Chapter Thirty-Four Elise
Randall takes me everywhere like he’s the official ambassador for Vancouver and the surrounding area.
We hike up Shannon Falls one day and the next day, go down a beach with a tide so low you can walk half a mile in search of clams embedded in the wet sand. We dine at a fancy steak house with his whole family including Charles—who was delightfully friendly despite being what has been described as a cutthroat litigator. And then three hours later, grab street food at a night market with his high school buddies.
We spent a couple of nights in a fancy log home in Whistler. When I explained the experience to Lily, I tried to capture the contradiction of extreme sports meets urban royalty. Adrenaline junkies reeking of pot walk alongside fancy shoppers with Gucci bags and silicone lips.
Thank goodness we didn’t visit during the winter when I’d be expected to ski. There’s no way I’d make it down Blackcomb Mountain’s vertical drop in one piece.
I’ve never hiked this much, or eaten this much, or shopped this much in my entire life.
“Might want to take it easy, Haughland. What else will we do when we come back?” I tease, not realizing the implications of my words. I’m assuming he’ll take me here again. And I’m definitely taking for granted that we’ll be together.
“Oh, I think I know exactly what we’ll be doing,” he snarks before kissing me hard and pressing my body against the hot tub overlooking Whistler Village.
The night before our departure, he springs his final surprise.
Charles owns a penthouse in a “hipster” neighborhood, not quite in Vancouver, but just across one of the city’s numerous bridges. His place is also walking distance from a park that houses a repertory theater festival dedicated to Shakespeare.
Bard on the Beach is similar to Imagination Ohio in that they have a mix of classical theater and modern plays showing throughout the summer. I googled it before we left for the trip, but all the showings during our vacation were sold out. I never bothered bringing it up.
Anyway, it turns out being a local celebrity hockey player carries a lot of weight in a Canadian city.
“I called in a few favors,” he says cryptically.
We watch a lovely performance of Twelfth Night under an open-air tent with Vancouver’s skyline as the backdrop to the stage. The view simply stole the show.
Walking back to Charles’s place, we take the longish way through Vanier Park. It’s a gorgeous night filled with the familiar aroma of summer: overgrown flowers, damp earth, barbeque grills. But it’s also unfamiliar in an exciting way. Having the waters of English Bay so close to downtown creates a unique atmosphere of city and nature, ocean breezes and traffic noises, urban lights and shimmering waves.
Our arms are wrapped around each other’s waists as we stroll in unspoken unison. In the distance, a musician’s saxophone mixes with the waning chatter of departing audience members.
“I don’t want to leave.” My unsolicited declaration surprises both of us.
Randall stops to turn to me and wraps his arms around my back. The glow of the lamppost licks one side of his face, revealing half of a heartthrob’s grin.
“We can stay another week if you want. I can keep up with my workouts here till official training camp. Should we change our tickets?”
“No, that’s not possible,” I say with a chuckle. “I need to figure out my job situation and kowtow to the theater department chair so I can have income in the fall. These humbling pursuits take time, Haughland.”
“They would be lucky to have you,” he says with a light kiss at the corner of my mouth.
“Should I tell them I come highly recommended?” I tease, reciprocating with a graze of my lips on his stubble-rough jaw.
A low growl emits from his chest. Randall’s hug tightens and he walks me backward till we’re off the park’s gravel walkway and beyond the lamplight’s glow. When my feet teeter over knotty roots, Randall uses his burly forearms to cushion me against a rough tree trunk.
Our kiss begins with gentle affection. The lingering taste of vanilla ice cream we had during the play’s intermission is sweet. But as we delve deeper, past the taste of a summer treat, the essence of the other stirs a latent hunger. Our tongues sweep and lips crush. His growing erection holds me up as his hands roam along my hip, in my hair, up a ribcage, around a breast. The pleasure is so acute, I lose my mind a little.
Randall is the first to pull away. He turns sideways toward a sound I don’t hear because I’m too lost in the sensation of kissing the man I love.
“Let’s go before I take you right here,” he grunts in frustration.
He begins to pull away, but I grip his shirt. “Why can’t you take me right here?”
