He set to work dismantling and removing the winch system. He loosened his tie, and rolled up his sleeves, exposing powerful forearms. He began shoveling the dirt into cover the casket. Eventually the tie came off, followed by his dress shirt. Shovel-full by shovel-full, Ares filled in Craig’s grave. The air smelled of fresh dirt, damp and musty. Ares’s slacks were dusty and brown with dirt, his shoes as well. His once white under shirt was grey with sweat and soil.
While Ares worked, I strolled over to our driver. I asked if he could maybe find us some bottles of water, and maybe an apple or banana. He returned from his errand hours before Ares finished.
Covered in grime and sweat. Ares sat with a thud. I handed him a bottle of water, he drained it. He waved off the apple I offered, but took a second bottle of water. Without saying a word, he took his shirt and jacket, then extended his hand to me. Hand in hand we made our way over to the driver and the car.
“Take us to the Evans’s house,” was all Ares said as he climbed into the back of the car.
In the car he changed out of the grimy undershirt, and put the dress shirt back on. It molded itself to his sweaty back.
I was briefly introduced to Craig’s mother and widow upon arrival at the house. Ares bowed his head to Craig’s mother, and I left them deep in emotional conversation. I drifted away from their private grief and into the dining room area. There had been plenty of food, and some older women, neighbors I guessed, were packing it away into freezer storage containers. I overheard one of them commenting on our overly late arrival, and the state of Ares’s dress. I was instantly angry with this person, and I didn’t even know who had said it. I spun, prepared to chew them out. Before I had a chance to confront the group, Ares came and took my hand and we left.
He didn’t speak beyond telling the driver return directions to his flat. Once home he got out of the car and headed straight in through the door. I had expected some sort of action along these lines, so I was prepared with a tip for the driver.
I expected Ares to head upstairs and get drunk. I did not expect the passionate attack when I walked in. Ares must have stopped just inside the door and gone no further. No sooner had I closed the door when I was engulfed in his arms, his lips covered mine. His tongue plunged into my mouth, trying to consume and crawl into me all at once. Lust and need rolled off of him in waves, covering me, coating me. I responded instantly and consumed his kisses. I grappled at buttons and zippers as he lifted me and braced my back against the front door. I had one leg hooked over his arm, the other found support on the bike.
My panties were ripped from me as they gave way to Ares’s passionate strength. As sexy as it sounds to have your panties ripped off in a fit of passion, it is not. It not only ruins perfectly good underwear, it hurt as the elastic bit into the flesh on my hip before finally giving way. It left a mark.
Ares thrust into me with no ceremony, it was immediate and intense. Surprisingly, my body was hungry for what he was giving. It wasn’t about romance, or passion, it was proof that we were both still alive, both still flesh. It was rough and pounding and satisfying in its life confirming need. After his aggressive thrusts, it seemed like it was over as fast as it had started.
Ares eased me down, and fixed his pants.
He mumbled, “I’m sorry,” as he made his way up the stairs.
I pushed down my skirt, picked up the few things I dropped, found the shoe I lost, and made my way up after him. I went straight to the bathroom. A long day at the cemetery makes for a full bladder, and the pounding mine just took, I was happy to have successfully made it to the toilet.
The panties were trashed. I changed into my standard comfy cargo pants and T-shirt. Ares sat on the couch, he hadn’t changed. I sat next to him.
“I’m sorry,” he mumbled again as he took my hand.
“I was participating, you know.” Not sure why he was apologizing.
“No condom.” He shook his head.
“Yeah, I noticed. Timing should be okay. Nothing should have happened.” I mentally counted the days in my cycle, yeah, it should be okay.
“Would it really be so bad to have my baby?”
I wasn’t sure where that had come from. It was already enough for me to deal with his grief. To add this right now, it was too much.
“Now is not the time to discuss this.” I reached up to push the hair from his face, he lost the ponytail at some point in the car. I know his hair was down minutes earlier in his ferocity, but everything before that I remember a ponytail.
