Fall Semester

by Stephanie Fournet

  And Malcolm rocked her with his laughter, setting off her own giggles.

  “Woman, how you make me laugh.”

  She held him still in one hand, and with the other she touched his face, watching his eyes in the darkness.

  “You make me happy,” she whispered.

  He held her gaze and shifted his weight so that the head of his shaft met her sex. With their eyes locked, he pushed into her, slowly, stretching her, filling her, and, again, rendering her near speechless.

  “Yes,…” was all she managed before she tipped her head back and began to move with him. A clenching, a quickening that started just above her knees and just below her ribs began to gather force, drawing inward on itself. She wrapped her legs around him and cried in bliss at the depth this took him.

  “Oh, Maren…” he murmured at this revelation.

  Each time he pushed into her and pulled back again, her muscles around him clasped, an internal swallowing, a hunger finally being fed. She still held his beautiful face in one hand, and now the other grabbed his hip, ready to brace against him when she broke.

  “Come for me, Maren, mi diosa, mi todo.”

  He slipped a hand between them, and his thumb brushed her clitoris, and she tipped over the edge.

  “Malcolm!”

  Her womb pumped like a fist, obliterating her with waves of pleasure, and this was Malcolm’s undoing.

  He came with a deep cry and a deeper plunge into her, hitting her core as it spasmed and, unbidden, convincing her of a divine plan behind every hinge in the universe.

  “Maren,” he whispered, kissing her face, breathless, still moving inside her.

  “Malcolm,” she answered because it was the most precious word she knew.

  Eons later, when they had stilled and their breathing had slowed, Malcolm rolled them to their sides, and with a tinge of regret, she felt him slip out of her. But he seemed to want to compensate for this, too, gripping her left thigh and tugging it higher on his hip. He drew her into his arms, and she rested her cheek on his chest. She smiled as the tiny patch of curls there tickled her nose. Lying there with him soaked her with contentedness. She had never felt so replete.

  Maren knew Malcolm well enough to suspect that he would have doubts, but she didn’t want to give those air by asking about tomorrow or needing to be reassured. Of course, she wanted to know about tomorrow; she wanted to be reassured. This moment was paradise, and she wanted it to last. But it was enough—more than enough—to feel his arms around her, to be able to stroke the swell of his bicep as she did, and to listen to the steady thump of his heart.

  So Maren was completely surprised when he spoke, brushing her cheek with the back of his hand.

  “You are amazing,” he whispered, his voice hushed in awe.

  She looked up at him, into the tranquil sincerity of his face, and she pressed her lips to his, reveling in the simple fact that she could. He kissed back, and his fingers moved to her hair.

  “You should know that I worship your hair. This braid is a holy relic,” he announced, making her laugh.

  “And that laugh, my God,” he whispered, and she could just see his smile in the darkness. “It is the elixir of life.”

  “I’m glad you approve,” she said through her smile. She returned her lips to his collarbone and spoke into it as she kissed. “And I’ve planned a pilgrimage here. It’s sacred ground.”

  “Mmmm…” he breathed, turning his neck to give her more room. “Mi tesoro santo.”

  Maren surfaced from his throat and frowned, trying to translate. She loved that he slipped into Spanish without seeming to realize it, but she could not keep up—especially with a sex-addled brain.

  “‘My holy’ what?” she asked, biting her lip, bashfully.

  He closed in and tongued her lip until she freed it, and then nipped it himself.

  “Treasure,” he whispered.

  Maren felt the word glide down her throat and over her heart as if she’d swallowed it.

  “Wow…” she managed, lamely.

  This made him laugh gently, his hard chest rocking against her.

  God, I love you.

  He squeezed her tighter against him.

  “I think it’s time we try to sleep. It’s pretty late, mi todo.”

  It was the third time he’d said it, and she finally caught the words. Maren felt her eyes well, and she was grateful for the darkness.

  My everything.

  Chapter 24

  Malcolm

  A half an hour before dawn, Malcolm sat lotus-style at the foot of his bed with the edge of the comforter pulled over his shoulders, watching Maren sleep.

