by Gabriel Love
When the passenger door opens I trip over myself to apologize. “I’m sorry we ruined your homecoming dinner.”
“It’s not like that,” Michael says and I glance over at him. He’s staring out the window. “It’s a lot all at once. The crowd, my family. I mean, I love them, but they’re strangers after all this time.”
I nod, getting it. “Still, I’m sorry.” Deep inside my pain rises and I wipe away tears that refuse to stop. Michael pulls me into a hug and I allow myself to find comfort in his arms. Somehow, this is exactly what I need right now.
“Wanna come back to my place tonight?” I ask softly, terror at what I might find filling my thoughts.
“Have you been back since...” he trails off and I shake my head. “Sure,” he says gently. When we part I turn over the engine and drive toward my apartment. Along the way we drive past places that we once went together, places he and Ana enjoyed, and old clubs we frequented.
It feels like a lifetime ago, and I guess it kind of was.
At my place I begin to tremble the moment we walk into the lobby. Michael’s hand finds mine and we make our way to the elevator. I hold my breath for the whole trip up to my floor and Michael squeezes my hand reassuringly.
I want to talk, I want him to promise me he’ll let me fight my own battles. That he will trust me to take care of myself. That he’ll be by my side, not in front of me, hiding me from what’s to come.
The elevator door opens with me having said none of it.
We step out and walk to my door. I halt before it. Notes are stuck in the crack and I gather them up and hold them tight. I unlock the door and walk into the room. The first thing that hits me is the stale smell.
Second; the bedroom door still broken and hanging sadly fromm the hinges.
Michael squeezes my hand as I walk in toward the couch. He releases me and I sit and begin shuffling the notes. Two are from the Neils, the rest are from Mrs. Brown. All express worry, concern, and several threaten to call the cops. I feel guilty for just disappearing, but it had to be done.
“I need to let them know I’m okay,” I say, glancing up at Michael. He nods and we head for the front door. I knock on Mrs. Brown’s door and she opens quickly. A little squeal of worry leaves her throat and she pulls me into a hug. “Oh, I was so worried.” Then she steps back, staring over my shoulder. “Who’s your friend?” she asks.
“This is Michael.” I don’t feel like clarifying further as he shakes her hand. “I wanted to let you know I’m okay and that Philip and I are no longer together.”
Fear crowds her features. “Oh, the Neils moved out because of him. They pressed charges and everything. Apparently he was saying horrible things to them. He came by here so sure I knew where you went.”
“I’m sorry,” I say, at a loss. I didn’t even consider the possibility that he might harass them.
“He stopped after a couple weeks. Very suddenly, actually.” She seems troubled. “I need to feed my cats,” she says, closing the door quickly.
“That was weird,” I say, glancing over my shoulder at Michael. His expression is dark and fear fills me. “What did you do?” I ask.
“I was in jail,” he says and a shiver rolls through me. But he was. and he didn’t have any contact with the outside world. Maybe Philip just gave up and moved on to greener pastures.
We head back to my door and begin to clean in silence.
When we’re through, Michael makes up the pull out couch and I make my bed, staring out the window and remembering the good times I had with Philip before he lost his shit. I miss that part of him, the sweet guy who’d hold me after orgasm ripped through my body.
I turn to say good night to Michael and find him in the doorway, watching me. Again, that chilly feeling flows through me and dad’s words ring in my ears.
You seem to forget he killed that boy in cold blood!
“You’d never hurt me, right?” I ask, uneasy.
“Don’t make me promise something I can’t guarantee.” The intensity of his eyes begin to feel like they’re boring into my very soul. He’s so imposing my heart begins to slam. He closes the gap between us and his arms are around me in a flash.
A whimper escapes my throat and his lips meet mine.
And I’m lost to his savage desperation. His tongue plunders my mouth and I find myself melting back onto my bed. He follows me down and his hard body presses to mine as his hands seek my wrists.
