Dutch and Gina: The Power of Love (19 page)

Jade looked at him sidelong.
 
“Hook up? What are you saying?
 
My mother wants to speak with my father, and of course I’m happy that he’s agreed to do so.
 
But I don’t see how that has anything to do with Gina.”

“So she’s invited to this get-together also?”

“No, she’s not invited,” Jade said as if it was obvious.
 
“This get together, as you call it, is between my mother and my father.
 
She has nothing to do with it.”

“That mother of yours didn’t even come to our wedding.”

Jade hesitated.
 
“What?”

“Your mother.
 
She didn’t even come to our wedding.”

“She couldn’t get away from the bookstore.
 
I told you that.”

But Christian wasn’t buying it.
 
“Sounded then and it sounds now like a lame excuse.”

“If you knew my mother, you would understand she meant no harm.
 
She never does.
 
She’s just the way she is.
 
I mean, how many people you know would give up a lucrative medical practice to open a bookstore?”

Christian smiled.
 
“You have a point there,” he said.

Jade laughed.
 
“So don’t even try it about that wedding of ours.
 
The point is, we’re married.
 
Right?”

Christian looked at her.
 
This was the Jade he loved.
 
Smart, practical, fun.
 
“Right,” he said, and kissed her just above Little Walt’s beaming head.

He stretched out naked in bed, flat on his back, as her tongue touched the sensitive tip of his engorged penis.
 
He closed his eyes and moaned as she licked it there, in just the right spot, with just the right gentle slurps.
 
And as she moved down, licking and sucking and now biting him in mock bites, he felt a sensation that could only be described as calming.
 
She knew how to calm him.
 
She knew how to relax him.
 
She knew how to take him away from the world of care into her world, her place of refuge, where something as simple as her tongue, as her mouth, could make him feel so alive.

And when she moved back up the length of his rod and took it in her mouth in full, as deep down as she could bear it, his legs began to shuffle around as the feelings of ecstasy rumbled throughout his body.
 
His breathing became laborious as he felt her breasts rubbing against his thighs, her mouth moving up and down in a simulation of intercourse that made him open his mouth in a guttural groan.
 

“Oh, G, I can’t, I can’t,” he began saying when the simulation was becoming reality.
 
He grabbed her by the waist, pulled her up the length of him, and slid into her with an urgency that bordered on panic.
 

He began fucking her, in steadily increasing gyrations that became a rhythm in and of itself.
 
And as his mouth found her breasts, and he sucked as he fucked her, Gina, too, felt the sensations intensify to the kind of heights only Dutch could take her to.
 
She was supposed to be pleasuring him.
 
She was supposed to be giving him what she felt he needed after that trauma he had to endure in San Francisco.
 
But he was taking over, and he wasn’t being coy about it, either. He was banging the shit out of her.
 
His body was so full of a need to release inside of her that he was rushing the moment.
 
And she welcomed the rush.
 

He turned her over and lay on top of her, as his mouth found her mouth and they kissed and made love the way they were accustomed: long and hard.
 
His penis kept sliding deeper and deeper with every push in. The walls of her vagina kept constricting tighter every time he slid against them.
 
And he slid in and almost out, over and over, and it felt so invigorating to them both that the slushing sound of saturation, mixed with their moans and groans, filled their bedroom with a music as vibrant as a symphony orchestra.
  
And they were in sync.
 
Man and wife.
 
Their arms wrapped tightly around the naked body of the other as if they would collapse, they would simply fall to pieces if they were to even consider letting go.

For nearly forty minutes Dutch thrust into Gina.
 
Sweat began to pour from him as if he had been drenched in rain, but he couldn’t stop thrusting.
 
Gina was breathing heavily too, as the feelings never ebbed but continued to accelerate every time his penis scraped against her walls and plowed, at just the right angle, into her g-spot.
 

She never dreamed a man could take her on this kind of high every time he fucked her, but that was exactly what Dutch Harber was able to do.
 
He elevated her every time he entered her.
 
He made her feel more womanly, more feminine, more
his
every time he thrust his hips against her and willed that thick rod of masculinity into making his mark deep inside of her.
 
Because he was searing her with his mark.
 
He was branding her.
 
