28. February 14 - Wilder

Ismooth my hair back in the mirror, wanting to look good for her and our last night together.

Last night together. Those words romp around in my head like jumping beans, and I stare at myself in the mirror, trying to understand what about those words bothers me.

A knock at the bathroom door pulls my attention away from my reflection, and I turn as Savannah pushes the door open. I'm only wearing a towel around my waist, but there's certainly no shyness between us now. She smiles and approaches me, running her hand down my naked spine.

"Are you excited for dinner?" she asks, her voice husky, like she's on the verge of crying.

My hands itch to touch her face and show her it'll all work out, but I can't. I'll cry, and that's a weird thing for me to think. I don't fucking cry, especially over a woman.

In every single cuffing season of my past, this was a night of fun because I knew I was leaving the next day. There were drinks, lots of kissing, lots of sex, and I fell asleep with the knowledge that I'd pack up my things and hit the road the next day.

I wish I owned a time machine to go back to October when I met Savannah and relive the entire cuffing season with her. When I reach February fifteenth, I'll go back again, like a four-month-long Ground Hog Day experience. I'd experience everything with her over and over until the end of time, and I hate that tonight is the last time we'll go to dinner, the last time I'll be inside of her, the last time she'll moan my name against my jaw, and the last time she'll fall asleep next to me, her steady breath lulling me to sleep.

I drop the towel from my waist and kiss Savannah's forehead. "I'm very excited for dinner. We can take care of my excitement, or you can leave me to dress."

She looks down at my erection and licks her lips. "Think we can be a little late for our reservation?"

I lean in and nip at her chin. "If they won't let us in, there's always Chili's."

"I love Chili's," she says, wrapping one arm around my neck and bringing her other hand to my cock. "They have the best margaritas."

"It was nice of them to let us in thirty minutes late for our reservation on Valentine's Day," Savannah says, perusing the expensive seafood restaurant's menu.

"We need to hurry and eat."

"Why?" she asks. "What's the hurry? I thought we'd linger over dinner and hang out the rest of the night."

"I got you a Valentine's Day gift. Well, it's kind of a general gift. I'd give it to you anyway."

"I didn't know we were exchanging gifts."

"We didn't talk about it, but I wanted to do this for you."

I reach into my back pocket and bring out the ballet tickets I purchased a few weeks ago when she was mad at me. At the time, it was the only idea I had. I place the paper tickets on the table and smile. "It's an original ballet. The local company does a Valentine's Day show every year. I don't know if you even like ballet, but I wanted to do something different than the usual…"

She interrupts my sentence by standing up from the table so quickly that her chair falls behind her and people turn to look. She circles the table, cups my face in her warm hands, and kisses me hard in front of everyone.

I laugh against her lips and run my hands through her hair, pulling her into the kiss. I don't give a damn there are people watching us make out in a nice restaurant.

I mouth her lips and accept the tongue she tentatively darts into my mouth, thanking me. Shit, I should have taken more women to the ballet over the years if it would work this well.

She pulls back and looks at me just as the waiter arrives to take our orders of lobster and baked potato for both of us. He walks away, and Savannah returns to her seat. "I've never had such a nice Valentine's Day, Wilder. Thank you," she says, her voice husky, like she's choking back tears.

I wish I could do more for her. I'd take her to a million ballets if she'd let me, but she was clear she doesn't want anything serious. She has school to finish.

I take a swig of my table wine and smile. "The night's not over, baby."

"That was insanely amazing, Wilder. What an amazing performance."

I almost fell asleep during the ballet, but tonight isn't about me.

She sets her purse on her entryway table and turns back to me, placing her hands on my chest and running them down to my belt. I put my hands on her waist and press my forehead to hers, breathing in her scent like I'm committing it to memory.

I inhale her in and exhale her out, wishing I could imprint the smell of her in my nose. I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to get rid of this feeling.

"I may have also got you a little something. It's not exactly a gift, but I wanted tonight to be special," she says against my cheek. "You need to go into the bedroom and wait for a few minutes."

She grabs my hand, leads me to her bedroom, and playfully pushes me toward the bed before swinging the door shut and disappearing down the hallway. The silence of the room without her here with me strikes me as funny, and I laugh as I lift my shirt over my head. I get on the bed and settle against her numerous throw pillows.

"Are you comfortable?" she asks through the door a couple of minutes later.

"Should I take my pants off?" I chuckle.

"Um, not yet. Just promise me you won't laugh. I don't know if my ego could handle it."

"I'm intrigued. What are you doing?" I lean up on my elbows and stare at the door.

It opens enough for her to stick her head around. "Close your eyes for a minute."

I shut my eyes. At least, it looks like I do. I keep them open enough to see her slink into the room in black lingerie, complete with lacy garter belt. She's carrying a chair and a silk scarf.

To hell with shut eyes. "Holy shit! Savannah, you look hot."

"You were supposed to close your eyes."

"What guy closes his eyes when his girl says to close them when she's walking in a room? She's either in lingerie or carrying a knife to stab him. Neither scenario warrants shutting eyes. What's with the chair?" I ask.

She places it at the foot of the bed and steps away from it, looking at it like it's a new car she's thinking of buying. "You know how I've been at the gym with Melissa the last few weeks?"

"Yeah."

She clears her throat and crosses her arms over her chest. "We actually went to a chair dance instructional class to learn lap dance skills."

I lean further up on my elbows. "Baby, please tell me you're going to do that dance for me and that I get to take that little lingerie getup off you with my teeth afterward."