He pulls them up over my head and holds them with one of his. His lips leave mine and I whimper as he kisses my jaw, my neck, down the exposed flesh of my vee neck shirt. I hate myself for it, but I’ve been craving this. Not that I’ve ever admitted it, even to myself.
“Michael,” I whimper.
“Yes?” He’s gruff and intent on tasting my skin.
“Don’t stop,” I whisper as his tongue traced the hollow at the base of my throat.
“I won’t,” He says as if it wouldn’t have mattered if I said no. The thought excites me more. His weight on me is heaven and heat begins radiating from my core to every inch of my body.
When he pulls my shirt up, I gasp in shock. Then his hand begins to pet me from my ribs to the gentle thrust of my hips. His fingers tickle over the gentle jut of my hip bone and sweep my belly back up to my ribs.
“I want to feel you,” He says, his words dark with lust. With that he releases my wrists and backs off to bring me into a sitting position. Together we free me of my shirt, then my bra. His shirt follows and I’m struck by the sheer power of his body.
I’ve got no time to stare as his lips meet mine in a possessive kiss that leaves no room for doubt. I want this. He wants this.
This is happening.
Right now.
In my bed.
Fuck, it’s going to be amazing.
His chest meets mine and I moan into his lips. He feels better than he looks. His hands capture my wrists again and once more he pulls them above my head, leaving me feeling at his mercy.
He lifts his head and peers down at me. “I need to feel you cum,” he says and pleasure rips through me at the words. I stare up at him, loving how he looks over me like this. His wide shoulders block my vision and his arms beside me cradle me close.
And his eyes. They’re the deepest green I’ve ever seen them and they’re watching me like he’s waiting for something.
“Why are you waiting?” I whisper.
A dangerous grin tugs the corner of his mouth and he kisses me again. I moan when he begins kissing down my body, down my stomach, then kisses the heart of me over my skirt. Both his hands slip under my ass and cup me.
The feeling is almost too much as I feel him lift me just enough to work the zipper of my skirt down. They’re gone none too soon and Michael kisses me once more, this time on the scarlet lacy thong that’s barely covering my delicate flesh.
He works them down and I shiver as the sensation of them slipping off and tickling my calves sends an army of goose bumps rising along the length of my legs. Then his lips press firmly to the inside of my thigh.
I lift my head and look down at him past the rise of my breasts and the valley of my flat stomach. His eyes meet mine as his lips kiss up an inch higher. I watch him, fascinated by the vibrance of his green eyes and the sharp promise in his expression.
Fuck, he looks good between my legs.
I shiver as his lips inch closer. He’s a fucking tease and he knows it! With his gaze locked on mine he lifts his lips and kisses the clean-shaven sensitive flesh covering my clit. Still, his eyes watch me as his tongue flicks over my clit.
The warm, silken feeling is heaven and I moan, letting my head drop back. And the sensation stops. I lift back up and catch the expression in his eyes. He wants me to watch. With gentle fingers, he parts my petals and his tongue tastes me.
I watch his lips seal around my button and he sucks gently. The burst of pleasure is so intense I feel my body shake and my stomach coils up. Keeping the gentle suction, he begins to
tease my clit with the tip of his tongue while keeping those amazing eyes locked on mine.
Never have I ever been so very turned on. Why haven’t I been watching every time I’ve been gone down on? I carefully lift up on my elbows. Balancing on one, I touch his head, stroke his hair. It had been kept close cut for the trial, but I’ll never forget how he looked with shoulder length black locks.
As if he’s tired of this, his tongue begins attacking with so much force I gasp. Pleasure and pain battle it out and I fall back onto my bed, struggling not to cry out in pure joy. His hands move up to my hips and hold me in place as my I hook my knees over his shoulders and lock my ankles behind his back.
Pleasure rises and rises and rise and I wait for the crash, for that final explosion where the room fades to blinding white and my heart feels like it’s going to implode.
