Sex Machine: A Standalone Contemporary Romance (15 page)

* * *

I
t’s much better
the second time, maybe because my partner is sober and aware in a way he wasn’t the last time. That’s not to say it’s easy, because, hello, The Cock is never going to be easy to take there, but it’s definitely better. He takes his time and puts all the focus on making it good for me, but I can tell by his exaggerated groans that it’s good for him, too.

I’m on my knees with my head resting on my folded arms as he takes his own sweet time about it. He gives me a little and then retreats to do it all again, each time going deeper than the time before.

“Talk to me, Honey. Tell me how it feels.”

“I’m expected to talk while you’re doing that?” My voice sounds squeaky and higher in pitch than usual.

“Yeah,” he says, sounding tense. “I can’t see your face, so you have to tell me you’re okay.”

“I’m fine. You?”

“I’m about to explode, but other than that, all good.”

I smile at his confession, and I love knowing he likes this so much. That makes the pain of his entry worth the inevitable pleasure we’ll both take from this incredibly intimate act.

I lose all track of time and space and anything that doesn’t involve him and what we’re doing. I have no idea how long it takes for him to fully enter me, but once he does, I begin to focus more on the pleasure than the pain.

His fingers find my clit, which is hard and tingling with endless desire for this man who is going to be my husband.

I still can’t believe he proposed. I’d had no idea that was coming so soon, and now that we have our future planned out, I can relax and enjoy every second we have together.

“Need to move, Honeybun,” he says on a groan. “Gotta move.”

Seeking purchase, I fist the sheet and grit my teeth, preparing myself. “Okay.”

“Stop me if it’s too much.”

“I will.”

I hear and feel the squirt of more lubricant before he begins to withdraw and then presses back into me while continuing to stroke my clit.

“Ah, Honey, God… I’ve never seen anything hotter than your sexy ass taking my cock.”

I grunt out some sort of reply that’s not really a word or anything he can understand, but he gets it. He knows I’d stop him if I didn’t like it as much as he does. I push back against him, making him groan loudly, so I do it again and again until we’re both moving and coming with shouts of pleasure that will wake the people next door to us if they’re still sleeping.

My orgasm is so intense that I can’t be bothered to care if we’re disturbing our neighbors. I can’t seem to tamp the keening cries that come from deep inside me. He’s right there with me, pressing deep into me and heating me from the inside with his release.

We land on the bed in a sweaty pile of limbs. As he’s still buried deep inside me, I feel every twitch and aftershock of his orgasm.

“Amazing,” he whispers. “Just when I think it can’t get any better than it already is, you blow my mind.”

“You liked it?”

“You have to ask?”

I laugh softly at his predictable reply.

“I loved it,” he says, “almost as much as I love you.”

“I’ll never get tired of hearing you say that.”

“I’ll never get tired of telling you.” He holds me close for a good long time before he withdraws, slowly and carefully. “I hate to say it, but we need to hit the road.”

“You know, we’re both self-employed, and if we choose to take one more day for ourselves, no one can fire us.”

“I do like the way you think, land of milk and Honey, but I’ve got an important meeting tomorrow with a new client, and I’ve done nothing to prepare.”

The new nickname makes me giggle. “Oh, all right. If you’re going to be all responsible about it.”

He kisses the back of my shoulder and then runs his tongue over the shell of my ear. “I’ll bring you right back here for our honeymoon. Oh, another name for my love. Honeymoon. I like that one.”

My smile is so big I should worry about it breaking my face. We shower together and pack, and on the way out, I take a last look at the place where we got engaged, hoping we can get back here again sooner rather than later.

Blake holds the hand that now sports his ring as he drives his truck north toward Corpus Christi. We leave the windows open to breathe in the sea air as we travel along the peninsula. He’s got the radio set to a country music station out of Corpus, and the music, fresh air and the knowledge that he’s right there next to me where he’s going to be for the rest of our lives relaxes me completely.

I doze off at some point, my head resting back against the seat, happier and more content than I’ve ever been in life. That’s the last thought I have before disaster strikes.

T
his is
a total fucking nightmare that I can’t seem to wake up from. One minute we were cruising along the highway heading toward San Antonio, and the next we’re hit hard from behind, so hard that I lose control of the truck and end up in a ditch by the side of the road.

I can tell immediately that I’m fine, but Honey… She won’t wake up.

