Connected

by A. E. Murphy

  All of my inhibitions vanish. My mind goes blank, my body now nothing but a mess of feelings. Too many to describe, but all of them twisting into one thing. Lust. Pure, never ending, forever burning lust.

  I need to feel more of him. I want to feel his skin on mine. My hands frantically start pulling at his jacket and he shifts a few times until I manage to slide it from his arms. When it’s on the pillows to the side of us, he grabs my thighs and bucks his body into mine, pressing my back into the pillows. His lips are again locked on mine.

  I scrape my fingernails across his shoulders. His entire body shudders and I feel my back arch as his hardness presses against my swelling clit. He presses himself into me again and again and I press harder in response, as if trying to rub the fabric away, so all that’s left is him and the knickers that separate us. I’m so glad I wore a dress.

  I work at the buttons of his shirt, loving the feel of his toned, smooth chest. He’s so defined, so beautiful. After popping the fourth button down, his hand wraps around both of mine. He pulls them up and over my head, pinning them at the wrists.

  When his hand releases my wrists a few moments later and descends to my breasts, I reach for the buttons again, but he leans up and off me. Using his hands, he pries open my legs and pushes my dress up so it gathers at my waist. Settling in between my thighs, he claims my mouth again. His hands grab at every inch of flesh they can reach, as if he’s scared I’ll vanish.

  I’m probably going to have a few finger sized bruises tomorrow but I really don’t care. He’s not hurting me. It feels too good to be classed as any kind of pain.

  “Nathan,” I mutter as he kisses a trail down my neck, his hand gripping the bottom of my dress.

  He pulls it up and over my head, throwing it behind him without a thought. I lie on the bed of pillows on my back, my legs bent either side of him.

  “I want to see you.” His voice is as breathy as mine. His eyes linger on my breasts, which are hidden behind a lacy black nursing bra. It’s not my favourite one, but at this point in time I don’t care. “All of you.” Fingertips touch the hollow at the base of my throat, then trail down over the swell of my right breast. He lightly circles the nipple through the fabric, watching as it pebbles from his touch, pressing through the fabric like it wants to break free. He moves to the left one and does the same. I throw my head back and groan, his featherlike touches doing more to me than they should.

  Both hands grasp me, massaging my heavy globes softly. He watches them as he does this, almost mesmerised by what he’s doing and seeing. Once he’s done playing with me through my bra, he trails the edges of his nails across my skin, over the band of my bra to the hook at the back. Seconds later it’s unhooked and he’s gently sliding it from my shoulders before letting it fall on the ground.

  He leans back again, just staring, no words spoken. Only our breathing can be heard and both of us are breathing heavily.

  I daren’t reach for him. I want to, my fingers ache to touch him, but something tells me I need to let him do this at his pace. So I do. I wait, allowing him time to run his fingers over every inch of my torso as if burning it to memory.

  Lips and a warm wet tongue trail down the centre of my chest before he sits back on his knees. His hands help me out of my shoes; they pull off my socks and finally slide my fabric skirt from my body. I lie before him in nothing but a pair of black lace knickers that cover less than they showed on the mannequin in the store. My arse is definitely not a small one.

  Dragging his hands up my calves and thighs, I’m relieved when he finally grips my lace knickers and slides them off too. Now he starts moving back up, his lips and tongue leading the way, his body brushing against mine.

  Just seeing him peruse me again, leaning back slightly so he can see all of me, his eyes heated and sharp, taking in every inch of me, makes me feel like I’m the only woman on Earth. I should feel vulnerable and exposed, but the way he’s holding himself, the way he’s breathing, the way his lips are parted and his eyes are devouring me, I feel nothing but beautiful, powerful and magnificent. I don’t remember ever feeling this way before.

  He cups my arse with both hands as his mouth moves over mine again. A squeal escapes me when I’m suddenly flipped onto my front and his mouth is on my neck. I lick my lips, wiping away the taste of him with my tongue.

