Ok.  So I know, I know.  Now that I have a CF blog I should no longer post here. BUT.  But I wrote this vignette a while ago and I'd like to post it today, on Valentine's.  It is, of course, out of order, but not too far off from where I left you with Maggie & Grey if anyon'es all caught up (Danielle?  Maybe?).  But whatevs.  I just wanna, so I'm gunna.  I reserve that right, right? Right.

So Happy Valentine's!

***************

Velvet was happy Grey and Maggie had decided to join them at the main house for the annual Valentine’s Day breakfast.  She would have understood had they decided to keep to themselves in the guest house.  She smiled as she reached for the blackberry preserve.

It was a peculiar holiday to make into a family holiday, she supposed, but it had everything to do with Grey so it seemed fitting that he’d decided to come and had brought his beautiful bride.

Velvet spread a thin layer of preserve across her already buttered toast and sighed contentedly, thinking of her first Valentine’s Day with Jonah.  She’d been a new mother, a divorcee, and pretty newly engaged to boot.  They were still living in the townhouse with the yellow door in the old factory district, still living with Nolan. 

She’d overheard a conversation between the brothers late the night before, while Jonah was up feeding Grey; and Nolan, just getting home from work at the bar, was unwinding and keeping his brother company. It was a comfortable routine.  Velvet lay in bed and listened to their conversation in the common area.  ‘I can take care of a baby for a night, Jones, really, it isn’t a big deal.’ Nolan was insisting.  ‘This is your first Valentine’s’ he’d lectured, trying to convince Jonah to take her out for a proper date.

Grey’d wailed then, for a few moments, and the conversation waited until he’d settled in once again and was suckling on his bottle contentedly.

“He doesn’t look sleepy at all.”  Commented Nolan adoringly.

“He’s a night owl.”  Jonah agreed indulgently.

Velvet loved what softies those two men were for babies.  Maybe because their parents had had their younger brother so late in life.  They were both great with Grey.  She was always grateful for the way Nolan not only adjusted to living with a young couple who were raising a new baby, but actually seemed to enjoy it.  Uncle Nolan was very much a part of their little family. “Maybe he’ll grow up to be a bartender like his Uncle.”  He posited and she heard Jonah chuckle low.

“Thanks, Nole, really, but I think I want to do a family style Valentine’s.”  He said after a few moments of what sounded like Nolan playing some version of peek-a-boo with the baby.

“You sure?”  Nolan sounded skeptical.

“Yeah.”  Jonah’d replied, yawning.  “Breakfast in bed, maybe an indoor picnic, cuddling on the couch and just, whatever she needs.”  He said.  “Besides, you don’t want to miss the bank you’ll make tending bar on Valentine’s.”

Velvet heard Nolan grunt.  “Tell the truth I was kinda looking forward to avoiding all those sad, lonely, desperate girls.”  She heard the water in the kitchen sink and knew he was rinsing his plate and silverware from the microwaved leftovers they’d saved him from their dinner.

“Have breakfast with us, then, in the morning.” Offered Jonah, and Velvet could hear the honest enthusiasm in his voice. 

“Oh, I dunno—“

“Yeah, please? Get up and have breakfast with us as a family.  I’ll make whatever you want.”

“Jones, C’mon, spend it with your family.”  Nolan said gently.

“You’re part of my family.” Jonah insisted.  “Huh, Grey? Don’t you think Uncle Nolan should be present at the first annual Delaney Family Valentine’s Day Breakfast?” Said Jonah, cooing at the months-old baby he was feeding.

Nolan laughed.  “Don’t use the kid as leverage, you asshole.”

“Hey, delicate ears over here.” Jonah said, chuckling.  “Grey thinks you should be there.  And I agree.”

They were quiet for a moment before Nolan said very quietly: “And your fiancée?”

Velvet flushed in the way one does when eavesdropping and the talk turns to oneself.  She tried to make herself even more still than she already was and strained to hear the much-lowered voices.

“She loves you Nolan.” Jonah was saying.  “No, she does—she thinks you’re great and she loves how you are with Grey, Nole, she’d want you there.”

“It’s Valentine’s Day—“

“Yeah, and the last one she had was with that son of a bitch—“

“Hey, impressionable ears!”  Nolan interrupted, teasing.

“ --And I don’t ever want this holiday to remind her of him in the least.  I’m not doing the usual stuff with her on this day.  Not ever.”

“I dunno if you have any control over how she feels or doesn’t feel about the man, my friend.”

“Knock it off.”

“Jonah, just—“

“Just what?  How many times are you going to say it Nolan?  I don’t want to talk about it.”

“I just want you to be careful.” Nolan said with a heavy sigh.  “People can’t just be expected to fall out of love with no strings attached, no confused feelings—“

In the dark of the bedroom she shared with Jonah, Velvet’s mouth fell open at Nolan’s veiled accusation.  And then she washed over cold because of how frighteningly close to the mark he’d come.

 “Nolan, she likes you, why can’t you give her a chance?”

“She’s great!”  Nolan insisted defensively.  “This isn’t about that, this is about you and how I don’t want to see you hurt.”

“I love her.” Jonah responded simply.  “She’s going to be my wife.”  He added as Nolan stayed quiet.  “We have a son.”

“He’s pretty great.” Nolan acknowledged, and Velvet could hear the smile in his voice.

Velvet heard the decisive pop of the bottle leaving Grey’s mouth and a contented gurgling.

“All done?” Jonah asked the boy incredulously.  “Think I should give him more?”

After a few moments she heard the refrigerator open.

“Bad luck, Brother.” Nolan said.  “You’ll have to bring him to the source, because you’re out of pumped stuff.”

“Dammit.”  Jonah said in a sing-song sort of voice, clearly entertaining the baby.  “Check the freezer?” She heard a raspberry sound that made the baby chuckle and burble appreciatively.

The Fridge door closed as the freezer door pulled open.

“Yeah.  It’ll take a while to thaw though, even doing the warm water.”  She heard Nolan yawn as he pulled a heavy glass mixing bowl across the surface of the counter and turn on the faucet again.

“Go ahead to bed Nole, I got it.”

“It’s not a problem—“ Another yawn.

Jonah groaned a little as she heard him getting up off the couch with the baby. “Goodnight.” He said, more firmly. “You need a good night’s sleep if you’re gunna get up and have family breakfast with us.”

