His kiss was like a warm blanket on a cold day. I welcomed his weight on me again, his arms wrapped around me. His thigh was pressing in between mine, his hands running through my hair.
He moaned and looked up. “I’ve missed you,” he said, smiling.
“Same,” I said, reaching up to kiss his beautiful lips. My body was craving him but I couldn’t bring myself to go any further than kiss him. Part of me was still feeling hesitant.
He reached under my shirt, stroking my stomach. I’d missed his hands on my body more than I had anticipated. Sliding down a little, he began to shower my skin with soft kisses; his tongue tickling my stomach. I curled my toes in response. As his mouth started to travel further south, just grazing the top of my jeans, I bit my lower lip.
“Want to take a bath?” he asked, stopping abruptly.
“What, now?” I retorted, coming back to my senses. His chin was resting on my hips and he was looking up at me with puppy dog eyes. He nodded.
“I figure you owe me,” he said, pushing himself back up. “Our last one was cut short.”
I remembered our last bath together, how could I forget? Though the idea of bathing with him was far more than appealing, the thought of him seeing my cramped, ridiculously old bathroom wasn’t.
“I don’t know, Devon,” I said. “Compared to yours, my bathroom is—,”
“—Does it have running water?” he asked, mocking me. I rolled my eyes at him. “Then let’s go. You get the wine and I’ll take care of the bath.”
He stood up, taking my hand and pulled me out of our comfy crevice.
Without looking too excited, I walked to the kitchen and retrieved two glasses and a bottle of Pinot Grigio. I walked to the bathroom door, stopping to take a deep breath—I couldn’t understand why I was suddenly so nervous. We’d seen each naked, so it couldn’t be that. We’d had sex, more than once, so again, that couldn’t be the reason.
I could hear the water running into the tub.
Maybe it was the combination of several things. Since he’d shown up, we hadn’t spoken about much. Taken over by my emotions—fueled by his mere presence—we’d simply let our bodies take over. Now, I realized, we were yet again where we had been a few weeks prior, with no clear definition of what this was and of what we were getting ourselves into. I’d presumed we were going to start from scratch and talk about the ramifications of being in a relationship together. Instead, we’d only found one another’s lips.
“Are you coming?” he shouted from the other side of the door. I shook off my doubts and decided this was something we could discuss later on. For now, I wouldn’t let it interfere with what was promising to be a great evening.
I opened the door and nearly dropped the bottle. I couldn’t know how he’d done it, but Devon had managed to transform my crappy bathroom into a romantic sanctuary. Several candles were lit—I didn’t even know I’d owned so many candles—and he had run a bubble bath.
I looked at him, amazed.
“I got crafty,” he said and shrugged.
He took the bottle and glasses from me and placed them on the counter. “Go ahead, get naked.” I giggled at his bluntness but obeyed and took off my clothes, while he poured the wine. “Get in,” he said, handing me a glass.
Again, I did as he said.
The water was the perfect temperature, as I stepped into it, the scent of coconut and something unknown consuming my senses.
“Aren’t you joining me?” I asked, sitting down, letting the water envelop me.
“Absolutely,” he answered, taking off his shirt. “I just wanted to see you wet and soapy first.”
I blushed as I watched him undress. The flames from the candles flickered as if in reaction to his gorgeousness. His muscles looked even more defined than before.
Gently, he stepped into the bath, facing me.
“Here’s to another wonderful weekend,” he said, raising his glass to mine. I looked at him surprised. “I was hoping I could stay a few days.” His face was sublime as he grinned at me, knowing I wouldn’t turn him down. I smiled as we clinked glasses. “Unless you’ve got plans, that is.”
“No plans,” I admitted.
“Perfect, then you’re all mine.”
He put his glass down on the edge of the tub and moved in closer. His hands ran up my legs, stopping at my hips. His face was inches from mine, my pulse quickened. I licked my lips and bit down. He placed his lips on my neck, making his way down to my collarbone. He set small kisses all over my skin, the heat from the bath making me all the more sensitive to his touch. He then moved lower, his tongue licking my breasts. He reached my nipple, taking it into his mouth, alternating between sucking and biting. The feeling nearly made me drop my glass. I moaned.
He looked up at me, his eyes dark as if they were mirroring the growing passion I was now feeling. I wanted him but relished the slow way he was teasing me. I wasn’t in any hurry—let him take his time. As he continued to kiss and bite me, his hand moved in between my legs, which were pinned open by his. He moved his finger over me, slowly. The anticipation was making it hard for me to breath.
