Impulses (77 page)

“For once, I think you are the one over dressed, beautiful,” he whispers, ogling down at me with wild eyes. I feel my body being enveloped in the finest of silk at his endearment. I never thought I would hear him call me that again.

“All in good time, Mr. Wentworth,” I reply, my hands roaming rapaciously over his body before setting onto his heavy erection that waits for my attention only three inches away. A bead of due is secreted when I circle his tip with the pad of my thumb and I softly massage it over the velvety crown, before removing my thumb and slipping it into my mouth.

Gasping, his lips part as he watches me.

I pull my thumb free, allowing it to rest suggestively on my lower lip as I whisper, “I missed this taste,” and I notice Hayden’s cock strain in the lower periphery of my vision.

He growls and thrusts towards me as I wrap my right hand around his base and stroke him at a languid pace. I watch my actions and the way his cock looks in my hand as I exhort my control over him, insisting upon his pleasure. I feel his hand gripping in my hair, his body shuddering. Seeing the pleasure dance across his features as his jaw tightens and the whistle of air hitting his teeth as he draws in a breath has me unable to resist any longer. I trace the tip of my tongue over his head, before lowering my mouth onto him, my tongue working over each prominent vein of the silk-sheathed steel that rests in my possession.

“Ah…” he moans, and it is such a virile sound, that I instantly feel hot desire pool deep within me, the emptiness I sense between my legs is unmistakable. Spurred by his sounds of gratification which I am responsible for, I force my legs together and feel the dampness begin to coat my thighs.

“Enough,” he pushes me off him and swiftly bring me to my feet. Loosening the corner of my towel that is wrapped around my body, it falls heavily, landing at the back of my heels. He gazes on me with sinful intent, “I want to feel you.”

Then he sinks down with me as I lay myself back onto the bed, covering the width of the mattress. His hair hangs over his brow as he hovers over me, setting the length of his body between my thighs as they fall open further.

“Look at me; I want to see the look into your eyes as I bury myself in you.”

I’m adrift as I lay back looking into rich, deep chocolate eyes from overhead. Pulling his hips back he gently penetrates me with exact precision. I groan loudly, tipping my head back as I bask in the fullness of him stretching me, satiating me, reconnecting with me. The extent of stimulation he elicits as he pulls back and slides into me over and over, grazing the sensitive spot of my front wall is both fanatic and tremendous.

His rhythm and skill causing my toes tingle and curl as I wrap my legs around his hips and glorify in the sweet sensations, the intimacy, for I feared I would never have the opportunity to experience him like this again.

My hands roam the working, flexing muscles and sinews of his back as I cradle him against my body. Feeling his shoulder blades move as he bears his weight through his arms that are on either side of my head, and it’s so…masculine, as he works our body’s to climax.

“I love you,” he whispers, rocking against me.

“I love you, too.”

Throughout our panting and pleasurable groans and grunts, I’m not only held by the weight and heat of his body, but also the weight of his love, devotion, a silent bond which lay in the shadows of his darkening eyes––there’s something so damn sexy witnessing the look in your lovers eyes as they sought your pleasure, along with their own.

Within moments, I become aware of myself tightening, floating off this earthly-plane, my muscles humming and vibrating, constricting and coiling in extreme and intense receptivity. My toes are locking forcefully, my fingertips digging into Hayden’s shoulder blades as I sense the tightening in my lower back, a seconds warming that I’m nearing my release.

His tempo increases, his drives more insistent. We clutch at each other bodies, holding one another tightly as we bow to our body’s demands, and meet the explosion of our release, together.

Laying side-by-side, I rest my head on his shoulder and trace tiny circles on his chest with my index finger. Hayden withdraws his right hand from his stomach, and captures my hand, drawing an end to my invisible creative doodling on his pectoral.

“I love you, so much, Samantha.”

“And I love you, Hayden. You are my other-half. With you, I feel complete. I’ve never felt that way before.”

He pulls my hand up to his mouth, and kisses the back of my knuckles before settling it just below his chin. His coarse stubble prickles and scrapes me in the way I love, a way that makes me feel alive.

“Me neither, beautiful. And now I know how it feels, I never want to lose it.”

