Thick Love

by Eden Butler

  “You? Never.” Ransom shook his head, moving closer to graze a slow, wet kiss on my mouth. “No one this sweet, with a heart this big could be a sinner.” I licked my lips, loving how Ransom watched the movement. “Besides,” he said, his eyes moving up, “saints love sinners the most. They’re a hell of a lot more fun to try to save.”

  Ransom was everywhere just then, filling up all the spots left gaping, those worn, aching vacancies in my heart that loneliness and neglect had cut into me. No, I couldn’t be what he’d lost. And he couldn’t be the person to make me whole, but right then, on my Target sheets in that tiny loft apartment, we would take what we needed from each other; the first step in the long trek across the trench of loss and grief.

  “I don’t care about the saints, Ransom.” My legs felt heavy when I moved them so that I spread open to him, loving how his eyebrows dipped together at the brush of skin on skin. “And I’ll never ask for forgiveness for wanting you.”

  He moved his forehead against mine and his arms shook as he hovered above me. When he spoke, his gaze was serious, focused. “Please don’t ask me for things I can’t give you.” There was a little regret, a hint of fear in his tone.

  “I won’t,” I said, wishing my fingertips would clear away those worried lines in his forehead.

  “Please don’t think…” Ransom took a breath, grabbing my chin before he brushed his lips over mine, “If I could, if I was able, God, Aly, I’d give you everything.”

  A single look from Ransom could make my stomach tighten and my chest constrict. Those words from him, the look on his face telling me he meant them, made me fall deeper, had me lost further in what I felt for him. But he didn’t need me saying that. He asked for one moment when I wanted all of them. I’d take it.

  “Today, I just want this.”

  His arms did not stop shaking and the worry, the quick breath from his mouth only grew heavier as he watched me. “I haven’t done this in a while and then only with…”

  I put one finger to his lips, and shushed him in a low exhale, stopping him from mentioning her name. “Just so you know, since I can barely manage to keep myself fed, I’m on the pill. No chance of an unintentional family. And there’s only ever been one other person, so I’m clean. You don’t have to be covered. And you don’t have to be careful.”

  That laugh was quick, a little anxious, but he still managed a smile. “Aly, I have to be so careful with you.”

  He didn’t, but how would Ransom know? I was made of solid stuff, harder mettle than he’d ever understand. But I didn’t want him worried that touching me, loving me once would somehow push me away.

  This time when I touched him, Ransom didn’t flinch. This time, he seemed to enjoy the sensation.

  “I’m not going to break,” I said, wishing I didn’t mean it so much.

  “I might.”

  If he did, I’d put him back together.

  Ransom didn’t offer another excuse or lay down anymore caveats. With one look back at me, he took my leg, his hand under my knee and he held his breath, like he was jumping into a shark tank with no illusions of coming back up for air. He took his dick in his other hand and found his way to my warm entry. I felt him, poised there, ready. For a split second, time stopped. Then, with a groan, he pushed into me, and with just the twist of his hips, my entire world changed.

  “Oh…”

  It was the only coherent word I could utter.

  He moved like water over glass, rolling into me over and over, filling me, melding to me as if my body, my pussy was exactly where he belonged.

  Like he owned it.

  I was greedy for everything Ransom gave me—the loud, feral grunts slipping into my mouth as he took it, the penetrating pinch of his fingers digging into my hips, I wanted it all. And always, always, his dick sliding so deeply into me, then pulling out only to push into me yet again, and again as I raised up to meet his thrusts.

  “Fuck,” he said, as our grinding together became more frantic, and he moved his hips faster, as that grip on my hips pinched tighter and then Ransom pushed my leg up with his knee, leaning on one palm while he fisted my hair. “Aly, fuck you’re so…you’re so… you’re so damn everything…”

  I hadn’t spun this hard, felt this full ever in my life. It was Ransom, that big, looming body, the lull of his loud moans, all the sensation I’d thought would be delicious was wholly different, far more satisfying than I’d ever imagined.

