The Traveling Woman

by Jane Harvey-Berrick

  “You’re my best friend and I love you, but what’s in here, I love that the most,” and I pressed the palm of my hand flat against his chest.

  His eyelids fluttered closed, but when he looked up again, his expression was one of disbelief.

  “It’s true,” I said quietly. “You drive me crazy, and not always in a good way, but no one has ever loved me the way you do.”

  And I meant it. Kes’s love was hard and uncompromising. Love to him was fierce, not soft and yielding. But for me, he was willing to compromise. For me, he was willing to bend. And I loved him all the more for that.

  I slid my fingers under the edge of his t-shirt, his skin smooth and warm. He held his breath, then let it out slowly in a shuddering sigh as I let my hands drift around his waist.

  I tugged on the hem of his t-shirt and he raised his arms above his head, allowing me to pull it off him. He laughed softly when it got caught going over his chin, but he just let me work it free, dropping his arms down again.

  And then I stopped. My breath caught in my throat and my lungs refused to work. His eyes widened slightly as I sat back on my heels, staring at him. I was drunk on his scent, his blazing eyes, the unsaid words that hovered on his lips. I pressed my shaking hands against my thighs and tried to breathe.

  “Aimee, please . . . just . . . touch me.”

  His voice was aching with need.

  I forced myself to move, brushing my hands across the silky skin of his shoulders, running my nails lightly down his back. I smiled as I saw goosebumps following the path of my fingers. His lips moved to my neck, pressing hot kisses into the soft flesh of my throat. He gazed up at me, a small smile playing around the edges of his mouth.

  What next? his eyes challenged me. You’re in charge . . .

  But there was only one type of sex I wanted right now.

  “Make love to me, Kes.”

  He smiled, but didn’t speak. Instead, he stood up with me in his arms and moved us both into the center of the bed, his body hovering over mine as he kissed me sweetly.

  My fingers trailed downwards, dancing across the muscles of his back, digging into the curve of his ass. A small growl of pleasure rumbled in his chest making me shiver. I could feel his erection grinding into my hip.

  He pulled my shirt free from my waistband, nuzzling my stomach, licking and kissing any piece of bare skin he could find. I thought he’d be in a hurry, but he wasn’t rushing.

  Instead, I could feel the adoration in his touch, in his slow kisses, showing me once again, speaking without words, promising that he loved me, that he’d always loved me.

  “This feels like our first time together,” I whispered as I smoothed my hands through his mop of curls.

  Kes paused on his kisses.

  “Why do you say that?”

  It was hard to explain. We’d only been apart a month, and before that we’d had sex twice or three times most days for seven weeks—which was definitely a record for me. I didn’t want to ask if it was a record for Kes, in case he said no. But now, in my apartment, with his willingness to be part of my life here, everything felt new.

  “Aimee?”

  “Because . . . because it just feels new, a fresh page, I don’t really know. Do you feel like that?”

  Kes dropped his eyes to my mouth then looked up again. “It always feels new with you. That hasn’t changed, not for me.”

  With gentle fingers, he unbuttoned my shirt and began kissing my breasts above my bra and over the fabric, until my nipples were too sensitive, the soft material rubbing against me almost painfully.

  Kes lifted me easily with one hand, slid my shirt from my shoulders and unhooked my bra. He sat back on his heels and tugged my skirt and panties down my legs. Then he stared until the intense heat of his gaze made me squirm.

  “Kes!” I whimpered.

  He shook his head as if he’d been underwater and had only just resurfaced. Then he picked up my right foot and placed a kiss on the instep. It tickled and I tried to wriggle free.

  He grabbed my ankle, his eyes darkening.

  “I promised myself that if you took me back, I’d kiss every inch of you. Right now, Aimee.”

  He kissed my ankle, my calf, my knee; he licked long, languid strokes up my thighs until I was a quivering, shivering, yearning mess. He kissed up my stomach, my chest, my arm, my shoulder and my neck, pausing to thrust his tongue into my mouth in commanding, possessive sweeps. Then he kissed, licked, nipped and tasted all the way down my left side, sliding his tongue between my legs and teasing my clit. I cried out as he pinned me down, trembling everywhere as I came on his lips.

