"Write till your ink be dry, and with your tears

Moist it again, and frame some feeling line

That may discover such integrity..."

W. Shakespeare (Two Gentlemen of Verona)

Outtakes & Extras


January 27, 2014

Outward Shows - An Outtake from Daniel's Point of View

Post Chapter 15 - The Weight of Words

 

"So may the outward shows be least themselves:
The world is still deceived with ornament."

The Merchant of Venice


 

By the time I reached the pathways leading to the Vic Quad, I felt certain my heart was going to explode. A mere sixty seconds had passed since I'd said goodbye to Aubrey, and already I wanted to turn around and run back to her building.

Am I falling in love? Is that what's going on here? I wondered, bringing my hand to my chest where my heart was thumping wildly.

But then I got that familiar pain in my left shoulder blade, the one that warns me I'm about to have a bad-ass panic attack, and I realized what I'd mistaken for the innocent fluttering of heart strings were actually palpitations. I'd thought I was over this. The need for Ativan hadn't even crossed my mind since well before Christmas.

I stumbled toward the benches outside the men's residence, black blobs forming behind my eyes. I forced myself to breathe evenly, in through my nose and out through my mouth, recollecting the night two weeks ago when I'd counseled Aubrey to do this very thing while she was feeling sick at the theatre.

Aubrey.

Hopefully she'd recovered from her own meltdown. Not pulling her into my arms as she'd cried in the Jackman lobby had taken a Herculean effort, despite the small measure of comfort I’d felt, knowing she was reeling emotionally, just as I was.

By now, she was probably laughing and joking upstairs with the roomie. That prick. She'd insisted they were just roommates. "It's not like that," she'd claimed, when Penny had implied there was something going on with him. Of course, she'd said something similar about me in the same breath, and now look at us.

And what guy takes his roommate to Canoe for dinner on Valentine's Day?

I’d seen the way he'd looked at her on Friday after running home to be her savior when she was sick. How could I help doubting his intentions, even if I trusted hers?  Sweetheart, he'd called her as he'd touched her hair. God, I'd wanted to punch his lights out, and it takes a lot to inspire that kind of reaction in me. I'm far more inclined to try to mindfuck someone with rhetoric than punch them. When faced with the overwhelming urge to knock out two or three of Matty boy's pearly whites, I knew I was well and truly screwed.

 I forced myself to stop rehashing the events of that awful night. Going over everything was doing more harm than good. Focusing on the rhythm of my heart instead, I continued to breathe deeply, sitting up and rubbing at the pain in my shoulder. It seemed as if this wasn't going to be a full-blown attack after all. I was already feeling better and allowed myself to finally revel in my victory.

For weeks now I'd been trying to convince myself Aubrey must be spoken for, had to be in a relationship with someone, was far too beautiful and intelligent to be unattached. And yet today, it seemed I'd been proven wrong. She seemed, for all the world, to be entirely available.

And the icing on the cake? Aubrey wanted me, too.

Today we’d shared our feelings, all the while acknowledging the need for both discretion and delay, the only contact between us the slightest meeting of fingertips across the table. That one touch had said everything I’d wanted to tell her over the past few weeks: I can't stop thinking about you, I want to know you, I need to be with you. The hesitation and helpless inability to clasp her hand in mine had also spoken volumes:

I can't be with you. Not now. We have to wait.

This was an overwhelming reality.

And how the fuck would I hold myself together in that ten by twenty foot room every Friday without reaching out to pull her near, to kiss her, to bury my face in her long, silky hair, to touch her skin?

If only she'd dropped the class in those first few days. But no, there was no frightening her away. In fact, my attempts to intimidate her, as feeble and inconsistent as they’d been, had probably made her more determined to stick around.

About one thing I was certain—Aubrey Price was no pushover.

