by Sarina Bowen
A second later she sits up, moves off me and unzips my shorts. I lift my hips again to help her out, and she tugs off everything at once. Freed of my clothing, my hard cock slaps me in the belly. Delilah pulls her shirt off, too, and throws it across the room.
“Jesus,” I say as her breasts bounce free. I try to sit up, drawn like a beacon to her body.
“Nope,” she says, pushing me down again. “Not yet.”
I fall back on my elbows, smiling. “Feeling bossy?”
She doesn’t answer me. Not in words, anyway. Instead, she straddles my thighs and takes me in hand.
“Unngh,” I say as she strokes my shaft with a firm grip. “Okay. Your way is fun, too. In fact—”
I don’t even remember how that sentence was supposed to end, because she leans down and takes me into her mouth.
Whoa. It’s just a little more difficult to worry about the future when her tongue is stroking me and those smoldering brown eyes look up just as she gives me a good, tight suck. “Jesus, girly,” I grunt, stroking her hair with shaking fingers.
She keeps up with her exquisite torture until I’m trembling. “Wait,” I beg. “I’m not ready for this to end.”
Thankfully, she releases me. As she sits up again, I take a deep breath to try to calm down.
But oxygen can only go so far. I’m rock-hard and desperate. And it’s a shock when Delilah kicks off her yoga pants, then throws a leg over me. She lines me up beneath her body and sinks down on my bare cock.
I let out a shout as she sheathes me in silky, clenching heat. All my muscles clench involuntarily as I try to get a hold of myself. “Hey,” I gasp. “Condom.”
“No need.” The vixen gives her head a quick shake. “I came prepared.”
“Day-amn.” I sit up, and we’re nose to nose again. “You feel incredible. I’m probably going to disgrace myself.”
She shakes her head. “I really need to be this close to you right now.”
“You got it.” I wrap both arms around her and take another deep breath. She’s right, too. “There is nowhere I’d rather be.” I tug her hips closer, and we’re chest to chest and nose to nose.
Then tongue to tongue. It’s physically impossible to be any closer than we are right now.
Delilah shows me some mercy by moving slowly at first. Gripping my shoulders, she rides me like we have all week. But it isn’t long until we’re both too wound up to go slow. And every time I jack my hips off the bed, she lets out an earthy, helpless sound. I break out in a sweat as we pick up the pace. I’m aching and desperate and yet so, so happy.
“Jesus,” Delilah pants, throwing her head back. “You really want to roll me over and go into beast mode, don’t you?”
“Maybe,” I gasp, thrusting again. “Now that you mention it.”
She gives a throaty laugh, and I need to hear that sound almost as much as I need to come. She puts her hands to my face. “Do it, then.”
About two seconds later she’s flat on her back, and I’m going hard and fast. Her knees hug my sides for dear life, and her breasts bounce with every snap of my hips. “Now, honey,” I beg.
“Yes,” she cries, or at least I think she does. All I can hear are my own moans and hers answering me back as we lose ourselves in the release we both need so badly.
When my brain comes back online, we’re side by side on the bed, hand in hand, still breathing hard. After another minute of trying to get my heart rate down, I open my mouth to tell her something important. “I—”
But she speaks at the same time “So—”
We both pause to let the other speak.
“You first,” she says.
I laugh, because timing never was easy for us. “I love you,” I say and then laugh again. “How about that?”
She sits up and looks down at me. “Oh! God.” She leans over and kisses me. “I love you too! Thank you for making me say it.”
“I didn’t make you.”
She shrugs her naked shoulders. “Sometimes I need a push. But I’m trying.”
“What were you going to say, though?” I reach up a hand and cup her sweet face. “Just now?”
“Oh. Well this is embarrassing.” She gives me a nervous smile. “I was just going to ask if you brought food.”
I cover my face with both hands and crack up. “Of course I did.”
* * *
* * *
* * *
We eat in our underwear on the bed. We don’t bother with plates from the kitchenette or good silverware. I’ve brought a pasta with salmon and an order of avocado sliders. We trade the containers back and forth while we talk.
And I finally get my chance to explain why I stood her up the other night. “It wasn’t because I had cold feet, or didn’t want to come. Brett threatened us.”
“What?” The fork pauses on its way to her mouth. “That asshole is always coming between us.”
“Because we let him,” I point out. “I let him just this week.”
“Never again,” she grumbles. “I want to hear the whole story.”
That requires going back in time and filling her in on all the parts I’d skipped before.
“He got you arrested in high school? Then he threatens your mom?” Delilah is horrified when it all comes out. “What an asshole. I had the worst taste in men.”
I laugh. “Well…”
“Had,” she says. “Past tense.”
“Still.”
She sets down the food and grips my knee. “I’m still not used to you. Part of me doesn’t quite believe that I deserve you.”
“Shit. I’m the same.”
“Why?”
“Because I didn’t level with you before. If I’d told you what Brett did to ruin my chances, you might have understood how calculating he really is. You could have avoided every single awful thing that’s happened to you in three years.”
She blinks. “I don’t know if it would even matter. We could both go insane trying to second guess ourselves.”
