by Leddy Harper
When questioned what I could’ve possibly needed in the middle of the night, he could only come up with “something to drink.” As if my legs were broken and I couldn’t get out of bed by myself. But I didn’t complain, mostly because I loved his bed. Well, if I were completely honest, I had a list of other things I loved about sleeping next to Holden, but I ignored those, knowing if I gave them much credence, I would only end up with a bigger broken heart when he signed the divorce papers.
By Saturday, I finally deemed myself human again, but Holden still refused to let me resume my regularly scheduled activities. “The reason most people relapse after being sick is because they feel better, so they jump back in, not recognizing their bodies haven’t fully recovered. There’s a big difference between feeling better and returning to normal.”
“Not in my book, there’s not,” I argued while he slipped on his shoes. I’d woken up and found his side empty—something I needed to stop saying before I actually believed I had a side. When I went out to the living room to look for him, I found him on the couch, dressed in workout clothes. “I was actually feeling better yesterday and decided to take one more day to rest. Which means today, I’m back to normal.”
“Okay…wanna go for a jog with me?”
I scrunched my nose and curled my lip in disgust. “No. I think I’ll pass.”
“Good then. You stay here, watch TV or do whatever, and when I get back, we’ll spend the day on the couch watching all the comic movies—in any order you want. Sound good? A lazy day without being stuck in bed?”
Holden left for his run, and when he returned, we did exactly as he suggested. We took a break to make dinner—both of us. Together. He grabbed things from the fridge and pantry and basically made up something with the ingredients we had. I chopped, he sautéed—or whatever he did on the stove to cook our dinner. We moved around each other fluently and stood within breathing distance of one another while sharing tasks. We ate together, like we did every night, but for some reason, this time just felt easier. Natural. Like we had been doing this together all our lives. And when we were done, we headed back to the couch to finish our movie marathon.
However, it was anything but a lazy day for me. I couldn’t stop thinking about the way it felt to have his arms wrapped around me, my spine pressed along his chest. I missed his smell, his firm touch and large hands exploring my flesh, his words reverberating through his body. I wanted it again. More of it. All of it.
But I couldn’t.
I needed to sleep in my own bed. Alone. I needed to wake up the next morning without the urge to touch him, or for him to touch me. So after one of the Iron Man movies ended, we turned off the TV and made our way off the couch. It was a bit awkward while we silently had an entire conversation about sleeping arrangements. And I didn’t miss the slight droop in his posture when I slowly shuffled my feet toward the hallway that led to my bedroom, away from his. But he didn’t question or fight it, so I resigned myself to believing the slouch in his shoulders meant nothing more than he was tired, or maybe he had a kink in his neck from sitting around all day.
We said goodnight and went in opposite directions.
Although, as I lay all alone in bed, sleep refused to come. I stared at the dark ceiling, ignoring how late it was and trying to forget how long I’d been in bed. But I couldn’t close my eyes and relax. I’d had enough of that over this past week to last me a few years, but even if I hadn’t, my subconscious refused to shut down. I couldn’t stop replaying Holden’s “fairy tale” in my mind, the one that had taken him days to tell me. Every night, he would narrate a little bit more until I fell asleep, listening to his voice rumble through his chest. Even though I couldn’t remember that fateful Vegas night, there were so many things that sounded familiar as he recalled them.
And then I laughed at myself.
It wasn’t like I had amnesia and there was a slim chance my memory would return. I had been black-out drunk. Far too intoxicated to trust anything resembling a memory. Yet, that didn’t stop the overwhelming feeling of déjà vu when I imagined the scenes in my head as he revealed the story.
Refusing to obsess over it anymore, I rolled onto my side and closed my eyes. I fell into a light sleep and dreamed of water. Rather than vivid visuals dancing behind my closed eyelids, I heard sounds. Laughter, car horns, traffic, people passing. Then came the peacefulness of splashing, even though I couldn’t see it. Nothing made sense, especially the bright lights flickering. Some were blurry, others more like streaks of color. Then there was warmth. At first it was at my back, over my shoulder, and then it moved to my front. My face heated with it. My pulse accelerated and my chest tightened, yet my knees weakened. Amongst all the other noises, one became clear. Closer almost.
