Chapter 8

 

Monty

 

 

Before dinner, we check into our room at the resort to leave our bags and freshen up. We both order a Creole fish and rice dinner and sip wine. I’m looking at her. She’s looking at me. My baby. The woman who’s changed my life. I’m in complete awe of her.

She’s wearing a champagne-pink dress that falls to her feet. It dips at her breasts, exposing just enough to tease me. She’s wearing the necklace I gave her on the jet – the one with the heart. She hasn’t taken it off since I gave it to her.

Her collarbone is dominant and tempting. I can imagine tracing it with the tip of my tongue. Imagination will become reality as soon as dinner’s over.

“Monty,” she says, then waves her hand. “You okay?”

I turn up the glass of wine I’ve been nursing and gulp it all down. “Yeah. Why do you ask?”

Her eyes narrow.

I eat more fish, taking my eyes off her finally. I can’t help but think about how much she means to me. How, back when I first knew she was working at the estate, I ignored her and refused to talk to her unless I absolutely had to. I think back to when I’d watch her leave for work. Somehow, I knew whenever she was around even when I wasn’t spying on her. She was something special. I didn’t realize how special she’d be to me.

Now she’s my wife.

All those years I went without a relationship. Without love. All the women I’ve dismissed. Some who wanted me, some who only wanted what I possessed. For years I told myself I didn’t need love. That love would shift my focus. Make me weak. Take my mind away from the business. All the years I struggled to connect with my own emotions. To find myself. To realize that people matter. That people want to be treated like people. That everyone I meet is fighting some kind of battle and everything is not all about me.

All those years weren’t a waste. I truly feel like I was supposed to go through it all since it enabled my path to cross with Cherish’s. Some people are meant to meet. That’s why I’m certain Cherish Stevens was meant to be mine.

I glance up at her. She has a smile on her face, still looking at me in the most adoring way. I trace her lips with my eyes and hold her gaze, taking in the innocent beauty of her face. Her black hair is hanging loose. She had it pulled back earlier when we were on the trail. Now, those loose curls of hers frame her face. I’m still getting used to her new look after seeing her wear braids for two years.

“Monty.”

“Yes, lover?”

Her eyes twinkle.

I keep a straight face.

Her eyes narrow again. “What’s going on with you today?”

“What do you mean, baby?”

“You’ve been quietly nostalgic.”

I grin. “What does that even mean?”

“You were taking pictures of me today, looking at me like you were reminiscing or something and right now you’ve been hitting me with contemplative stares. That’s not like you. That’s usually me.”

I take a napkin, wipe my mouth and pour more wine in our glasses. “I’ve been soaking all of this in,” I tell her.

“All of what. Be more specific. That’s what you would tell me.” She winks.

I smirk. It is what I would tell her. “Being with you is different. It’s a lot for me especially since being married was never a part of my plan. I was supposed to be the man dedicated to the company—the man who didn’t form any romantic entanglements with anyone. The man who didn’t need anyone and for years, I was that man. I thought I would always be that man. I was set in my ways or so I thought, then you happened. Is that specific enough for you?”

“Yes, Mr. St. Claire. It is.”

I bite my lip, feeling desire flow through my bloodstream as I imagine everything I’ve done to her and yet still long to do.

“We should totally adopt one of those tortoises.”

I crack a smile. “Baby, we’re not adopting none of those tortoises. The most I’m willing to do is buy you a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle shirt or an action figure or something.” I chuckle harder than I have in a while.

She laughs. “Look at you crackin’ jokes and laughing. Is this my Monty?”

I take a sip of wine. “The other day when you were talking about how you thought we were on different levels and all that, is it clear in your mind that I don’t care about status or who you were before you met me?”

“Yes. I understand now.”

I reach across the table with my left hand open, waiting for her to place her right hand on top. She does so and I close her delicate hand inside mine.

“Even if you don’t fully understand and you’re telling me you do just to appease me, do you think I’d ever let you go?”

Her hand jerks inside mine. She knows the answer. I’ll never let this woman go. That rock on her finger stays forever through thick and thin and whatever else we encounter along the way.

I raise my brows awaiting her answer.

She finally responds, “No.”

“That’s right. I won’t. Never. We’re forever joined in this life and beyond, Cherish. I handed you my life the day I showed up at your door, begging for your help. I sealed the deal when I put that ring on your finger. This marriage, this honeymoon, being with you has me feeling like a new man. A man who has purpose. I love you with all my heart for making me feel this way.”

Her eyes glisten with tears. She blinks, keeps them at bay. “Monty…what am I going to do with you?”

“Love me. Give me your body until you’re exhausted. Give me babies.”

The waitress comes to the table – asks if we want dessert. Cherish orders some cheesecake. When the waitress brings it back, she gets up and slides her chair next to mine. She eats, then takes some on a fork and attempts to feed it to me. I refuse it.

“You don’t want any?”

“I do, but I want you to feed it to me off of your tongue.”

She looks around at the rest of the guests here.

I know what she’s thinking before she even says it so I say, “I don’t give a crap who’s here. Feed it to me off of your tongue, Cherish.”

