58
“Dillon,” I whisper, staring in amazement at the small marquee erected on the roof. Strings of colored lights decorate the interior, and the floor is covered in a myriad of vibrant patterned beanbags and large cushions. In the center is a low glossy black table set with candles and silverware. Incense wafts through the air from a few diffusers set up around the space. In the corner, a narrow rectangular table holds plates and covered silver platters.
“Do you like it?” he asks, and I realize I haven’t said more than his name. He looks at me with so much vulnerability, and he seems so young in this moment, so unsure of himself.
I clutch his arm, smiling up at him. “I love it. This is amazing.” I skim my eyes over his black button-up shirt and black pants, and my mouth waters. The sleeves of his shirt are rolled to the elbows, highlighting his gorgeous, strong muscular arms. He’s tan from spending so much time outside with me this summer, and it looks good on him. “As are you.” Grabbing his biceps, I press a long, lingering kiss on his lips. “You look so freaking hot.”
Leading me inside, he kneels to remove my high heels so I can sit cross-legged on the large cushion in front of the table. “I cooked an Asian-themed meal so I thought we could eat like this,” he says, looking nervous.
Leaning down, I kiss him. “This is fantastic. Thank you for going to so much trouble.”
After an exquisite meal, all cooked by Dillon, I sip prosecco while he serenades me with his guitar and that husky voice I could listen to all day.
When it gets chilly, we head inside to my bedroom. Dillon clearly snuck in here when he said he was going to the bathroom because there are rose petals on the bed and the only light is from the various flickering candles strategically placed around the room. My half-packed luggage is propped against the wall, serving as a poignant reminder of my imminent departure. But I’m not thinking about that now. I want to enjoy every second of our last precious moments together.
Throwing my arms around him, I kiss him hard, devouring his mouth as my fingers pop the buttons on his shirt. I slide my hand under the band of his pants, finding him hard and warm, ready and waiting. Without speaking, I remove his pants, boxers, sneakers, and socks and crawl on my knees between his legs, taking him into my mouth.
His fingers weave in my hair as I suck and nibble on his straining length, wanting to savor every second. Dillon’s gaze is brimming with emotion and burning with desire as I lavish attention on his dick.
Lifting me by the arms, he pulls me to standing, planting a firm kiss on my lips, sliding his tongue into my mouth while lowering the zipper on my dress. It falls to my feet, and I step out of it as Dillon scoops me into his arms, carrying me to the bed. He makes quick work of my bra and undies and begins licking and kissing a path along my skin, taking his time worshiping every part of my body.
There’s a softness to his gaze, a tenderness to his touch, that is wholly new, and I’m enjoying this gradual sensual buildup until neither of us can take it anymore. Nudging my thighs apart, he holds himself still, his cock poised at my entrance. He leans down, brushing his nose against mine, planting a sweet kiss to one corner of my mouth, and then the other, before claiming my lips in the lightest kiss as he slowly and carefully inches inside me. He’s not wearing a condom, but we stopped using them after Brittas Bay. Now I’ve felt him moving inside me without one I can’t go back. I’m on the pill and he usually pulls out, as an added precaution, coming on my stomach or my breasts.
Every other time we’ve been together, it’s been fucking. But not tonight. Tonight, Dillon makes slow sweet love to me, and if I wasn’t completely in love with him before this, I certainly would be now. He is unhurried, teasing sensations from my body with rolling hips, sensual thrusts, and tender strokes. His lips skim across my face and my neck, while his hands roam my breasts, softly cupping their weight, before he gently sucks on my nipples as he moves inside me with utter devotion.
I don’t even realize I’m crying until he kisses my tears. Then he’s crying too.
How can my heart feel full of joy and pain at the same time? How is this happening when I have to leave and there is no promise of a future for us? What have I done to deserve such wicked suffering?
“Viv.” He kisses me as he quickens his pace. “God, I don’t ever want to stop feeling this.”
“I know,” I sob, throwing my arms around his neck and holding him close as my legs tighten around his waist. “This is the best feeling in the world.”
We come together, bodies joined in every possible place, and we stay entangled in one another for a long time, both of us afraid to move, unwilling to break this connection.
Eventually, he pulls out of me, and we lie side by side, skin to skin, fingers laced together. He’s wearing the saddest, most heartbreaking expression, and I feel something vital rupture inside me. Something inherent is imploding inside me in a way I’ve never felt.
“I love you,” he blurts, and I simultaneously want to jump for joy and die.
No, Dillon. No. Please don’t say it to my face. Don’t make me say it back. It will destroy me to tell you I love you and then leave.
“Don’t leave,” he adds when I say nothing because I can’t force my vocal cords to work. I’m in too much pain to speak. Tears cascade down my face. “Stay,” he whispers. I cry again, my chest heaving as pain ravages my body, forcing every muscle to shudder and shake uncontrollably. His lips brush my ear. “Say I’m the one.”
My heart cracks wide-open, and I want to scream yes! I want to tell him heisthe one. That I long to stay with him. But I can’t. It isn’t possible. There are too many obstacles in the way. Lifting my tearstained face to his, I plead with him to understand. “I can’t. I’m sorry.”
I watch him shutting down. Bit by bit, the wall goes up, and he retreats behind it. Nodding tersely, he swings his legs out of bed. “Then I guess that’s it.”
I sit up, panicked and confused. “Please don’t go. I thought you were going to stay tonight?”
He cracks out a bitter laugh as he pulls his clothes on. “Why delay the inevitable? We might as well do this now.” Shoving his feet in his sneakers, he turns around with his pants on and his shirt unbuttoned. I cower at the aggression and rage painted across his face, pulling the covers up over me to shield my body, feeling suddenly vulnerable. “It’s not like you really care. If you did, you’d want to stay.”
“I do!” I stand, wrapping the sheet around myself. “I wish I could stay here with you. I swear I do. But it’s not possible, Dillon.”
“Anything is possible if you want it badly enough.”
“That’s not fair!”
“What’s not fair is you making me love you and then leaving to go back to that prick!” he roars in my face, spittle flying in the air, and I take an automatic step back, plastering my back to the wall.