He surprised me and lay down putting his head in my lap. I stroked his hair away from his face. I smoothed his brow, it was dirty with smudges of dried sweat and earth, so was his cheek and his neck. He was filthy, and he smelled like sweaty man. He had shoveled dirt in the warm sun, in a suit, he was dirty and smelly. It was interesting that I only now noticed.
I studied the broad shape of his brow, the thick black eyebrows, and his long black lashes. He stared off into space. His face was calmer than it had been previously all day, less brooding. But he was still weighed down by the burden of his grief. It hurt to see him in so much pain. There was nothing I could do. I poured thoughts of love into every stroke of his hair, but I had no means of lightening his grief.
I curled over his head and kissed his face, whatever part of his cheek I could reach. “I would eat your pain if I could.” I whispered.
His eyes shifted to peer at me.
“Sweetie, you don’t have to be the big silent type, it’s not normal for you. Yell, scream, cry. It’s okay to cry.”
He didn’t make a sound, he clamped his eyes shut, and as he had a hitch in his breathing the tears came. He gripped my knee and rolled his face into my leg. He never did make a sound, but his body was wracked with sobs.
I sat and smoothed his hair. Eventually his breathing evened out and he started snoring. I stayed for a while longer, until my abused bladder protested, and I had to get up. I gave him a pillow, and took off his dirt covered shoes, and let the sleeping giant lie.
I ordered pizza and let Ares finish his nap.
The pizza guy arrived while Ares was in the shower. I handed him cash, including the tip and he handed me three large pizzas. He made some comment about how hungry I must be, and I commented on my lack of two liter bottle of Coke. He dashed back to his car, and returned with my Coke. He made one last attempt at witless banter, and I closed the door. Was he trying to flirt and really bad at it? Was he trying to flirt, and I just didn’t get it, or was he just a naturally chatty dork? Considering I was the latter, I decided he must be one too, a chatty dork.
I had the bottle balanced on top of the pizza boxes. I successfully made it up the stairs when Ares walked out from the bathroom. I don’t think I will ever tire of watching that man just out of the shower. He had the towel wrapped low around his hips, emphasizing his v-shaped torso. Mourning his long-time friend or not, he was still a sight of beauty. Well chiseled bone structure guaranteed his face would be beautiful smiling or frowning. Seeing him in a towel like that effected my balance, no matter that I’d seen it before. Fortunately he was close enough to catch the bottle and offer a stabilizing hand on my back before disaster and a soda bomb hit.
I set up the pizza and soda dinner while Ares finished dressing. He returned fully dressed, and in an army surplus jacket.
“I’m going for a walk,” he announced.
“Here.” I handed him a large slice. “Take this, you need to eat.”
With both hands he brushed his hair back from his brow, then he took the piece and folded the pizza into his mouth.
He left.
I went to the window to watch him walking away down the street, with his wet hair causing a dark wet mark on the back of his jacket.
Seventeen
I sat on the end of the bed rubbing my feet. I couldn’t believe I spent the entire evening wearing those shoes. I may have looked good— but damn my toes were numb.
We had dinner with Pat Fuller and his wif
e. They took us to a rather posh Hollywood hot spot. I felt like I didn’t belong mixed in with all the glamour and beautiful people. Ares’s beauty and fierceness let him dominate all settings he was in. He didn’t fit in, he ruled. I, on the other hand, was a complete poser. I wore the black skirt I wore to the funeral, this time paired with a plain black T-shirt, and the red heels. I was having a good hair night, big and lots of curls. Ares was in all black, trousers, button down shirt, vest. He was a cross between dapper and intimidating, and completely sexy.
Pat’s wife had a rule for when they took business contacts out to dinner, no discussing work. Pat and Ares spent several hours in the afternoon already doing that, while I was left on my own in LA. For the record, LA is entirely too big to properly see as a tourist in just three hours. There was no way I could fit in a studio tour of any kind, or even make it to the beach. Instead, I took myself to the Los Angeles County Museum of Art. It was a nice way to spend my afternoon, and I wasn’t sulking in the hotel room alone.