“Jonesie—“

“Say g’night to Uncle Nole, Grey!”

Nolan had finally grunted his agreement and Velvet had drifted off to sleep sometime later, Jonah still up singing silly little made-up lullabies and playing the simple little games you play with babies, and when she awoke next it was to the heavenly aroma of fresh coffee and sizzling bacon and something cinnamon-y baking in the oven.  And to the sounds of animated, if quiet, conversation and the happy chipper sounds of the baby playing with the electronic light-up toys in his play seat. 

Now, 24 years later, she still got a little misty at the memory of walking out into the open-concept kitchen\living\dining area of the old brick townhouse and experiencing the first-ever Delaney Family Valentine’s Day Breakfast.

“—more, Velvet?” 

Velvet blinked and then flushed slightly.  Whoops.  She’d been caught day-dreaming.  “I’m sorry?”

Jonah stood beside her chair with the glass pitcher of fresh-squeezed orange juice.  “I asked if you’d like any more.”  He told her gently.  “Happy Valentine’s Day, Wife.” He added quietly, in a way that made her think maybe he knew exactly where she’d wandered off to just then. 

She grinned up at him and then looked around the table at her family.  They were all there—Viola, looking bleary eyed and grumpy as a teenager should, the twins, both in their glasses because it was way too early to think about putting in contacts, Even Avalon had decided to come and she’d somehow convinced Ben of the endeavor, and the handsome young man was enduring it gracefully, she thought.  And, of course, Grey with Maggie. 

Velvet had asked Nolan, when he’d married Zahra, if he would keep coming over to their place—She and Jonah had moved out of the townhouse when they’d married, but he’d made the early morning trip over to their new place annually—for the traditional breakfast.  He’d smiled, said he would miss them very much, but that it was time to start his own family traditions. 

She wondered what that Delaney bunch did on this day.  She’d never thought to inquire.  And Caleb sometimes joined them, but this Valentine’s was especially prickly and he couldn’t be convinced to crawl out of bed this time around to celebrate ‘that idiot cupid’. 

But she had her family, and that made her warm and contented.

“No, thank you, Sweetheart.”  She said in response to the juice query, and he moved around the table to offer to Avalon and Ben.

She listened to Maggie discussing the wedding with Ava, and to the twins teasing their father about the silver at his temples, and to Grey trying to pull his youngest sister out of her moody teenager-y gloom with humor, and she turned to Ben, who was sipping his coffee and casting his glance about, looking for a conversation to join.

She leaned over to him and confided: “I wasn’t a Delaney at my first Delaney Family Valentine’s breakfast either, you know.”

He lowered the coffee mug from his lips and smiled.  “No?”

She shook her head and giggled.  “Grey wasn’t either, I guess, come to think of it.”  She added thoughtfully, realizing that while Jonah’s intent was clear from before Grey’d been born, she hadn’t actually processed the papers until he was around six months old.

“I wasn’t what?”  Grey asked sharply, always able to hear his name when spoken in a crowd.

“A Delaney, at the first Valentine’s day.”  She answered, throwing a contrite look at Jonah who was leaning in to ask Viola about more orange juice, the very idea of which seemed to make the girl faintly ill. 

“Ah.”  Said Grey in response and met eyes with Maggie.   Velvet followed his gaze and saw Maggie nod marginally and nibble her lower lip.  “Funny you should bring that up.”  Grey said, rising from his seat and going to stand behind Maggie’s chair.

The table quieted down and everybody was watching Grey curiously.  Velvet felt a hand on her own shoulder and looked up to see Jonah smiling a little, captivated by Grey.

“Because, this time next year there will be another Delaney with us.”

Velvet looked at Ben for a moment before remembering that Ben wouldn’t become a Delaney, Avalon would be becoming a Sinclair.  She looked back at Grey, who seemed to be locked in a challenging gaze with Jonah, and then at Maggie who didn’t seem able to meet anyone’s eyes.

The hand on her shoulder squeezed gently and she looked up, puzzled.  Then the hand was gone and Jonah was crossing around the breakfast table to where Grey stood, and extending the hand for a shake.  “Congratulations, Son!”  He said warmly “That’s wonderful news!”  Velvet watched him pull Grey into a hearty embrace and then kiss the boy’s cheek before pulling Maggie from her seat, hugging her and bending to kiss her cheek as well.  “Congratulations.”  He said again.

“Thank you.”  Maggie said shyly, still hardly able to keep her eyes off the table. 

“When are you Due?”  Velvet heard Avalon ask sharply.

Maggie looked at Grey, who smiled easily at his sister.  “Summer.”  He replied vaguely, but in a tone that did not invite follow-up.

“Due?”  Velvet heard herself ask. And she felt all eyes upon her, even Maggie’s. 

Jonah chuckled into the tense stillness of the kitchen.  “She’s in shock.”  He said pleasantly. “Can you blame her?  She’s still far too young to be a grandmother.”  He said, crossing back and kissing her atop her head, before whispering in her ear “Love, Our son is going to be a father.”

Her eyebrows lifted in the middle and her mouth opened in an ‘o’.  “Grey?”

Grey met her eyes and his lips quirked into something like a smile, his expression almost bittersweet.  “Surprised?”

“Maggie?”

Maggie blushed and smiled weakly at her mother-in-law and gave a little nod of affirmation.

Velvet knew, for certain, in that moment, that he’d married her because she’d gotten pregnant; and the image of Vaughan Grey’s arrogant, selfish face swam, unbidden, to the forefront of her mind and she quite suddenly began to weep uncontrollably.

“Velvet?”  Jonah’s voice was all concern and Grey’s joined in, “Mum?  Are you alright?”

Soon others at the table were asking, Jonah had Ava put the kettle on for more tea and Velvet felt ridiculous.  It was as if someone had pushed a button and opened floodgates.  She felt foolish and embarrassed and perfectly awful for ruining the big announcement.

“I’m so happy!”  She managed to force out through chattering teeth and sobs, earning nervous laughter from a few parties around the table.  Jonah knelt beside her chair and gathered her against him and she sobbed into his neck.  “I’m so happy.”  She repeated as he patted her back soothingly.

Dimly she was aware that Ben Sinclair had helped ease the awkwardness by getting out of his seat and going over to the opposite side of the table to congratulate the couple, which cued all her daughters to follow suit.

