by Vesper Young
“I am,” I moaned.
He dipped the finger in deeper, then pulled it out and pressed it to his mouth. He closed his eyes, savoring my taste. I clenched, nearly coming from the sight.
“I love the way you taste,” he rasped.
I pulled him closer, and he allowed it.
“Please,” I begged.
He moved in, hands pinning my hips and opened his mouth. He connected. One single flick of his tongue and my legs began to shake. Lucas moved deeper, slow, methodical teasing forgotten like he couldn’t help himself. His tongue explored and savored and tasted and I held onto him like it was the only thing that would stop me from collapsing.
The pleasure built and built. If I’d been needy before, now I was wanton. I didn’t care who heard my whimpers, I just needed to get over the ledge that Lucas was steadily driving me towards. I voiced my desire over and over, pleading, begging, aching. The pressure continued to build. Lucas was a master at making my body do whatever he wanted, and it was clear he wanted me to come.
I cried out. Bliss hit every corner of my body. Lucas’s low, guttural sounds echoed, carrying me over. My mind was fuzzy yet aware of his continued movements, the way he drew out my pleasure and made my body sing.
I stared down at him. He looked up at me, a masculine satisfaction so clearly mixed with his own pressure begging for release. The urge to please hit me like an arrow. I pushed him away, then knelt so we were eye to eye.
“Your turn,” I promised, unbuckling with no small amount of desperation.
He allowed me, his hands returning to my body, sliding under my bra and grabbing my breasts so hard I gasped.
“Later. I need to be inside you now.”
I leaned over, ignoring him so I could feel his stiff length. Stroking slowly, tentatively, then faster, drawing out a drop of precum from the tip.
“Don’t torture me, Kara.”
“Turnabout’s fair play.” I meant it as a tease, but desire clogged my throat.
I continued to move along him, easing closer with my body while I pumped him faster. I arched and slowly teased his length with my own wanting part.
“Condom. Now,” he bit out. He dug into his pocket.
I’d have teased him for the optimism it took to carry a condom in his pockets, especially since we hadn’t gone half this far in weeks, but relief overwhelmed me. I didn’t want to stop touching him. I wanted to be closer. He passed the plastic over and I rolled it on, his heat branding me through the thin layer.
He tried to ease in, but desperation took over and I met him fully. We rolled over, me on my back, his arms above me as he thrust. Neither of lasted long, too far gone with our desire. He came with a grunt, and I followed him over the edge. It was different than before. We wanted each other and needed each other, and above all, we completed each other. I never felt like I’d needed a man, but when we were together, it was clear I’d only lived half a life. The colors more vivid, the sounds clearer, the sensations… unmistakable.
He cradled me in his arms, our bodies fitting together like two puzzle pieces. Time didn’t matter in that moment. It was perfect. Peaceful. His chest expanded and contracted with even breathes and I felt each one press against me.
“We can’t lay here all night. We’re both going to have the worst kinks in the morning.” I poked his side.
He grinned contently. “I thought you liked kinks, doing it in your boss’s office after hours and all.”
“First of all, you’re my boss, so it’s not that kinky.” Though it had been a line in the sand for so long to me and tonight I’d crossed it. “And secondly, I want to lay in bed and wake up with you without my body demanding a solid gram of Tylenol. This romantic sleeping on the floor shit is for kids who have to sneak around parents. I have on good authority we both are adults owning beds.”
He chuckled. “Alright, let’s head out. One mattress coming up.”
We eased off the floor, Lucas offering his arm to help me up like a gentleman. I gave his bicep a squeeze because he was my boyfriend and those were totally girlfriend perks. We bundled up, retrieving our coats from the rack and headed out.
Lucas offered to drive, but I insisted on walking. I wanted to experience the city with him. The city may never sleep, but it was quiet in the hours after the bars shut down. It was a fairly safe area, though I wouldn’t have dreamed of walking around alone. Not when I was responsible for someone else. But I was safe with Lucas. He would protect me, if I let him. After so many years without, that comfort was intoxicating.
