New York, Summer, 1921 . Your new neighbor across the lake is the mysterious bachelor , Dutch. His reputation for excess and extravagant parties precede him in the prohibition era. But after an invitation to one of his soirees, you discover your...
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Tom broke the kiss and pulled away from you. You suddenly felt exposed without his warm embrace. A breeze from the window skipped across your skin that wasn't covered by your undergarments. It's chill, although most welcome on such a horribly hot day, still caused you to shiver. Perhaps it was more from the uneasiness about his demeanor.
He took you to his bed like you asked. You stripped each other slowly and tenderly of each individual piece of clothing. Your mouths explored each and every exposed inch. Then you whispered something about loving him like no other and his mood changed.
"Tom?"
Tom swung his legs over the side of the bed. He hung his head and gripped the edge of the bed into fists.
"What's the matter?" you asked. You ran a palm down his bare, muscular back. His skin was scorching to the touch. You thought how exhilarating it would be to have that heat on top of you, inside of you. You reached for him, placing a hand on his broad shoulder. He shrugged you off dismissively
"You were with him before you arrived here, weren't you?" Tom asked quietly.
Your skin immediately flushed with shame. You hoped he wouldn't have noticed, but you knew better. Always more clever than credit given. But this knowledge stoked his jealousy and that was something fairly foreign to you...at least when it came to Tom.
You moved closer to him and wrapped your arm around his waist. He took a deep and shuddering breath. You didn't answer him. You didn't have to. The way he stared at you on the lawn...his eyes said it all then.
"I swear I can smell him on you," he said in a strained voice. You sighed and leaned your forehead between is shoulder blades.
"Tom..."
"Did he make you?" he asked louder. You lifted your head. He turned to look at you, needing to see the truth in your eyes. His gaze rendered you powerless. The distrust and betrayal that lingered there was far too great to combat. You spoke your truth.
"No, he didn't make me," with a slow shake of your head, "He never has."
Tom abruptly stood. He ran a hand through his hair. It was an agitated move. He started pacing in his only his underwear, hands on hips, a frown across his brow.
He was angry. He was hurt. But all you could do was watch his naked form flex and stretch with each step, each breath he drew in. Tom was never one for rage, but passion was eternally present in him. Whether he was talking about his favorite book or showing you how to tie knots or professing his undying love for you, it was a captivating display. Now it poured out of him in a fury. His eyes were wide with anguish.
"I can't stand the thought, Violet!" he shouted, "I just want to rip it out of my head! My heart!" He slapped his chest for emphasis.
Your eyes drifted there. You wanted to cover it in kisses.
"It's maddening for me!" He continued. His face turned to loathing.
Still you remained silent, allowing his tirade to continue. You weren't entirely sure what to say. You understood his torment, but he didn't understand your purpose.
"To think of him with his...You're mine, Violet. That's never changed." His voice caught a bit and turned away from you, planting his face in his hands.
"He's onto you, Tom," you said finally.
He lifted his head from his hands. His eyes were red and shiny.
"What do you mean?" he asked remarkably calm. His brow furrowed in the center and he sat back down on the bed.
"He says there's something off about you. He's suspicious of your fortune, your name. He has been looking into you."
You grabbed his arm and leaned in closer. You could smell the passion seeping out of his pores. It was extremely enticing to you. A throb of lust started to simmer in your loins.
"Tom, he won't stop either. He's has connections all over the world. He's awfully good at this sort of thing. If he finds out about you, he finds out about us."
You brushed your fingers along his brow and slipped them through his hair.
"Don't you see? He can't suspect anything. He has to think I'm his...for now."
Tom's eyes searched yours with worry and apprehension. He didn't want those monstrous hands on you. Neither did you, but you did what you thought was necessary. Biding your time. Surviving.
"Promise me you won't...," Tom began but he struggled to finish. He hung his head again with a sorrowful sigh. He couldn't even bring himself to say it.
You lifted his chin and brought his lips to yours. His misery started to drift away with each taste of your tongue. Your hand moved to his growing bulge, gripping him enough to elicit a moan from his lips. A sense of relief passed through you. You were back where you started.
Tom pushed you back onto the bed. His lips traveled down your neck, nipping bits of flesh along the way. You rid each other of what was left of your clothing. The chill was gone and your love flared like a furnace.
He entered you with longing and devotion. His eyes remained on yours, watching all the changes your face made with each slow stroke inside of you. His fingers brushed your cheek, traced your lips. They massaged your nipples with teasing pinches. Each and every touch he gave was meant to impress upon you: only he could make you feel this way. Only he could turn you inside out and upside down and over the moon.
Your breathing became more rapid, as did his. You moaned against his lips, urging him on.
"My Violet," he whispered with halted breath. He gasped when you grabbed his bum and pushed him in deeper. Your body was on the verge of exploding. You just needed more of him, deeper and harder. How could he ever think anyone else could even compare to him? He was simply magnificent.
"Mmm, Tom..." you moaned as his fingers started rubbing your sweet spot. He watched you intensely, a slight smile crept across his lips as he thrust his hardest inside you. You arched your back with a cry, coming completely undone. He bent down to devour your quivering mouth as he released himself with a series of gasps and I love yous.
"I love you too," you said after gathering your wits again. Tom rested his head on your chest and played with your hand, holding it, intertwining his fingers with yours, thumbing your palm.