His words form a tight, heavy sphere of love in the pit of my belly. He always knows the right things to say. But now, it’s about reminding him to recognize the copious amount of good that we are together, and disregard the bad.

I reach up and kiss him chastely, prolonging our period in our untainted bubble, where it’s just us, two people who have made mistakes, but are fighting to become stronger, and are ready to move forward together, as a family.

“So what were you planning for tonight, beautiful?”

I bend to retrieve my pink, fluffy towel and wrap it around my body. “Well, I was in the process of sneaking into Jessie’s bathroom to pinch her bath salts.”

He’s lying on his side, propped up on his elbow, and still splendidly naked. It’s challenging to maintain eye contact, and not to stare at the rest of his enticing body.

He furrows his brow.

“I was going to take a bath, but I couldn’t bring myself to use the same salts we used,” I explain through my embarrassment and make an effort to force back my blush.

“Well…” he forces himself up, and settles on the edge of the bed. Capturing my hips, he pulls me between his legs. My concentration is fleeting with his hands skimming up and down my thighs. “Why don’t I run a bath and we can have one together?” The warmth and compassion in his eyes falters briefly. “Unless you would prefer I go home?”

 Framing his face, I beam down at him. “Stay. I don’t want to wake up tomorrow and find that you’re not here. I’ll think that this was all a dream,” I wince, recalling the dream I had woken from yesterday morning and the feelings of devastation and dejection which followed.

He acquiesces and stalks into the bathroom, giving me the advantage to watch his back and shoulder blades flex and his magnificent ass walk away from me, while I pop down the hall and enlighten Jess on our current repute.

“Are you sure this is a good idea, sweetie? I mean, I’m all for you being happy, I just don’t want to see you hurting again. If he left you once, he could do it again––quite easily.” Jess holds my hands as I sit on the edge of the couch, my towel barely covering my body.

“Jess, it was me who walked from him. I did it because I couldn’t be the reason for him to stomach that hurt. But we are going to look to the future. We have Rose to think about and…” I shake my head, feeling a sudden gulf of emotions knocking me swiftly onto my behind. My throat feels tight, and my eyes begin to sting with unshed tears of what? Happiness? Relief? Fear? The events of the last forty-eight hours, added with my rioting hormones from my pregnancy are putting me in overdrive.

Our sisterly moment is cut short as Matt emerges from Jessie’s room, “What about The Evil Dead for tonight’s movie, babe?” We turn our attention simultaneously on to the muscular, blond-spiked giant, his shoulder resting on the doorframe of her corridor, holding the DVD case in his hand while focusing distractedly on the back cover.

“Matt!” Jessie squeals in censure, wrenching him from his absentminded concentration.

Peeking up, he glances at my lack of attire. “Oh, sorry, Sam,” he apologizes and quickly turns around to face the hallway he just came from.

I fall under Jessie’s judgment anew as she tucks a lock of hair behind my ear. “I am happy if you are happy, sweetie. And I will always be here if you need me, regardless of anything, big or small. I will always be here.” And she enfolds me into one of her infamous Jessie-strength embraces, muttering, “I love you,” in my ear.

I’m greeted by Dido as I step back into my empty bedroom.

“Hayden?” I close the door securely behind me.

“In here, beautiful.”

I walk passed the unit where my iPod is docked, and push open the door to my bathroom. I am met by a wall of vanilla essence, both from the bath salts and the tea-light black candles that Hayden has scattered around the bathroom. I pinch myself and slump inwardly, reminding myself that this is in fact reality. Marveling at the degree of his consideration, I offer a bashful smile and sink my teeth into my lower lip.

“Care to join me, Miss Kennedy?” his voice is husky and rousing, practically a purr. His arms are stretched, resting on the lip of the corner, shell-shaped tub. I am tempted by the devil himself, with the flickering, gilded-glow reflecting off the moisture of his bronzed flesh, but I cannot deny the appeal of lying wet and naked against his body. I drop my towel and stroll toward him. “I take that as a yes.”

Ever the gentleman he is, Hayden holds his hand out to me and I step into the depth of the bath and sink into the foam.

“I can’t believe you did all of this.” I settle myself between his legs and rest my head back onto his chest. He pushes my hair back then rests his lips against my temple.