I leaned back on the bench and tested my vision. The black spots were clearing, the pain in my chest easing. What had just happened was a purely physiological response to my having potentially made one of the biggest mistakes of my life. Going against everything my father had said, irresponsibly flouting all good sense and logic, I'd laid bare my feelings for Aubrey. If she wanted to, she could ruin me, once and for all. One word from her, and my probationary contract, both as TA and as Ph.D candidate would be pulled in the blink of an eye.

Last year, I wasn’t the man Nicola had made me out to be.

Was I becoming him now?


 


March 13, 2015 - In honour of Sailor and Poppet's "one month anniversary"

Deleted scene from The Weight of Words - Originally included in the book's final scene

 

Aubrey

We were almost at Charles Street, when Daniel pulled over onto a narrow street off of the east side of Bay and parked. He turned in his seat to look at me.

"This has been one of the most insane days of my life," he said. "But as much as it made me want to tear my hair out at times, this has been a huge learning experience for me, Aubrey. I want to thank you for that."

A lump formed in my throat.

"Daniel, please, don't—"

He cut me off. "No, let me finish, please? I've spent way too much time in the last year thinking the world owed me breakfast in bed because I got screwed over. I let myself believe no woman could be trusted, and everyone was out to get me. That's obviously not the case, at least not where you're concerned. It's not fair of me to punish you for what Nicola did to me."

I smiled at him tenderly. "I would never betray you. You do believe that now, right?"

"I do. And I'm glad that you heard me out and gave me a chance to explain myself. I think we've reached an excellent compromise—a perfect middle ground. If you promise to let me kiss you whenever I want, I promise not to get upset when you say I've gone too far. And I'm sure it'll get easier each time." He raised an eyebrow cheekily.

"Meaning we just need to practice?"

"Exactly. What did Macbeth say? 'We are but yet young in deed', right?"

"And then he proceeded to murder a bunch of innocent people. I don't think our deeds are quite as malevolent."

"Huh, well, that depends on who you ask."

This was true. I'm sure if his father could see us right now he'd be screaming blue murder.

"You know, you're probably right. I mean, there you are, Mr. Morals, and along I come, pouring my spirits in your ear, just like Lady Macbeth. I've ruined you."

"I hope you're joking," he said, looking at me sternly.

Was I? I couldn't be sure.

"I don't know. Sometimes I really hate myself for the position I'm putting you in," I confessed.

"I'm perfectly capable of making my own decisions, Aubrey. Don't go thinking you're making me do anything I'm not fully prepared to do. If I get uncomfortable, you'll know. And, please, if you're going to compare yourself to a literary character, don't choose Lady Macbeth. Unless, of course, you plan to chastise me with the valour of your tongue," he said, raising an eyebrow suggestively.

I set aside my reservations, and picked up on his innuendo instead. "I'd say I've given you a healthy tongue lashing several times today, wouldn't you?"

"That you have, Miss Price. And I look forward to more where that came from."

He raked his teeth across his lower lip and looked down at my mouth.

“No time like the present,” I whispered, moving closer.

His mouth turned up at the corner, and he swept his hand under my hair, gently nudging my nose with his before claiming my mouth, his tongue teasing at my lower lip and then slowly sweeping against my tongue. The feel of his tongue stroking mine and the sound of his erratic breathing converged in the center of my body, stoking a hot liquid flame of desire.

When Daniel’s warm, open-mouthed kisses moved to my neck and then upwards towards my ear while his fingers teased at the hem of my dress, I briefly lost my sanity. My legs parted, seemingly without my permission, my hand grasping his wrist and tugging his fingers higher.

“God, I want you,” he moaned, his voice hoarse with desire, a desire I recognized as on par with my own.

His hand slid slowly higher, his fingers eventually reaching the top of my stocking. We both gasped and Daniel froze, which was the last thing on earth I wanted him to do. How badly I wanted him to keep going. Just a few more inches and he'd be touching me, putting an end to the desperate ache thrumming between my thighs. One slow, well-placed brush of his fingertips and I'm sure I would have instantly fallen apart.