Deep and penetrating.
So close to my ear.
“I want to kiss you so bad right now.”
My heart beat faster, harder, more intense, while my knees buckled and my breathing hitched. I didn’t move my mouth, but that didn’t stop the words from coming out, in my voice, off my tongue. “Then do it.” So breathless and filled with desperation.
My lips tingled, and I felt so light I was convinced I floated away. But then his voice shook, and the heat lingered closer to my mouth. He said something, but I couldn’t hear it. A burst of air brushed against my lips as the words escaped him, but for the life of me, I had no idea what it was. Then he spoke again, saying, “Tell me you feel this, too. Tell me I’m not the only one who’s felt what’s between us the last few months.”
“I feel it.”
And then I did feel it. His mouth on mine, his lips leading the way. His tongue finding mine. Then our hands, roaming and touching and sensing. Our breaths combining, mingling into heated pants of air between us. A need, so large, so deep, so overwhelming came over me—and more than likely him, too.
Whoever he was.
But I knew who he was.
Even without seeing his face, I recognized him. As if his name had forever been carved deep into my soul, never to be erased. He was in me. All around me. In each heartbeat, every breath. Every waking moment. He had always been there. Always would be. Part of me.
I knew who he was.
And as I blinked my eyes open, breathing frantically into the dark, empty, quiet room, I knew who he was. Even though I couldn’t recall that night, and the memory was fuzzy and unclear and disjointed, I knew it was real. It wasn’t simply a dream. It was my subconscious telling me something.
Something I couldn’t ignore.
So I didn’t. I tossed the covers off my overheated body—only this time, it wasn’t from fever—and sat on the edge of my bed, desperately trying to catch my breath before pulling myself to my feet. I needed strength if I wanted to make it to the other side of the house. And with one last full intake of air to completely expand my lungs, I left my room.
I headed down the hall, past the living room to his.
I turned the knob on his door.
Opened it.
And brazenly walked in.
I only meant to crawl in bed with him and sleep, like we had done all week. I did everything in my power to not disturb him, to not wake him, staying as still as possible. But as soon as I rested my head on the empty pillow, he rolled toward me until we faced each other. Half asleep, he put his arm around me and pulled me flush against him, the heat of his bare chest surrounding me.
“What are you doing, Janelle?” His slumber-filled voice rumbled in my ear.
“I couldn’t sleep. Your bed is nicer.”
“Does this mean you want to swap beds?”
I smiled against him, my head tucked beneath his chin. “Your room is nicer, too. The sun doesn’t beat through the windows first thing in the morning. And I’m pretty sure the air hits here first before the back of the house.”
“So…are you suggesting we swap rooms?”
“It might just be easier if we share. Ya know? Less hassle.”
His body shook with sile
nt mirth. “Roomies sharing a room. Sounds messy.”
“Ah, Holden. What are you so scared about? We’ll be fine.”
“Yeah, we will,” was the last thing he said before we both succumbed to sleep, as if our bodies refused to surrender until we were back in each other’s arms.
I’d slept so well it felt like I only blinked.
Careful movement woke me up, and when my sight adjusted to the soft morning light filtering in through the blinds, I was able to focus on the set of dark-green eyes in front of me. I reached up, ran my fingertips over the spatter of facial hair that decorated his face, and smiled. “Morning.”
“Morning, beautiful. Sleep good?”
“Yeah, did you?”
“You were in my bed…of course I did.”
I melted at his compliment, and the sight of his first smile of the day nearly did me in. “I really want you to kiss me right now.”
“Yeah?” he asked and slowly dropped his mouth to mine.
