I let out a whimper and he replied with a soft moan. “Ohh,” he said against my neck. “That’s so warm and sweet. How are you so fucking sexy?” He shifted his hands down to my ass again. He spread his fingers and pulled me toward him. At the same time, he changed the angle of his hips and I let out a moan as his cock slid just a little deeper inside me. He brought his mouth back to mine and kissed me softly. Then he began to flex his hips. Forward and back, just slowly for the first few thrusts, and then he started to pick up pace. He held my hips steady, a tight grip on my backside, and immediately, I felt my arousal spike. Judging by the colorful swear that he breathed when I started to whimper with pleasure, he was just as turned on.
It wasn’t deep penetration, but the friction on my clit was amazing. I moaned and whimpered as he thrust again and again, holding me tight in his hands as his hips rocked forward and back. All the while, his mouth was just below my ear, licking and sucking and kissing my neck. My head was swimming in no time, it felt so good. I loved the idea of coming like this—on Danny’s cock in my own kitchen—but I wanted that intense orgasm, too. I wanted to delay the pleasure until it grew impossible to resist.
“You need to talk to me, Ella,” he said, lifting his mouth to my ear. His breathing was a little quicker than a moment before, but I could tell he was in control of himself. “I could feel when you were close to coming earlier, but I’m going to need some help this time. Can you do that?”
I nodded. “Yes, yes.”
He pressed his mouth closer to my ear. I felt the wet heat of his breath when he spoke. “Tell me what you want. Tell me what you want me to do.”
I groaned, thrilled by the intimacy of his voice in my ear.
“Dîs-moi,” he said. His lips were now touching my skin, and his voice was an urgent, but barely audible whisper. “Tell me. Do you want me to fill you up? Fill you with my cock?”
I groaned again, thrilled by the dirty talk, and gasped. “Ohh God. Yes! Fill me up, Danny.”
Immediately, the pace of his thrusting hips increased, making me moan again. His tongue swiped across my earlobe, sending a wave of pleasure through me. Again, his voice was soft and slid directly into my ear, warm and sexy.
“Comme ça? Like that?”
“Yes, yes. Like that.”
“Fill your pussy? Dîs-moi. Tell me.”
“Fill me up, Danny. Fill my pussy.”
He groaned and it was so loud against my ear I jumped. But the next second he started moving faster and his hands slid to my hips, where he gripped me tightly.
“Say: remplis-moi,” he whispered. “Say it in French.”
I did, and he groaned and picked up his pace.
He drew back and looked at me. “Baise-moi.” he said. “Say it.” I saw him swallow hard, clearly very excited. “Say: Fuck me. Baise-moi.”
“Baise-moi. Oh Danny!”
“Fill me! Remplis-moi!”
I repeated him, thrilled by the assertiveness in his voice. “Remplis-moi! Ohh Danny! God, yes! Fuck me! Fill me!”
He thrust harder, faster, our bodies slapping hard, loud in the empty kitchen.
“Tell me when to stop, Ella. Don’t let me go too far.”
I was close, but not quite in danger of coming.
“Remplis-moi!” I was pleading now.
“Oh God. Yes.” He thrust harder, his eyes wild. “I’m filling you, my sweet. Filling your lovely pussy.”
I groaned and clung to his shoulders, paying careful attention to how close the peak was. One more minute and I’d spill over the top, but that left me another thirty seconds.
“Ohhh Danny,” I groaned, locking eyes with him. “Ohhh Danny! Yes, yes! Yes!”
His wide blue eyes went wider. His fingers dug into my flesh and I felt him begin to thrust a little softer, concern in his expression.
“Tell me when, Ella.” His voice was soft. “Tell me, sweetheart. Arrête, arrête…”
“Not yet,” I gasped. “Not yet. Ohh God. Ohh God…”
He stared as I whimpered and moaned for a few more seconds, until finally I pressed hard against his chest, pushing him away from me.
“Arrête!” I almost shouted it.
He stepped back, I stepped back, and we both stood there panting hard, staring at each other. My pussy was throbbing, so close to a climax, but now suddenly robbed of penetration and friction, it ached and pulsed with delicious longing.
