As Tears Go By

by Lydia Michaels

  They visited a small café with outdoor seating. “I never go to places like this anymore,” she said after the waiter took their order.

  “How come?”

  She shrugged. “It gets old, the people giving us the stink eye, because we’re disturbing their meal. I try to limit our outings to places that are more accepting of kids like Hunter. It isn’t about my sensitivities. It’s about trying to find safe and supportive settings for my son.”

  “Tell me about a time it was hard for you.”

  She sighed, her head tipping back in thought. “A few years ago I was grocery shopping. Hunter was around four, an age kids still have tantrums. Well, he’d had a big one and a crowd gathered.” Her mouth tightened. “I could hear them, you know? Commenting about my parenting skills, saying my kid needed a spanking. He began hitting himself and a man said something about me needing to control my child. I sort of lost it.”

  “What did you do?”

  She stifled a laugh. “I think I said something along the lines of when you’re done staring at my son, maybe we can work on your social skills! Then I called him a jackass and gave him a lecture on autism. He abandoned his shopping cart and left the store.”

  “Wow.”

  “Not my proudest moment.” She smiled sadly. “You love your child more than anyone else in this world ever will. When kids are bullied or made fun of, it hurts the parent in a way I can’t describe. I just want to protect him because he’s not capable of defending himself, but he’s capable of crying tears as real as any other child. He’s very smart and his hearing’s just fine. Sometimes people are just cruel.”

  It was becoming quite clear that autism wasn’t something Becca coped with. It was her life. It was difficult to imagine something powerful enough to completely alter a person’s existence. That was autism. He had nieces and nephews. He knew parenting was a selfless job, but this was somehow different. His siblings shared themselves with their children. Becca, on the other hand, surrendered herself to be exactly what her child needed.

  He was learning so much, but worried his curiosity might be irritating her. “Do you get tired of the questions?”

  She tilted her head. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, when people ask—like I’m doing—does their ignorance become annoying?”

  “I was uninformed once too. When Hunter was born he was just like every other baby, but special because he was mine. I was like every other mom. I breathed in his hair and dreamed of everything he’d someday become. Then I realized how different our lives were and I had to be the one asking questions for a while. The thing is, no child’s alike. I don’t mind the questions when they’re asked respectfully. It’s the assumptions I hate.”

  Even though he had yet to spend time with Hunter, a protective wave ran through him. Hunter was an extension of Becca and he had the urge to protect him as much as her. “What do people assume?”

  “That every child with autism will someday be Rain Man. Hunter’s gifted in some ways, but he’s not a savant. His ability to play the piano is more of a compulsion. He’s good at math, but doesn’t necessarily relish it. His IQ’s actually right in the middle. But worse than the assumptions of giftedness are the misinformed comments rude people make. It’s never easy to hear someone snidely refer to your son with a label that’s become nothing more than a derogatory slur.”

  He never used words like that, but he’d certainly heard them spoken, always in a vulgar manner, toward anyone slightly different. Perhaps this was one of the reasons Becca censored foul language altogether, because she was never sure when such terms would be carelessly thrown out. He hoped no one ever said anything like that in his presence. Discussing Hunter was delicate, so he steered the subject in an easier direction for a while. “Tell me something about you, now.”

  That quick, her expression changed, excitement mingled with curiosity illuminating her eyes. “What do you want to know?”

  “What’s your favorite song?”

  “Oh, that’s a tough one. I love music, that’s probably where Hunter gets it from. However, I can’t sing or play an instrument to save my life.”

  He chuckled. “I heard a little of that singing this morning.”

  She blushed and one of those cute snorting giggles slipped out. “So you know.”

  “And you can’t pick a Rolling Stones’ song.”

  “Why?”

  He shrugged with feigned regret. “It’s the rules.”

  “Your rules stink.”

  He shook his head. “Rules are rules.”

  “I don’t know if I have a favorite song.”

  “Fine. What’s your favorite food?”

