by Dee Palmer
“Sshhh, baby, I’ve got you.” He holds himself deep inside me, not moving, his deep breathing vibrating through me. This is raw. Need and desire make my chest heave with the depth of emotion I feel for him. My eyes fight to hold on to my tears. “Bethany, you are everything.” It’s enough, and it’s too much. He moves just a fraction deeper, and it sends me falling, fighting to breathe, flooded with immense waves of pleasure, spasms of uncontrollable bliss. I hang on to his broad shoulders, gripping tight with my nails and my head buried in his neck, tears finally falling. I’m such a mess. He holds me for the longest time, not moving, still rock hard. My body stops shaking, and as I refocus on the most beautiful eyes staring down at me, I am rewarded with the sexiest smile and most sensual kiss. I start to move my hips, thinking he must need some relief, if my climax was anything to go by. “Don’t move, baby, I want to come, just like this, buried deep with you tight around me; my perfect fit.” I gasp as he nudges deeper.
“Not sure you fit as well as you think.” I explain with a cautious tone.
“Maybe not, but it’s still perfect.” He kisses me. He is hungry, devouring everything I return, swirling and plunging, fucking my mouth with his tongue, all the movement he is denying himself inside me. He holds me tight against him, and I moan at the passion of his kiss. I am full and stretched and I can feel him pulse deep inside, the smallest movement is enough to start another orgasm to build. “Look at me, I want to see your eyes when we come together. Do you feel that?”
“God, yes, you’re so… so deep, ahh!” I’m panting because I don’t want to move and break this amazing tension, balanced on an edge of unbelievable pleasure. I look into his eyes, and I feel him, all of him, and I love him. “I love you.”
“Fuck!” He never breaks his scorching eye contact when he comes; when I come.
He wraps me in my duvet and holds me tight into his chest, kissing and stroking my hair. Some time passes when Daniel whispers. “It doesn’t count, you know.”
“What doesn’t count?” I am tracing my fingers along the cut of his abdominal muscles, the ones that make my mouth water.
“Saying ‘I love you’ just as you’re about to have a mind-blowing orgasm.” I can feel his smile as he kisses my hair.
“Who says it was mind-blowing?” I poke his ridged muscles playfully.
“Oh, you’re right. We should rematch and go for mind-blowing.” He flips me so he is again on top, pinning me to the bed.
“It was mind-blowing!” I softly laugh, and he kisses the tip of my nose.
“I’d like you to say it when you’re not in the throes of passion.”
“I know.” I say quietly, but I am still feeling raw and exposed. Maybe later, and he seems to understand. He smiles and falls back to snuggle with me against his chest and in the crook of his arm. “But I told you when I wasn’t in the throes of passion, too.”
“Yes…yes, you did.” He kisses my hair, and I can feel his lips curl in a smile.
“Why didn’t you tell me? You knew I was Lola. Why tell me now?” I tilt my head to meet his gaze.
“I liked your honesty. You are very open when you are Lola.” His eyes soften. “And I needed your attention. That’s why I told you now, but if I’m honest, I would have preferred to have kept Lola’s secret.”
“I can understand why, but having that level of access to my inner thoughts makes me extremely vulnerable.”
“I like you vulnerable.” I tense, and he pulls me tighter. “I want you to feel you can be vulnerable with me. I would treasure that level of trust. I want you to be that open with me, but I understand it will take time. All I’m saying is that now you know that I know. I will miss Lola’s honesty.”
“I liked that level of honesty, too. It was liberating and hot. It was safe.”
“And you don’t feel safe with me.” It’s not a question. “But you will…I promise.”
I am quiet for a while, and although I have taken in everything he has said, there is one stupid question I can’t ignore.
“How did you disguise your voice? I mean, you said things that certainly sounded like you, and sometimes I did get a chill, but I never recognized your voice.”
He chuckles. “That’s your only issue with this situation? Good. It was a simple filter, which changed the octave and pitch a little and gave a little echo, but enough to alter the sound.”
“Oh…and it’s not my only issue, but the other stuff we can sort out together.” I stretch my body up his, and he leans down to cover my mouth with a soft kiss.
“Sounds good to me.” He lets out a contented breath and then groans. “This is a fucking uncomfortable bed. How do you even sleep?” He wriggles beneath me in a futile attempt to get comfortable.
“It’s better than the streets.”