By the time all the family had congratulated them Velvet had managed to get herself mostly under control.  She sat up a little straighter, took her head from her husband’s shoulder and hastily swiped the wetness from her cheeks.  Sniffling and forcing herself to take reasonable breaths she smiled a watery smile at Jonah.  Her rock.  Her everything.  “I’m so sorry.”  She whispered and he smiled.

“Don’t you dare.”  He warned her playfully.  “Now go hug your son and daughter, Grandma.” 

Her eyes widened and she half giggled-half sobbed.  He helped her to her feet and when she was steady she practically flew at Maggie, wrapping the girl in a startlingly fierce embrace.  “This is absolutely wonderful.”  She told the girl passionately, holding her close, wanting to tell her so much more than was appropriate to do so in the kitchen, with all the family gathered around.  “Thank you.”  She said, pulling back enough to look deep into the girl’s dark eyes.  She wondered if the girl was frightened, or regretted her condition.  “Oh Maggie!”  She exhaled.  “I love you so much.”  And she squeezed her again, feeling the bonds of a kindred spirit, even if the poor girl was flummoxed by the overpowering surge of affection.  “And this baby will be everything to you, trust me.”  She said in an almost whisper.

“Gracias.”  Maggie said, reflexively slipping into Spanish with the heightened emotion.  “Thank you.”  She corrected shakily.

Between Jonah’s efforts and Ben’s too, the kitchen was soon bubbling with animated conversations.  Velvet heard the twins arguing playfully about whether it would be a boy or a girl, Viola wondered when, exactly it would be due, and Avalon made some comment about bridesmaid’s dresses. 

Still clinging to Maggie, Velvet felt a hand on her back and knew it wasn’t her husband.  Almost regretfully she released Maggie at last and, with a last reassuring smile that she tried to fill with all the subtext she couldn’t speak just now, Velvet spun to face her son.

He was so tall and handsome and grown up.  He looked like his father, only his eyes, her eyes, were kinder, she was sure of it.  She took his handsome face in her hands and searched those pale green eyes, trying to discover the truth that was eluding her.  “You’ve got to be good to her Grey.”  She told him at last, and she watched his bemused smile dissolve and his face grow serious.

“I know.”  He replied in a low voice.

“Grey—“

“I understand, Mum.”  He said curtly, his brows heavy over his eyes.

She swallowed and felt a trembling in her knees.  She hoped he did understand.  She hoped he would prove to be more Jonah’s son than Vaughan’s.  She pulled him into an embrace too, though this one was more guarded, wary. 

When she broke the hug she hitched a super-bright smile in place and declared with her signature verve: “We’ll have to have a baby shower!”

Up to Cedar Point

Hmmmmm.  Let's take a little break from the girl-talk and Grace Bennett, shall we?  Because, well, because the next segment just didn't get don last night, lol.  My bad.  

Instead I thought we could have a fun little vignette with Grey & Maggie.  This is when they are still first dating.  And Grey definitely has an agenda--which we find out a smidgen more about.

What I like about these scenes is that we can begin to see that Grey is more effected by Maggie than he'd like to admit.  She isn't like the other girls he's seduced--Well, i mean she IS, in many ways, very much the same; she's vulnerble and innocent and naive and totally falls for all his charms-- But there's something about her that gets him a little off his game too, makes him a little less 'perfect', and I'd like to explore that more.

Anywho, enjoy this steamy little scene.  Hope is spices up your Hump Day.

See also the movie theatre scene  (short, sexy, sweet), meet-cute, meet-cuter, and phelan.

*************************

He drove her up to Cedar Point, like something out of the nineteen fifties.  He thought about taking her back to his place, but she didn’t care for his roommate and he didn’t want to cool her mood at all.  Because she was on fire, and she was ready to push their relationship to the next level. 

What he’d done to her at the movie theatre had been the perfect amount of stimulus to tip her over the edge, and now she was hungry and needy and ready to play.

Which was a damn good thing if he was going to win that fucking bet with Phelan.

She was quiet and reserved as he drove, but her breathing was erratic and he knew she was skating that tenuous edge between throwing caution to the wind and regaining her good-girl senses.  Without taking his eyes off the dark, curving, cliff road he reached over and covered her trembling little hand with his large, confident one.  He gave a gentle squeeze to test the waters and when she responded with a much more ardent press around his thumb he grinned. 

He made a pleased sort of sound deep in his throat and easily drew her hand to rest on his solid upper thigh.  He felt her startle and pull back reflexively but he kept his hand over hers, gently but firmly compelling her to remain.  After a few heartbeats he felt her arm and fingers relax and she even kneaded his thigh a little with her sweet little fingers.

Fuck, but this girl was adorable.  Sliding his hand off hers, confident that she’d keep it there, he returned it to the gear shift before flashing her a warm smile. They were getting close to the scenic overlook but he wanted to see how far she’d explore so he slowed up a bit, not enough that she’d notice he was stalling, but enough to delay their arrival at the point.

He allowed his eyes to display his arousal, though not the depth and ferocity of it.  He didn’t want to scare the girl.  He showed her just enough, just the perfect amount to get her heart thudding and her cotton panties a little dewy.

It was difficult to read her big brown eyes in the darkness of the interior, but he was able to see her two front teeth capture the full softness of her lower lip and he felt a muscle tick in his jaw.  Focusing his eyes back on the treacherous road he hoped she couldn’t detect how badly he wanted to feel her mouth on him.

He’d been kissing those perfect lips for two weeks and every time he did, the need to feel them on his cock ratcheted up another few agonizing notches.  He’d even had one of Phelan’s overnight guests suck him off a few nights previous, trying to alleviate some of the maddening pressure his desire for Maggie’s mouth was putting on his senses, but it hadn’t done anything but fuel his hunger.

 The girl had been pretty skilled, and her mouth was a pleasing shape and her tongue performed well, but even as Grey had emptied himself down her throat he’d been thinking of Maggie’s luscious virgin lips, and the temporary relief of climaxing had worn off entirely too soon. He’d lain in bed, after she’d snuck back to his best friend’s room, with another rock hard erection that wouldn’t be satisfied. 

Now, in the darkness of the car he silently lectured himself to keep his cool, to pace himself.  He’d played this game enough times by now to know how to do it right.  And if he wanted her to give it up before the next two weeks were out he’d have to play it perfectly.  A month was not a lot of time to woo and win a virgin.  It was insane, actually, and it had been a stupid bet to take, but something about the way Phelan had taunted him had really gotten under his skin and he’d made the bet without blinking.

