That isn’t entirely true.
I know these things: my chances of dying on the table are miniscule; my chances of using some form of crutches or a wheelchair for the rest of my life is at ninety percent. If there is a ten percent miracle out there for me, I might walk forever unaided but I have a sneaky suspicion that I used that miracle on surviving the bomb blast in the first place. I’ve heard over and over this week that I am a very lucky girl.
And this week I believe them.
Because Mateo is in the other room waiting for me.
My mom turns to look at me from her place at the desk and she’s got “the face” on. Now I know why my dad is out on the balcony. He’s not watching the city lights, he’s avoiding the big emotional after-school special moment my mom clearly wants to have. I take two steps towards the door and she crooks her finger at me in the “come here” gesture and then points to the end of the bed.
I sit my ass down because what else am I supposed to do. Her baby is going under the knife tomorrow and she wants to say whatever it is she needs to say. I guess I should say some things too.
We are not an extraordinarily emotive family. My dad is a stoic rancher, fifth generation and a Texan to the core. Mom is an Alabama beauty who went to the University of Texas to get her teaching degree and ended up living on a ranch and raising two kids. Andrew, is a big, bad Marine and loves it. You hug him at your own risk.
“Emma Carlisle,” she says, using my seldom-used first name. “I am so grateful you are having the surgery. I know you’re bearing the burden for all of us. The physical therapy, the uncertain future. We love you for it.”
I shake my head. She’s got it wrong.
“Mom, I’m not doing it for you... ”
She cuts me off with a wave of her hand. “For Mateo then. I don’t care who it’s for I just... ” And then she starts to cry and I sit there feeling like a total asshole for making my mom cry. “You have no idea what it’s like to watch someone you love die so young and so full of promise.”
I gasp and she stutters a bit, her hands waving in front of her face like she’s trying to suck the words back in. I know she didn't mean them the way they came out. I throw out all my usual hang-ups and rush to comfort her and gather her close in a hug. If there was ever at time for the Queens to get huggy, this is probably it.
“It’s okay mom. I know you didn't mean Aaron.” I rub her back as she cries on my shoulder and I remain strong, bearing her pain and letting her find her peace as I can. In an ideal world, she should be the one holding me as I weep and wail but I’m not built that way. I might look like my mom but I’m my daddy’s girl where it counts. I can be strong for her and anyone who needs me to be. I’ve seen me do it. “It’s okay. I’m going to be fine. Dr. Bertrand says so.”
I hold her for a while longer, giving her time to pull herself together as I correct her assumption.
“I’m not doing this for you, or dad, or Mateo. I’m doing it for me.”
She pulls away and looks at me, her eyes narrow with disbelief. “You told me you were planning on killing yourself. The only thing that changed since then is Mateo Butler arriving on the scene and while I’m beyond grateful, I do think it's a little fast.”
Wait. What?
“What are you talking about mom?” I release her and scoot back on the bed not sure where this made such a weird turn.
“It’s just that we’ve never heard about him and we get here and he comes running and declares his love and suddenly you’re having the surgery. I just think it’s a little soon for you to count on this working out between the two of you.”
“Nice way to tell me you don't like my boyfriend, mom.”
“It’s not that I don't like him. He’s wonderful, handsome and he can’t keep his eyes off you. But what you’re getting ready to do, all the hard work and the uncertainty would take its toll on a couple who had been together for years.” She reaches out and grabs my hand, giving me a smile that tells me she’s not trying to freak me out just hours before major surgery. “The kind of bond you need to get through this type of life-change takes time and you guys just haven’t had that time.”
I nod, completely understanding what she just said. She’s not wrong. But Mateo and I aren’t guaranteed to work even if we had been together twenty years. Nobody is.