  “Sweets. I love chocolate, especially pastries and cakes. What’s your favorite food and song?”

  He thought for a minute. “I basically love anything my mum cooks.” He paused as her face lit with an adorable smile as though she had a secret. “What?”

  “You call your mom mum?”

  His skin heated. “Yeah. I’m sort of a momma’s boy. She spoils me rotten and I let her.”

  “So what does your mum cook?” Her mouth pinched with a teasing smile.

  “Doesn’t matter. It’s all good. Nothin’ like Mum’s home cooking.”

  “And your favorite song?”

  “I’m a big fan of Coldplay so probably something by them.”

  “I like Coldplay.”

  “We still need to figure out your favorite song.”

  “I’ll let you know when it comes to me.”

  As it turned out, he and Becca had a lot in common. They enjoyed the same actors, liked a lot of the same music, both desired to see the world despite their lack of time for travel, and agreed there was something particularly nice about quiet rainy days.

  After lunch Becca seemed tired. “Do you want to come to my place?” Braydon offered.

  “Sure. But I have to call Kevin and check on Hunter.”

  When they reached his place, she went to his office to call her ex. He was curious about their relationship, but tried to give her privacy. When she emerged from the back room she looked flustered.

  Unsure if he should form a stance on the ex, he tried not to let the other man’s presence in Becca’s life annoy him. The guy did him a favor, not appreciating the woman he had. Unfortunately, that also hurt the woman Bray now cared very much about, which made him dislike the guy on principle. “Everything all right?”

  She sighed and sat on the couch. “Yeah. Kevin said he’s fine, but I could tell by Hunter’s voice he’s having a rough day. It’s really hard not being in control.”

  He put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. “Anything I can do to help you relax?”

  She laughed. “Believe it or not, this has been one of the most relaxing days I’ve had in years.”

  It was amazing how much her words flattered him. He hadn’t done anything extraordinary, but perhaps that was what made spending time with her so special. Becca was complicated, but also appreciated the simple pleasures in life. She was easy to spoil in a manner of speaking and he was really becoming addicted to indulging her. “Well, why don’t you let me make it a little better? Lie back.”

  He eased her back on the couch so she was taking up the length of it. His fingers unsnapped her jeans and he watched her as he slowly lowered the zipper, her mouth quirking with a sweet smile.

  Carefully, he removed her sneakers and socks and proceeded to massage her dainty little toes. She hummed happily as he worked the arches of her feet and even kicked him playfully when he pretended her shoes smelled.

  “I’m only teasing. Your feet smell like roses.” He rolled his eyes and fanned his nose.

  “Jerk.” She laughed.

  Catching her foot, he proceeded to massage her—and tickle her—and massage her some more. Working up her legs, he pulled away her pants and panties. Her thighs touched, showing the soft patch of blond curls at the apex. Braydon ran his hands from her ankles to her knees, kneadi
ng gently. “Open for me, angel.”

  Her face flushed as she allowed him to gently pry apart her legs. Soft ivory skin greeted him. Carefully, he lifted her ankle and draped it over the back of the couch, exposing her. Beautiful.

  Her slit parted by the slightest degrees, giving him a view of her glistening pink folds. He leaned over and softly kissed the inside of her thigh. Her skin was so smooth beneath his lips and she smelled incredible.

  Placing her other foot on the floor, he eased closer to paradise. His gaze caught her watching him and he grinned. She seemed suspended in a moment of surreal anticipation. He wanted to take that feeling to unmatched ecstasy.

  Flattening his tongue, he slowly licked her sex. She sighed and stretched, softly whispering his name. His mouth placed soft kisses over her folds as his fingers slowly parted her. She was beautiful everywhere, but especially here.

  “I want to make you feel good, angel. Just relax.” He kissed the tiny bud peeking past her folds.

  “You are,” she whispered breathlessly. “Whatever you’re doing feels incredible.”