We walked hand in hand towards my apartment, since it was closer. We pointed out window displays we liked and talked about nothing.
It was the best night I’d ever had.
I opened the apartment door, Lucas not hesitating to come in after. It was like we were a couple coming home after a long evening. It felt right.
We entered the bedroom. I intended to undress and take a shower, and despite my mild protests, Lucas joined me. It wasn’t long before the protests turned to pleading and we were back in the bedroom, making love to the sounds of the city below.
It was a different night than I’d expected.
I loved it.
18. Kara
I stretched out under the covers, curling my toes in pleasure as I slowly woke up. Last night had been wow, in a big, giant W-O-W way. It hadn’t been the fevered sex we’d had weeks and years ago. After we’d gotten to the apartment, something changed. Every movement was different, every look a little more intense. Last night had been entirely separate from anything before. More sensual, selfless and utterly intimate.
What Lucas and I had before was always intense. The tenderness from his every touch had been in complete contrast to the rushed contact, as if we had to race through every moment we touched like it would be our last. Last night hadn’t felt like the last anything. It felt like a start.
I stayed in bed another moment, savoring the warmth. Lucas was absent. His side of the bed was cold. Probably showering or making coffee. I took a moment to collect my thoughts after the mind-scrambling night we’d shared.
I stared up at the ceiling. I’ll tell him today, I decided. This morning. Enough procrastinating. There’d never be a perfect moment for this conversation, but I had faith. He had seen all of me, ten years ago and now. I not only owed him honesty, but I wanted to share it with him. I’d tell him and we’d figure it out because we made a good team, dammit.
I got out of bed, dressing haphazardly in sweatpants and T-shirt. When I left the bedroom, no smell of coffee greeted me. No shower running could be heard either. I looked around, poking my head in the bathroom to be sure. No Lucas. The apartment wasn’t large, but I kept looking. How could he not be here? Especially after last night. His words and promises rang in my ears. Lucas wasn’t the type to leave just like that, especially not now. I searched for a note and passed by Ryan’s door.
Ryan’s open door.
Ryan’s door that had definitely been shut after he’d left for his weekend trip.
Oh, no.
I ran back to my bedroom and grabbed the essentials: phone, keys, wallet. In a moment I was out the door, rushing down the hall while I slipped my coat on, putting my shoes on in the elevator. I ran out of the building, looking side to side until I saw an approaching taxi I could hail. I was half-hysterical, but New York cabbies have seen enough crazy people not to care so long as you paid.
I gave him Lucas's address and off we went. Panic had increasingly welled inside me. What had he thought? Did he put the pieces together? Would he even see me?
He had to. I had to explain, even though I had no idea what I would say. It hit me in crystal-clear clarity that there really was no good, easy answer.
He had left.
He had left me.
I gave the cabbie a twenty, not bothering to wait for change, and rushed in. I’d been there only twice before, once with Lucas, when we’d made a mad dash up to his room before we got accused of public indecency. I
hadn’t exactly paid much attention to where he’d lived at that time. The other time he’d shown me up himself and I hadn’t bothered to catch the apartment number.
I stalled in the doorway, trying to orient myself while the concierge spoke to me.
“Can I help you, miss?” she asked.
I rushed over to the desk. “I need to see someone.”
She gave me a wary once-over, taking in my disheveled appearance. “Apartment number?”
I sucked in a breath. I didn’t know what room he was in. “I don’t know, but it’s Lucas Northman.”
The concierge didn’t move, clearly reluctant to help a crazy lady call up to a tenant of this luxurious building.
“He’s new. I need to speak to him,” I told her.
Another long look. Then she reached for a phone and held it to her ear while punching some numbers in, her eyes never leaving me. A cautious gaze tracked every bit of fidgeting I did.