Whimpers and moans escape me, even though I’m desperate to hear the soft sounds he’s making. Then he begins to hum. The sound is almost impossible to hear, but the gentle vibration sends my body into a state of shock that instantly leads to a crash of pleasure that steals my breath.
Even as my body begins to shudder and I’m blinded by white-hot light, I feel him holding me, gently kissing my throbbing button. His fingers slip into my pulsing pussy and I arch my back and moan at the pleasurable intrusion.
Then, he’s gone. Shocked, I look up. He’s in the bathroom, closing the new door we’d put on it hours before. Hurt, I wonder what I did wrong. I creep to the door and knock softly. He opens the door and I look up at him, worried.
“Did I do something wrong?” I ask softly, unsure.
He shakes his head. “I just needed a minute to regain control.”
I grin. It’s been nearly five years for him. “Feel free to tear me apart,” I say and his expression changes. Studying him I whisper, “I like when it hurts.”
With that, I race back to my bed and jump in. When I look over my shoulder, he’s behind me. His hands capture my hips and lift me to my knees. He pulls me so hard my arms give out and I find myself totally at his mercy, ass in the air, shoulders pressed to the bed, arms stretched out before me.
And it’s perfect.
When he presses into me, I whimper at the sting of my body stretching around him. Without warning, he plunges home and I scream into the bed in shock, pain and pleasure. With every thrust he fills me completely and forces me to stretch just a bit more.
Fuck, he’s going to bruise me. But that makes it better.
He’s bigger than I expected, bigger than I think I’ve ever had the fortune to enjoy. The internal strain is both for length and girth, and the feeling of fullness somehow pushes me closer to orgasm.
Which is impossible.
I’ve never cum from vaginal.
Yet the feeling is building.
“I need to feel it,” He growls and I shake my head in denial.
“I can’t.”
“You can.”
“I never have-”
“You will.”
As if my body is aware of his order, my pussy tightens and spasms in a way I’ve never experienced. It’s not as intense as when he went down on me, but it’s enough to make my body weak and my legs tremble.
“See?” He says, thrusting harder as my voice begins mewing and moaning in pleasure as the waves of pleasure crash over me.
The cool room suddenly seems blazing hot and I begin to beg him in tattered words. “Please, please fill me up.”
“So irresponsible,” he says in a chastising tone.
“I’m on the pill,” I say.
“It wouldn’t stop me if you weren’t,” He says softly and my body tightens up as heat roars through me.
Then I feel him expand and heat fills me so completely I know he’s lost. “Yes,” I pant, pushing back on him as he begins to ease off the powerful thrusts.
When his body shudders, I find myself feeling an odd excitement I’ve never experienced after sex. It’s a mixture of knowledge that he’ll be here tomorrow and that our lives are unequivocally entwined by forces beyond our control.
He lowers and I understand he wants me flat on my belly. I oblige him and he eases down on me, still deep within me somehow. With his weight pressing down on me and his heat surrounding me as my body begins to cool, I find myself feeling so very sleepy and safe.
His fingers brush my hair back from my cheek and I hear him whisper, “I’ll never let anyone hurt you again.”
I instinctively know he’s talking about Philip. Still, my body is done and I begin to drift off, content with everything that’s come to pass.
Epilogue
“Fuck!” I exclaim.
The amusement in Michael’s eyes is enough to make me glare at him in mock anger. It’s been a month, and we’ve spent nearly every waking moment together.
And we’ve strived to try everything. Everything. And not just in the bedroom, though I admit that’s a whole new playground with him.
Together, we’re working to make positive memories and I live for the tiny moments, the ones that help me find beauty in life.
“You can always give up,” Michael teases, looking silly in the white plaid golf pants and polo shirt the clerk swore was salmon, not pink. We’d come into this feeling silly and ready to just have fun with it.
He offers to take my golf club. I roll my eyes at him.
“It’s official,” I say, “Golf is a stupid sport.” I thrust the club into his hands and he winces and takes it like he’s scared I’ll hit him with it.
