sommer marsden learning to drown-CALIBRE

by Sommer Marsden

  “You are not going to be sick, September,” he said. But he pulled his hand free of my sweat.

  See, Damien is vomit phobic. If anything would make him back up, the promise of a mess was it.

  I forced myself to gag, just a bit, just for show but not obviously dramatic. Despite feeling like the walking dead at the moment, the one thing I was not was nauseous. I had to fake it.

  Damien took one step back, just out of the path of anything that might come out of me. “I’m going to be sick, Dae.”

  He hit me. That’s when I knew he had snapped. Some part of Damien that had been in tact before was now damaged. My ears began to ring and my stomach really did roll over and I felt like I was falling. My knees unhinged and I went down on one knee. He stood over me, watching, anger burning bright spots on his face and neck. “You really do fuck everything up now don’t you? First you get taken, then you stay taken, now you’re going to be sick while I’m trying to play with you.”

  I nodded, feeling some relief way down deep inside of me. I was trying to calculate in my head how long I’d been gone. I tried to speculate if Lucas even knew I was gone yet. I tried to figure out what kind of damage I was going to suffer thanks to the fever and the virus and now the blows to the head. I felt like I was being punched with a boxing glove full of rocks instead of suffering a few open handed smacks from the world's worst boyfriend.

  “Damien,” I said, now pleading with that one word.

  The other knee dropped and I kneeled there. He grinned down at me. Something occurred to him and that smile made my fingers tremble.

  “At least you can do something while you’re down there. You’re not looking so green.”

  My brain made the connection. Me on my knees. Me his captive. Me burning up. Me a hot orifice that he could stick his dick in. It was just the cruel juvenile thing that would occur to him.

  He laughed and I hung my head, trying so hard to think. All I could think was if he was going to bare his cock, I was gonna take advantage. I had teeth and I had fingernails and he’d be putting his most vulnerable spot right in my face, literally. I steeled myself as he undid his button and his zipper. Damien reached in his pants and when he opened his mouth the wrong voice came out.

  Lucas’s voice said “Pull that out and lose it for good, my friend.”

  Somewhere in the distance I heard sirens.

  Chapter 30

  I opened my eyes, closed them. Opened them, closed them again. In my head were flashes of motion and remembrance. Matthew bursting through the front door a wild look in his eyes. The two brothers dealing with Damien and using restraint with their tempers, though I didn't know how. “Didn’t beat him,” I said. I felt myself list to the left. I was in motion. Or I felt like it.

  “No. Sadly, we didn’t beat him. Okay, so we each hit him once, but we didn't beat him. But we wanted to.”

  I opened my eyes and saw Lucas’s dark brown eyes studying me. Trees and fields and snow whizzed by. I shut my eyes again, knowing I was safe made it okay to give into the crushing fatigue.

  There had been cops. The infamous Marcus I had heard about. And cuffs. Damien spewing threats and Lucas talking softly, reminding Damien that he had been the one to leave me to my own devices when he found out I had not hired an abductor. A coldly calm reminder to Damien that if he spilled all, we would too. Matthew suggesting that if he went in and calmed down maybe they’d take it easy on him. Maybe I’d take it easy on him.

  During all the commotion I sat on the floor Indian style, by body throbbing like a rotten tooth. My fever so high my eyes felt like they were burning.

  Then there was an EMT and cold drinks, medicine and me refusing to go to the hospital. “Regular old flu,” the EMT had said. “Probably swooped in when she was stressed. Weakens the immune system, you know.”

  “Take me home,” I’d told Lucas. “Wherever that is for now.” And then I’d put my head to his broad chest and sleep came. I didn’t so much as drift off as drop like a rock.

  And here we were. “You in there, girly?”

  “Mmph,” was the best I could give him. But I got my tongue untangled and said “Where are we going?”

  “Back to the cabin. We’re going to ride this out and get you better. Then when things calm down you’re coming home with me.”

  “While I figure this out?”