With every thrust, with every pound, with every loving slid in and almost out, in and almost out, he was making it crystal clear that she was his, and his alone.

And just when they thought it couldn’t possibly get any more intense, it did.
 
He released inside of her with such a burst of sensations that she and he both clung onto each other as their bodies celebrated the full push in, and then the exhausted push out.

They collapsed.
 
Their bodies so relaxed now, so spent, that all Dutch could do was to roll onto his back, and pull his wife against him.

Later, after they had laid there silently for nearly ten minutes, Gina, who was still in his arms, looked up at him.
 
And smiled.

“You were magnificent,” she said.

Dutch smiled.
 
Pulled her closer.
 
“Thank-you,” he said.
 

“Compliment well deserved.”

“Not for that.
 
Not for your compliment.
 
But for your understanding.
 
For getting me in this bed instead of in that Oval Office to face all of that
what happened
bullshit I’ve got to face.”

Gina stared at him, her big, brown eyes narrowing in that sincere look of hers.
 
“What did happen, Dutch?” she asked him.

Dutch exhaled.
 
“What have you heard?”

“That Liz came to your fundraiser drunk and that Allison was trying to get rid of her, but you wouldn’t let her.
 
I heard that you insisted they take her up to your hotel room.”

“That’s correct.”

“Why?”

“What do you mean why?
 
Because she was drunk.
 
Because she used to be a very close friend of mine.
 
Because I couldn’t. . . Because I knew the person she could be.”

“So she went up to your hotel room and presumably was there when you arrived later that night.”

“Yes.”

Gina braced herself.
 
“And you sobered her up and sent her on her way?”

Dutch paused.
 
“No,” he said.
 
“She was already sober by the time I got there, and we talked.”

“About what?”

“Her and the decisions she’s made.
 
She just wanted to talk.”

“What aren’t you telling me, Dutch?
 
What happened in that room?
 
How did she end up in your bed?”

There was a long pause that nearly undid Gina.
 
“We talked and while we were talking she began to get emotional.
 
She broke down in tears.
 
I held her while she cried.”
 
A hesitation.
 
“And then she went to the bathroom to freshen up.
 
At least that was what I think she planned to do.
 
So I freshened up my drink while I waited.
 
I was exhausted, and ready to get to bed, but I figured she would be on her way in a few minutes anyway.
 
So I waited.
 
That was when I heard more crying.
 
I headed for the bathroom to make sure she was okay.
 
But she wasn’t in the bathroom.
 
She was lying across my bed, sobbing.
 
I went to her.
 
She kept insisting her life was over, that she did it wrong and she just kept going on about how messed up her life was.
 
So I . . .”

Gina’s heart was pounding.
 
“So you what?” she asked him.

Silence.

“What, Dutch?” she asked again.

He pinched the bridge of his nose.
 
“So I comforted her, Gina,” he said.

NINE

Gina stared at him.
 
This was Dutch.
 
This was the man who had just fucked her brains out. No way did comfort mean what it normally meant.
 
No way.
 

“So you comforted her?” She repeated what he had just said.
 
She was still in his arms.
 
Still wet from his penetration.
 
“What does that mean exactly?” she asked him.

“I held her.”

“You held her while she cried in your bed?”

Dutch exhaled.
 
“Yes,” he said.
 
“She was in pain, and I held her.”

“Even though she had tried to come onto you when we were in Brussels and you knew how she could be?”

Dutch swallowed hard.
 
“Even with that, yes.”

Gina turned away from him, on her back.
 
“And?” she asked.

“And I comforted her.
 
Her pain was genuine.
 
Could she be an ass when she wanted to be, yes, she could.
 
So could I before you made a man out of me.”
 

Gina knew he meant it as a joke, but she didn’t smile.
 
She couldn’t.
 

Dutch turned serious again.
 
“I held her.
 
I know it was inappropriate, but she wasn’t beyond redemption, Gina.
 
I’ll never believe that.”
 
He then looked at his wife.
 
“Go on, let me have it.
 
I can take it.”

“I don’t like the fact that my husband had some crying woman in his bed, especially a woman like Liz, no I don’t.
 
Let’s just keep it real.”
 
She frowned, just thinking about it.
 
“You didn’t make love to her,” she said as if it were a fact.