My phone flew out of the cup holder and is now on the floor of the passenger side. I can’t seem to get my hands to work right as I wrestle my way out of the seat belt and try to reach my phone on the far side of the cab. My fingers close on it, and I focus on not dropping it. A knock on the window has me looking back over my shoulder.

The man outside pulls the driver side door open. “Y’all right, man? I saw the whole thing! Called 9-1-1.”

“I’m fine, but my girl, she won’t wake up.”
This can’t be happening again. Please God, not again. I won’t survive it again. As much as I loved Jordan… No, just no.
I can feel the hysteria forming in my chest, and suddenly I can’t seem to get air to my lungs.

“Let’s get you out of there,” the guy outside says.

“No, not without her.”

“I smell gas, man. You ought to get out. I’ll help you with her.”

“Shouldn’t move her.”

“Dude, you don’t have a choice. This thing could blow at any second. Let’s get you both out of there.”

Other people materialize from outside, and, working together, we manage to remove Honey from the cab of my mangled truck. We get her settled far enough from the truck that no one will be harmed if it does go up in flames. She’s so pale and lifeless, but the first guy assures me she’s alive. “Feel right here,” he says, grabbing my hand to press my fingers against the pulse point in her neck.

Feeling the strong beat of her heart makes me weep. I drop my head to her chest and beg her not to leave me. I want to feel her fingers sifting through my hair and hear her lusty laugh and watch her gorgeous eyes light up with love and pleasure and desire and a million other emotions. We just found each other. I can’t lose her. I just can’t.

The strangers who came to our rescue do what they can to console me in the endless time it takes for EMS to arrive in a frenzy of sirens and SUVs and ambulances. After the paramedics assess her condition, a decision is made to call in a chopper to transport her to a trauma center in San Antonio. That decision strikes absolute terror in my heart, even after the lead paramedic assures me that it’s only because it’ll be quicker than driving, not because she’s in danger of dying.

You can’t convince me. Even though it’s over one hundred degrees outside, I’m cold all over. I can’t stop shaking or recalling how beautifully, vibrantly alive she was just this morning when we got engaged.

“Blake.” I turn to Clint, who was the first to help us.

“They want you to go with her.” He points to the rescue helicopter that’s landing about fifty feet from where I’m watching this surreal scene unfold like an all too familiar horror show. “I’ll wait for the tow to get your truck. Don’t worry about anything.”

I want to laugh at the absurdity of that statement.
Don’t worry about anything? Really?
But he’s only trying to help, and he deserves my thanks, not my ridicule. “I… Thank you.”

“Yeah, no problem. Go with her. I’ll take care of the truck and make sure they find you to tell you where it is.”

“Thanks.” Following behind the gurney they’ve loaded Honey onto, I jog to the spot where the chopper team is waiting for the paramedics to load her up. The first responders give a shouted assessment to the chopper crew. I’m pulled into the helicopter by one of the crewmembers, and we lift off seconds later, before I can even catch my breath or process anything I just heard about possible closed head injuries or concussions or brain bleeds.

We land at University Hospital in San Antonio a few minutes after we take off, and Honey is whisked away by the doctors who meet us on the roof. No one tells me where they’re taking her, so I run after them, hoping they’ll let me stay with her.

A nurse stops me at the doors to the Emergency Department. She takes me into a cubicle to get some information about Honey. I tell them her name is Evelyn Carmichael, but she goes by Honey. I don’t know what insurance she has. Shouldn’t I know that? I’m her fucking
fiancé
. I can’t remember her birthday, and that has me blinking back tears. What right do I have to her if I can’t remember her fucking birthday?

I brush away the tears and try to focus on what Honey needs from me. “Let me call her friend. She’ll know what I don’t.” I pull my phone from my pocket and dial Lauren’s number from memory. It hasn’t changed from when we used to hook up.

“Now why are you calling me when you’re supposed to be on vacation with my best girl?” Lauren cheerfully asks when she answers.

“Lo.”

“Blake? What? What’s wrong?”

Somehow I manage to get the words out, to tell her where we are and what I need.

“I’m on my way. Put me on with the nurse. I’ll tell her what I can.”

“Thanks, Lo.”

“Is she, tell me… Blake…”

“I don’t know. I don’t anything yet.”

“I’m coming. I’ll be there as fast as I can.”