  “So fucking hot,” he breathed.

  Then he flipped me over and started again.

  “Kes! Kestrel!” I begged.

  “Almost there, baby,” he murmured as he bit my ass cheek tenderly.

  I was moaning and crying as he savored every part of my body. I hadn’t known he could be so tender and intense all at the same time. Finally, what felt like sweet hours later, I was lost in a wave of pleasure, spiraling through a sea of sensation.

  From a distance, I heard him pull a condom from his pocket, and the mattress moved under me as he shucked his jeans. I tried to turn around to watch, but he pushed my chest flat to the bed with the palm of his hand.

  “Stay there,” he warned.

  Of course, I didn’t listen.

  I moved my head so I could see him rolling the condom to the hilt, his large hand stroking himself, his fingers meeting all the way around, the way mine couldn’t. He met my eyes, the hint of a smile lurking in those stormy eyes.

  Then he knelt behind me and pushed the tip inside.

  I’d lost all coherency and mumbled something indistinct, sweat running into my eyes so they stung.

  He pulled out carefully, but I could feel the tremor in his hands against my hips, and knew that his control was just a thin veneer.

  Then he eased all the way in, stretching me everywhere, a little pain, a lot of pleasure.

  I cried out when he withdrew, but then he was inside me again. And this time he swore, his hips jerking wildly against me.

  I loved it when he was slow and steady, but I loved it more when he lost control, when my wild Kestrel stretched his wings and fucked the way he wanted, fierce and savage as he raced to his own pleasure.

  He pumped harder and harder so I was in serious danger of being crushed against the mattress, but then he tugged me backward, supporting my thighs on his own so I was almost sitting on him as he continued to slam into me. I arched against him, screamed out his name, then fell limply against his chest.

  He grunted in satisfaction when he came, his cock thickening and swelling as cum shot from his body.

  I whimpered when he pulled out of me, a slight sting as he left me empty.

  He slumped onto his side, and I wriggled in his grip, turning so I could face him. His eyes were closed and his chest was rising and falling rapidly, sweat glistening on his golden skin.

  Then his eyes opened, full of lazy satisfaction as he smiled at me.

  “I don’t think I’ll be able to move again tonight,” I groaned.

  “Good thing I fed you already.”

  “Is it bad to want to go to sleep even though it’s only 8 o’clock?”

  Kes laughed. “If you stay in bed, I’ll just want to fuck you again. Nah, forget I said that.”

  “Why?” I asked, slightly hurt.

  He glanced down at me, smiling at my scowl.

  “It doesn’t matter if you’re in bed, watching TV, or riding a unicycle, I’ll still want to fuck you.”

  “Oh, that’s alright then,” I said, mollified. “Can you ride a unicycle?”

  Kes laughed happily. “Yeah.”

  “Huh, of course you can. Can you walk a tightrope?”

  “I used to be able to, but I haven’t done it since I was a kid. Probably with a bit of practice.”

  “Oh my God! Seriously?”

  “Sure. Ollo taugh
t me all that stuff before I was barely walking. He said that kids’ bones are like green twigs—they’d bend—so if I fell off I wouldn’t break anything.”

  “He didn’t say that?!”

  Kes shrugged. “That was the way things were. I was performing as soon as I was out of diapers. Probably before, I don’t remember.”

  He muttered something I couldn’t hear and sat up.

  “Where are you going?”

  He pointed at his softening dick. “Condom.”

  Kes sauntered into the tiny bathroom, and I enjoyed the view of his tight butt and long legs.

  “You want to take a shower?” he yelled through the door.

  “Yes, please!” I called back.

  A minute later, I could see steam drifting out of the bathroom door and I followed Kes inside. I caught him sniffing my shower gel.

  I crossed my arms and raised an eyebrow.

  Kes grinned at me. “I love the smell of a shower after a woman’s been in it.”

  “Any woman?” I challenged him.

  “Sure,” he replied. “All those fancy doo-dads you use.”