“Devon,” I said, his name escaping my mouth as a plea.
“I know, baby,” he responded. “You owe me, remember?” He laughed a teasing laugh as my eyes shot open. I shook my head, surrendering to his control. In this situation, I didn’t mind being in his debt.
He sat back, taking me with him. I sat, straddling him, his hands holding my butt firmly, pulling me against him. I rubbed myself on him, finding his lips. Our tongues intertwined, the heat from the candles, and the water, rising.
I hovered over his erection feeling like I couldn’t wait any longer. I felt his hips rise, reaching for me; him wanting to be in me as much as I did. I reached down, taking him in my hand and pushed him within me. I sat down hard and we both let out loud moans that echoed in the small room. Thrusting up and down, he matched my rhythm. With every drive downwards, I could feel my muscles tighten, the passion becoming overwhelming.
He moved his hands to my breasts, taking each in one hand, massaging. I could feel my orgasm beckoning release but did not want it to end quite yet. I fucked him harder and harder as if my body was reminding him how good we were together—as if the torment I’d gone through over the last few weeks was coming out of me in one, intense moment.
His hands grabbed my hips, driving me down onto him more and more forcefully. My hands reached around his neck, grabbing his hair, pulling his head back. I could feel his fingers digging into my skin, the slight pain making me plunge onto him harder. Slamming into him one final time, arching my back, I came, loudly, as did he.
After a few minutes of lying still, resting my head on his shoulder, I pulled away. We sat face to face again, his hands massaging my feet, and smiled at each other.
“Hungry?” he asked.
“Starved,” I said the elation of sex fading. My stomach growled, as if on cue, and I realized I hadn’t eaten in hours.
“Let’s go out.”
I shrugged my shoulders. The idea of leaving the comfort of my apartment—let alone the bath—wasn’t entirely tempting. Lately, I’d been in such a slump, eating had not been one of my biggest priorities.
“Come on,” he said, nudging my leg. “We’ll find a nice restaurant, celebrate a little.”
“Like a date?” I teased. The thought of Devon and I going someplace, and remaining fully clothed all the while, made me laugh. I had been so caught up in the complications of a possible relationship; I hadn’t even stopped to consider being in a relationship and doing relationship-type things: like going on a date.
“Sure, why not?” He stepped out of the tub and wrapped a towel around his waist. I soon stepped out letting him envelop me.
We headed down the block, towards the main boulevard. I still had no idea where we could go, seeing as I had only ever been to the extremely high priced restaurants that Paul would take me or really cheap fast-food places. I wanted somewhere more casual, more intimate, and of course, a place that wouldn’t remind me of my ex.
We turned the corner and Devon reached for my hand. The initial shock of it surprised me as I jerked my hand away. Then, hoping I hadn’t made a complete ass of myself, I reached for his again. He smiled as he took it.
“This looks good,” he said, as we stopped in front of a restaurant that looked rustic and cozy and served Italian.
La Cucina was a small, quaint little hole-in-the-wall type place, but it felt perfect for us. We were seated towards the back at a little table tucked away in a corner. We ordered some wine, which was served alongside a basket of warm bread. I nibbled on a piece and became aware of the silence between Devon and me. It wasn’t exactly awkward, really, but it didn’t feel right, either.
He smiled at me, taking a sip of wine.
I thought about earlier that day and how we had let the enormous topic of my grandmother’s diary take a back seat. For obvious reasons, our desire for each other had been hard to control and had been quite a distraction. Now, however, sitting in the dim dining room, surrounded only by soft Tuscan music and the chatter of a handful of people, the topic started to resurface in my thoughts.
“Be honest,” I said. “If you hadn’t read that part of her journal, would you have still come to see me?”
He seemed caught off guard by my question. He put his piece of bread down on the plate and brushed the crumbs off his hand.
“Probably not,” he answered, directly. He reached across the table and took my hand in his, “At least, not so soon.” He refilled my glass with the Chianti. “Valerie kept pressuring me, almost every day. I knew I’d eventually come to see you, but figured it would take some time. I can be pretty stubborn.” He laughed and the sound warmed my heart. “When she showed me the page I tried to ignore it, but after a while, I knew I had to do something.”
“But what if it hadn’t made a difference,” I asked, “For me?”
I gave him a noncommittal shrug. He furrowed his brow and remained quiet. I watched him, lost in thought, and wondered where his mind was running off to. Our food arrived, the waiter interrupting our silence asking if we wanted Parmesan and pepper. Wanting neither, I thanked him and kept waiting for Devon to speak. He began to eat and I had to surrender to the fact that maybe, for tonight, the topic would be kept in limbo. The food was delicious and kept us preoccupied for a little while.
