I wake up and glance at my watch; 2:30 a.m. Dane and I
went to sleep maybe one hour ago. I’m on my back and Dane is at my side, his
arm draped over my midsection, our legs tangled together. The one side light is
still on, and we’re still dressed as we were when we danced together; my white
tracksuit bottoms and white lace bra, the black jeans he changed into and
nothing more. Not even underwear.
Dane played the song that I
heard through the phone twice last night. We danced lazily and effortlessly to
the unbelievable skill of his dad on saxophone and the beautiful, captivating
voice of his mum. It’s now my favorite song.
It’s about expressing
I
love you
in ways other than saying it.
Many of the ways Dane has
told me the same thing.
Love is more than a word.
In my case it’s an
encapsulation of actions I’ve been blind to, because I was looking for the
wrong thing. I wanted Dane to say it.
Once upon a time I was with
a man who said it so easily, but his actions said otherwise. I know what it is
to be told you’re loved, but what you experience is anger, pain, control and
cruelty through other words.
After Dane and I finished on
the phone last night, after he shared something so personal and special with
me, I spent hours thinking about the past few years of my life and the time
I’ve been with Dane. Suddenly, my awareness and understanding, of us as a
couple and me as an individual, started to fall into place.
I love my life right now.
I’m entirely in love with the man sleeping at my side, and I’m not afraid to
tell him that any longer.
Turning my head puts Dane
and I nose-to-nose. I know I should leave him alone; he has work today, I can
make up for lost time once he goes. But I can’t stop myself.
Tilting my head a fraction,
our lips touch. I press mine to his. He’s unaware of my intrusion, so I brush
the side of my forefinger against his cheek. His eyes stay closed, but the
tiniest furrow between his brows and the slightest movement of his head tells
me he’s waking up.
This time when I kiss Dane,
he kisses me back. One soft press and then I slip my tongue into his mouth, his
palm cups my cheek. I pop the button on his jeans, lower the zip, and start to
push them down. When they’re mid-thigh, Dane pushes them off the rest of the
way and shifts to kneel between my legs and removes my clothes.
Remaining between my thighs,
he pushes my knees higher and wider. Placing one hand on the bed, with his arm
extended, Dane holds himself up over me. We’re fully exposed to each other with
no contact between us. He looks down into my eyes as he presses a finger inside
me, moving back and forth. He adds a second, then a third, fucking me slowly
with all three, my wetness increasing with the pleasure. Rocking my hips takes
him deeper, heightening the sensations. I watch as his gaze takes in my face,
my enjoyment; my eyes, my mouth, even my forehead. His focus lingers on my lips
when I lick them.
The stroking of my walls
stops and I glance down, propping my chin on my chest, as his hand closes
around his long, thick shaft. I watch as he glides along his cock, moving over
satin-soft skin and blood engorged veins, his wet fingers lubricating him. When
a large pearl of pre-come presents at the tip, I reach down between us and
catch it in my palm. As he massages his shaft, I focus on the head. The vision
of our joint caresses; his large, masculine hand with chocolate colored skin,
and my smaller, feminine hand with fairer skin is enough to make me moan. His
low groans and muttered words designed to tease and encourage me and my
awareness of his attention remaining on my expression make me feel desperate. I
find myself writhing with want as his name slips from my lips weaved with
pitiful whimpers.
“Soon, baby,” is his
continued response.
Watching me, reading me,
when he knows I’m absolutely aching with need, he fills me with one hard
thrust. My screaming moan of relief collides with his deep, coarse groan. With
his hands on the mattress, either side of my shoulders, he’s raised over me and
only our lower bodies connect. He fucks me as though we haven’t been together
in weeks, not just days. I grip his wrists to hold myself in place and my body
devours him as though we haven’t been together in weeks, not just days.
Loud and shameless, I should
probably be mindful of the fact that we’re in a hotel and mute my vocal
expression of pleasure, but I don’t care – I want my man and everything he has
to give. Dane verbally encourages this, he wants to hear me.
He slips his arms around my
waist and takes me with him as he sits back on his heels. We’re
stomach-to-stomach, chest-to-chest. As he thrusts upwards, I ride him, slow and
controlled, pressing the heels of my feet into the mattress for extra leverage.
