Minutes pass before she is able to look up at me. I look back at her and feel her pain. It’s as familiar to me as an extension of my own body. I wipe her loose strands of hair away from her face, gently caressing her soft, wet skin with my palm.
“You stayed.” Her voice is hoarse from crying and barely audible.
“I couldn’t leave,” I whisper back.
“Thank you,” she whispers to me and releases her hands from around my waist, sliding them up my torso and to my chest. The look in her eyes is different now. She needs something, something to suppress the pain, and I know exactly what that something is. She stands on her tiptoes, attempting to press her lips to mine, but I turn my face so she kisses my cheek instead.
The disappointment floods back in her eyes. I can see the pain restoring in her eyes, too. However, I don’t want it to be there. I want to take her pain away.
I cup her cheek in my palms, raising her face with my hands. I want to do it. I want to press my lips to hers, but I can’t and I won’t. Presley is the only woman I should ever be kissing, so I stop myself then plant a kiss on her forehead instead. Zoe releases a deep breath.
The feeling of her naked, wet body pressed against mine makes me come alive. I want nothing more than to feel her from the inside. I want to take her pain away, and if I can’t kiss it away, then I will fuck it away.
When I glide my hands under her ass and lift her up, she instantly wraps her long legs around my waist as I turn around and press her against the wall. Putting my hand between us, I begin to rub her clit. I slowly move my fingers around her swollen, sweet spot, feeling her ignite at my touch.
Zoe’s head falls back against the shower wall as I expertly extract her orgasm from her. When I recognize she’s close, I move my fingers faster and let her fall apart on my hand. Her body begins to quiver and my body begins to ache.
I trail my hand down between us again and grab my dick in my hand. I start to stroke it slowly, getting ready to put it inside of her. Zoe adjusts her hips just enough so I can slide my cock into her body.
It feels incredible the way we fit together. We connect in a way that I’ve never felt before, something that has been present from the moment I’ve laid eyes on her. The connection is intense yet scary and not something I need in my life. It’s currently everything I want, though.
Zoe’s body wraps around my cock tightly, sucking me deeper inside of her. Then I begin to move. Slow at first, savoring the feel of her warm, tight body fastened to mine. Zoe releases a moan from her throat and the sound is intoxicating, pushing me to drive harder and faster into her.
I push her hard into the wall as I begin to pick up the pace, fucking her as quickly as I can. Zoe leans forward, wrapping her lips around my earlobe and biting down. The twinge of pain sets me ablaze as I pull myself from her body and allow the beads to drip from my dick and onto the shower floor. I come so hard that my legs feel weak, and that, at any moment, I will fall down to the ground.
I slowly set Zoe down and we shut off the water then exit the shower. She hands me a towel then grabs one for herself and dries off while I do the same.
“Can you stay?” Zoe asks as she’s running a brush through her hair.
“Darcie and Reggie know I’m with you. They said they’d watch Mia until I get back, so yes, if you need me to stay, I will,” I reply, knowing how much I want to stay, though I’m feeling like it’s the wrong thing to do. I struggle with my affections toward this woman. I know I shouldn’t feel them…I can’t feel them because of Presley. I can’t lose her memory and if I allow the feelings I have for Zoe to move in, what will happen to my feelings for Presley?
Zoe takes my wet towel, tossing it to the floor and then tugs on my hand, pulling me from the bathroom. She leads me to the air mattress blown up in the middle of the room and lays me down. She then climbs on top of me, her knees on either side of my hips. Her hand strokes my dick, getting it hard with each deliberate movement.
“Drake, do that to me again,” she pleads. She sits up enough to place me inside of her. The slow onslaught of pleasure lights the fire in my body as I watch her take me into hers. She begins to move and I fall victim to this woman’s body as she rides me, sending me to a blissful world of peace.
Chapter 19
Zoe
Drake and I have another marathon of sex, similar to what we did the first night we were together, only this time my feelings toward him are different. I care for him deeply and I’m brave enough to admit to myself that I may love him. Nothing has proved this more than when he refused to leave me alone, knowing I was falling apart bit by bit. Drake stayed and held me.
