“I wrote that ad campaign the moment I learned the perfume’s name. I saw you running away from me. I saw you making excuses, thinking you weren’t good enough. Thinking you didn’t deserve happiness in your life. But I knew better. I knew you’d round that corner and ask me to keep you. That’s what you always needed, Bailey. Someone who wouldn’t comply. Someone who wouldn’t let you push him out. And I’m sorry I wasn’t that someone for you all those many months ago. But I’m that someone now. And I’m not going anywhere.”
I flung my arms around his neck and pressed my lips to his. He opened his mouth to mine, kissing me hungrily. I thought I’d forgotten what it felt like, but his lips were like the familiar, worn sweater—soft and warm. And cherished. I wanted to kiss him forever, but I needed his words. I needed him to say it.
I pulled away. “Marry me. Tell me you’ll marry me, Reece.”
“I’ll marry you, Bailey. And I’ll be married to you for the rest of my life.”
This time I jumped on him and wrapped my legs around his waist. I was desperate for his love. I was desperate to be naked against him. I needed him in me, filling me with all the sweetness I’d missed out on for so long. I needed the emptiness filled with his promises of forever. I needed the safety of his arms. I didn’t need any more words. I just needed his touch.
He carried me to the bed and collapsed on top of me. Ahhh the weight of him! I’d missed the weight of those muscles, so easy to bend and break me, but he never did. He was careful. Cradling me, not pinning me. Asking. Not demanding. Though I wouldn’t mind if he demanded.
“Bailey?” His voice was ragged and hoarse.
“Do whatever you want!” I cried, and I meant it.
“I don’t know what I want! That’s the problem.”
I was confused.
“Do I rip your clothes off? Do I take them off slowly? Do I kiss you? Bite you? Do I put you on top? Do I get on top of you? Do I . . .”
I smiled, listening to his list. It was a long list. And it was Reece. The same old Reece who found himself talking way too much when he was nervous. It was precisely what we needed to temper the intensity of the moment. Why? It’s simple. We’d had enough intense moments to satisfy for years to come. I thought I needed passion. All I really needed was silly, nervous Reece.
“. . . Do I eat you out on the bed, the table, the floor? Do I tie you up? Tie you down? Punish you? Reward you? Do I—”
I kissed him hard. Our teeth struck, and I tasted blood. But I kept kissing him. I violated his mouth with my tongue, tasting the faint remnants of whiskey—his pre-game energizer. I smiled against his lips thinking of that shot. Thinking of him standing at the bar saying to himself, “You’re fucking Reece Powell. Now go get her!”
I pulled away.
“You’re not gonna do any of those things,” I said, my voice low and sultry.
“I’m not?”
“Nope.”
“And why’s that?” he asked.
My mouth curled into a naughty grin. “Because I’m taking over this entire operation.”
“Oh?”
“Oh, yes,” I replied. “Now take your pants off. And be quick about it.”
He showed me all his teeth with that smile.
“You’re amazing,” he breathed.
“No, you are,” I replied.
I watched him slide out of his shorts, then stand in front of me, waiting for further instruction.
“Underwear,” I said.
He slithered out of those, too, and I looked at what I’d been missing for six months. Six long, hard months.
I knelt in front of him. It seemed like the appropriate position. I imagined I’d ask for forgiveness by means of the most explosive blow job he’d ever had. He deserved it. And I thought suddenly that I deserved it, too. I deserved him. After all these months of working on bettering myself, of learning to love me and to let others love me, I deserved him.
“I deserve you, Reece,” I said, wrapping my tiny hand around his shaft.
“Yes, you do, Bailey,” he replied.
He closed his eyes in anticipation of my lips, my tongue. It darted out and licked the tip of his penis. He hissed. I licked that soft spot right under his head, and he moaned.
“I deserve every bit of you,” I said. “And you deserve every bit of this.”
I took him in my mouth, swirling my tongue around the tip before pushing farther down. I wanted to choke on him—on the love I gave him—and pass out in a state of sweet ecstasy.
“Bailey,” he breathed, his hands folded over my head. In reverence.
I stroked him with my hand to the rhythm of my mouth—long, slippery strokes that twisted my hair and elicited moans. I concentrated on giving him the pleasure he needed. It took me six months, but I learned how to love. Sounds simple enough, but love isn’t about you. It’s about the person you love. And once my heart understood, it freed me from . . . me.
“Bailey, I’m coming,” Reece whispered. “Oh God, I’m coming!”
He exploded in my mouth. Built-up love. Too much love. I-can’t-swallow-all-of-this love. Hit-the-back-of-my-throat-and-make-me-gag love. I spit up everywhere, coughing and spluttering and squealing. It wasn’t the sexy finale I wanted. I wanted to take his come elegantly—can you take someone’s come in your mouth elegantly?—and swallow it like a saucy vixen.
“Oh, Bailey,” Reece said, chuckling. “Do you want some help?”
“Help with what?” I asked, cupping my chin. Drool and semen leaked from the corners of my mouth.
He held up his hands and shrugged.
“I need practice,” I said, walking to the bathroom. He followed, standing in the doorway and watching me clean up the mess on my face. “It’s been a while. Obviously.”
“I’m glad,” he replied.
I threw away the toilet paper and turned to him.
“You are, huh?”
“Yes. And I suppose you figured out that it’s been a while for me, too?”
I giggled. “Well, you did come pretty fast, and I ain’t that good.”
“You’re better than you realize,” he said.
We stared at each other.
“I was never with anyone else,” he said. “Not one.”
“Me neither,” I replied.
“My only regret?”
I held my breath.
“Not coming to you sooner,” he said. “I hope you’re prepared for a week-long shut-in. We’ve got a lot of catching up to do.”
I laughed. “Already took the time off of work?”
He shrugged. “I took a chance.”
“Paid off.”
“Yes, it did,” he replied.
“I guess I should put my request in then.”
“You better.” He paused and smiled. “Your face is glowing.”
“I swallowed some of your come,” I explained.
“Is that what it does?”