  He moved his hand from my hair, pushing on the inside of my thigh to open me wider and my hands came up to his chest, scratching, gripping as I felt him deep inside, pushing me closer and closer to the edge. I was no longer thrusting against him, all I could do was open fully to him, let him take me, possess me, utterly, completely.

  “More,” I managed never wanting this to end, thinking I’d die if it did and yet feeling the building release and then Ransom moved his arm under my waist and twisted us around so that he sat up with me on top of him. “Deep, so deep.”

  And it was, so deep I felt him in my womb, and his panting breath tickled against my cheek as he took my mouth again. It wasn’t a kiss, it was an attack, brutal but so damn satisfying I thought I couldn’t take it another second. I tasted him everywhere, the sweat from his skin, that airy, sweet flavor of his breath on my mouth made me insatiable and I knew, just then, I’d never be fuller.

  “Arch, baby,” he said, pushing at the small of my back, urging me on, to let his dick push up and into me. Ransom moved my back and hips, guiding and his mouth to cover one nipple, sucking harder and harder the faster I moved on top of him and with four long, even strokes, with his dick hitting perfectly, deep inside, I came in a white hot explosion that felt as if I didn’t exist, as if all I was, was what his cock and his hands and his mouth had made me, and it went beyond something as trivial as bliss.

  As I slowly came back to myself his warm breaths sounded further away and his grip on me loosened as Ransom leaned me back against the mattress, still rocking his hips oh, so slowly, so gently, yet still touching me like he could not, would not, be free of my skin.

  The weight of him on top of me as he moved his knees between mine, the eager building of his own excitement, the growing power of his hard thrusts into me was another whole kind of bliss, a privilege and strength I had never felt before. Above me, Ransom struggled with the sensations my body had worked in him. I saw it plainly on his face, in the pinched squint of his eyes as he worked his hips faster and faster.

  “Aly…God…oh God...” He sounded so scared then, out of his element, unfamiliar with the sensation of a stranger’s body and yet so caught up in being dragged to the edge, so I touched his face again, making him relax his features and open his eyes.

  “You’re not breaking, sugar. I won’t let you.”

  That seemed to calm him, or perhaps give him permission to let go of any remnants of inhibition. His hips moved even faster, desperately, and his fingers threaded through mine over my head. His breath came in frantic pants as his climax rose, and I squeezed and wrapped around him fully urging him on. Then, with a strangled roar, he buried his head on my shoulder and his body shuddered against mine, over and over, as he came hard, deeply, so deeply into me. I could feel his dick convulse at my core, spilling deep into my body, and my huge, beautiful, strong Ransom fell apart, raw, real, exposed as he came.

  He didn’t let go. He rolled to his side, still clinging to me, still inside of me, the slick brush of our bodies like a balm neither of us wanted to clean away, and I let him keep me close, I craved his continued closeness. I cradled him in my arms, and let him bury his face in my chest and hold his arm around my waist like I was his, like he was mine even if it was only make believe. Even if in the morning, the fairy tale would end.

  20

  I didn’t know how this was supposed to go.

  Normal college guys probably slept with a girl and tried to run out on her as quickly as they could. But I wasn’t most assholes slipping into some girl’s place
to fuck her and leave. And Aly King was sure as hell not most girls. I’d lain next to her for a solid hour before I tried getting up. I managed it despite my large body tousling her on the mattress. Turns out, Aly sleeps like the dead.

  The bathroom was obnoxiously small with a stand up shower I knew I’d never fit in and a pedestal sink I had to bend completely over to use. I hurried through my piss and cleaning my face, stealing a bit of her toothpaste to swish around in my mouth before I could make up my mind about leaving.

  By the time I left that nothing bathroom, I’d almost decided leaving was probably the best decision, but then a step toward her on the bed, toward my clothes thrown across her dresser and the smell of her skin, the collection of our scents came right at me. It was better than Christmas cookies right out of the oven. To me, that smell was better than Bobby’s Sunday dinner roast.

