And tender took on a whole new meaning.
“Scoot down to the edge.” He watched as she did as he directed, levering herself up on her elbows until she bucked up on the bed’s edge right where his cock waited for her.
“Remove your panties and spread your legs further. Use your hands if you have to,” he said as he selected a condom from her nightstand and rolled it up.
As she did, he readied himself to enter her. Slowly, with infinite precision, he pushed inside her tight, wet warmth. More than anything, the only message his brain was sending to his dick was to pound away, fast and hard until both of them were spent. It was a good thing his dick hadn’t controlled him for the better part of fifteen years as mindless fucking wasn’t on his agenda tonight. Slowly, he pushed even further, burying himself as deep as he could go. He looked down to see where they were joined, pride swelling throughout his heart and his head. He knew she’d had sexual partners before. He also knew that she’d never allowed any man the liberties he demanded and took on a nightly basis. Hers was a gift intended to be cherished.
Tonight his sole focus was slow, meticulous strokes, precisely calibrated to bring her to the brink over and over again before allowing her to come. In and out he went, looking at her, looking at their bodies. Enter. Repeat. When he couldn’t stand it anymore, he said, “Are you ready?”
“Yes,” she breathed as she rocked her hips back and forth, completely in tune with the tempo he’d set.
“Come for me, Calleigh, again. I love watching you come.”
Again, she did. After she finished, he unleashed his full power, thrusting as fast as he’d ever moved in his entire life, until he too, was spent. Withdrawing, he pulled his cock out, shiny with her juices, and leaned down to kiss her deeply on the lips. She tasted like cinnamon tonight--sweet and spicy. She grabbed the back of his head when he would have otherwise pulled away and extended the kiss. Breaking the contact, he kept his eyes closed while he nuzzled her nose.
“That was quite a welcome-home present, woman,” he said as he felt her body flush against his. The breasts that refused to be constrained by her oh so pretty demi bra. The stomach that was doing its best to keep up with her lungs as she worked to control her breathing, as affected by tonight as he was.
“Are you saying you enjoyed it?” she asked, as she raised her legs to lock around his waist, bringing him fully on top of her. This was why men were designed to be hard and hairy all over while women were born to be soft, curvaceous and perfectly proportioned.
“Enjoyed it? Hell, it was all I could to do to not shoot off as soon as I saw you. You know that,” he said, rubbing his pelvis against hers, a slow, soft grind so different from the minutes before. “Although, you know, obedient subs never ask for praise. They wait patiently for their partners to tell them how they did. If it’s warranted.”
Immediately, she stiffened underneath him and it felt as though the temperature dropped about twenty degrees in the room with his statement.
Fuck.
“Calleigh?”
When she remained silent, he softly commanded, “Look at me.”
Her eyes opened to his, only inches away. “I think you’re perfect.”
He drilled his eyes into hers, willing her to accept the truth. The truth of his feelings. The truth of what they shared. What she meant to him and what he hoped he meant to her. When she loosened up and wrapped her arms around his back, he angled to the other side of her, moving back and forth, the friction of their bodies exciting both of them all over again.
“I love you, Calleigh.”
At his pronouncement, her eyes grew wide and began to glisten, while her mouth popped open and no sounds came out.
“It’s true. I love you. I love everything about you.”
Coughing slightly, she said, “Like what?”
He laughed. “Still looking for praise. Okay. Let’s see. I love the fact that you make lemonade in November because you enjoy the taste of lemons. I love the fact that you don’t even try and match up your athletic socks when you’re folding your laundry. I love the fact that you’ll put ice cubes in white wine. I love the fact that every part of your body is stunning, but you are completely modest about your looks.”
“Stunning?” she questioned, still unsure about her body. How she could have any doubt how much she turned him on, he would never know. Maybe he’d spend the next fifty years showing her.
Kissing her, he answered, “Stunning. Picture perfect. Beyond picture perfect. I love the electric blue nail polish you put on your toes. I love how you’ll sing along to Sesame Street songs. I even love your disdain for those flat shoes you seem to hate.”
