One More Breath

by Delaney Williams

  “Here?” I whisper.

  “Now.”

  I shake as I undress. As he carefully runs his hands along my tattoo, feeling every inch of me, I can feel my breathing beginning to change, the wetness beginning to gather between my legs. The things this man does to me by just a simple touch.

  When he finishes rubbing the cream in, he turns me around and bends me over my desk. I whimper and start to protest, “Someone will…”

  He silences me with his mouth, then reaches down and slowly pulls my panties down my legs and stuffs them in his pocket. He begins running his fingers up and down my slit, feeling the wetness that even I can feel there. He works two fingers into me, curving them to rub at that spot I love so much until I am uncontrollably bucking against the desk.

  When I start crying silent tears of relief, he reaches into his pocket, grabs a condom, unzips and sheathes himself in a matter of moments. Then he slams into me hard enough that we knock the paperwork off my desk. Not knowing when my next class is, he is in a hurry, moving quickly and deeply with each thrust. In no time at all, I feel my entire body seize up. My eyes roll up and my soul leaves for a while, relishing the ecstasy he has just given me. After a few more strokes, I hear him groan and feel the heat of his release in the condom. I don’t know why he is so insistent upon the use of one. I mean, for almost that first week, it had not crossed his mind once. Now he is like a fucking boy scout. We are still getting to know one another, so this is probably another one of the things he will tell me with time. He covers my back with his heat and strength, peppering my neck and shoulders with gentle kisses, waiting for our breathing to even out. Once it does, we stand and I pull my skirt back down, while he takes care of the condom.

  “Excuse me,” I ask, holding out my hand for my underwear “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

  He just smirks. “Nope.”

  “You don’t really expect me to go teach these students after what we just did without any underwear on, do you? I thought you were all possessive and crazy that the boys were going to make moves on me. Apparently, those were just words.”

  “Babe, first, they won’t know you don’t have any underwear on. Second, they won’t be making any moves on you because I will be walking you to class today. Speaking of, when is your next one?”

  I glance at the clock, which is now on the floor. “Ten minutes. It’s my last class, then I am done for the day.”

  “Great! Get yourself ready, then I will walk you. As a matter of fact, I could use some English lessons. I think maybe I will sit in on your class and see what I can learn.” I look at him in shock and give in. It is no use arguing with him. He wants English? He is going to get it.

  “By the way, babe, I like to tattoo every two weeks on large pieces, so you need to let me know what will work for you next week. I will schedule the whole day and we will do dinner again after, okay?”

  I nod. I am ready. My pain threshold is such that he could do it now if he had the ink. “What is the plan?” I ask.

  “The phoenix,” he replies, leading me out the door and following me to my class.

  Of course, Ander can’t sit in the back of the class. No. He has to wait up front with me until the class is full, then he gives me a kiss on the cheek and takes a seat in the front row. I can see the looks I am getting from the boys in my class, as well as the looks Ander is getting from the girls. This is a clusterfuck I still have to manage to teach in.

  ANDER

  This may have been the best idea ever. I currently have Van Halen’s “Hot for Teacher” running on repeat in my head. Every word she speaks, every movement she makes causes my dick to dance in my pants. I had just taken her not even fifteen minutes ago! Hell, I still have her panties in my pocket. At that thought, I smirk, which she sees. She automatically begins to tug down on the dress, as if it can get any longer. If anything, it looks even more perfect because there are no annoying panty lines.

  Wait. If I saw that, so did these horny bastards. I look around and see at least five other students adjusting themselves in their pants, and I am pretty sure the guy in the corner is masturbating. God. College… What a kick. As I look around, I also notice the female attention is all on me, so I decide my best course of action is to become Ms. Mac’s best and most focused student.

