Page 43 of Merlot Marriage

My pending explosion gathers in my spine, all the muscles in my back screaming that we’re close, so close. I’m holding off myorgasm by a thread, needing her to fall over the edge with me as I keep the pace.

“Come on, baby. Come for me.” I need her to fall apart soon, or else I’m going to have to go back to tasting her sweet pussy so I don’t disgrace myself.

Ophie tightens around me, her nails clawing at my back and arms as she arches against me, her head thrown back while she cries out. I keep going, not slowing down as she rides out her orgasm. With a groan, I bite down on the muscle between her neck and shoulder. My vision goes black for a second, the unstoppable wave of my release hitting me.

Both of us gasping for breath, I roll off and flop beside her so I can remove the condom and tie it off, dropping it into the small trash can beside the bed. She reaches up to stroke my cheek with the tips of her fingers. “That was…” She pauses and takes two deep breaths. “Good. So good.”

She’s grinning, so I’m pretty sure thatgoodreally means great, but I scrunch my face anyway, feigning hurt. “Just good? Pretty sure Nate heard you all the way in his cabin.”

Ophie laughs and smacks my chest. “Talking about Nate, or anyone else, within ninety seconds of orgasm is against the rules. Now you’ve ruined my high.”

I laugh, pulling her against my chest. My stomach rumbles, but I ignore it so I can enjoy the sensation of holding my Ophie without worrying about where my hands are. “I won’t do it again, I promise, my liefling.”

“I’ve always wondered what that means.” As she wiggles, her ass presses against me.

“It means something nice.” I dodge giving her a straight answer by kissing the back of her neck and running my fingers down the outside of her thigh. She’s going to jerk away in a second when I hit her ticklish spot.

Right on cue, Ophie shrieks and flails, and I roll off the bed behind her and dart away before she can retaliate. “Where’s the dinner I was promised? You taste delicious, but I’m still hungry.”

Ophie

Maggie was right. It’sso quiet out here, my thoughts are echoing around my brain with nothing to drown them out.

I squeeze the mug in my hands as I stare out over the mist-covered vines, my warm coffee chasing off the slight early morning chill. It’s August, and even though it’s supposed to be in the nineties today, it won’t get hot until much later. Right now, the wooden porch is cold under my bare feet, and my exposed arms are covered in goose bumps.

Jackie and Greg’s cabin, the one Philip and I are staying in, is closest to the tasting room—Nate’s, then Maggie and Kel’s sitting downhill from us. Kel’s cabin is dark and silent, but a square patch of light shines on the ground from one of Nate’s windows.

I let the quiet wash over me, broken only by the sound of Philip getting ready to meet Nate for his seven a.m. tour. The eerie view and sounds of nature are a balm to my bruised feelings. Our clandestine rendezvous have been simultaneously hot as fuckand sweet as sugar, but they always leave me feeling a little more broken inside. That’s why I had to take a break from him last week—I needed a moment to nurse my breaking heart. How will I bear it when he inevitably leaves me?

Or I leave him.

I had every intention of pulling out my laptop to reread the email from Penny Zimmerman to interview for the position at her start-up in South Carolina, but I can’t risk Philip seeing it. I haven’t brought myself to say anything about it to him yet. We changed the rules of our friendship knowing there was a good chance of this happening, but now that the reality of it is here, I would do anything to put off seeing his face at the news.

I’d much rather pretend that we can live in this bubble forever.

Instead of reading the email for the hundredth time, I let the misty morning and bird calls draw me outside. I can see why Maggie likes it out here, although I imagine between her and Olive, the quiet isn’t as oppressive, broken by their constant chatter. No wonder Kel loves having her there.

Some kind of large bird calls out in the distance. When no animal calls back, it repeats a few times. It’s a lonely sound—kind of how I felt before Philip. He had no idea how anxious and alone I felt that first day of classes, before he sat beside me and immediately started teasing me.

The way I felt growing up, watching my older sisters share a bond that excluded me, is completely foreign to him. Even though it was my choice not to share in it, watching the two of them head off to dance every afternoon while I stayed home, or sat in the car doing homework while they were inside, built an invisible wall between us. A wall that only started to come down when Daisy went to college, and by then, it was hard to break the habit of loneliness.

I was so used to being alone that having other people in my life felt oppressive, even as I craved it.

I turn at the sound of the front door opening.

“Your phone is ringing.” Philip crosses the porch, stealing my mug from me. “Oh bless, that’s good.”

“There’s a whole pot inside—you could have your own mugful.” I make a face at him.

“But I like the way you make it better.” He punctuates his statement by slurping down a mouthful, dancing in place as his eyes water.

“Too hot?” I laugh as he struggles to swallow, his eyes bulging.

“Just a smidge. Here.” He pushes the mug back into my hands, then starts to walk away. “Wish me luck with old When-we.”

“When-we?”

Philip laughs, tucking his hands into his pockets before he strolls toward Nate’s cabin. “‘When we did it in France…,’ ‘when we were in charge…,’ ‘when my dad…’” He shakes his head. “It’s what we call the old Rhodies and Afrikaners. The ones who can’t let go of when they were in charge.”

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