He’s been my rock through this entire agonizing process, and I know he cares about me. I can feel it from him, but because of his past, he won’t allow himself to acknowledge that he has feelings for me. He’s scared and rightfully so, however I’m scared, too. I’ve never felt like this toward a man. I’ve never wanted to be with someone so much in my life. Not in the physical way, either; although that is earth shattering. No, I want to be with him in every emotional way possible. The feelings came on so strong. He’s like a beacon of light to an incoming ship, guiding me to him and eliciting feelings I never knew I could have.
We lie in silence after the third round of incredible sex and I can tell he’s tired, but I can’t sleep knowing what I know about him. I want him to be certain that it’s okay to feel something for someone else, and I want that someone else to be me. However, if I’m asking him to make a bold move, then I need to make those moves as well. I need to be open about my past in hopes that he feels that he can be open about his.
“Did my aunt ever tell you why I haven’t talked to my family in four years?” I ask, attempting to get the conversation started.
“No, she didn’t.” Drake rolls to his side and I roll to mine. I tuck my hands under my cheeks as I stare into his black eyes, falling completely in. We are lying very close. I can feel the heat we generate between us even though our bodies don’t touch.
“I have a history of being with men. I guess the technical term is promiscuous or nymphomaniac. It all started when I was fifteen; I just wanted to see what all the fuss was about, so I had sex with my boyfriend. Then after two years of figuring out what to do with my body and what I could do to his body, I really started to enjoy having sex.” Drake’s face doesn’t change. He doesn’t cringe when I openly admit I’m a whore and how much I like having sex.
“When we broke up, I spent the next year or so having sex with a lot of guys. It didn’t matter if I was drunk or high or completely sober, I just loved the feeling of it. I love sex. A couple days after I graduated, my mother’s boyfriend decided that, since I was a whore, it was okay to tie me up and try to have sex with me,” Drake closes his eyes, expelling a deep breath, and when he reopens them, they are angry. “but I was able to fight him off me.
“That same day, I told my mother—Aunt Connie’s daughter, Rebecca—and my cousin, Sophia; but none of them believed me. Then, when Fred came home, he said I came onto him and he was the one who denied me. They chose to believe him and my mother banished me from her life. I was exiled from my family, just like that and not a single one of them showed any remorse. Sophia was my best friend for hell’s sake, and she wanted nothing to do with me. When it comes to Sophia, the part that kills me is that she acts so above me when she’s exactly the same.” I look down at my hands, feeling the hurt of their betrayal in my heart. It’s been a long time since I’ve allowed these feelings to live inside of me. “Anyway, it’s been four years, and I’ve been on my own ever since.”
“What have you been doing since you left Wisconsin?” Drake’s hand brushes a loose strand of hair away from my eyes. I slightly lean into his hand, enjoying his delicate touch.
“I’ve been living from place to place. Once I got my car, I pulled out a map and let the fate of a dime dictate where I’d land next.”
“What?” Drake’s brows crinkle in confusion and the si
ght makes me smile. Finally, a smile.
“I will lay a map across the hood of my car and toss the dime. Wherever it lands is where I go next. It’s stupid, I know.” I cover my face with my hands, embarrassed by my vagabond way of living.
“Stop. It’s not stupid. It’s kind of cool. And that’s how you came to Sulfur Heights, from a toss of a dime?” I nod and he smiles. “So where have you lived?”
“All over, really. I tried to stay away from the Midwest, but I started running out of different states to live in and I had to get out of Louisiana.”
“Why?”
I lift my bangs, exposing the fresh scar Terrance gave me after he punched me in the head. “Terrance. He’s the closest I’ve ever come to having a relationship, and that was a mistake.” Drake’s jaw tightens as he closes his eyes, suppressing his anger. It makes me happy knowing he’s angry because someone tried to hurt me. This proves he cares for me. How deeply? Well, that’s yet to be determined.
