Eight
D AN IS URGENT. HUNGRY . More intense than I’ve ever seen him—almost shocking in such a seemingly laid-back man.
It’s the wee hours of the morning, and I had more to drink earlier this evening than I almost ever do. But it’s been hours now with no alcohol, and all the feelings in my body are overriding any sort of natural fatigue.
I’m wired. Alive. And desperately reaching out to be closer to Dan at last.
I need it. Like the air I’m sucking into my lungs.
Dan is so into the kiss that he steps me back until my body meets the wall of the entryway. He uses the support to push into me, deepening the kiss with his tongue, arching his neck down so his mouth can meet mine.
Pressure coils tight behind my eyes and between my legs as I wrap my arms around him and try to climb higher up his body.
He helps by cupping my bottom and lifting, holding me against the wall as he works over my mouth from a more advantageous position. My legs wrap around his waist automatically, securing my stability. He’s making soft, hungry sounds that feed my arousal with the raw, primitive sound of them.
He’s losing himself in this kiss. Every bit as much as I am.
I don’t have a wide and varied sexual history—just Rick and a couple of short-lived things my first year in college. I’ve enjoyed sex just fine. Occasionally it was surprisingly great. But until I met Dan, I genuinely believed that getting swept away by passion was the stuff of fiction and fantasy.
But my mind on that is entirely changed now.
We kiss like that, Dan holding me up on the wall and my legs wrapped tightly around him. I’m squeezing him to the rhythm of the thrusting of his tongue. He’s noticeably hard in his pants, and the feel of it is turning me on even more.
After what feels like a long time, Dan finally pulls his mouth away, panting and searching my face with hot, gray eyes. “You’re not drunk, are you?”
“No. I haven’t had anything for hours.”
“And you really want this?”
“Yes! How can you even ask?”
“I mean all the way,” he says in a thick, breathless voice. “Not only with your body.”
There’s a pause as I process what he’s asking, and the tidal wave of emotion it evokes fills me, overwhelms me, strengthens my physical arousal. “Not just my body,” I respond in a cracked whisper. “All the way.”
He makes a weird, hoarse huff and kisses me again, getting a better grip on my ass and then carrying me over to the closest bed, which happens to be his.
He lays me down on top of the covers, toeing off his shoes before climbing over me, straddling my body and then leaning down to kiss me again.
He’s holding most of his weight off me, but I still love the feel of him above me. I rock my hips up into it as I pull him down closer. Heat and intensity radiate off his body, and I crave it like a drug.
I need so much more of it.
We kiss until I’m so aroused I can’t stop squirming beneath him. Finally I turn my head to the side so I can say, “Dan, will you please hurry your ass up? I’m dying here.”
He collapses into laughter on top of me, his body shaking and huffs of amusement blowing against my skin. “I thought it might be rude or insensitive to short-change the foreplay.”
“In this case, it’s ruder to string me along forever when it feels like I might erupt.”
He’s still chuckling as he gets up and starts pulling off his clothes. I take advantage of the opportunity to strip off my mystical bridal robe, bra, and sandals.
We stare at each other for a minute afterward since it’s the first time we’re really seeing each other naked. Dan’s body is exactly as I would have imagined—long and lean and fit and strong and sexily natural with a sprinkling of chest hair and a trail leading down to the waistband of the gray boxer briefs he’s still wearing.
I gulp, focusing down at the bulge in the fabric. “Take them off,” I say without thinking.
He’s flushed with rumpled hair and a tension in his muscles I can see even from this distance. He does as I say, pulling off his underwear, leaving them on the floor, and then straightening up to check my expression before his eyes slip down to my naked breasts.
He’s fully erect—a good size but nothing intimidating. Everything I could ever want in a man.
“You too,” he murmurs gruffly.
My hands are shaking slightly as I shimmy out of my underwear, leaving me as naked as he is.
His eyes crawl over my body as he climbs back onto the bed, but he pauses before he gets on top of me again. “Do you want me to use protection? I did bring some condoms.”
