I've never been filled like Duncan Willis fills me. I've never felt the pressure and the stretch that hurts while at the same time feels like heaven. My entire body overflows with waves of pleasure as he drives in, over and over. When I open my eyes, I see his face contort. His expression equals mine, pain and pleasure mixing as his orgasm builds. For the second time, we come together.
I should probably worry about all the women he's been with or that the rumors claim he has. But at that moment, I don't want to think about it. And since he used protection and I've been on birth control since college, pregnancy isn't an issue.
Although it isn't a concern, for the first time I actually entertain the thought of being pregnant, of wanting to carry someone's baby inside of me. I've never wanted that before; even when Timothy and I were talking forever, my career seemed more important.
Now maybe it doesn't sound so horrible. It’s probably because we’re on our way to my home, to the land of babies and puppies and happily-ever-afters. I never wanted that, but maybe, just maybe, the idea isn't beyond comprehension.
And then I remember: this isn't real. The sex may be mind-blowing, but love is still fictional.
"Pretend," I say quietly as Duncan collapses on top of me, his hard, toned chest covering me and smashing my boobs.
"Fantasy," he corrects with a kiss to my forehead.
Fantasy is pretend. I don't say it out loud. It's just to remind myself that this fantasy weekend won't last. Even pretending it will would be the beginning to heartache.
I steady myself in the small but incredibly luxurious bathroom as I finish fixing my hair. The hairdo I had at work can be counted as a casualty of my lifelong membership into the mile-high club. No longer all pulled up, I complete a loose ponytail that rests upon my left shoulder as I smile at my reflection. Never can I recall feeling this relaxed and content on my way back to my family.
Putting my lipstick back in my purse, I decide to apply only gloss. Color isn't needed. My lips appear red and swollen on their own, no doubt from all the attention. Even blush isn't needed. My cheeks have their own rosy glow.
Maybe I'm not relaxed, but satiated. As the plane moves and I shift, I'm painfully and pleasurably aware that every muscle in my body is tender and happy all at the same time. I’ll call this fantastic ache the spoils of war. Spoils that I'll be happy to collect all weekend.
Thankfully, when Marsha said our luggage was loaded, she meant in an area we could access. After I cleaned up, there was no sense putting back on my work clothes.
I take one last look in the mirror at a more casual Kimbra, probably the most casual that Duncan has ever seen me. I stifle a giggle. That isn’t exactly true, considering that not long ago I was totally nude, wearing only his trim, toned body as a blanket; the reflection in the mirror is more dressed than that.
Opening the door to the cabin, I'm met with a smiling Duncan, green eyes shining. My breath catches as the vision of him stops me dead in my tracks. He's leaning against the wall of the cabin, thumbs tucked in the pockets of his low riding jeans, and wearing a blue checkered, button-down shirt, untucked with the sleeves rolled to his elbows.
"Miss Jones," he says, his deep, velvety voice twisting my already-tender core. He reaches for my hand and spins me around, his gaze a heated flame to my skin as if he can see what I've covered. "You're lovely." He lifts my ponytail revealing my bare shoulder, the one left uncovered due to the large opening of the neckline of my top. "And I like this." My head tilts to the side, allowing him access as he kisses the exposed skin.
"M-Mr. Willis..." My thoughts and words disappear as his hand finds the lower hem of the shirt and caresses my skin beneath, making his way higher until the tips of his fingers find my strapless bra.
"Oh, I was hoping that no strap meant no bra."
I giggle. "May I remind you that we're about to see my mom, dad, and grandma?"
"May I remind you that I'm a boob man and yours are perfection? They should be free." He stops his soft caress with one large hand still palming the cup surrounding one of my breasts. With a serious expression—which considering his hand placement is hilarious—he asks, "You have heard the old saying, haven't you?"
"What saying would that be?"
"If you love something, set it free."
I shake my head and move away from his touch. Reaching for his hand, I blatantly scan him from head to toe. "I've never seen you without a suit." I tilt my head back and forth as my lips thin. "Except when you weren't wearing one—or anything."
Tugging my hand Duncan pulls me against him. "Kimbra, I've been a shitty boyfriend for the last five months. No wonder you haven't told your mom much about me, but I plan to make up for that."
The warmth of his embrace radiates through me as the hardness of his chest presses against my breasts. "And how do you plan to do that?"
He tilts his head toward the bouquet. "By filling this weekend with new experiences for both of us."
"I think this flight deserves more than one flower."
"You do?"
"Well, there's the club."
"Yes," Duncan says, "you are now officially inducted—lifetime. I'll have Jorge draw up your certificate."
My forehead drops to Duncan's chest as heat reddens my cheeks.
Duncan lifts my chin until our gazes meet. "You're so beautiful when you blush. Oh, and when you call out my name, and curse, and shatter around me." His eyes twinkle. "See, I made you do it again."
"Blush or come?"
"I was talking about blushing, but we can arrange the coming too."
I clear my throat, trying not to remember the way his scruffy chin abraded the inside of my thighs or how good his tongue felt... I shrug. "That was why I thought a few more flowers were warranted, but I'd hate to give you a bigger ego than you already have. You seem very sure of yourself, Mr. Willis."
The plane begins to descend as Duncan walks over to the bouquet. "How many flowers, Kimbra? One for each time you came."
My lips purse to one side as I count. There were two the first time. Then one and then another...
He plucks half a dozen flowers from the bouquet, an assortment of different ones.
The phone from one of the seats begins to ring. With a wink he goes to the chair, the flowers in one hand, and answers the call.
"Thank you, Marsha. Water would be nice. Yes, we'll take our seats. Yes, you're welcome to bring it to us."
I lower myself to the seat beside him. "Oh God. I bet she knows."
Seemingly unconcerned, he reaches for the two lone flowers still resting on the other chair and hands them to me. "I believe those represent our first kiss and your induction."
I nod.
Next, he hands me another red rose. "The first time you came."
I glance toward the remaining five flowers.
Five?
I'm truly not sure. At one point they overlapped, the intensity almost more than I could handle.
Avoiding the numerical subject, I ask, "Why are these flowers different?"
Duncan hands me the rest, allowing me to hold the bouquet we've created. "Because each time was unique, like these flowers. Like you." He nods toward the large vase. "And today is only Thursday. I can't wait to share more flowers with you."