Drake’s hand moves from his side and comes around to my waist. He pulls me close to his body, his forehead pressing against mine. He then leans up and kisses the scar on my head and I want so badly to kiss his lips, but I stay still. I hope he takes that leap and kisses me, though.
“I know how betrayal feels, more than you will ever know.” Drake pulls away and I know he’s thinking about telling me his story, yet he says nothing more.
The quietness is killing me, so I say something to break it. “I never told anyone that.”
Drake clears his throat then asks, “Did Mrs. Fields know what happened to you?”
“Yes, she did. And unlike them, she chose not to believe the lie,” I whisper, thinking about the conversation we had not so long ago.
I texted Rebecca when Aunt Connie took a turn for the worse. She never responded back. I dread to think of the reality for her if it wasn’t for Drake and me—my aunt would’ve had no one to care for her in the final months of her life. She would have been left alone.
An uneasy feeling settles over me when I suddenly realize living a life as a gypsy is the last thing I want. If I refuse to establish myself somewhere—anywhere—then, when the time comes, I will die alone.
Then, before I can stop them, the tears trickle down from my cheeks and fall onto his chest. Drake pulls my head back and I fall again into is black eyes. His hands come to my face as he wipes away my tears with the pads of his thumbs. We get lost yet again in each other’s bodies, but this time I’m not just having sex with him. I’m making love to him even though I can’t kiss him. I can still make love to him.
***
My aunt has made all her arrangements before she passed. I’m assuming when she found out she was sick, she took care of it all because there is very little I need to pay for. I dress in the only black dress I own, which is more suitable for a dance club than a funeral. I snatch a black cardigan from my closet and pull it over my shoulders. I apply a little eye shadow, liner and lip gloss then tie my hair up on top of my head. I look as good as I possibly can when my insides feel like their dying. The winter air bites when I step from my apartment and walk to my car. I fall into the driver seat and head toward the funeral home.
Drake has been with me every step of the way, helping me deal with the aftermath of my aunt’s death. He’s been attentive as we’ve spent the past few nights together in my apartment. He will come over late, after Mia is put to bed, and then leaves before she’ll wake up. When I’ve asked him about work, he told me they gave him the week off for the funeral and he doesn’t need to be back until Tuesday. I am grateful he’s here to help me, but in the back of my mind, I’m scared that once this is all over, so are we.
He’s made it clear on more than one occasion that he can’t give me more and I’ve never pushed, even though I know he’s capable of give me so much more. But how do I convey that to him? What is the right thing to say when it’s someone’s heart at stake?
I pull into the funeral home parking lot and walk in the building. My stomach is pained, making it harder to move inside the door. The Evans family is standing in the lobby area, but I cannot see Drake. Everyone is here but him.
“Darcie, where’s Drake?” I ask. She points to his Chevelle. I can see him sitting behind the wheel, the tension is on his face and he looks like he’s battling with the demons he’s had since Presley died.
I turn to the door and open it, faintly hearing Darcie say, “I wouldn’t,” but I choose to ignore her and walk to Drake.
I open the passenger side door and fall into the seat. He doesn’t look at me. He simply glares at the funeral home, killing it with his eyes, and his hands are gripped around the steering wheel so hard his knuckles are white.
I move as close to him as I can and put my hand on his forearm. His skin is hot and slick with sweat. “Drake,” I whisper. “Tell me what’s wrong?”
“Just go inside, Zoe, please.” The tone of his voice is low and deep, mirroring the tone he used when I first heard him speak.
Boldly, I say, “I can’t, Drake.”
When he turns and faces me, his eyes are pits of tar as they ignite on fire, blazing me with every second. “I said, GO!” he screams at me and then loses all control, punching the steer wheel and scaring away all the anxiety in me of going to my aunt’s funeral.
“NO!” I shout, struggling to find my voice. I won’t let him hide in the car. He needs to be able to move on. When people fall apart, they somehow manage to get back to their feet, and it’s his turn. I will help him. “I can’t do this without you.” My voice becomes soft and pleading.
