Chapter 9
Chapter nine
Luca
Well, shit.
That wasn’t supposed to happen.
It’s all well and good to burst a bottle of champagne to christen something, and at the right celebratory event, shaking up the bubbly can provide an excellent sense of victorious camaraderie, but it’s rather inconvenient to coat half the inside of an expensive bus and fully soak an unwitting participant.
“Fuck. Dulcie, I’m so sorry! Let me get you something.”
Beads of champagne glisten on her forehead and cheeks like raindrops, and a rivulet tracks down her nose as she blinks her sticky, clumped lashes.
I frantically glance all around the bus, but there aren’t any towels that I can see. I’m still holding the bottle, so here’s to my last fuck to give. I tip it back and bring it to my mouth.
“It’s very sad that I never got to taste it.” Dulcie slicks her hand down her nose and brings it to her lips right as the last contents of the bottle hit my tongue.
I should swallow, but the way she sucks her finger, looking so innocently and mouthwateringly sweet, and at the same time exceptionally and flirtatiously coy, freezes the reflex.
The champagne is getting warm in my mouth.
I have five seconds to decide if I’m going to swallow or instead choose a path that there’s no coming back from. Logically, I could just ask the driver to stop somewhere so I could get another bottle, but my brain isn’t doing things like braining.
She pops her finger out of her mouth loudly and sighs. “Hmm, it was good too. Delicious.”
There’s no snapping inside me. No last thread. It’s nothing like that. It’s all straight up resolve, rearing and kicking like a feral animal inside me.
I surge across the bus, cup the back of her head reverently, thread my fingers in her raven hair, and lock my mouth with hers.
She makes a sound, but it’s not startled surprise.
She immediately gives herself over to the kiss, parting her lips.
I open mine slowly, letting the champagne trickle into her mouth and flood over her tongue.
“Mmmph.”
I can’t tell if it’s a gasp or a sigh, but it’s either I keep going or choke myself, or her, or both of us.
She swallows eagerly, sighing when the last of the champagne is gone.
Her tongue glides over mine, savoring the last of the aftertaste.
Then, she sucks my bottom lip into her mouth, caressing that too and letting loose little sounds of pleasure before she leans back, her hands fisting in the lapels of my jacket.
“That was surprising,” she says softly.
“In a good or bad way? It’s not for everyone. I’m sorry if it wasn’t—”
“That was the hottest thing I’ve ever done in my life. The question is, what are you going to do about it now?” I ask.
“It?” My brain is burning up, fizzing out, and turning to mush.
“My dress. You’ve ruined it. I have nothing else to wear. All my clothes are dirty.”
She slicks her finger down her cheek where the last remnants of the champagne are drying, then pushes it past my lips. I trace it with my tongue, causing us both to shiver. Her irises barely exist around her blown-out pupils. The sweetness of her skin has nothing to do with the champagne.
“You can wear something of mine. I’ll get the driver to pull over, and I’ll find you a T-shirt and some sweats.”
“You’re going to ask the driver to stop right now? Right this minute?” She withdraws her finger and catches my chin in her hand, blinking her eyelashes so close to my face that they nearly graze my cheek. “Or are you going to help me undress and clean me up?”
“There aren’t any towels. I’m sorry.”
“Towels?” Her laughter is soft and genuine. “No, Luca. With your tongue and mouth. I want you to peel this dress away and taste the mess you made of me off my neck, my collarbones, my breasts, my stomach…”
I’m an idiot. Clearly. I study her dress, which is soaked in the bodice part, but not lower. “There’s nothing spilled below your… um…”
“As I said, everywhere you made a mess. Not the champagne.”
Holy shit. “That’s quite bold,” I rasp.
She sighs, and her hands clench my shoulders.
“Luca, I’m trying to be all sexy here and talk a big dirty game.
I thought it would be hot for you to lick my sticky skin.
Hot for both of us. I thought we left things open-ended at the cottage.
Where we were in agreement that there are should-nots and there are fuck-its, and there are situations where they can happily coexist.”
“We’re on our way to see your family,” I say.
“Yes. And I’ll tell them that we’re together.”
I’m going to pass out. I’m going to fall over. I’m going to stroke out and die right here. Round fucking two. Or ten. I can’t even keep track anymore. “Your dad will cut off my nuts and bake them into a pie.”
“Nah. Testicle pie isn’t on our menu.”