His moist skin; the bulk of
his tense, rippling muscles; the firm clutch of his hands on my breasts; the
fullness of my passage snugly sheathing his dick; his wonderful, safe, and
welcome scent; his evident pleasure, I take it all in and lose myself in him.
When he fists my hair at the nape, I willingly let him ease my head back and
keep him in the circle of my arms as his lips, tongue and teeth caress, suck
and nip my breasts and neck.
Sensations start to spike,
powerful pulsation building in my clit. Embracing my moans of ecstasy, I
welcome the intense, sweet release. Dane holds me tight to him through his own
climax. I love the way he holds me when he comes. I feel like I’m the only
thing that exists in his world in those moments.
In a quiet filled with
contentment, I lay with my head on Dane’s chest. His strong, steady heartbeat
plays its rhythm beneath my ear, and I’m wrapped in him and his scent, under
the cover.
“Why did you wake up
before?” Dane asks as his fingers slip into my loose hair and start massaging
my scalp.
“I honestly don’t know. I
think it’s just because of the light being on or something. Keep working my
scalp like that and I won’t be alert for much longer.”
“I know.”
My cheek presses against him
as I smile at that. “So you’ve got me figured out?” Whenever he does this to me
I’m gone within minutes. It’s always timed perfectly, when I’m restless and
can’t sleep.
“In some ways yes. In other
ways no. I know there’s something haunting you in your sleep. I know you’re not
ready to talk about it. I hope that’ll change, and you’ll confide in me soon.
Can you promise me something, though?”
I can’t speak. Not only
because I’m so stunned by what he said, but because my throat is tight with
emotion. I force myself to nod in agreement.
“If you wake up from a
nightmare and I’m still asleep, I want you to wake me and let me hold you. I
won’t ask you about it, I’ll only try to make you feel safe.”
I squeeze my eyes shut as a
sudden buildup of tears makes them sting. One escapes, but I don’t mind and I
don’t try to stop it when it leaves the side of my eye and lands on Dane’s
chest.
I slowly nod again, and I
mean it – I will do as he’s asked.
“Whenever you need to cry,
do it knowing that we’re still equal and all I’ll want is to take away the
reason for those tears, unless they’re tears of happiness.”
My response is the same, and
again, I mean it.
“If you ever start to doubt
me wanting to be with you, don’t drive us both crazy with questions while you
try to figure things out. Just tell me how you’re feeling and let me show you
that you’re wrong. There isn’t any other woman out there that I could possibly
want as much as you. You’re all I want.”
Oh, boy, what woman wouldn’t
sob all over her boyfriend if he said things like that to her?
This one can’t help it,
that’s for sure.
I haven’t let myself cry for
over nine months. Now that I am, I feel like I’m making up for something I’ve
needed to do that whole time. And I can do it knowing that Dane won’t take
pleasure from my tears, they won’t make him feel powerful and me weak.
All Dane does the whole time
is hold me tightly, until I can no longer keep my eyes open.
The next morning, Dane escorts me to my room. We stop
outside the door.
“You gonna be okay?” he
asks, his gaze searching mine.
“More than okay.” I
absolutely mean it.
“Sure you don’t want me to
go talk to Stephan?”
“No, honestly it’s fine. He
didn’t mean any harm. I’d rather not make a bigger deal of it.”
He drops his bag, cups my
cheeks and kisses me. Bad move, now I
really
don’t want him to go. I
wrap my arms around him and feast on his mouth. Dane responds with the same
enthusiasm.
“No PDA in the hall,” I hear
Leona say in her American accent.
When Dane and I look in her direction,
him laughing at her, she’s walking towards us. She stayed in Kayla and Ella’s
room last night.
Stopping at my side, Leona
hugs me. “You look bright eyed and bushytailed,” she says.
“I am.”
“Stephan’s really sorry, he
feels so bad.”
“I don’t want him to feel
bad.” I turn my attention to Dane before discussing this with Leona, because it
took a lot of talking on my part this morning to persuade him to let me deal
with the situation. “You’ll be late, you should get going.”
“Okay. I’ll talk to you before
the show,” he says.
“Thank you for looking after
my friend,” Leona says, and then she hugs him, quite enthusiastically.
Dane’s eyes widen a little,
with surprise, and he hugs her back.