It turned out that Pat wanted to talk to Ares about composing and recording for movie soundtracks. Ares originally assumed the soundtracks they were going to be discussing were for a big scale action video game. Craig had worked on writing for the more epic adventure video games for years. This move toward film was news to Ares.
Scoring soundtracks, bigger pieces than a three minute song had been a life goal. He liked the idea when he thought it was for video games, he was thrilled by the prospect of writing for movies. He tried to contain his enthusiasm, but I could tell by the sparkle in his eye and the way he moved, this was something he wanted. If he were a puppy, his whole body would be wiggling trying to wag his tail hard enough.
Dinner discussion ran the gamut from my visit to the museum to the tragedy of Craig’s accident. I kept my hand on Ares thigh the entire time for support. He was good. He didn’t get angry, he didn’t become morose. He kept it brief and cut it off by mentioning it was too fresh to discuss in detail. I don’t think I could have been so diplomatic regarding such a fresh wound.
I was slightly embarrassed when Pat’s wife assumed that when I talked about my children that they were also Ares’s children. I guess he contributed enough information, and clearly liked my girls enough that he made it sound like they were his. Ares explained that, no we didn’t have children together, yet. In fact we were still fairly early in our relationship. I loved that he said we were in a relationship and not dating. And it made me happy but nervous when he said ‘yet’ regarding having children together.
The dinner had been pleasant and not overly long. Which was good, I wanted to spend my last night with Ares and a bed.
“Do you want a bath?” Ares called from the bathroom.
“Oh, please.” The tub was huge and the thought of sinking my poor toes into its hot depths was alluring.
Ares dried his hands on a towel as he walked into the main room. His dress shirt was untucked and unbuttoned, and the belt to his pants was undone. That man in any state of dress or undress was yummy.
He sat on the ornate side chair and leaned over to remove his shoes. He threw them across the room, and they landed with two loud thuds. I reached up behind me to undo the zipper on the skirt, then pulled my shirt off over my head. I heard Ares hum.
I swished my butt at him, and he chuckled. With my back to him I unclipped my bra and slowly turned around as I removed it.
He leaned back into the chair, his shirt was completely off, and his slacks were unzipped and open. He rubbed his chest and captured a pink nipple between two of his long fingers. His other hand massaged his groin.
“What are you doing?” I raised my eyebrows at him.
“Watching the best show in town,” he growled.
“Well, if it’s a show then I had better put my dancing shoes back on.” I made a spectacle of putting the red pumps back on. I leaned over keeping my bottom high, Ares made a throaty growling sound. I slipped, actually, I forcefully wedged, my feet back into the shoes. My toes may have been complaining earlier, but right now I hardly noticed if I had toes at all. I was too keenly aware of Ares and the promise of sex.
I slowly stood back up and sashayed my way over to Ares in the chair. His shorts were parted and his considerable length emerged through the fly. He stroked himself, and stared at me. I really had no idea what I was doing, making it up as I went. He was going to get one hell of a chair dance, well my idea of a chair dance.
I pushed his legs apart and stood between them. I spun slowly in place, reaching up into the air over my head and turned around. I sank down and grabbed the top of his slacks, then I pulled them back and down his legs. He grabbed and massaged my bottom.
I squatted down and turned back around. I put my hands on his knees then pushed back up, leaning into him and grazing my breasts against his cock and up his abs and chest, I moved my hands walking up his sides and rested them on his shoulders. I stood, did another slow turn, and pulled his shorts off his legs.
I straddled his legs one at a time pulling them together, so that I stood over him. Even with the shoes I wasn’t tall enough to sink down and impale myself, I needed some hands on assistance from Ares. He eased into me, and we both sighed. We rocked together. He had one hand on my hips and with the other he rubbed circles around my clit with his thumb. I ground into him. It felt so hot and wet and smooth and slick and that’s when I realized something was missing. I fell forward onto his chest.