“Is it stupid, or do you suck at it?” He asks, the teasing tone gentle.
I put my hands on my hips and level a glare at him that asks if he wants to fall into the pond next to the mini gold course. “It’s stupid.” At my words, he grins at me and I admit, “And I suck at it.”
“Can’t be good at everything,” he says softly and I sense the humor is gone. The words aren’t cruel, they’re a compliment; one of several. And the number of kind words has only increased in the last few weeks.
I shrug them off. “Well, I’ve got that appointment in a few hours anyway.”
He glances at me as we walk back toward the parking lot. “Are you nervous?” he asks.
I shake my head. “Not at all. I just wish...” Pain eases in and cuts off my words. Michael stops and turns to me. He gently grabs both my shoulders and stares me straight in the eyes.
“You can’t blame yourself.” He’s so very serious, but all I can see is that there’s a new warmth in the depths of his eyes. A warmth that hints at something I’ve yet to admit to myself.
My choked voice lets me whisper, “Neither can you.” But he does. And I know there’s guilt in both of us for what we have. But we work past it day by day.
He nods and pulls me into a hug. Without hesitation, my arms wind around him. Between help, medication, and this man, mending has been slow, but it’s happening.
It feels like it’s been a long time coming.
I’ll never forget Ana and neither will he, but it feels less and less like my world has already ended and is waiting for me to catch up and more like there are still beautiful things to discover, if I just give myself long enough to find them.
And day by day, I explore every bit of life. Even the terrible parts have some glimmer of something good - be it an experience, knowledge, or even just the ability to know that this too shall pass.
This too shall pass.
It’s the magic phrase that can bring up up when you’re down or bring you down when you’re up. Ultimately, though, it’s all wonderful.
Every second of sorrow.
Every second of joy.
Every second.
Michael pulls away and looks down at me once more.
And I know it’s coming before it does. He glances at my lips, then leans slowly, as if giving me time and a chance to escape.
But I don’t. I watch him approach and when his lips touch mine, everything feels like it’s falling into place.
; There’s a gentle sweetness to it, but only for a moment. Then it becomes something dark that consumes us both. His hands find my hips and our tongues meet. When he lifts me I willingly wrap my legs around him.
Then I’m braced on a smooth surface and instinctively know it’s my trunk. Clinging to him and desperate to enjoy him, I clutch him like I’ll never let him go.
Maybe it’s wrong.
Maybe I’m a terrible person.
But this feels so right.
He breaks the kiss and studies me for a moment.
And fear creeps in. Who does he see when he looks at me? Ana or Ashes?
He reaches out to brush my dark hair from my cheek and I move into his hand like a loving kitty seeking a good petting.
“Why Ashes?” He whispers, and my fears slip away on the breeze.
“Why what?” I ask, not sure what he’s asking me.
He gives me a tender smile. “Ashes. Instead of Ash.”
My mind zooms back to a memory that’s both painful and beautiful.
“Ash!” Ana’s voice is teasing. She’s on her bed and I’m on the floor, having just fallen off.
“I’m trying to be serious here!” She says, patting the bed next to her. I climb up and stretch out on my belly before the book.
“It’s a great story,” I say, studying the flaming bird. When Ana sits up and crosses her legs I look over at her. There’s a glimmer of something in her eyes.
“Hey, you okay?” I ask, concerned.
She jerks her chin toward the book. “That’s how I imagine you. When tragedy strikes you are reborn from the ashes as a stronger version of yourself. Remember when we were eight?”
I know exactly what she’s talking about. “When I fell out of the tree?” We’d climbed the huge oak in the backyard, the very one the tire swing lazily swayed from. She’d lost her footing and I’d caught her.
Then, bracing her weight, I slipped and fell more than ten feet to the ground. I’d broken my arm while Ana screamed until dad came rushing out.
He scooped me up and I told him to get her. With a glance he’d showed me he was torn, so I struggled to be put down. “Go get her!” I said, anger in my tone as she continued screaming.
