of cars. The two best friends tuck closely into one another as I trail silently behind them. At least she knows I will always have their backs.
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It took a great deal of effort to keep from choosing an outfit for Maeve tonight. She’s always been interested in fashion, so above all, I want her to look good when she presents herself as my fiancée. I want the real her to be seen by all, on my arm. I don’t think I had realized how thrilled I would be about the engagement party.
For myself, I chose typical black. Three-piece suit and gold accessories. It’s classic and guaranteed to match anything that she chooses to wear for the evening. If this deal that we’ve made is the closest I’m ever going to get to properly being with her, I’m going to capitalize on each and every moment of it. Tonight, I might just let myself pretend that it is all real.
I head into the ensuite bathroom where she’s getting ready and stop dead in my tracks at the sight of her reflection in the mirror. She’s just putting on the final touches to her makeup but that dress is positively sinful. If tonight wasn’t so important for our image, I would just bend her right over that vanity table until she could no longer stand.
Well, I suppose that there’s no harm in showing up fashionably late to our own event. We can do whatever we want… I just need a taste. Just a little one.
I cross the bathroom to where she’s watching me like a hawk, my knuckles running down the impossibly soft bare skin of her back. I had suggested black for the evening only because I wanted to present a unified front, and she listened. I hadn’t thought that she would give in to my request. It pleases me more than I can verbally express. Even the gold pin pinning her hair back matches. We look like a proper couple and a damned attractive one at that.
My knuckles trace down the curve of her exposed spine, stopping only when they brush over the hem of the skirt just below the curve of her back. The front isn’t nearly as daring, but the thin straps are tied behind her neck, exposing a modest amount of cleavage. Very tempting to undo the strings and bare her for me.
“I like this,” I compliment as my hand flattens and turns over the exposed skin, and then back up until I can cup the front of her neck possessively. The words feel so much smaller than the way I’m feeling. Hard as a diamond inside my slacks. It’s nearly painful. My thumb brushes over the nipple, the skin tightening under my touch.
“Thank you,” she answers easily. Her shoulders roll back and she sags into my touch. She watches my expression in the mirror as she presses against the hard length. It shouldn’t be that easy for her. Nobody has ever affected me the way that she does. The grip I have on her shifts to her neck, holding her softly in place.
“Careful,” I warn.
Her answering smile is devilish. “Or what?”
Oh, is that how she wants to play? Two can play that game. I think she’s vastly underestimated just how much I love teasing her. I shift and spin her to face me. I step between her legs, the slit in that delicious dress parting further. “You know, I think you’re starting to like the struggle simply for the struggle’s sake.”
She smirks up at me. “And what if I am?”
“Wouldn’t it be easier to simply ask for what you want?” I think that the day she starts to verbalize what she wants is going to be the day I lose all control over myself.
I bend at the waist with a knowing smirk. “Or would you rather I simply started taking what I want from you?”
My fingers move, gripping her jaw firmly but not so tightly that it hurts. Every time she realizes that I have the ability to be much more aggressive with her but choose not to, she seems to get a thrill. I bring my lips down to hers and give her a gentle kiss that contrasts sharply with the possessive way I hold her. Just a taste. A gentle kiss that I nearly deepen because she is my favorite flavor.
Her lips chase after mine, and I chuckle darkly before stepping away from her. “Tsk tsk. I wouldn’t want to smudge your lipstick.”
She bites her bottom lip. I can see the gears in her mind turning. She knows that if she wants more, she’s going to have to ask for it.
“Please,” she mutters, the sound barely a whisper.
My brows raise. Surprised for only half a second before I hold a hand out to help her to my feet. A gesture she happily accepts. I pull her swiftly so that her body collides with mine, her breasts flattening against my chest as my hands find both her ass and the back of her neck at the same moment. She pulls me closer, a needy moan of hunger leaving her lips as she opens for me. Oh how sweet she is. I could get very easily carried away. I’ve always been raised to have total and complete control over whatever room I walk into, but she’s always been my weakness.
She breaks the kiss to place another just above the collar of my shirt. I can see the imprint of her red lipstick staining my skin and it doesn’t occur to me for a single second that I should be bothered by it. I’m hers to claim. I always have been. Her gaze is heavy and lidded as she looks up at me. Something softens in my chest as my thumb runs over her bottom lip. Something between us is shifting.
“Fuck… I didn’t…” She starts.
I shake my head. I think she’s misunderstood my brief hesitation. “Shut up,” I whisper and kiss her again. I walk us back toward the vanity and spin her around fast enough that she slaps her hands down on it to keep from bowing forward. I quickly band an arm around her to keep me upright so that her back is pressed against my chest. I cup her jaw again with the other hand and force her to look at our reflection in the mirror.
“Look at us, Maeve,” I command. The rush of power is intoxicating. Her surrender is so stunning, and she doesn’t even know it. “Do you see a couple who needs to apologize for anything? Because what I see is a woman who wanted something and took it.”
Her gaze drifts to my neck. I nod in confirmation.
“I do not see a woman who doubts herself. Certainly not tonight when everybody is here for her and her alone. Do you understand me?” I kiss her cheek softly, and then her jaw. Does she know I could spend days worshiping her perfect body? “And if this woman doesn’t want to be in control? That’s okay, too. You can let me have control, baby,” I assure her. I relish each and every shudder that ripples through her. Every soft gasp of unexpected sensation. “I will always take good care of what’s mine.”
I mean it.
Tonight, she’s mine.
I want her to feel it. I want to make sure that she knows that nobody else in her life is ever going to make her feel this way. My hand drops from her waist, working up the soft skirt of her dress higher and higher. Slow enough to be tortuous but fast enough that her mind doesn’t bother suggesting that she should protest or that there’s somewhere else that we’re supposed to be. The rest of the world can go to hell for all I care right now.
My fingers brush against her sex, finding it bare from the lack of panties. Dirty minx. I love it. I groan in pleasure against her skin as I cup her. “Such a good girl for me, aren’t you, Maeve? How did you know just what to do to please me?”
“The… panty lines… obvious…” She stammers.
I hum my approval of her responsiveness as I add another finger. Her breathing grows labored. Her eyes start to drift shut to relish in the sensation but the moment that they close, the grip on her jaw tightens and I click my tongue against the roof of my mouth. “None of that now. Good girls watch like they are supposed to. That way, they can get their rewards,” I mutter into her ear.
My thumb finds her clit and she cries out in pleasure. I have to tighten my hold around her to keep her properly upright as her knees buckle for a moment. Fuck, I want to have her. I want every sound from her lips. I can’t take my eyes from her any more than I want her to look away from the beautiful show that she’s putting on just for me. She’s gripping the counter so firmly that if she were strong enough, I’m sure that the marble would fracture in her hands. She’s close. I can feel it from the way she’s clenching around my fingers.
“Will you be a good girl and cum for me?” I challenge.
It seems to be the permission that she needs before her orgasm rushes through her. My fingers slip from her as she sags forward, gasping as the aftershocks of her climax shudder through her. I can’t help but taste her. If I have her here the way that I want her, then she won’t ever leave. I bring my fingers to my mouth, tasting her on my tongue and savoring the sweetness of it.
If I don’t move away from her right this instant, I’m going to lose the precarious hold that I have on my patience. I’m going to claim her. I will have her screaming my name, our party long forgotten. But it’s essential for us to attend.
It’s a damn shame.
“Finish your makeup, baby,” I nod toward the products that are now knocked over and scattered around the vanity. “Don’t worry, I’ll wait right here.”
She grabs a few tissues from the vanity and starts to clean herself up before I protest loudly. Certainly don’t need any of that right now. “No. You will wear your pleasure just like I will.” I take the tissue out of her hands and use it to wipe the lipstick from my face where she kissed me but leave the one on my neck.
Hell, maybe when this is all said and done, I’ll get those perfect lips tattooed right there.
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I try to sit beside her but the jolt wakes her up disoriented and dazed. She slept well. Long enough. She gets up instantly and lets out a sigh, probably thinking it is only her in the room.
But as she turns her face to the left, she sees me and gasps. My expression softens as I meet her gaze but I feel her anger surging. Her brows furrow and she frowns.
She rolls her hands into small fists. Cute.
“How did you get in?!” she hollers, forgetting who I am, and who she is and what I can do.
“This is my house. What do you mean, how did I get in?” I smirk.
“Prick,” I hear her mutter under her breath.
“This is not funny. Invading my privacy like this.” She spits the words at me. Control yourself, Tommaso. Go easy. I try not to give a flying fuck about her attitude. I just blink and my eyes sweep down her legs and back. What a beauty.
“You should be wearing satin or silk,” I breathe. “But even in my t-shirt, you look beautiful.” She suddenly looks taken aback and stretches the fabric away from her body, as if realizing just now that it’s not her size.