I choke on surprised laughter. “Kind of presumptuous, weren’t you?”
“No! It was just in case. Wishful thinking.”
“I’m teasing.” I reach out toward him, pleased when he moves over immediately. “We don’t need a condom. I’m still on birth control.”
“Okay.” He’s smiling—warm and intimate—as he makes room for himself between my legs and props himself just above me. “I can’t believe we’re having a real wedding night.”
“I know.” I can’t seem to help smiling too. “Who would have thought?”
He kisses me again, and this time nothing comes between us or slows us down. We kiss deeply, Dan’s erection folded between our bodies, until neither of us can hold back any longer. He lifts up for long enough to line himself up at my entrance. I bend my legs and widen my stance to make more room for him, and both of us groan as he edges inside me.
Panting and shifting above me slightly, he leans down to kiss me again.
I want to kiss him back, but it’s hard to focus. The tight fullness of the penetration is overwhelming everything for me. I gasp. Adjust my feet and try to relax.
It doesn’t take long for me to breathe through it, my inner muscles relaxing around him and the tension softening in my mind and body.
I twine my arms around him, squeezing him in a quick hug.
It must surprise him because he lifts his head to check my face, smiling back when I smile up at him. “You feel okay?” he asks.
“I feel way better than okay.”
He presses a quick kiss on my lips. “Good. Me too.”
We take a minute to shift slightly and get in the positions we want. Then he begins to thrust with a steady, satisfying rhythm that’s vigorous enough to jiggle the extra flesh in my breasts and thighs and disarrange my hair.
Nothing has ever felt better. More primally needed, deep in my core. I rock my hips up to meet his thrusts, urging him on until he speeds up even more.
I’m on the cusp of orgasm improbably soon. I grind myself against him as I make soft, helpless sounds.
“Oh fuck,” he rasps. “You gonna come already.”
“Yeah.” I arch my spine and neck. “Yes!”
He speeds up even more, and it’s enough to push me over the edge. I make silly, sobbing sounds as the pleasure surges through me.
Dan chokes on a groan as I shake and clench around him. His features twist in a visible effort to control himself.
When the orgasm starts to fade, I gasp and relax, realizing that Dan is still hard inside me.
“Look at you go,” I say.
He lets out a loud burst of amusement and then chokes on a cough, turning his face away. “Fuck, Vicky, don’t make me laugh.”
I can’t help but giggle, and we’re both smiling as he rearranges us so he’s on his back and I’m straddling his hips. It takes some minor maneuvering to get his erection inside me again, but soon I’m riding him from above.
Being on top has never been my favorite position, but there’s something intoxicating about the way he’s gazing up at me. Like he’s never seen anything better or more beautiful. Like I’m everything to him.
Everything.
The sensation fills my heart even more than my body, although arousal is already coiling tight inside me again.
“Vicky,” Dan says with a lot of gravel in his voice.
“Yeah.” I’m not sure what my answer means, but it’s the only thing I can say right now.
He shifts his head against the pillow. His eyes are deep and full. “Vicky, I don’t want this to be another onetime thing.”
“I don’t want that either.” I’m touched and hoarse and starting to tremble a little, leaning over with my hands on his shoulders.
“I... I want this to mean something.”
There’s a lump in my throat that I can barely swallow over. Much less speak. But I manage to rasp out, “It does.”
I’m not sure how I’ve gotten here, but I have. And all the doubt and jaded self-sufficiency that used to define me has softened into a feeling that’s soft and strong and needy.
For Dan and everything he is.
His face contorts very briefly. He reaches up to cup my face. He’s saying a lot more with his expression, but all he says with his voice is, “Good.”
We breathe through the moment before we get going again. Then he slides his hands down to my hips to hold them in place as I ride him.
I’m in control of the rhythm like this, and I don’t even mind the responsibility. I move exactly as I want, and it evidently works for Dan because he pumps his hips into my motion with shamelessly earnest grunts and moans.
