Page 63 of Pretty Please Me
I always knew women were magical creatures, but I may have just discovered the most powerful one. Our bodies move together in rhythm, and when she’s screaming my name in a pitch only dogs can hear her, I let myself fall apart. And I swear I see God. And just as I’ve always suspected.
God is a woman.
TWENTY-FOUR
Maggie
I wake as the bright morning sun peeks through the sheer curtains. I blink my eyes open, realizing I’m not in the guest bed I’ve grown familiar with but in Sam’s instead, tangled up in his loose sheets. I look to my left to see his side of the bed is empty, and I don’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed.
I glance around the tidy space, drinking in all the small details scattered throughout the room, and notice the pillows on his side propped up and fluffed perfectly as if he attempted to make his side of the bed while I slept.
It’s such a Sam thing to do. I’m learning he isn’t just controlling in the bedroom. He has an order about things, not in a neurotic way, but more like he prides himself on doing everything the right way. He doesn’t cut corners, and there isn’t a lazy bone in his body.
He’s not like anyone I’ve ever met. I’m learning he’s a breed all his own.
I sit up and stretch, and every muscle in my body aches as memories of last night come flooding back. I’m mortified when I remember him saying the safe word because I was too stupid to ask him before attempting to go rogue with my lessons. I drag my hands down my face as I try to remember if I said anything stupid or embarrassed myself beyond repair. Did I come on too strong? Did he feel obligated toserviceme, or did he enjoy it?
A vivid image of Sam’s chiseled tattooed body driving into me as he pressed me against the cold shower tiles flashes through my memory, and I pull the sheet up to cover my face. I can’t believe I let myself be so free with him. I didn’t even know I was capable of feeling so passionate. I was drunk with desire and hardly recognizable.
My mind flashes with images of our bodies colliding, how he dominated me in every way, and how I enjoyed it. The way he forced me to watch our reflection and how it awakened something I didn’t know existed.
Last night after round two in the shower, Sam insisted on washing me again. Then he carried me to bed, brushed my wet hair, and dressed me in one of his worn, cotton t-shirts. He held me against his chest, hands playing with my hair until I drifted asleep.
I feel so safe when I’m with him. Like I could be or do anything I want. He pushes me to be a better version of myself, and I trust him to be there to catch me if I fall. Maybe it’s just the dominant thing, but it feels nice to be cared for, cherished even.
I’m afraid Sam may have unlocked something deep inside me that can never be undone, which terrifies me.
My head drops back to the headboard with a thud, and I let out a frustrated sigh. I’m way over my head, but all I can do now is stay above water. I force myself to get up and make the bed so that my side matches Sam’s, then I pull on a pair of his boxers and make my way into the kitchen.
I find him sitting at the kitchen island reading the morning paper. He’s dressed impeccably in a suit and tie, with his hair styled neatly. He looks so clean-cut and professional. You’d never guess the dirty things he was capable of.
“Good morning, gorgeous. How are you feeling?” Sam croons as he pushes away from the island and kisses me on the cheek.
“It’s not the worst hangover I’ve ever had but don’t ask me to run a marathon or anything.” I laugh as I grab a coffee cup from the cabinet.
He takes the coffee cup from my hand and gestures for me to take a seat. “I didn’t know how long you’d need to sleep, and I didn’t want to wake you. Otherwise, I’d have brought you your breakfast in bed.” He pours me a cup of coffee, adding the perfect amount of milk and sugar, then places it in front of me next to a glass of water and two Advil.
He raps his knuckles in front of the glass of water. “Drink this first. Then you can have your coffee.” He turns back toward the kitchen, pulling out ingredients from the fridge. “How about an omelet and toast?”
“That sounds perfect. Thank you.” I down my glass of water and Advil and take a small sip of my coffee, savoring the first delicious drops. Knowing someone’s coffee order without being told is such a small thing, but it’s another reason I feel so safe with him. It’s like he actually sees me; he’s always paying attention.
Sam cracks a few eggs in a bowl, then chops up some fresh veggies and meat, whisking them together before adding the mix to the pan. I watch as he moves confidently around the space, each movement deliberate and practiced. Is there anything this man isn’t good at?
“I hope you don’t mind, but I took the liberty of handling what we didn’t finish last night.” He glances over his shoulder and nods toward my phone sitting near the bowl of fruit in the center of the kitchen island.
How could I forget? The whole reason we got socaught upwas that I asked him to help me get closer toTrent.
I reach for the phone and swipe the messages open to see a sexy selfie of a nice pair of breasts, wearing a thin black lace bra with an oversized green sweater hanging off her shoulders. There’s even long red hair draped over her shoulder in a thick braid.
My eyebrows pull together as I read:
Sorry about last night. My neighbor stopped by and needed help with something unexpected, and by the time we were finished, it was too late. Enjoy the pic. You earned it. ??
Trent
Holy shit. I’d say the pic was worth it. I had fun last night. Maybe we can do it again sometime soon?
I’d like that, but I’ll be traveling next week and completely out of pocket. I’ll see you at the reunion, though. Save me a dance?