“I would have waited,” Devon suddenly said. I looked up, unsure he had actually spoken. “If you had told me it didn’t change anything, I would have waited until it did.”
I looked at him as he continued eating. He had said it so casually as if he had been commenting on his Ravioli. His determination was like anything I had ever seen before and as I looked at him, trying to understand just how I felt about the entire situation, I knew that no matter what, he wouldn’t go away easily. Not that I wanted him to.
“Elle, your food’s getting cold,” he said, catching me staring.
I smiled and returned to my plate.
After dinner, we walked back to my place, full and satiated. We wrapped our arms around each other’s waists, partly due to having finished two bottles of wine, partly just because we wanted to touch each other. The feeling of being next to him, walking like an old couple would do, made me feel at ease. I welcomed the happiness I now felt.
When we arrived at my front door, Devon’s lips were already on my neck. I fiddled with my keys, having trouble focusing and finding the right one. We were so busy ripping off each other’s clothes we barely made it into the apartment. I led him to my bedroom, not even bothering to turn on the lights or to close the curtains.
Devon playfully pushed me onto the bed, the room briefly spinning from the rush of falling backward. He watched me, still wearing his jeans and nothing else. He removed my pants then my underwear. He bent my knees, his face soon between my thighs. I let out a low groan. His lips gently grazed the insides of my legs, the soft bristle of his slight beard tickling me. The heat was rising as I felt his tongue lightly hover. The pleasure of it made me squirm, as I looked down at him—his green eyes staring at me from just above my stomach.
“Don’t move,” he said, wrapping his hands around my legs, keeping me motionless. It was hard for me not to stir from his touch, but the way he’d commanded me made me eager to please him. I stayed as still as I could.
He picked up where he left off, his tongue lapping lightly then with added force. Quicker than I’d ever been brought there, my orgasm began. I could feel my body tensing, my legs starting to shake ever so slightly. He held me tighter, his hands pulling further down onto my thighs, raising me higher into his mouth. I screamed in response, moaning and yelling out his name. I reached above my head, grabbing the bars of my wrought iron bed frame.
Then, I heard knocking at my front door. Devon stopped, if only for a second. I was moments away from my climax, but the knocking continued. He stopped again.
“Ignore it,” I panted, pushing his head back down.
But the knocking didn’t stop. Soon I could hear someone shouting through my front door.
“Fuck!” I snapped. I looked down at Devon who had pulled away. “It’s my neighbor.” I reluctantly got out of bed. “Sorry.”
I slipped into my bathrobe and quickly opened the door to find little Mrs. Benson, in mid-knock.
“Yes?” I snapped.
“Is everything alright?” she asked, looking over my shoulder into my apartment.
“Fine, why?” I closed the door slightly, trying to block her view.
“I thought I heard some screaming,” she looked genuinely concerned, which is the only reason I didn’t burst out laughing. “I was about to call the cops.”
I knew our bedrooms shared a wall but had never known it to be so paper-thin. Sadly, I noted, this had never been an issue before seeing as no one had ever made me scream as loud. I tried to hide my blush.
Grinning, I reassured her that everything was absolutely perfect. She nodded, still not looking completely convinced. She took one more peek into my apartment and, not seeing anything of concern, she wished me a goodnight before returning home.
I found Devon sprawled on my bed, his arm bent behind his head, staring at the ceiling.
“Sorry about that,” I said, crawling into bed beside him. I gave him a kiss and rested my head on his chest. “She’s a nosy woman.”
“She is,” he said, shifting his weight, so that I was on my side, my back to him. His lips made contact with my ear. “Now, where were we?”
He moved his body down a little then grabbed my thigh, raising my leg above his head, taking me from behind. This time, though, he seemed more determined. His mouth devoured me. I ran my fingers through his hair, grabbing as much as I could, steadying him. It took me mere moments to reach the peak of my awaiting orgasm.
I was out of breath as he kissed my belly, moving his way up to rest his head on my chest. As his body lay wedged between my legs, I could still feel my insides convulsing.
Soon, I felt his body relax and realized he had fallen asleep. The weight of his body on mine, combined with the heat still lingering, made me incredibly drowsy. My fingers played in his hair, admiring the beautiful copper color. I felt him shift ever so slightly.
Shortly after, exhausted by my afternoon, I drifted off to sleep myself.