How is she so calm about this? “I think he’d make a special exception.” If it were my daughter, I would.
Oh my god. For the love of I’d like to keep my balls and not get them turned into pie, this is going to be a disaster. It’s already a disaster. Why can’t I make myself understand that?
“You don’t know my dad like I do. Or my mom. They’d be shocked, but all they want is for me to be happy.”
“I’m the one who stole the magic and brought the pie curse, leaving a trail of broken hearts and misery in my wake. I don’t think they’d be overly pleased that you left, were gone for a few weeks, and came back with me as your… I can’t even say the word.”
“Paramour? Lover? Boyfriend? Sugar daddy?”
I stifle a groan. “You’re just being provocative now.”
“I was being provocative when I invited you to undress me. Right now, I’m trying to get you to laugh so you don’t faint. Take a breath.”
I try. But I can’t. It’s too hot in here. My stomach and head are both spinning, and my clothes are starting to get damp with sweat. Soon, they’ll look like Dulcie’s dress, slicked down over her perfect curves. I force myself not to look at the way it flattens over the swell of her breasts.
“Do you want to lie down?”
Before I can respond, she’s guiding my head and shoulders and letting gravity take over until I’m on my side. I pick my feet up, drawing my legs in as though the bench isn’t huge and I need to fit.
Dulcie sits beside me and strokes my hair evenly.
She doesn’t tremble. She’s comfortable touching me.
“I’m into you,” she whispers, “but I’m not into being dishonest. I understand this is crazy, but you have to trust me when I say I know my parents, and I know myself.
I want you, Luca, and you want me. I know it’s fucking mind-blowing, and the rest of the world will call us insane.
I know it’s taboo. Statistically, we very likely have a shitty chance at making this work, but I’m all about beating the odds.
You know what odds we can’t beat? Faking that we don’t have a clue this is happening.
I know I’m a terrible actress, and my parents know me well.
Two minutes in, and they’re going to notice the way I look at you. ”
“Don’t look at me then,” I say. But I’m not serious, and her tone tells me she knows that.
“I can’t. I can’t not look at you. You’re all I want to see.
Do you think I wanted to hunt you down and end up liking you?
You’re a wrench in the works. Big time. But am I running?
Am I trying to pretend like it’s not happening when I know full well it’s only going to hurt both of us and cause far more chaos and disaster in the long run?
I can’t not want you. I can’t just turn it off, and I can’t lie to you.
Even when I was supposed to be playing someone else, I was really just me with a different name. ”
She knows what she wants.
I’ve known for years that I don’t have a clue.
I’ve been waiting to see what my next move would be and what life could look like, but all I could see was the next surgery date and the healing that came after.
It has been an endless cycle. I haven’t lost hope, but it’s hard to dream when your body chains you to the ground.
“I like you,” Dulcie goes on. “I’m attracted to you. You’re intoxicating, and your soul stirs mine. You’re important to me. I know that already.”
She moves so she can peer down at me. Her pupils are almost a normal size now, surrounded by a ring of fiery sparks that flare in the dark depths. She’s guileless, and it’s easy to see how sincerely she feels everything she’s saying.
She brushes her hand over my brow, inhaling deeply, then says, “Now that I’ve drunk champagne right out of your mouth, I’m finished. Wrecked. Gone. All the other shit aside, can’t we just be two people who found an unexpected connection and a mad desire and then rock it?”
“We can’t just set the other stuff aside,” I insist, despite how badly I want to agree with her.
“Fair enough. But I still want you, all the other stuff included. I’ll fight for you. You, me… us… it’s worth it. I’d ask you to say the word, but you just did. When you kissed me just now.”
“I want to be the kind of man who does the right thing,” I say to her.
“Then listen to me. Trust me. Have faith in me,” she says as I look up at her. There’s no hiding down here, and the way she implores me hits harder. “Let’s heal my family’s wounds, and let me help you heal yours. Don’t take your light out of my life just when it’s starting to shine so bright.”
“That sounds like a children’s song,” I comment.
“Maybe. But it’s also my song.” She starts humming some nonsense song. At the same time, her hand travels down my face and brushes over my lips. “I know this is scary, and it’s a bunch of nonsense, but that’s where all good stories start. With one word. One line. One paragraph.”
“They start with an idea. Inspiration. Madness that you have to write down so it’s not eating you up on the inside,” I say.
“I couldn’t have said it better. That’s exactly what I was thinking earlier before I started reading from my journal.”