She looks at the floor. "Savannah," I say, using a stern voice I don't usually use with her. "Stop covering your body. It's gorgeous. I can't think of a better gift tonight. Why are you shy now?"

"I just realized you've probably had a zillion lap dances in your life. I'm not sure I can compare."

I'm off the bed in a heartbeat. I cross over to the metal chair and plop down in it like I own the thing, crooking a finger for her to come to me. She obeys my direction and walks to me, shrieking as I pull her down until she's sitting on my lap.

My fingers itch to tear the black fabric from her skin. I push her hair back from her face and tilt her chin so she's looking at me. "Oh, I've had a lot of women dance for me. Beautiful women wearing pasties or a lot less than you are right now. Women that offered to do terrible things to my cock when they were done. Not one of them excited me more than the thought of you dancing for me tonight in that outfit. Not one of them is the woman that wouldn't have dreamed of doing this for me when I met her. Not one of them is the woman that I dressed up with at Halloween or went to holiday parties with. I want that dance, Savannah. I'm not letting you out of it."

"It won't be perfect like with them."

"It won't be perfect, but it will be you."

Maybe it's the sound of my voice that strengthens her, but she nods and gives me a small smile before getting off my lap and crossing the room. Her hands tremble, and she crosses her legs at the ankle while she fiddles with the music docking station across the room. "Will it put you at ease if I dance for you after you dance for me?" I ask.

She whirls around, eyes wide. "You'd do that?"

"Why not? Do you want me to dance for you, Savannah?"

She doesn't answer me, but her face hardens with something that must be confidence. The music starts, a techno beat I don't recognize, and she walks to dim the lights. I can see her through the moonlight streaming through the curtains, and it's enough to see every curve of her body and every inch of exposed skin.

She approaches me, runs her hands down my chest, and kisses me on the nose. Her lip trembles, but she hides it well, and I run my hand down her cheek. She catches my hand, kisses it, and pushes it away. "No touching at the club, sir."

"Indeed," I growl, placing my hands at the side of the chair.

She's an amateur. Her moves are more stilted than a professional stripper's, and there's no easy flow. I can tell this isn't natural for her, but her effort earns her a gold star.

She swirls her hips over my lap before grinding over my cock in time to the music. She drags the scarf up and down her body and slings it toward me, wrapping it around my neck and shimmying against my body. She turns and leans back against my chest, and the smell of her is overwhelming. Sex and her arousal mix with the usual smells I'll always associate with her. I long to reach my arm around her and pull her down to me, undo my pants, and take her reverse cowgirl in the chair, but she said no touching.

The song comes to an end faster than it should, and I realize I've enjoyed watching every move, every grind into me. As the last notes play, she turns to face me, rubs her nose against mine, and kisses me on the cheek before finishing in perfect submissive position on her knees with her head down like she's a member of a prince's harem.

"Stand up," I say, not recognizing the sex in my voice. "Your turn."

She stands as I get out of the seat, and I catch her before she can take my place. "You'll stand for this. No sitting. Get rid of the chair."

She pushes it aside while I go to her docking station and scroll through her phone for a song I can dance to. I've never done this before, and I've never taken a class. That Tatum guy did it for a movie, though. How hard can it be?

I finally find a suitable song and turn to face Savannah, still standing in the moonlight and still in that lingerie. My dick throbs against my pants for her, but I'll let the tiger out of his cage soon.

I cross the room and start moving in the sexiest way I can, swaying in front of her as I take the scarf and wrap it around her shoulders.

I only sway for a minute before she licks her lips and can't help herself from touching my stomach. I lean forward and nuzzle her ear while continuing to grind my cock into her wet panties. "I think touching is a good idea. I don't have the same rules."

She pushes her hands into my unbuttoned pants and grabs handfuls of my ass cheeks as I lift her off the floor. I stand in the middle of the room, still moving and writhing to the music. I don't think I look like a male stripper, but she doesn't seem to mind. She breathes like she's been for a run and languidly licks up and down my shoulder.

I lift her higher until her pussy's in my face and her legs are over my shoulder. I want to tease her the ways she toyed with me, so I kiss her thigh and the place where her leg meets her groin, smiling as she tosses her head back and moans.

"Do you want something, Savannah?"

"I want you, Wilder."

"You want me for what, sweetheart?" I taunt, leaning her against the footboard of her bed and grinding my hips into her in rhythm to the music.

"I want you for dirty, nasty, horrendous sex not even my mother would approve of."

"Mmm. That kind of sex, huh? I think we can arrange something. On one condition."

"Anything," she pants, throwing her head back so I can nip at her throat.

"We do it nasty once, and then we do it one last time to say goodbye to each other properly. Sweet. I want one dirty with you and one nice. I need to remember you both ways."

She pulls me down to the soft bed and wraps her legs around me as my hands go to her garter straps, flicking them open like a professional gigolo and rolling her thigh highs down. As I pass her slit, I grab the panties in my teeth and pull a little, toying with her before she slides them down for me.

I'm desperate as I pull the straps of her corset down and kiss her shoulders, her breasts, and her belly. I lick up her slit once as she sighs under me, but I can't stand it any longer.

I need her. I need her legs around my waist, moaning as I bury myself in her warmth. I need to feel something with her and memorize every curve of her body and how the innermost parts of her hug my private parts that are hers alone to enjoy tonight.

I slide into her and close my eyes, holding back things I want to say to her because I have no idea how to say them.