I keep standing in front of her, staring intently. The same powerful gaze she has been trying to avoid. She tries to avert her eyes but keeps looking back. She is giving in. After all, I am too fine-looking to ignore. Charismatic, too.
Perhaps, someday she will stop seeing me as a monster.
“You slept for quite a while. Is headache better? The housekeeper mentioned it.” I ask. She looks at her watch. Then stares at me long and hard. Probably wondering if I was here the whole time she was asleep. She starts to squirm under my gaze.
“None of your damn concern,” she spats.
“Yeah, I think it’s better now,” I scoff. My strategy for the remainder of the day is clear, keep a close eye on her. I cannot afford to leave her on her own. She’s volatile. But I can make my charm break through her defenses. At least, that’s what I tell myself.
I smirk, leaning against the wall near the bed. God. I want to grab her and kiss her. Hard. She gets up immediately before I inch any closer to her. But I corner her against the wall, and place my arms on her sides before she has a chance to slip away.
“You know,” I start, “avoiding me won’t make the day go by any faster.”
She shoots me a pointed look. “I have work to do. Real work.”
“Oh right. And you work for me, actually.” I say.
She stops midway. “My phone–” The realization hits her, she does work for me, added to the fact that I still have her phone with me. Laptop too.
“Consider this a break from work. “I whisper. I can feel her warm breath on my nose and lips as I get closer to her. The aroma of her perfume. That same matchless and captivating fragrance that pulled me to her that night at The Odeon.
She meets my gaze for a fleeting second but immediately looks down at the floor. It’s too much to handle. Her proximity.
‘Let me go.’ she whispers ever so lightly, trying to push me away. She stops her hands on my chest and drags them down. Feeling my abs. My muscles.
Kiss her, the voice in my mind yells. She stands motionless, waiting for my next step. I can’t step away. And she knows that too. I can feel my own hunger in the way I am breathing now. And hers too, in the way she is eyeing me.
“Please.” She implores. But it comes out as a soft moan, her eyes becoming murkier and starving. Fuck, Ella. She makes me go hard in a single second.
She raises her lips and squeezes her eyes shut, and in the nanosecond that our lips touch, the nature of the kiss changes, wildfire spreading through my veins from the intimate point of contact, driving me to her. I want to devour her.
Suddenly, her fingers are curling in my hair as I grab her and pin her against the wall, my hands framing her face, holding her to my lips as our tongues thrash against each other.
And I don’t know if it’s the heat of her skin on my hands making everything much more real, but I feel her desire, her hunger, and my own passion. Fuck. I want her. I want her all.
I drag my face from hers, breathing ravenously, my hips still pinning her to the wall, my erection digging into her stomach. I clasp her butt with force and she moans. That sweet, raspy voice.
I take a finger down her breast and circle it around her navel. She squirms, and I can tell that she’s getting wet. I gradually move my hand towards her groin and tap on her clit. Then, pinch it. Her sweet juices ooze out of her pussy and my fingers get wet and sticky with them. Fuck.
I jolt two fingers inside her pussy and she gasps. But I take them out immediately. Then push them back into her with more force. She pants as I start to finger her. She moves with my rhythm as I hit the spot, panting into my mouth as I kiss her.
“More?” I grunt. She nods her head ferociously, and I suddenly remove my fingers.
She gasps and wails in protest. “More!”
I tap her clit then put just one finger inside her this time. She squirms, asking for more but I only give her the tip of my finger.
“Please.” The voice comes out of her like a whine. I love it when she begs, so I put two fingers inside again and rub the insides of her walls with a delicious rhythm. I feel her pussy quivering, ready to come on my hand. AH. She starts panting but I remove myself, leaving her on the edge.
“NO.” She groans and grasps my hand.
“Whoa, easy, naughty girl,” I murmur, pushing her back, and placing my hand on her throat.
“Fuck,” she whispers back, dragging a welcome breath into her lungs. I look at her, eyes blazing. I trace her lower lip with my thumb, pressing a bit too hard.
Then I step back and take her hand, her eyes darker now. “Come with me,” I order, moving towards the bed now. It’s beyond erotic. I want her. In any way I can get her.
I take her t-shirt off slowly, my fingers warm on her cold skin. I love the feel of it.
She stares at the door, and I smile, assuring her that I locked it again. Bending down I whisper softly in her ear, “be a good girl now. And do as I say.” She groans as her body shivers in response.
Removing my jacket, I place it over the t-shirt. I pause, and stare at her for a moment, drinking her in. She is in a red bra from the guest room’s closet, but not wearing any panties. I never got her any. But I’m glad rather than sorry. She is enjoying my ravenous gaze.
“You know, Ella,” I say softly as I trail towards her, undoing my bow tie so it hangs from either side of my neck, then undoing the top three buttons of my shirt. “I was mad at you when I found out it was you who wanted to expose me. And I’ve been wanting to teach you a lesson ever since.” She gulps.
“Now is the time for your overdue lesson.” My eyes narrow down on her groin. My mouth presses into a line, and I slowly lick my upper lip. I want her on me.
“Please,” she begs, and I don’t know what she’s asking for. To stop, or to have me, but it sounds like a moan.
“Do you remember how to safe-word?” I ask.
“Yes.” She is panting. I want her hands on me.
I swallow, then take her hand. Throwing the duvet aside, I sit down, grab a pillow, and place it beside me. I gaze up at her standing beside it and suddenly tug hard on her hand so that she falls across my lap.
“Put your hands behind your back,” I command. I remove my bow tie and use it to bind her wrists so that her hands are tied behind her, resting at the top of her booty.
“Color?” I ask her the safe-word again.
“Green.” She says softly. I can see the eagerness in her eyes.
“Good girl. Are you ready, beautiful?” She closes her eyes. She wants it as much as I do. She wants her punishment.
“Yes,” she whispers. My left hand curls around her waist, and then my palm leaves her hips and lands hard, just above the junction of her thighs. Oh, the sound, the bounce. She yelps for the pain and the surprise.
“Color?” I ask again, to remind her she’s safe.
“Green.” Her answer is the same as before. Pleasure and pain are a powerful mix that is already going to her head, making her pliable in my hands. I spank her again, in exactly the same place. She groans, louder this time.
“I love to hear you, baby girl.” I tease her. Fuck. This feels different than the last time. So erotic, so liberating.
I caress her hips with my bristly hands, and she’s helpless, tied up and pressed into the mattress, at my mercy. I spank her again, slightly to the side, and again, to the other side, then pause as I slowly drag my fingers between her hips. I want to fuck her so much.
I gently trail the two fingers in between her hips again, slightly brushing past her pussy, before continuing to spank her, each stinging smack taking the edge off her need, or fueling it. I don’t know anymore. She surrenders herself to the rhythm of my blows, absorbing each one, savoring each one. Her moans get hiccupy and louder.
“That’s more like it, ragazzina,” I murmur, my voice low and harsh.
I caress her hipline again and trail my fingers deeper towards her wet pussy, and slowly sink them inside her, moving them in a circle, around and around and around, torturing her.
“I know you want it, Ella.” Her body shivers and takes over, and she comes, again and again, convulsing around my fingers. It’s so intense, unexpected, and quick. She goes limp under my touch, probably exhausted from the powerful orgasms.
“So good for me, baby girl,” I murmur appreciatively. I untie her wrists with one hand, keeping my fingers inside her with the other as she lies there panting and spent over me.
“I’m not finished with you yet,” I say and shift without removing my fingers. She’s so sticky. Damn.
I ease her knees onto the floor so that now she’s leaning over the bed. I kneel on the floor behind her and undo my zipper. I slide my fingers out of her with a jolt.
“Open up for me,” I growl, and she complies, spreading her legs wider. I stroke her hip and push my cock in her. Thick and full. Finally.
“This is going to be rough,” I murmur and grabbing her butt, I ease out then strike into her with full force.
“Tommaso!” she cries out. The feeling is exquisite.
“Color?” I remind her. She wants it, I know. She really does. I can tell, but she needs to be verbal about it. I need to hear it coming from her mouth.
“Green!” It’s exasperating how much I need her right now. My cock is hitting her pussy, again and again, feeling it with each sharp thrust. The feeling is mind-blowing. She pushes back to meet me, thrust for thrust.
“Ah, no, Ella!” I suddenly grunt, trying to hold her in place. But I want her too much, and she grinds against me, matching me thrust for thrust. Fuck. No. NO! Not yet! I can feel myself about to explode in her.
“Ella, shit,” I hiss as I come, and the tortured sound sets her off again, spiraling into an orgasm that makes her come and leaves both of us breathless.
Placing my arms around her, I rest my head in the middle of her back, and we lie like this, both kneeling at the bedside, for… what? Seconds? Minutes even, as our breathing calms. All I feel is a soothing, satisfying serenity. I wonder if she feels the same now. It was sex. Great sex.