One month.  One month from their first date was all the time he had to make this girl fall in love and part her legs for him.  Or else he’d have to break up with her before he got the pay off and watch Phelan move in on her in her state of vulnerability and confusion and hurt.

Her fingers inched closer to where he strained to be free of his jeans and his lips parted in anticipation.  So far in their ‘relationship’ she’d proven to be deeply passionate, shown him that she had fires banked down insider her, but she’d also behaved like the innocent that she was.  They’d kiss, they’d make out for hours, but her hands always stayed unquestionably above-the-belt.  Sure she’d massage hungrily at his shoulders or tangle her fingers in his hair or dig her nails into his back, but that was all very PG, very romance novel, and until tonight he’d followed her lead and conducted himself like the gentleman she believed him to be, like the perfect hero for her little love story.

Because she was in love.  Already.  Head over heels.  Hell, Grey didn’t want to pat himself on the back too much, but he was pretty sure she’d fallen in love that morning he kissed her in the wine shoppe.  She was a romantic and he was more than adept at romance.

But as yet she didn’t seem to quite trust him, not fully, not enough to let her guard down and indulge in the forbidden activities he knew she wanted with all her heart.  That’s why he’d decided to coax her along a bit, why he’d chosen to let her know, by the little stunt he’d pulled in the cinema, just how sexy he found her.  Decided to send the clear and definite signal that he wanted her, when she was ready, and wasn’t entirely that paragon of gentlemanly patience afterall.

And she’d responded beautifully.  It seemed as if he’d made the right guess—that his little virgin wanted to move forward but hadn’t wanted to appear too wanton or loose.  Adorable.

Now her fingers were sliding very slowly but very steadily toward his cock and he ground his teeth together in order to keep from reacting visibly.  She was almost there but unfortunately so were they—to their destination.  Thinking quickly he shifted gears smoothly and kept driving.  In his peripheral vision he saw her head turn to watch the scenic overview move past her window and then he felt her questioning eyes on his profile.

Her hand wasn’t even an inch from finally finding his throbbing erection.  “I know a better place.”  He told her, impressed with the easy tone of voice he managed.  When her hand stayed still for a moment he turned to her. 

Fuck.  She was worried.  She’d felt safe with the scenic overlook.  “There’s this incredible spot up by the winery.”  He told her warmly.  “My uncle owns the place—I’ve never taken anyone, but I thought—“  God women were gullible; he let his voice hitch just a bit and felt, rather than saw, her reticence dissolving.  “I thought I’d like to share it with you this evening.”  He shot her a humble, hopeful glance and her head tilted to the side, her lips parted and she sighed.

“Is it private?” She whispered.  He didn’t answer right away.  It was totally fucking private.  It was this divine little spot on the edge of a small vineyard and the view of the falls was better than anywhere he’d been in town.  It was quiet and secluded, out of view from the main house and the winery offices.  During the day it was just another stretch of scenic access road for the vineyard, but at night, under the stars on a warm Indian summer evening like this?

But he wasn’t sure he could interpret her tone just now, not with his mind so preoccupied by the proximity of her hand to his dick.  He shifted again as the car turned off the main road and began its climb to La Bugia Bella Vineyard on Cedar Ridge. 

“Yeah it’s quiet.”  He kept his answer light and safe.  “It’s a romantic little spot—“  He continued carefully.  “But if you had your heart set on the point—“  he offered earnestly, letting the implied question hang thick in the air.  They both seemed to understand what he was really asking: did she trust him enough yet to let him take her to some secluded spot, far away from help should she need it. 

“It sounds perfect.”  She murmured and her hand finally slid over his shaft.  He closed his eyes for a brief moment and took a full, deep breath.  Her hand was small and warm on him and the gasp of surprise that escaped from her lips at the feel of him under her fingers made him flex in response and he knew, he knew without looking that she’d be nibbling on that luscious lower lip of hers.

He wished he were wearing thinner pants than jeans, but then again, her tentative, instinctive stroking felt so fucking good it might be better to have the heavy material dulling his senses.  Christ.  He didn’t want to come in his pants like a fucking thirteen year old.

“You’re perfect.”  He told her, allowing his awe and pleasure to sound in his tone.

She squeezed in response and answered with a ‘hmmm’ sound that made his lips quirk.  He shifted gears and pressed the car faster.  He wanted to hurry the fuck up and get there so he could do this right.

When she shifted in her seat and added her right hand to the novice exploration it was his turn to bite his lip. He sucked in his lower lip and clamped down hard.  For a moment she had the dilemma of not knowing whether to go over or under his arm where it rested on the gear shift; he tried to accommodate by lifting his arm while she tried under, then putting his arm low so she could try over. 

They met eyes and smiled, silently sharing the joke.  When she found a position that was workable he pushed back against the headrest, trying to relax.  Then both her hands were covering the length of him over his jeans, both hands rubbed and caressed and unwittingly teased him until he felt ready to reach down and free himself from the confines of the pants and let her wrap her fingers around him.

Had she been almost any other girl he might have.  But he wasn’t going to rush this.

He heard her sigh, a thick, shuddery thing, and felt her head come to rest on the side of his shoulder while she ministered to him.  The sweetness and wholesomeness of the gesture sent hot, licking flames over his entire body, head to toe, and he couldn’t control the pleasing shiver that chased them.

“Are we almost there?”  She asked and he was glad she couldn’t see the expression of blank astonishment that transfigured his face for a moment.  Jesus Christ.  After his surprise at her delicate impatience had passed he grinned and rushed to answer her.

“Almost, Love.”  He told her smoothly.

She pressed his cock hard against his leg and it was all he could do not to thrust his hips in response.  “Good.”  She admitted in a fevered sort of tone that made his blood boil.  “I love you.”  She added in a whisper, tilting her head up a fraction to watch his profile.

He was glad it was dark, because he had trouble hiding the reflexive wince at her words.  As quickly as he was able, he smoothed out his features and smiled a warm, fuzzy smile, keeping his eyes on the road so he wouldn’t have to meet hers.  He shifted gears again as they reached the turn-off and he rumbled a pleasing sound deep in his chest.  “I love you.”  He responded.  It wasn’t the first time he’d said it to her.  He’d ‘confessed’ he was falling in love a few nights previous, opening the door for her to admit her feelings for him.  But every time he said it, no matter how he’d like to pretend it didn’t bother him, every time he lied to her it cost him a little something.  “And I love what you’re doing to me.”  He added, because that, at least, he knew would sound perfectly sincere.