“I get it mom. All I can tell you is that I love him and he loves me and we’re going to ride this out together. Whatever happens will happen but I think we’ve got what it takes.” I squeeze her hand and stand to go back to my room. “But I’m not doing this for Mateo. I am doing this because of how he makes me feel.” She’s obviously confused so I try my best to explain it better. “I loved Aaron and losing him killed off my ability to hope but Mateo gave it back to me. And as Dr. Shrieve reminded me hope is not a guarantee of the future but it's a reason to stick around. So I decided to stick and around see what life has in store for me. I hope it is with Mateo, I plan on it, but I know better than anyone that the best laid plans can be gone in the blink of an eye.”
“I think I get that,” she says as she rises and comes over to give me one more kiss. “But whatever the reason, I’m so glad you decided to do this. Your father and I will do whatever it is you need us to do. We love you Emma Carlisle.”
“I know mom and I love you too.”
I leave her room and pad silently across the living room where Livvy is crashed out on the sofa. I told her she didn’t need to come but there was no stopping her and I’m so glad she came. She’s the sister of my heart and since Andrew couldn’t get leave to come home, she can help Mateo handle my parents. Dr. Bertrand already looks like he wants to run when my mom is around.
I slip into my room and hear the shower running in my bathroom. I kick off my flip flops, peel off my capri’s, and sit on the edge of the bed in just a t-shirt and my underwear. I should probably try to go to sleep, take one of the pills Dr. Bertrand gave me and float off into oblivion. But I don't want to do that. Not tonight. I have plans.
The shower stops running and I listen as Mateo pulls a towel off the rack and closes the door. I close my eyes and try to track the sounds he makes as he completes the most mundane of tasks. Brushing his teeth. Opening the cabinet door and using his deodorant and then closing the door again. No shave tonight. He’ll save it for tomorrow morning.
He’s been here with me for the past week and we’ve quickly adopted our domestic routine. I will miss this nightly ritual, waiting for him to come to the bed we share together. I love sleeping with his big frame wrapped around me, the hair on his chest and legs tickling my skin, the soft puff of his even breaths on my neck, the possessive hand he splays across my belly. Tomorrow night I will stay in the hospital for the first of several nights and then they will move me a long-term rehabilitation facility affiliated with Vanderbilt University.
I’m keeping my apartment but I have no idea when I’ll be back. I just can’t give it up. It would seem too ... permanent.
Mateo emerges from the bathroom, the residual steam following him out as he fully opens the door. His dark hair is wet, one of my big, fluffy towels wrapped around his waist. He sees me and he smiles. That bright, gut-punching smile that makes me glad I’m sitting down because it reduces me to goo every single time.
He is so hot. His muscles. The washboard abs and those cut lines angling down like arrows pointing to the good stuff. His large hands that can do hard labor at his cousin’s house and then touch me so gently that I fall apart like a broken window night after night.
But I don’t want gentle tonight. I need to feel him.
“Hey,” he says walking towards me and stopping just in front of where I sit. He looks down, tiny droplets of water trailing down his chest and just begging for me to lick them off. His lips twist in a carnal grin when he guesses what I’m thinking.
“How are your parents?” He asks.
He wants to talk about my mom and dad? I look at him more closely and I see the laughter twitching at the
corner of his mouth. He’s teasing me.
I reach out and grab the edge of the towel and tug, dropping it to the floor. He’s only half hard but I know I can fix that.
“I don't want to talk about my parents or the surgery or any other fucking thing right now. All I want to do is have you fuck me so that for one last night I can feel like myself. A memory to last for a lifetime. Can you do that for me?”
He’s starting down at me, all traces of humor gone from his face now and his dick is getting harder as the second pass. He licks his lips but his voice is still hoarse when he speaks. “I can do that for you.”
“Good.” I nod and swallow, thinking about what I crave most. “I want to suck you off first. Make me.”
His eyes flare at my demand, his pupils now blown so that he looks like he’s on something. I know he’s only high on me and that turns me on even more. I feel powerful as my hand circles his cock, loving the feel of the hard length as it slides over my palm. Mateo grabs my hand and lowers it to my side, pressing it down on the bed.
