The Right Direction

by Kathy Coopmans

  “Jesus, Joslyn. You can’t say that kind of shit to me and expect me to sit through this conference with images of my cock in your mouth.” I try to keep my breathing steady; it’s a difficult task when he’s around.

  Now that Monday morning has arrived, he’s leaving with Dean and Marcus to pick up the other guys at the airport. And as we stand here getting ready to say good-bye, the tears start rolling down my face.

  I feel sad over everything that life is throwing at the two of us at once. Sadness is something I never understood. Why do we feel sadness, guilt, shame, or anything for that matter, about something which has already happened? And yet we do. It’s inevitable not to. It drives people to do stupid things. Things we regret. Things we can never take back.

  Unfortunately, I can’t seem to help it; it's like being stabbed in the heart over and over with life’s tortuous mishaps without dying. I know this to be true because I’ve felt this way before. I remember the tears which stung my eyes and bruised my soul; the deafening screams over losing my baby which still haunt me today. But with Dean, I can’t begin to fathom the pain that man must endure on a daily basis. It rips me in half.

  A little while ago, my whole life made sense. I knew exactly what I was doing, where I was going, and how I was going to spend my time. This week has reversed the direction in which my life was going because the woman who walked out this door is not the same woman who walked back in. I have a long way to go before I feel whole. A part of me was missing since the day Roman left all those years ago, and another part of me is hopefully going to fill the hole of finally having a family once the initial shock I’m sure Alex will experience wears off.

  Not only did Roman and I get well reacquainted with each other. I’ve made some calls to set up a conference call with the base’s commanding officer next week when he returns from wherever he is. I think having to wait so long to be able to see him is catching up with me. Even though I didn’t know he existed, it seems like I’ve waited a lifetime to meet him, yet here I am still waiting.

  I dare to hope that the tiny ray of light from my dreaded past guides me into a future filled with brightness and smiles, not tears and sadness.

  “Stop beating yourself up over what happened between you and me, damn it. We have a future you should be thinking about. What happened with Dean was hard. It still is. I felt you needed to know.” Roman takes my hands in his, pulling me into his solid chest. The voices in my head die down from his words alone. I rest my head on his chest and soak him in. I don’t think I’ll ever tire of being in this man’s arms.

  We’ve done so much talking this weekend that I’m all talked out. Roman has been trying to convince me that our years lost weren’t my fault, while I tried to convince him of the same. I believe I’ll always have a hard time forgiving myself for being weak all those years ago, for not following through with pulling myself together and getting out here to start a life with him. Especially after learning more on how the band tours, their schedule, and that they’ll be taking a few months off before they start recording their next album. I’ll live with the guilt of years lost for the rest of my life. However, living with the blame, the humiliation, and the heartbreak that I could have prevented is slightly better now that we’re working things out.

  I feel as if I’ve been poked all over my body with invisible holes that have drained all my burdens away as I pull away and gaze into his chocolate-colored, forgiving eyes. Eyes so full of love for me that the conclusion is quite simple. All this time I’ve actually been mourning him. Sometimes the memory of him made me sad because no one understood my life better than he did. I carried the heaviness of losing him in my bones as well as my heart. And now, even though I’m sad, I’m the happiest I’ve been for more reasons than I’m not.

  Happy is how I’ll feel when he walks out the door to go do his job. Even though he’s going to be away from me for the next couple of days, I know for the rest of my life he's all mine and that he’ll come home to me. Knowing this lights up those darkened thoughts I’ve kept hidden on the inside, gives me peace and serenity I’ve never known before. It's like the breaths I’ve taken weren’t full when he wasn’t near. Like the smiles I smiled were all fake just to appease the person I was with so they wouldn’t worry I was going to fall apart at any minute and leave them wondering what in the hell was going on.

  It’s irony at its best that Roman sensed all of that in me, too.

  Roman may have a dirty mouth he uses to express the way he feels, but those words warm my soul, fill me with love, and they will keep the fire burning while he’s gone.

  “Let me make a few things clear here. If anyone is lucky, it’s me. You’re the miracle, Joslyn, because I haven’t stopped thanking God every day for not only bringing you back into my life but for giving me the strength in letting you keep on going with the shit you have to face all alone. And you aren’t nor will you ever be a groupie. You’re the woman I don’t want to live without. The woman who is naked underneath her robe, her bare pussy way too close to my dick, and you’re the only woman who knows the real me.” His words have me choking back a heartfelt sob. I want to ruffle his feathers a tad more about the groupie thing but think better of it when I see how serious he is.

  "Neither one of us is alone anymore, Roman. We’ll never be again. Let's not say anything more. Just promise me you’ll stop worrying about me. We both have work to do. We can do this. No matter what happens. No matter how tough it gets or what life throws at us. Now, go before Marcus beats down my door. I’ll call you later.”

  After getting to know Grim a little bit over the weekend, whose first impression makes you want to run in the opposite direction because of how massive he is when he’s really nothing but a big sweetheart, Roman and I spent the rest of the weekend talking. Trying to figure out how we would see each other this week. I have court this morning, a few depositions to go over with Chad. We may have had sex all weekend, but it’s way too early to be spending every waking moment together. Regardless if I want to or not.