  His spine tingled at her approval. Maybe he should be concerned with how much her praise affected him, but he rarely got complaints about his desire to please. There was something so powerful about driving a woman mad with his mouth. It wasn’t about being subservient, but being a generous lover. But something about pleasing this woman trumped all other experiences.

  Twisting his wrist, he slowly slid his longest finger deep inside of her. She moaned, and he wanted to push her limits. “Do you like my fingers inside of you, angel?”

  “Yes,” she panted as he slowly withdrew and drove the finger back in. She was very wet.

  Extending his tongue, he gave her clit a few swipes. “And do you like my tongue on you?”

  “Oh, God…”

  “Tell me.”

  “Yes!” Her head was tipped back, hiding her expression, but her hands were gripping the cushions.

  “Fast or slow?”

  “I…I don’t know.”

  “Yes, you do. Tell me. Don’t be afraid to ask for what you want.”

  She deliberated for a few seconds. “Fast.”

  His motions immediately picked up speed. His finger plunged in and out of her as his mouth latched onto her swollen clit. She cried out and he slid another finger inside of her slick channel.

  She was sexy as hell. Her voice was sweet and breathless and nothing sounded better than his name on her lips. Reaching deep, he found her G-spot and tickled the sensitive tissue. Her cries blurred into one long moan after another as her cream coated his knuckles and she came.

  Gradually, he withdrew, kissing and licking away her climax. He wanted to fuck her, but waited to see what she needed. As she caught her breath, he watched the deep flush of her cheeks dissipate.

  Her eyes slowly opened. “Wow.”

  “More?”

  “I think I need some time to recuperate. I’m not used to all this.” Her gaze traveled over him. “I want to do it to you.”

  His heart beat with palpitating excitement.

  Her eyes turned heavy, her smile a seductive smirk. “I want to make you feel like you make me feel.”

  His body hardened. “How do you want me?”

  “Take off your clothes.”

  Breath filled his lungs as anticipation pumped through his veins. He rose from the couch and faced her. Crossing his arms at his waist, he stripped off his shirt. Toeing off his shoes, he kicked them aside. His fingers undid the snap of his jeans. Never once did he take his eyes off of her. God, he wanted her. So much so it was dizzying.

  His hands pressed his jeans and briefs to the floor and he stepped out. Rising to his full height, he met her stare. Her lips parted as she breathed. “No man should be that pretty.”

  He grinned. “And no woman should either.” He folded his hands at the base of his back and asked again, “How do you want me?”

  She smiled. “Every way possible.” Her body slithered off the couch and onto the floor. Rising on her knees, she looked up at him. “I haven’t done this in a really, really long time.”

  His hand coasted over her hair and he stared into those spectacular eyes. She slowly reached for him. The press of her fingers curling around his flesh was enough to rock his knees. He breathed through the anticipation and when her mouth touched him he drew in a hissing breath.

  She took him slowly, carefully. His eyes rolled shut as he savored every sensation. Her hand stroked the length she couldn’t fit in her mouth. When she pressed her lips to the base of his cock he lifted to his toes. “Becca…”

  She pulled away and blinked up at him. “I like hearing you too. Tell me how to do it, Braydon. You tell me what you want.”

  “Take me deep again.” She did and he groaned in pleasure. “That’s it, angel. Tighten your lips. Nice and slow. God, your mouth’s incredible.”

  She proceeded to suck him, her hand stroking with every motion. When she drew back to catch her breath, her lips were swollen and pink.

  “Rub my cock on your lips.”

  Her mouth parted and she gripped him, stroking slowly, dragging the tip over her lips and leaving them glossy. Fuck. She licked up the underside of his shaft and his entire body shivered. He forced back his climax as she slowly took him deep again.

  His force of will battled with his natural reflex to hold off as long as humanly possible. He treasured the build, savored the strength it took to be in control.

  She increased her speed and it became almost impossible to hold back. “Becca, I need to come.”

  She eased back. Her eyes were glazed with lust. “Do you have a condom?”

  He nodded. “In the bedroom.”

