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She looks at me, tears brimming her eyes and fuck, now shame washes over me. Shame for having hurt her—and left her at her most vulnerable. No wonder she’s insecure about my job—that probably only reflects how she feels about me in general. And I have this weekend to show her I can do better. Be better—for her.
She wipes the tears from her eyes, and shakes her head. “Okay. I don’t want to talk about it now. It’s just… a lot.”
“Understood. Can I give you a hug?” I ask, my voice hoarse with emotion.
She nods, and I sit next to her, and put my arms around her, and pull her close. She acquiesces, and rests her head on my shoulder, and when I hear her let out a long sigh, I feel that in my soul. There’s still tension. There’s still doubts.
But somehow, this contact without a sexual agenda, even though we’re naked, has a power of its own. It’s a warm energy that bounces between us, pulling us closer, trapping us in a bubble. Slowly, I exhale too, and with it, it’s like a heavy backpack being lifted from my shoulders. I hold her tighter, and she circles her arms around my neck.
“What if I need more than a hug?” she whispers, shifting until she can see me.
“I’ll give you anything you want,” I say, looking at her square in the eye.
Her gaze falls to my mouth, and she wraps her legs around my waist. When I offered a hug, I didn’t have any sexy intentions, but right now it’s about what she wants. What she needs. And I’m ready to give it to her—always.
This promise fires me up inside, and I dip my head, crushing my lips on hers and swiping my tongue into her mouth like we’re on a time crunch. She clenches her legs around me tighter, and slides on my lap so there’s nothing between us. My cock is dangerously close to her entrance, the thick head poking at her.
A rush of blood surges through me so fast, I have to draw in a deep breath and center myself so I don’t lose balance.
With an urgency that challenges me to the core, I thrust inside her, and it’s like I haven’t been in her soaking wet pussy in forever. My cock grows even harder, a growing throb in my balls. She gasps, running her fingers up and down my shoulder, scratching my skin, branding me with her nails.
She moves her hips, and this is possibly the closest we’ve ever been. My gaze doesn’t let go of hers, not even for one second. There is a strong tide of affection coursing between us, a current neither of us can deny.
“I love you,” I say, the words pouring out of me, even if my last shred of common sense warns me to wait. This isn’t the right time. Not without talking things through first. Yet, emotion claws its way to my heart, and I feel like I won’t be able to breathe if I don’t say it again and again. “I love you.” I impale her harder, so much so that she gasps. I put my hand on her lower back, pressing it, and keep on fucking her with hard, deep thrusts.
She jerks herself forward, her inner walls contracting around me, then she lets go, her limbs quivering, cheeks flushed, and a long winded moan slicing the air. “I…” she starts, and just her voice, just the idea that she could still love me sends me over the edge.
I come, spilling my hot load inside her, my upper body jerking, legs shaking under my weight. This is it. This is heaven—and this time, I won’t be fool enough to let go.
10
Eliza
I scanthe large living room filled with black and gold balloons, arrangements of tulips spread through the area, along with strings of pearl necklaces adorning the tables giving them an elegant, old world feel. Jessie sure went out of her way to decorate for Mimi’s Birthday dinner celebration. We ate in the dining area and now many of us sing happy birthday to her, loud and cheerful, and there’s so much warmth in the room that Mimi’s eyes twinkle with joy, her cheeks flush.
The serene energy fills my chest, and I reach for Beck’s hand, who’s standing next to me, and give it a small squeeze. He squeezes me back, then winks at me.
Tonight is our last night together.
Last night, he told me he loved me.
I’m sure it was in the heat of the moment. He couldn’t have meant it, right? My heart skips a beat at the memory of how he looked at me. The flicker of hope, of determination in his eyes when he said those words—and repeated them, over and over, until I could no longer take it, and exploded in a powerful orgasm that makes me tingle just to think about it.
Then a pang of apprehension crosses my chest.
What will the end of this weekend look like?
I started this as a way to do a last favor to him, and now he’s saying he still loves me. If it’s true, does it mean no more divorce? Or did he just say that because he wants to procrastinate signing on the dotted line? I blink a few times, willing to remove myself from this mental trance. Gosh, when did I get so cynical?
Beck would not fool me like that… right? He wouldn’t say he loved me unless he really felt it.
“Eliza,” Beck says, and lets go of my hand, as he gestures at Mimi who’s walking over to talk to us.
The waitstaff is cutting and serving birthday cake, and some guests are chatting and enjoying themselves. I see the caretaker follow Mimi, with her perpetual helpful look on her face.
“Mimi,” Beck says. “Dinner was great.”
“I’m glad, dear,” she says. “You should try the red velvet cake. My favorite. Enjoy as many slices as you want, because once you’re my age,” she says, then shrugs, giving a sideways glance to her caretaker. “You have to watch out.”