  “You better, and for fuck’s sake, don’t go out in public without Grim, or I’ll be forced to punish you, and it won’t be for pleasure.” That’s something he doesn’t have to worry about. He holds me close while wiping the moisture from my tears away. They just continue to fall, and I don’t know why.

  Of all the influential conversations we’ve had over the past week, it’s apparent that talking about not seeing each other until Wednesday is the most important one to both of us. Forgiveness has got to remain a thing of the past. Guilt has to be buried. But the idea of not seeing him brings back memories that sting, and I know now after being alone with him without the television, no Internet except for us searching who I needed to contact to see my brother, that this is something we have to do in order to make us stronger.

  “I won’t,” I assure in a soft voice. His steady gaze indicates he means it. Both the going off on my own and the punishment. I'm sore in all the right places, but the way he grabs hold of my ass and pulls me into his prominent erection has my legs quivering to jump him and let him take me quickly up against the door. “Your punishments lead to pleasure, Mister Nixon.” I reach down and cup him through his jeans. A slow groan escapes his mouth as he presses every inch of him into my hand.

  Lowering his lips to brush lightly across mine, he excites me with his next words, “I’ll be taking you up on that offer when we go out Friday night. I want your lips painted in red, your pussy uncovered, your body in a tight dress, because by the end of the night, you’ll be sinking to your knees and begging to wrap those lips around my cock.”

  On that, his phone pings. If I were wearing panties, they would be soaked by now. “You better go. Have a good day with your friends.” My words are coming out breathlessly. I clench my thighs, lean up, and give him one last kiss, smiling as I do, before I remove my hand and place it on his chest. I gently push him out the door as he cusses up a storm. I close it on a heavy sigh. The weight of him leaving no lo
nger weighing heavy on my heart.

  Once I lock the door, I wrap my arms around my stomach and hold on tight. My body shakes in an effort to allow what he said to filter through my body.

  “He wants to go out,” I mutter. My mind is easing with excitement, my body trembling with the need only he can fulfill, and now as I glance at the clock and try to pull myself together, I realize I need to get a move on, or I’m going to be excessively late for work.

  I push off the door and make my way to the bathroom, where I splash cold water on my face, apply my makeup, and do everything I can not to look as if I’ve been bawling my eyes out. I have court this morning, and the last thing I need is to present myself in front of the same judge who presided over Roman’s case appearing frazzled.

  Once I’m finished, I grab my briefcase and head for the door. I take one last look around and smile as the memories of this weekend clear the fog in my head. “Everything is going to be fine,” I mutter, open the door, and greet Grim, who is standing in front of the elevator with his arms crossed over his chest.

  “Good morning, Grim,” I say when I approach him.

  “Morning, darling. You all set?” he asks, takes my bag, and leads me into the elevator.

  “I am. Are you?” Good heavens, he is tall. I have to crane my neck to look up at him.

  “Used to this kind of shit. Between these assholes and groupies, I tend to tune them out.” I inwardly laugh and cringe when I think about all the women who probably chase Roman down. Not once when Roman and I were together when we were kids was I jealous, and I’m not now, but I can’t help but think of him talking dirty and doing the things he did with me with random women. It makes my stomach roll.

  “I’m not sure if I will ever get used to it,” I say as the elevator doors slide open and we step into the garage. I follow him past my car, sighing in thanks that Grim went to pick it up for me as I slide in the back seat of what appears to be a different car.

  “You will. Once they realize you won’t give them anything, they’ll move on. Trust me.” Right. It’s been over two weeks now, and they are still hawking over us waiting to swoop down. Assholes.

  I hope he’s right, though, because if they do anything to try and hurt Roman or anyone affiliated to Trained in Black, I won’t be held accountable for my actions.

  “You’re really going to sit there and not tell me a thing about this weekend?” Caroline probes, eyeing me suspiciously from across the table. I called her on my way to work this morning to see if she wanted to have lunch today instead of tomorrow as we had planned. I meant what I said about going about my usual routine, and having lunch at the Griddle Café once a week is one of many things she and I do. We love this bustling place. And apparently, so do the lurkers standing on the other side of the fence with their long, angled cameras pointing in my direction. I’m not afraid of what they’ll do since we’re out in public. I’m not afraid at all. I just don’t like them looking at me. One of them could be him, and I wouldn’t even know it.

  “It’s been a wonderful couple of days. I won in court. I have a call I’m excited to make even though I have to wait a week to make it. I’m hoping my brother will like me. Roman and I are going out Friday night, and I’m feeling so much better thanks to you,” I murmur softly, observing her reaction over the top of my sunglasses. She needs to keep her voice down. Knowing them, I wouldn’t be surprised if they had microphones attached to the end of those stupid things. I take the last bite of my salad and push the plate off to the side. I’d love nothing more than to stand up and search for the bastard who hurt me. I’d love to tell them to go talk to Gwen. I’m sure she would give them any filthy lie they want to hear.

