Impulses (40 page)
“I’ve missed these hands,” I breathe against his lips.
“I’ve missed this body,” he pulls away and examines my eyes. “I’ve missed you,” he says pointedly, and then his lips claim me anew.
We are a blend of lips and hands, with Hayden kneading my breasts with pleasurable force at the same time as my own hands roam down his body and squeeze the decadent bulge filling his jeans, overfilling my hand.
I prop my right leg up onto the closed seat of the lavatory, and his hand reaches under the tiny piece of material that hides my feminine secrets. As his touch strikes at the aching, throbbing, southern part of my anatomy, I thrust my hips further, welcoming his touch and my guttural whimper of appreciation travels inside his mouth.
“I need you, Hayden,” I rasp pulling away from his lips. And in my state of unconcealed urgency, fumble with his belt buckle and zipper. I push my pelvis up to meet the heel of his hand appealing to his fingers, silently urging them to sink inside me. My motion is granted and Hayden forces one finger inside, pushing past the tightness of my walls, before adding another.
It’s been so long that even now, with only two of his skilful fingers inside me, circling me and prepping me to accommodate his glorious cock, that I sense that familiar fullness, that invasion you reap when you are penetrated by something exquisite.
I free his erection from the denim material and his Calvin Klein shorts and he angles himself beneath me. I feel his tip just piercing into my hollowness, followed by the delightful, satisfying feeling as he impales me slowly. I grasp at the edge of the washbasin behind me with my left hand, while my right arm coils around Hayden’s neck. Tipping my head back while he works against my body, I gasp as I indulge in the much needed firmness and plethora of his body inside me.
He propels into me with fervor and vigor. “I’m getting close, Sam.” I gaze up into his deep, passionate eyes. He brushes his tongue against his lips, and parts them again. “You got to hurry up, baby.”
My right arm falls from around his neck and I reach down to where our bodies are connected and form frantic circular motions over my swollen clit. The combination of Hayden penetrating me and clitoral stimulation is sensation overload. And my legs soon weaken with every precise, rapid execution of both cock and fingertips. The tightness of my core is so intense.
“Hayden, hold me,” I pant heavily, and his hands bore into the flesh of my ass as he supports my weight.
With lunging hips, vigorous strokes and strenuous breaths, I let go and embrace my relief as I come hard around his cock, my body quivering and vibrating as I spiral downward with the pull of every muscle that constricts with delectable force. My walls clench and pulsate around him. He thrusts once more, then stills. His fingertips tighten at my thighs while he begins his rather loud release.
Surprised at the unsuspected intensity falling from his lips and resounding around the cubicle, I raise my hand and cover his mouth in an attempt to muffle the sound of his vocalized climax. His eyes are screwed shut as he releases his generous volume.
“Holy fuck,” he pants, his face interred at the crook of my neck. “That was…” I feel him roll his brow over my left shoulder as we strive to regulate our labored breaths.
“Amazing,” I finish off his sentence on a harsh, outward exhalation.
He nods his head.
Pulling away from my shoulder, he holds my face between the heats of his hands and I’m captivated by his warm, ardent smile and the affection which teems in his eyes. He brushes his thumbs over the arch of my cheekbones and seals his mouth around mine, bestowing tender, lasting kisses on my lips. Supporting his forehead against mine, Hayden, as always, leaves me wanting more when he pulls away from my mouth. I never want to encounter another day where I fail to have his mouth or body on mine in any way, shape or form.
Hayden’s thumbs continue to caress my cheekbones in smooth, repetitive, stroking motions.
“That was a first,” I whisper.
Hayden sniggers and smiles as he pulls out of me, and adjusts his pants. “I’m glad we could experience a first, together.” He pulls up his fly and strokes the back of his knuckles down the side of my face. His mouth uplifts into a loving beam with a nuance of relief and contentment. “Put your panties back on...” he orders, and I am shocked by the shyness that floods over me with his words. I sink my teeth into my lip as I blush, and grin profusely. “I’ll meet you outside.”
As he sets his hand on the door handle, I set my hand on his forearm. He whips his head around to face me, his hand still resting on the cold metal as he regards me with bated breath.