  “While you decide if you want to stay there for good. I’m ready. No more bullshit. Not to say I’m not going to tie you up and boss you around and fuck you blue whenever I want,” he chuckled. “But it will be our room. Our place. Our home. You sideswiped me, Ember. Hijacked me. I’m in love. I love you.” He kept his eyes to the road, jaw tight like he was afraid that I’d reject his love.

  “My fever must be really high,” I sighed. ‘I just heard you say you love me.”

  Lucas turned, his eyes so dark they were nearly black. He put his hand on my thigh and rubbed my leg so that it tingled. A bright spot of feeling in a heavy numb body. “I do love you. I love you more than I can comprehend. And I love you more than is currently comfortable for the likes of me. But there it is anyway, so I might as well have the strength I’m always waxing poetic about and face it.”

  My eyes slipped shut and I struggled. “But Daisy hates me,” I said irrationally, but he laughed. Long and loud and it was a good sound in the cab of his truck.

  “She’ll adjust. I’m telling you, you just need to give her more treats.”

  “There are not enough treats in the world,” I sighed. “I’m going to sleep now,” I said. “I surrender.”

  “Good. Sleep is what you need to get back on your feet. Sleep and we’ll get you all tucked in and safe and don’t be surprised if I just sit and stare at you until this passes.”

  “By back on your feet you mean in shape for sex,” I snorted.

  “I do not.” There was a pause and I was almost out when he chuckled. “Okay. Mostly not. Maybe a little.”

  I smiled and that was the last I could remember until he was tucking a quilt around me on the sofa and the pleasant peaceful sounds of him moving around in the kitchen filled my ears.

  * * * *

  Six days I slept. I slept and Lucas fed me. He watched movies, chopped wood, built fires and helicopter around me like a possessive handsome maniac.

  The day I knew I was better, he helped me to the shower to get clean. “I feel like yuck and death,” I said.

  “But you look fabulous,” he joked.

  He turned the shower to scorching the way I liked it and helped me out of his old oversized sweatshirt that I had now officially claimed as mine. Then he pushed down my pajama bottoms and helped me step out. I’d lost weight and my ribs peeked out along my torso, little rails of bone that reminded me how hungry I was. My stomach growled.

  “I’m starving,” I said.

  “Good sign,” he said. Let’s get you in and out and then I’ll make you whatever you want.

  “Grilled cheese and tomato soup.”

  “Done.”

  “Brownies!”

  “Done.” He grinned at me and held my hand like I was a debutante as I climbed into the spray. I had been so weak he was afraid I’d fall.

  I dropped my head back under the falling water and when he went to pull the curtain shut a whole new kind of hunger overtook me. “Lucas?”

  “Yeah, babe.”

  “Come in here with me.”

  He peeked in, his face set resolutely. His jaw line bunched with muscle, his dark eyes hooded. He was warring with his own lust and that made him even more desirable to me in that moment. I had seen that Lucas could make me succumb to his will but he could also make me feel priceless and loved and cherished. No one had ever taken care of me the way he had since I got sick.

  “You dizzy?” he asked.

  I grinned. “Yes, I am dizzy. I am dizzy and I am hungry and I am so weak I feel like I’m made of wet tissue paper. But there’s one thing I am more than all of that.”

  “What?” His eye
s narrowed and he stared at me hard. Then his gaze broke free of his will and it skittered down my neck, over my breasts, lingered on my belly button and then my mound. I remembered that first day him watching me silently, like some predator, in his shower. A shiver of want worked through me. The fever trembles had passed, this was nothing more than arousal.

  “I’m horny,” I whispered and grabbed the front of his tee and yanked.

  I caught him off guard and he stepped forward to keep himself balanced. One leg going into the shower, his jeans darkening with wetness as I tugged and yanked at his belt, his button. He took pity and helped me with his unforgiving jeans. Finally, he dropped his head and kissed me. It was the hungriest kiss I’d ever experienced.

  When he pinned me to the cool wet tile I gasped, taking his tongue in my mouth, kissing him back, warning all the way through with the feel of his big hands on my waist, exploring my slick skin. He dipped his head and bit my throat, hard enough that a tiny spasm of pleasure sounded in my cunt. “God, I missed the feel of you. God, I was worried. You were really sick, September.”