  After only a few members of the paparazzi hounding me this morning, winning the nasty custody case, receiving the news and relaying it to Roman that the district attorney’s office dropped the charges on him, my day has been perfect. And then Grim and I walked the two blocks without anyone bothering me to meet my nosy friend, who won’t quit badgering me about my weekend. We were sitting here for no longer than five minutes before a rush of cameras attacked us from all over the place. I find it funny and pathetic, as long as they stay on the other side of the fence anyway.

  “Really? Did he say where you were going?” she asks tentatively, voice lowering as if she could read my mind.

  “No. I’m going to wear that black dress I bought a few weeks ago regardless.” I’m glad I have my glasses on so she can’t see my eyes glaze over as I remember what he said.

  “That dress will drive him crazy. You know, I give the guy credit for staking his claim and not hiding. You, too, especially after what happened. I mean, look at them. I don’t understand any of this at all. There has to be a law on stalking or something.”

  “There is and there isn’t, if that makes sense. If you want to spend the time going after them for taking your photograph, you can. First, you’d have to prove they were compensated if it was published. It would be a fiasco, if you asked me. There is no law that states that the paparazzi are not allowed to take photographs of people. Look at all the pictures of celebrities when they are with their families, on vacations, concerts, or walking down the street. If there were, I’d dare to say the media would find some way to get around it.” I shrug. I really don’t care anymore. “I think I’ll keep the rest of my weekend to myself, thank you very much,” I toss out hoping for a cease-fire on the subject. Talking about them gives me a headache, and they are not worth my time.

  She’s not even close to being done when she narrows her eyes and mutters, “Bitch, you got laid, and you know it.” She sits back in her chair smirking. “I wonder if they can read lips.” I bust out laughing.

  “I’m sure they can.” I’m not about to tell her I remember his firm grip on my hair, his hands touching me everywhere, and the way he sparked my body to life from the time he laid me down on my bed the second we walked through my door until the time he left. The man had me surrender to his every command without putting up a fight. After the first time he fucked me, I gave up on trying to be the one in control. It’s a lost cause. About as lost as I feel without him. Nope, I’m not telling her anything at all.

  “Fine, you don’t want to tell me, then I’m going to give you my rundown of how your weekend went being that the bulge the man had in his pants was the size of Texas when I walked into his kitchen the other day. I have a pretty damn good idea he fucked you long and hard all weekend, and you gave him several blowjobs, this all being why you're sitting there with your legs crossed and you ordered a salad instead of a burger because it’s easier to chew when your jaw hurts. How’s that for an answer?”

  “Oh, my God, Caroline. Were you looking at his package? I should slap you for that.” I laugh and shove her shoulder instead of whacking her upside the head. The one thing I didn’t do was suck him dry. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to; it was because he was busy doing what he wanted to do with my body. Tuning me up the way he wanted me before he took me time and time again.

  I exhale dramatically, my thoughts immediately traveling back to being spread out on my bed; my body dripping with desire and those hooded eyes of his all melted down into deep, dark chocolate, heated pools that hovered above me while he stroked his cock and came all over my breasts. The palm of his hand as red as my ass from him spanking me before he fucked me with his tongue. His huffs of breath as he pumped into me vigorously. The way he nipped at my ear when he told me there would come a day soon when he was going to take my ass with his dick while fucking my pussy with his fingers. The heat multiplies to burning between my crossed legs. I shift in my seat, and my face flushes. Sweat forms in between my breasts.

  “See? I knew it. I know you're thinking about him now. It’s a damn good thing you aren’t directly in front of the cameras; your face is as red as those tomatoes you just popped into your mouth. I’m so happy for you,” she whispers, eyes filled with tears.

  “Shut up. Seriously, it’s hard to believe, Caroline. I do
n’t know what to think. Everything is happening too fast, but I’m going to go with it and see to it this time that it ends where it’s supposed to.”

  “Is Mr. Tall, dark, and delicious over there doing his best to block the view of the cameras your new bodyguard?” She changes the subject, eyes casting toward Grim. I know she’s questioning out of curiosity, yet for some unknown reason, tension begins to coat my stomach. I don’t know why her asking me that concerns me. It’s as if I feel some sort of dangerous intuition passing through me. It so strong it nearly knocks me out of my chair.

  “He is, and his name is Grim. He’s six foot six, and he hates those idiots more than I do.”

  “I’d love to give him something to love on. Would you look at those arms? Has he shown you all of his tattoos? Oh, and look at the way he watches those people as if he’s waiting for them to make one wrong move. If I didn’t love you so much, I might kick your ass for being surrounded by all those sexy men. He is hot as fuck.” I wouldn’t know. There’s only one man taking up space in my head, and he should be winding up his press conference soon.

  “Since when did you start loving on a man with tattoos? You're always after those clean-cut, boring type of guys. I suppose doctors are totally ugly and off limits now, too. If I recall, not too long ago, there was a doctor who you claimed was very good with his hands in and out of the operating room.”

  “He was. Speaking of, I have to get out of here. I’ll give you a call later. And for the record, you and I both have dated dull and boring.” I shake my head, tossing my napkin on the table, rise when she does, and follow her to the register, where I pay before I return to the table with my tip and pretend like no one is zooming in on my face.