Big Surprises

"No I haven't. I don't intend to profit from it one bit."

"Of course you have. Six or seven million dollars by my rough calculation ... no, pounds, so double it — you even admitted it when you were getting out of the car a couple hours ago: 'we' were millionaires ... something about ..."

"We are millionaires, I'm a millionaire! My father might have been a wretched person but he was a great businessman. He left me a ton of money; the lawsuit from the accident left me a ton of money, and I'm good in the market — I've made a ton of money there. We've got over 20 million ourselves, the money I ... purloined has nothing to do with me and everything to do with charity. I intend to give every penny of it away as soon as we agree on where it should go."

The little key still pressed between my fingers was starting to feel unimaginably heavy. I never trusted this woman, never much trusted what she was saying, never trusted any of her motives, never trusted any of her high faultin planning: she may have temporarily smitten me but she had always been a thief. Until now. Now I saw a badly damaged woman who had fought like hell not only to overcome her trauma but to make something totally impressive of her life: university degrees up the ying yang, a solid career, a great mind and a strong well cared for body — she is a fascinating woman who wants to bring me front and centre into her life.

I felt dizzy, weak. I so desperately want to love her but I couldn't. Now I can ... and did, I could feel all of me rush to her, rush to envelope her, hold her, cherish her ... then I could feel me leaving my chair I could feel me pulling her to her feet, squeezing her, kissing her and I could feel her goodness ooze into me, empower me ... and then I could feel her body against mine, her lips pressing on mine and she was giving herself to me, body and soul and I could hear her: "oh, God, Mike, yes, yes ..."

I kissed her back with an abandoned passion I felt throughout my mind and body, I ravaged her mouth as one hand raked through her hair and the other pulled hard at an arm ... cuffed behind her back. I let her go appalled at what I was doing. The little key was still in my fingers. I started to apologize, was about to turn her around to get at the cuffs ...

"No, Mike, no, leave them on. Take me, totally fucking take me, own me, please. Now. Please."

These weren't words. I could see it in her face, hear it in her voice — the girl who had never loved anyone desperately wanted to. And, like me, she had lost it, lost her control, she had lost it to desire. I was back on her in an instant, my mouth on her's, my arms around her and together we shuffled out of the room into the bedroom where I eased her roughly onto the bed and followed her down.

I immediately went to her jeans but I wanted her so badly and she was squirming so much I had a hard time with them and with my guilt: I thought she may be straining to get out of the cuffs. But no, far from it. It was her yearnings; she was struggling with her forced submission; she has always been in charge; submission was driving her nuts, I could see it in her writhing body, in her face, distorted with desire, in her animalistic noises ... or were they mine? When I slid her jeans and panties off her slim white hips, her thin brown bush arced up at me as if she wanted to press it to my face but when her jeans cleared, her legs scissored open and her pussy pulsed so wantonly so lewdly it was clear what she needed. My pants were off in seconds and I was between her legs.

This was the first time I ever had any sense of what love is. As I placed my prick at her entrance I knew that this was an extraordinary moment in my life, perhaps the most meaningful thing I would ever do: I was physically connecting with the most important person I would ever know, the one women in 3.5 billion who had been culled, God only knows why, for me. As I slid into her, slid into her wet, tight tunnel I felt a transcendent joy that had me thinking of angels and as she rose up to force me in — I knew I was in a coupling that would last our lifetimes ... the magnetism was unbreakable.

And she knew it too: love shone through her desire and so did joy and understanding; her eyes were huge, alive with the thrill and she was cumming the moment I reached her depth, the moment my pubic hair velcroed to her's, she was cumming with me in a first joyous bond of our unity which we celebrated with our cries, our screams and our total collapse as the wonder of our union gushed through us and into our conscience: we had given ourself to each other absolutely.

And we were absolutely fucked, as if we had run a sprint in seconds ... and then the reality hit me: I had found the one, she was beneath me, she was lying hot and sweaty on my bed, my bed in my place, in my town, in my world; she had come to me, to be with me, to be mine and the thrill was over-powering. When I kissed her, her lips fought back at mine, then her tongue, then her moans ... then she turned her face away. She was laughing and shouting: "Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, do I ever love this!"

The words were so loud, so heralding that I pulled back in alarm to look at her. Hair was glued to her brow with sweat, drool gleamed on her lips, snot gathered beneath a nostril, this was expression unalloyed with artifice. I sat up fascinated, in that brief eruption she had given everything and now she was a spent force as messed up as an exploded fire cracker. I felt a jolt of love at the thought: this is how we are when it matters, giving so much we are spent, we have no more left to give, we must recharge. I sat up taller and looked down at her, at my commitment, the one woman who would be mine.

"Let me out." Her brow creased with her demand.

"In a minute. I want to look at you."

"Now!"

I ran my hand along the inside of her soft white thigh, up and down until she closed it. I pinched her flesh until she weakened her vice and I pulled her open and ran the backs of my fingers up against her hair. "Is this where I'm going to get my babies?"

"No." She bent her leg and kicked between mine, her toe catching a ball. "From here."

"Ouwww, jeez, why did you do that?" It hurt like hell for a moment.

"Uncuff me."

"No, I want to see you, I might never get another chance."

"Why not?"

"You know why not." I leaned forward and took her shirt and pulled it hard up and over her head so it ended up behind her like a high collar. Then I pushed up her bra and when I did her right breast flew out and bounced off her chin before landing on her chest at an odd angle. I picked it up. It was warm and soft and it had a lovely nipple that someone took time and passion to engineer. I sucked it, it reminded me of drinking from a styrofoam cup and it felt like one of those Tide soap balls you throw into the washer. I placed it beside her head and went to the real one and sucked eagerly, amazed at how hard her nipple was.

She was squirming again, I knew I could have her but I wanted this opportunity more. I went over to what would have been the other one, the one that, if it had been there, I wouldn't be — not a chance; her life would have turned out totally different, she would have tuned out guys like me: I was here only because her breast wasn't. I kissed the absent breast as an ally, little kisses all over it then I dragged my tongue along the long perimeter of the scar. She tried to turn away but I forced her shoulder down and took my time until she could do little else but lay still and when she did I slid further down, pressing my face into her taunt tummy, my tongue into her shallow navel and my nose into her pubic patch. I did all this as an owner might because that's the way I was feeling — she was mine.

I lay down with my face on her muff. "I love you Beda but I don't want to come home some night and find you've got a stash of bandages stored away that you've stolen from the hospital."

"If I do it will be in a different house. I'm not sharing this one with your memories. We're going out tomorrow to find a new one, a much nicer one — my furniture and art will be here in about a month. And you're going to show me my school and the city and everything else about your life. But that's tomorrow. Now, you're going to take these fucking cuffs off and make love to me three more times before we go out to dinner ... who's cuffs are they, anyway? That friend of your's sure didn't bring them with him. Why do you have them?"

"Long story."

"We'll get better ones — ones that don't hurt so much."