“Fuck, Elise, don’t tempt me.”
I wiggle free and tug at his wrist while walking deeper into the park’s shadows. My eyes have adjusted. I choose a tree with leafy branches to nestle against, so we’re hidden by an alcove made of thick foliage. This time, I press his back against the trunk.
“Thank you for a perfect night,” I say, continuing to rub against him while planting a kiss on his lips.
“And for an amazing vacation,” I kiss his neck with the slightest suction. His fingers dig into the flesh of my hips, but they don’t stray.
“Thank you for letting me get to know your family, your friends, your people.” My lips graze his ear lobe before a light nip. He takes in a shuddering breath.
“Most of all, Randall Haughland, thank you for sharing your hometown because it helps me understand you. And the more I understand you, the more I love you.”
“I love you so much, Elise.” His body is practically vibrating with the energy he’s holding back. “Now are you done thanking me for doing what I’ve been wanting to do for myself as much as for you?”
I nod. My palm presses the thickened rod straining his jeans.
“Good. Remember how grateful you are when I’m fucking you, because this isn’t going to be pretty.”
He switches places with me and turns me to face the trunk. One forearm protects my breasts while his other hand finds the edge of my underwear under the summer dress.
“I’m gonna check how wet this grateful pussy is for me, Elise. Are you OK with that?” he murmurs from behind me.
“Yes, sir,” I pant, signaling that I want this to go further.
Randall finds my soaked seam, using a rough knuckle to create the friction I’m seeking. This time I whimper and wiggle because I want more. My body is greedy for him. My ass cants up to seek his hardness, while my center clenches around his fingers.
“Goddamn, Elise,” he mutters. “You’re really gonna let me bend you over and fuck you here, baby?”
“I need you, Randall. I can’t wait. Please.” I whisper the words deliriously. When I hear the clank of his belt’s release, a sob of relief escapes.
The smooth head of his cock crests my entrance and I push back, sheathing him completely.
“Fuck, you take me so good,” he mumbles while grinding our bodies. His hardness penetrates deep and stirs every erotic nerve ending.
The thrilling open air, the knowledge that this is our last night in the city, and the overwhelming emotions I feel for Randall push me close to the edge. I nearly scream, but his hand clamps over my mouth.
Hard and gyrating behind me, Randall puts his lips against my ear to shush me. I hear the footsteps over gravel path before I get the whiff of marijuana.
I tense up, unsure what to do if the noise or smell comes closer.
Meanwhile, Randall’s hand remains on my mouth and his cock is glorious steel inside me. Delicious tension is near its boiling point. I swirl my ass, a wordless request for more, more, more.
He bites into my neck as a reprimand and uses the tips of his fingers to fondle my clit as a reward. It feels surreal to be worked into a state of sensual bliss while under a tree in a random park, with strangers steps away. The contradiction of our lewd behavior and his loving touch sends me over the edge.
To stop myself from even the hint of a muffled scream, I move my lips to take two of his fingers and suck hard. Randall presses against my clit more insistently, drawing out my pleasure. I crest at the peak of my climax, and he bends his knees and fucks up into me. The change in angle deepens our contact. My channel milks the last of his restraint. Randall’s pulsing eruption fills me so completely, it runs down my inner thighs.
When our orgasms abate, we focus on slowing down our breathing. The chatter and smell of other people are gone, replaced by the sound of leaves rustling and the scattering of squirrels.
As quietly as we can and with grins to light up the darkness, we dress together. Just as I comb down my nest of hair with fingers, a flash of light cuts across Randall’s face.
“Hey! Get out of there!” A booming voice snaps the spell of our afterglow.
“Oh, shit!” we say together. Holding hands, we burst out of the thicket, away from the source of light.
Like two kids on an adventure, we laugh and run in the summer night. More accurately, I run as fast as I can while Randall lightly jogs beside me.
I make the mistake of turning around to see that the voice and light came from a uniformed guard.
“Hop on!” Randall says, still laughing. He’s bent down so I can ride him, piggyback style.
That’s what I do. Hold on tight and let the love of my life carry me away.