It started out sweet, probably meant to test the waters, but I had no patience for that. Between my caressing and groping, moans, and twisting my legs around his, I made it obvious what I wanted, and when he finally dropped his hand to my thigh, I almost shouted in praise.
There was just one minor problem. We still had clothes on, and he wasn’t taking the initiative to remove them. I realized if I wanted it, I would have to go after it. So, without taking my mouth off his, I hooked my thumb inside the waistband of my panties and slid them over my hips. I didn’t get far before Holden must’ve realized what I was in the middle of; that’s when he took over and eagerly yanked them the rest of the way down my legs.
With a burst of confidence, I pushed myself up to lean over him, forcing him flat on his back. I didn’t waste a single second—or give him a chance to intervene—while I straddled his waist. I pressed my hands against his firm pecs, sat up straight, and kept my eyes on his. The only time I broke the hungry stare was when I drew my shirt over my head to toss it on the floor, leaving myself completely bare on his lap.
His face heated, and his breathing became labored while he clearly fought himself for control.
Feeling his dick grow impossibly harder and bigger beneath me, I ran my finger down the center of his chest, and in the sexiest voice I could muster without making a fool of myself, I said, “I want to ride your cock and use it as my own personal dildo until I’ve come so many times I can’t think straight.”
Without hesitation, he lifted his hips and shimmied his boxers down, and then I reached behind me to finish taking them off without removing myself from his lap. I wanted to maintain control, to take matters into my own hands before I lost my nerve. Steadying myself, I took hold of his hardened shaft, lined him up with my entrance, and then slowly lowered my knees as I sank down onto him.
We both hummed at the same time, more than likely experiencing the same euphoria. My head fell back, the loose strands from my ponytail draping along my spine. I worked myself up and down his cock while balancing myself with my palms splayed on his bare abdomen.
“Baby…I need you to move faster.” His hoarse voice did something to me I didn’t expect, reached inside and touched places I never knew existed. “This is torture.”
I dropped my chin and met his impassioned gaze. Ignoring his pleas of desperation, I seductively moaned while grinding my pubic bone against his, creating friction along my clit. I licked my lips and took a few breaths, trying to curb my appetite, to draw it out. “It’s like your dick is made for me, made to reach that perfect spot inside, and I’m not ready to stop. I don’t know when I’ll ever feel this again, so I’m not stopping.”
His fingers dug into the tender area over my hips as he attempted to gain dominance over me and entice me to move quicker. “If you stop torturing me, I’ll make you feel it every night. I’ll hit that spot anytime you want me to. But, Janelle…baby, you have to move. I can’t handle it.”
“This feels so good,” I practically moaned, my eyes on the verge of rolling into the back of my head.
With his hold on me, he started to speed up my movements, and then lifted his hips to meet me thrust for thrust. “You’re driving me crazy, Janelle. For God’s sake, do something. Or I’ll take over and fuck you into tomorrow.”
I stuck my fingers into my mouth and wrapped my tongue around the middle two, making eye contact with him to ensure he watched me. Once I had them wet enough, I pulled them past my lips with a pop and skirted them over my breasts, toying with one nipple, and then I skimmed them down my belly and circled my clit while he continued to try to top me from the bottom.
In an instant, he sat up and held me to him, his face breaths apart from mine, our bodies completely still other than our chests heaving between us. “I know you’re enjoying this, but I need you.” He toyed with my bottom lip, gently biting it and then slowly dragging it out. “I need you so bad.”
“If I only get this once, I want to make sure I get the most out of it. I have no desire to rush this.”
I was in his lap one second, and then on my back the next. In some quick, magician-like maneuver, he switched positions until he hovered over me with my shoulders, neck, and head extending past the end of the mattress. His large hand held me in place by the crook of my neck where he gripped me so hard his fingertips dug into the muscle above my shoulder blade. “I don’t know where you got the idea that this will only happen once, but you couldn’t be more wrong.” He punctuated each promised word with a deep thrust.