  “Nathan?” I question as one of his hands grasps at my aching breasts, his movements no longer slow and sweet, but rough and needy. I like the change, I’m just not sure if I like the direction I’m facing.

  My ears pick up the sound of a zipper and his skilful hand continues teasing my skin, grabbing me, stroking me. Goose pimples break out over my flesh.

  His hands are gone from my body and I hear the cause of this sudden abandonment - a foil wrapper being opened. I watch him over my shoulder. His eyes are looking down at his hands as he rolls the condom onto his substantial length. I can’t see it and I really want to. I want to touch him, why are we doing it in this position? I want to look in his eyes.

  “You’re beautiful, Gwen,” he says into my ear, his chest against my back, his body bending forward slightly, forcing mine to do the same. I grip the edges of the pillows under my hands, wondering why he won’t let me turn and wrap my legs around him. A tremble flows through me when his hand comes up to circle my neck from the front, his forefinger curving over my jaw. I feel his hot length at my entrance, his free hand placing it directly over the opening. “You mean everything to me.” He tells me to my eyes and my heart swells.

  I nod, gulping at the same time, before wetting my drying lips with my tongue. “You mean everything to me too.”

  He pushes inside slowly. Far too slowly. Only the head is in and the ache is almost unbearable. It’s a pleasurable ache mixed with a small amount of pain as he stretches me.

  It’s been too long. Far too long.

  He pulls out, leaving only the tip inside. Shudder.

  “Are you okay?” He asks, the concern in his voice turning my heart into a puddle.

  Smiling slightly, I nod and reach over my shoulder to caress his face. He leans into it and places a gentle kiss on the palm of my hand. Seconds later I let out a groan, not one of pain either, as he slams inside. Only half way, but Christ it feels good.

  “Still okay?” He asks, moving in and out, each thrust getting more powerful but never going in to the hilt.

  His hands that were holding my hips leave me for a moment. They return seconds later and I instantly recognise the feel of leather covering his fingers. I’m about to comment when he places two fingers over my clit and rubs in fast circles, his hips speeding up but still never allowing his solid length to enter me fully.

  Again, I’m in a state where I don’t care about the gloves or the fact he’s still dressed, or the fact we’re doing this all wrong. It feels too good.

  No.

  He feels too good.

  Nathan grips my breast, pulling me back against his chest so my arms are no longer holding me up. I twist my head so he can kiss me, allowing him to swallow the moans that escape me. He doesn’t go back to kissing my neck when I lean forward, gripping the pillows once more. I wonder if this is because of the perspiration that is now covering my skin.

  I try to push my hips back towards him, wanting to feel him deeper. It doesn’t work. He places a hand on my lower back, stopping me from pushing into him anymore. Why won’t he go inside? This burning is driving me crazy. I need more, just a little bit more.

  “Please, Nathan, harder,” I pant, my head falling forward, my shame gone.

  “Can’t,” he bites out and my eyes fly open. I want to look at him, so I turn my head as far as possible and peer at him through the corner of my eye. His torso is straight, his eyes clenched shut and his teeth biting into his lower lip.

  My swollen clit begins to throb. I feel it pulse as a strong familiar burning sensation spreads through my body. I feel it in my feet, in my calves, my thighs, my arms, and directly behind my eyes, wher
e it pops over and over again. It’s coming, I can feel it. If he’d just go deeper...

  “Come on, baby,” he whispers, his tone demanding and forceful in my ear. “Let go.”

  “Can’t.” I repeat what he said to me moments ago.

  “I can’t last much longer,” he warns and slows his thrusting. “You feel too good.”

  “Go harder,” I order, placing my hand over his on my clit.

  “Christ,” he breathes, his eyes widening a fraction. “So tight.” His lips tilt up at the edges. I scowl. Why’s he teasing me?

  My forehead hits the mattress as a sharp tingle hits me in my core and pools in my lower stomach.

  “Deeper,” I beg.

  He ignores me, so I muster what little strength I have to look at him again. Seeing his brows furrow in pleasure, listening to his quiet moans and heavy breaths, feeling him tense with each shallow thrust, it tips me over the edge. I press his fingers hard onto my swollen nub and try my hardest to push back onto him.