It doesn’t take me long before I’m coming again, freezing in place before I shake through an intense climax. This time Dan doesn’t hold back. He bucks up into my clenching body uninhibitedly until he’s groaning and jerking through his own pleasure.
I feel the spurts of his release inside me, and I collapse forward on him afterward, my body softening deliciously and still twitching with aftershocks.
He slips out of me in the new position. He wraps his arms around me and holds me tightly, breathing just as raggedly as I am.
And I wonder if this is what it feels like.
To love someone.
For real.
Maybe it feels helpless and naked and clingy and trusting.
And safe.
I’ve never experienced anything like it, but maybe I’ve never really been in love before.
***
T HE NEXT MORNING AT about nine thirty I’m sucking on a mouthful of warm, firm Dan.
I’m honestly not sure what’s gotten into me, but when I woke up a half hour earlier, Dan was already awake and lying beside me in bed, casually reading his phone. I got up to go to the bathroom and washed my face and brushed my teeth while I was there. Then I got back in bed, took Dan’s phone out of his hand to place on the nightstand, and started to kiss my way down his body.
So here I am—giving him what has become a very intense blow job.
He’s definitely appreciating it, if the tension in his body and his enthusiastic vocal responses are any indication.
Oral sex has never been one of my favorite activities—either giving it or receiving it. With Rick, it was always in response to his guilting me to go down on him and a kind of token reciprocation when he returned me the favor.
I know how to do it okay. I’ve just never really enjoyed it.
But that’s clearly because I’ve never done it for Dan before. It’s impossible not to be blown away by his sincere, affectionate appreciation for the pleasure I’m giving him.
And I’m definitely giving him pleasure. The muscles in his abdomen and thighs are so tense they’re shaking, and he can’t seem to hold back a lot of loud moans and gasps as I hollow out my cheeks and rhythmically bob my head over him.
I’ve been holding on to one of his hips as I work and using the other to stabilize his shaft so I can suck, but now I move my hand from his hip to gently massage his balls.
He lets out a helpless exclamation and uses his grip on my head to pull me off his erection as his body jerks.
I squeeze him through his release, and he comes in several spurts on my chin and neck.
It’s a little startling because I wasn’t expecting it so soon, but I love how much he got into it and how obviously he enjoyed it.
His skin is flush and slightly damp, and his long limbs are relaxing with a delicious softness as he gazes up at me. “Damn,” he breathes.
I giggle and use a stray edge of sheet to wipe the ejaculate off me. “So I guess I did okay with it.”
“Okay? Okay? That was mind-blowing. Thank you so much, Vicky.” He reaches over to cup my cheek with one hand. “I can’t remember when I’ve had a better morning.”
“It was pretty good for me too.” Now that I’m done, I’m kind of jittery and embarrassed—for no reason I can understand—so I start to climb off the bed and use the excuse of the bathroom for a little time to clear my head.
“Hey!” he objects, reaching to hold one of my forearms. “You’re taking off before I can do you too.”
I giggle again—as much self-consciousness as amusement. “You really don’t have to do me. I wanted to do that for you.”
He frowns and sits up so he can ease me back onto my mattress. “And you think I don’t want to do something for you too?”
I stare up at him, surprised and confused and a little uneasy—even as my heart has jumped into a wild gallop of deep feeling. “Do you?” I whisper.
He kisses my mouth very softly. “I do.”
It’s impossible to resist his sweetness or the promise of his giving me that kind of pleasure. “Okay. If you really want to.”
He chuckles at that as he kisses a trail along my jaw and then down my neck. “Thank you for so generously allowing me.”
It takes a minute for me to process the words and recognize the gentle irony. I giggle when the humor hits me unexpectedly just as he’s sucking one of my nipples into his mouth.
He pauses to check my face. Then smiles when he realizes my amusement is genuine and not at all mocking. “I guess when you have sex with a guy as funny as I am, it’s impossible not to laugh at the same time.”