But I know the look on that face. The doubt, the regret.
I know what she is thinking: she just sold her soul to the devil.
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I flip through the apartment ads in the local paper, and each one is more mundane than the last.
My sigh of frustration is cut short when I spot one that catches my eye. It’s written in a dark pink font, barely readable. I look at the starting line.
“Looking for a flat mate, must enjoy dark humor and tolerate an excessive amount of plants. Inquire within.” It sounds like the setup for a sitcom. Who places an ad like that?
The more I think about it, the more I realize that maybe, just maybe, this is exactly what I need.
The search for a place has been a string of disappointments, each apartment looking exactly like the first one, a monotonous view of beige walls and stained grey carpets. This ad, with its peculiar requirements, of course, stands out.
Against my better judgment, I decide to give it a shot. What do I have to lose? Another weekend spent trudging through uninspiring apartments?
The address on the ad leads me to a charming, slightly run-down building that seems to have weathered the years with a certain grace. It’s the kind of place that whispers secrets from another era, something that instantly reminds me of Bricks and Scones café downtown.
Tentatively, I approach the door marked 32B. My hand hovers for a moment before I knock. The door swings open, revealing a guy with disheveled red hair and a sunny smile plastered to his face.
“Oh, hi there! You must be here about the ad? Reed, come on in please!” he greets me with an enthusiasm that feels almost out of place in this cold city.
Reed. I repeat it in my mind. The name does not suit him at all.
“Yeah, I am here about the ad. I’m Ella,” I reply, my tone a deliberate opposite to his cheerfulness. Reed ushers me inside, and the first thing that strikes me is the overwhelming presence of greenery. He wasn’t kidding about the plants.
The apartment looks like a greenhouse, with every available surface adorned with money plants and succulents of various shapes and sizes. It’s like stepping into a jungle within four walls.
“Welcome to my little green paradise! Have a seat please,” Reed gestures towards a worn-out couch adorned with colorful throw pillows. I arch an eyebrow but sit on the couch, sinking into the softness of the aged cushions.
Reed heads to the kitchen to fetch coffee, leaving me alone to gawk at the interior design of his apartment. The first thing that catches my eye is a wall adorned with an assortment of quirky masks – a display of faces ranging from comedic to downright bizarre.
Beside the masks, a collection of vintage typewriters stands proudly on a long table. It’s like a nod to a bygone era. I imagine Reed, clad in a tweed jacket, typing away on one of these relics, composing quirky tales in his odd apartment.
There is a big bookshelf in a corner, with its top shelf bending under the weight of the books. It has titles that range from conspiracy theories involving time-traveling cats to guides on deciphering the secret language of sock puppets. I can’t help but chuckle at the sheer randomness of this person’s reading choices.
The coffee table hosts an odd assembly of board games too, not the usual ones. “Monopoly: Extreme Makeover Edition” and “Clue: Murder Mystery on Mars” hint at Reed’s inclination for reinventing the classics.
Wow. I don’t think this guy ever gets bored.
As I glance at the walls, I notice an intriguing collection of framed postcards that have weird pictures on them– places from movies and books. I look at the one with the picture of Malfoy Manor from Harry Potter.
Interesting. There are pirates, astronauts, and even a ninja duck wielding a tiny katana. I can’t help but laugh at the absurdity of it all, wondering if Reed stages epic rubber duck battles during his undoubtedly leisurely baths.
Just as I’m looking around stuff, he returns with two mugs of coffee. The rich aroma fills the air as he hands me a yellow mug, a knowing smile playing on his lips.
“Hope you like it strong,” he says, settling into a chair. I take a sip, the warmth of the coffee complementing the curious charm of his apartment.
“So, what’s the story behind all these?” I point to the rubber duck specifically.
He grins, leaning back in his chair. “Ah, that stuff, you might find it funny– they’re just my way of keeping life interesting. Every item here has a story, and I like to think of my apartment as a haven for the unconventional.” I think he doesn’t want to accept he has a hoarding problem.
“So uh, tell me about yourself. Must be thrilling looking for new places, no?” Reed initiates, hands folded in his lap now, as if conducting a formal interview.
I raise my eyebrows. “Thrilling? More like soul-sucking. I just need a place to crash without the whole process making me question my life choices.”
He chuckles, seemingly unoffended by my sarcasm. “Fair enough. What do you do for a living?”
“I work at the public library for now. Surrounded by books all day – it’s as exciting as it sounds,” I deadpan, my eyes scanning the room, trying to find a spot not claimed by the relentless green invasion.
“Books are exciting! What’s your favorite genre?” he asks, his eyes widening with genuine curiosity.
I lean back, arms crossed. “I don’t play favorites. They’re… books. Aren’t they all the same?”
Reed grabs a sticky note and jots down a note, seemingly unbothered by my lack of enthusiasm. “Got it, open-minded about books.” I try to suppress my laugh, almost choking on the coffee.
“Now, how do you feel about my plants?” he asks.
My eyes sweep across the plants surrounding me. “If I have to water them, I’m out.”
He laughs, the loud and funny sound filling the room. “No worries! I’ve got them covered. Now, dark humor—yes or no?”
“Is there any other kind? I don’t think so,” I retort, my gaze meeting his with a hint of challenge.
Reed’s smile widens. “I like your style. We might just get along.” Surprisingly, the conversation flows effortlessly and we do get along.
He asks me all sorts of questions that a child would ask and for once, I don’t feel bored or annoyed. He’s fun, I realize.
“So, Ella,” he says after a while, leaning forward in his chair, “if you could have dinner with any historical figure, who would it be?”
I arch an eyebrow, caught off guard by the question. “Hmm, let’s go with Nikola Tesla. I bet he’d have some shocking stories to share.”
Reed chuckles, seemingly satisfied with my choice. “Good one! Now, what’s your go-to karaoke song? Don’t hold back, I need to know if you’re belting out power ballads or dropping rhymes.”
I smirk, playing along. “Definitely power ballads. ‘Total Eclipse of the Heart’ by Bonnie Tyler. I go all in on those high notes.” This isn’t as bad as I was assuming.
He grins, nodding approvingly. “Solid choice. Now, if you were stranded on a deserted island and could only bring three things, what would they be?” Interesting.
I ponder the hypothetical scenario. “A notebook, cereal, and a hammock.” We both laugh.
His eyes light up at my answer. “So, you like writing, I assume?”
“Love. Journalism. I intend on going for it professionally.”
“Wow.”
“What about you?” I ask. “What do you want to do?”
“Emm… oooh… so many things,” he starts to chew on the inside of his cheek. “I want to be an actor, most of all.” He would be a good one. I smile.
As the discussion shifts towards dreams and aspirations, Reed’s infectious optimism begins to chip away at my grumpiness.
He also shares his passion for creating a community garden, envisioning a vibrant space where people can connect with nature.
Eventually, we decide to continue our conversation at the pub “Rattlers” down the street. Reed says it’s the only place with less weird people in downtown LA. His enthusiasm clashes with my more cynical worldview, creating an odd chemistry.
As we chug on the beer and continue the talking, the quirks of our personalities seem to complement each other.
“So, when can you move in?” he asks, leaning back on his stool as if the decision is already made. I raise an eyebrow.
“That’s it? You’re not going to ask for references or check my credit score?”
Reed chuckles. “Nah, all that paperwork is overrated. I’ve got a good feeling about you, and the place could use a dose of your sarcasm. Me too, in fact.” I roll my eyes, but a genuine smile tugs at the corners of my lips.
Maybe this strange, plant-filled jungle could be home after all.
Tommaso continues to drive the Audi past single-story, well-kept houses where kids are playing basketball in their yards or cycle and are running around in the street.
He told me that he had gotten a new house and wanted us to visit it before we went to our dinner date at Spago. I am excited since every one of his houses is a masterpiece in itself. It all looks wealthy and wholesome, with the houses nestling among the trees.
A few minutes later, he turns sharply left, and we’re confronted by two ornate white metal gates set in a six-foot-high sandstone wall. He presses a button on his door handle, and the electric window hums quietly down into the doorframe.
He punches a number into the keypad, and the gates swing open in welcome. He glances at me, and his expression has changed. He looks uncertain, even nervous.
“What is it?” I ask, and I can’t mask the concern in my voice.
“I don’t know if you’ll like it,” he says quietly and eases the Audi through the gates. Why does that matter? We head up a tree-lined lane just wide enough for two cars.
On one side, the trees ring a densely wooded area, and on the other, there’s a vast area of grassland where a once-cultivated field has been left fallow.
Grass and wildflowers have reclaimed it, creating a rural idyll. A meadow where the late evening breeze softly ripples through the green blades and the evening sun gilds the wildflowers. It’s lovely, utterly tranquil, and suddenly I imagine myself lying in the grass and gazing up at a clear blue summer sky.