“I suppose.” I clear my throat. “You’re probably right. And maybe I’ll stop feeling so responsible if they convict him. Still. I really don’t want to get on a plane tomorrow.”
She swallows. “Do you have to?”
No.
Yes.
“That’s not an easy question. If I want to keep my place on the team, then I have to leave. They could fine me just for missing today’s practice. It’s not just the coach I’m letting down. It’s two dozen guys who need to get the season off to the right start.”
“Shit.”
I pick up our empty food containers and put them back into the bag. I carry the whole thing out to the kitchen.
When I come back, Delilah is sitting very straight on the bed watching me. “I don’t want you to go. But I know you need to.”
“I sure don’t want to go. What would you say to coming home with me for a little while?”
“How would that work?”
“You’d think of it as a vacation. No—a retreat.” I gather her hair in one hand and lift her chin with the other. “It’s a selfish request. I don’t think I can go back home and keep my head in the game while I’m so worried about you.”
“I’m okay, Silas.”
“Yeah, I can see that. But I’m not over it yet. And you’ve had a really rough time. I just want you around. And I want you safe. I want to be able to climb into bed beside you at night and be totally sure you’re all right.”
“Okay.”
“Okay?”
“I’ll go on retreat to Brooklyn.” She smiles at me. “The schedule Charla set up for me is about to get the ax anyway. We have to shift gears and go into launch mode.”
“Is that stressful?”
“Sure, sort of. There will be interviews and appearances, late-night TV. Stylists and crap.”
“Do you feel up to that?”
“Well, I never feel up to that. But it’s for something I really want. So it’ll be all right.” She reaches up
and puts a hand on my face. “You look so worried.”
I’m sure I do. Twenty-four hours ago I was carrying her limp body into the E.R. But I don’t want to talk about it. “Want to go for a walk on the beach?”
“Yes!” She slides off the bed. “Let me grab a sweatshirt.”
We both get dressed. When she comes back, I’m tapping on my phone.
“Who are you talking to?”
“Nobody yet. But would you mind if I asked Becky to find you a seat on my flight tomorrow. Is that okay?”
She stops. Then opens her mouth. Then closes it again. And then? Her eyes get wet, and she covers her face with her hands.
For a second I’m so stunned I don’t move. But then I cross the room to her in two quick strides. “Hey! Easy.” I wrap my arms around her. “I have no idea what I did. But I’ll undo it.”
“No!” She sniffs, clinging to me. “I’m sorry. I never cry.”
“It’s okay.”
“I mean never.” She wipes her eyes on the sleeve of her sweatshirt.
“Shh.” I rub her back slowly. “Deep breaths. Want to fill me in?”
“It won’t make any sense.”
“Try me.”
“I don’t trust myself. The first thing I told you when you showed up in my New York hotel room is that I didn’t want a man to complicate my life.”
Uh-oh. “I remember.”
“Because I fucked things up so badly before. I let him control me, because I was overwhelmed. He managed my career, and he managed my life. I was swept under.”
“Okay.” I’ve got her tucked against my chest, exactly where I like her to be.
“And I swear it’s the only reason I’m hesitant about going to New York. Because it’s your turf, and you’ll have to help me manage. Again. I’ll feel like I never learned how to adult.”
“But—”
“—hang on, I’m not done. Just now you were thinking about plane tickets and how we needed one. And you didn’t just buy it. And you didn’t just ask Becky. You asked me first.” She pulls back and looks at me with red eyes. “Just keep doing that. I want to go to Brooklyn with you so badly. But I can’t let anyone handle me for a while.”
I wipe her tears with my thumbs. “Okay.”
“Okay?”
“I never wanted to manage you. I just want your company. I want to ask about your day, and hear about all the weird parts of your career. And I want you to sing to me.”
“I could do that.” She sniffs.
“See? We got this. In fact, there’s something I want to show you on our way out.” I take her by the hand to the living room, where I left my shoes and my gym bag earlier. From the bag I pull the T-shirt I had made a week ago.
“Oh my GOD!” she shrieks when I hand it over. “That’s hilarious.”
“I thought so. And thank you for validating my world view. But it’s a joke, okay? That’s how I see my role here. A good listener, followed by comic relief.”
Her eyes well up again. “Thank you. I love it so much.”
“You’re welcome.” I step closer and give her a squeeze. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“I think I’m…a total wreck!” She pushes her face into my shoulder and sobs. “He drugged me.”
“I know,” I whisper.
“I let him.”
“Shh. Okay.” Her body shakes with sobs, and I hate that so much. But trauma doesn’t ask permission. And there’s nowhere else I’d rather be right now. Nowhere at all.
* * *
Eventually, we do take that walk on the beach. Delilah’s bodyguard follows us at a discreet distance, while we walk barefoot through the sand.
I squeeze her hand as the waves crash onto the beach. The tide is coming in. We walk mostly in silence, because Delilah is emotionally drained. My heart is full, though. Things aren’t settled between us, and they sure aren’t easy. But I’m here, and we’re together. It’s all I ever wanted.
She stops suddenly, looking straight ahead.
“What is it?” The beach is mostly empty. I see one guy riding his bike slowly down the path at the edge. But that’s it.