She chuckled softly and his body thrilled at the low, intimate sound of it.  Forcing himself to focus so that he didn’t accidentally drive them off a cliff, he slowed the car and finally brought it to rest on a little bluff facing the view of the falls.  Swallowing hard he shifted into park and switched to the parking lights before turning to her and pulling her face to his for a hungry kiss.  Goddammit but those lips were divine.

She made a tiny sound of surprise at having her face captured so possessively but then she sighed into his mouth and began kissing him back without restraint.  He growled a little as he reminded himself to slow the fuck down.  He wound the kiss down expertly, despite her fervent attempts to enflame him further, and he pulled his head back from hers to gaze into her eyes. 

He smiled and she looked pleased and needy and nervous and eager all at once.  He ran his thumb over her lips and she kissed it readily.  Fuck, but she was perfect.  He wished he could teleport them somewhere more conducive to this kind of activity.  As it was, they were going to have to move out of the car if he wanted anything more to happen.  This wasn’t the kind of girl one expected to lean over the gear shift and suck him off. 

“I have the picnic blanket in the trunk.”  He told her smoothly as she flicked her tongue across the pad of his thumb playfully.  Her eyes widened a bit and he knew he was gambling, running the risk of her getting too skittish if he broke the spell and opened the car doors.  But it was a gorgeous Indian summer night, they were isolated from the rest of the world, with a breathtaking view and an undeniably powerful physical attraction to one another.  He was fairly confident he could keep her in the mood—she just had to want to trust him and go with him.  “I think you’ll fall in love with the view.”  He said, and kissed her again, this time in that soft, teasing way that made her hotter than hell.

She nodded and whimpered and he pulled away with a tender smile. “Let’s go sit under the stars then.”  He teased her gently and chucked her under the chin.  He kissed the tip of her nose before pulling the keys out of the ignition and opening his door.  With a chuckle he lifted her hands from his lap and kissed both her palms in turn and then slipped gracefully out of the BMW without another word.

The Honeymoon

Hey-ohhh!  

I know we've already moved past Grey & Maggie's honeymoon with THE DINNER (a whole series of vignettes- easy enough to find since they are all labled THE DINNER.  check em out sometime!), but here's a little taste of when they first arrive.  if you haven't checked out their drive up to the resort, I think you should.  His perspective and hers are together in a double entry.  god I love saying that.  ok.

well.

Enjoy!

**************

Grey inserted the little plastic card and withdrew it with none of the fuss that usually accompanies such a transaction.  He pushed down on the smooth nickel handle and opened the door inward to reveal a room like Maggie had never seen.

She stood, rooted to her spot just outside the threshold, and couldn’t hope to keep her face the neutral mask she so desperately wanted to present.  She didn’t want him to know how stunned and overwhelmed the sight of such luxury made her, but she couldn’t help it.  He’d grown up with a silver spoon, this was probably old hat to him, completely unspectacular.  He held the door open for her and waited patiently for her to recover her senses.  When, after a moment she had failed to do little besides stare, he finally spoke.

“Would you like me to carry you over the threshold Mrs. Delaney?”

Something unnerving skittered down the length of her spine at the sound of his voice and she blushed, like she did everytime when he referred to her like that.  She wondered if he’d tire of the snide little jest, or if she’d ever get used to being Mrs. Delaney.

Maggie snapped her jaw closed firmly and lifted her chin a fraction before taking a full breath and breezing into the immense and incredible suite.  The sun was setting and now she understood just why Mrs. Delaney, her new mother-in-law, had been so adamant that they arrive in time to catch this marvelous time of day.  A warm, brilliant amber-pink glow pierced and suffused the suite with a brilliance and an ambiance that was stunning, vital and, well, there was no other word for it: it was undeniably romantic.  Maggie sincerely hoped that the orangey glow from the expansive span of French windows would be effective in hiding the full-body blush that had swept over her at the sight of the enormous bed sprinkled in rose petals and complete with a tray containing a bottle of champagne in a silver champagne bucket, two upturned champagne glasses, a crystal goblet full of strawberries and a single perfect rosebud in a tall, slim vase.

She heard the door click closed behind her, but didn’t turn.  She wanted to remember this room exactly how it stood in that moment; perfect and lovely and bathed in a soft, sweet glow.  She knew it was all an illusion, that the spell couldn’t last and they’d be two people co-habiting a honeymoon suite with no plans at all for a honeymoon.  But she wanted to savor this moment of make-believe that Grey’s mother had gifted them with, just wanted to take a mental picture and lock it away before a week of bickering and cold stares and guilt and blame tore the romantic reverie apart.

There was a marble fireplace and a built-in dark wood unit that likely housed a television, there was a lovely kitchenette with a pair of stools at a breakfast bar.  By the expanse of French windows there was an exquisite round dining table with four finely upholstered chairs.  There was an entire living room.  Not too far from the enormous bed there was also a sleek, built-in hot tub.  Right out in the open. In a romantic recessed alcove, like a hedonistic twist on an apse.  Maggie blushed again.

She moved slowly in and through the space admiring the undeniably luxurious details of everything.  The color palette was soft and modern, coffee and espresso and black and cream with nickel details on knobs and trim and with deep crimson accents in pillows and in area rugs and of course in the embarrassing display of rose petals.

They had access to a sizeable balcony, complete with sun chairs and an outdoor loveseat, but Maggie knew it would be too cold to do much more than go out and peek at the view before coming back in to get toasty.  She imagined June brides would take full advantage of such a balcony on their honeymoons.

As she ran a tentative finger along the rich damask window treatments she heard the metallic ding and crush of the ice in the champagne bucket and startled. She looked over her shoulder to where Grey was examining the wine and unbuttoning the top few buttons of his shirt.  He hadn’t worn a tie.  She’d never seen him wear one.  The jacket he’d been wearing was already shed and she spied it curved over the back of a very dramatic looking upholstered chaise in the region of that daring hot tub.

“We’re accumulating quite a selection.”  He remarked before plopping the bottle back into its icy seat and sighing.  He scanned the room almost disinterestedly and finally found her eyes.