Drake turns to me, finally looking into my eyes. His breathing is rapid when he starts taking deep breaths in and out, calming himself enough to function. Finally, I can see the anger start to melt away. His hands release from the steering wheel and fall onto his lap, but they are still balled into hard fists.
I slide my hand to his and cup his raging fist in my hands. “Please…I need you.”
Drake nods his head up and down then exits the car. I meet him on the sidewalk and we stand face to face, both scared to walk into the funeral home, though we’re scared for two very different reasons.
He doesn’t know I’ve researched what happened to Presley and his brother, but I won’t let him suffer anymore. He needs to know that, no matter what, I won’t let him fall. We have to keep each other upright.
“Just hold my hand, okay? Please don’t let go of my hand and I won’t let go of yours,” I plead. He looks at me quizzically. Now is not the time to divulge to him that I know his secret. That can wait for another day. Right now, this day will be easier for both of us if I stay silent and we hold onto each other.
Drake
The entire drive to the funeral home I am slowly building myself up, and by the time I get there, I am far too angry to be around anyone. I can feel the looming pain as I flashed back to the last time I walked through those doors. I can see her lying in the black casket, her hands folded across her lap, holding the picture of our daughter. I can feel her cold body when I collapsed on her and when I kiss her for the very last time. The thoughts have been in my head from that day forward, slowly torturing me every time I’ve closed my eyes.
I’m debating on leaving. I have the keys in the ignition and the engine running when the other door pops open, Zoe getting into the passenger seat. I refuse to look at her. The familiar rage-filled feelings are right there on the brink of exploding out of my body, and I can’t stand the feeling. She needs to leave. She doesn’t need to see my fucked-up-ness.
I beg her to go inside, to leave me with my pain, but this woman is defiant and chooses not to listen. She wants to know more, but I don’t want her to. I don’t ever want to speak to her about why I can’t have more. She will never know. Her presence and my anxiety are too much to bear without adding that in the mix.
Then I explode. Red fades into my line of sight and I begin to punch the steering wheel, taking out all of my anger on my car, but she doesn’t leave. Zoe only
sits there, scared yet brave. She knows what I’m capable of; she’s seen me lose it before and she’s still here. I don’t want her here. I want her just to go and leave me to drown in my misery. I’ve been doing it for so long that it’s all I know how to do.
I hear her words, pleading with me to get out of the car. I can see how terrified she is when my eyes connect with hers. I ignore the fact that she’s probably frightened because I just freaked out with her in the car. Then again, she refused to leave and I can’t say no. She needs me and I need to be there for her.
“Just hold my hand, okay? Please don’t let go of my hand and I won’t let go of yours.” Zoe tightly grips my hand and I get an unsuspecting feeling that she’s talking about something completely unrelated to her aunt’s funeral. I shake off the eerie feeling as we walk hand in hand to the funeral home.
As we step through the door, I help Zoe out of her coat and hang it on the coat rack. Her back is exposed as the sweater she’s wearing to cover her arms falls off when I removed her coat. The curve of her spine is long and sensual, like her neck. Her milky white skin is flawless. I’ve touched her body so many times, but I’ve never actually taken the time to study it.
Zoe looks over her shoulder at me and gives me a faint, blushing smile as she slides her sweater up on her shoulders. The black dress is hugging her curves, and without the sweater, it looks like a dress a girl would wear for a night out, not a funeral. She looks beautiful nonetheless. Her long legs are covered in black, sheer nylons. Every part of her body looks flawless. I can’t take my eyes off her, and I really don’t want to. I would rather be here, lost in her body than face the reality of Mrs. Fields’s death.
When I walk deeper into the funeral home, I see Mrs. Fields’s casket at the front of the room and all those feelings come flooding back like a huge, giant wave. It crashes into my body and nearly knocks me off my feet. The casket looks the same as well as the flowers. The lighting in the room and the smell of the cinnamon air fresheners are all the same, taking me back to the last time I saw Presley.
Surviving Love Page 15