“Keep your hands to yourself,” he demands while taking my head in between his big hands and holding me still while he rubs my mouth with his dick.
We stare at each other, something primal and achingly sensual suspended between us. I feel dirty and powerful in all the best ways and I moan when he rolls his hips and his cock presses against my lips. I lick them and open as he presses inside with his hard, hot thickness. The thick flare of his cockhead glides over my tongue leaving behind a salty, sexy taste of pre-come.
I open wider, looking forward to the ache I will have in my jaw tomorrow, and Mateo sets a rhythm. He’s not gentle, sensing my mood and riding it out as he fucks my mouth and takes me out of my head and all the scary places its been lately. He pulls halfway out and then sinks back in again, bumping the back of my throat when I reach up and cup his ass, digging my fingers into the taut muscle there. My head starts to swim as he starts talking.
“Fuck Carlisle, that’s so good baby. You’re so wet and hot.” He groans, his grip on my head tighter as his thrusts get faster. He’s using me just like I want, the only thing I feel is the way my body responds to his, the wetness between my thighs and the ache in my breasts. I feel alive. Whole. Feminine.
“I’m close. If you don’t want it down your throat let me know.”
I don’t. I want him inside me when he explodes. I pull off him and use my grip on his ass to maneuver him around and push him down on the bed. He lands with a bouncing thud and we both huff out a quick laugh of surprise. Mateo and Carlisle. Still laughing when we make love. I hope that part never ends.
I reach over to my side table and get a condom out of the drawer. I open the packet and crawl over him and roll it down his length, loving the way his body bucks up when I give I few leisurely strokes.
“How do you want me baby?” He asks, lying in a submissive pose on the bed. “I’m yours however you want me. All I want to do is make you feel good. As many times as you want.”
I run through the many ways I can have him take me. Mateo is an amazing lover and I’ll come, over and over as he promises if I want. But tonight I want to be in charge, I need to have that control over our pleasure.
“Just like that. Hands on the headboard.” He sucks in a breath but does as I direct him and moves around until his head is on the pillows, long body spread out. I lick my lips when he raises his arms and grips the wrought iron bars on my headboard.
I straddle him, resting my wet pussy against the hard length of him, undulating my hips just enough to cause sparks behind my eyelids and see his grip on the bars tighten. I trail my fingertips down his chest, tracing the cut of his abs, rubbing the hard pebbles of his nipples. His thighs are shaking, his feet digging into the mattress.
“I’m going to ride you, Mateo. Don't move until I tell you to.”
He nods, jaw tight with his effort to remain still.
I position my body over his hard erection and I slide down, the glide so easy with how wet I am. Nobody gets me off like Mateo. Nobody. I suck in a huge breath as he fills me, stretching me, the first few moments walking that pleasure /pain path I love so much. I memorize all of it, committing it to memory and hoping this isn’t the last time I feel this way.
I don’t want to be in this alone so I keep my gaze on him. I could get drunk on the play of emotions across his face as I begin a slow up and down ride on his dick. I take my time, enjoying the moments as they pass by with us joined, suspended in our pleasure... together.
“You like that?” I ask and he nods, his grip making the muscle in his forearm go taut. “Do you want me to go faster?”
“I love being buried in your pussy. Fast, slow. I just want to stay inside you forever,” he confesses. The naked honesty on his face making my chest hurt with just how loved I know I am.
I lean forward, placing my breasts at mouth level and whisper, “Suck on them.”
Mateo lifts his head, capturing my right nipple in his mouth and he sucks on it hard and long. The pulse of lightening from his touch races across my belly and settles in my clit as it rubs against his abdominal muscles with each of my strokes. I let my ride speed up as he licks and sucks and lightly bites my nipples until they are sensitive to his every caress. I can feel the beginning of my orgasm low in my belly.
“Fuck me Mateo,” I growl in his ear and it sets him free to move.
He bucks his hips up as I piston mine down and our bodies meet in a frantic press of hard cock and soft pussy. His hand remains on the headboard but I don't need them on me. I just need him inside me, filling me.
