Long Shot (15 page)

“Palmela, I love you more than I love magnums. I want to spend forever with you, if you’d only give me the chance!”

I run back out onstage. “Oh, Bob! Bob, I love you, too! I love that you make stupid mistakes because you want to shower me with love and affection! I love that you would do anything for me! I can’t sleep without you, can’t breathe without you, I can’t orgasm without you! We belong together forever. Just, no more stupid articles, okay?”

Emilio swings his dick around. “For you, I’d do anything.”

We fake kissing sounds, and then all the guys join us on stage for a dance… to Ginuwine’s
Pony
. Peter busts through the curtains and leads us, much to the delight of the entire audience. He quit the club a few weeks back after the porn business took off, and it looks like a lot of his old fans are here.

The dance hall is packed with half-naked men in Speedos, gyrating and humping all over the place. Peter sets his sights on the newly engaged couple with Meredith. He leaps on top of the table, narrowly missing their cake, and gives them a private show. The guys are remarkably good natured about it, but I remember how well Bobby took this whole thing, too, the first time I saw Meredith.

I take my time getting around to the table because I want Meredith to look for me. I want her to want me as much as I want her. I want her to get lost in the music and remember the first night we met, where she was drunk and I was lusting and together we created this remarkable relationship, full of laughter and chases and incredible sex.

Meredith loves me, maybe loves me as much as I love her, and we belong together. She needs to taste that. Tonight, she’s laughed and she’s cried, and now I spy her from across the room, spinning in her chair, looking, presumably, for me.

I strut across the room, high-fiving the guys as we pass one another, their Speedos just as full of dollars as mine is becoming as I make my way from tipper to tipper. It’s going to be one of our most successful nights yet if it continues like this. Peter is in Jane’s lap while Bobby is taking pictures behind her. Good guy, that Bobby.

And then there’s Meredith. And I swear, for a moment, the world stops spinning.

For one sweet moment, our eyes lock, and everything blurs around us. The music, the bodies, the women, all of it slows to a standstill and there’s only me and Meredith. The way it’s supposed to be.

Then, Emilio bumps into me and Peter steps on the cake and the world catches up, but I have never in my life been more sure of anything else except this: Meredith will be mine forever. I will be hers forever. Period.

I spin Meredith’s chair away from the table, and Jane shoots me a wink around Peter’s hulking body. A smile cuts across my face, and I’m suddenly the happiest I’ve ever been. Meredith can’t take her eyes off of me, and I can see it painted all across her face, the desperate desire that I’m sure has been killing her over this last week.

“Rob, I—”

I silence her with a finger on her lips and slowly drop myself onto her lap, straddling her. We are closer than we’ve been in longer than is acceptable, and for a moment, I don’t even want to dance. I just want to savor this feeling of being close to her again. She closes her eyes and gently rests her fingertips on my chest, and I know she feels it, too.

I give her the dance of my life. I’m seductive, I’m gentle, I’m dangerous. And my eyes are only for Meredith. No one else in the room matters or exists. Just us.

Dancing for her like this is almost like having sex, it feels so intimate. A touch of her fingers steals my breath. A stroke of her face steals hers. It doesn’t take long until she can’t keep her hands off me, either, and we are inches away from kissing for the first time in an achingly long time.

But I’m not ready to give in. I tease her, dip down until with only breaths apart, and then pull back to dance some more. I do this three or four times before Meredith starts digging her fingers into my arms in frustration.

“Someone buy that girl a private dance!” One of the girls at the table yells. A wad of cash is thrust into my waistband, and I realize it’s Jane who is pushing us to the back with the private rooms.

Meredith is flushed and beaming, her hair a mess from the dance, like we’ve already had sex. She’s practically glowing. I take her hand and lead her into the back, high-fiving Sebastian as we pass in the hallway.

The private rooms are small, but spacious enough for small bachelorette parties and the like. That’s usually what we use them for. And no funny business can go down because there are cameras in every corner of the room and big, neon signs letting you know there are cameras in every corner of the room.

But that’s fine, truly. Because we are finally together again in the quiet, even if I can’t rip off her clothes and give her a screaming orgasm in the middle of the club.

I climb up on the plush table in the center of the room and shake my ass at her. Meredith giggles.

“Lots of cameras in here.”

“Yes.” I drop to my knees and dance for her, seducing her with my eyes, imagining her body beneath mine. Meredith shivers.

“It’s almost too bad,” she whispers.

“Sometimes the lead up can be just as good as the release.” I drop down from the table and straddle her again. “I think it was you who told me that once.”

“I did.” She’s breathy and sexy beneath me. “I’m surprised you remember.”

“I remember just about everything you’ve ever said to me.” I grind against her slowly, dragging the length of my cock against her tight dress. I can feel her trying to keep composure, and losing. “Merie, I love you.”

She’s quiet, doesn’t look at me.

“I’ve loved you for maybe longer than I’d like to admit. But my life isn’t the same without you in it. I fucked up, I fucked up bad, but I would break the clock in two if it meant fixing everything. I’ll do anything you want. I’ll crawl through fire and cut glass if it means we can be together.” I press my length against her, and her legs part slowly, like she wants to welcome me inside her. If only I could. “I love you.”