She stared at him, in the dying light of their wedding day, and wished she didn’t find him so attractive.  His hair was perfect, despite the hours-long drive.  His stubble was growing in much darker than it had been this morning and sense memory told her exactly what it would feel like under her fingertips, beneath her lips, on the sensitive skin around her nipples, and lower too.  She bit her lower lip and reprimanded herself for wishing, even for a moment, that this could be a real honeymoon.

Because she hated him.  He was arrogant and selfish and self-centered and cruel and he’d broken her heart and worse.  She didn’t love him anymore.  She loathed him.

But she couldn’t convince her body to this way of thinking.  Whenever she was around him her body responded as if they’d never broken up.  It responded to the scent of him, to the rich timbre of his voice, and most especially to those dangerous pale-green eyes.  She sighed and willed the swarm of butterflies in her abdomen to be still.  He wasn’t hers anymore and she wasn’t his.  Not really.

“What’s the note say?”  She asked, her voice surprisingly thick and dusky.  She cleared her throat and hoped he hadn’t detected anything incriminating about her tone or her posture or in the depth of her stare.

She couldn’t be sure but she thought she saw his gaze flick up and down her body before he turned his attention to the little note accompanying the champagne and strawberries.  Her breathing was shallow.  Even if he hadn’t looked her over the way he always used to, the way that made her nipples stand on end and a forbidden pulse jump below her navel, even if he hadn’t just done it, her body insisted on reacting as though he had, and Maggie stole an appreciative up-and-down of him while he reached for the note and scanned the message.

He was gorgeous.  She almost resented how good looking he was.  She wished he wasn’t aware of how devastatingly handsome he was.  He’d used his good looks as a tool against her, and against dozens, maybe more than a hundred girls, and she wished that fact could help sure-up her resolve to hate the very sight of him.

“Congratulations Newlyweds—relax, indulge, and enjoy.  Much Love, XO, XO, Mum & Dad.”  Grey sounded apathetic and maybe a little snide as he read it.  He tossed the card back to the tray carelessly.

He grabbed a few strawberries from the crystal goblet and waltzed toward the bathroom.

She blushed.  Holy Mother.  It occurred to her that he might need to use the bathroom, while she was there in the hotel room.  Maybe she would leave, go for a walk, visit the gift shop or something and give him his privacy.  She took a breath and tried to calm herself down, tried to be rational about it.  They were going to be living together after this; was she supposed to leave the house every time he needed to use the restroom?  At that moment the idea didn’t feel so farfetched.

She’d never lived with anyone besides her family.  Her Papa and her little sister.  She’d never lived with a near stranger, nor shared a hotel room with one.

“Do you prefer to shower in the evening or the morning?”  He called, his voice bouncing off the tiled walls and floor of what sounded like a fairly cavernous bathroom.

Her tongue felt sluggish.  “The night.”  She called weakly.  “If that’s alright?”

Her father had always been a morning shower guy so Essie and Maggie had made it a habit to shower at night.

He emerged from the bathroom and peered at the hot tub.  “Fine.”  He said.  “I could use a soak after that drive.”  He said, rubbing the back of his neck and looking pensive.  His eyes flicked up to hers, and he caught her staring.  “I didn’t bring my swimsuit.”  He said in a challenging voice.

“I can find somewhere to go.”  She replied quickly and he rolled his eyes.

“I was just kidding.”  He said irritably and bit into an over-large strawberry.

She hadn’t thought to bring her swimsuit either.  It was January, after all.  And she’d been in something like a mad panic at the thought of being cooped up with Grey somewhere for a week.  For a ‘honeymoon’.  Ay Dios.

“You hungry?”  He asked, strolling toward the mini kitchen and opening an empty refrigerator.

She couldn’t help admiring the way he walked into a space and seemed to own it.  Make it his.  She was still walking as if on eggshells, but he was behaving as if all this was built and appointed solely for his pleasure.  Maybe that attitude was a result of being enormously wealthy.

She felt a little like she ought to be working for him, and she scolded herself for even thinking such a thing.  She was his wife.  Legally she was every bit his equal.  She needed to get used to it, embrace it and come to terms with it for the sake of her child.  What good would it do the baby to grow up feeling as though its’ mother was inferior to its’ rich, handsome, powerful father?  She needed to call on all her inner strength and stand up to him and hold her own.

“I am.”  She answered.  All the nausea of the morning and afternoon had passed and she was quite famished.  “Thanks for the milkshake.”  She added.  It had been just the perfect thing. 

“Don’t mention it.”  He said, his brow drawing together in a brooding expression as he meandered over to an impressive, luxurious desk.

She was thanking him for more than the milkshake, but she didn’t have the courage to say so.  She hoped he could sense it.

He pulled open a handsome leather-bound volume and scanned a few pages.  “Pretty comprehensive menu, are you in the mood for anything in particular?”

Maggie felt very shy all of a sudden.  And aware that she was alone with him.  In a hotel.  She could kick herself.  What had she thought this would be?  Of course she was alone with him in a hotel.  That’s how this sort of thing worked.

With a deep breath and a firm admonishment to herself not to behave so ridiculously, she strode over to join him at the desk and tilted her head to read the menu with him.

She felt him look at her but she kept her eyes on the menu.  Of course, as long as she felt him staring at her she was unable to actually read the menu.  She gathered that there were salads and soups, and that’s about all she was able to glean, though she thought she did an admirable job of appearing to peruse the menu while he studied her.

No doubt he was trying to get used to her just as she was struggling to acclimate herself to him.  They were stuck together.  Not only for the next seven days, but for the next seven years—unless he broke the contract and the marriage dissolved early.  It would cost him a shocking, devastating amount should that happen.  She hadn’t done it for the money though.  She swallowed, thinking about her reasoning.

She’d wanted to ensure that he participated in raising the child.  That he was there, present, involved.  She wanted her child raised in as stable a home environment as she could manage.  And the only way to get him to commit to that was to threaten extreme monetary and property loss if he broke the contract.

As for the other stipulations.  She felt the hair on the back of her arms lift and her neck tingled.  She didn’t want to be made a public fool of.  She didn’t honestly expect Grey to be faithful to her, abide by vows he neither felt nor believed in, but at least now he’d likely be discreet about his philandering and trysts.  And maybe even think twice about them.