“Mr. Northman? Someone is here to see you. A Ms…”
“Iver.” I tried not to tap my foot in impatience. Or anxiety.
“A Ms. Iver. Should I send her up?”
I couldn’t hear his voice on the phone. There was a long pause, and the concierge lost some of her gusto as she glanced nervously from me to the phone. After an eternity, she hung up.
“Apartment 617,” she told me. “Take the elevator on your left,” she instructed with a gesture down the hall.
A minute later I was on the fourth floor, scanning for apartment 617. I knocked frantically and then suddenly the door was open and I was facing Lucas.
His face was like stone. In all my time with Lucas, he’d never looked like that. Closed off, completely. When just a few hours ago I’d thought I’d seen a future reflected in his expression.
“Can I come in?” My voice was barely more than a whisper. I’d felt like I was on the verge of yelling downstairs, but now I could barely make a sound.
Lucas stepped out of the doorway, silently allowing me to enter and then closing the door shut behind us. I looked at him. His hair was messy, practically standing on end. A shadow across his jawline showed he hadn’t shaved. For Lucas, who was so often immaculate, this was far from the usual.
Since I’d last been here he’d picked up a few stray pieces of furniture. Now, he sat in the lonely chair that made up his living room set.
“I assume you came here to explain. So explain,” he said.
I stood in front of him, mute. How could I put it into words?
“Explain,” he said again. The word was more forceful. It wasn’t angry, instead filled with intense, unspeakable emotion.
When I didn’t say anything again, he stood, launching himself up from the chair as if he couldn’t stand to be still.
“I knew you were holding back. I said it was fine. I said we’d go slow. If you have a kid, fine. I didn’t expect you to be fucking celibate. Shit happens. And if you didn’t want me to meet them yet, fine, I get it. But how could you not tell me?”
I flinched from his words. How could I not? How could I at all?
“I go looking for a towel this morning,” he explained, pacing back and forth across the room. “I need a towel and I figure you don’t want me using those decorative ones so I go and try to find a closet. And then I see a child’s room instead. What am I supposed to do with that? You’ve been holding back, and I was willing to deal, but this was too much.” He stopped pacing and faced me.
Guilty, I looked away. Then I forced myself to look back at Lucas because he was right. I had been keeping too much from him and I had to explain.
“I do have a son. His name is Ryan. He’s eight and he loves dinosaurs and he’s wonderful”—and these were the hardest words I’d ever had to say—“and he’s your son.”
19. Lucas
Shock hit me, immediately followed by denial. I had to have misheard her.
“What?”
“He’s your son,” Kara repeated.
A son. I had a son. “You’re sure?”
She gave a small nod, barely perceptible but irrefutable.
“If you knew, why didn’t you tell me?”
She looked at me, eyes bright as if brimming with tears. Even now, when my emotions were chaotic, I wanted to go across the room and comfort her. I forced myself to stay put and hear her answer.
“I don’t know. When I first found out, I was scared. You’d been gone a few months and had probably just finally settled in.”
“If I’d known, I would’ve left everything.” How could she not have believed that?
She nodded again. “I know you would have. You would’ve come running, but Lucas, you had a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity and I couldn’t be selfish and take that from you. I’d already forced myself to let you go once and, I don’t know, somehow it would’ve been a betrayal to take that away from you once you were free to go and follow your dreams.”
I didn’t know what to say to that. Maybe she had had her reasons. “And now? I’ve been here for months and you didn’t say a word. Don’t you trust me at all?” I asked, unable to hide the anguish from my tone.
“I was going to tell you this morning. I know it sounds empty now, but I was. And I’d already come so close a thousand times, but…” She trailed off.
“But you didn’t believe in me,” I said. My voice was cold. “Where is he—Ryan?”
“He’s away on a school trip this weekend,” she said. “He’ll be back Monday.”