She finally looks up at me, tears in those long lashes, and whispers, “I love you, too. Now fucking kiss me.”

There is nothing that makes me happier in this world than obeying my woman. Nothing.

T
here’s
a brief moment between waking and opening my eyes that is utter perfection.

Next, there’s a moment when the hangover sets in where memories flood back and horrify a person. Where the thin veil of mental protection between events that transpired under heavy alcohol use and the sane half of the brain dissipates and the reality of what happens comes crashing in like a hurricane. Or a dump truck. A really, really loud dump truck.

I am living that horror. Wisps of sunlight penetrate my eyelids until I give in and open them

Time for the daily checks.

In my room (sort of): Check.

Phone nearby: Check.

No one in my bed: …. Not check.

I lay a hand over my eyes and let the rest of the memories flow through me as a nasty hangover creeps in. I can feel it along the edges of my brain, ready for me, haunting me. Not exactly my most favorite feeling in the world, but we’re sort of old friends at this point.

Memories downloaded, I roll over to survey the body in front of me. Long, lean, shaped like cut glass, rising and falling softly as if in the middle of a deep sleep, but I know better.

“I had the most horrible dream.” My voice is thick and rough. I stretch and try not to move any more than needed after that. Maybe if I’m really, really quiet, the hangover monster will forget I’m here. “I got married to a stripper.”

“In mine, I got married to a dick photographer,” Rob croaks and rolls over, his eyes dancing with mischief.

“Thank god we just got engaged,” I tease.

There’s a tense moment where we stare at each other, probably letting the severity of the night before filter in and really settle around us like snow. Then we both laugh.

Rob takes my left hand and studies the diamond solitaire on my finger. “It looks prettier on your finger than it did in the store.”

“Impossible. The store has perfect lighting.” My arm is covering my eyes again, but I relish the feel of his hand on mine. I’m officially never not having it again. “We should have had less champagne, maybe, though.”

“I needed to make sure you wouldn’t leave.” Rob kisses my hand gently and runs his thumb over my fingers. “Master plans and all that.”

“Jane was in on it.” I announce my suspicion as fact. Rob is quiet and kisses my hand again. “You two are thick as thieves, and I’m not sure I like it.”

I reach over to the nightstand and grab a bottle of mouthwash. On his side, Rob does the same. We pause our conversation to swish.

“She’s going to be my best man.” Rob tucks my arm under him and scoots closer, nearly enveloping me in his closeness.

“She’s my sister, you can’t have her.”

“I can have whatever I want.” He gently kisses me, tender and quick as a pair of butterfly wings, and brushes the hair from my face. “You. Your sister as my best man. Bobby as the ring bearer. Whatever.”

The image of Bobby as a ring bearer makes me laugh. “Whatever. Just because you have a dick doesn’t mean you make the rules.”

“But I got the girl.” He kisses me again, deeper this time.

I move for another kiss but he’s moved away, and I pout. Rob grants me another kiss and I pull him in to stay there, relishing the feeling of his lips on mine, of the way our bodies feel entwined together. The time apart left me feeling like I was missing a limb, and I’ve only just now reacquainted myself with it. “But that still doesn’t mean you own me.”

“Not even with this pretty little stone?” His eyes squint when he teases.

“Not even with this pretty little stone. I can easily take it off.”

Rob looks offended. “Don’t you dare.”

I shrug casually, a twinkle in my eye, but can’t hold up the rouse much longer. “I would never.”

“Good.” He rewards me with another kiss, this time letting his hand wander down to my collarbone and my entire body tenses with excitement. “Then I won’t have to punish you.”

“Maybe I’ll punish you.”

“Oh?” His hand dips further down, navigating the narrow valley between my breasts. My breath catches, my heart races, and the space between my legs immediately dampens. He walks his fingers back up my smooth skin, never once giving in to the desires swimming through me. “I’d very much like to see you punish me.”

“Don’t tempt me,” I whisper against his lips. My free hand grazes his crotch over the blanket and I can feel his own breath hitch. I take my hand away. “That’s a game you won’t win.”

Rob grins broadly, full of teeth and warmth. “I think this marriage is going to be a lot of fun.”

My whole body runs warm. Marriage. As in, we’re going to get married. As in, I agreed to marry him. As in, we’re going to spend the rest of our lives together.

“You don’t regret it, do you?” he asks quietly, not quite looking at me. Like he’s afraid I’ll agree with him. Like he’s afraid I’ll give the ring back. It’s adorable. And reassuring. It means he will never, ever take to the internet again. Although, after my mother finished reaming him last night, he’s probably more scared of her than me.

Luckily, Grandma assured him he is most welcome in the family.

I grab his face with my free hand, palming his cheek and lowering his gaze to meet mine. “Rob Callas, I said I would marry you and I meant it.” I pause. “Unless you drunkenly proposed to me and didn’t mean it.”