  “Wrong answer!” I said, snapping a towel against his butt.

  “Sassy today,” he laughed.

  “Get your cute ass in the shower now!” I ordered, trying to hold back a smile.

  Kes winked at me, but for once did as he was told. I followed him into the small space. It was the first time I’d tried this in my apartment. Gregg had always insisted that my shower didn’t have room for two people, but Kes and I seemed to manage just fine. I washed him, and he washed me, and what with all the hot, sliding hands, the touching, the shared smiles, he was hard and I was needy.

  “Aimee,” he groaned against my neck as I stroked his dick, “please tell me you’re thinking of going on the pill, or getting a shot, or something, because I really, really want to fuck you right now and the condoms are in the other room.”

  “I’ll do it! I will!” I said breathlessly, as his long fingers thrust inside me. “I will, just fuck me now, Kes, please! I’ll take care of it tomorrow, I promise!”

  His fingers hesitated in their rhythm, and his body trembled under my hands, but then he shook his head.

  “No, no risks, no mistakes. Children should be wanted, not resented. Don’t ask me, Aimee.”

  His fingers started to pump again, and I didn’t have a moment to feel disappointed as I gasped his name and my legs gave way.

  Kes grabbed hold of me even as I felt his cum run down my stomach. He staggered slightly and I crashed against the side of the shower, watching with shock as the whole panel popped out, leaning drunkenly against the basin.

  Moving quickly, Kes turned off the water. “Damn,” he said, shaking his head. “Never broke a shower before.”

  “Can you fix it?” I asked. “Because I really don’t want to explain that one to my landlord.”

  His grin was infectious. “Totally worth it. But yeah, I can fix it.”

  He chased me out of the bathroom as I squealed, caught me at the bottom of the bed, then he picked me up and tossed me onto it.

  “Stop throwing me around like a sack of potatoes!” I yelped.

  “But it’s so much fun,” he laughed. “You’re such a little bitty thing.”

  “You told me I was fat two months ago!”

  He looked surprised. “When did I ever call you fat?”

  “You said my stomach was soft and round!”

  He laughed quietly. “Well, it is. You have a great stomach,” and he cupped it with one large hand, stroking gently.

  I snuggled into his arms, not caring that my wet hair was soaking the pillow.

  “Kes, what you said about getting the shot . . .”

  “Heat of the moment,” he said quietly.

  “Well, yes, but I will. I always used to with Gr—”

  I felt his body tense.

  “Sorry,” I sighed. “I’ll make an appointment with my doctor, okay? And I’m sorry I pushed you. You’re right—children should be wanted.”

  We lay there quietly and I thought about getting up and making sure I had everything set out for the morning so that I wouldn’t be in a rush, but I was so comfortable.

  I felt like we’d made progress—not just Kes, but me, too. I’d let him show me solutions to our location problems, and he’d shared a lot more about himself.

  “Kes,” I said, stroking his arm idly. “I was just wondering, do you have any contact with your father at all now? You never said.”

  “Guess I didn’t.”

  I tried to suppress my sigh as his closed-off tone cut in immediately. I mulled over whether to press the issue because he’d said he didn’t want any more secrets between us.

  “You said he came from money and that he went into politics.”

  Kes wouldn’t look at me, so I rambled on.

  “Well, it doesn’t matter. I just wondered . . .”

  Kes shrugged. “I forgot I told you that much. Dear ole Dad—he was always ambitious,” Kes said bitterly. “He didn’t want to be tied down to my mom, an uneducated carnie girl. His family was rich and he studied Political Science at Harvard.”

  “That’s an expensive school.”

  “Yeah, his wife went to Columbia.”

  “He’s married?”

  Kes snorted and pulled a disgusted face. “Yeah, I have a half-sister six months younger than me.”

  “Six months?” I was shocked. Clearly, Kes’s father was a monster, being married at the same time he was stringing along Kes’s mother for all those years.

  “Is he still on the east coast?” I asked at last.

  Kes paused. “He’s from the mid-West, but he spends a lot of time in D.C.”

  My eyes widened in surprise, and Kes grimaced.