But no. He slowly withdrew his hand, his breath hot and uneven against my ear as he struggled to restrain himself.

“I’m sorry,” he sighed, his hand retreating to the safety of my wrist.

“I’m not.”

I linked my fingers with his, smiling through my disappointment and reconciling myself to what was quite clearly going to be one of the longest sessions of foreplay known to man.

 

 



Outtake (deleted scene) from Better Deeds than Words - End of Chapter 28

Aubrey


When a voice roused me from my sleep, I thought for a minute Daniel had woken up and started watching the movie after all, but the voice wasn't coming from the TV. Daniel was curled around me, his chest pressed against my back as he mumbled in his sleep. I peered at the digital clock on the nightstand. It was two in the morning. I snuggled back into his arms.

"You're mine," he murmured. Then he breathed deeply a few times. "You're mine."

We'd slept together twice now, and both times he'd talked in his sleep. This was obviously a nocturnal habit. What was he dreaming about? I wished I could be inside his mind, if only for a moment.

Once more he uttered the same two words and then sighed contentedly.

I smiled and turned my head. "You're right, Daniel. I am yours," I whispered.

I settled onto the pillow, gently floating back into the darkness of sleep. But then Daniel made a lovely purring sound. His hips were flush against my lower back while his lips tickled my neck. Was he awake?

When his mouth moved to my shoulder, teeth tugging at the silk strap of my nightie and a very hard part of his body pressed insistently against the back of my thigh, there was no doubt in my mind—he was awake. Awake and very much recovered.

His fingertips gently explored my body, carefully lowering the straps of my nightie and drawing slow circles around my nipples as my nightgown slipped below my breasts. I clasped his hand and guided it downward, moaning as he breathed hotly in my ear.

"Shh." No more than a quiet breath, this silent command made me melt back against him, my head falling gently against his shoulder.

He slowly slid my panties down and pushed off his boxers. With his hand nestled between my legs, he ground himself hard against me. I gathered up some of the silk in my hand and reached for him. This time, his breath in my ear was a quietly whispered, "Yes," as he slowly thrust against my silk-covered palm, stroking me all the while, as intent on my pleasure as his own.

I shifted my nightie out of the way and angled my hips back, guiding him between my thighs. I held my breath as he eased inside me and began moving in long, leisurely strokes.

Neither of us spoke save for soft sighs and muted moans, both lost in the quiet, unhurried passion of our joined bodies. The subtlest changes in breathing and touch were heightened by the dark silence of the room.

I curled my hand around Daniel's to guide his motions, and when I arched my back against him with a quiet cry, I didn't know whether it was my fingers or his that had ultimately pushed me over the edge. It didn't matter. I whimpered, rocking backwards against his body, shuddering with pleasure. Daniel held my hip, and with a final deep thrust, his teeth sank gently into my shoulder. His lips remained there while he gradually regained his breathing.

"Hey," he said softly after a few quiet moments.

"Hey."

He relaxed onto his pillow and I followed.

"Beautiful." He cupped my breast and gently rubbed his thumb across my nipple.

"Mmm." I turned so I was lying on his chest, my arm draped across him.

"Go back to sleep, my lovely." He kissed my forehead. "Have sweet dreams."

"You too," I mumbled, completely relaxed and already beginning to drift off.

A few moments later I heard him say in the softest voice, "I love you so much. I still can't believe you're mine." I wasn't entirely sure whether he was awake and aware of what he was saying, or asleep and dreaming again.

Or maybe I was the one who was dreaming because everything seemed too perfect to be real.

 



 


Outtake from The Truest of Words (between chapters 9 and 10)

~Daniel's point of view


"If someone had told me three months ago that I'd be sitting at Auberge du Pommier with you tonight, celebrating our anniversary, I think I would have laughed my ass off," Aubrey said, reaching for my hand across the table.