I giggle even more at his wry, lilting tone and keep huffing through lingering laughter until his work on my breasts finally distracts me. By then I’m so turned on I can’t think of anything else.
He takes his time, kissing his way down my body until he pulls my thighs apart and nuzzles at my groin.
I gasp at the feel of him against my aroused, intimate flesh. I shift my butt as he uses his hands to open me up for him and then teases my clit with his tongue.
He’s good at this. No question. But it’s more than his skill that causes my intense responses to him. My self-consciousness fades, leaving nothing but excitement and trust.
Trust.
He wants to do this for me. He genuinely likes who I am and what I look like. And I’m entirely safe in his hands.
So I can let go. Completely.
And I do.
I give myself over to the sensations, moaning every time something feels good and getting louder and louder as the pleasure deepens and grows. He works on my clit and plays around my entrance and uses his fingers and tongue and lips and occasionally his teeth on my inner thigh.
And a climax builds until there’s no way to hold it back. I cry out as I fall over the edge, grinding my hips so wildly he has to hold me still so he can continue and bring me to a second orgasm on the heels of the first.
I’m hoarse by the time the waves of my release finally fade. I lie limply and have only enough energy to lift my head so I can see what Dan is doing farther down my body.
He’s gazing at me with a pleased kind of pride that really does it for me.
I’m about to be completely swept away by soft, hot feelings—leading me to confess God knows what—when Dan says, “Thank you for doing me that favor. I really appreciate it.”
I freeze as the words process for a few seconds. Then I burst out in helpless laughter, so much so that a couple of tears stream down my face.
Dan is laughing too as he moves back up my body and pulls me into his arms.
We lie together like that, tangled together with the remnants of laughter, for a long, wonderful time.
***
E VENTUALLY THE DEMANDS of my bladder overcome my desire to snuggle, so I get up to go to the bathroom and make myself and Dan cups of coffee in the small in-room brewer while he goes after me. I pull on an oversize T-shirt so I’m not naked and get in bed while he comes out wearing just his underwear.
He gets under the covers beside me and pulls me over so he can wrap a casual arm around me as we sip our coffee.
“In all seriousness,” I say after a minute. “Thank you for that. If you couldn’t tell, it was amazing. Maybe the hardest I’ve ever come in my life.”
A little smile plays around his lips, but he doesn’t indulge it. “You’re welcome. I enjoyed it too. Both the blow job and doing that for you.”
“Good.” I swallow another sip of coffee. “Me too.”
We’re quiet while we finish our drinks. Then I put my cup on the nightstand and rearrange myself so I’m lounging against him. “You’ve never told me about your previous relationships.”
“What?” It sounds more like he was surprised by the introduction of the topic rather than he didn’t actually hear my words.
“You’ve never told me about your previous relationships,” I repeat.
“Oh. Yeah. I guess not.” He sets down his cup too and slouches down more against the pillows. “It’s not a secret or anything. It just never came up. The truth is I haven’t really had any serious relationships.”
That surprises me enough that I lift my head so I can see his face. “Really?”
“Yeah. I mean, it’s not that I’ve only done one-night stands. In fact, I’ve never had a real one-night stand. I’ve dated for a few months multiple times, but the relationships never really felt serious.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t really know.” His voice is gentle and reflective, like he’s thinking it through as he speaks. “I’ve wanted a relationship. I don’t think I’m the kind of person who really needs one, but it has been something I’ve wanted. So I would date fairly often. Sometimes I’d go out with a woman a few times but wasn’t feeling it, so I’d end it there. But sometimes I thought there might be potential, so we’d keep dating for a month or two. I’d try... I think I was trying to give it a fair shot most of the time. But then...”
When he trails off, I caress his bare belly and softly prompt, “But then what?”
“Then we’d have an argument or some sort of obstacle or roadblock would come up in the relationship, and it just never felt worth the effort of working through it. There never seemed to be enough foundation to... to make it worth it.”