“Nothing looks good?”  He asked, and she realized he was reacting to the gloomy face she had put on at the thought of Grey with other women.  It shouldn’t bother her.  She didn’t love him.  She didn’t expect anything to happen between them any more, he was done with her, and she wasn’t so cruel that she’d deny him seeking physical and maybe even emotional release outside of their marriage of convenience.

She forced her face into a bland expression.  “Actually so much of it looks delicious, I’m having trouble deciding.”  She lied.

He tilted his head and narrowed his eyes at her.  She thought he could tell.  Tell that she was lying.  But he held his tongue and glanced back at the menu.  “Shall I order for both of us?”

She bit her lip.  It was the same thing he’d always ask when he took her out to eat.  He was very skillful at it.  Never once had he ordered something she didn’t thoroughly enjoy.  Something twitched and ached in her chest at the memories. 

“Thank you.”  She said and moved away from the desk before he could read any deeper into her.  He was too good at that, or maybe she was too easy to read.  Either way it left her feeling vulnerable and silly and very like a foolish little girl.  Especially because he was so unfathomable to her.

How could a man so effectively fake love and romance?  What kind of person is capable of that?  She shivered and wandered off toward the bathroom, curious about the accommodations. 

She flicked on the light and gaped.  It was grand.  All soft sandy beige and white, it was soothing and felt very like Maggie would imagine a spa might feel.  She’d never been to one, but this looked like the exotic spas she’d seen on commercials and on the home and garden channel.  The tub was enormous, most definitely built for two.  And there was a separate shower, with multiple shower heads, and this too was built for a couple.  There was room enough for an upholsterd bench, and there was an abundance of clean, fluffy white towels, and so many complimentary toiletries!

She heard his voice rumbling low and commanding and knew he must be placing their room service order.  She couldn’t make out the words, but she thought she’d rather be surprised anyhow. 

Looking in the mirror she sighed.  She looked tired, and tense, and her garment was wrinkled from the long ride.  She gazed at her figure in the red dress she’d borrowed.  While she felt bloated and uncomfortable and poured-into the dress, she was rather pleasantly surprised to see that she didn’t look as awful as she felt in it.  It certainly showed her breasts to advantage.  No wonder her father had scowled at the sight of her.  And despite feeling like her late first-trimester belly was obvious, in this dress she looked trim and slim and it certainly flattered. 

She thought about the very skinny, very pert teenage girl at the smoothie place and scowled.  Was that Grey’s type?  If that girl was over fifteen she certainly hadn’t looked it.  And she’d looked so, so, cheap and inappropriate.  Was that the sort of girl he wanted?

“Should be up in about a half-hour to forty-five.”  He said, standing in the doorway to the bathroom.  “Do you need me to run and get something from the gift shop to tide you over?”

She already felt fat.  She glowered at him.  “I’ll try not to eat the furniture before the food gets here.” She snapped.

He blinked.  “I didn’t—“  He stopped.  “All you’ve had today is a milkshake.”

She took a slow, deep breath, held it, and then let it out just as slowly.  “I’m sorry.”  It was a struggle to say it, but she forced herself to do it. 

His lips twitched into a hint of a smile.  “I could use a candy bar.”  He said decisively.  “I’m gunna run down and get some things.”

He’d hesitated in the doorway for a moment more before disappearing out into the main body of the suite.  “Be right back.” He called.  She closed her eyes and held onto the sink until she’d heard the door to the room open and click closed again.

Then, when she was sure he’d gone, she let herself sink to the stone tiled floor of that beautiful bathroom, and she burst into tears.

Essie Ramirez

While we're introducing new voices to the Cedar falls universe, howzabout we meet Esperanza Maria Ramirez? This is Maggie's younger sister and best friend in the whole world.

And like many of us sisters\best friends, our young spitfire has a thing or two to say about the guy Maggie's ended up with!

!Ay Caramba!

********************

Essie Ramirez pulled off her black pocketed waitress apron and shoved it in her locker. 

“Essie?”  Her sister tried again to draw her into a conversation.  But Esperanza kept her mouth in a firm line.  She wasn’t willing to engage Maggie.  She was furious.

“Hermana, please?”  Maggie put a hand on Essie’s shoulder. 

Essie listened to the sounds of the restaurant in order to distract herself from her anger and disappointment.  She heard their father, Hector, barking out orders to the new busboys.  She heard the fuzzy, bright sound of all-spanish radio—it was a commercial for a Mexican airline with special deals for Valentine’s day.  The clink, clunk of pots and utensils on stainless steel counter tops, the hiss-sizzle of onions and peppers cooking on the wide, flat grill top, she heard the tail-end of a ribald joke in Spanish and the resulting laughter from Hugo and the boys in the kitchen.  She heard the high-pitched nasal whine of Flora, the new waitress Hector had pulled in to pick up more of Maggie’s old hours.

“Essie, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before, but it all happened so fast—“

Essie cursed, causing her sister’s hand to drop from her shoulder as though she were made of barbed wire.  “Dammit Magalita, I’m not pissed you didn’t tell me—“  She glared into her sister’s wide brown eyes, “I’m pissed you married that asshole!”

Maggie’s eyes washed over with some flash of emotion but before Essie could discern which emotion it was, they were downcast and shielded.  “I understand how you feel.”  Maggie said quietly.

Essie clucked her tongue.  “Really?”  She challenged, “Do you?”

Maggie sighed heavily and looked at her sister again.  The only emotion coloring her expression now was a weary resignation.  “I know you don’t like him and I get that.”

“He’s a dirtbag!”  Essie couldn’t help the way her voice rose in volume.  Maggie blushed and looked around the breakroom but they were the only two in the dingy little cell of a room at present.  “Maggie he used you and broke your heart, why on earth would you do this?”

Maggie swallowed.  “Essie, please—“

“No.”  Said Essie, slamming the locker closed and moving away from her sister.  “No Maggie, I won’t. I can’t.  So don’t even ask me to ‘understand’ or to ‘trust you’ or any of that because this guy is a sleaze.”  She paced the small room, wanting very much to kick something or scream or grab hold of her big sister and shake some sense into her.  “He’s the worst kind of guy—I asked around about him Maggie, after he dumped you, and I know things about him that I won’t even tell you they’re so bad.”

Maggie’s eyebrows drew together.  “What things?”  She demanded.