My back arched naturally, which gave him the perfect angle to hit the right spot. And it didn’t take me long to realize that this position gave me an even bigger advantage. I’d never thought the pleasure could increase, but it did. Every push, every pull, hit it, driving me closer and closer to the edge. Needing to secure myself and ensure I wouldn’t fall off the bed, I wrapped my fingers around his wrist with one hand and reached out to grab ahold of his other arm next to me. Between the angle of my overextended throat and the force in which he drove into me, I was unable to make a sound.
“You feel so good, Janelle. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to quit you.”
The burning ache low in my abdomen grew until it left me holding my breath as I chased the high. The harder I gripped him, the more intense his thrusts became, which made me more desperate to catch the ever-eluding orgasm.
“Baby, I can’t…” His voice came out strained, like his words choked him. “I can’t hold on much longer. Please.” More thrusts, more grunts. More intensity. “I need you to come. Please, Janelle.”
As if on cue, I lost control as the orgasm took over my body. Every muscle coiled tight, and my mouth opened wide, yet no sound other than strained air came out. I’d never experienced anything this powerful before. It was almost paralyzing. I couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t utter a single sound. My eyes remained clenched as I rode the wave, convincing myself it would never end.
The only thing capable of breaking through the cocoon of ecstasy was Holden’s growly grunt. It grew louder and deeper until I found myself pulled into him, my arms latched around his neck as we sat upright. Either he tugged me up by his hold on my shoulder, or I somehow found the strength to lift myself off the side of the bed and into his arms. I straddled his hips with him on his knees and his arms wrapped around me, guaranteeing his ability to remain in control. With each thrust, he held me tighter and pushed me farther onto him until he couldn’t possibly go any deeper. His girth stretched me in the most delicious way each time he became fully seated within me, and with every stroke, his length deepened his reach inside until the lingering effects of the last orgasm caught me off guard and dragged me back under like a riptide of ecstasy.
This time, I wasn’t silenced. An aching scream tore past my lips while my nails sliced into his flesh. His grunts flooded my ears like music, along with his garbled promises of filling me completely. And then, without warning, he turned to the side and practically tossed me onto the mattress, my back
meeting with the soft sheets. He hovered over me, holding himself up with one hand pressed into the comforter next to my head, his other arm still wrapped around my hips. Our cheeks grazed constantly with each move of our frantic bodies, the stubble on his face nearly chafing my skin.
“I need you…” he stammered, voice strained. “Fuck, I need you, baby.”
“You have me.” My reassurance was nothing more than panted words, but it was all I could offer. He’d exhausted every ounce of energy I had, and all I could do now was hold on tight and take what he gave me.
His movements turned rigid and jerky. And with one final thrust, he held himself deep inside me for an elongated beat. He collapsed on my chest before rolling us onto our sides. We were both so spent, neither of us cared how messy the bed was or that we were completely sideways on top of it.
“Oh my God…” I huffed out, in desperate need of air and oxygen and water. I felt depleted of everything a body needed in order to survive, and I wasn’t sure when or how I’d get it back. I barely had enough energy to scratch his cheek, feeling the short, coarse hairs beneath my nails.
“You love being upside down, don’t you?” His question held a note of nostalgia, and it made me wonder what thought or memory played in his head.
“What do you mean?”
When he lifted his lids, his eyes found mine immediately, and even without confirming it with his mouth, I could see a smile dancing in his gaze. “Doesn’t matter. I wasn’t thinking. Just something from that night, but you don’t remember, so it’s a moot question.”
“Maybe you should share it with me.”
He trailed his fingertips along the curve of my waist, over my hip, and along the outer side of my thigh, producing goose bumps on nearly every surface of my skin. “Well, that night…we were kinda all over the place. At one point, you started to slip off the side of the bed while we were right in the middle of it. I tried to pull you up, but you were determined to keep going, mumbling something about feeling weightless.”