I want it to last longer but he returns his mouth to my breast and takes a nipple in his mouth and begins a fast flicker of his tongue against it. I explode. On him. All over him. My orgasm bows my back and forces me to lose my rhythm.
Mateo lets go of the headboard and grabs my hips, forcing me to follow his pace until he stiffens underneath me and yells with the force of his release.
We probably disturbed the neighbors or woke my parents but I don’t care. I needed this. What could be my last time to feel this way, to feel this, period.
I send up a silent prayer that this part of me will remain. That this next step will not strip me of what to me is so essential to my femininity, my enjoyment of life. I feel ashamed at my thoughts, knowing I should be grateful to be alive, to have this opportunity to reduce my pain and possible improve my mobility.
Sex should be the least of my worries but with this young, virile man panting under me, I wonder how I will make him happy. Will he ever look at me with his blue eyes filled with desire and want?
I knew all of this would hit me sometime.
I collapse against him as my emotions bowl me over like a freight train. I don't even realize I’m crying until Mateo pulls me in close and starts making those soothing noises against my ear. I cling to him, letting him tell me that everything is going to be fine.
That he’s got me.
That we are in this together.
I listen to his words.
My lover’s lullaby makes it bearable until I crash into a deep, dreamless sleep.
Chapter Eighteen
Carlisle
My mouth tastes like a wet swimsuit I left in my gym bag for two days, and people are talking about me.
I try to crack my eyes open, fighting the pull of whatever they have in my system to drag me back into oblivion. But this room is bright, I’m tired of sleeping, and I’ve got to stop my mom from telling everyone the story about how my swimsuit strap broke at one of my first competitions and I flashed the entire crowd when I pulled myself out of the pool and jumped around in victory.
I swallow a couple of times, my first attempt at speech producing nothing. I swallow some more and lift my hand in an attempt to make a gesture that will communicate “shut the hell up” most effectively. It works because the story stops and I hear chairs scraping and people gasping all around my bed.
“Carlisle,” my mother is on
my left, her voice loud in my ear. “Hold on baby, we’re calling the nurse.”
Fuck the nurse. I want a drink of water.
I crack my eyes open enough to see the pitcher of water sitting on my bedside table and I point to it, clearing my throat.
My dad figures it out first and reaches for the pitcher and shakes out ice cubes into a cup with a spoon and hands it off to my mom. She scoops some up and feeds it to me and I sigh in ecstasy. Best ice cubes in the whole world. She spoons me another and I open my eyes, looking for Mateo.
He’s there, on my right side, looking tired and stressed but also relieved and like he still loves me. He didn't change his mind about all this craziness and run for the hills while Dr. Bertrand was digging around in my back. Thank God.
“Hi,” I croak out at him. I tell myself that I sound sexy but in truth it’s more like I have a six-pack-a-day smoking habit. His smile and his hand closing over mine makes me not give a shit anymore.
“Hi.” He puts my hand to his lips and presses a soft kiss against my knuckles and my heart does this jumpy thing that makes the monitor’s bleepy sounds speed up and my parents start laughing as he leans over and kisses me gently. “Tesoro.”
“How do you feel baby?” my mom asks.
“We called for the doctor,” my dad says, sneaking his large hand around my mom to squeeze my shoulder. “How do you feel?”
And that is the question, isn’t it?
I begin to concentrate on my body under the covers, trying to detect anything from my waist down. I’m not sure what I’m supposed to be looking for at this point. It was fully explained to me that the meds for post-op pain might mask much of the sensation for a while.
“Yes, Carlisle, how do you feel?” Dr. Bertrand asks as he walks into the room, a nurse following close behind. My parents move away from my bedside, allowing the professionals access to the equipment and the patient. I can tell by the look on his face that he’s seconds away from telling them all to leave and I feel panic building in my gut.
When Teo tries to pull back I grip his hand tightly and look at him. “Stay with me.”
Redemption Page 12