Maybe it does matter. The thought is exciting, yet makes me feel homesick for some strange reason. How odd. The lane curves around and opens into a sweeping driveway in front of an impressive Mediterranean-style house of soft pink sandstone. It’s grand.
All the lights are on, each window brightly illuminated in the dusk. There’s a smart black BMW parked in front of the four-car garage, but Tommaso pulls up outside the grand doorway.
I wonder who must have lived here. Tommaso glances anxiously at me as he switches off the car engine.
“Will you keep an open mind?” he asks. I frown.
“Tommaso, I’ve had an open mind since the day I met you.”
He smiles ironically and nods. “Fair point well made, Miss Hart. Let’s go.” We find ourselves in a large entrance hall.
The walls are a faded primrose yellow with scuff marks where pictures must once have hung. All that remains are the old-fashioned crystal light fixtures. The floors are dull hardwood. There are closed doors on either side of us, but Tommaso gives me no time to observe.
“Come,” he says, and taking my hand, he leads me through the archway in front of us into a larger inner lobby.
It’s dominated by a curved, sweeping staircase with an intricate iron railing, but still he doesn’t stop. He takes me through to the main living area, which is empty save for a large faded rug—the biggest rug I have ever seen. Oh, and there are four crystal chandeliers.
But Tommaso’s intention is now clear as we head across the room and outside, through open French doors to a large stone terrace. Below us, there’s half a football field of manicured lawn, but beyond that is the view. Wow.
The panoramic, uninterrupted scene is breathtaking, staggering even. It’s twilight. In the distance lies the Hollywood sign, and farther still on this crystal-clear evening, the setting sun sinks slowly, glowing blood and flame orange, beyond Olympic Park.
Vermilion hues bleed into the blue sky, with opals and aquamarines, and meld with the darker purples of the scant wispy clouds and the land beyond. It is nature at its best, a visual symphony orchestrated in the sky and reflected in the deep, still waters of the sound. I am lost staring, trying to absorb such beauty.
I realize I’m holding my breath in awe while Tommaso still holds my hand. As I reluctantly turn my eyes away from the view, he’s gazing anxiously at me.
“You brought me here to admire the view?” I whisper. He nods, his expression serious.
“It’s staggering. Thank you.” I say, letting my eyes feast on it once more. He releases my hand.
“How would you like to look at it for the rest of your life, maybe?” he breathes. What? I whip my face back to his, startled blue eyes to pensive gray. My mouth drops open, and I gape at him blankly.
“I want to buy it, demolish it, and build a new house, for us maybe…” he falters, and his eyes glow, translucent with his hopes and dreams. What is he trying to do?
***
We are in front of the restaurant door, and a wave of memories floods over me. I’m back at the place where we both could have died. It’s a test of resilience for the two of us, but there’s something different in the air tonight.
The atmosphere is warmer, more comforting. As Tommaso holds the door open, I can’t help but appreciate the effort he’s put into choosing a spot where we can rewrite the narrative of this place. We settle at a cozy table near the window, bathed in the soft glow of candlelight.
Tommaso, ever the gentleman, pulls out the chair for me, and we sit, menus in hand. But my mind is split between the choices on the menu and the lingering thoughts of our last visit. It all comes rushing to me suddenly and I shudder. Tommaso notices the distant look in my eyes and reaches across the table, his hand covering mine.
“Are you alright?” His eyes search mine for any signs of discomfort.
I force a smile, nodding. “I’m fine. Just a little reminded of our last time here, you know?”
He squeezes my hand reassuringly. “It’s all right. Tonight is about making new memories, not dwelling on the past.” I smile at him, and we turn our attention to the menu. The evening unfolds with delightful conversation, laughter, and the clinking of glasses.
The restaurant transforms into a haven of joy, erasing the shadows of what had happened here. I feel at ease. As we enjoy our dinner, Tommaso starts steering the conversation somewhere else, asking questions about my thoughts on marriage. I decide to play along, be a little elusive, pretending not to know what he means.
“Have you ever thought about getting married?” he asks, his eyes locking with mine.
I chuckle nervously, swirling the wine in my glass. “It’s is a big step. It’s not something I’ve given a lot of thought to, to be honest. I believe in taking things one step at a time.”
He nods, seemingly satisfied with my response. “Fair enough. But hypothetically, if you had to get married, have you ever considered who you might marry? If I were to lose our bet, I mean.” What? I try not to choke on my salad.
I raise an eyebrow. “Oh, that’s a tricky one. I mean, there are so many possibilities. I guess it would depend on a lot of factors.”
Tommaso keeps a straight face. “Factors like what?” Is he really that serious?
“Compatibility, respect, a good sense of humor, perhaps,” I list, savoring the moment of keeping him guessing.
He leans back, studying me with a twinkle in his eye. “Interesting. And what if you had to choose someone right now, at this very moment?”
I let out a mock sigh, my expression dreamy. “Oh, that’s a tough question. I’d need time to think about it.” I start looking at other men on the tables surrounding us.
He laughs, but it’s not real. It’s forced. “Alright.” The evening continues and I lose track of time. Then, Tommaso excuses himself briefly, leaving me anxious.
Where is he going now? Is everything alright? When he returns, he holds a small box in his hand and keeps his eyes on me. My eyes widen with shock as he kneels down beside me, opening the box to reveal a beautiful rubicund diamond ring.
“Ella,” he begins, his voice filled with sincerity and hope, “I tried to suppress my emotions, but I can’t. I love you with all my heart… will you be my wife? Have I won the bet? Have I won your heart?”
Time seems to stand still. I feel like my breath is stuck in my throat. I’m caught off guard, looking into his eyes, searching for any hint of hesitation. But all I find is pure love and loyalty.
This is it. This is what I was waiting for. My heart is about to burst with joy.
“Yes, YES! I will!” I cry.
He slides the ring onto my finger and I can’t help but sob. The whole restaurant seems to hold its breath. Tommaso rises, and our lips meet in a tender kiss. I cannot believe this is happening.
“You really did it, didn’t you?” I manage to say through the happy tears, my voice a mix of disbelief and joy. His eyes sparkle, mirroring the glint of the ring on my finger.
He grins, a hint of nervousness beneath the confident exterior. “I wanted it to be special.”
I chuckle, wiping away a tear. “You made me wait three damn months for this!”
He raises an eyebrow, feigning innocence. “Well, good things take time.” He wipes my tears away gently.
A laugh escapes me, a mixture of happiness and playful mock. “Three months. I knew the answer was ‘yes’ since day one.”
His grin widens. “So, you’re not mad?”
“Mad? Oh, I’m furious,” I tease, a playful glint in my eye. “You kept me waiting, made me wonder if you’d ever pop the question.”
He leans in, his lips brushing against mine. “But you knew, didn’t you?”
A triumphant smile stretches across my face. “Maybe. You are not that good at keeping your feelings a secret, I guess.” We laugh.
Tommaso reaches for my hand, the ring catching the golden lighting. “I wanted it to be a surprise.”
I mockingly pout. “Surprise? You’re lucky I didn’t start a countdown.”
He kisses my hand. “You’re worth the wait.”
I shake my head in mock disapproval. “So are you, Don Tommaso.”
He chuckles, a low, comforting sound. “I’m humbled.”
The waiter approaches, seemingly oblivious to the emotional rollercoaster at our table. “Dessert. Please, enjoy”
I look at Tommaso, my heart full. “You really got me good, you know that?”
He nods, a genuine happiness in his eyes. “We now have a good story to tell our kids.” He looks up, knowing that I am blushing.
Mum was right, everything does fall into place no matter what. And so was Tommaso, it all goes fine in the end. Only I was wrong. All along. Wrong to think that people like him are monsters. That people like him are not made to fall in love. Wrong to think that there is no justice, no hope, no good.
As we hug, surrounded by the warm glow of congratulatory smiles and clinking glasses, I can’t help but feel grateful for the twists of fate that brought me here. It was worth it.
My breath hitched in my chest. There was no way she meant what I thought she meant, right? Not after the day she’d had. But the way she looked up at me, doe-eyed and steady, I could see that she knew what she was asking. That she meant it.
I could feel the lingering tension in her body under my hands, the remains of the fear and uncertainty, and she was asking me to help her get rid of it. She was trusting me with her vulnerability, reaching out to me to make her feel better after the worst night of her life. How could I possibly say no?
“You sure about that, Lauren?” I asked, letting my hands fan out across her back sensually. Immediately, I felt her relax into me. “I’m not gonna turn you down, but I don’t want you regretting it either.” She blinked up at me slowly.
“I’m sure,” she said. “I’m tired, but I need this. I’m so tense. Please, help me?” I smiled softly at her, stepped us into the room, and closed the door behind us. Lauren’s whole body sagged in quiet relief.
