The Movers Carried Out My Marriage and Stayed for a Beer novel · Chapter 2 of 24

Chapter 2: The Island

One mover leaves; she picks the other, and in the empty townhouse he lifts her onto the island and takes her slowly, then upstairs on a bare mattress.

Tavon took one beer, twisted off the cap, and looked from me to Darius and back.

Darius was holding the other bottle in his big hand, and he had not taken a sip.

"Well," Tavon said. He drank half of his in one go and set it on the island. "I got a long drive and a phone that says it's late. Y'all have a good one. I'll Uber."

"Tavon," Darius said.

"Nope." Tavon pointed the bottle at him. "I'm a grown man with a ride-share app."

He winked at me once, picked up his clipboard, and went out the front door.

I heard it close, and then the townhouse was very quiet.

Darius stood by the island with his cap crushed in one fist.

"Miss Amber," he said. "I don't want you to think I..."

"One beer," I said.

He stopped.

"One beer, one afternoon," I said. "No last names, no phone numbers. You're the mover and I'm the client. That's all it is."

I had never made a rule faster in my life.

"Yes, ma'am," he said.

"Don't call me ma'am."

"Yes, Miss Amber."

I laughed, and the laugh shook, and I put my bottle down before I dropped it.

"Come here," I said.

He came around the island in two steps.

Up close I had to tilt my head all the way back to see his face.

He had a small gold stud in one ear, and a gap between his front teeth, and he was looking at my mouth.

"I'm going to kiss you," I said. "If you don't want that, say so now."

"I've wanted that since you came out in the yard this morning," he said. "I wasn't gonna say."

I took his shirt in both fists and pulled.

He bent down to me with his hands held out wide, afraid to put them anywhere, and he kissed me.

It was soft at first.

Then I opened my mouth against his, and he made a sound in his chest, and everything about it changed.

His hand came up and covered the whole side of my head, his fingers in my hair.

The other one flattened on the small of my back and pulled me up against him.

I felt all of him.

He was hard through his work pants already, and it pressed against my stomach, thick and long and hot.

"God," I said into his mouth.

"Sorry," he said. "I can't..."

"Don't apologize for that."

I reached down between us and put my hand over him, and I felt him jump.

He was bigger than my hand. He was bigger than anything I had ever held.

"Lift me," I said.

His hands went to my waist.

He raised me off the floor, and I wrapped my legs around his hips.

He turned and set me on the edge of the island.

The marble was cold through my jeans.

I sat there with my knees open on either side of him.

My face was level with his, and I could not stop looking at him.

"Shirt," I said.

He pulled his off over his head.

His chest was broad and smooth and dark, and his stomach was thick with muscle that did not show off.

I ran my palms up his ribs, and he shut his eyes.

"Your turn," he said.

I raised my arms and he took my T-shirt off slowly.

My bra went next. His hands were so big they covered both my breasts at once, and he kept them still, just holding me.

"Is this okay?" he said.

"It's good. Do something."

His thumbs moved over my nipples, slow, and my head fell back.

He bent and took one in his mouth, and I put my hand on the back of his head and held him there.

He sucked, and I felt it pull low and tight between my legs.

"Jeans," I said. "Now, Darius."

He undid my button and my zipper.

I lifted my hips and he drew my jeans and my underwear down my legs together and dropped them on a box marked KITCHEN.

I sat naked on the island.

I was thirty-nine, with a stomach that had never been flat and thighs I had hidden for ten years.

He looked at me and did not look away.

"Look at you," he said.

His voice was rough now.

"You're so small. You're so pretty."

He went down on his knees on the beige carpet.

I thought he would have to bend, but my hips were on the edge of the counter and he knelt level with me.

His shoulders went under my thighs and he lifted my legs over them.

"Tell me what you like," he said.

"I don't know. It's been a long time since anyone asked."

"Then I'll find out."

He put his mouth on me.

He started with the flat of his tongue, one slow stroke from the bottom to the top.

I said a word I do not say in front of people.

He did it again, slower.

Then his lips closed around my clit and he sucked, gently, and his tongue went in small circles that got faster whenever my hips jumped.