I nod because that’s all I can do and hand the phone to the nurse, who asks Lauren a series of questions. I watch her write the March 2
^nd
date on the chart, and commit that date to memory. I pray that she’ll live to see another birthday.

* * *

L
auren arrives
five long hours later, with Garrett in tow. I’ve never been so happy to see anyone as I am to see them when they find me in the ICU waiting room. I’m allowed in to see Honey once every half hour for a few minutes.

“What’s the latest?” Lauren has called me for regular updates from the road, and I can’t tell her anything more now than I could then.

“They say she’s stable, and we have to wait and see.”

“What does that
mean
?” Lauren’s eyes are red from crying.

Garrett puts his arm around her to offer comfort she doesn’t want. She shakes him off.

“That’s all they’ve told me other than she has a severe concussion from the whiplash. We got hit hard from behind, and somehow she broke her ankle, too.”

“And they checked you out?” Garrett asks.

“Yeah, I’m fine. They said it was because I was awake, if you can believe that. She was asleep, so she was defenseless.” My voice catches as a sob erupts from my chest. “I can’t believe this has happened again.”

Lauren hugs me hard. “It’s not like before. Honey is alive and fighting, and she’s going to be fine. We have to believe that.”

“Listen to her,” Garrett says. “She’s almost always right.”

“There’s no almost about it,” Lauren insists. “I’m always right.”

Their reassurances are the only thing keeping me from completely losing my mind.

* * *

I
t’s
after midnight when I talk Lauren and Garrett into leaving to find somewhere to spend the night. The ICU nurses take mercy on me and let me sit by Honey’s bed.

I hold the hand that wears my ring, and I tell her about Lauren and Garrett showing up in San Antonio and how they went off to spend the night together, probably in the same room. I talk about all the things we’re going to do after we’re married. I tell her about the farm and the swimming hole and her photography and my construction and how we should put the two together to create a business we can run together, like the couple on HGTV that combined his renovation skills with her design flair. We could be like them, I tell her, and raise our little brood of blond-haired kids while working side by side.

I’m not sure what time it is when my parents appear outside the room, looking exhausted and upset and stressed. The glass walls make it hard to miss them standing out there, watching us.

I kiss the back of Honey’s hand and place it gently on the bed. Then I walk over to the door and step outside to talk to my parents.

“We came as soon as we heard, son,” Dad says as they both hug me. “Are you all right?”

“I will be as soon as Honey wakes up. I’m sorry I didn’t call you myself.” I asked Garrett to call them because I wasn’t sure I could say the words without breaking into a million pieces.

“We understand,” Mom says.

I run my fingers through my hair, certain it must be standing on end after hours of pulling on it. “I should tell you… While we were away, I asked Honey to marry me, and she said yes.”

“Oh, Blake,” Mom says, blinking back tears. “Oh, I’ve always loved Honey. That’s such wonderful news! Isn’t it wonderful, Mike?”

“It sure is.” Dad’s gaze shifts to the room, where Honey is attached to all kinds of machines. “Is she going to be okay?”

“They tell me she should be, but they aren’t entirely sure yet. She’s got a concussion and a broken ankle from her leg being jammed under the dash. The worst part…” I take a deep breath and force myself to stay calm. “She hasn’t woken up yet.”

Dad grasps my shoulder with his big hand. “Son, I can’t imagine what must be running through your mind in light of what you’ve been through in the past. But this isn’t like that. Jordan was killed instantly. She never stood a chance. Honey isn’t Jordan.” He takes me by the shoulders and turns me to face her. “Look at her. She’s got a good strong heartbeat, and she just needs some rest before she’ll wake up and ask you what all the fuss is about.”

Tears roll down my cheeks. I want so badly to believe he’s right, that this is nothing like the last time, but why won’t she wake up? I wipe away the tears, determined to be strong for her the way she always is for me. But damn, I wish I could run away and hide, bury myself in work or something, anything to make this terrible ache go away.

But there’s only one thing that can take away the ache, and that’s Honey.

Mom and Dad sit with me for an hour before they go to sleep in the ICU waiting room. They refuse to leave me alone, probably because they’re afraid of what I’ll do if Honey doesn’t make it—and with good reason. I can’t bear to let my mind wander in that direction.

I return to my spot next to Honey’s bed, holding her hand, stroking her hair and talking to her about everything and nothing, hoping the sound of my voice will bring her back to me.