“I know you’re tired, baby,” I said, letting my voice dip lower just to feel her shiver. “I’ll take care of you, just do what I say, okay?”
I got a front-row seat to Lauren’s eyes drooping, her face going lax as she nodded up at me. I felt a thrill go through me.
I needed this, too.
So I tilted her head up and devoured her slowly, smacking our lips together time and time again and just relishing in feeling her against me.
I’d spent the last hours marinating in the fear that I’d never be able to hold her again, that the few memories we’d made were the only ones I’d get with her. It made me realize how strong the pull between us was, that whole ‘you never know what you have until it’s gone’ thing kicking in and telling me how powerful our connection could be if I gave it space to grow. That I couldn’t let her slip through my fingers.
Well, she wasn’t. She was right here, in front of me, body real and solid as our chests pressed together. She was here, and I’d been willing to let go of her as long as I could comfort myself with the knowledge she was in the room right next to me, but now that she’d given me the option of keeping her tangibly beside me, I knew how deeply I needed it. So I took it.
She was soft and yielding as I walked her back towards the bed, in no rush. She needed to let go of thought, to just follow commands and let her mind float, and I wanted so deeply to give her what she needed from me. My usual wild and aggressive approach wasn’t appealing—she needed firm guidance given with a gentle touch, and frankly, I needed to give her that. I needed her trust, her faith, her skin, and everything within. I needed to own her; I needed her to want me to own her.
And I needed her safe.
When we finally reached the bed, I was gentle in rolling her back onto it but stood right after, detaching our bodies. She whined, but I had to look at her for a minute. I was so glad I did—she was always beautiful, almost frighteningly so, but framed by the cool moonlight on one side and the warm lamplight on the other, she was ethereal. Her hair was spread behind her, and she was still dressed in her office attire; the only hint of what had happened to her was the bandage standing stark white against the darkening bruising around it. Her cheekbone on that side was bruising too, more lightly, from where she hit the ground.
But her eyes were calm, and her body was lax—every inch of her, top to bottom, laid out for me like a willing supper. My little rabbit, surrendering to my teeth.
But I didn’t want to bite into her today, just hold her so I could feel her there, so I just gave her my first order of the night. “Unbutton your blouse,” I said, voice low and deep, and my eyes followed her dainty little hands as they did as I commanded. The black button-down slowly parted, button by button, and I felt myself salivating at each tantalizing glimpse of her milky skin.
It was ridiculous how desperate she could make me with just an innocent sliver of her breastbone.
“And now my belt,” I husked, and she quickly reached out for me. I was already firmly within her spread legs, standing with my thighs pressed against the tall bed, but she still had to sit up just a little. I didn’t help her, but I did part her now undone blouse. I wanted to see every bit of her, to know for sure that they didn’t touch her anywhere else, didn’t leave any marks on her perfect body. That was my job now and mine alone.
I could tell she was already falling into that fuzzy space, not quite subspace but close to it, because of how much concentration it was taking her to unbuckle my belt. While she did, I smoothed my hands over her stomach, her ribs, and her collarbone and cupped her breasts over her bra. It was a pretty, dark teal color, and I made a note to buy her some clothes in that shade. It looked gorgeous against her skin.
I took my time rolling her tits in my hands, lavishing attention on them that I hadn’t been able to during our first tryst. In fact, as soon as Lauren had my cock free, I pulled her bra down and latched on. I felt her shiver and sigh as I mouthed at her tit, sucking on the side of it a little before wandering to the other and playing my tongue over her nipple. Her head fell back happily.
I grabbed her hips and pulled her bum all the way to the edge of the bed, forcing her legs to spread wider. Her pencil skirt rode higher up until it was bunched and straining around her hips and revealing her cloth-covered mound. She gasped as I slapped my cock against it, the jolt traveling through her body even through her underwear, and she looked at me with dazed and hazy eyes.
I smirked a little, unable to resist playing just a little rough with her as I pinched the underside of her breast between my teeth for a brief moment of exhilarating pain. She let a small moan slip through, her eyes sliding closed again like all she wanted was to focus on the sensations. I was glad we’d sexted almost every night; it told me more about what she liked than I had known during our first encounter, and I was fully planning to put all of that knowledge to use tonight.
I held my cock in one hand, the other holding Lauren’s hip as I rubbed it over her. The heat of her wasn’t as intense through the panties, but the tease was divine. I loved thrusting between her pussy lips, the bottom of my cock scraping against her clit, and part of me wanted to rip the panties off to do just that. The other part of me whispered that something about this felt so hot, almost taboo in a childish sort of way. She seemed to like it very much too, so I wasn’t about to stop.
Lauren was letting out a constant stream of breaths and sighs that guided me. I moved my mouth to her neck, and she tilted her head back for unlimited access. Such a good girl. I wanted to reward her, and the fabric of her underwear was beginning to chafe on my cock just the tiniest bit.
Usually, I’d rip the panties off or push them to the side, but tonight, I calmly slipped my hands up Lauren’s skirt to her hips and pulled the panties down, slowly and gently, building anticipation in us both. I slid them down, marveling at the fact that her pussy already glistened with a little bit of arousal.
She looked delectable underneath me, exposed but not undressed, and the little shudder in her breath when I slid my fingers through her slit was unbearably erotic.
“No,” I commanded, firm but soft, as she started to move her hips in lazy little circles. Immediately, they fell back to the bed. “I know what you need, and you’re going to let me take care of you. Understand?”
“Yes, sir,” Lauren sighed.
I couldn’t deny how hard my cock jumped hearing her address me like that without being asked, without even knowing I wanted her to. It hadn’t come up in our sexting, mainly because we were focusing on her rape kink, and who calls their rapist ‘sir’ in the middle of the act? Well, I supposed I could make her, but… I pushed that to the back burner to look at later. I didn’t want to think about that kink just then, too shaken from the last hours and the reality of her potential death—or worse—to imagine treating her like that.
No, I was doing exactly what I wanted to do, mapping every curve with my palms and my mouth and committing it all to memory, lavishing her with all the care she needed and deserved as I slowly worked her up with two fingers on the hood of her clit. She was such a good girl, lying inactive just like I’d told her. She took orders so beautifully.
I coaxed her clit fully out from its hood before sinking two fingers into her. She was just as soft and hot inside as I remembered her being around my cock, but this was the first time I felt it around my fingers. She was so relaxed, so wet, that they slid in with almost unnatural ease. Lauren hummed, eyes closed. That’s it, I thought, focus on the sensations I’m giving you. Feel them to the fullest.
Neither of us broke the hush, even when I pulled my fingers from her pulsing cunt and reached for the wallet in my back pocket. I didn’t usually keep condoms there, knowing they didn’t last long with all that friction, but after last time, I decided to take the precaution and just change the condom out every week. I opened it up and—
“Wait,” Lauren breathed. I paused and looked at her questioningly. “I want to feel you fill me up.”
I gulped, forcing down the surge of animal hunger in my gut. Not tonight.
“Are you sure?” I asked. I wasn’t about to deny her—nothing was hotter than fucking a woman knowing you could breed her—but I wanted to be sure she was making the decision in her right mind. Our tests had both come back clean, and she was on birth control and I’d get her Plan B again, but there was still the tiniest risk, however miniscule.
She just held my eyes and nodded, and I threw the opened condom to the side.
I ran the head of my cock through her wetness a few times, making sure to roll it over her clit, before grasping myself and pushing in. I slid into her so quickly, like she was made for me, and in one long, slow stroke, I bottomed out. I sighed, and she smiled as her eyes fluttered closed again. She really was something else.
I kept it slow, languid, as I worked for that angle that would make her shake and clench around me, savoring the feel of her everywhere we touched. There was no denying that she was here as long as I was inside her, and if she was here, then she was safe. I felt her pussy pull me in each time I pulled out, sucking me back in and clinging to me when I thrust deeper again. That’s right, hold on to me. Good girl.
As the tension in my stomach grew, I let my speed increase, leaning down over her and wrapping my arms around her as I mouthed at her neck. Her own hands came up to rest against my shoulder blades, and it anchored me more than I thought it could. I was still fully dressed, aside from having my cock out, but even through my shirt, the pressure of her physically against me calmed some irrationally worried side of me. I liked it so much.
Her breaths became louder, as did mine, and soon, we were both panting into the quiet night. The only sounds were our breathing, the occasional almost moan, and the sound of our bodies connecting wetly. Faster, faster. Deeper, but not harder. Her form was wracked with shivers, and I held her against me as I finally drove her into a G-spot orgasm.
For a second, she stopped breathing entirely, her cunt clenching down on me so hard I almost couldn’t move, but just a few short, jerking thrusts later, I was spilling into her with a low groan. Her whole body relaxed, like feeling my cum warming up her insides was just what she needed to cut the last string of tension, and something in me soared. How could our kinks line up so perfectly?