I took her hand in mine and kissed her fingers gently, watching the color rise in her cheeks. God, it felt so good to be together, a normal couple, sharing dinner at a nice restaurant. She looked incredibly sexy, and I had to pat myself on the back for returning to Judith and Charles to get that dress. That was a fucking inspired move on my part.

"I'd have done the same, you know," I told her. "Having you in my life seemed about as likely as being hit by a meteor."

"If only we'd both known what the other person was thinking that night, we could have avoided so many misunderstandings."

"I know, but just think of the stories we'll be able to tell the grandkids."

She looked at me searchingly for a second and I realized the implications of what I'd said. I'd spoken flippantly, tossing out one of those standard lines that people in relationships say. What if she thought this whole three-month-anniversary dinner was more than I'd intended it to be? I'd merely planned a nice evening out for the two of us, a break from the insanity of the week, but what if she thought I had a ring in my pocket or something? No, surely she knew I'd never behave so hastily. I cleared my throat and reclaimed my hand as the waiter interrupted, delivering Aubrey’s dessert.

"There you are. Crème brûlée. Enjoy."

The waiter sauntered off and Aubrey picked up her spoon and surveyed the bowl in front of her.

"I can't believe you didn't order dessert," she said. "Do you want to try this?"

"No thanks. I really don't have much of a sweet tooth. I'll just take vicarious pleasure in watching you eat."

"Then I guess I'd better make sure you can see how much I'm enjoying it."

Fuck, eat it quickly! I wanted to say. We had a half hour drive ahead of us and I just wanted to be home with her now. My suit pants weren't as uncomfortable as jeans, but they were feeling more and more constricting by the minute. Throughout the meal I'd had to will myself to stop staring at her chest. Knowing the thinnest swathe of fabric lay between me and the softness of her breasts, not to mention her delicious pink nipples…

I shifted in my seat. Yep. Definitely constricting...

Aubrey saw me fidgeting and smiled knowingly, skimming some of the broiled caramel from the top of her dessert. She slid the spoon between her teeth, closing her lips slowly around the spoon and spinning it in her mouth before drawing it downwards as it emerged from between her lips. At the same time, she ran her fingernails up and down my index finger. Sweet mother of Christ.

With her second mouthful...teeth, spoon, lips, fingernails...I felt my own mouth open and close, mimicking her movements. I also began to throb painfully, the need to lean across the table and lick the glistening caramel from the corner of her mouth becoming almost impossible to fight.

I adjusted my position again. "Poppet?"

"Uh huh?" She drew her lower lip into her mouth capturing the lingering sugar crystals.

"Unless you have a burning desire to be ravished on a table in the middle of Auberge du Pommier, I really need you to eat faster."

***


We barely made it through the door of the condo before I was all but attacking her, not bothering to turn on lights, anxiously kicking off my shoes and fumbling with Aubrey's dress, desperate to have her naked as quickly as possible. I kissed her frantically, my hands roaming up her back, feeling for a snap or button at the neck of the dress. Nothing. I slid my hands around her waist. No zippers, no fasteners of any kind. I pushed her away gently, breathing heavily and looking down at the dress which had gone from insanely sexy to completely annoying in no less than sixty seconds.

"How does this fucking thing work?"

Turning around, she pulled at the two long pieces of fabric tied at the waist. "Undo these," she said.

I pulled, and the bow slid apart easily under my fingers.

"Now what?"

"Let go of one piece."

I dropped one of the long pieces of silk and she spun around twice. Then she took the other end of the tie and unwrapped it from around her waist as well, laughing as she caught the expression on my face.

"I told you it was complicated."

"No kidding."

She turned around again, lifting her hair and looking at me coquettishly over her shoulder.

"Now you have to untwine it. See how the two pieces wind around each other up my back?"


"Jesus." I squinted at the back of the dress in the dim light and got to work unwinding the twisted fabric. "You're lucky I haven't been drinking. I think I'd have hauled out the scissors by now."