Quality bourbon, vintage tobacco and funky Latin
beats; that’s the order of the night. Saff wanted to have a movie night at her
house with Su, Brooklyn, Leona, Kayla, Ella, Tracy, and Rebecca, so here we
guys are. I’m not going hard, though, I want my head fully clear for Brooklyn’s
first motorcycle ride tomorrow.
The topic of conversation is
women and karma, in relation to each other. Gerard has become a little fixated
on karma of late. I think there’s more to it than meets the eye.
“So come on, you, it’s clear
something’s going on,” I say to Gerard.
We all look at him. I’m not
the only curious one here, he’s been secretive lately and this is a man that
usually tells us everything, even the shit we don’t want to know.
“Guys you would not believe
it. One minute I’m cruising through life, having me a good time, Jessica,
Molly, Mackenzie. And then ...
Bam!
” His hands slap together in the air
before landing flat on the table top. “Hold up! Road. Block. Ahead.” He shakes
his head and follows that up with, “Peyton.” Relaxing back in his chair, he
goes silent.
Faces frozen, we all stare
at him. I’m not sure what to take from that name, but I’ve never seen that look
on his face before. No wait. When he gets a new car he has it, but never when
talking about a chick. The dude adores women, but he doesn’t get attached.
“And?” Adam asks.
“And what?” He shrugs.
“You can’t just say that and
nothing more.”
“What more is there to say?
She’s the one.”
“Fuck me, you’ve got it
bad,” I say, astounded. “I’ve never seen that look on your face in all the
years I’ve known you. Who is she?”
“My dad was getting pissed
with me at work. Said I wasn’t pulling my weight. He decided I should be
demoted
to teach me a lesson, have me earn my position back, like I give a fucking
fuck. He got in a replacement; Peyton Jordan. Guys, you have got to see her.
She’s a smoky-eyed brunette with nice curves and the prettiest smile I’ve ever
seen. The finest ass, too, and here’s the best part ...”
He goes quiet again.
He stays quiet.
Motherfucker loves the
anticipation right now. I’m on the verge of kicking his chair when he finally
opens his mouth to continue.
“She’s an ex-porn
star.”
“
What?
” we all say in
stunned unison. He said it like he was telling us she’s an English
teacher.
Gerard laughs. “I’m kidding,
guys. Everything is true except the last part, although, she’d be perfect for
that career if she wanted to do it. I’d be her number one fan, for sure.”
I still can’t believe it,
he’s the last person I expected to hear this from.
“So what’s going on
with you two?” I ask.
“I watch her all day. If my
dad thought I wasn’t pulling my weight before.” He shakes his head and
smiles.
“Dude, man, c’mon.
Give us more,” I say. I don’t like the way he’s delaying shit.
“I know everything I
possibly can about her. I know where she lives. If I can get up early enough, I
go to her house and watch her leave for work. When she finishes, I follow her
home. Sometimes I drive by at night, park up and just hang outside her house.”
Oh, shit.
“That’s stalking,” Joe says,
sounding no less stunned than I feel. “You’re stalking the poor woman.”
“That’s not stalking, I’m
not gonna hurt her.”
“That’s not the point,” Adam
and I say, unintentionally at the same time.
This is something else I
never expected to hear from him. And there was Joe and me thinking we were
weirdoes.
“Guys, it’s not how it
sounds, we speak every day. I’m not some crazy killer pervert – I wouldn’t harm
a hair on her head. I can’t stop thinking about her and sometimes I just have
to see her.”
“I get it,” Joe says. “We
all get it. But you can’t just follow her around and sit outside her house.
Does she know how you feel about her?”
“She knows I like her, but
she thinks it’s a bad idea because she works for my dad. That’s kinda why I
started following her, I just need to be near her.”
Joe continues. “You can’t
keep doing it, brother. Whatever way you look at it, you’re stalking her. She
probably wouldn’t be impressed – she’d be totally weirded out if she knew. Just
tell her how you feel. If you really want her, and she doesn’t like the work
situation, get another job or something. But stop with the stalking.”
“If that’s what it takes,
then that’s what I’ll do.”
“Damn, you’re serious,” I
state.
“I’ve never been more
serious about anything in my life,” Gerard says, reaching for his bourbon.
“Fuck that, I’ll gladly
stick to my own bullshit,” I say.