  Something pops inside of me and warm, liquid ecstasy pours into every vein, traveling around my entire body. The noises I make are indecipherable. The pleasure I feel indescribable. My legs buckle beneath me. Nathan catches me around the waist with ease as I continue to ride the wave.

  My walls clench around him as if trying to hold him inside, even as my orgasm slowly begins to subside. I don’t want him to leave me. He’s still hard, he still hasn’t reached his climax yet.

  “Don’t slow down,” I gasp, my hand reaching out to grab his hip. He pushes it away, but I wrap my fingers around the belt loop and hold it tight. “Go deeper.”

  “Let go,” he says, grasping at my fingers, trying to pry them off.

  “Don’t make me.”

  “Let go.”

  “Nathan,” I plead, moving my hips back, my appetite for him not satisfied yet.

  “Guinevere! Let GO!” He almost bellows, his eyes panicked and furious. I immediately release him and he pulls out and away instantly. My shock is apparent on my face as I roll onto my back, grabbing my dress and pulling it around me as I go.

  “What’s wrong?”

  He turns. I watch as he rips the condom off and throws it into a small bin by the trap door. By the time he’s turned around, he’s zipped himself up and is already working at doing up the buttons on his shirt.

  What just happened?

  He lets out a breath and looks at me, his eyes scanning my body. I shouldn’t be shy after that, though I can’t help but pull the sheet tighter around me.

  “Are you okay?” He asks, sitting on the pillow beside me, making it dip slightly and forcing me to lean into him.

  I nod. “Are you?”

  “Yes.” He strokes my collarbone and the swell of my breast.

  “Why am I naked and you aren’t?” It didn’t matter much when I was lost in the throes of ecstasy. Now that I have my mind back, I feel slightly awkward.

  He doesn’t respond. Instead he pulls his jacket on and makes his way to the trap door. Giving me a soft, lingering look, he says, “I’ll just be a moment.”

  “Okay.”

  He leaves the tree house without looking back. Seriously… what just happened?

  Did he orgasm? I’m sure he didn’t. I look at the empty condom lying in the bin and scratch my head. This is confusing; he was definitely close. Did I not feel good to him?

  Do I smell? Maybe I smell or something.

  I hope not.

  I don’t feel so good right now. That glow most people get after having sex just vanished and I suddenly feel dirty.

  I quickly get dressed, almost getting tangled in my long dress in my haste to look for Nathan. He still hasn’t returned and it has been almost ten minutes.

  Where is he?

  “Nathan?” I shout, leaning over the hole in the ground. I can’t see him. Damn it. “NATHAN!”

  He steps into my line of sight. I notice him pulling the zipper of his trousers up. He must have gone to urinate.

  Smiling nervously, he climbs up the ladder with ease. I marvel at the sight of his arm muscles tightening against the fabric of his shirt.

  Holy crap. We just had sex.

  I blush, avoiding his eyes as I stand and move out of his way, my hands twisting in front of me.

  “Hey.” He catches my wrist and places his finger under my chin to tilt my head back. “What’s the matter?”

  “Nothing.” I shake my head, albeit a little frantically, and go to step into him. I need holding right now.

  My heart aches when he steps back and crouches down by the bag he brought. He knew my intention then, I know he did.

  Oh god. Is this all he wanted? To see if I was any good?

  Was I not?

  I did just kind of lie there, but in my defence I was trying to give him the space he seemed to need.

  He pulls out two bottles of water and hands one to me. I carefully twist the lid off and take a few small sips.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  “Gwen?” Nathan says quietly as he sits back on the pillows.

  “Hmm?”

  He pats the cushions beside him. “Come here.”

  Still blushing slightly, I clear my throat and sink down onto the pillows beside him.

  My body moves and suddenly I’m on my back with Nathan towering over me. I don’t get the chance to yelp as it happens too fast. He grins mischievously; it’s a look that is so different in contrast to how he was a few months ago. It suits him.