“Ballet flats? They’re heinous. I mean, truly heinous. Any woman who thinks they’re flattering needs to have her head examined.”
He waited, wondering if she was going to reciprocate. And he didn’t need to wait long. He turned into the hand she placed on his cheek.
“I love you too, David.”
§ § §
David’s revelations the night before carved a place entrenched somewhere deep between her heart and her soul. His words surprised her, but her own love words bloomed forth from her mouth as though it was the most natural thing in the world. This morning when they’d parted for their respective jobs, she’d wondered if she should caboose the “I love you,” right before she turned away to make her path to her car. He’d stolen the question from her as he ground the words out across her sensitive lips before he cut across the street to reach his own ride.
She could glide to Walker the way she felt this morning. Light and joyous. Hopeful. And anxious, all mixed together as she contemplated the next stage in her life which David most certainly was going to be a prominent part of. He loved her and she loved him. Since they’d discussed the topic, marriage needed to be on the agenda at some point. She wanted to make the commitment to him for life in front of all of their friends and family. And maybe, just maybe, prove that she could have a healthy, happy, successful marriage even if her own parents were unable to keep theirs together.
Growing up, the list she carried around in the back of her mind provided general, flexible parameters for a suitable husband.
David blew the list out of the water and into the Grand Canyon. He epitomized nothing she ever envisioned herself committing to. Now, she couldn’t fathom the idea of him not being one of the main anchors in her life. Her hook in the best possible way. She knew their path would never be straight, nor would it be easy. His workaholic ways and obsessive compulsive tendencies where his job was concerned ensured he would never enjoy the same amount of free time her job as a high school teacher afforded her. Rare were the nights he arrived home before eight o’clock and even then, after dinner, he often checked his BlackBerry, sent off some must needed emails, and wasn’t loathe to make some necessary phone calls when warranted. Weekends weren’t a whole lot different. Sure, they slept in slightly during the mornings, but he often spent portions of both weekend days at Tide headquarters. She knew that in deference to her, he tried to bring more work home with him on Friday nights, but certain tasks needed to be completed behind the iron throne of the corporate office.
At least the sex was the least of her worries. Sexual dominants had no place on her radar until he burst into her kitchen that one night so seemingly long ago. He demanded things from her she never considered herself capable of giving until he demonstrated otherwise. The night he told her she held all the power in her hands, she’d scoffed internally. Her. Powerful. With a sexually dominant male who spoke to her in such explicit terms, she’d practically melted into a pool of sensual bliss on the ground right then and there. Which turned out to be only the beginning.
Now she knew his truth. The submissive controlled the whole ball game from start to finish. One word, and they stopped. No questions asked. No attempts to persuade otherwise. No continued physical ministrations. All activity completely ceased at her verbal command. Lucky for her, she’d never felt the urge to use her safe word with David. He mastered her body in every way.
It amazed her she actually knew so little about her own body while he knew so much. Almost, too much. She felt as though she had been created just for him. And him for her.
His intuition where she was concerned wasn’t limited to the bedroom either. He adeptly gauged her moods with a single inflection of her voice. Her “hi” could alert him to whether she’d had a shitty day at work, her shins and calves were worn out from soccer, or if she was completely turned on and couldn’t wait for him to arrive home. She could communicate a thousand thoughts in one glance that he picked up from a mile away.
Placing her lunch in Walker’s teacher’s lounge, she turned around and practically bumped into Mary.
“Hey you,” Mary beamed at her, seemingly as happy to see Calleigh as she was to see her.
“You!” she burst out and threw her arms around her best friend in an exuberant hug.
“Wow. What’s got you so excited on this weekday morning? Did you win Powerball and forget to call me?” Mary teased.
“I feel like I’ve won the lottery, that’s for sure,” she said. She could feel that she couldn’t keep the grin on her face from spreading from ear to ear. She felt like Christie Brinkley after Botox.