  “I know. I’m sorry.”

  “Christ, don’t be sorry,” he said, dipped his head, sucked my nipple tight between his lips so that all of me broke out in goose bumps despite the steaming shower. “But I missed you. I missed being with you and being in you. Fuck I missed being in you.”

  “Then fix it,” I said, wrapping one leg around his hard waist, yanking as much as my meager strength would allow. “Be in me.”

  With my leg up, my pussy pressed to the jut of his hard-on. He growled against my cheek, his lips moving restlessly as he tried to kiss me everywhere at once. He pinned my arms high above my head with one broad palm and slipped the head of his cock along the wet split of me. A nudge, a thrust, a sigh and he was seated deep and my body caught up his cock and tugged. Lucas groaned and I came. Three slow thrusts and I was coming, my lips working but no sound coming out of me as the pleasure pulled me under.

  “That was easy,” he said. I felt him smile against my throat.

  “I am easy,” I said. “I missed you. I missed you in me.”

  His hand gripped my wrists harder still and he bit my nipple hard enough to make my cunt grow tight again. “I can fix that. Right now. After I feed you. After we make brownies. While we’re eating brownies, before bed,” he was joking but his voice was getting huskier and huskier as he fucked me.

  I opened my mouth and it filled with water and then his kiss. For just a moment I couldn’t breathe and then it he broke the kiss and the water fell free and I said, “Learning to drown. You told me that. Being with you would be that way. I think I’ve learned.”

  Lucas’s free hand pinned my hip to the wall and he drove into me. He watched his cock going in and out of my body, his dark eyes darker than I’d ever seen them.

  “I love you, Lucas,” I said. Realizing that I hadn’t told him so yet. Not lucid. Not since that first mistaken slip.

  “Aw, Christ,” he said and his hips drove forward. “I think we’ve both learned to drown,” he said in my ear, his face pressed to mine, his lips touching my earlobe. “You certainly taught me something about losing myself. About surrender.”

  Another orgasm rolled through me and I tipped my head back, feeling the echoes of pleasure all through my body. He pressed his teeth to my throat and came too.

  We stayed there until the water ran cold and I started to shiver again. “Matty called while you were sawing logs,” he said, drying my back with a big soft towel.

  “Oh yeah? Everything okay with the repo stuff?”

  “Fine, fine. He’s done three jobs and no one’s had to wait. Which is good. Don’t want to ruin the old reputation.” Lucas smacked my ass gently. Way more gently than he ever had before. He was just being nice, I knew there were much more staggering smacks in my future. And that turned me on.

  “Then what?”

  “He met a girl.”

  “He met a girl,” I echoed, waggling my eyebrows.

  “Yep. Get this, her name is June.”

  I snorted. “It’s a calendar theme. So he likes her?”

  “I really think he does. And it’s good. He’s moving toward his own stuff. I have you. We need this.”

  “Agreed,” I said. “And they all lived happily ever after,” I said. My stomach roared and I winced. “Food,” I said a moment later as he combed through my wet hair.

  “And then more of that.” He nodded toward the shower where we'd just coupled and grinned. He tucked my wet hair behind my ear, kissed me on the lips.

  “And then more of that,” I agreed. I totally, totally agreed.

  The End

  ABOUT SOMMER MARSDEN

  Sommer Marsden’s work has appeared in dozens anthologies and on numerous websites. Some of her favorite books include I is for Indecent, J is for Jealousy, L is for Leather,Spank Me, Tie Me Up, Whip Me, Ultimate Lesbian Erotica ‘08, Love at First Sting,Open for Business, Tasting Her, Hurts So Good and Yes, Sir. She is also writes The Seekers novellas for Eternal Press and is the author of The Anniversary Party for Whiskey Creek Press Torrid. She lives in Maryland and keeps her alter ego to herself. Not really. She had a big mouth and knows how to use it. She has many addictions and has no intentions of getting help for any of them. They currently include red wine, writing smut, long walks, the downward dog position, emails, blog hopping, and biscotti. You can reach her at hot4sommer@yahoo.com or visit her at sommermarsden.blogspot.com to keep up with her dirty ramblings.

