by Tara Sivec
My fingers slide in and out of her easily and Jesus, it’s the best fucking feeling in the world. I’ve missed the feel of her on my fingers and the heat of her body. I’ve missed the soft moans and gasps that fly from her lips when I hit just the perfect spot.
“Does he make you moan like this, Lucy?” I whisper, bringing my thumb down to circle her clit, pressing my fingers inside of her as deep as they’ll go.
She jerks her hips against my hand and begs for more.
“Please, Fisher… please…”
My thumb moves faster around her clit and my fingers push even deeper.
“Do you get this wet for him, Lucy? Jesus, you’re so fucking wet…” I trail off as I latch my lips onto the side of her neck. My hand starts to move roughly between her legs, pumping my fingers in and out of her so hard and fast that I can feel the muscles in my arm burning. I don’t think about hurting her or bruising her, I only think about marking her and leaving her with a reminder of me that sticks with her the next time she’s with him. My lips move back from the skin of her neck and my teeth take their place, biting down hard.
Each word I speak to her reminds me of the asshole she’s been spending her days and nights with instead of me, fueling my jealousy and anger to the point that I know I should back away. I shouldn’t be anywhere near her when I’m this fired up, but I can’t stop now that I’m inside of her.
I quicken the flick of my thumb over her clit, rubbing it back and forth, feeling it pulse against my hand as she moves her hips faster, helping me drive her closer to her orgasm.
My teeth continue to sink into the soft skin of her neck as I pick up my pace, slamming my fingers inside of her hard and deep until the sounds of people talking down the street are drowned out by the sounds of my fingers siding through her wet pussy.
I can tell by the hitch in her voice as she moans and how fast she’s moving her hips against my hand that she’s close to coming. I remember everything about her body, ever little nuance and sound, and I hate that she’s trying to erase all of that from her mind with another man.
“You think of me when you come, dammit,” I growl, my hand smacking against her pussy with the force of my fingers slamming into her so roughly and so quickly. “You see MY face, feel MY hands and shout MY name.”
I slam my fingers home one last time, as deep as possible and add pressure to my thumb. Lucy comes against my hand and my name is most certainly on her fucking lips when she does.
As soon as I hear her shout my name, something inside of me snaps. The angry haze that clouded my eyes and the fury in my bones slips out of me in a rush.
I let out a shuddering breath and quickly pull my fingers out of her, moving away as fast as I can. My back slams into the building opposite her and I bring my hands up to my head, clutching my hair in my hands.
Lucy turns, rolling her body against the wall like it’s boneless and takes effort for her to move. She’s probably in pain. I fucking pushed her against that building because I let my anger get the best of me. I swore to never hurt her again and look what I’ve done. I’ve reverted back to an animal who can’t control himself or his emotions.
“Fisher.”
She says my name softly and pushes off of the wall, taking a step towards me. The glow from a nearby streetlight illuminates her face and I immediately see a red welt on the side of her neck from my teeth. I drop my hands from my hair and hold them up in front of me, shaking my head back and forth.
“No, don’t. Just….stay there. Fuck, what the hell is wrong with me? I’m sorry, I’m so fucking sorry.”
The soft look in her eyes instantly morphs into disgust that I’m sure mirrors my own.
“Don’t you dare. Don’t you DARE apologize to me!” she shouts.
Her anger shocks me and makes me feel worse. I spent all those months away from her trying to find a way to control myself and, after just a few seconds of seeing her kiss another man, I’ve ruined all of the progress I’d made.
“I shouldn’t have done that. I shouldn’t have touched you like that. I’m so sorry,” I whisper, wishing someone WOULD come down this alley right now just to kick my ass.
Lucy shakes her head at me and swipes angrily at the tears on her cheeks. I made her cry. I hurt her and I fucking made her cry again. I want her to hit me, to scream at me and smack me and tell me exactly what kind of an animal I really am.
“You don’t get it, you just don’t fucking get it!” she growls as more tears fall.
I definitely get it. I get that I should have left her alone. I shouldn’t have come back here, believing that I was better and could make up for hurting her by being nothing but gentle and loving with her.