She laughed again, and as I reached her neck, finally managing to draw the two pieces of the tie free of each other, she turned around and looked up at me. I watched, rapt, as she dropped the two long ribbons of silky fabric and they fell away from her body. I ran my fingertips gently from her collarbones slowly down across her breasts to her waist. She smiled at me, the innocence and vulnerability in her eyes virtually bringing me to my knees. Then she eased the skirt of the dress over her hips, letting it fall to the floor, revealing a skimpy pair of black panties. I pulled her close and ran my hands down her back, lower and lower, until I felt nothing but bare skin and a mere sliver of fabric. A black thong? What was I saying about innocence and vulnerability?

Fuck. Me.

"It's a damn good thing I didn't know you were wearing this under your dress, or we wouldn't have made it past the appetizers," I said, ghosting my fingers up and down her back and then cupping her luscious ass.

I hooked my fingers into the string masquerading as underwear and tugged it down her legs. She stepped aside, kicking her clothes away, and then she slid her hands inside my jacket and pressed her bare skin against me. There was something impossibly erotic about feeling her naked body in my arms when I was still fully dressed.

"Do you want me to leave my shoes on?" she asked, slipping the top button of my shirt open and kissing my neck softly.

"Under normal circumstances I'd say fuck, yes, but I'm going to say no, tonight."

"Oh, really? Why's that?"

"Because you might scratch the furniture, that's why."

She looked at me curiously and I picked her up in my arms and carried her to the table where I sat her on the edge. Slipping her shoes off, I tossed them on the floor and then I took off my suit jacket and hung it on the back of the chair before stepping between her parted legs and running my hands up her soft thighs.

"I wasn't kidding before when I said I was going to have you for dessert, you know. I think I'll enjoy you right here, at the dining room table."

Her breath caught and she pulled my face down to hers, offering me her lips. Her tongue, as always, made my head spin as it swept silkily across mine. She pulled away and looked at me, a mysterious smile on her face.

I ran my thumb across her lower lip. "What’s that smile about?"

"I don't know," she whispered. "When I think dessert, I think, ice-cream, cake, whipped cream..."

"Well, as I said, I don't exactly have a sweet tooth, but I do believe a whipped cream topping could be arranged."

"Oh yeah?" Her eyebrow lifted challengingly.

"Hold that thought." I gently patted her thighs. "And don't move..."

In the kitchen, I scanned the refrigerator. There, on the top shelf. Reddi-wip. Frigging disgusting stuff, but if she was game, then so was I.

"Oh my..." She laughed as I returned to the table, shaking the can lewdly in front of me.

"You ready?"

I stood between her thighs and smiled down at her. She was still giggling. Fuck, she was cute as hell when she was tipsy.

"I'm so ready."

"You are?"

"Uh huh."

"Ready, ready?"

"Definitely."

"I've barely even touched you yet, Aubrey."

She shook her head. "Doesn't matter."

"Should I get an umbrella?" I smiled as I thought of all of our wet weather jokes.

"I'd recommend hip waders."

"Really?" I laughed. "This is sounding better by the minute. You’d better make yourself comfortable."

She reclined on the table, propping herself up on her elbows to watch the proceedings, still smiling eagerly. I took a moment to roll my sleeves up, drawing out the anticipation, then I reclaimed the can and pretended to be fascinated by the instructions on the side.

"Do you think I should get a spoon?" I asked, feigning seriousness as I shook the can again.

She bit her lip and tilted her head to the side. "More fun if you use your fingers, don't you think...?"

"Well, I definitely know you'd like that, right?"

She nodded her agreement, and I considered encouraging her to tell me more about what she wanted me to do. Every time we made love, I anticipated the thrill of hearing her say what I could do to please her. Sometimes she would speak, but other times she would simply guide my hands, seemingly unable to articulate her desires. Though I always longed to urge her to talk to me, the thought of making her uncomfortable or self-conscious made me rein myself in every time.

