“You’re going to break my heart.”
She almost didn’t hear the words.
She was standing just far enough back from the large window to check her reflection. She loved the way she looked in this bra. Blue with black lace. Little black polka dots. Cutesexy.
She was hoping people outside, and in other buildings, were loving it just as much tonight.
She always wondered if the lights from the top floor overhang obscured her a little.
It might be OK if they did.
It might be better.
He always got this same room. The Park Manor, Room 1111. She loved it because it had an absolutely stunning view of the harbour. He knew that.
“You are going to break my heart.”
He said it again. Quieter.
“What? No!” She turned to him.
“You are. You’re going to break my heart. Not on purpose.”
“I don’t understand,” she whispered.
“Everything you do. Fuck. Everything you ARE…”
“Will break your heart?”
“I don’t… I can change.”
“No. I’d never– Just no.
“I just can’t handle a broken heart. Not now.”
“Maybe it won’t happen.”
“Maybe I’m worth it.”
“You’re amazing, but…”
“Pussy,” she hisses.
He grabs her wrists. Hard.
Before she can answer, he throws her on the bed.
She barely bounces when he is on her.
Large, strong hands pinning her down.
His lips close to hers.
She sees a fire in his eyes that she thought long ago burned out.
She feels his weight.
“Be quiet,” he stops her.
“I didn’t tell you to talk.”
His mouth is on hers now.
She feels his teeth biting her lower lip, and then pulling on it.
“You… are… MINE…” he growls.
She feels it in her chest.
He suddenly flips her over on to her stomach.
With his left hand, he pins both of her wrists above her head, to the mattress.
His right hand brushes her hair aside.
He kisses her between the shoulders. Then up to her neck. To her ear.
“All… fucking… mine…” he whispergrowls.
She feels the goosebumps form.
Within seconds, her silky blue bra is flung over a nearby chair.
His begins to kiss
down her spine.
His hand caresses lacy black boy-cut shorts… moments before they land on the floor across the room.
Then he SLAPS her ass.
The force of her gasp surprises her.
She’s back at the window.
But not alone.
His hands hold hers up above her head. She’s pressed, facing out, against the smooth, cooled from the outside, glass.
He wonders if the lights from the top floor overhang are obscuring her stunningly perfect naked body a little.
He hopes not.
He slowly, gently traces his hands down her arms.
Then around to her front.
She marvels at the twinkling boat lights on the choppy harbour, spelling out something in Morse code.
Just for her.
Just for tonight.
Then his hands are back on her sides.
To her hips.
He grabs her hips and quickly spins her around.
He pushes her back up against the window.
He kisses her softly, teasingly on the stomach.
He puts her right leg over his shoulder.
He kisses her inner thigh.
He brushes her hair aside.
It falls back in front of her eye.
He brushes it again and gently tucks it behind her ear.
He puts his hand on her cheek.
She turns to touch her lips to it.
He pushes her up against the wall.
Dual shower heads, at either end, cause a dreamy mist.
Legs around waist.
Wet skin on wet skin.
Cool ceramic tiles on her back.
Until the echoes are of echoes.
She runs her nails down his back.
Then much harder.
His hand is in her wet hair. Pulling her head back.
Teeth closing on her chin.
“Here’s the thing…” he whispers in her ear, as she wraps up in the crisp, white bedsheets.
“I don’t want to just be a chapter in your book. I’d never be satisfied with that. Never.”
He plays with her hair.
“I know…” she says.
“I’m not that guy. I’m not a chapter, I’m who you dedicate the book to… I’m the guy standing behind you, beaming proudly, at the book signing, you know?”
“I get that and…”
“I’m not a stop along the way, baby. I’m the prize you get at the end.”
“I’m sorry if I ever…”
“You haven’t. Not really.
“I… don’t know what to say…
“There’s nothing else to say.”
She stares at the window. Then at the ceiling. She tries to move her foot closer to his, but he is further away from her than she realized. She takes a deep breath and…
“Break up again next Thursday?”
“Friday? I have to work Thursday.”