I gripped the edge of the island with both hands.

"There," I said. "Right there. Don't stop."

He didn't.

He found a rhythm and he kept it.

One huge hand spread across my belly and held me down when I tried to climb off the counter.

His other hand slid up the inside of my thigh and one thick finger pushed into me.

I cried out.

He added a second, and it stretched me, and he curled them forward while his tongue worked, and I had no choice but to come.

It went through me in long waves, my thighs clamping on his head, my heels drumming on his back.

He kept his mouth on me until I pushed at his shoulder.

He rose to his feet with his chin wet and his eyes dark and watched me pant.

"Again," I said.

He grinned, and the gap in his teeth showed.

"Yes, Miss Amber."

I reached for his belt.

I got it open and his zipper down, and I pushed his work pants and boxers over his hips.

He sprang free, and I stared.

He was heavy and dark, and long, and so thick that my fingers did not close around the base when I tried.

"Darius."

"I know," he said. "I'll go slow."

"If you're slow, I'll kill you."

He laughed, one big surprised laugh from deep in his chest, and then covered his mouth with his hand, embarrassed.

I pulled his hand away.

"Don't hide that," I said. "I like that."

I put the head of him against me.

I was soaked, and still it took time.

He pushed in a little, and stopped, and pushed a little more, and I felt every inch of the stretch.

My nails dug into his arms.

"Too much?" he said, and his jaw was tight with holding himself back.

"Don't you dare stop."

He pushed again and slid in.

I felt him fill me so completely that I could not tell where my body ended and his began.

I made a sound I had never made.

He went still, seated all the way, his forehead pressed to mine.

"You feel unreal," he said. "You take me so good, baby. Look at you. You take every inch."

Nobody had ever called me baby and meant it.

He lifted my hips with both hands, those hands that went around my whole waist.

He pulled out almost all the way and slid back in, slow.

It hit every part of me I had forgotten I had.

"Harder," I said.

"Not yet."

He kept the pace slow and deep, over and over.

I was shaking, my feet hooked behind him, begging him by name.

"Please. Please, Darius."

"Say it again," he said.

"Please fuck me."

He gave me a low groan and moved harder.

The island knocked against the wall, and the beer bottle rolled off and broke on the floor, and neither of us looked.

I came a second time with my face in his neck, tight around him.

He held me while it shook through me and said my name against my hair.

"Not done," he said.

He slid out of me, and I whimpered at the loss.

Then he picked me up, all of me, one arm under my thighs and one at my back.

I wrapped myself around him and he carried me up the narrow stairs.

The bare mattress was on the floor of the big bedroom, the one he had hauled up himself that afternoon.

He laid me down on it gently.

He came down over me, and he was so big that he blocked the ceiling.

He held his weight on his forearms on either side of my head.

My legs opened for him, and I felt the whole long heat of him settle against me.

I had never felt so covered in my life.

"Look at me," he said.

I looked.

He pushed into me again, slow, all of it, and my back came off the mattress.

"There you go," he said. "You're doing so good. You take me so good."

He moved, and I felt it everywhere, the slide, the weight, his stomach against mine and his chest moving over my breasts.

I wrapped my legs around his hips and my arms around his neck.

"Inside me," I said. "Come inside me."

He groaned, and his rhythm stuttered.

"You sure?"

"I'm on the pill. I want you to. I want to feel it."

"Amber," he said, the first time he had said it. "Oh, I want to."

"Do it."

He drove deeper, and I raised my hips to meet him, and I came again, hard, a third time, crying out against his shoulder.

He followed.

He went rigid and pressed his face into my neck and groaned, long and low.

I felt the heat of him spill into me, pulse after pulse.

He did not pull away.

He stayed inside, heavy and warm and shaking, and I held his head to my shoulder until we were both quiet.

There was no timer going off.

There was nothing I had to remember to do.

After a long while he rolled us onto our sides, and he stayed in me, and his palm moved up and down my back.

The sun had gone and the room was dark.

"What do I call you now?" he said into my hair.

"Amber."

"I'm Darius."

"I know," I said. "It's on your shirt."

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