  That scent and the sight of her dead asleep with her wavy hair curled across her face, arm stretched over her head so that one dark nipple peeked out from that scratchy white sheet, had me paralyzed. It had me remembering what it felt like to be inside her. It reminded me that her mouth on my stomach, my skin between her teeth, had bashed away the biting voice that had kept me pathetic company for over a year.

  Aly made me feel like I was alive. Aly just made me feel. How the hell could I walk away from that?

  She didn’t move when I slipped to the foot of the bed or when I pulled back the sheets, exposing that perfect, round ass. Aly didn’t wake or try to get away from my fingers running along the curve of her ass, up to those two small dimples just below her waist. She only moaned, a sleepy, hungry sound when I ran my tongue up that sweet, perfect pussy.

  She’d given me a taste last night, one that I’d craved since she took me over and I followed her lead. I wanted to thank her for silencing that bitter voice. But even more, I wanted to get lost in the taste of her, in the feel of her skin on my tongue.

  So, I did.

  She arched against my mouth as I feasted on her, letting my tongue dive deep, spreading her apart from behind slowly. Those sleepy sounds she made got louder the longer I ate her, the quicker I moved my tongue against that soft clit. And when I settled closer, when I brought my hand up her leg and moved it over my head to get deeper still, Aly’s voice lost that incoherent, sleepy tone completely.

  Then, that sweet, fierce, beautiful woman started cursing like she was trying to invent a new language.

  “Oh, ah… kòkòt mwen! Fuck, Ransom…fuck, that modi is so…fuck…”

  Yes, it was and I didn’t stop, loving how soft, how damn warm she was, how she squeezed against my tongue, my fingers when I slipped two inside. I reached for that spot, exploring the tight contours, the ridges of her warm heat until I found it, until Aly pulled on my hair, until I pushed her closer with one hand under that supple ass and the other busy moving inside her.

  And then, Aly shouted another list of filthy, erotic words and I felt her come in my mouth and took everything she gave me, riding the wave as I kept my lips and tongue on her, moving with her when she bucked her hips off the mattress.

  She was tangy, she was delicious, still, it wasn’t enough and I began to think nothing ever would be, not with her, not ever again.

  She kept her eyes closed, hand flat on her chest as she came down from her orgasm and I slipped behind her, rolling her boneless body against me until my dick slid between her cheeks. She felt good, soft and warm and so damn wet that slipping inside that tight pussy was easier than dancing, easier than breath and just as perfect, just as natural.

  “Ransom,” she breathed, moving on my dick like it would feed her, like our bodies together was the end and beginning and she craved both.

  “Look how you fit me, baby.” She did, like two pieces of a puzzle. The top of her head came to my chin, and her curled legs, that sweet round ass fit against me like her body had been made as my perfect parallel. Hand and glove, me and Aly. It was the same, perfectly the same. My thoughts only went as far as her slamming back against my dick as I took her, the feel of her clit under my fingertip when I reached around to touch her and how her skin tasted on my tongue when I kissed her shoulder. “This body was made for mine, Aly.”

  I meant it then, not thinking what that would mean to her, if it would mean anything at all. The sensation numbed my mind, her beautiful skin, the soft texture of her hair, the smell of our sweat mixing together—that’s as far as my thoughts went. And when I pulled her up, urging her to her knees in front of me, even those thoughts left me.

  “Ransom, anmourèz mwen,” she breathed, pushing back, not letting me control without doing a little demanding herself. God, how I loved that about her. Aly would not be manipulated and she fucked me because she wanted me, she took me even though it was my hand on her hip, my fingers digging into her shoulder. “Harder, baby, do it harder.”

  “Anything, anything you want.” I drove in deeper, watching my dick sliding in and out of her, working my stomach muscles, my thighs until they ached, loving how drunk the sensations around me had me feeling. That sweet, tight body, the sweat, the sounds of us slapping together, it all left me stunned and sated and so damn eager to finish, helpless because I never wanted it to stop.

