Chapter 43
Chapter forty-three
Ben
I wake slowly, aware of her warmth before anything else.
Antonia’s arm drapes across my stomach, her hair splayed on my chest. Her head rests over my heart as it beats steadily underneath. The sheets are twisted around our legs, the room still smelling faintly of skin and sweat in the aftermath of last night.
Hell, even if I wanted to, I couldn’t let her go anymore.
Yesterday was… special. Different. Something I’ve never experienced.
She talked about building walls, but we took them down bit by bit, slowly but surely, together.
She snores softly.
I lie still, trying not to wake her, because this is perfect.
The window’s cracked open. I can hear London beginning to rise, the cars driving down the street, people going about their day, horns blaring.
After she cried, like really cried, I carried her to bed. There’d been nothing else to do. We just needed each other then, both of us sitting there with the loss we’d lived with. Hers and mine.
I kissed her softly, almost like a promise. Like showing her that this was it. I was here, and I wasn’t letting go.
She surrendered, strong and beautiful as always, but she accepted me for who I was, as I did her. Two adults broken by their pasts, finding some happiness in their future.
Then we made love. Pure, uncomplicated bliss.
My phone lights up on the bedside table with a message from Savannah.
After last night, I’m not even sure I want to talk to her. I understand her hurt, and I know I overstepped, but there was no need to embarrass Antonia like that.
Morning, Dad. I’m sorry. I was wrong. Please forgive me.
I stare at the screen.
Savannah never apologizes. It’s one of her faults. It’s also a fault I had myself as a young man.
My heart breaks for my daughter. So much destruction in her life, so young, and now in her early twenties, trying to build her own future while watching the skeleton of my life that has fallen apart more times than it stayed together.
I can’t blame her for lashing out.
I was wrong.
I know I was.
You were right to be angry. I’m sorry for putting you in that position. I love you.
“Morning.”
The whisper drifts up from my chest. I glance down. Antonia peeks up at me from under her eyelashes. I pop a kiss on her forehead. It feels so natural.
“Last night,” she says.
“Last night was beautiful, Antonia. Beautiful. Thank you for trusting me with that.”
She blushes, her cheeks turning the most stunning shade of pink. Her whole complexion lightens along with my heart. The tension of yesterday is gone.
“I don’t think I’ve ever cried so much, but it felt good. A relief.”
I squeeze her a little tighter. “It should feel good. I want you to feel safe with me. Tell me whatever you want.”
She giggles, then wriggles beneath the duvet. Greedy fingers skim over my skin, down my torso, landing in my crotch.
We’re both still naked from the night before; the memory brings me back to life, and I harden.
She nips my chest with sharp teeth. She’s just moving on top of me when her phone rings. Doctor Green.
Panic shoots through her eyes. They widen, bouncing from me to the screen. “It’s the doctor.”
“Well, answer it,” I tell her.
“But what if it’s my results?”
My heart stops beating then, my stomach dropping away, the playful moment of a few minutes ago disappearing with the ring of the phone. She straddles me naked and vulnerable, knowing this call could change our course again.
“We need to know either way,” I say. She bites her quivering lip. “So we can face it together.”
She nods, reaching for the handset. Then hits the button for speaker phone.
“Hello.”
My heart begins to beat again, harder now, racing.
“Antonia, it’s Doctor Green. Can you confirm your date of birth?”
She does.
Then, those words we’ve been terrified to hear, and yet so desperate for, come.
“It’s benign,” she says. “There’s no sign of cancer.”
There’s silence. Disbelief. Neither of us moves. Then her lips split wide. I push myself up, and she rocks backward. I snake my arms around her waist, keeping her steady. She snorts. Loud and completely unfazed. Just happy.
“Antonia,” the doctor says again. “Did you hear me?”
“Really?” Antonia stammers out, gasping between breaths. “Say it again.”
“It’s benign,” the doctor repeats. “You’re fine, Antonia.”
Her squeal comes first, then the thanks. “Thank you, Doctor.”
The call ends. Her phone misses the table, crashing onto the floor.
“You’ll need a new screen,” I tease.
“I don’t care,” she squeals, bouncing up and down on the bed. The air is knocked from my stomach, but I couldn’t care less.
She’s here. She’s fine.
And I’m not reliving the story I did before.
She’s safe with me.
Then her eyes turn dark, she pauses, and a sexy smile appears.
“Now, where was I?” she murmurs, sliding down my torso over my legs. “Oh, I remember…”
Her lips drop to my cock, taking the full length on the first try. She sucks. Not soft and gentle, demanding and needy. My dick throbs, pathetically close. She dips lower, letting me slide to her throat. Warmth from the soft velvet of her mouth.
Both my hands reach for her hair, twisting the fiery strands around my fingers. The need building low in my belly burns hot with her submission.
“Fuck,” I choke out. She glances up, my cock still filling her lips. “More…”
Her eyes blaze. It’s only a look, but it's all I need to know she’s going to suck me dry. I rock my hips, her head bobbing up and down, I drive deeper than I think I mean to. She doesn’t complain.
“Antonia, I’m…” She ignores me, her tongue twisting, grazing every inch. So slow, it borders on cruelty.
Greedy fingers slide under my ass, nails dig into my skin, encouraging me to sink further down her throat. Enough to sting, but pushing me where she wants me.
“Fuck my mouth,” she mumbles around me. She rolls onto her side, then her back. I follow, now on top. Her fingers scrape over my ass, nails deep enough to pinch.
“Fuck my mouth,” she repeats. I flex my hips, and she holds me closer. I thrust, long, hard strokes, riding her mouth. Our rhythm instinct.
Her knees have dropped wide, her pussy already glistening, swollen, ready for me. I love fucking her mouth, but that is too tempting. I withdraw, flipping her onto all fours.
“My turn to order you around,” I say. “Ass in the air.”
With her elbows on the bed, she rises onto her knees, legs spread wide. Fuck, she’s stunning. But she expects me to take her, to slide inside and pump her until she screams. I hate being predictable. Though I love it when she does as she’s told.
Instead, my tongue hits her clit. She collapses onto the bed, but my hands slide under her thighs, pushing her upward. Inflexible. I want to have her like this. On all fours.
“Knees,” I demand. “I want to taste you before I lay you out and fuck you hard.”
She moans, and I go to work, licking, sucking, enjoying the sweetness I know will coat my dick soon.
“You naked on your knees is one of my favorite views,” I whisper. “But do you know what’s better?”
“What?” The word is strangled. She’s breathless, her body preparing to explode. “Watching your face when you orgasm.”
I flip her over again. Pinning her to the bed, her legs around my waist, my cock teasing her entrance.
“And that’s what I want to see now. Open wide.” I lean down, my lips at her ear. My hips push forward, her pussy welcoming me in. “Good girl, now give me a show. And you’re going to scream.”