I stared at her for a moment. She seemed on the verge of tears. I had so many questions and I didn’t even know which ones I was supposed to ask. Somehow it hadn’t occurred to me the bedroom could belong to a child of mine. I’d thought of a hundred possible explanations, and that hadn’t even crossed my mind.
“I need you to leave,” I said. “I need to think.”
She didn’t fight me, just gave an understanding lurch of her head. She showed herself out, calling to me softly from the door.
“I’m sorry, Lucas. I should’ve told you.”
When she was gone and my apartment was silent again I stood frozen. I wiped a hand across my face, trying to make sense of what she’d just told me.
Suddenly the four walls were too small. I went to my bedroom and tossed clothes from my dresser until I found a long-sleeved shirt and sweatpants. Once I sensed she was gone, I went out to the street. The concrete under my feet launched me forward as I found my stride.
Cold air brushed past me, cooling my head and numbing my thoughts.
People were all bundled up since it was the end of December. I barely felt the cold after the first couple of miles.
I hadn’t bothered to turn any GPS on. I just ran and ran until my legs got tired. Then I kept going after that. I turned the morning’s events over in my head, trying to fill in all the missing pieces.
I’d woken up early, happier than I’d been in ages. It was like everything had finally clicked into place after weeks of being taunted by the possibility of finally having the girl I loved back in my arms. I’d gone looking for a towel and now suddenly the girl I loved was the mother of a child I hadn’t known about.
Ryan. I repeated his name with every thud on the pavement. Had he grown up asking about his father? Had Kara told him anything? Did she lie and say I was dead? Or a superhero? Or a deadbeat who couldn’t be bothered to come home? Or had she refused to talk about it?
None of that sounded like her. Normally she was straightforward and honest to a point of fault, but in this, I’d never had a clue.
I eventually made my way back to my apartment, wiped-out after a couple hours in the cold. It felt good. Sometimes I needed to exhaust my body to make all the thoughts racing through my head stop. Finding out I had a son certainly contributed to that.
I washed up and passed out, waking in time to open the bar. I contemplated staying in bed, but I had something to do. Ethan had been good enough to inform me Kara was taking his shift tonight. Apparently now I knew why she’d almost always had to
leave by three and kept weekends off-limits: she had a child at home to watch. How many other clues had I missed?
I went to the Rattler with a single goal. One sentence to say.
I walked up to the counter, moving through the throng of people gathered to watch some hockey game at the bar. Kara was putting some cash in the register when I came up. When she saw me, she was hesitant, glancing around as if I might be looking to talk to someone else.
When she saw I obviously wasn’t, she came over.
“Hey,” she said.
“I want to meet him.”
Then I walked away. I stayed in my office until it was time to lock up. For the first time in two weeks, Kara didn’t wait up.
20. Kara
Christmas was just me and Ryan. Thanksgiving was spent with Mindy or Mrs. Shubert. For Christmas Eve, we went upstate to see my parents and ate a nice dinner on orderly plates. That was the same tradition we kept for Easter and the Fourth of July. But Christmas day, it had always been just me and him. The first year I hadn’t been welcome back home for the holidays, and ever since, it was just us. I cultivated a chaotic, festive vibe, with garland on every surface, ornaments hanging on the tree and off, and enough tinsel that I knew I’d be regretting that decision in June. Christmas carols blasting all day ensured holiday cheer would permeate every second of the day, and hopefully drown out my own less-cheerful thoughts.
Ryan spent the first hours of Christmas morning digging for his hidden presents. Couch cushions moved with great effort, cabinets tossed open with abandon. “Santa” had deemed Ryan a particularly good boy and I’d managed to swing the latest video game system among other toys. When Ryan tore off the paper and saw it, his face lit up, glancing at me to check it really was for him. There was nothing as satisfying as making my son smile. Sure, material goods weren’t the end-all be-all, but he was a kid and toys made him happy. He wasted no time opening the box and spent the next hour playing before continuing his search.