“I’m just thankful you didn’t discard our candles,” he answers, setting a tender kiss on my head.

We rest against each other for what seems like hours, but I would be more than contented to stay this way for an eternity. Our feet rub together; our hands explore each other, before he settles on my bump.

“How did you manage the last few days?” I know I shouldn’t ask, and I instantly regret that I allowed the words to pass my lips, but that morbid part of my curiosity wants to know if he found it just as hard as I did.

My upper back rises as he inhales greatly. The golden glow from the flames around us dance and flicker in time to the beat of another one of Dido’s love songs. Finally he says, “I smashed up the apartment.”

“You did what?” I gasp and flare my eyes. I never considered him to be violent. This is news.

The water sways and sploshes as his hands rub soothingly over my expanding, firm abdomen. “I’m not proud of it, Samantha. It’s not the way I would normally act. But like I said earlier, I have no use for my sanity if I don’t have you.”

All of my judgments are halted as I discern a sudden alarming sensation in my belly. I freeze and concentrate on the tiny, repetitive flutters. All I can say is, “Oh.” And then it’s gone.

“Oh? What’s wrong, beautiful?”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” I mutter. “Keep talking to me.”

“This is transmuting into a very strange conversation, Samantha.”

I quickly press Hayden’s hand down a little forcefully onto my bump. “Can you feel that?” he sits motionless, waiting. “There? Did you feel that? Tell me you felt it.”

“Is she moving?” his voice is soft and curious. I nod my head enthusiastically. “I think she’s too small for me to feel outside yet, your body must be sensitive to feel her at this stage. What does it feel like?”

“Like small, repetitive flutters, little bubbles popping. Oh, God this is so strange.”

“Daddy loves you, Rose,” Hayden calls, and I feel the flutter again.

“There it is again. She is definitely a Daddy’s girl.”

As he snares my jawline between his thumb and index finger, he coaxes my head around to face him. No words fall from his lips, they don’t have to. When you love someone so much, everything that is needed to be said, needed to know, can be told within the depths of one another’s eyes…the windows to the soul. And with that, we are lost once more within the boundless love and mutual hunger that can never be sated.

Sunday was most definitely not a day of rest for us. It passed in an array of hands, mouths, naked bodies, and sweet, intense sensations as we made up for the lost time of the prior few days. Everything we did took place in the bedroom. I dash my tongue across the seam of my lower lip and blush at the memory of us sharing a pint of cookie dough ice-cream––the way it melted on the spoon and dripped onto his golden chest, the combination of tastes which my tongue luxuriated in––the cold and rich texture of the cream upon the smoothness and deliciousness of Hayden’s naked torso. The recollection alone is enough to prompt certain muscle spasms. I squirm in my seat, regretting that the sexual, stimulating and suggestive part of our reconciliation has lapsed, and a normal work day has commenced.

“Sam, it’s nearly lunch.” Chloe’s sweet voice pulls me from my erotic daydream.

“I’m going to stay here, Chloe. My legs just don’t want to work today.” Even standing feels like a chore at the moment. I cannot shift the bothersome, dull backache that has had me wincing the last few days; I’m uncertain as to who is to blame: Rose, for possibly taking up a position on a nerve, or Hayden with all the sex. I smile at the latter.

“Are you sure? Do you want me to bring you something back?” She pulls out a compact mirror and her lip-gloss from her purse and applies a coat to touch it up.

“I wouldn’t say no to a grilled chicken salad wrap.”

“With salsa or cool mayo?” she asks as though giving me an option will make the decision easier. Pressing her lips together, she drops her compact and tube of gloss back into her cream designer purse.

“Both.”

She chortles and shakes her head jovially. “What about Mr. Wentworth?”

With my mind now solely concentrating on food, I sigh, pick up the handset and press the speed-dial for Hayden.

“Hey, Chloe is going to lunch, she’s picking up something from the deli. Do you want anything?” I twist the end of my hair around my finger.

“I’ll have the same as you.”

“How do you know what I’m having? And do you want it with mayo, salsa or both?”

“You always have the same, and I’ll have salsa please,” he breathes down the speaker, and I can hear the faint scraping sound of him writing in the background. “And can you come to my office, please.”