He cracks a smile. “Oh, yes. I’ve been wasted for over a week, planning this whole thing. Peter had to hold me straight in the jewelry store. Actually, I don’t think I’ve ever laid eyes on this ring before while sober…”

His eyes twinkle. I roll mine. We kiss.

Nothing has felt more perfect, more like home, in a very long time.

“You really want to marry me?” I ask. “Even though I take pictures of other dude’s dicks?”

“Yep. You really want to marry me? Even though I take my clothes off in front of other women?”

I laugh. “We’re quite the pair.”

“We’re the perfect pair.”

This time, when we kiss, I feel the full weight of his emotions behind him. I feel our loyalty, our love, our dedication to one another despite these bizarre paths we travel. In that kiss, I know our Happily Ever After is within reach. There will never be another man, another pair of carved abs, another cock of incredible magnitude, that will ever replace him. There will never be another short skirt or pair of tits that will ever replace me.

We came together with careers that were outside the box, that my mother should never learn about, and somehow found each other in a perfect sweetness. Maybe it’s not so bad that I’ll be forever known as the chick who takes professional dick pics… because the girl who takes professional dick pics found her soulmate on the stage of a shady strip club.

Who cares about the journey if the destination is everything you’ve ever wanted? The only thing to do in this moment of pure, raw emotion is to say exactly what I feel, be unguarded and vulnerable.

“Hey Rob?” I ask. “Wanna do it?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

He buries his head between my breasts, and I force his mouth over my right nipple. Rob hovers there just a moment, his warm breath against my erect nipple sending shockwaves through my body, before he finally succumbs and runs his tongue around the dark tint of my areola. I try to wiggle the nipple into his mouth, but he stills me with the push of his hand and moves over to my left breast to tease me incessantly in the same way. I claw at him, desperate, frantic, needing him more than ever.

Nothing dissuades him. He’s back to my right nipple, poised over it, grinning wickedly at me. “You have no idea how much I dream of this body.”

His hands wander over my body with sweet caresses, and he ends in my center, attentively pleasuring my clit in the same motion as he pleasures my nipples. It’s mere seconds before my mind starts to run blank, and everything within me coils expectantly. His fingers intensify against me.

“I—” I lose the ability to speak as I crash over the edge. Rob moves to kiss me, a satisfactory grin on his face.

He looks proud. I push myself up to my elbows and study him in the filtered light through my curtained window. He’s immaculate: strong, balanced, confident. I swing myself onto my stomach and take in the entire length of him inside me. Rob groans in surprise, his hands tangled in my hair. Watching him slowly fall apart is one of the sexiest things I have ever seen. His gaze is hot with lust and passion and so much love I feel I could burst.

Rob buries his face in my shoulder and breathes hard, as if he’s gathering his strength or trying to push off an orgasm. Little by little, he slowly pulls out and enters me just as I asked. My body is still desperate for him, still wound like a taut string, and each thrust pushes me closer to the edge of a steep cliff I can only beg to be pushed off of.

I wrap my legs around his middle and pull him in tight. Rob presses our foreheads together and gently kisses me. “We don’t have to have sex for six hours. We can just do it again later,” I whisper. He scowls at me, but I laugh. “I’m three seconds from coming again.”

“Come with me,” he orders, sending his hips into another forceful thrust.

I obey again and again and again. The electrical currents shooting through my body are relentless, and I have to press myself against Rob to keep from flying away. He comes with me, grunting in my ear, telling me he loves me.

I’m not naïve. I know there are fights in our future, maybe even as soon as tomorrow, but in him I find the strength to be myself, to try new things. I feel myself stretching and growing, learning and accepting, and knowing that together, we can accomplish the impossible.

Which is why I’m only moderately surprised about the job offer Rob reads from his email as we get dressed.

“I need a ham and cheese croissant like a camel needs water.” I pull on a pair of jeans and try to ignore the rumbling in my stomach. “Did you hear that?”

“Hangover’s best cure. Besides sex.” He grins wickedly. “Ever heard of SocialNews?”

I shake my head. “Nope. What is it?”

“Some new online startup. Listen to this: they want us to come work for them. Their first photojournalism couple. They loved my article and they loved your composition, and they want us to start Monday.”

I freeze. “They don’t specialize in dicks, do they?”

Rob shakes his head as he continues scrolling through the phone. He looks up at me and smiles. “It’s real news, Merie. They want me to write them real news articles.”

“They want me to shoot real photos?” Excitement creeps into my voice and chills break out across my body. “Real ones with real people with clothes on?”

“Real ones with real people with clothes on.” Rob tosses his phone on the bed and scoops me up. We spin in a circle and I let out a ridiculous squeal. “We’re going to be legit, Mere.”

“Super legit!” I’m so happy I could cry. “What’s the pay like?”

“Terrible! This will just be a passion project!”

“I have so much fucking passion,” I tell him as we hop up and down. My mom will finally stop asking about bordellos and porn fetishes every time I talk to her on the phone.

“It’s Thursday, Meredith. Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” he asks me.

“That it’s our last chance to get drunk before the weekend?” I offer.

“Exactly. Put your pants on. We’re going out.” I sigh. Perfection.