He may have relieved the ache that I held, but I still hunger for him, for his love, his touch, his penetrating scrutiny. I am an addict and he is my fix. At times, the love I hold for this man is overwhelming…absolute. After the highs and lows the last few weeks, I can’t even deliberate the chance of ever losing him. Yet, I was convinced that I was losing him––that he was slipping from me.
This substantial change in his attitude since this morning makes me realize that, patience really is a virtue.
“I know…me, too, beautiful,” he answers my unspoken sentiment. I drop my hand from his arm and allow him to leave, before the kind, overly made-up air hostess’ suspicions rise.
I flop into my seat and outstretch my legs; reveling in the extra space as I cross them at the ankles. No wonder they have so much legroom in first class, with how tight they pack passengers who fly in coach.
I tip my head back against the backrest. Hayden covers my right hand with his left. Feeling sated and composed, I roll my head against the rest and face him. His fingertips rub gently over my knuckles, and soon a burning sensation radiates from the chafing surface.
“Can I get you anything, sir, ma’am?” the blond, heavily made-up flight attendant asks, intruding on us as we delight in our afterglow.
“No, thank you,” he replies, his rich, chocolate eyes continuing to bore into me.
“Very well, sir.” She ambles down the walkway.
“Excuse me, Miss,” I call back after her. She turns on her heel and approaches our places for the second time. “Actually, could I get a roast beef sandwich and a mineral water please?”
She nods her head once like she is acknowledging the Queen of Sheba, and I can’t suppress my inner chuckle as she scurries back down the walkway.
“What?” I snicker at Hayden, his eyes wide with overt amusement. He flashes his all white, American boy smile and shakes his head in what I can only fathom as fascination.
“Oh, Samantha…you never fail to amuse me.”
“Amuse?” I furrow my brow. “Isn’t it supposed to be amaze?”
Hayden throws his head back in cathartic mirth. “I think amuse is a more significant in this case.”
“Well, in case you haven’t noticed, Hayden Wentworth, we just worked up an appetite.” I pout frivolous at my lover beside of me. The lover who was hiding somewhere, trapped behind an array of diverse thoughts and frustrations. The man I fell for, my lover…my Hayden.
I regret not considering the temperatures for New York at this time of year. I would have at least worn a pair of denim pants and a turtleneck, instead of a denim skirt and a camisole. I snicker to myself as I consider our passionate frenzy on the plane. I never thought I would become a member of the mile-high club. Hayden’s perfect, softly spoken words soon follow,
I’m glad we could experience a first together;
it
makes my heart swell twice the size and beat twice as fast.
I have been burrowing my way into Hayden’s side for nearly forty minutes as the cab transports us from JFK to Fifth Avenue in an attempt to share some of his body heat. Hayden rhythmically massages his fingertips through my hair, massaging my scalp with each tender stroke.
“Hmm,” I keen with appreciation. Struggling to keep my eyelids open as his touch soothes me into a near-comatose state.
“We’re here, beautiful,” Hayden mutters in my ear, removing his left arm from around my shoulders. I hadn’t even notice that we had stopped. I boost myself up and rub my hands down my face in a feeble attempt to regain full consciousness.
After tipping the driver, he exits the cab, and rounds the vehicle to hold my door open. “After you, milady,” he teases and offers his right hand to aid me out.
Hanging my purse over my shoulder, I shake my head and grasp his hand. “You are crazy,” I chuckle.
He pulls me further onto the sidewalk and slams the door behind me. “I’m crazy in love, my love,” he croons drawing my body flush against his in a tight, protective embrace. His hands glide down my back as he leans in to kiss me. But I place my hands on each of his pectorals, in a futile attempt to push him away and struggle playfully out of his grasp.
But my guffawing weakens my body and as a result, my arms lack the strength to push him away.
“Our love must be a kind, of blind love,” he warbles as he rests his hands on my backside, and sways us back and forth on the street.
“Hayden, please…” I look around at the bystanders meandering along the avenue. “People are watching.”
“I can’t see anyone, but you,” he continues vociferously and I feel my face flame with my blush. The embarrassment is too much, yet I cannot stop smiling or laughing.
I attempt to squirm out of his grasp again, but each time, his grip on my body becomes tighter and tighter. His hands wander here, there and everywhere, using my body as his own personal, private playground.
