My Alexander looked different. Haunted. He’d lost weight. His hair was long and salty. His skin was dark with sun. He smelled of sunshine and moonlight and sea salt, along with the slightest hint of whiskey. And there, in the base notes, that minted scent that was pure Alexander. He wore only a pair of worn shorts that were frayed at the edges, slightly dirty, that hung low on his lean hips. He looked, in a word, human.
And more beautiful than ever before.
He was very quiet. He seemed overcome. Dazed.
I wrapped my arms and my legs around him. I kissed his face. I buried my fingers in his beachy hair. I kissed his mouth. Slow, careful kisses. Communicating my love for him. Kisses that turned slippery and lust-sweet. He let me kiss him and I could feel in him the awe, which gave way to an unbridled hunger. Our hands were everywhere, slow and grasping. Greedy and worshipful.
“You just can’t do that to me, honey girl,” he murmured.
He was astoundingly hard, blindly finding his way inside. I was wet but tight and he thrust hotly into me, the full-fledged drive of big, insatiable man, gaining entry until he was deep, so deep. He sobbed my name and I kissed him again, sucking softly on his tongue as I drew myself around him, milking him with my body, loving him with everything I had. He groaned with tormented relief and lost himself, filling me in warm, flooding bursts.
I kissed him for a long time, playing his hair, touching his face. I kissed his neck, his arms. I let him slip out of me and felt the pool of his release spill in a trickling line down my thigh. Working my way down his chest, I nipped and kissed him, taking my time, savoring every inch of him. He watched me, his eyes dark. Shadowed circles under his eyes, like bruises, showed his exhaustion. His hands stroked my hair.
I kissed his stomach, every inch. I took his half-softened shaft in my hands, kissing him, taking him into my mouth.
I would tell him I loved him a million times. Right now, I wanted to show him. To feel him.
I used my hands and my mouth to worship him. I let my tongue rove, my lips pull and take and explore. I sucked on the head of his cock, pressing my tongue to the slit, teasing. I touched him everywhere with playful fingers, until he became fully, immensely hard again. He pulled me up onto the pillows and laid himself heavily on top of me. He took control, taking my mouth in scorching kisses, his tongue ravaging me with covetous, intimate plunges. His muscular leg slid between mine, forcing my legs apart. The head of his cock parted me, pulsing with need. I wrapped my legs around him, aching for more but he held. That look in his eyes, of domination and lust, of understanding and sorrow, of a love so profound I thought it might break us both, brought tears to my eyes. He slid deeper, teasing me with shallow plunges, stirring his cock inside me. I tilted my hips up to him, wanting more, needing all of him, digging my fingernails into him. He pinned me down and lunged deep, forcing me to take all of him in one savage drive. His growl was animalistic. I cried out from the aggressive, heated, spreading fullness. His hands cupped my ass, pulling me even closer as he forced himself deeper still, plunging relentlessly, driving vicious pleasure into me until we cried each other’s names and came together in voluptuous, harmonized surges.
Alexander kissed me, eating at my mouth, plunging with his tongue as he continued to thrust into me until I came again, the lush spasms long and brimming.
We lay there, connected, locked in an entwined, soul-touching embrace, my core still fluttering wetly around his deeply-insinuated bulk, cradling him, loving him. His eyes searching my own.
“Where were you?” he said, his voice rasped.
“I went to my mother’s grave. I needed to. Then I ended up in North Carolina. I worked in a restaurant for a week, as a waitress.”
His eyebrows rose a little. “Has it been a week?”
“Two weeks.” He considered this.
“Jake’s worried about you. You wouldn’t answer your phone.”
“I just remembered what happened to it. I threw it in the ocean.”
I furrowed my eyebrows at him, scolding him silently. “Why?”
“You wouldn’t answer me.”
God, how I loved him. I touched my fingers to his face. To the dark shadows under his eyes. “That was you? I kept getting messages from someone named A. I wasn’t sure who it was.”
He put his mouth to my ear, biting the soft flesh of my earlobe until I squirmed.
“I need you,” he whispered, rocking his hips and sliding into me again, his fingers searching and pushing into the puckered cove of my ass, which was slippery from his overflowing cum. He may have been weakened and exhausted, but he was still as strong as a bull.
“I tried to call you,” I gasped as the rhythm of his double-pronged invasion gained momentum, reigniting the ripples of my still-ebbing orgasm, until I came again, my clenching, writhing body sucking him deeper, making him harder. Still coming, I breathed, “I love you, A. I love you so much. I missed you so much.” I was crying again, from the exquisite cocktail of overflowing pleasure and heady, beautiful love.
“Don’t run from me, honey. I just can’t handle that.”
“We’ll figure everything out. Give me a chance to figure it out. Give me a chance.”
God, he didn’t even know. I’d forgotten: he didn’t know.
I held his face. I wasn’t sure if he might be disappointed, somewhere deep inside. “There’s no baby, Alexander. She made it up. To break us apart.”
He stared down at me, the lines of his face severe. “What?”
“Jake made her take a court-ordered pregnancy test. She’s not pregnant. She was never pregnant.”
He went silent, his expression unreadable. “Holy shit.”
“Are you okay?”
His focus was searingly intense. “Of course I’m okay. I’m fucking overjoyed.” God, he was thrusting into me again, that big, rock-hard cock sliding in and out, the thick, bold friction delicious, flawless, divine. He slid deep and held. He kissed my lips. “I want babies with you, sweet girl. You. Oh my god, I can’t believe it. All that, for nothing. Lila, Jesus. Will you marry me now? Will you? Now?”
“You know what today is?” I said.
“My birthday. November ninth.”
He smiled, that heart-breaking smile that lit up his face. “I’m going to marry you on your birthday, honey girl, that’s what I’m going to do. I love you. I need you. Please marry me. Today.”
I kissed him, rocking against him, holding him close, taking him deep.
The pleasure was too much. We were addicted, starved for each other. Frantic and insatiable.
Bonded and bound.