  “Maybe you’ve heard of Andrew Hawkins?”

  I gasped. “Oh my God! Andrew Hawkins is your father?” I couldn’t believe it! “The Andrew Hawkins—the Senator for Minnesota? He’s your father?”

  Kes gritted his teeth. “He donated his sperm, yeah.”

  I spent the next day in a state of shock. Andrew Hawkins was Kes’s father! The well-known and respected Senator whose platform for the last decade was ‘Family First.’ It was hard to take in.

  But it made sense now, why Kes’s father had been so reluctant to claim his illegitimate son. Even when Dono had died and Kes needed a father, his own flesh and blood had refused to come clean. No wonder Kes felt bitter; no wonder ‘normal life’ was anathema to him.

  He’d been quiet after he’d told me. I hadn’t—I’d been outraged on his behalf, and I think he was surprised by how strongly I felt. It reminded me of my own father’s betrayal, the years he’d had an affair while pretending to the world that we were the perfect family. Since I’d graduated, he’d had nothing to do with me or my sister. You tell yourself that you don’t care anymore, and you bury the hurt so deep down you almost forget it’s there. Almost.

  Kes hadn’t wanted to talk about it again, but I also sensed a relief in him now that I knew. He used his favorite distraction technique, which was more sex—not that I minded. My body had missed the happy endorphins that a Kes-style workout always gave me.

  But in another way, our relationship took a backward step. It was my fault, mostly. I was trying to persuade Kes to let me help him improve his reading and writing. He’d been ducking it all summer, but now he didn’t have the excuse of being busy.

  Reluctantly, he sat down with me at our small table. My plan was do half-an-hour, and I was secretly hoping that we could build that up to a longer, more effective schedule each day, but after two minutes, Kes’s knee was bouncing uncontrollably.

  “Kes,” I said gently. “I know you’re afraid of reading . . .”

  “I’m not afraid!” he snapped back, but I spoke over him.

  “ . . . and I was afraid of breathing fire, but you taught me to overcome that fear. Let me help you—you can do this, I know you can.”

  He ground his teeth,
but focused again on the worksheet I’d prepared at school. His knee bounced and his fingers knotted in his hair, he twitched and jerked in his seat, until I thought he’d go bouncing off of the walls.

  “Kes, just take a deep breath and . . .”

  Suddenly, he shoved his chair backwards, moving so fast, it crashed to the floor.

  “Stop fucking pushing me!” he roared, his eyes slate hard, his lips tight.

  I was taken aback.

  “What? I’m not! I’m just trying to help you . . .”

  “Then don’t! I’m not one of your third graders. Stop treating me like a child!”

  “I’m not, I . . .”

  “Yes, you fucking are!” he shouted. “And I’m sick of it!”

  His body was coiled with anger and he prowled around the table, towering over me.

  I swallowed and leaned away from him, my whole body on high alert, hoping he wasn’t going to start breaking things.

  His eyes widened in surprise and then a sneer twisted his beautiful lips.

  “Are you scared of me, Aimee? Not such a well trained monkey now, am I?”

  So many emotions blasted through me as he hissed the ugly words.

  Hurt and anger crowded his eyes. He swore bitterly then punched the wall behind me, leaving a fist-sized hole as he strode from the apartment.

  Shaken, I didn’t call after him, and after less than a minute, I heard his motorcycle roar to life as he screeched out of the parking lot.

  Tears threatened, but I wiped them away quickly. With shaking hands, I stacked the textbooks and worksheets away, and picked his chair up off the floor, hastily removing the evidence of his fury, although I couldn’t do anything about the hole in the wall.

  I paced up and down the empty apartment for 20 minutes before I broke down and called Mirelle.

  She listened to my story without interruption.

  “I don’t know what to do?” I cried. “I was just trying to help. He’s so handicapped by his dyslexia, and I know I can improve his reading and writing. I know I can, but he won’t let me help him. What do I do? I don’t know how to handle this.”

  I heard her sigh down the phone.

  “You’re used to teaching little kids, not adults. There are bound to be differences. It must be hard for him. You know this already, but he’s trying—for you.”