It wasn’t a long orgasm or an intense one, but that hadn’t been the point. She needed me as close as I could possibly be, and I needed to give that to her. The orgasm was good, and hers seemed to be too, but as the tingling high slowly faded away, I knew it was more about the physical release mirroring the emotional one. We’d held on to so much fear, so much paranoia and doubt, and now we could let it go.
Lauren was so close to sleep it was painful to keep her up, but I needed her to sit on the toilet for a moment to let me clean her up, and she complied. I promised we’d take a shower in the morning and just wipe down the key points on her sleepy body now with a soft rag so she wouldn’t wake up feeling uncomfortable; then, I did the same to myself and took us back to the bedroom. Clothes were shed, the comforter was pushed to the floor, and we cuddled up to each other under the sheets to feel the skin we hadn’t revealed during sex. I slept better than I had in weeks.
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Twenty-six. What did people do when they turned twenty-six? I wondered, sighing as I shucked my heels off. How do people even celebrate their birthdays? I knew what kids did, what I’d longed for every year and never got, but did people even celebrate their birthdays when they got older? I was pretty sure Jen had cake at her last birthday, so maybe they did.
Maybe that was just Jen, though. She could be a little kooky.
I flipped on the lights in my apartment, looking as dull as it ever did but depressing me more than usual. It was just a big, empty room, lit by incandescent bulbs and echoing with silence. I wondered morosely what it would be like to have laughter and small talk in there instead, balloons and drinks on the coffee table. I wondered what it would be like to have people I cared for milling around and playing card games and wishing me a happy birthday.
I sighed but didn’t try to shake myself out of it. I knew by now it wouldn’t do any good.
My birthday was always one of the worst days of the year for me, and this was why. But, I reminded myself unenthusiastically that tomorrow would come, and tomorrow was not my birthday. My apartment would be back to being the same apartment it had always been; I’d be able to enjoy the art I’d hung on the walls without wishing I had photos to hang out instead, the silence would be soothing instead of crushing, and the freedom would feel less like loneliness. I would be proud of myself again; of all I’d accomplished on my own. I’d be able to recognize that my sorrow was bearing fruit, slowly but surely.
That was tomorrow, though. Tonight, I was allowed to miss the life I’d never had.
So I changed quietly out of my work clothes, sat on my faded green couch and thought for the thousandth time that I should try to reupholster it over the weekend. I contemplated the merits of watching television versus reading a book and ended up scrolling mindlessly through my phone instead. It was normal. Normal was good, I reminded myself.
The knock at my door was not normal, and in truth, it startled me quite a bit. Normally it wouldn’t be so bad, but today always brought back bad memories and old ghosts. The irrational part of my mind went into overdrive, imagining my mom tracking me down, and when the doorknob started turning, terror gripped me. I hadn’t locked the door, how stupid could I be? I scrambled for the phone I’d dropped in my lap, ready to call the police—when Jen stepped through the door, grocery store sushi in her hands.
I stared at her, dumbstruck. She snorted at the look on my face and rolled her eyes before grinning widely at me. “Happy birthday, birdy girl!” she called, and my eyes watered.
“Jen! I thought you were out of state?” I said, standing and rushing over to take her offering. She had a cupcake, too, with a candle stuck in the frosting, just waiting to be lit.
“It’s Iowa City; it’s not that far,” she waved me off as if driving multiple hours was trivial. “I’ll be back in time for the meeting tomorrow. Besides, I wasn’t about to let you spend your birthday alone!” My lip wobbled.
“Thanks,” I said hoarsely. Jen just laughed and wrapped her arms around me. “I don’t know what to do now, though.”
“Well, first, you hand me a lighter, and we get this bitch lit,” she said, lacking all judgment or pity. “You make your wish, and then we watch a movie or something! Or we can finish that zombie show, that thing’s hilarious. I still can’t believe they made a show about rotting corpses eating people so fucking funny.” I laughed, feeling a weight lift off and out of my chest.
“Yeah, that sounds good,” I sniffled. “Want a drink?”
As we bumbled around each other, laughing and getting settled with our cheap sushi—my favorite, embarrassingly enough—I felt light returning to the corners of my apartment. It didn’t feel so small or dim anymore. I would never be able to repay Jen for this, would I? Not that she’d ever ask, but sometimes I wondered if she had any idea how truly life-changing her friendship was for me.
The show came on, a comedic mockumentary about rebuilding society during the zombie apocalypse, and I leaned into Jen as we laughed with our mouths full. For the first time I could remember, I wasn’t going to spend my birthday crying myself to sleep.
Lauren’s sigh seemed to shake the windows as she walked in, stretching out her lower back as she carefully took off her shoes. I grinned proudly at her. She’d always worked hard, and now that she was a senior partner, she seemed to be working even harder. She was incredible.
“Wow, home before you for once,” I said, startling her. She whirled around, eyebrows high on her forehead as she registered that I was there. She smiled at me like an angel.
“I guess you are,” she said, putting down her briefcase. “Did your negotiations go well, then?” I shrugged.
“They went fast, at least,” I said, leaning against the counter. “I’m making stir fry, is that alright?” I saw a little worry flash into Lauren’s eyes, and I stood up straighter.
“With shrimp?” she asked.
“Yeah, why?” I asked, concerned. I’d made her this before, and she’d eaten it without compunction, so I wasn’t sure why she’d hesitate now. I knew she’d gone to the doctor earlier that day, did he put her on a diet or something? Lauren swallowed, not looking me in the eye.
“Rich…” she said, tangling and untangling her fingers. She looked like she was hesitating to tell me something, and my anxiety immediately spiked.
“What? What is it?” I asked, striding over to her to hold her hands in mine. Lauren took a deep breath. “Did the doctor say something?”
“Let’s sit down,” she said diplomatically. Dread sunk into my stomach like lead, and all I could do was follow her.
“What is it?” I asked, scared. I couldn’t be losing her already, could I? I’d—I’d get her better doctors, the best in the world, I’d do anything to keep her here with me. We sunk onto the couch together, my heart hammering. Lauren still wasn’t looking me in the eye. “Lauren?”
“Rich,” she said, steeling herself. I felt sick. “I’m pregnant.”
I didn’t feel sick anymore. I didn’t feel anything except stunned.
“Pregnant?” I echoed dumbly, eyes wide. Lauren finally looked at me, watching my reaction closely.
“Yes,” she said, voice shaking. “We’re—we’re having a baby, Rich.”
I stared, unable to fathom it. A baby? Us? I was going to be a father? Me?
Lauren continued, starting to shake. “I know that we’re young, and it’s early, and we haven’t even been engaged that long, we haven’t even talked about kids yet, but—but I want to keep this baby. I am keeping this baby, Richard. I know it’s unexpected, and I’m sorry but—”
It finally computed in my mind that this was real, and I pulled her into an ecstatic kiss. That happened to break off her rant, too, which was good because I could tell she was getting the wrong idea. I pulled back just enough to put my forehead on hers, my eyes watering. I laughed.
“A baby,” I said, joy filling every cell of my body. “Oh my God, a baby!” Lauren stared up at me, cautious.
“So you… you’re okay with that?” she asked.
“Okay?” I gasped. “Lauren, I—I’m so grateful. I feel like the whole world just fell into place because we’re having a baby. Us! This is, this is the greatest gift you could ever give me, I—” I felt tears slip out of my eyes. “Ah shit, here we go again!” We both laughed.
“Happy tears, though?” Lauren asked, hopeful. I cupped her face in my palms, looking down at her like she was the sun I orbited around. I knew we orbited around each other, but sometimes it felt like she was the center of the universe, and I was okay with that.
“So happy, bunny,” I grinned, sniffling. Finally, finally, Lauren beamed ecstatically and threw herself into my arms, laughing with relief and unbridled joy. I felt like my soul was going to burst out of my skin any second—there was no way I could hold all of this. I placed my hand on her lower stomach, convincing myself I could feel our baby there even though her tummy would be flat for a while longer. She couldn’t be more than a month along, after all.
Ha, maybe all that raw dogging did the trick.
I kissed her again, and again, and again. I loved this woman so much. I was overjoyed, ecstatic, practically superhuman. We were bringing the next Marino into the world together. I was going to pass down our family name, our heritage, our love. I was going to be a dad.
The only word in my head was Perfect. Perfect, perfect, perfect. Because that was exactly what we were.
“I want to get married again.” Annabelle adjusts my wedding dress and smiles at my reflection in the mirror.
I smile back at her. Bobbed blonde with an eccentric fashion sense who happens to be the stylist for my wedding.
“I wear it better?” I squint playfully.
“Don’t let Maria hear this, but yes,” she winks at me and I giggle.