“Oh. My. God.” I breathed. “That…that was close.”
Danny’s hand went to his cock, which he very slowly stroked as he stared at me.
“I felt it,” he said, shaking his head and starting to smile. “You were so tense. God, that’s exciting, sweetheart.”
I laughed, thrilled by so many things at that moment: the pleasure I’d just felt, the ache I now felt, and the lusty look on Danny’s face.
He approached me and kissed me, his hand still moving on his cock, then he turned me around and pressed his cock between my ass cheeks. He groaned and I could feel how hot and hard he was. His hands came around and cupped my breasts and just held them. He pushed his hips gently, just nestling his cock between my fleshy cheeks, and rocked back and forth, pleasuring himself for a few seconds.
I sighed and leaned against him, trying to relax, to push the desire to climax from my body and mind. It took a few minutes, but Danny waited, his cock leaking fluid against the small of my back as he continued to rock his hips against my backside.
When I was ready I made to turn around, but he stopped me.
“Can we do it like this?” He reached between us, bent slightly, and angled his cock so it pressed between my thighs. “I like this view, too. Of your pretty little backside.” I felt the head of his cock press against my sex and automatically adjusted my position, going up on my tip toes and arching my back slightly.
“Do it,” I said. “Fill me up again.”
I looked over my shoulder at him, wanting to see his face as he pushed himself inside me.
Such a handsome face: pale skin with a smattering of light freckles; deep blue eyes; his wavy auburn hair a little disheveled and damp at the hairline. But at that moment, it was the look of lust he wore I found the most attractive. His brow was furrowed with concentration and arousal, and his mouth hung open just a little. Just enough I could see his pink tongue.
I teetered on my toes for a second until he began to press himself inside me and then he adjusted his body a little, taking a wider stance, and I was able to relax. I groaned as my pussy slid down over his cock, and once I’d reached the depth this position would allow, he groaned, too.
He reached around me again and cupped my breasts and began to knead them lightly. A moment later, he started to move, once again starting slow and gradually picking up speed.
“Oh God, Ella,” he moaned. “I love being inside your beautiful body. You’re so exciting, so sexy.”
I put my hands over his, loving the heat of his palms pressed so tight against my breasts, and relaxed into his thrusting hips. Slowly, his pace built until we were both breathing fast. The position we were in felt incredible, but I could tell it wasn’t going to bring me to orgasm. It was a different story for Danny. I could hear his breathing getting ragged until he finally pushed hard and groaned, holding himself inside me.
“Arrêtez,” he gasped. “Don’t move. Ohhh God. Don’t move.” He sounded tortured and I knew he’d been on the verge of a climax. He took a full minute to recover before he could relax. His hands slipped down from my breasts to my hips and he pulled me close. I felt him grind against me, pushing himself inside me. “God, that’s amazing,” he said in a groan. “I’m dying to come inside you. Ohh God, I want to. I want to…I want to fill your pussy with cum, my sweet.”
“Do it,” I said. “Come inside me, Danny.”
He groaned and pressed me harder against him, his hands spread out over my pelvis, holding me tight. He took a deep breath, let it out, sending a warm burst of breath across my bare shoulder.
“Not yet. I have to pace myself,” he said after a few seconds. “Just…just give me a minute.”
I relaxed against him and sighed in contentment. “Take all the time you need.”
He took a couple more minutes before he started to move again. His hands slid up my back and to my shoulders. He gently applied pressure and I understood what he wanted. I understood and it sent a thrill through me.
I bent forward and his warm hands slid back to my hips. I braced my hands on my knees and leaned back just a little, finding my balance. He gave me a few seconds and then started to rock his hips back and forth, filling me slowly.
I turned my head to look at him. His eyes were focused on his cock sliding in and out of my pussy, and the look on his face was incredibly arousing. I watched him for a full minute before he looked up. He grinned, and then groaned, and began to fuck me a little harder. He held my gaze as he did and little by little his expression turned dark and lusty.
He adjusted his stance slightly and began to fill me harder, his hips slapping against my ass as he buried himself inside me again and again. When he spoke, it was in a low voice, entirely in French, and too quick for me to understand it all. I caught a few words, most of them filthy, thrilled to know he was so turned on he barely seemed aware of what he was doing.