Essie shook her head.  “And who was there for you night after night for weeks and weeks after he decided he was done with you?”  She threw at her sister “Who held you while you cried yourself sick again and again?”

Maggie’s face softened.  “You are too good to me Ess.”  She said softly.  “And you know I love you more than anything.”

Essie huffed.  “I’m so furious with you Magdalena.”  She told her, ceasing her pacing and squaring off, her arms folded across her chest, one hip cocked, a foot tapping.  “I can’t believe Papa isn’t flipping out about this.”  She stared at her sister, but Maggie only bit her lip.  “Is it because he’s rich?  Is it?  Because you always told me that girls who married for money were hardly better than whores.”

Maggie’s mouth fell open and tears welled in her eyes.  “It isn’t the money.”  She said, her voice thin and uneven.

Essie felt a shiver of shame for being so ruthless with her sister but her blood was pumping molten fire and she had no hope of governing her tongue.  “Then what is it?  What could possibly possess you to marry a two-timing, lying, selfish, disgusting son of a bitch like that?”  Essie took a quick breath and kept right on going “The same man who fooled you into loving him, made you have sex with him and then threw you away like you were just some stupid slut?”  Essie cringed as Maggie buried her face in her shaking hands.  “Is this the kind of guy worth marrying?  Hm?  Is this the kind of guy Mamma would want you to stand before God with Maggie?”

Maggie pulled her head out from behind her hands and her face was twisted in pain, wet from tears, and somehow still a little defiant and bold.  “I’m pregnant.”  She declared and jutted her chin out, her eyes glittering.

Essie took the words like a blow to the stomach.  All the wind seemed to be forcibly sucked out of her and her tongue felt tingly and fat.

“He didn’t use a condom and I got pregnant and I didn’t know what else to do.”  Said Maggie, matching Essie’s stance by crossing her arms over her chest and leaning into one hip.  “I don’t blame you for hating him, I don’t think I’ll ever forgive him either, but what’s done is done, and he’s my husband now and I need you to stop punishing me for this because it’s already more awful than I can stand.”

Maggie’s lower lip trembled but she seemed unwilling to cave to more tears.  She stood, clenching and unclenching a muscle in her jaw, and blinking rapidly, and stubbornly refusing to back-down or break.

Essie was stunned.  “You’re?”

Maggie nodded impatiently.

But it didn’t make sense.  Part of what she’d learned about Grey Delaney was his habit of convincing girls he’d knocked-up to get abortions.  Why would he make an exception this time?  Why had he agreed to marry Maggie?

“Does Papa Know?”  Gasped Essie, panicked.

Maggie’s strong front wavered.  “I don’t know…”

“You think he suspects?”  Essie was mortified.  She couldn’t imagine how awful it would be to have her father suspect her of being easy and sleeping with boys.  How must Maggie feel?  How must their father feel about Maggie now?  Suddenly Essie felt ready to well-up.  The disappointment and the broken heart her father must be feeling—

“I think, maybe.”  Maggie said and brushed a stray curl from her face and tucked it behind her ear.  She looked as miserable as Essie felt for her.  “And we’re going to be married in the church in a week.”  She said flatly.  “Since Papa wasn’t happy with the civil ceremony.”  Maggie crossed to the shabby wood-laminate cafeteria-style break table and sat on the rusty old locker-room style bench.  “He looked so sad, Essie, I wanted to die.”  She shivered.  The two sisters were quiet for a long oment, letting the bustling sounds of the restaurant soothe and lull them as they thought about their father, the baby and what a mess their quiet little life had just become.  After a while Maggie pulled herself out of whatever maudlin musing she had been indulging in.  “Anyway, I wanted to ask you to stand up with me at the church.”

Essie felt the growing pool of sympathy for her sister freeze over.  “You want me to stand up, in front of a priest, in front of Mary, and the saints, and before God, and pretend that I’m OK with all of this?”

Maggie looked tired and she shrugged.  “What else was I supposed to do?”  She asked blandly.  “What would you have done?”

Essie came dangerously close to telling her sister the truth: that she’d never have spread her legs for that smooth-talking bastard millionaire, but she managed to keep her mouth shut long enough to think of something marginally more diplomatic to say.  “Did he try to make you get an abortion?”

Maggie went very still for a long moment.  “Yes.”

Essie nodded. Then crossed herself rapidly and sent up a quick prayer for Maggie’s baby. Thank God her sister had had the courage to stand up to that slick son-of-a-bitch.  And thank God that at least her sister was still honest with her.  “How’d you get him to marry you?” She asked when she’d said a silent ‘Amen’ to Mary.

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Excuse me?!”

“It doesn’t matter Essie, the point is—“

“The point is you’re going to go make vows, in the name of the father, and you’re both going to be up there lying, lying in a church Maggie.”  Essie shook her head in disgust.  “If you think that isn’t going to end up coming back to haunt you then you’re, you’re crazy AND stupid.”

Maggie nodded a few times and then stood slowly.  She looked her sister in the eye and she seemed cloaked in a peculiar calm.  “Alright Essie.  You’ve made your feelings clear.  I won’t ask you again.”  And Maggie started for the door, her spine straight, her shoulders back.  Serene.

“Wait, Hermana, wait, Magalita!”  Essie was still furious, she was sick with frustrated rage, and she was worried beyond measure, worried for her sister and for that little unborn baby.  Maggie stopped, her hand on the door.

“What else is there to say?”  She asked, sounding numb and aloof.

“I love you.”  Essie said, trying hard not to sound too sharp or irritable.

“Te amo, también.”  Maggie responded mildly.

“No matter what, Soy su hermana—“  Essie took a breath, “—y estare siempre alli para ti.”  She wanted to be as good a sister to Maggie as Maggie always was to her.  Even though it sucked.  Even though it felt impossible right now.

“Gracias hermanita.  La necesito.”

“Anything special you want me to wear?”

Maggie turned to her sister and gave her a weak smile.  She shook her head and pushed open the door.

The sounds from the kitchen rushed into the breakroom unfiltered and Essie sighed as she watched her sister go.

The door closed again and when the sounds became muffled once more Essie felt insulated from the too-rapidly changing life outside the dismal break-room.  Her sister was married and having a baby.  Essie knew nothing would ever feel the same again.  She closed her eyes, sank into the raggedy old couch that was probably older than herself, and she stayed there for a very long time.