  By the end of class, I’m not sure if this was a lesson for her or me, but it was fun. Her students start to file out, many of the girls trying to slip their numbers to me. I just shake my head and hand them back. I point at their teacher and, for the most part, they seem to understand. Some just don’t take no for an answer and shove their numbers, and hands, in my pockets. Girls are a lot more aggressive now than they were when I was this age. I walk up to Leire’s desk and kiss her, making it known to all who are still in the room that she is mine and they have no chance. Her lovely blush is a great reward.

  I walk her back to her office, where she gets out her calendar to plan the next tattoo. I am thinking that the way she handles pain, we can knock this out in two more sessions. We pick a date for Saturday of next week, placing us at slightly over two weeks, then look to go ahead and schedule the last session, as well. When we schedule that one, she also notices something else written on the calendar and she seems to pale. “What is it, babe?” I ask.

  “It’s nothing right now. Let’s just focus on now and getting this beautiful piece of work done. Now, what should we do with our night?” she responds, a sultry look on her face.

  Seeing her in some sort of distress but not knowing what to do about I, I follow her directions. I hurry her through grabbing her work, then follow her to her house, where she proceeds to cook me her specialty…frozen fish sticks, canned green beans, and a green smoothie. I am sure that no matter how many good and healthy nutrients she puts into that gross green smoothie, it is not going to balance out the equally as gross meal people normally serve their children. When I ask her about it, she replies, “Cancer took my childhood. Things most people take for granted…foods, games, friends…I didn’t have, so this is what I do now. When I need comfort, I eat mac and cheese, fish sticks, and any other food one normally classifies as food for children. The only things I won’t eat are hotdogs or lunch meats with sulfates. Too risky.”

  And that was that. Wait? Why would she be needing her comfort food and not telling me what was up? Something had changed in the last few hours.

  LEIRE

  We sit down to our dinner and eat in silence, both of us thinking over the day and how our relationship is moving ahead. When we go quietly and slowly to bed, each taking our time undressing one other, there is the feeling things are definitely changing. Even though we had started out fast, like a flame, we aren’t burning out. Rather, we are continually setting each other ablaze. I know I am in deep, falling fast for this special man. I just hope he can handle what is coming up for me.

  When I lie on the bed, he spreads my legs. “Look how wet you are. You are glistening for me, calling for me. I have to stop for a taste.” And that he does. He licks and nips until I have lost track of the number of orgasms he gives me. I am surprised he still has hair on his head. His mohawk may look a little ragged tomorrow, but it has been worth it.

  He crawls up by body, a devilish look in his eyes and I shiver. “Baby, we are new. I know it’s only been a short period of time, but I can’t help but feel strongly for you. I am protective of you and I want to be with you at all times. I am falling for you fast, Leire.” With that, his sheathed dick slides into my wet heat and we slowly make love for the rest of the night.

  ANDER

  Over the next month-and-a-half, we finish the tattoo. It is absolutely stunning, if I do say so myself. I am trying to convince her to allow me to enter it into a tattoo contest at a local convention. However, because of how special and private it is, she isn’t sure. I get that. We have also fallen into a routine in which we never sleep apart. If I have a light evening, I meet her at school and we spend the night at her house. If I am still working
, she comes to the shop and chats with Cora while waiting for me to finish.

  Things are going well until she happens to glace at a calendar again and almost loses it. I won’t let her hide from me this time. We are well beyond this. I need to know what is bothering her so I can fix it. Since I couldn’t fix my sister, I was never going to let a loved one go without doing my best to fix all that I could.

  In the morning, after I watched her fret over the calendar yet again, I corner her in the kitchen. “Are you gonna tell me why you keep looking at the calendar like it is going to eat you?”

  “It’s nothing, Ander. I just have a doctor’s appointment to go to in a few days. That’s all.”

  “If it is nothing, why have you been obsessing over it for the last month or so? Is there something I need to know? I want to take care of you. Tell me what is going on, Leire.”

  “Ander… I am sure it is nothing, but I have been feeling very tired and rundown. I want to sleep a lot, and I am losing my appetite. I have bruises I don’t remember getting. All of this makes me worried that the cancer has come back, so I am just worried about the appointment.”