“That will never happen again, I swear to you,” I whisper brokenly, trying not to shed my own fucking tears in the process.
“Fuck you, Fisher. FUCK YOU!” she screams.
She turns and takes off running down the alley and all I can do is stand there and watch her go.
Chapter 25
From Fisher’s Journal
March 3, 2004
“Fisher, come on. It’s freezing! I kind of thought we’d spend our last night together doing something a little bit warmer. Maybe with less clothing.”
Lucy’s musical laughter tickles my ears as she tries to lighten the situation and pretend there isn’t a dark cloud hovering over the two of us. She’s fought back tears every time we talked about our plans for today, our last day together. It makes me love her even more than I already do, knowing she’s doing everything she can to be strong so that I can walk away from her tomorrow without the distraction of worry and regret.
Tightening my hold on her hand, I pull her up the last couple of large boulders at the very top of the rock pile that lines either side of Fisher’s Lighthouse. Moving behind her, I wrap my arms around her waist and hold her close, resting my chin on top of the knit cap that covers her head. We stare silently out at the dark, endless ocean in front of us, a few angrily cresting waves the only bright spots in an otherwise sea of black nothingness.
“I love this spot. I always feel like we’re the only two people on earth when we come here. The entire world disappears and it’s just you and me,” Lucy speaks softly. I feel the vibrations of her voice travel through her back and gently rumble against my chest. Squeezing my arms tighter around her, I try not to think about walking away from her. After tomorrow, I won’t be able to touch her face, hear her laugh or see her smile for eighteen long months. My first deployment right after boot camp was a measly nine months and it dragged by, so I know being away from Lucy for twice as long is going to be akin to torture.
I didn’t think twice about signing up for the Marines my senior year of high school. I didn’t bat an eye when I came home and told my parents that I wouldn’t follow in my father’s footsteps and become the next fucking king of Fisher’s Island. I never regretted the rift my decision caused in my family, making my mother cry or having my father disown me. He only speaks to me when we were in public and he has to put on a good show of being a wonderful family man and supportive father. I even went along with the lie he told the island about how I moved out of their mansion on the cliffs and into my grandfather’s two-bedroom cottage in town because I wanted “a new experience” before I shipped out. I didn’t care about anything other than getting away from this damn island and the legacy that I never wanted.
The day I signed those fucking papers, though, I met Lucy Butler. After eighteen years of living in this one-horse town where everyone knows everyone else and the only new faces were temporary, Lucy was a breath of fresh air in my otherwise stagnant world. She didn’t blow through my life like a hurricane, but she disrupted my world just the same. Lucy was more like a gentle breeze that whispered against your skin, teasing you, soothing you and forcing you to chase after it just so you could feel it again. The first time I got her to smile, I felt like the world finally made sense. The first time I made her laugh, I felt like I could walk on water. The first time she kissed m
e, right here in this very spot, I felt like the fucking king my father always wanted me to be.
Almost three years later, nothing has changed. I still hate everything about this town, but I keep coming back because I can’t stand to feel the way I do when I’m away from her – like nothing makes sense, like I’m out there in the middle of that dark ocean, treading water all alone and trying to stop myself from sinking. Lucy keeps my head above water. She reminds me that there are still good people in this world who love you and expect nothing in return.
Given the situation in the Middle East, being redeployed was inevitable and I’ve been dying to get back in the action, but getting the orders still sucked and I did something really stupid that day. All I could think about was Lucy once again putting her life on hold, waiting for a man who wasn’t guaranteed to return to her. She had a good life here, full of beach parties with friends, working at the inn she loved and the fun and excitement of tourist season coming up to look forward to. I had the desert and IED’s, air raids and suicide bombers. We were only a few years apart in age, but a lifetime apart in experiences, and I told her as much.
It was the one and only time she ever hit me. My sweet, shy, beautiful girl lit up with rage and called me every name she could think of after she smacked me. I chuckle to myself when I remember that night a few weeks ago and Lucy turns around in my arms, sliding her hands up to rest on my chest as she stares up at me.
