If you're all team Max, why is Sid still winnning I wonder?
“It’s a nice place.”
“It’s fucking huge is what it is,” I mutter, walking backwards with the measuring tape in my hands as Max holds it against the wall while gazing around like a tourist.
“It’s roomy,” he muses, that little grin of his tugging at the corner of his mouth telling me that he’s saying shit now just to fuck with me.
“I think they call it palatial, or monstrous,” I reply, glaring at him while he continues to act oblivious, staring up at the huge, gaudy chandelier hanging over the spot where the dining room table will go.
“It’s nicely appointed, tastefully decorated…,” he continues, and now I’m sure he’s just fucking with me.
“Yeah, nothing a little red velvet wallpaper won’t fix,” I reply, letting the tape go and sending it speeding back towards his hand.
“Red velvet wallpaper? Tabernak woman, I thought you had some taste,” he says wrinkling his nose at me. Raising my eyebrow, I shake my head before writing down the measurement we’ve just taken.
“This from all black leather and chrome boy?” I reply, cocking my head to once side while he nods in agreement.
“You may have a point,” he agrees with a smile before following me into the kitchen.
“I don’t understand this American fascination with taking refrigerators when people move,” I mutter as I stare at the stove trying to decide if I want to keep it and match it or get rid of it. “I’ve always wanted an Aga but you can’t really have those on the second floor. I don’t suppose Sidney would consider knocking the entire second floor off of the house a renovation?” I ask, looking hopefully towards Max who is now leaning against the island in the middle of the kitchen.
“You could gut the place and put the kitchen, dining room and living room downstairs and just have the bedrooms upstairs,” he nods, backing up to look around the corner towards the master bedroom.
“I wish you wouldn’t say that,” I sigh, pressing at what seems to have become a constant throbbing at my temple.
“What?” he asks, furrowing his brow as he watches me, curiously.
“Bedrooms…rooms…as in multiple, many. As in, if Sidney says ‘patter of little feet’ one more time, my fucking head is going to explode,” I explain, glancing towards the hall where I know there are four bedrooms, two bathrooms and an en-suite; bedrooms to be filled with little Sidney’s or Melody’s.
“Don’t you want kids?” Max asks, as if there can be no other answer to that, or maybe that’s just me. Maybe that’s just all I hear now; women should be barefoot and pregnant.
“Of course I do…or at least…I like a cute kid as much as the next girl, but…I’m twenty years old Max. It’s not like my biological clock is making any noise at all. You know?” I look over at him, hoping he’ll understand when no one else seems to.
Well, no one but Kensie. But then she hates Sidney so that hardly counts. “Why? Why does he want to have a family so desperately?” I ask, knowing that he hated being an only child for so long, that he’d wanted to have brothers, and all of that I can understand but what that has to do with having his own little brood….
“Progeneration?” Max shrugs. “I mean…we could die out there. We’re all one fucking icing race away from going head first into the boards and then…whap…dead. So…kids,” he answers and I have to give it to him. It sounds ridiculously plausible. “Et il obtient de dormer avec tu.” The last is said in a low whisper that I’m not sure I’m meant to hear, but it’s a big empty house on a quiet cul-de-sac with no traffic, no screaming kids (yet) and so I can’t help but hear it.
And so there it is, the giant ten foot pink rabbit in the room that we’ve been doing such a good job tip toeing around.
“Max…,” I begin, but his eyes, today the colour of still waters off the coast of white beach, meet mine and any words I intend to say about how that shouldn’t matter die on my lips. The look in his gaze is pure and raw and full of hunger and for a moment I feel like a gazelle in the tall grasses staring down a cheetah.
“I’m trying to be friends with both of you,” he says quietly, like the warning purr of a big cat just before it strikes. “Ce n’est pas facile, tu comprends? You’re always questioning your relationship with him and the way he treats you…fait mon ébullition de sang.” He stalks towards me just like a big cat, his gaze holding mine, slowly, carefully. Careful not to make me run, as if I could, frozen as I am to the spot as I watch those wide, round shoulders moving under the snug white t-shirt he’s wearing with the Ed Hardy design down the same side his tat is, and I keep thinking about those two designs moving over one another and my hands slipping along his ribs…. “You deserve better mon chère,” he says, his voice losing the threatening tone, the prey drive leaking from his gaze as he reaches up to cup my cheek, and yet I can’t stop staring at his full mouth, knowing how it feels to have those full lips moving insistently over mine.