The smile falls from her face. She looks more nervous now. “Okay. I’ll…try.”

She complies – opens her mouth to place the bite-size piece of cheesecake on her tongue then turns to me. I lick my lips and dive right in, taking cheesecake and her tongue into my mouth. I release her tongue and her bottom lip then eat the cheesecake.

“Mmm…that’s some good cheesecake.”

“You want some more?”

“No. I want you,” I say, trying to control my breathing. “Finish that so we can go to the room.”

I see her shiver. I haven’t touched her yet and she’s already shivering. It speaks to the chemistry between us. How our souls are in sync even when we aren’t physical. When we finally are chest to chest, it’s nothing but fire.

 

* * *

 

I don’t give her time to think when we step into the suite. As soon as the door slams closed, I have her back pressed against it. I submerge my fingers in her hair. I’m eating her tongue as she whimpers.

She moans, tries her best to keep up with me but she can’t. I like having that advantage over her. The dominance. The experience. My aggression is something she likes but will never get used to. She’ll have a lot of practice, but I’ll keep her on her toes. Keep her gasping for air. Calling for me.

I lower my hands to her hips the moment I realize she’s lost weakness in her legs. I delve deeper with my tongue, kiss life and death into her as I taste. When I’m done, she’ll feel like she’s experienced something close to dying and being revived.

I pull up her dress, toss it somewhere and carry her to the bed where I take off the skimpy undergarments she’s wearing.

I taste her warm skin. It’s like a chocolate soufflé on my tongue.

My baby…

She has no idea what she does to me. She thinks she does, but she doesn’t have a clue. I feel like I’m drunk and high. Her breasts intoxicate me, has me making love under the influence. I suck her navel and circle my tongue around it – dive into the very heat of her. I grip her hips and make her body my buffet, listening to her moans and cries. When her body quivers beneath me, I release her.

“Monty!” she screams.

Her body quivers more. More pants come. I crawl up over her and settle between her legs then slide to home base to connect our bodies. I don’t move, just hold the connection and the feeling of being inside of her this way. I look into her eyes. I think of how much she means to me. How lucky I am to have her. How good it feels every time we’re intertwined and lost in each other. I stare down at her. Admire her. I see love on her face and in the depth of her eyes. I swear they can see straight through me.

“Ah, I wish you had an idea how I feel at this precise moment. Mmm…”

She purrs, nibbles her lips and whispers softly, “I think I have an idea.”

I go deeper. “You do?” I ask, taunting her. Regardless of her answer, I know she has no clue.

“Monty….”

I began moving. Swimming. Stroking. Holding her still beneath me.

She circles her legs around me instantly becoming my life preserver as if she’s trying to prevent me from drowning. By now, she should know I want to drown. Want to swim to the deep end. I stroke to stay afloat, keep my head above water. I’m almost there. My breaths are labored like hers. Chest rising and falling, pumping air. Her fingernails stab me, minor pain I’ve come to love. Oh, I love it. It only makes me go deeper. Drives me to love her harder. To lengthen the strokes I deliver into her body when I know I have her primed enough to accept everything I’m giving.

I find her hands, interlock our fingers and press her hands to the bed above her head. I slow my strokes when I know she’s almost over the edge. When she’s ready to drown with me.

“Monty,” she cries for me. Tremble and shakes for me.

And just when she’s used to this rhythm, I go faster – withdrawing and diving – drifting to the deep end. I want us to drown together.

Her body quivers in a way that tells me she’s there. She screams, belts out my name and squeezes me tighter, her inner muscles doing all kind of gripping and grabbing on me. I groan, grunt and throw my head back, relishing in the feeling of releasing inside of her while powerful spasms overtake me, inhibiting my breathing. I struggle to take deep breaths while exploding, working my way through it and after I’ve bucked too many times to count, I lean down to capture her sweet, swollen lips.

I fall beside her and we rest for a moment. I find it amazing how hard it is for me to find my breath. Our chests are pumping in and out still.

We’re spent.

Depleted.

Done for.

“I can’t feel my legs,” she says, then laughs softly.

“If it makes you feel any better, I can’t feel mine either.”

She nudges me, then throws a leg across mine and rests her head on my chest. “You are too much for me, Montgomery St. Claire.”

“I know,” I say, grabbing a fistful of her hair only because I want to feel it in my hand. “I like being too much for you,” I tell her. “And you like it, too—there’s no need for you to front like you don’t.” I put my weight on her again and take another kiss. I kiss her lips. Her nose. Her eyelids. Her forehead. Her chin. “Mmm, I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

I smile. My heart is full. “We have a few more days here. I intend to make every moment count.”

“Me, too.”

“Then we’re back to Concord.”

“Back home,” she says.

“Are you ready for that?”

“For what exactly?”

“To be with me. To spend the rest of your life with me. To deal with me getting on your nerves.”

Her cheeks dimple. “Yes. I’m ready.”

“Good, because there’s no turning back now, Cherish. It’s me and you for the rest of our lives.”

A smile forms on her face – makes me want her all over again.

She strokes my beard and says, “That’s exactly what I want.”

I kiss her lips to seal this verbal agreement then lose myself in the depths of her all over again.