Watching him, my arousal surged and I longed to reach between my legs, to touch my clit, to get myself closer to an orgasm, but he was thrusting too hard, and I couldn’t move my hands without losing my balance. So I leaned into his thrusting hips, letting him pleasure himself with my pussy. I could feel his thrusts getting more intense, and his fingers dug into my hips harder and harder until he groaned, swearing in French, and drew his cock from my body.
He stepped back, gripping his cock, and gasped a deep breath. His whole body shuddered as he let it out, but he took another deep breath and seemed more in control. A second later, he was reaching for me. He pulled me to him and pressed his hand between my thighs, his fingers curling around my sex until he could slide his fingers inside me.
“Your pussy is too, too delicious,” he whispered against my mouth. “You almost made me come again. I love your sexy body.”
He growled in a lusty way and kissed me again, sucking my lower lip when I moaned. His fingers inside me felt so good, but it was his palm pressed against my cilt that really turned me on. I pressed down against it and was rewarded with a thrill of pleasure. I rocked my hips slightly and moaned again.
“Oh! Ella. Your pussy is already…it’s so tense.” He gasped as I rocked my hips again and again, essentially fucking myself with his fingers while stimulating my clit on his palm. “Oh God, Ella, my sweet girl. Are you going to come?”
He wasn’t moving now, he just held himself in place, letting me get off. He was clearly excited by how turned on I was. Our eyes were locked and I could hear my low moans increase in volume as I got more and more turned on.
“Do you want to come like this? Comme ça, chérie? Avec ma main? With my hand?”
I groaned, a little frustrated, and pushed him away again. His fingers slid from inside me and I backed away, leaning hard against the kitchen island.
“God, you’re practically dripping you’re so wet,” he breathed, staring at his glistening hand. He brought it to his erection and began to stroke himself slowly, spreading my wetness over his whole cock. I leaned against the counter, trying to control my breathing, and watched entranced as his cock slid in and out of his fist.
“Tell me what you want, sweet. I’ll do anything.”
I wanted his cock. I wanted it inside me. I wanted to suck it. To suck him until he came, until he filled my mouth again. But I wanted him deep inside me, too. I wanted to feel his thickness spread me open. I wanted to feel his hardness slide inside me as deep as it could. And I wanted him there when I finally came.
I straightened and grabbed his free hand. All I could manage to say was, Bedroom, but my intent was clear enough. I pulled him behind me, and once inside, I climbed on the bed and lay back, spreading my legs, leaving him with no doubt in his mind what I wanted from him.
He breathed a soft curse, but he smiled, too, and a moment later, he was moving onto the bed and between my thighs. He positioned himself, hesitated a second, and then pushed slowly, easing his cock inside my wet hole. We both groaned, already so turned on.
He pushed deep, pushed until he reached the limit, and then lowered his body, and pressed his mouth to mine. He kissed me so softly, slipping his fingers through my hair, just holding himself inside me.
“You’re so beautiful,” he said. “So beautiful.” He looked at me, his face so close, his breath on my open mouth. His expression was tender, loving, and it made my whole body warm with a different pleasure from the one I felt with his cock inside me.
“I wasn’t kidding earlier,” he said. He lifted his torso a little and looked down at me. “When I said I’d marry you in a heartbeat—when I said I’d wait forever for you.”
He gently lifted his hips and very, very slowly drew himself out, then pushed himself deep again, even slower on the downward stroke. He filled me completely, and repeated the motion with careful control.
“Maybe you don’t want to get married again, I’d understand that, but if you’re ever decide you want me, Ella; I’m yours. I’m yours forever.”
He continued very slowly, very gently filling me up, and a warmth was building inside me, a mix of arousal and love; a complicated desire.
.
“If you don’t want to move to France, I’ll come to you.”
His hips rose higher, then dropped a little more quickly, and he very gradually began to fuck me in a slow, but steady rhythm.
“I’ll move back to New York to be with you,” he said, his voice catching as he gasped with pleasure, dropping his hips to mine. “I’ll go anywhere for you, Ella. Anywhere. I love you so much.”