“Max…stop,” I breathe, trying to make myself back up but there’s a counter behind me and all I’d have to do is get up onto the counter and he would be between my legs and….
“Je suis désolé.” Hanging his head he takes two steps back and I shut my eyes, willing the visions away. I’m in the house my fiancé has bought for us to bring our family up in and it’s the worst kind of violation of the idea of that to be having these thoughts here. “I can’t help it. How can I help thinking about the best night I’ve ever had in my life?” My heart stops beating as I open my eyes to look into his, storm tossed grey green now, sad and resigned as he shrugs those wide shoulders and holds his hands out in entreaty. “I won’t lie to you, ma petite. There it is. I can’t help thinking about it.”
“You have to,” I tell him as much as I’ve been telling myself. “You have to put it out of your mind. Like it didn’t happen,” I add, wanting to bridge the gap between us and grab his hands in mine so he can feel how hard my heart is beating in my chest. We can’t talk about this. It never happened. “Besides…it…it couldn’t have been the best night of your life. I didn’t know what I was doing and….” And there he is, quick, like a jungle cat, he has my face in his hands and his breathe tastes like mint and as I look into the deep blue ocean of his eyes I know he’s going to kiss me, if I let him, and I know that I can’t.
“Tu saves ce que tu faites à moi,” he breathes, his lips so close to mine. I put the flat of my hands against his chest, knowing I should be pushing him away but when I feel the truth of his words in the hammering of his big heart under the palm of my hand, I don’t. “Dites-moi que tu l’aimes. Dites-moi et je ne tu embraisserai pas.”
“I…I…love him,” I manage to stutter, feeling his chest heaving as he gulps for breath and fights for control and part of my brain is screaming at me to let him loose control, because I like when he loses control and something low in my belly clenches at the thought of him slamming me up against a wall and pressing his body against mine. “I love him Max. You know I do,” I whisper, staring back at him as my own chest rises and falls with quick shallow breaths I have to take to keep the musky smell of his skin and the spicy scent of his cologne from overcoming my defenses. “You’re my friend,” I add, which is the cold slap in the face that makes him growl and turn away, grabbing his leather jacket from the counter and rounding the corner, out of sight.
I hear his quick, hard footfalls on the stairs and then the entire house seems to shudder as he slams the front door. I remain motionless while I listen to him gun the engine of his sleek, dark car and only when I hear the squeal of rubber meeting pavement do I allow myself to actually breathe, turning to grab hold of the edge of the marble counter top, shutting my eyes tight as I scream.
Pale white, I trace Sidney’s shoulders in the moonlight with my eyes as he lies, comatose, on his stomach. He is hard, thick muscle everywhere, not an inch of softness anywhere. Not even that great big derriere of his, I know, having dug my fingers into it as I urged him deeper. I can see the livid welts now, marks my fingernails left behind, appearing dark blue in the moonlight.
Once and he’s out like a light; one, unsatisfying time.
I tried to tell him what I wanted, tried to direct him but it was like talking to a wall. He was so focused, as if some kind of haze filled his eyes, as if he wasn’t looking at or hearing me at all. Reaching down, I slide my hand between my thighs and probe at the tenderness he’s left behind in his wake. It doesn’t hurt, not exactly. It’s more of an ache; a deep, muscular ache.
He does look like a Pre-Raphaelite angel when he’s sleeping though, his full, pink lips slack, his long, thick eyelashes lying on his round cheeks. I brush his cheek with my fingertips and he smiles, as a child would do. A contended, sleepy sort of smile that makes me smile back at him, tender, maternal feelings making my chest tight as I run my fingers through his dark hair.
I feel his arm tighten around my waist and I look down at his thickly muscled arm where it’s thrown protectively across my stomach and watch with a certain amount of fascination as my body is pulled across the Egyptian cotton sheets towards him. He lets out a little murmur as my body slides against his and then he nuzzles my neck like a puppy and lets out a contented sigh before falling back into a deeper sleep once again, his breathing deep and regular.
I close my eyes but I know sleep isn’t going to come. My head is still swimming with too many emotions for sleep to be able to carry me away on her gossamer wings.
Guilt, for one. As much as Sidney’s single minded passion sweeps me along, having his six pack, his p chiseled chest moving over me sent my brain into overdrive and I kept seeing Max, but every time I tried to shut my eyes against the phantom in front of me, Sidney would grip my face hard in his hand and kiss me urgently, tell me to look at him and I would but I wouldn’t feel anything.