“What’s so funny?” she asks with a smile.
The beacon that circles around the lighthouse behind us slides over her features and I take a few seconds to memorize her face—her cheeks pink from the low temperature in the air, her silky, strawberry blonde hair spilling out from under her hat and splaying across her shoulders, her bright blue eyes sparkling as she smiles and the faint hint of freckles sprinkled across her nose.
“I was just thinking about the day I got my orders and you showed me your right hook.”
The corner of her mouth tips up in another smile, and with the dim light of the moon and the steady flash of the lighthouse, I can see her eyes cloud with worry. I wanted to bring her to this spot to tell her how much I love her, and now I’ve screwed it all up. I can tell she’s thinking that I might have brought her here to deliver the same spiel I gave her after I received my orders, the one about how maybe it isn’t a good idea that she wait for me, that maybe it would be better if she moved on. Her hands clutch tightly to the lapels of my wool coat and she pushes herself up on her tiptoes so that she doesn’t have to crane her neck to look me in the eye.
“Don’t even think about it, Fisher. I don’t care if the Marines turned you into a muscled, fighting machine, I will still kick your ass,” she threatens. She takes a breath, gearing up to give me more hell and I quickly bend down and cut off her words with my mouth. Her lips are soft and cold against mine, but with a swipe of my tongue, they immediately warm and she opens for me. She moans into my mouth, moving her arms up and around my shoulders, pulling me closer. I breathe her in, committing her smell to memory so I can pull it forward every single moment I’m away from her for the next eighteen months.
Moving back, I reach behind my neck and grab her hands, pulling them between us. Without taking my eyes off of her, I remove her left mitten and toss it to the rocks at our feet, kissing the tips of each of her fingers as I speak.
“I love your laugh,” I tell her, kissing the tip of her thumb.
“I love that you make me want to be a better man,” I admit, kissing the tip of her pointer finger.
“I love that you support me even though what I do is hard on you,” I tell her softly, kissing the tip of her middle finger.
“I love how strong and independent you are,” I state, kissing the tip of her pinkie.
Reaching into my coat pocket, I have a moment of panic when I don’t feel what’s supposed to be in there. I finally find it shoved down into the corner and breathe a sigh of relief as I pull it out and slowly slide it onto her ring finger.
“I love the way you look at me. I love the way you love me. No matter what, I will always find my way back to you,” I whisper, kissing the tip of her finger that now sports a diamond ring.
The lighthouse beacon circles back around at that moment and I see a tear roll down her cheek. The day we had it out and she convinced me that I was being an ass and that there was nothing she could do but wait for me to come home because I was taking her heart with me when I left, I told her to come out to this lighthouse whenever she was feeling sad. I told her that no matter where I was in the world, no matter what time of day, I would know she was here and I would see the beacon from the lighthouse in my mind, guiding me back home to her.
“I know we’re young. Shit, I know you’re young and I’m an old fucking man already at twenty-two, but I don’t care,” I tell her with a nervous laugh. “I’m already going to spend the rest of my life loving you. It would be a hell of a lot easier if you were there with me. Please, marry me. Marry me, Lucy Butler. We can travel the world, we can grow old together on this damn island, we can do anything you want. I don’t care what we do or where we do it, as long as I’m with you.”
I finally stop talking and rub my fingers over my bottom lip as I stare down at her, watching her examine the ring on her finger each time the light strobes across us. I don’t want to picture the lighthouse in my mind whenever I close my eyes for the next year and a half. I want to picture this ring on her finger and know that she’s mine, know that I have something worth fighting for, worth protecting my own ass for, worth coming home for.
“Yes,” she finally whispers as a smile lights up her face. “Yes, I will marry you, Jefferson Fisher.”
I let out the breath I was holding as Lucy presses her palms to my cheeks and stares into my eyes. “Keep your head up, stay safe, come home to me, and I will absolutely marry you. Just please, come home to me.”