I moaned his name, unsure what excited me more; being full of his cock; being so gently filled after the vigorous fucking just a moment before; or the things he was saying, the realization that he meant every word.
“I’ll be so good to you. I’ll treat you the way you deserve to be treated,” he continued. Now he was fucking me in a more steady rhythm, no longer pausing each time he drew back. I could feel my body tensing inside, and I could tell when he started to go faster, it wouldn’t take me long. “Nothing but crêpes and orgasms, for the rest of your life.”
I laughed, but my laugh turned to a groan as he continued to fill me again and again.
“I love you, Ella. I love you.”
I wanted to respond, to tell him I loved him, too, but at that moment he pressed his mouth to mine and he began to thrust faster. He shifted, pushed his hands beneath my hips and hunched forward, pushing deeper inside me, squashing my clit in the process, making my pleasure spike.
“Ohhhh GOD, Danny! Baise-moi. Baise-moi.” I chanted. “Fuck me. Fuck me. Baise-moi.”
He groaned, watching my face, keeping his motions tight and controlled, fucking me steadily for a few long minutes. I could feel the tension winding tighter and tighter inside me, but I stayed just on this side of the peak. I needed something more to push me over.
“Tell me,” I said. “Tell me, Danny. About your cock inside my pussy. Tell me while you fuck me.”
His eyes went wide and thrilled. “My cock is deep inside you, Ella…deep, deep inside your pussy. Can you feel it? Can you feel me fucking you?”
“Ohh God, yes. Yes, Danny, yes! Yes!”
“Feel it,” he said in a rough voice. “Feel my cock inside you. Fucking you. Filling you up. Filling your body!” His excitement was obvious in his wild expression. “Feel it, feel it. Inside you! Dans ta chatte, ma chérie! Sentez-le! Feel it!”
“Ohh God. Yesss,” I hissed as he picked up the pace a little. “Fuck me! Just like that! I’m going to come!”
“Yes, my sweet, come! Come,” he gasped. “I want to feel it. I want to feel it on my cock!” His face was damp with sweat and his hair was sticking to his forehead. He stared down at me, thrusting hard, obviously getting closer to his own orgasm.
“That’s it, that’s it, Danny,” I moaned. “Ohh, Danny, yes, yes.”
He thrust and thrust, holding my hips from the bed’s surface, pushing deep inside me. I arched my back and moaned again as my pussy tightened, right on the brink.
“Ohhh,” he moaned. “I feel it. Je le sens! It’s so good!”
He thrust again, then once more, and I stiffened and cried out.
“Arrêtez! Arrêtez!”
He stopped, drew a deep breath and held it. He stared at me as I whimpered beneath him and then my pussy clenched and I gasped his name.
“Ohhhh,” he moaned in a deep exhale. His eyes went wide. “Ohh, my sweet, sweet girl. I can feel your orgasm…”
My pussy hurt, it clenched so hard, but the pleasure after was unreal. As was the sight before me of Danny, watching me come.
I could see his desire to thrust, but he waited until my pussy stopped throbbing and I was able to lower my hips to the bed’s surface again. As soon as I’d relaxed a little, he shifted, drawing his cock from my body. He pulled and pushed me into position until I was on my stomach, then he grasped my hips and brought me up on all fours. I barely had time to register his intention when he sank his cock deep inside me and groaned.
I could tell, once he started to move, that he wouldn’t last long. It made my head spin to think in a matter of minutes he’d be coming deep inside me.
Just as he did earlier, when he’d taken control of my blow job, he gave me quick orders, his voice full of emotion, not rough, but tense and needy.
“Put your head down, your shoulders too, love. Arch your back. Oh oui, oui, comme ça! Give me your pussy. Oui, c’est magnifique!! Just like that!”
Once in position, he began to fuck me hard and fast. With each forward thrust I had to brace against the bed to keep from losing my balance. Behind me, Danny grunted and groaned, alternately swearing in French and English. When he pushed too hard and I lost my balance, he fell on top of me. He straddled my hips, pushing my thighs together, and kept thrusting. I could feel how that tightened my sex, and heard him groan and push himself deep.