Instead of pushing her and spoiling the mood, I sat down on the dining room chair, surveying the glorious sight before me. She looked lovely, the bright city lights streaming through the windows into the room and casting angled shadows across her body. I ran my hand up her leg and sprayed some of the frothy cream along her inner thigh. She flinched and gasped.

"Fuck that's cold!"

I held her still and leaned over, licking my way up her leg, following the trail of whipped cream until I reached the top of her thigh and then stopping. She whimpered. I put the can on the table, wiping my lips as I swallowed, then proceeded to kiss my way up her body, spending a little extra time teasing at her nipples and enjoying the feel of her fingers in my hair as she held me in place. When her breathing became shallow, and her quiet moans started to sound more desperate, I nuzzled into her neck so that I could whisper in her ear.

"I have to tell you, the whipped cream's not gonna cut it. I prefer my pussy the way I take my scotch. Neat."

"Holy fuck, Daniel..."

Her head dropped back and I gathered up her hair, licking my way back down her neck, sucking her delicate skin as I moved. I lavished her with kisses, caressing her breasts, feeling her  body rising to meet my fingers, my lips, my tongue. She sighed, "Please, Daniel," and my heart quickened, desire raging through my own body.

"Lie back, Aubrey. I'd like to finish what I started. I mean it, though. No whipped cream...I just want to taste you..."

I sat, pulling my chair close to the table and pushing her legs apart so that I could kiss my way slowly up one of her thighs. She breathed deeply as I moved to her other leg, showering her with soft, wet whispers, just a hint of tongue to tantalize her along the way.

As I moved higher, her arms slid out to the side, until she was lying flat on the table. I blew gently, and she made a low purring sound. I could already anticipate how she would respond to my caresses. Her body was like a beloved instrument, one that I already knew so well, one that I could turn to and know that the music I made would be perfect.

A gentle darting flick of my tongue elicited the sharp intake of breath that told me, yes, right there. Several long, slow, deep licks and she parted her legs even wider, bringing her hips upward to meet my mouth. Then my favourite...sliding two fingers inside her while I focussed my tongue on that most magical spot, and her heels were digging into my back, her thighs clenching, and her hands were in my hair, tugging frantically as she pleaded with me not to stop. Stop? Was she fucking crazy? I wasn't about to stop. I didn't ever want to stop.

I feasted on her, humming my own pleasure against her skin, listening for those quick, telltale gasps, the ones that said, so close...so very close. And when I was finally rewarded with that sound, I gazed up at her face. Yes, the most beautiful of moments, her head falling to the side, eyes closed, mouth open, and then my name, over and over again, as she clenched around my fingers and throbbed against my tongue.

Watching Aubrey's orgasm—seeing her swept away in the ecstasy of physical pleasure—it was a beautiful sight to behold. Afterwards, her fingers were in my hair, tugging harder, trying to pull me away, but as always, I was greedy and wouldn't stop until another shuddering spasm washed through her, leaving her whimpering and panting, her chest rising and falling rapidly.

Dropping a gentle kiss on her delicious velvet skin, I stood and unbuttoned my shirt. She looked at me, her emerald eyes languid and satiated and then she sat up, taking my face in her hands and kissing me slowly. Her teeth tugged on my lower lip as she reached down and rubbed me through my pants until I ached with the need to be inside her.

"Did you enjoy your dessert as much as I did?" she asked smiling at me wickedly as she unclasped my belt.

"Absolutely delectable. Beats crème brûlée any day."

I rested my hands on her thighs and watched her unbutton my pants and slowly ease my zipper down, the anticipation all but killing me.

"Lack of cutlery didn't interfere with your enjoyment...?"

"Not at all." I kissed her again as she pushed my pants to the floor and started easing my boxers down my hips. "A spoon would have been totally redundant," I murmured, smiling against her lips. I placed my hand on her back, slowly reclining her onto the table again, and drawing her leg up and around my waist. "Although a few napkins might have been a good idea. Can you remind me to bring napkins to the table next time? I haven't got a fucking clue what I've done with my hip waders..."