Her voice cracks as she tries not to cry. I pull her against my chest and hold onto her as tightly as I can, wishing I never had to let go, wishing I didn’t have to get on the first ferry off the island in the morning and walk away from this woman who is my everything. I take these moments to enjoy the feel of her body against mine, the brush of her hair against my cheek and think for the thousandth time just how perfectly we fit together. I experience it all and I let it consume me, I let it warm my heart and fill my thoughts because after tomorrow, I will have to shut it all off. At oh-six-hundred hours when the ferry pushes away from the island and heads over to the mainland, I will have to close my mind to the smell of her skin and the sound of her voice. I will stop being a lover and become a Marine. I will get the job done and I won’t let anything distract me. Distractions can get you killed and I will do everything I can to keep my promise to Lucy.
I will always find my way back to her.
Chapter 26
Lucy
Present Day
Climbing down the ladder, I take a step back and stare at the front of the inn. I just finished hanging American flag bunting under all of the windows that face the street and it looks pretty good, if I do say so myself. We’re only a few days away from the Fourth of July and it’s always a big celebration on the island. Last night, while I was turning down the beds when the guests were at dinner, I left miniature flags for each person to hold during the parade, as well as a flyer listing the day’s activities. All the businesses go above and beyond decorating their storefronts, and Main Street is lined on both sides with American flags hanging from every light post. We have a parade and a softball tournament, the businesses on Main Street set up tables giving away free samples of food and other items and the day ends with a huge beach party and fireworks show.
I spent the last week changing out the yellow and orange marigolds in the flowerbeds for red, white and blue petunias, I borrowed a t-shirt press from the souvenir shop in town and made a couple hundred Butler House Inn shirts to sell at my table on Main Street before the parade and I organized a picnic lunch order form for th
e guests to fill out. I planned a bunch of great menu items for them to choose from so they can grab their already-packed basket from the kitchen on the Fourth and take it wherever they’d like on the island to enjoy. Every guest put in an order.
To say I’ve done whatever I can to keep busy the last week is an understatement. I have so many mixed emotions going through my head and my heart that I strongly considered moving into Barney’s and drinking my life away. I’ve tossed and turned in bed every night since the alley incident with Fisher and my frustration has been hard to keep inside. A part of me is wracked with guilt that I let things go so far with him and another part is begging for it to happen again, but I know it won’t. He shut down and pushed me away and I haven’t seen him since, but he did leave several more journal pages in my mailbox. I know it’s his way of apologizing again for what happened last week, and it tore me up inside to read those words and remember how hopeful we both were for our future together.
I felt more guilt over the way I left things with Fisher than what I’m doing to Stanford. Even if I never speak to Fisher again, I need to end things with Stanford. He’s been attending meetings on the mainland all week, so at least I didn’t need to come up with excuses to avoid him so that he wouldn’t see the mark Fisher’s teeth left on my neck. Unconsciously I reach up and rub my fingertips over the spot where the mark has already faded away, and my pulse kicks up a notch when I remember the feel of his teeth biting down on my sensitive skin.
Dropping my hand, I close my eyes and sigh, knowing it isn’t fair to myself or Stanford to continue this relationship when there will never be a future between us. I only have room in my heart for one man, and it’s always going to be Fisher who occupies that space.
I didn’t realize just how much I missed having him touch me until I felt the first slide of his hand up the inside of my thigh. I should have reminded both of us that I have a boyfriend and pushed him away, but I couldn’t do it. I wanted his hands on me and his fingers inside of me more than I wanted to take my next breath, more than I wanted to be faithful to Stanford and more than I wanted to be smart or rational. I hate that he still has so much power over me, that I forget everything in my life but the feel of his body against mine and his breath in my ear and his hands bringing me to orgasm. It was so animalistic and hard and just… perfect. Why couldn’t Fisher see how much I wanted that? Why couldn’t he see that I enjoyed every minute of it until he shut down? I know his loss of control was a direct result of his jealousy over Stanford kissing me on the street, and it hurts to think that maybe he didn’t really want me as much as he wanted to punish me for being with another man. I’ve spent the last year getting stronger, more independent and finding out who I am and, in just a few minutes in a dark alley, Fisher erased all of it. He makes me need him, he makes me want him and he makes me weak.