  Shit. How did I not notice this? She has been taking more naps and eating less, but I figured it was just the stress of work, along with the newness of a new relationship. Fuck. Cancer… What do I do with that? The answer in my heart is easy. Fight it. But my head keeps reminding me I have no control over this situation. However, I am not going to lose another loved one. When my sister died, I had hidden in the laundry machine, not even aware of her death. That won’t happen this time. I will fight with her. I grab her shoulders and look in her eyes. “Baby, whatever it is, we do this together, okay? You’re not in this alone. Let’s not jump to the worst case scenario yet. I am in this with you for the long haul. It is me and you. I cannot see myself spending my life with anyone but you. I want to wake up in the morning looking at your face, your hair spread across my pillow. I want to come home from work and cook together, laugh together, and cry together. I want to go to sleep every night beside you. And, eventually, I want us to raise my daughter together. We will be a family, Leire. I will not lose someone I love again. Do you hear me?”

  I pull her to me while she cries on my shoulder. When she finally calms down, she reaches up and pulls me in for the sweetest kiss I’ve ever had. “I have never allowed myself to open up to someone out of fear that if or when this happened again, they would run. I will not hold you to it, but know that just the fact you would try means the world to me.”

  Try? What kind of fucks had she been around previously? It makes me want to go after people from her past and teach them a lesson, but my anger would do no good right now, so I hold it in. We hold each other until she is okay and heads off to work. I grab my coffee and leave, as well, determined to not focus on the negative. This is just a cold.

  LEIRE

  After crying on Ander’s shoulder for a good period of time, I feel slightly better, but he still doesn’t know my appointment is actually today. I’m not heading into school, but to the oncology clinic. I have spent my whole life feeling like I am in a holding pattern, afraid to move forward because of the pain I would cause someone, and myself, if I grew attached…and now it is happening.

  Ander heard the beginning of my story, the bare bones, the easy. He hasn’t heard about the bad parts. It is easy to imagine cancer patients as the smiling bald people they use on commercials to get sympathy and money donations. In reality, cancer is nothing like that. Sure, you lose your hair. If you are lucky, that is all you will lose. I know the truth. Since being diagnosed, I’ve done this twice. All of the times were bad, and I was alone every single time. People always say they love you and will stand by you, but when they see the ugly truth, they are gone faster than Usain Bolt. People always say “If you need anything…”, but the minute you do, they have excuses as to why they are unavailable. I get that sickness is hard to be around. Cancer sucks. During my last treatment, I lost everything…hair, fingernails, eyebrows, eyelashes, anything that grew. I was unable to swallow my own spit, so I had a suction machine do it for me. I hurt everywhere, no matter how much painkiller they administered. I loved Benadryl because I could at least sleep, but even sleeping wasn’t safe. I woke myself up crying because I was dying, or people were laughing at me and making fun of my hair in my dreams.

  One day, my father had gotten permission from the local baseball team to go into the dugout before the game and meet the players. On the way inside, we were stopped by a police officer. When he approached, he looked at my dad, then me, and said my dad needed to “crack down on your daughter if she is already expressing her superior racial beliefs so young”. This fucking police officer assumed, because I was bald, I was a fourteen-year-old skinhead. My dad, in all seriousness, told the cop that for $300,000 a week, he could also have this haircut, and that I was currently dying from cancer. Without an apology, the man just turned and walked away. To this day, I hope he feels like shit. Even children behave better than that. Sure, they are curious, asking why I have no hair, but they don’t judge. Once, a child told me I must be an awesome swimmer if I was dedicated enough to shave my head.

  So my nightmares typically had to do with adults. Waking up screaming and crying and not wanting to tell the other adults around you why sucks. In cancer, you hold a lot inside. You don’t want people to know just how bad it hurts, or how much you are feeling alone and in pain. You want people to see you as the person they think you are…a happy survivor. And now I have Ander to prove this to. I really am hoping for some other reason for these symptoms, but my hopes aren’t very high.