  If you enjoyed LEARNING TO DROWN, you might also enjoy:

  MAN IN THE MIDDLE

  By Sommer Marsden

  A two story collection of hot couples who decide to make things even hotter by putting a man in the middle.

  In Some Things, a friend of Joe's stirs the pot and puts Zoe in a corner. "There are some things you simply don’t ask for. I know that. And I had done a damn fine job of keeping this particular thought-wish-dream to myself. Until that jackass, Drake, undid it all."

  Zoe ends up confessing a long-held fantasy of seeing her husband with another man while he's with her. What Zoe is not expecting after spilling the beans is that Joe will do whatever he can to make sure she gets what she wants.

  In Hidey Hole, a drawer riddled piece of furniture shows Jill a glimpse of Peter's past in a note. Now that we’re moving, I want you to know that you mean so much to me. And when I’m lonely or sad, I will always think of us together. How you smelled, how you touched me, what you tasted like...

  Jill pieces together her husband's adolescent experimentation and wonders (aloud) if he might just do it again. But this time for her. Lucky for Jill, Peter's all about pleasing his wife.

  Warnings: This title contains graphic sex and language, m/m sex, anal sex, and multiple partners.

  EXCERPT:

  From Some Things:

  “So what is it?” He didn’t look directly a t me but instead at his five o’clock shadow in the mirror. He stroked his jaw as if considering shaving. We both knew damn well he wouldn’t. He never shaved on the weekends.

  “What’s what?” I pulled the toilet paper roll so viciously I ended up with enough toilet paper for a baby elephant.

  “The fantasy you’re keeping from me.” More mirror examining as I wiped and flushed.

  “I’m not—”

  “How long have we been married?” he asked, confusing me for an instant.

  I sighed. “Thirteen years.”

  “How often do we lie to each other?”

  “Pretty much never.” I tried to scoot by him, but the bathroom was so damned small, he took a step back and nearly pinned me against the tub.

  “So why are you lying now? What’s so horrible about this fantasy that you can’t or won’t tell me?”

  “There is no fantasy!” I growled and felt my fists ball up on their own. As if on cue, I had a vivid mental flash of what I imagine almost every time we make love. I gritted my teeth and willed it away.

  “Yeah. Well,
your face says you’re lying. Your voice says you’re lying. And you look guilty as all get out.”

  “Why is this so important?” I hissed. Tears. I could feel them coming like an impending storm. And goddamn I hated to cry. My throat was squeezing shut, and my eyes were prickling. I felt panicky.

  “Because I love you.”

  From Hidey Hole:

  There was a nightstand that matched the demo dresser Peter had been showcasing. It was in this beautifully carved piece of his past that I found the letter. I pressed the drawer liner to see if this one also had a false bottom. Who knew, maybe I would find a vintage skin mag or an ancient desiccated bud of pot. Instead, I found dried up glue holding down the delicate paisley patterned liner. I was all ready to move on when a square of white-lined paper flashed in my peripheral vision. I pulled the liner a bit more and tugged the triangle of yellowed paper. “Man, someone really wedged it back there,” I said to the dog. He was lying on my feet, bored and snoozing the way dogs do.

  Simon raised his eyes, sniffed, went back to sleep. “Try not to get too excited,” I said to him. This time he didn’t even open his eyes.

  I unfolded the paper, standard college-ruled filler paper, and saw the heading Dearest Peter. I folded it back. “I shouldn’t read this Simon. I think it’s a love note.”

  Simon snorted like a pig, but beyond that he barely registered my addressing him. I sighed, curiosity getting the better of me. I unfolded the paper fast, the way you would take off a band-aid, and continued reading. The opening was mundane enough. Flirtatious and sweet and flattering. Someone who was clearly just star-struck by Peter back in the day. The date in the upper right hand corner would have put my husband at a week shy of eighteen.

  “Oh, Simon, I really, really should put this down,” I said. But I kept reading. And Simon didn’t say a word. He didn’t even raise his head or thump his tail on the hardwood floor.