Page 38 of Endless Love

“Yes, it’s short for Belinda. That’s what my dad called her.”

“How did they meet?”

“Here. At the hotel. He worked as a busboy in the dining room during summers while he saved up to open his own restaurant.”

“Why isn’t he here today?” I asked.

Willow inhaled a deep breath. “It’s complicated. My grandmother wants nothing to do with my father. She feels he destroyed my mother’s life.”

“What do you mean?”

“My mom was only nineteen at the time. To my grandma’s horror, she dropped out of Vassar and eloped with him. Shortly after moving to the city, she got pregnant and I was born.”

In my head, I did some math. So, if her mother died ten years ago when Willow was fifteen, that meant her mother was only thirty-five at the time. About the same age I was. That seemed so young, yet oddly, I sometimes felt so old. I listened intently as Willow continued.

“My father’s not the kind of man she fathomed for my mother. She envisioned a rich lawyer or doctor. Not some poor busboy from the Lower Eastside.”

“But your father turned out to be successful.”

“Not successful enough for her. And then when she was fatally hit by a taxi, she blamed my father.”

“I’m sorry,” I said, not knowing what else to say.

“Don’t be. It is what it is. I’ve managed to navigate the line of love and hate.”

I had too. We had something in common.

Silently, Willow traced the heart with a fingertip. I followed suit, the deep outline of the heart almost scraping my forefinger. It must have been made with a Swiss Army knife, like the one Marcus had once given me as a birthday present as a kid. I still always carried it in my pocket.

I studied the massive tree, taking in the depth and breath of it. From a huge jutting branch hung a swing. The old-fashioned homemade kind composed of two strands of thick rope and a plank of wood. Willow caught my eyes on it.

“Yeah. It’s been here forever. It dates back to the forties. My grandpa installed it. I spent a lot of my childhood on it. Want to go for a ride?”

A few moments later, we were on the swing. Our entwined fingers gripping the ropes. Willow straddled on my lap facing me. Anchored on my cock. Pumping rhythmically with her long, supple legs. As forcefully as mine. Her face, her breath, her smile in mine. Her flaming red hair blowing in the warm wind with each pump. And with each pump, my cock growing harder. Her body arching back. Her eyes looking up to the sky. My head tilting to follow her gaze. The tree’s leafy green boughs shrouding us like curtains. My cock thickening with each pump. Each pump more powerful. To make us go higher. Higher and higher. Shooting into the sky.

I was getting a high in more ways than one. So turned on, I wanted to stop the swing, zip down my fly, and make love to her. Hold her in my arms. Let her ride me. Give the birds and bees a show.

“Look at me,” I shouted out to her on the next exhilarating pump. As my long legs straightened taking us sky-high, her radiant face met mine, her green eyes holding me fiercely, an inviting, wicked smile on her face. She was beautiful. A temptation. As the wind captured her hair, I leaned in to her and captured her lips. It wasn’t premeditated; just pure savage need. Something I couldn’t help.

Without slowing down the momentum of the swing, our lips stayed locked. I nibbled and gnawed on them, then consumed her mouth. My tongue darted inside and tangled with hers. Just like the dancer she was, her tongue whirled gracefully and purposefully with mine. Blood rushed to my cock. She tasted delicious. So sweet. So good. As I deepened the kiss, her moans mingled with the sounds of nature. The chirps. The breeze. The rustling leaves. Without losing contact with her mouth, I stopped pumping my legs and the swing slowed down. As it came to a near halt, I touched down my feet to the ground and jumped off with Willow’s legs wrapped around my hips and her hands cupping my face, still devouring my mouth. We couldn’t get enough of each other.

Briefly, she broke away, her breathing frantic. “Fuck me, Ryan. Please fuck me.”

Jesus. As much as I wanted her, she wanted me more. She was begging me. My desperate cock was throbbing. It was time to give her what she wanted. What I wanted. She lowered her feet to the ground and returned her mouth to mine as we began to feverishly disrobe each other. It was broad daylight madness, each of us fumbling to get the other undressed, a clash of wild hands and hungry kisses wherever possible. In no time, we were bared to each other, my arms wrapped around her taut dancer’s body, my cock hard against her flat belly. Together, we fell to our knees, the soft, warm grass our bed. Willow’s tender breasts brushed against my chest, calling out for my touch. As she tugged at my hair, my hands cupped them. Not too big, not too small, they filled my palms perfectly. As I massaged them, I could feel her pert nipples harden into little pebbles. More moans escaped her throat, these much louder.

“Baby,” I whispered against her swan-like neck. “Are you on birth control?”

“Yes,” she managed, planting kisses all over me.

“I don’t have a condom…” My voice trailed off.

“It’s okay.”

“I’m clean. I haven’t been with anyone since—”

She cut me off before I could say Allee’s name. “I believe you. Please fuck me, Ryan. I want you so badly.”

I felt the same way. I wanted this fiery redhead beauty, who could whip a man up a sandwich and probably dance circles around him, in the worst way. On my next heated breath, I clasped her shoulders and lowered her to the grass. She circled her legs around me as I stretched out, anchoring myself with my hands on either side of her. My face hovered over hers…hers so impassioned.