  He felt happier than he had in years, and it scared the shit out of him.

  Had he ever been this happy? Even in the early days with J.J.? Had she touched him like this? He could not remember being so humbled by the affection of a woman. He could not remember ever longing for anyone—anything—as much as he had for Maren. And making love? Touching her, tasting her, and making her come had redefined his priorities.

  He ran his eyes over her sleeping form. Even in the shadows, she was undeniably beautiful, the slope of her hip as she lay on her side, the curve of her neck. Such was the beauty that he shared with the rest of the world, but he also knew that she had the beauty of strength, self-sacrifice, good-humor, kindness, and so much more. The privilege to gaze on her in his bed and know her set him far above any other man alive.

  What in the hell is she doing with me?

  Malcolm’s stomach clenched. He didn’t know what to hope for. Pushing her away was no longer an option. She had conquered him, vanquished him. He was powerless. Something had begun. But Malcolm knew the truth; with every beginning comes an ending.

  How would this end?

  Maren stirred in her sleep, reaching out her hand into the space he’d occupied moments before. He realized with no little wonder that she was searching for him in her sleep. Without another thought, he crawled back up the bed, settled next to her again, and took her warm body in his arms. Unconscious, she gave a lilting hum of satisfaction and nestled against him. It was a gift.

  He knew without a doubt that, come what may, he could not leave her. Nothing on Earth would ever again tempt him to willfully hurt or abandon her. Which meant that when it ended, it would come at her hand.

  Just as the end of his marriage had come at J.J.’s.

  Would it come soon? Or would it be years from now? And how much would it decimate him? What to hope for? A part of him wanted to enjoy this as much as he could. But if it lasted—even as long as his marriage had—and then fell apart, where would he be? Would he survive it?

  It is like death, Malcolm reasoned. It is coming. You know it’s coming. But no one wants to hurry it along. Might as well enjoy the ride while it lasts.

  Malcolm’s darker impulse could not resist this temptation.

  It’s not like death—clean-cut and final. She’ll dump your ass, and you’ll be stuck in your life to deal with it. And no one wants to hurry death along? Bullshit. Why is the AMT still in your office?

  Malcolm forcefully shook his head to knock out these thoughts, and the motion jostled Maren in his arms. He silently cursed himself as she drew a long breath and surfaced from sleep. Dawn had broken, and he watched her smile before she opened her eyes.

  “Good morning, gorgeous,” she murmured, sleepily, peeking at him through her lashes.

  As always, she chased his dark thoughts away, and he found himself smiling at her sleep-mussed beauty and cheeky talk.

  “I didn’t mean to wake you. I’m sorry,” he whispered. “You can go back to sleep. It’s still quite early.”

  Maren shook her head, eyes closed again, but she planted two unexpected kisses on his pecs. Lightning fired to his cock, and it leapt.

  “Must pee,” Maren mumbled and pulled away from him. “Be right back.”

  Malcolm had the pleasure of watching Maren scamper naked to the bathroom. He still could not quite b
elieve the turn of events that led to such unexpected blessings. Her presence changed everything. It charged the air in his house, lit it from within. Even the sound of the toilet flushing, the sink running, the squeak of the medicine cabinet seemed musical because this was the antithesis of silence, the silence of his solitude.

  He lay in bed and listened to the faint susurration, guessing that Maren was brushing her teeth. Perhaps she could just leave the toothbrush he’d given her here. For next time.

  If there is a next time.

  He hoped there would be a next time. Malcolm knew that if he were really honest with himself, he truly hoped that next time would be tonight, and tomorrow, and the day after that.

  The door to the bathroom opened.

  “Malcolm, your floor is freezing,” Maren said through clenched teeth. Instead of returning to the bedroom, she dashed down the hall.

  “Where are you going?” he called, hating the thought that she might get dressed and leave him.

  “Getting my phone!” she yelled back, and Malcolm’s face split with a grin. Hearing her shout from down the hall was absolutely surreal. It punctuated the wonder of her presence.