  When I get to the clinic, the nurse has me fill out the usual forms and, eventually, takes me back for bloodwork. After so many pokes over the year, my veins are awfully hard to find, causing the phlebotomist to struggle today. I think it takes five pokes before she finally gets a flash of blood and can draw enough to test. But after that, I am done. It is the waiting that is going to get to me. I need something else to focus on to keep my mind busy.

  Ander said he is going to stand by me, so I need to show him I can stand by him. I need to support him with this whole Brittany thing and in getting Lola back. Just the fact he had chosen to support her from afar this entire time shows me he does have staying power. Maybe we can make it through this.

  Deciding on a course of action, I make my way back to the car. I am going to begin with taking down Brittany. She has hurt Ander repeatedly over the years and is using her own daughter as a manipulation tool. She is my beginning. She is Lola’s mother, so I need to go about this gently, but I can’t sit back and allow her to continue on the way she is. She’s used him over and over, never allowing him to let go. I want to hurt her. Instead, I have to do this the right way. So I start to plot.

  The minute I am in my car, I call the Rose and ask for Wyatt. To say he is surprised to hear from me would be an understatement. For some odd reason, this kind man, who smiles and laughs with others, seems to not like me and I can’t figure out why. “Wyatt, can you give me some info on Brittany and Lola, keeping it on the down low? I don’t want Ander to know.” I can sense his hesitation. He doesn’t want to share personal information with me. “Please, Wyatt. I need to be able to help him. Help me help him get his daughter back.”

  Hearing that breaks him. According to Wyatt, Lola is absolutely beautiful, but very shy and reserved. She doesn’t have many friends, and the few times he met her, she seemed almost scared. I am beginning to think this is why Brittany did her best to keep Ander away from her. Her birthday is coming up and Wyatt tells me Ander isn’t invited. Inspiration hits me at that moment. I tell him to call Brittany to schedule her tattoo, citing Ander’s change of heart, but only if she brings Lola with her. He complies, placing me on hold while calling her. Thrilled, she readily agrees. Again, she thinks she is getting her way. This is turning out well. It is like having my own mystery novel, only with real characters and consequences. Only, in this novel, I get to go home
and have amazing sex with the hero.

  Once I found out about Lola’s shyness and upcoming birthday, I have to hit the mall. Friday is only few days away and I have a ton to plan. Since I have never bought any sort of present for a teenager, let alone a girl, I find a personal shopper and let her at it. I figure Lola has never really gotten presents or even had a real birthday, so I intend to make up for a lot of lost time. After shopping, I head over to the party supply store and order what I need.

  Between the stress of the morning and the running of the errands all afternoon, I need my boyfriend and I need him now. As I drive home faster than usual, I imagine his cock working into me. I call him as I drive. “Hey. Where are you?” I ask.

  “Hey to you, too, babe. I heard you called the shop today, but didn’t speak to me. Got something to tell me?”

  Shit. I forgot how he can be at times. “No. I was just asking a favor. You were busy and I didn’t want to interrupt,” I claim, hoping he goes for it.

  “Hmmm… I don’t believe you, but I will get it out of you tonight. I am at my place. Come here.” With that, he hangs up. Crap, how does one keep a secret from someone who has the ability to sexually torture it out of them? As I drive to his house, I try to calculate a plan in my head. I think I am going to have to make something up, but what?

  ANDER

  This woman… I have not seen or heard from her for an entire day, and then when she does call, lies to me. I walk into my room to get out my supplies to prove to her that she needs to trust me on all levels. As soon as she arrives, I can tell she knows she’s in trouble. She drops her bags on the floor and immediately gives me a regretful look, which she knows isn’t going to fly with me.

  “Lose the clothes, babe. Now.”

  She immediately begins removing her sexy professor clothes, leaving them in a pile by my front door.

  “Walk to the bedroom, but do not get on the bed. Stand at the foot of it, facing the headboard.”