  That’s when the memories shuffled sideways into the sensation like a specter sneaking behind shadows to keep hidden. They wanted to strike, to leak into my thoughts at the right moment. And they did. My defenses were down, and they saw how I was a little blind, a little numb to what was happening around me, all except for Aly open to me. They snuck in when I wasn’t expecting them, as I moved inside Aly—beautiful, sweet Aly who cared what happened to me, who had cared for years, Aly who loved my family, who they loved, whose heart I was petrified of breaking—and suddenly it was the memory that crippled me. It was Emily’s memory, her body, her heart that I could not stop seeing.

  It was her name I called out as I came.

  “Em…oh God…”

  There was no sound then. No sweet thrust of our bodies because she had stopped moving. Because I had the second I closed my mouth. The name was out there, right in the room with us and I felt the hush of silence and wanted it to end. Empty. That’s what I felt. That was the sensation that blanketed over me, had my orgasm stopping when Aly pushed me away. There was shock, rage on her face, in the dip of her mouth and that bright shine in her eyes.

  Hurt and heartache right there in her features and I put them both there.

  “Aly…”

  “Non,” she said, shuffling off the bed before I could reach her. “Just…no.”

  What the hell did I just do?

  She was covering herself, hiding from me, pulling on her t-shirt, stepping into her shorts before I left the bed. Aly headed for the bathroom. I knew what she wanted. Distance, separation from me and I didn’t blame her. But my legs would not stop moving, my hands wouldn’t lower from her arms. My hands would not keep away from her face even when she struggled against me, even when she cried out. “Don’t touch me! Non. No, Ransom!”

  I wasn’t hurting her, I knew that. I knew it. If Aly wanted, I’d be disabled with a knee to my balls. But the moment was heavy with tension, with sadness and hate and bitterness and not all of it came from me. Not all of it was solely internal. She was hating herself too.

  “Aly, please, please, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say…”

  “Shut up. Just…please… lage’m, let go of me, Ransom…”

  But I couldn’t, not when I needed her. Not when I was desperate for her not to hate me.

  “Please,” I told her, pinning her to the wall, keeping her shaking head still with my palms on her cheeks and my forehead against hers. “I am so sorry. I was with you, Aly, I promise. I was only with you. I wanted you. Just you.”

  She stopped struggling, but the tears came anyway and when Aly closed her eyes, when her chin wobbled and her nostrils flared as she fought to keep herself from sobbing, I took her against my chest, my skin wet, my fingers tight in her hair.

&n
bsp; “It will always be like this, won’t it?” I closed my eyes at her question, wishing she didn’t need to ask it.

  “I don’t know.” She stiffened in my arms and my stomach got tight. I didn’t want her pushing away from me, giving up before anything real could begin. “I’m sorry, Aly. I don’t want it to be like this. I don’t want to…”

  I felt her nod, a small gesture meant to shut me up. “Ransom,” she started, stepping away from my body. “Have you…have you told anyone about this? About what you’ve been feeling?”

  “I don’t do that, Aly.” It was honest. That wasn’t something I deserved. The pain, all of it, it was mine to bear. I created it, I would carry it. My embarrassment, my shame at calling out Emily’s name wouldn’t let me step away from Aly and I didn’t, though I could guess where she was going with her question. “I never have. Music, football, those are my only releases.”

  “But you said you hadn’t played in a while and you play football for a free ride to college, right?”

  There were still tears clinging to her lashes and I let them distract me, rubbed them away with the pad of my thumb. “Basically.”

  “Ransom.” Aly held my hand, pulling my fingers from her face so I would look at her. “Do you want to try this with me? Really try?”

  No matter what I’d said, how I’d acted in the past, my body and brain hadn’t let me stay clear of Aly. I wanted her. “More than anything,” I told her, kissing her before she could refuse me again. “More than any damn thing.”

  She nodded, holding my face away from her when I tried to touch her again. It was her eyes though that kept me still. They had returned to green hazel and were bright, a little tired, but still alight, searching my face. Whatever Aly hoped to find in my expression, I prayed it would calm her, would have her heart softened, her forgiveness pouring over me.