  Feeling confident that she intended to return to his bed, he flung the covers back and made his own trip to the bathroom.

  Maren was right about the floors. Leaving the bathroom, he stepped into the doorway of his room to see Maren back in bed with the covers tucked under her arms, just hiding her breasts. She looked up from her phone and smiled at him, brushing bangs from her eyes.

  He recognized the naked joy on her face. It was the same look he tried to hide in his own face whenever he saw her. She pulled the tail of her mussed braid from behind her and draped it over her shoulder. It was a casual gesture, one she probably did every day, but the sensuality of it made him swallow.

  “Stop staring and come back here,” she said, smiling.

  “I’m not staring; I’m admiring,” he said, crossing the room and climbing onto the bed. He hovered over her, essentially trapping her between his arms, caging her legs within his. Her brown eyes locked onto his, and with just the sheets and a matter of inches separating their naked bodies, Malcolm felt like he could look straight into her. Being this close to her now in the growing light of day was even more intoxicating than the night had been.

  “I’ve got you right where I want you,” he whispered. “You can’t get away, now.”

  “Thank God,” Maren whispered back, the smile on her face giving way to something more thoughtful, a look that squeezed his heart.

  He nodded toward the phone still in her hand.

  “Everything alright?”

  She tossed it to the empty side of the bed.

  “Lane’s about to board his plane. He and I will go to the hospital when he gets in.”

  “I can take you wherever you need to go,” he said, wanting to keep her in his care, wanting to stay with her.

  “I’m not ready to go just yet,” she said, reaching up to touch his face. Malcolm saw heat and longing in her eyes, and he brought his lips to hers. In the frenzy of their collision the night before, he had devoured her with a sense of urgency. Now, he wanted to savor his good fortune. That, and take the lead, show her where he wanted to go with her. He parted her lips with his tongue, slowly tracing the inner line where her lips met. She tasted so sweet.

  He slid his tongue over her teeth and into the well of her mouth, catching her own ready tongue and dancing with it. Maren gave a gasp of pleasure, and Malcolm felt her struggle beneath him to thrust the covers down.

  “I want to feel you on me,” she breathed into his mouth. Malcolm wasted no time sliding under the covers with her and laying himself against her, skin on skin. She opened her legs and wrapped them around his hips, and the length of his cock came down against her cleft.

  Maren moaned.

  The sound of her pleasure was almost enough to make him come on cue. He was not about to let that happen. Malcolm gripped her left thigh in one hand and her right breast in the other, sealing his mouth over the mound and sucking fully.

  Maren arched her neck back and sent her hands to his hair.

  “Malcolm!” she hissed.

  The nipple became a tight heart in his mouth, and he circled it again and again with his tongue, loving the sound of her now fretful breathing. He ran his fingertips along the curve of her perfect ass, earning a faint whimper. She was so vocal, so responsive to him; it gave him a heady thrill and tightened his already straining sex.

  He released the breast in his mouth to claim the other, noticing as he did that a flush had painted the valley between Maren’s breasts and seemed poised to climb higher.

  “All red,” he murmured into her skin, kissing the blush on her sternum.

  Maren freed one hand from his head and ran her fingers over the trail, looking down at him. He moved to feast on the other breast, and she threw her head back.

  “Yes,…that happens….” she panted as his teeth teased flesh.

  Malcolm pulled back, intrigued, and saw that her eyes were half-closed in ecstasy.

  “When does it happen?” he asked, tracing fingers to her inner thigh, climbing slowly.

  “Mmmm…when I’m…close,” she said, managing to speak just above a whisper.

  She was close? The rush of red was her body’s semaphore, a beacon to signal her desire for him. Malcolm feared that she would unman him with her arousal, but just then an unwelcome thought crowded out all others.

  Who else knew this language of her body? What other men had beheld such heavenly signs?

  Jealousy, like clawed creature, grappled him.

  Mine.