I’ve always wished I could wear a wedding dress that meant something to a couple with a beautiful love story, and when Maria offered her wedding dress and gave permission to have it altered, I hopped on it. She is a mother to me and what more can I ask of in life and on this special day than to wear the wedding dress of a love story that has given me the best gift in the world?
“We can get it off, and wait for later when it’s time,” Anabelle takes her hands to the zipper and I nod like I want my head to fall off my neck.
I’m all butterflies and floating love ships right now. Nervous, but not unsure about walking down the aisle with the best man in the whole world today.
“Yes!” I shriek, laughing to myself as the thought of getting married today slaps again.
It’s my wedding day.
It’s my freaking wedding day!
I have thought I would be marrying someone I have no affection towards just to please my family, but now life has given me an unimaginable gift and if anyone asks me, I would do it all over again since it all led me here.
“I’m getting married, Annabelle,” I step out of the dress.
“And you make a beautiful bride,” she takes the dress to the mannequin beside my window and mounts it.
I smile at the flowy eggshell ball gown dress, embellished with stones. Long sleeves to my wrists and a veil that’s longer than the tail of the gown. It didn’t have any stones when I got it from Maria, and the size was a bit small, but now, it’s been customized to my taste and size.
Maria said when she made the dress, she wanted her daughter to wear it someday. Years down the line, she has a son and now he’s giving her a daughter to make that dream happen for her.
I blink my tears back and sniff.
I wasn’t a crybaby at first, but as months went by and the day drew near, I couldn’t help myself.
This is more than I ever dreamed of. This is more than I ever thought could happen to me.
“I’ll go check what is happening. I need to make sure everything compliments you in that dress,” Annabelle claps her hands together.
“Sure, I’ll just be in here.”
“I doubt that,” she chuckles and walks out.
As soon as she walks out, I step out and start sneaking into the one place I have been banned by Orazio, Maria, and Evelyn from going to. I sneak up to Benedetto’s bedroom. He asked me to move in with him but Maria stated firmly that since the wedding is near, I should maintain my room, that it builds anticipation. She did have a point.
“Baby,” Benedetto smiles at me, drops his blunt on the ashtray on his bed, and opens his arms for me.
“Amore,” I stole that one from Orazio’s list. I take coy strides toward him and sit on his lap.
“How are you feeling?” He kisses my bare shoulder and takes the string sleeve of my pastel blue nightwear between his thumb and index finger.
“Excited…” I bounce giddily on his lap, “The guests will start arriving soon,” I throw my arms around his neck and drop my head on his shoulder.
“Orazio is around somewhere,” He is saying one thing and doing another.
His hand snakes around my back to my breast and he slips it under my nightwear to grab it.
I have been challenged to one week of abstinence till marriage by Evelyn and I took up the damn challenge and now everyone knows that, and is making sure somehow, I stick to it. If I falter, I have to wear her hideous collection till my first anniversary.
“Your abstinence pact is for sex, not this,” he pinches my nipple, and my pussy twitches, throbbing for his touch because I have missed the shit out of it.
“We can’t,” oh, but I want to.
“We can cheat, no?” He twiddles my nipple.
“No,” I breathe in lazily, already melting to the movement of his fingers twiddling my nipple. I try to push his hand weakly away but he is not moving.
“I want to fuck you,” He clips me to his body in a way that keeps me pinned and moves his other hand to under my dress, “Open up for me.”
I close my legs some more and shake my head, wanting it but enjoying having him take it from me. He grunts and rough handles his way through and I’m sure his fingers have left bruises in their wake.
His hand finds my sex and he cups the clean-shaven spot, “Just how I like it served,” he slips his hand down but I begin to wriggle.
One year wearing wrap dresses with hideous motifs as a newlywed to a man like Benedetto is not something I want to do. I want to go full me with him. When we step out, I want people to see the woman he has beside him. I want to turn heads. As it stands, I have to keep my game on and not make any woman think he got the worst end of the deal.
“Is that how you want to play?” He slides two fingers, like he loves to, inside me and I scream from the sharp thrust even though I’m wet and needy for it.
“If you fuck me, the wedding is…” I start to say and he snorts, curves his fingers inside me, and then begins to finger me in jerky circular thrusts.
“It’s not fucking if my cock is still in my boxer briefs,” he grunts as he strokes me.
His other hand pinches my nipples while his mouth covers the side of my chest and he begins to suckle. I know what he is doing. My wedding dress doesn’t cover up to that point. He wants to give me a hickey.
I keep wiggling but who am I deceiving? I’m straddling his fingers, wanting to come quickly before someone comes in here to see us. We need a door in his room. Or not. I don’t care. I’m close.
I bite my lower lip to keep my moaning gulped as the torrent of heat sweeps from my head, blurring my vision, down to my mouth, which parts to give me out, to my chest, making my heart pound against it, to my stomach, and finally to my pussy, rolling out as come.
I collapse, resting my head on his shoulder as I try to catch my breath. He slips his fingers out and takes them to his mouth to lick them.
“This will do for now,” he kisses my temple.
Footsteps approach and he drops his hand on my breast, quickly adjusting me to cover me up.
“As your best man, it’s time to get ready,” Orazio snaps his fingers at the both of us, “And shouldn’t the bride be getting ready?”
“What time is it?” I slur.
“The guests are arriving, that’s the time it is,” Orazio clips and I jump on my feet, a little dizzy but good.
“See you at the aisle,” I scurry out of his room, rushing down to mine.
I have to be in there before Evelyn comes to get me with the other glam team.
I open my bedroom door and I jump right out of my skin when I see everyone waiting for me.
Evelyn is now in her maroon silk wrap dress, as my maid of honor. Maria is in a dress of the same color but more stylish. Annabelle is here and so is the makeup artist, Joel, the hairstylist, Kim, and the overbearing frizzy curled wedding planner, Estelle.
“I went for a walk,” I smile at them.
“You look…” Estelle begins to say but I lift my index finger to stop her.
I have made new friends during the months leading up to my wedding. Hanging out with them and discussing other things that are not wedding-related.
“Let’s get her ready,” Maria snaps her fingers and sips her whiskey.
Yeah, Benedetto got a lot from his mother. The woman drinks like a shark.
Joel drags a swivel chair to the center and I nod, exhale, squeak a little from overwhelming excitement, and then go to sit.
Hours later, I’m fully baked, and dressed for my big day. Standing under a starry sky at the end of the petaled aisle, with my maroon bouquet in hand, and the man I want to be joined to on the other end, standing on one side of the platform in a maroon tux and honey eyes that match my adorned hair.
Petals of emerald green and maroon with draping lights and hanging flowers. The guests are now standing on both sides of me, the bride. On one side, are Benedetto’s friends, his easygoing personality having paid off, while on the other side are some of my friends from my days in New York who started coming around again when they heard the news of me marrying Benedetto.
I walk down the aisle, with Maria doing me the honors since I have no family to do that for me.
I have mixed feelings as I walk past the smiling faces and the petals they’re throwing on the floor. I wish my family were here but also happy that I have this new family that loves me unexplainably and that I love too.
I get to the platform and my eyes meet Romano, his tux matching Benedetto’s. He smiles warmly at me and I nod. We are family now and these past months have given everyone time to forgive and move on to the important things, like accepting that whatever is done in the name of love is worth doing.
Orazio smiles at me and blows me a kiss, making me snort. He is Benedetto’s best man, as should be, and my bag of worries. He is soon becoming the big brother I never had in Lawrence.
“Hey,” I smile at Benedetto as Maria lets go and I climb on the platform.
“Baby,” he winks at me.
That pet name will never get old.
Never.
The sturdy clergyman in black proceeds with the procession and so it begins.
“Amore,” I take Benedetto’s hands, “I will love you for as long as I live, and even in death, I will find you and love again, and if I meet you in another lifetime, I will love you still, because this mind, this heart, the soul was custom made to fall for you in every universe, and every lifetime,” I kiss his hands.
“I love you, Rosaline,” he sniffs, “I’ve always loved you, I never knew how not to love you and I know there’s no time or place that I can exist without loving you,” he squeezes my hands gently, “I’d love you every waking day and if I die tomorrow, I’d die a happy man because I was given a chance to know a love like the one I feel for you.”
A tear slips and he catches it with his thumb.
I know he loves me, but today, I’m seeing it more than I have every time he confesses it.
“I present to you, Mr. and Mrs. Corte,” The clergyman announces, “You may kiss your bride.”
We close the distance and seal our lips together.
This is the best day of my life.
The procession is over and the reception has begun. People are littered around in their graceful outfits, mingling, dancing, and whatnot. Maria is dancing with a little boy and Evelyn is busting herself with housekeeping even on a day like this.
“We are officially family, huh,” Romano hands me a champagne glass and hugs his wife Giada to his side.
“I can officially be a thorn in your flesh,” I smile at him and stroke Benedetto’s palm that has been snaked around my waist to rest on my stomach.