“The lifeguard tower.”
“Oh.” There it is. The spot where I was supposed to meet her three years ago. “Come on, then.”
Hand in hand, we walk to a spot of her choosing. “Right here. This is where I waited.”
“For a guy who asked fifty times for your phone number and never got it.”
She smiles up at the dark sky. “Huge mistake. One of many.”
“We’ve both got those. But I think we need to let them go, if we’re going to be happy.”
“I suppose you’re right.” She twirls around in a circle, her arms out. “Here’s the place where nothing started. And nothing ended. It’s just a spot on the sand.”
“For us, maybe. I’ll bet it’s an important spot for someone else’s love story.”
She drops her hands. “Someone else’s love story. Hmm. That’s kind of lyrical. It would make a good chorus.”
“You can’t shut it off, can you?” I ask with a smile.
“Nope. Occupational hazard.” She takes my hand again and steers me back in the direction we came.
“You need your notebook now, right?”
“Just to scribble down those four words. I can’t write music tonight. I’d rather just hang out with you.”
Hearing that makes a warm place in my chest.
“What do I need to know about Brooklyn? Is this a bad time to mention that I’ve only been there once?”
I laugh out loud. “No, it’s the perfect time. It’s like Manhattan, but with slightly less traffic. And slightly less convenient subways. But the pizza is top-notch.”
“Confession—I always thought it would be amazing to live someplace where cars are unnecessary.”
“I walk to work every day. And so can you. Heidi told me there are recording studios in the Navy Yards development.”
“Oh, yeah.” She squeezes my hand. “That’s where I was the one time I went to Brooklyn. Is that near your neighborhood?”
“It’s a five-minute walk from my apartment, Dee.”
She stops and turns to me. “You mean, I was only a five-minute walk away from you?”
“I guess so. Unless I was traveling.”
“I hope you were. Because I hate to think that fate just decided I didn’t need to run into you.”
“Let’s not let her do that again,” I promise.
“Never again.” She stands up on her tiptoes and kisses me.
Delilah
“I need to just play with this bass line for a second. Hold, please.”
I sit back and wait while Songwriter Sarah messes around on the keyboard. We’re in another windowless room, of course. Since you can’t see the sky, a recording studio can make you forget what time of day it is, the weather outside, and where you are.
As it happens, we’re in Brooklyn, at the recording studio that’s only a five-minute walk from Silas’s building.
I’ve been in Brooklyn for about seven days, and it’s been terrific. My days are filled with emails and Skype chats with Charla and Becky, as my album launch is hastily planned.
My “office” has been the large sectional sofa in the living room of Silas’s apartment. I have the place to myself for large chunks of the day, so I don’t feel like I’m in the way very often. In the evenings, we go out to dinner. Sometimes it’s all four of us—with Jason and Heidi, too—and sometimes just Silas and I.
Last night we sat around on the sofa and watched a superhero movie. Usually those bore me, but just listening to Jason and Silas pick it apart was entertaining in its own right.
I’m…happy. It’s such a dull little word. Not one I’d try to put into a song lyric unless absolutely necessary. But that doesn’t make it any less fulfilling.
A few days ago, I texted Songwriter Sarah to postpone our second recording session. Charla would have canceled for me, but I like Sarah so I’d wanted
to tell her myself.
Oh no, she’d texted back. Do you hate the songs? Do you want to destroy them with fire?
I’d laughed out loud. No, silly. Still love the songs. There’s been some drama in my life and my whole schedule has changed. Right now I’m in Brooklyn for a couple of weeks with my boyfriend.
That’s when Sarah called to tell me that she lives in New York, making only sporadic trips to L.A. And that she was here right now.
“Oh! How convenient!” I’d said. So here we are in the studio, tinkering.
“Okay, I think I got it,” she says. She plays the new bass line.
“Yes! That totally works.” “Ask the Universe” is really coming along, but my head is in a few different places today. “You mind if we shut it down for today, though?”
“I don’t mind.” She scribbles a note onto the music in front of her. “Okay to turn off the recording?”
“Yeah.” I stand up, look through the glass at the engineer, and make the universal sign for cut—a hand in front of the throat.
“This was fun!” she says, adjusting her big glasses. “As always. I know you have a launch coming up, but I hope it’s not too ass-kissy to say that I am at your disposal. Generally.” She gives me a nervous smile.
“We will definitely do this again. But could I show you something? It involves a five-minute walk.”
“Sure!” She jumps up and starts shoving things into her canvas tote bag. “Where are we going?”
The walk takes ten minutes instead of five, because we stop for coffee. For myself I buy a bottled juice, because old habits die hard. Yesterday Charla Harris suggested—in that not-so-gentle way she has—that I could benefit from a therapist. “Someone to help you process the bullshit the Prepmonster fed you. Someone to help you order a fucking cup of coffee again. Say the word and I’ll find you someone.”
She probably isn’t wrong. But there are a few other questions to answer first. And one of them is about five doors past the door to Silas’s apartment. I pull out the keycard that Heidi slipped me this morning, and I let myself and Sarah into the nearly empty space.