I don’t feel anything. When he’s inside me, I don’t feel anything but him slamming inside of me. I don’t feel heat or the rising wave of desire. I don’t feel any kind of warm honey glow filling me. I just want it to be over.
I tell myself it’s because of his…size. That my body just isn’t used to him but something in my head tells me that he should fit. That it should be like a key to a lock.
I keep waiting for the moment when I see stars, when my body burns with desire and that wave crashes over me and leaves me shuddering and crying in his arms. Max had laughed then. Not a cruel or even a funny laugh. More of the kind of laugh you have when you see something cute. He’d held me in his arms then and kissed my cheeks and told me it was normal, when it felt that…good.
Guilt. Squeezing my eyes tight I feel the hot sting of tears running down my cheeks and then I feel the pulse of a sob rushing up my throat and even grabbing the edge of a pillow and stuffing it in my mouth doesn’t stifle the sound of it altogether.
I feel Sidney stir beside me and I feel both of his arms snake around me and I feel his chest press against my back as he pulls me into him, his heavy leg sliding over mine and pulling me even closer. I feel his lips on my shoulder and I will myself to be still. I try to breathe through the tears. The last thing I want is to explain this to him. I wouldn’t hurt him for the world.
“Did you have a nightmare baby?” he asks, his voice thick and slurred with sleep.
“Mmmhmmm,” I mutter as his lips move to the back of my neck and I can’t help but sigh when he finds that spot, right at the nape of my neck and his teeth graze over it, making me shudder. His body responds, his dick hardening, thickening against the small of my back and I press back against him, encouraging him.
“You want me baby?” he chuckles, the reverberations of his voice making me shiver as his hands slide down my arms, his big, thick fingers lacing with mine.
“Yes, please Sidney,” I whisper. Better this time, I add silently as he rolls me onto my stomach, kneeling between my thighs. I feel him pushing inside of me and gasp. Christ if it was too tight before, from this angle, it’s impossible. I start to squirm but one firm hand on my waist and the other on the back of my neck, forcing my face down into the mattress and I can barely breathe, let alone struggle as he screws his way inside of me.
Relax, I tell myself. You’re so uptight about making it work, worrying about how it should feel that you’re not letting yourself feel, I tell myself.
Closing my eyes I chase all thought form my mind and concentrate on where he is joined with me, the long, thick, hard length of him buried deeply inside of me, stretching me. I feel him pull out until only the thickest part of him stays inside, and then he slides inside of me again and I can feel my muscles pulling and sucking alternatively, making way, tugging, holding him.
Max had reached around, found my clit, worked it until I couldn’t breathe. He’d made short shallow strokes. I’d been blind with need and then….
“Yeah baby, you like that don’t you?” Sidney’s fingers dig into my hip and I feel his body slamming against mine and I grab at him with my muscles, tightening and loosening and I feel that pressure beginning to build, that dull thud in my brain, that tingling at the base of my spine.
“Yes, Sidney, harder,” I beg, pushing back against him, feeling him respond, long, hard strokes that press me deeper into the mattress. I reach back myself, taking my pleasure into my own hands, sliding my hand up between my thighs and I press down on that little button as he slides into me and I hear myself saying his name over and over as he slams into me, harder and harder until I can’t hear anything past the blood surging in my veins.
“Oh god…yes! Fuuuuuckkkk!”
I feel him slam into me and stay there, both of his hands now digging into the soft flesh of my hips and I can feel his body pulsating inside of my own and I shut my eyes tight and massage my clit harder, rubbing it in small, frantic circles until I feel my muscles clamp around him and my entire body shudders and I collapse onto the bed, muttering incoherently and grinning like an idiot.
I did it. I came with him…or nearly. Near enough. It was good, pretty good, getting there at least.
“Mmm, you liked that didn’t you?” Sidney asks, pulling me back against him again, his body curling protectively around mine.
“It was good, yeah,” I smile, pulling his arm around me and resting my chin on his hand as it curls around mine. “Tired now though.”
“I was tired before,” he chuckles, nuzzling my neck, “but I’m glad you woke me up. That was nice,” he adds, his body relaxing around mine.
“Yeah, it was,” I agree, taking in and letting out a long, deep breath. “I love you Sidney,” I add in a whisper, snuggling back into him and shutting my eyes.
“I love you Mel,” he whispers back, his voice already thick with sleep. I press my lips to his scarred knuckles and then, with a contended sigh, surrender to the beat of sleep’s gossamer wings.