“That’s one person added to my friend list,” Giada smiles at us, “I must say I love your dress, it’s to die for.”
“Thank you,” Benedetto and I answer at the same time and I chuckle because he does that sometimes. Saying thank you on my behalf.
“I’m happy for you, brother,” Romano smiles slightly at Benedetto, “Rose, care for him, he is a good one.”
“I’m a good one,” I pout.
“You better care for her,” Giada points at Benedetto with her champagne glass.
“Always,” Benedetto hugs me tighter to himself.
“A toast then,” Romano lifts his glass, “To tragic circumstances that lead to happiness ever after.”
“I like that one,” Giada lifts her glass.
“To tragedy?” I lift my glass.
“To tragedy,” Benedetto lifts his.
We clink glasses and I mentally hear a bell announcing my new beginning dings.
One lifetime launched, and thousands more to come.
I take a deep breath, the scent of wildflowers surrounding me as I clutch my bouquet. The warm sunlight filters through the leaves of the towering oak trees, casting a gentle glow on the outdoor wedding setting. Rustic wooden chairs line the aisle, adorned with delicate lace and twined with ivy. The vibrant colors of the flowers pop against the natural greens and browns of the surrounding nature.
As I make my way down the aisle, the soft crunch of gravel beneath my feet accompanies the sweet melody of a live acoustic guitar, played by a hidden musician. The atmosphere is serene, a harmonious blend of nature’s beauty and the anticipation of the ceremony ahead.
Alessandro stands at the end of the aisle, his dark eyes fixed on me with a mixture of excitement and tenderness. Dressed in a sleek charcoal suit, he exudes an air of sophistication that complements the rustic charm of our surroundings. The sunlight catches the silver flecks in his hair, giving him an almost ethereal glow.
We lock eyes, and I see a reassuring warmth in his gaze that eases the nervous flutter in my stomach. I reach him, and he extends his hand, a gesture that’s both familiar and comforting.
“Ready for this?” he whispers, his voice a low murmur that only I can hear.
I nod, a small smile playing on my lips. “More than ready.”
As we face the small-town Catholic priest, I can’t help but marvel at the contrast between Alessandro’s strong belief in the church and my own skepticism.
The priest, a kindly figure with a white collar peeking out from his traditional robes, smiles at us. “Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today…”
Alessandro tightens his grip on my hand, a silent reassurance that we’re in this together, beliefs aside.
The ceremony unfolds in the embrace of nature, the priest’s words blending with the rustling leaves and the distant song of a bird. Vows are exchanged, promising a future entwined with shared dreams and challenges.
“Do you, Alex, take Mia to be your lawfully wedded wife?” the priest intones.
“I do,” Alessandro replies, his voice steady and full of conviction.
As the priest pronounces us husband and wife, the guests erupt into joyous applause.
Alessandro pulls me into a gentle embrace, sealing our union with a tender kiss. “I love you, mia cara,” he whispers against my ear.
“I love you too,” I reply, feeling the joy of those words, the promise of a lifetime.
***
The soft melody wraps around us, and I feel Alessandro’s strong arms holding me close. The little community we’ve formed celebrates our union, and as we dance, I can’t help but smile. The papers say we’re Mr. and Mrs. Marcia, but Alessandro insisted on a wedding.
His playful flirting makes my heart race, and I get lost in the dance, in his eyes.
“Your red hair looks stunning,” he whispers, planting a gentle kiss on my cheek. I blush, not used to this life, but with Alessandro, everything feels weightless, happy, and free. As we sway to the music, he suggests we leave, and I eagerly agree.
We share a sweet kiss, and soon, we’re on our way to the small mansion surrounded by endless vineyards, a world Alessandro bought for us.
The night air is warm as we arrive, and Alessandro sweeps me off my feet, carrying me over the threshold. “My wife, my Rachel,” he declares, a mischievous glint in his eyes. I playfully slap his chest, “I am Mia now.” He chuckles, “You were always mine.”
The mansion stands as a sanctuary of opulence, every corner a testament to Alessandro’s boundless love and devotion. Soft light spills from elegant chandeliers, casting a warm glow over the room saturated with the fragrance of fresh flowers. Alessandro guides me to a space adorned with floor-to-ceiling windows from which we have a panoramic view of sprawling vineyards—a sight that steals my breath.
“I hope you are happy here,” Alessandro says, his gaze filled with a sincerity that tugs at my heart.
“Here in Nasik, India, or here with you?” I tease, allowing a playful smile to grace my lips.
He turns me to face him, his hands tracing gentle patterns up and down my back. He is focused on the zipper of my dress, and each of his deliberate motions sends shivers down my spine.
“Staying with me,” he affirms, a smile playing on his lips.
And in this luxurious haven, surrounded by his love, I am more than content.
“You are my home,” I declare, lifting onto my toes to place a tender kiss on his jaw.
“Perfect. Now, can we get this dress off of you? Because I have only thought of getting you out of it ever since I saw you walk down the aisle,” he admits, his desire evident in his dark eyes.
I can’t help but smile at his honesty as he skillfully removes my dress. In this intimate moment, right here with him, I realize that this is exactly where I’m meant to be.
As the fabric pools around my feet, the air crackles with anticipation. The room, now drenched in a sultry ambiance, mirrors the intensity between us. Alessandro’s hands explore the curves of my body, setting every inch of my skin on fire under his touch.
I fucking adore him, and the life we have built together.
His lips find mine in a hungry kiss. The world outside the expansive windows fades away, leaving only the two of us in this cocoon of desire.
He cups my breasts in his hands enjoying the weight of them in his hands. He massages them, rolling and pinching the nipples before he leans down and takes one stiff peak into his warm mouth.
I am already close to coming and he has barely touched me yet.
My husband is a master at what he does, and what he seems to enjoy most is unraveling me. He lets go off my nipple with a loud pop.
“Rachel, you better take out my cock,” he orders before returning to lavish his attention to my other nipple. With trembling fingers, I undo his fly and watch in fascination as his cock springs free.
I am licking my bottom lip as my hand wraps around his length. He rewards me by biting on my breast before sucking again a little harder. I am delirious.
I am moaning as my hand moves up and down his cock. This does not feel nearly good enough. So, I let go of his cock, which slaps angrily on his abdomen and make quick work of getting rid of his buttoned-up shirt. I pop one button after the other before dragging it off him.
Then my hands slide into the waistband of his pants and boxers and drag them down.
Alessandro has stopped, and he is watching me in fascination. He grunts in pleasure as I rake my French manicured nails up and down his well-defined torso.
He pushes me backwards towards the bed and I land on my back. ”I am going to make you come on my tongue before I can give you my cock.”
“Okay boss.”
“Now open your legs.” He commands.
I obey, my breath heavy, my fingers grabbing onto the sheets.
Before I can register it, he leans in and swipes his tongue through my center and I shudder.”
“Do you like that, baby?”
“Fuck- Yes.”
“Would you like my cock, mia cara?
I nod, my entrance slick with arousal.
“Say it Rachel. Say you need my cock.”
“I need your cock,” I whimper.
“You love me fucking you, sweetheart?” He asks as he drives into me.
“Yes, yes Alessandro!”
“Say it.”
“I love you fucking me.”
He kisses my stomach, turns me over and laying on top of me, spreads my legs wide open. “Cazzo, I fucking love being married to you.” Then he pushes my back, lifts my hips and slams into me, I moan and squirm trying to adjust to his delicious intrusion.
“This is your cock, Rachel.”
“Yes,” I cry out.
He growls before leaning down and wrapping his hand around my throat. I love when he chokes me while he is inside me. He squeezes gently, then pulls out of my pussy before slamming back in.
My eyes roll to the back of my eyes and I am pretty sure I can taste stars. This position is letting him sink a little deeper.
My breath quickens.
“Aah. Fuck! Fuck, Alessandro! I am going to come. You are going to make me come,” I moan.
“Then come for me, bambina.”
I whimper loudly, my back arching and my legs trembling as I crash. My eyes roll back as my inner muscles squeeze around him.
He curses in Italian as his thrusts turn erratic.
I can barely take it.
He pulls his cock out and instead of coming in my mouth like he is so fond of doing, he turns me around again and comes on my heaving breast. I am sore and marked by him in every way possible.
I just lay on the bed. I follow him with my gaze as he gets up. He makes his way to our bathroom and comes back with a warm towel. I am catatonic and spent as he cleans me up.
Then he slips into bed pulling me on top of him.
“Stay with me forever, Rachel.”
“Really?” I reply looking into his beautiful eyes, “I thought we established that when we got married. You are still going to want to hear it, right?”
He nods as he kisses the side of my head. “Yes, mia cara.”
I hope he sees the truth in my eyes as I say, “I will stay, I promise,” and for the first time in a really long time, I actually mean it.