“Oh! Ella! C’est—c’est serré! So tight! Oh God, that will make me come!”
He reached forward and grasped my shoulders, using them as leverage to thrust into me. He was not pushing deep, but I knew it didn’t matter; his cock was being squeezed by my narrowed pussy, and judging by his exclamations, he wasn’t going to last another minute.
He began to thrust faster, his breathing getting faster, too, and then suddenly he shifted. He lowered his body to mine, one hand was braced on the bed, while his other pushed the tangled hair from my face. He brought his mouth to my ear. His breath was hot and fast, and his thrusts were shallow, but quick.
“Ella, Ella! Je suis…je suis…” His voice was rough, full of emotion, as he gasped and groaned, barely making sense, switching between English and French in his excitement. “Oh, my love. Your sweet pussy…ta chatte! I’m going to come!”
“Yes, Danny! YES!”
I found it deeply thrilling, how desperate he sounded. I twisted my head so my mouth touched his, so our breath and exclamations clashed.
“Oh God, ma chérie! Your sweet pussy!! Je suis…Je suis…je…je vais!”
“Ohh Danny! Yes, yes! Come!!”
“Je…je vais…ça vient! Je jouis! Ohhh, take it all,” he groaned, finally pushing himself deep inside me. He moaned, gasping, and I felt his cock jumping inside my aching hole.
He rocked his hips a few times, moaning and gasping as he did, and then he pressed a wet kiss to my cheek before he rolled off of me. I felt his cock leave my body and the warmth of his cum on my sweaty thighs.
He flopped beside me, breathless, his face blotchy and pink. He reached for me, but weakly like he had no strength left, and I shifted so he could slip his arm under my neck
“Ohhh,” he said in a shaky voice. “Ohh Ella, my love. Oh my sweet girl.”
I laid an arm across his heaving chest and watched him as he attempted to recover.
“I love you, so much. Je t’aime, je t’aime.”
I felt so content next to him, with the sticky warmth of his body pressed against mine, so familiar and intimate. I decided I’d never felt happier in my whole life. I kept rolling his words around in my head from earlier, stunned and delighted that he wanted to be with me, knowing in my heart he meant every word. I thought I knew what I wanted, too, but some small, prudent part of my brain not drugged with pleasure and contentment reminded me it wasn’t as simple as saying yes. There were things that needed to be sorted out first.
For a long time, we lay in silence. So long, I thought he’d fallen asleep, but when I lifted my head, he was wide awake, too. No doubt lost in his own thoughts about what could happen between us.
I propped myself up on my elbow so I could look at him better. He turned his head and gave me the sleepiest, most attractive smile, but didn’t speak. He just watched me while I traced a finger over his face, enjoying all the angles and curves, each tiny freckle and scar, committing every detail to memory for later.
I brought my mouth to his and kissed him as softly as I could. I closed my eyes and focused on the sensations, the softness and the heat, committing that to memory, too. When I drew back, his expression was a complex mix of emotion, probably a lot like the expression on my own face. I was pretty certain I’d never loved anyone as much as Danny before.
We spent the next two hours making love slowly—gentle caresses, long, luxurious kisses, and deep, slow penetration—gradually building in intensity, but never to a frenzy like it had in the kitchen. I wouldn’t have thought I could still get turned on to the point of breathlessness after all the pleasure I’d felt already, but he took me there again, with agonizing slowness until I reached my third climax of the night. And then I sucked him to his peak, savoring his taste and committing to memory all his curses and praises as he emptied himself between my lips. For later.
It was just after 7:00 A.M. when we showered and dressed and left the apartment. Initially, we thought we’d have brunch out somewhere, but it was still too early, so we found an open market instead, and picked up four bags of groceries. Back at the apartment, Danny cooked for me again and we ate together curled up on the couch. It was homey and sweet, and I felt myself sinking into daydreams of life together in Paris.
Neither of us talked about the offer he’d made earlier, or the time slipping away, instead we cleaned up the kitchen together, shed our clothes once more, and returned to the bedroom.