“Hayden, PLEASE!” I try to sound stern, but his carefree air is excessive and a joy to bask in. My ribs ache from my side-splitting laughter, my makeup is probably all streaky from the tears that roll down my face. The New Yorkers across the sidewalk stand and observe, while the humiliation of my handsome, alluring lover––although a slightly unconvincing vocalist––serenading me on Fifth Avenue, begins to lessen.
I give up trying to escape from his clutch, and sink into his warm embrace instead. “I only, have eyes for you,” he concludes, his hands still parked neatly upon on my backside, my arms encircle around his neck. We resume swaying back and forth in time with the traffic, and his less than perfect warbling…yet, it is so perfect.
His one hand leaves my ass, and is repositioned on the side of my face. He beams down at me, his eyes brimming with ardor. He’s glowing.
Shifting my arm from around his neck, I brush it gently through his thick, floppy hair. Pushing the lock off his brow, I take advantage and continue to smooth my hand all the way back into his hair, finally meeting the nape of his neck. His silken tresses fall sleekly from between my fingers.
I gaze up at him deep in thought, and shake my head before heaving a sigh. This man is so fucking beautiful, yet he’s so fragmented. But as long as we have each other, we can survive the obstacles in our way…I’m sure of it. I feel a sphere form heavy in my chest at the profoundness of my love and respect for him.
“I love you, Hayden Wentworth.”
He bows his head down to me. The tip of his noes runs down the length of mine, before he rests against my brow. “And I love you, beautiful. One day, you will realize how much.” He curls his mouth in an indicative smirk that reaches up to his hypnotizing eyes, making them crease in the corners.
“Well, if we don’t get inside, I fear that my extremities will be no more, when that day finally comes, honey.”
“Very good point, beautiful.” He turns to face the vast building that we stand before. I peek up to find the canopy of The Peninsula illuminated like a bloody Christmas tree with two reindeer rearing on both ends and mini Christmas trees gracing behind them, in a way that boosts holiday-spirit. The handrails on each side of the entrance steps are decorated with ivy, holly and red bows.
I am completely lost for words as I stare enraptured at the spectacle.
“I have never seen anything so…so…”
“Festive?” he asks quizzical before crooking his arm. Without hesitation, I coil my arm around his and nod in wide-eyed disbelief. “There are only a few places that have their decorations up yet. Personally, anything before Christmas Eve is too damn early for me.” Hayden leads us up the steps and gallantly holds the door open for me to enter.
“Really…? Christmas Eve…? There’s no point in decorating if it is left that late,” I mutter, still standing on the steps of the hotel as Hayden waits patiently at the door.
“When do you––”
“December first,” I state candidly and Hayden gapes at me with wide, wondrous eyes. I walk passed him as he presses his back against the door and enter the lobby while he flails his head and clicks his tongue in amused disapproval.
After we check-in at reception, we make our way up the wide, ostentatious, tiled steps with a magnificent, russet runner casing the center. Dazzling, white Christmas lights which are coiled around yet more ivy with crimson, velvet bows spiral around the metal balustrades. A refined metal table with an intricate design rests on the landing before us and adorned with numerous long, thin candles; their flames flickering to a silent melody in harmonious grace. And impressive Christmas trees grace the left and right wings as we are led to the galleries of the upper floors.
From the moment I fixed my eyes on the display that adorns the exterior of the building, to the dazzling bejewelled and garlanded tableau that graces the interior of the luxury hotel, I feel the magic of the Holidays approaching, and for the first time in over fifteen years…I sense that childlike, innocence that we all harbor become enlivened, and also appreciative that I have been offered the most resplendent gift I could ever wish for. I glance to the man holding my hand, walking by my side as we ascend the stairs together. Regardless of his ups and downs, our highs and lows, I am grateful that I have been blessed with him.
I can see my reflection in the black, gleaming tiles that greet us in the foyer of the twentieth-floor suite. My heels click and clack with every stride I take over the flooring, as I begin to sink lower into the grand regions of the rooms. I idly recall the embarrassment I felt at the same noisy interruption I made as I entered the lobby of Stalwart Tower on my first day of work.