  The impulse was stupid with its simplicity. Primal with its monosyllabic insistence. But behind the word and the sense lay a raw pain like a jabbed eyeball. He could not stand the thought of anyone else with her.

  Malcolm resisted a savage impulse to plunge into her and claim her as his, again and again, bring her to climax countless times so that she would forget any other man. But he knew even this would not be enough to soothe him.

  He kissed the climbing flush again and told her the truth.

  “I’m insanely jealous of every man who has seen this,” he whispered, watching for her reaction.

  Maren’s eyes opened and found his. For an instant, she looked at him with such surrender that Malcolm felt as though he could see her very soul. Her hands went to his face, her thumbs stroking his cheeks.

  “You have no reason to be jealous,” she said, eyes narrowing on his. “I’ve never wanted anyone as much as I want you.”

  Every curse fell away. His doubt. His fear. His failure.

  He moaned as his fingers found her sex and swam in the nectar of her arousal. So wet! He rolled his fingertips over the bud of her clitoris, and she whimpered again. He wanted to be inside her now, not to possess her, but to belong to her.

  Malcolm brought his mouth back up to hers and kissed her deeply, his tongue and fingers following the same swirling rhythm. Maren wrapped her arms around his back and locked her legs behind his thighs, grinding against his hand. She reached down between their bodies and grasped him.

  “Paraiso,” he breathed into her mouth. “Estoy en las puertas del paraiso.”

  “Come inside,” she whispered back, tilting her pelvis to meet the head of his sex.

  The muscles low in his belly clenched at her invitation, and his cock jumped in her grip. All thought left him except the ecstasy of his body and his adoration of her. He pushed into her slowly, his thumb caressing her clitoris. She was slick and ready, but she was also so tight that he feared hurting her. Malcolm looked down at her face to see a sublime sight, her mouth open and panting, her eyes softly closed, and a little frown creasing her brow. He froze.

  “Am I hurting you, my darling?”

  She lazily opened her eyes and gazed at him with such heat.

  “Only in the best possible way,” she whispered. “Don’t you dare stop.”

  With his left
hand, he found her right, clasping it and weaving their fingers together. He anchored himself against her palm, pinning her hand to the bed. Malcolm felt that the entire universe condensed to the boundaries of their bodies. They held each other’s gaze as he pushed deeper inside her. As he moved, a welcome he had never known shone from Maren’s eyes. At some place in his center, he recognized this as the home he had unwittingly sought his entire life. Here it was, at last, in the heart of this girl he had no business loving.

  It was too much. And, yet, he could not look away. True, he had no business loving her, but he absolutely did.

  Admitting his own love, he felt the fear again. As he stared into the depths of her eyes, it seemed as though he were on a steep precipice. He could back away, close his eyes, and let his body take over, plunging into the physical bliss that the moment offered. Or he could keep them open and let her see everything, his cowardice, his unworthiness, his tremendous and ill-advised love.

  He could not do it. He closed his eyes and moved to bury his face in her neck when her left hand touched his cheek, stopping him.

  “No,…no,” she whispered in protest. “Don’t go away. Let me look at you.”

  Malcolm looked back at her, awestruck. She knew that he was hiding. Hiding from her. And she was having none of it.

  He eyed her with admiration, not for the first time. This was Maren, seeing the truth and demanding it from him. She smiled back at him, forgiving his cowardice, easing his fears.

  “You change everything,” he murmured.

  “Good,” Maren replied, grinding harder against him. “You need change.”

  Could he change? He did not know if it was possible, but she gave him no chance to ponder the question. The blush on her front had crept to the base of her throat, and she began to give voice to her pleasure, little cries somewhere between sighs and songs.

  Nothing in life had come close to the beauty of watching her, hearing hear ascend. Malcolm felt as though the sight would unhinge him, and he would turn himself inside-out within her in that moment. He gritted his teeth to keep hold of his control, and he released her left hand, moving between them, and finding her. She gasped when he stroked the precious butterfly of nerves, and her hands snaked into his hair at the base of his skull. He swirled it again, and she bucked fiercely beneath him.