We stayed there for the rest of the morning. We made love and we fucked. At times it was sweet and slow, and other times, demanding and forceful. But through it all, we touched—always a hand on the other’s body, and always holding eye contact as if we couldn’t bear to look away from each others’ faces. We were connected physically and emotionally, and I knew once he left, and even when he was an ocean away, that connection would remain.
As it got closer to noon, a melancholy mood took us both, our lovemaking grew slower, sweeter, and no longer focused on reaching a climax; it became all about the pleasure of being together. My body was sore inside, and in all the places he’d gripped me tightly. I felt a tiredness deep down from so much unfamiliar exertion, the intense emotions I’d been feeling all night, and from having been awake for over 30 hours. Looking into Danny’s face, I saw he was fatigued as well. Still handsome, but clearly worn out.
When I remarked on how tired I felt and how tired he looked, he slid from the bed and returned with his cellphone. He lay back on the bed and I watched him thumb his way to his camera app.
“What are you doing?”
“Is this…?”
He held the phone at arm’s length, but it only showed the ceiling.
“You have to switch the camera,” I said, reaching up to tap the icon. A moment later, and we treated to the image of our disheveled faces and sweaty, naked bodies on the screen.
“I’ve never actually taken a selfie before.”
“Seriously? You’re going to start now? When we look like this?”
“We look hot as hell,” he said seriously. He panned the camera down our bodies and back up to our faces. “Look at us.”
I laughed and he took a photo. It was terrible. So he took another, and another, and in each one we looked sweaty and tired, but happy. So happy. We scrolled through the dozen pictures, laughing hard.
“One more,” he said, holding the camera out. “This one will be perfect. Just smile with that gorgeous mouth of yours, chérie.”
I had my doubts it would look any better than the others, but I smiled, watching his face in the phone’s screen. He was watching me, too, and the result was, as he’d predicted, perfect. We were still sweaty, my hair was still tangled, his eyes still had dark circles, but our smiles were so genuine, so clearly the smiles of two people in love, it couldn’t have captured the moment better.
“Send me that one,” I said.
I watched while he sent the picture by text, and heard my phone chime from the hallway. I knew I would spend a lot of time looking at that photo in the next few days, and with that thought, my sadness returned. I sighed, thinking how hard it was going to be to go back to my life once he left.
He sighed, too, and rolled toward me to kiss my cheek. Wordlessly, he left the bed for the bathroom and I heard the shower turn on. I didn’t bother to look at the clock; I knew it was time for him to go.
I lay silently, tears welling up. I hadn’t cried in a long time, maybe a whole year, even though I regularly felt the urge, but I’d learned how to push my feelings down deep. This time, I let it happen, and for the few minutes Danny was cleaning up, I sobbed into the rumpled sheets of my bed.
He found me that way and slid onto the bed behind me, wrapping his arms around me. He buried his face in the hair at my neck, and a moment later, I felt the soft shake of his body as he, too, wept.
We lay together like that for a few minutes until we’d both stopped crying and then I twisted in his arms until I could face him. I kissed his cheek and then his mouth, and for a few more minutes we kissed, eventually parting with great reluctance.
I wrapped a bathrobe around myself and watched from the bed while he dressed. I felt so many things, primarily sad he was leaving, but there was hope there, too. I knew everything in my life was about to change for the better.
He took forever to get dressed. He seemed to be moving in slow motion, delaying the inevitable. In the end, he left his tie off, stuffed into the pocket of his jacket, but even sleep-deprived and wearing yesterday’s clothes, he looked elegant and sexy. His face, however, was troubled and dark. I thought at first he was just feeling the same sadness I was that this lovely encounter had to end, but when he finally looked up at me, I realized he was much more upset than that. I stood and moved toward him, concerned.
“This feels so surreal,” he said. “I can’t believe I’m leaving you. Willingly leaving you. What’s wrong with me, Ella? I mean, I have to go. I have to see my family. I have to be at work in ten days, I can’t not go. But, I can’t believe I’m doing this to myself again. I really am an idiot. Truly.”
His face was serious, his eyebrows drawn down tight, and he fixed me with an intense look that made my heart stop. He was clearly struggling. I started to say something, but he closed his eyes and shook his head.