  She reached out a hand and he instinctively caught her fingers, helping her stand. Once in the bedroom, she stripped off her shirt. “I want you inside of me, Braydon. So deep I feel you for days.”

  His mouth crashed to hers, delivering a dizzying kiss. “How do you want it?”

  “From behind. Hard.”

  He opened the drawer and removed a condom. Handing it to her, she tore the foil and slipped it over him. Catching the back of her neck, his lips smashed against hers again. She kissed him fiercely and he loved this feisty side of her. When he ripped his mouth away they were both breathing raggedly. “Get on your hands and knees.”

  She climbed onto the bed and his eyes flared at the sight of her perfect ass. He dragged her hips back until she was kneeling on the edge of the mattress. “You’re sure you want it hard?”

  “Yes. Please. I need it.”

  And those were the magic words. Braydon stepped close to the bed, his thighs brushing the backs of hers. He lined himself up with her opening and drove in, burying himself to the hilt.

  She lunged forward and cried out. “Yes!”

  Gripping her hips, he pulled her back and slammed into her. Again and again, his body rocked into hers, shaking the bedsprings, knocking the frame into the wall. The slap of flesh on flesh was only a compliment to their needy cries.

  Her body fit his perfectly and he never wanted to leave her heat. He ground his hips into her and her sighs pitched higher. Lunging back, he drilled into her and her muscles locked, her cries mounted, and then he witnessed utter serenity as she surrendered to sweet release.

  He slowed and folded his body over hers, holding her tight. Their bodies a sultry kiss of flesh.

  His lips played between her shoulders. She was boneless. Brushing his hand down her spine, he rose and thrust into her one last time. His body strained as he finished. Head tipped back, he moaned, “Becca.”

  It took a long time for him to withdrawal from the sanctuary of her body. All he wanted to do was remain inside of her and curl up under the covers. Unfortunately, that wasn’t possible with the condom. Reluctantly, he removed his body from hers and quickly went to tidy up.

  After cleaning up he grinned at the soft pile of Becca on his bed. She looked good there. He scooped her up and tucked her under
the covers. Once he crawled in beside her and pulled her close, she turned to face him.

  Her palm rested on his chest as she smiled drowsily at him. “You’re amazing. Thank you for making me see that.”

  He wasn’t amazing. She was. He kissed her nose. “Sleep over tonight.”

  “Okay.” Her quick agreement told of how far they’d come.

  She snuggled into him and he sighed. They had Sunday left and then he’d have to give her space again. He understood how limited her personal time was and could be accommodating. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t already dreading their goodbye.

  * * * *

  Becca woke in the middle of the night, the silence of her surroundings jolting her into alertness. Recalling she was at Braydon’s, and Hunter was safe with Kevin, she calmed, but couldn’t go back to sleep.

  Her mind rolled over the things she needed to do in the oncoming week, breaking off onto random tangents. She lay awake so long the early morning dawn filtered through the curtains, catching on Braydon’s strong features.

  She didn’t require much sleep. Maybe that wasn’t true. She loved sleep, but her body, over the course of eight years, had become conditioned to only tolerate it in small doses and she never slept as soundly as she once had. It was as if her mind would never again fully shut off. Sort of like Hunter’s, always working, always analyzing.

  When Hunter was younger, he’d sometimes go two weeks straight without sleeping more than twenty minutes at a time. Those nights were excruciating. She insisted Kevin install child safety locks on all the doors, but they only worked for a short time. Eventually they upgraded all the doors with hotel grade latch locks bolted high enough that Hunter couldn’t reach them.

  It only took one incident of her son escaping and running into oncoming traffic to realize how important those locks were. Her life ran on fear, but fear could sometimes become debilitating. Terror was different. The day Hunter ran into traffic her body snapped into motion so fast, she’d never suffered such panic in her life. It was jolting and powerful and utterly horrifying. Thank God Hunter now had a general understanding of boundaries, but most days she still locked the doors.