It can’t last, though I want it to—I want it to last forever. He gasps, “So good, too good, fuck, fuck, Lucy,” as he shoves one hand between us, reaching to find my clit. One deep thrust together, then another, and I feel his cock convulse inside me with a wordless groan I haven’t felt in so long. He's buried to the root as he comes, and between the feel of his cock as it twitches and the feel of his fingers thrumming my clit, the orgasm takes over.
I'm helpless, just coming and screaming. I'm sure the driver can hear us but so what?
I collapse against Drew as I finish, spent, emotionally and physically. Taking in the harshness of his own breathing, the rise and fall of his chest against mine, I nuzzle my face into his neck, just taking in his scent.
Mine, mine, is all I can think as I feel the slickness and warmth of our coming together, of his seed spent inside me coating my thighs, of his softening cock still within me. Yes, mine. Impossibly. But somehow. Mine.
It seems so silly now, after everything, to have kept the truth from Drew for so long, to have avoided him for so long, but then, we have so much to discuss. Everything feels right just in this moment, his declaration in front of thousands unmistakable, but still.
“Drew?” I speak softly against the salt of his sweat soaked neck.
“Mmmm?” his hum sounds tired.
“Does this mean I can keep my job?”
He makes a surprised noise and pulls back, holding my shoulders so he can look at me. “You thought I would fire you—over this?”
I blink, as confused as he appears to be. “Yes? I mean, we crossed lines I shouldn’t have let us cross, and I was worried you’d think—”
His index finger finds my lips. “Lucy,” he says seriously, “I knew the condom broke. I knew what could happen, I just didn’t fucking care, not if it was with you. So no, I’m not gonna fire you, never would have, and it’d really suck if you don’t keep your job since there’s no way I’m finding another manager who’s willing to fuck me between sets.”
I smack his arm in protest, but there’s no real anger in it. “I’m not adding that to my contract,” I warn, “so no guarantees.”
“Oh.” He grins at me. “I think that’s a risk I’m willing to take,” and with that thought, his lips tangle on mine.
Yes, there’s still a lot to discuss, but as he kisses me again, I think there’s nothing we can’t work out together.
Epilogue
Drew
“Dreeeeeeew!” she calls, and it's such a novelty to hear my confident manager actually whine that I can't help my chuckle. “Where the hell are you taking me? I need to call the movers again. I'm still missing two boxes of stuff.”
“Patience.” I lean over her from behind, kissing the back of her ear. “Pretty sure we've established good things come to those who wait.” I feel her light laugh through her skin. I stand up straight again, making sure the silk blindfold remains secure before steering her once more by the small of her back.
My house in L.A. is sprawling, like many such houses in Hollywood Hills, and I move her through a hallway to finally land in the far corner of a room I rarely visit. It used to house memorabilia, relics from my career. Colin had insisted I needed such a space to house my Grammys and various other things I've accumulated along with fame. But these things mean nothing without someone to share them with, and I've recently decided on a better use for the space. I'm sure Colin would understand.
“Okay,” I say as I untie the blindfold. “You can look now.”
As Lucy looks, I watch her widening eyes, the little "o" she makes with her mouth in surprise, the swish of her short blue maternity dress as she turns a circle, taking it all in. I look around myself just after, experiencing it anew.
The back wall we face is one enormous window with a gorgeous view of the cityscape below, the same view all the rooms on this side of the house share. There's a desk by the window facing the view, antique mahogany, delicate yet grand. On the clean gray walls are several paintings of varying sizes, original art she had liked when we attended a gallery opening several months back. One wall is also occupied by a large leather sofa—I definitely have plans for that sofa—while the other contains a tasteful modern bassinet alongside a mahogany changing table.
It's clean and colorful, yet tasteful and refined with the barest touch of whimsy. The designer did a damn fine job; it’s Lucy down to the studs. I only hope she thinks so too, that she loves it as much as I love her. She deserves to love it.
“Drew,” she says slowly, carefully as her eyes scan the room. “What is all this?”
“Yours,” I answer simply, and she whirls around to blink up at me in confusion. “Your new home office,” I clarify.
“But—” she begins to stammer, shaking her head, but I'm having none of that. Lucy deserves this, and anyway, I want her to be the most effective manager to me and the best possible mother to our child and this will help with both.
“Look—I know you were reluctant to move in, didn't want to disrupt my life, whatever, but I want it to be disrupted.” I reach out to stroke her cheek and the way she leans into my touch, affection hits me anew. I fucking love this woman and the only way she can really disrupt my life now is to refuse to be a part of it. At the heart of it, really. Her and our baby. Our baby. The thought fills me with content as it always does these days.
“I guess the baby was bound to do that anyway.” She smiles up at me ruefully and I smile back, giving her a quick peck on the lips as I reach the hand that had been on her cheek down to rub the swell of her middle. She's due in a few weeks and it shows. I can't help but find it hot that she carries our child within her, can't help how much I appreciate that it marks her for the world as mine.
“I know you were worried about having a workspace here,” I finally say as my thumb strokes her belly over the fabric of the dress she wears. “So I decided to make sure you have one. “But,” I continue, “if you hate it, we can change it. I can call the designer right now if—”
“No, Drew,” Lucy cuts me off; she's crying. Oh shit, I've fucked it up. But she doesn't give me long to fret. “No,” she repeats, shaking her head. “I love it, it's perfect, it's just—it's too much.” She's smiling through her tears and I pull her to me and just hold her. “It's way too much,” she repeats, and I can feel her tears soaking my shirt. The way she lets down her walls for me has me clutching her more tightly. She's mine, I'm hers, there's nothing that could be too much.
“Not enough,” I whisper. “Never enough.”
“No,” she insists, pulling away from my chest, moving her hand up to my jaw as her green eyes meet mine, her smile radiant as always. “Always enough. More than enough.”
Then her lips brush mine, just where I want them, just where they belong. And as Lucy pulls me towards the new couch, the kiss becoming heated, I know we are about to christen it.
Everything is right with the world.
THE END
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Chapter 1.
Alyssa
These shoes were the wrong choice for this party. Not even an hour in, and it feels like I'm stepping on nails. Big ones. But, given everything, the party isn't as bad as I thought it would be. Let's be honest, who actually wants to go to work parties--especially for a company they haven't even started to work for? But I didn't have anything better to do tonight. If we're honest I rarely have anything to do that's social. Sigh.
But the music here is actually from this decade and Saxon Hotels, Inc. didn't skimp on the alcohol. It could be worse. I look across the room for Molly--the girl from HR who let me know I was hired and invited me tonight. She greeted me and then promptly abandoned me, which is why I am currently making my permanent residence the shadowy corner by the drinks table. But, like I said, it could be worse.
A blonde girl wearing a pink dress approaches the table of drinks. The dress hugs curves on her that are frankly just unfair. As if she can sense me thinking about her she's suddenly looking at me, and then she's gliding over. "You're Alyssa, right? Molly told me we had a new hire, and you're the only person I don't recognize."
"Yeah, that's me." I smile, "I figured I'd skip the awkward first day and go straight to getting drunk with my coworkers."
"Solid choice." She says, "We do enjoy getting drunk. Though this is nothing compared to our New Year's Party. People usually don't make it through that one unscathed." She scans the room, "You see that guy over there? That's Mark. He's the typical bender guy--you know every office has one. Last New Year's he got so drunk he bought everything in the vending machine and woke up the next day shirtless and covered in cheetos."