“Condom,” I said, with not too little concern. I pushed myself up and back. Ares stopped moving, he held my hips still and in place, still mounted on him.
“You said timing should be okay. What’s different about tonight than from the other day?” He cocked an eyebrow at me.
“You were a train wreck then. Could you have stopped? No. One accident can happen. Tonight would be willful recklessness. I don’t want to get pregnant. And yes, a few days can make a difference.” I wished men understood female physiology better.
“But I want to put a baby in you.” He gave a thrust, then he placed his hand on my tummy, fingers splayed apart. It was large and warm and spread over me. And it wasn’t just a hand on my middle— it was want and love, and it hit me like a bag of bricks.
“Oh.” Oh shit. “Um, that’s… wow. Ah, okay. Um…”
“You aren’t saying no.” A smile pulled at his lips.
“Not exactly, but I’m not saying yes either.” I felt him slip out of me, but I still didn’t move.
“What, you don’t want to be the mother of my children? I thought you loved me.” His voice was getting tight with building frustration.
“Now, that’s a low blow, Ares. I do love you. I’m not up to having more babies right now, even if I do like the idea of having yours.” I didn’t know what else to say. I shook my head, trying to align my thoughts. “To bring another baby home, I would have to discuss this with the girls.”
“It’s not really their choice, is it?” His voice dropped and was now low and tinged with a growl.
“No, but I’m not going to be someone’s baby momma. A divorced, single mother of three or four small children, all with different fathers. No. I don’t want baby daddies or glorified sperm donors. No.”
“Well, it certainly sounds like you’re saying no,” he snapped.
I just stared at his face. I didn’t know how to tell him what I was really feeling, what I was thinking. All he heard was ‘no baby’. There was more, but what I was able to express was just one small part of it. I really wasn’t exactly sure myself.
“I am now.” I reached back pulled the shoes off and swung my leg back and over. I threw the shoes across the room and I went and sank into the tub.
I curled up, hugging my knees. The water was hot, but it did nothing to soothe my inner turmoil. Did I love him enough, was I strong enough to raise more kids with another absentee father? He would be an absentee father with all the touring he did. Could I be the kind of woman to have multiple babies with multiple fathers and not be married
to any of them? I didn’t sign up to be a single mother when I had Cassidy and Bree. It wasn’t something I really had in my life plans. I didn’t feel like I was succeeding at it very well. And those were only the thoughts I could nail down. The rest were a bubbling turmoil cauldron of goo. My thoughts surfaced half formed before sinking back under the surface of recognition. I wasn’t crying, I wasn’t fading, I just felt lost. The hottest man in the world loved me and wanted to give me a baby and I didn’t know what to think.
He moved so quietly, I didn’t hear him until he slipped into the tub behind me, sliding me forward. He wrapped himself around me. One arm held me while the other brushed my hair. He eased my head back onto his shoulder. I heard his breathing and felt his chest move against my back. I closed my eyes, and wished for an easy answer.
“I said something stupid, didn’t I?” I could feel his voice rumble through his chest.
I didn’t respond.
“I say stupid things without thinking all the time, and people let me get away it. I don’t want you to let me get away with it. I won’t know what I said that was stupid if you don’t tell me. I can’t fix my stupid when I don’t know what my stupid was.”
I sighed. I didn’t know how to tell him what I was thinking. I barely knew myself. I was a single mother with two small children. I couldn’t support myself. I felt like I was barely able to take care of the girls with the child support I did get. I don’t know if I could handle or even manage a third one on my own. I got no support or help from Richard other than money. Any emotion I had for him quickly turned to animosity when I realized I was parenting on my own. And that was even before the divorce. I didn’t want that with Ares. I didn’t want my love for him to turn to resentment.
I couldn’t get my jaw to move. The words were stuck in my throat. I just wanted him to hold me and magically understand.
Ballad Ares Page 16