  “What are you thinking?” I ask the typical question that most men hate.

  He runs his nose along my jaw, his body sinking onto mine more. “I’m thinking,” he moves up and kisses me gently before pulling away a fraction, “that I…” He dips down and runs his nose along the curve of my neck. “Am most likely…” I giggle when he nips at my over sensitised skin. “The luckiest man…” His mouth comes back to mine and his eyes stare deeply into my own. “Alive.”

  I feel his tongue press against my own and shudder before greeting it. Moan.

  “You didn’t orgasm,” I say and instantly regret it. Ground, swallow me whole.

  “I did,” he lies, nibbling on my bottom lip.

  “Didn’t.” Why would he lie?

  “Yes I did.” He smiles, moving from my lips to the lobe of my ear. His hand slides under my dress and grips my hip.

  That’s definitely not a gun I feel in his pocket.

  “You didn’t; I’ve seen the condom.” I place my fingers in the back of his hair and gently pull his face up to meet mine.

  “Hmm.” This is all he says before he presses his lips to mine again. “Would you like to go again?” He grinds his hips into mine.

  Definitely not a gun.

  “Umm…” Shiver.

  “Later,” he responds for me, although my thoughts weren’t saying later, that’s for sure.

  I watch as he stacks pillows against the wall and leans against them.

  “Go to that trunk for me,” he says politely. I do as I’m told and rest my hand on top of the curved lid. “Open it.”

  I do so, expecting to find toys, magazines and junk. Instead I find it to be full of neatly stacked books. In the right hand corner are a few bottles of disinfectant and packaged wipes. I smile and roll my eyes at these.

  “Peter Pan should be on the top.”

  I see it immediately and run my hand over the tatty cover that has definitely seen better days. “Peter Pan?”

  He shrugs, his tongue swiping over his bottom lip. “It used to be my favourite. I can’t tell you how many times I read it growing up.”

  This breaks my heart. Shatters it. Destroys it.

  The thought of Nathan, a young boy witnessing such torture finding a friend in a boy who doesn’t have family and never wants to grow up, absolutely moves me yet shatters me all at once.

  “Read it to me.”

  I immediately comply.

  Being careful not to damage the book further in any way, I crawl over to Nathan and rest my head
on his lap. Bending my legs at the knees, I use them as a resting place for the book as my fingers turn the pages.

  I start reading and his hand starts stroking through my hair. “All children, except one, grow up…”

  He rests his head back and closes his eyes, almost as if picturing the story in his mind. It’s the most heart breaking yet lovely moment to be a part of.

  Most couples are probably at work, or sat watching TV and arguing over the remote. I’m not. I’m in a fairy-tale.

  I’m in a forest, in a tree house, reading Peter Pan to the man who loves me.

  Will it be like this forever, minus the heartache that both of us feel over our pasts? Right now I don’t feel heartache for anyone but him. Out here I’m no longer Guinevere, Mum to Dillan, widow to Caleb and heartbroken beyond repair.

  Out here I’m just Gwen who loves Nathan.

  I’m sorry, Caleb, I can’t go back now. Plus, I don’t want to.

  Please, don’t hate me. I can’t help how I feel.

  An hour passes by and even though my arse is starting to go numb, I continue reading. Nathan seems content to stroke the top of my cleavage or my hair whilst listening silently. I don’t want to stop but I’m starting to get tired.

  Nathan, sensing my need to take a break, pulls the book from my hands and moves to place it back in the trunk. I lie flat and stretch my body like a cat.

  “Thank you.” He smiles softly and lies beside me. “We should head back.”

  “Yeah,” I reluctantly agree, not wanting to leave. I feel so disconnected from the world here. I can see why Nathan claimed this as his safe place.

  He stands, pulling me with him, and stretches just like I did moments ago. Without another word, he grabs the bag and leads me to the ladder, climbing down a few steps. He waits for me to follow and holds my dress out of the way.

  “I received a call after we had sex,” Nathan says when I reach the ground. He takes my hand and leads me back the way we came.