“David?” Mary asked, as she casually sipped from her coffee cup.
“Yes. You HAVE to meet him. Soon. What are you doing this weekend?”
Mary shook her head. “I have no plans,” her resignation drifting through the words.
“Still no word from Michael, I take it?” she asked. Michael Santiago, the Tide’s premier defensive end had sustained serious injuries to his leg two weeks ago, a problem in different ways for both her best friend and her boyfriend. He and Mary had broken up right before his injury and her pride prevented her from calling him. And his injury left a huge hole on the right side that David said “pretty much torpedoed our hopes for the playoffs.”
Mary shook her head again. “No. Nothing. And I can’t be the one to call him. I just can’t. Not this time. I’ve put myself out there enough for him. He needs to be the one to make the first move. He knows where I stand.”
Poor Mary. She’d been devastated when they’d broken up although he’d left her no other choice. For once, she was bereft of advice. No smooth lines. No easy, empty platitudes. Sometimes you were hurt and needed to absorb the hurt.
“Besides,” Mary continued, “He knows how to contact me if he wants me. He knows exactly where I live, my email, and my cell phone. He drew his line in the sand and I won’t cross it.”
“Fair enough. I still want you to meet David, even without the benefit of having Michael around,” she suggested. Early on when they’d first realized they were dating men who worked together, they’d batted around the idea of making a foursome out of some night. The realities of full schedules snuffed out that bright idea, but she was now bringing it back to front and center.
Mary’s smile tinged with sadness, as though smudged by an invisible puppet master. “I’d really like that. You name the place and time and I’ll be there.”
§ § §
The school year ended with both joy and sadness. Joy that another group of students had generally mastered their math skills and were progressing as students needed to do. Sadness that yet another year had passed and she wouldn’t be teaching the same set of kids any longer. Calleigh had spent the sunny June afternoon packing up her classroom, returning all outstanding emails, and considering the summer ahead.
David’s so-called “off season” was careening towards an end with training camp only four weeks away. Right before camp actually broke, they were planning on jetting off to Montana to see his parents over the Fourth of July weekend in a couple of weeks and until then, she was looking forward to sleeping late, working out, playing soccer, and spending as much time with David as his schedule allowed.
While she still had her loft, she spent almost every night at his house and had practically moved in. Her dry cleaning took up real estate in his closet along with her toiletries in his bathroom. They hadn’t had “the talk” about moving in together and maybe they didn’t need to. She was extraordinarily happy with everything the way it was. She loved David and knew he loved her. In addition to spending most nights together, they’d integrated their respective social circles.
She didn’t need anything further to validate their relationship or her place in his life.
Pulling into his driveway, she was surprised to find David’s car there. Delighted, she practically skipped to the back entrance. Opening the door up into the kitchen, the first thing she noticed were the votive candles that marked a pathway from the door, through the kitchen, and beyond complete with creamy yellow roses lining the designated path.
“David?” she called, as nerves sizzled along her spine. He wasn’t one for the grand romantic gesture and the candles coupled with the rose petals scattered on the floor definitely qualified as romantic.
When she received no answer, she continued to follow the lighted path through the dining room as it led her back through the living room and ultimately into David’s bedroom.
To find him on bended knee surrounded by more candles, cradling a beautiful, life-altering black velvet ring-case in which nestled a shimmering diamond. Overwhelmed, she felt her hand cover her mouth.
“Hello, Calleigh,” he said, his solemn voice at odds with his twinkling eyes. “David?” she asked with excitement and elation coursing through her veins. The speed with which his face had become so beloved in so short a time astonished her.
“Calleigh, I love you. You love me. I know we haven’t talked about this recently, but I want to marry you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you and I want the whole world to know that you’re mine and I’m yours. Will you marry me?” he asked, his voice strong and deep. Resonant with confidence. And love.
As if there was ever any doubt.
“Of course. I love you so much,” she said as tears welled in her eyes while David removed the ring from the box and placed it on her left hand, his own hand not so steady.