There’s a pained rasp on his last words, as if the truth of them really bothers him. “Well, there probably wasn’t. A month isn’t very long in the scheme of dating.”
“I know. But it happened with women I dated longer than that. Women I really tried to make it work with. And I’ve dated a lot of great women, so it’s not like they were shallow or superficial or impossible to get close with. So I always concluded it was...”
I don’t like the self-directed bitterness of his tone. “Dan?”
“It was me ,” he concludes, meeting my eyes. “There’s just something about me that can’t get close to people.”
“That’s not right. That’s not right at all. How can you even say that?”
“I don’t know. But I’ve sometimes wondered. I love my parents, and we have a decent relationship, but it’s not because I’ve really felt close to them. It’s because I’ve put the effort in to have a relationship with them.”
“But you have tons of friends.”
“I have a lot. Sure. But they’re not what I would call... intimate.” He swallows so hard I can see it in his throat. “I mean, I trust them, and I like hanging out with them, and I know they’d be there for me if I need it. Maybe that’s all friendship is and I’m imagining something different. But there’s always felt like a limit in how close I can get to someone, and that’s been the problem with my dating relationships. It’s like there’s eventually an expiration date on them, a point where we have to make it the real thing or just end it, and I always... I always end it.”
My heart is making weird, painful flutters. I have no idea what they mean. But the most important thing right now is the way Dan is feeling.
That he’s feeling bad about himself when he shouldn’t.
“It’s probably a combination of things,” I manage to say, searching for a way to answer what he’s admitted to me. “Your parents were always kind of standoffish and you never had siblings, so you never felt really close to family the way other people often do. I really do think you have good friends. And they’re real, true friendships. So I don’t think you have a problem in that regard. But maybe with romantic relationships, it’s a combination of your feeling kind of distanced with love in the past and the fact that the women you were trying to make it work with weren’t the right women for you. It’s not because you’re not capable of loving someone, Dan. I’ll never believe that.”
He lifts his head. Meets my eyes. His mouth softens. “Why can’t you believe that?”
“Because you’re way too warm and generous and kind and smart and funny to not be able to make a relationship work if that’s something you want.”
“Maybe,” he says hoarsely.
“No maybe about it. It’s not been the right time, or it’s been the wrong person, or you weren’t really ready for it in the past maybe. But it’s not because there’s something flawed about your nature. Don’t you dare believe that about yourself!” I’m so invested in the conversation that I’m louder and more earnest than is my normal tendency.
Dan chuckles and leans over to give me a quick kiss. “Thank you for that. I appreciate your faith in me.”
“Well, you should have faith in yourself too.”
“I’ll work on it.”
With that, there doesn’t seem to be anything else we need to say.
***
T HE LAST EVENT OF THE conference is a casual brunch from eleven to one. We eventually get up, shower, and dress in time to go down and catch about an hour of it.
We say goodbye to the friends we’ve made—most of them groggy from hangovers—and then we head back up to pack and clear our room by our late checkout time.
Our flight takes off at four Vegas time, so it’s very late when we land in Charlotte and drive the hour back to Green Valley. We’re both tired and quiet, but Dan asks if I want to spend the night with him since his apartment is closer. I’ll need to move in with him for a few weeks since we’re officially married now, but since we didn’t want the nuptials to look planned, I didn’t bring any of my stuff over to his place before we left for Vegas.
I have no reason not to accept the invitation to spend tonight with him, although I do send Esther a quick text so she’ll know where I am when she wakes up in the morning.
He’s already in bed when I finish getting ready in his bathroom. I’m oddly fluttery as I crawl into bed beside him.
When I meet his eyes in the light of the bedside lamp, we smile at each other.
He kisses me lightly before he turns off the light. We settle under the covers together, him wrapping his arms loosely around me.
And that’s it. We go to sleep.
We’re married now, and nothing has felt more right to me than falling asleep in his arms.