“I love you, Eleanor. I hope I’ve made that clear. And if you need anything through this process of leaving him—anything at all—call me. Day or night. I don’t care. I’ll always be available to you if you need to talk. I’ll fly you to Paris if you just want a hug. I’ll drop everything and come to you, if that’s what you want, if that’s what you need. If it’s three in the morning and you want crêpes, I will come and make them for you, sweetness. I love you so much.”
He opened his eyes and I was surprised by how wet they were. He brought his hands up to my face and I thought for a second I could feel them shaking. He kissed me softly and turned, heading down the hall to the door.
I followed, trying to think what to say, but no words sounded right. But the depth of his sadness was scaring me. I hated for him to leave feeling like that.
I watched him slip his overcoat on and button it slowly, his eyes down. He put his scarf on with the same care, still not looking at me.
“Danny..?” I moved close to him and he looked up, his eyes bright with suppressed tears.
“I can’t just go,” he said. He reached for my face again and this time I was certain he was shaking. “Ella, I need to tell you. I need you to know. I want to be with you. I want it more than anything, and I’ll do anything you ask me to do, anything you want. I just want…this. I want this.” For just a second his hands tightened on my face. He brought his mouth to mine and just kissed me softly before drawing back. “I want you. Us. I’m ready. Just say the word, and I’m yours. I’m ready. I love you.”
“I love you, too,” I breathed. I couldn’t remember if I’d said it before, or only thought it in my head. I realized, he wasn’t sure. He wasn’t entirely sure how I felt. So I said it again.
“I love you. I love you so, so much, Danny.”
His face changed slightly, but he didn’t smile the way I thought he would. If anything, his expression became more intense.
“I’ve thrown away every chance I’ve had at real happiness, Ella. So many times, it’s a joke. I’m a joke. I’ve just thrown love away out of fear of being hurt again, but I’m ready. Je suis prêt, ma chérie. I am yours, and I am ready.” He smiled then, but he didn’t look happy, just desperate. “Please, please, please, Ella. Please, don’t let me fuck this up.” His voice broke on the last word and he swallowed hard.
“Danny…” His eyes were so full of sadness it nearly broke my heart.
“Help me do this right. Let me show you how much I love you, Eleanor. I have to go, but I want this to not end. I want to spend my life with you. I love you, sweetheart. Marry me.”
I shouldn’t have been surprised, but I was. Stunned, and surprised by the raw and vulnerable state of him. The offer of marriage itself wasn’t a surprise, but it still took my breath away. I stood speechless, staring at his expression of uncertainty, my heart like a hammer inside me. I saw his brow shift, saw the doubt there, saw his world about to crumble in the too-long time it took me to respond, and found my voice.
“Yes,” I said. “Yes, Danny. Yes! I love you.” Why had it taken me so long to say it? Why hadn’t I been saying it all along? “Oh God, I love you so much. I love you, and yes. YES, I’ll marry you.”
His face split in a grin and two fat tears slid down his cheeks. The next second he was kissing me and pulling me close. When he drew back, we both laughed breathlessly. My heart was in my throat. He wiped his eyes with the heels of his hands, took my face once more and kissed me softly, once, twice, then once more, leaving butterflies of arousal inside me.
If time had allowed, I’ve no doubt we would have fallen back onto that bed in each other’s arms. But, it was already well past twelve. This time, he really had to go.
As we drew apart, I asked, “What’s Christmas like in Paris?”
He smiled, and this time it was a genuine, untroubled smile. It stretched across his face and lit up his tired eyes. “Oh God, Ella,” he said, sighing. “It’s magical. I can’t wait to show you.”
He found his coat and shoes by the door, and once he was bundled up and ready to leave, he pulled me close. He kissed my head, pulled back enough to kiss my mouth, then let his arms drop. I think we must have said something, some kind of goodbye, but all I remember is the smile on his face as the door finally closed, and the sensation as reality settled in. I’d said yes. He’d asked, and I’d said yes.
I locked the door, dropped my bathrobe on the bed, and stepped into the shower. First, I’d find something for lunch, then I’d take a long nap, and then I’d get to work on my divorce.
For the first time in ages, I realized I couldn’t wait for Steven to come home.