Welcome to this week’s edition of Tuesday Tales, the blog made possible by Jean joachim and some very talented authors. Each week, we blog a scene from a work in progress based on a particular word. Once a month, we work with a image instead.
I’m back with Paul and MJ and Wedding Bell Blues, my contemporary romance. The plot is winding down, so I’m sure there aren’t any more than three or four posts left from it. Since it’s my full time writing project at the moment, it may be even fewer than that. This week’s offering is spicier than what I normally post, so I hope I won’t offend anyone. The word this week is CRY.
This picks up with Paul and MJ making love for the first time.
Paul felt his heart swell. The look of trust in her eyes was more than he’d ever expected. Gently, as if he were opening a precious, rare gift, he spread her legs and gradually buried himself inside her. As he moved, she clenched around him and held him tightly. Soft yet firm, her sweat-slicked body was everything he expected and more, fitted to him in every way possible despite their difference in size. He wouldn’t last long, but it didn’t matter. She was on the verge of shattering and with one deep thrust, her cry of ecstasy brought on his release. Together, they climbed to Heaven and slowly free-fell to Earth.
Chest heaving, Paul rolled off MJ, not wanting his weight to crush her, turned on his side, and pulled her to him. Outside, the wind continued to howl, the rain lashed the windows, but for the first time in years, he was content and at peace. He kissed the side of her neck, and she snuggled into his arms. Words weren’t necessary. They’d crossed a bridge and burned it behind them. There was no going back to the way things had been, and they would have to carve a new path together. He closed his eyes and let sleep claim him.
A gentle shove in the ribs woke him.
“Come on, sleepy head. Release the death grip,” MJ said and chuckled. “I need to go, but I promise to come right back.”
Paul grunted—it seemed the best thing to say—and let go of her. She was cheerful, but once she realized the implications of last night, she might not feel the same way. After what had happened between them, there would be no annulment.
He opened his eyes and rolled over, noting his body was still eager for his bride, but maybe he needed to slow things down just a little. Last night, neither of them had considered protection. While he wanted MJ in his life for however many days the Good Lord gave him, he couldn’t see himself as a father, but he didn’t shoot blanks. MJ could be on the pill, but if she’d broken her engagement in January … He’d noticed boxes of condoms in the resort’s store. He would have to find a way to discreetly pick some up today, because if MJ was willing to continue the physical side of their relationship, he was more than ready and able to do so.
The only sound in the bungalow was the water running in the bathroom. After last night’s gale, the silence was eerie. Getting up, he pulled on his underwear and walked over to the window, pulling open the drapes. In front of him, the lagoon was strewn with floating debris. The chairs and tables that had been on the deck were gone. Put away by the staff last night before the storm, or blown away? He wasn’t sure which was correct.
“Oh my God,” MJ said, coming to stand beside him. “Where is everything?”
“I don’t know,” he answered, turning to pull her into his arms, pleased when she didn’t resist. “Good morning.”
“Good morning,” she said shyly and stood on tiptoe to kiss him. He met her halfway. The moment their lips met, it rekindled his need for her. Sweeping her off her feet, he carried her to the bed, shed his underwear, and removed the t-shirt she’d put on.
“I don’t think I will ever get enough of you,” he mumbled into her neck before losing himself in her once more.
* * *
MJ turned her back to Paul in the shower and allowed him to soap her body. They’d made love twice, and each time was more magical than before. Even now, she could feel his erection as he moved his hands from her back to her chest to soap her breasts. He was insatiable, but then so was she. She’d never been this wanton and giving in bed before, and as Carla had put it, Mark had never rung her bells, but with Paul, she had a whole damn carillon going on. The touch of his hands set her body on fire, and she turned to him anxious for more.
It was several minutes later before sated and finally clean, Paul turned off the water in the double shower. No words of love had been spoken, but she was fine with that for now. Baby steps. He’d already given in to his physical need for her. It was someplace to start.
Her stomach grumbled loudly.
Paul laughed. “Does someone need to be fed?”
“I do. All this exercise has left me starving,” she said, wrapping herself in one of the two white robes on the back of the door and walking over to the counter where he’d made coffee. She grabbed a banana from the fruit bowl. “What’s for breakfast?”
“I know what I’d like to eat, but maybe something else would be in order. Let me call the kitchen and see what I can do.” He picked up the receiver, but the line was dead. He frowned. “The phones are down. It looks like we’re going to have to go to the lounge for breakfast. It’s just after nine, but I’m sure we’ll be able to get something there.”
“At least we have power. It went out during the night,” she commented, going to the drawer to select some of the sexy underwear Carla had insisted she buy, grateful she’d agreed.
“Probably working off a backup generator. If the phone lines are down, the main power lines probably are, too. Let’s go see how much damage the storm has done. It might shake up planned activities.”
“You mean the treasure hunt?” she asked, getting the rest of her clothes out of the drawers.
“That, too.” He grabbed a pair of underwear and started to dress. The domesticity of the scene warmed her. There was no awkwardness between them. Things had changed, but he seemed okay with that.
Ten minutes later, dressed in white crop pants and a turquoise tube top, the turquoise pendant Carla had given her once more around her neck, MJ slipped her feet into white sandals. Paul had applied sunscreen to her shoulders and she’d opted to leave her hat here. After all, they were just going to the lounge.
When Paul opened the door, she couldn’t stifle her cry of dismay. All around them, branches from palm trees and other tropical plants littered the wharf and the water. Near the beach, two of the majestic Roystonea trees, better known as royal palms, had been uprooted and blocked the path leading to the hotel.
“I was doing some reading while I was waiting for you yesterday,” Paul said, holding her hand as he led her along the wharf. “Apparently, there was a huge storm the night La Corneille’s ship sank.”
“If there was,” she said, eying the tree trunks in their way, “maybe whatever was lost surfaced again. Even if it didn’t, I’ll bet there are all kinds of neat things thrown up on the ocean side.”
Paul smiled. “Ever the optimist, aren’t you?” He kissed the tip of her nose. “But you’re right. There should be some interesting stuff blown ashore. Here, let me help you.”
He picked her up and stepped over the trees. Other than leaves and smaller branches, nothing blocked the rest of the way to the main building.
“Looks like the iguanas are having a feast,” she said, nodding toward at a couple of the reptiles munching away at the heads of the trees. “If they get to eat like this after every storm, no wonder they’re the size of dinosaurs.”
Don’t forget to check out all the other posts on Tuesday Tales.