He sits up shocked. “Is that really an option?” His brow is heavy with instant fury.
“Not if Sofia’s parents had anything to do with it. No, if I couldn’t live here I’d just live further in the sticks.”
“No family home?” He gently probes.
“No family home.”
“No brothers, sisters, uncles…” He pushes.
“No Daniel, no family. I told you Sofia’s family is my family, well, and my mum.” I need to know what Kit told him, but it’s just going to come across as jealousy. “So who was the lucky lady?” I try for mild interest.
“There’s no need to be jealous, Bethany.” His voice is deadly serious, no teasing with this potentially volatile subject.
“Just so as you know, I don’t actually get jealous. You either want to be with me, or you should have enough backbone to say you don’t. It’s not about jealousy or cheating, it’s about trust, and it was never about not trusting you, Daniel.” He looks a little confused, and I can’t explain further without exposing Kit.
“She’s a widow, sad, really. She had amnesia when she was twenty-two. Can’t remember a thing. She’s had to build her whole life by herself. She was married to some rich financier but he died earlier this year in a car accident. They weren’t married long apparently. Anyway, she met my mother at some function, and my mother adores her; thought the auction would be fun.”
“Amnesia?” I try not to choke on my disbelief.
“Yes, she’s has a rather nasty scar.”
“On her neck?” This seems to make a little more sense.
“Yes.” He draws his brows together. “How did you know?”
“Saw it, saw the back of her.” It would’ve been where her tattoo was removed, not the right image having ‘Dick’s’, her then boyfriend’s brand, for all to see. Only works when you’re a horny teenager, I guess. “What’s her name?”
“Kassandra, Kassandra Shaw.”
“Did you like her?” I don’t know why I insist on knowing this; it hurts to just know she’s spent time with him.
“Fake gold digger? Oh yes, I loved her. We’ve got a date next week.” I know he’s trying to joke, and he has no idea the baggage I carry for that woman. So rather than him think that I really don’t have a sense of humour, I lean over and pinch his nipple, really hard.
“Fuck! It was a joke!” He pouts, rubbing his poor injured body part.
“So was that!” I smirk and roll out of bed. ”Hot drink? Ovaltine, Coco, Bailey’s…Me?” He lunges to grab my leg growling.
“Definitely you.” I slip through his fingers, giggling. I put some milk on to heat and go to fetch the cups, when I hear loud footsteps up to my door. The door swings open and Sofia’s standing with tears in her eyes. I drop the cups and run to her. “Sofs, what’s up? Is it Marco? Is Paul all right? Sofs, why are you crying?” The pitch of my voice is rising with every question.
“Bets, they tried to call you. Then they called me, and I came straight over.” She swallows, “Bets, it’s your mum, she’s had a heart attack. She’s stable, but they said you should hurry.” For the second time today, I see dark spots and hear muffled voices only this time, I am swept up into warm stron
g arms before I hit the floor.
I PUT THE phone down gently after finishing my call with the nurse in the intensive care unit at the home. They had taken the decision not to move her to the general hospital, as there was really nothing they could do that they weren’t doing in the unit. Daniel is holding my hand, and Sofia is making some warm milk.
“They said it was too late to go down tonight, and that I should wait until morning.” I start to cry, and Sofia is at my side as Daniel stands and walks to my bedroom. My arms are wrapped tightly around my waist. I can’t stop shivering.
“It’s probably for the best, Bets. There’s nothing you can do tonight. Maybe try and get some sleep?” She squeezes my leg, and I feel Daniel sit next to me. He is dressed and is carrying my clothes.
“Hey, baby, let’s put these on.” He takes my arms and carefully slips on a soft T-shirt and warm sweater with leggings and some sheepskin boots. He scoops me into his arms. “My driver is outside. I’m taking her to see her mum.” Sofia nods, and I take enormous comfort from the strong chest my head is resting on, glad I am not making these decisions.
Daniel’s fast car makes light work of the nighttime motorway traffic. We pull up the gravel drive just before two in the morning, and the night porter from the other night kindly lets us in.
“I’m so sorry, my dear.” He holds my hand, and I wonder if I will be able to handle this, if this is the norm in these situations. What do I even say, ‘It’s okay’ when it clearly isn’t? ‘Yes she is or was’? Did they even know her? I literally don’t know what to say.
“Thank you, that’s very kind.” Daniel moves forward to shake the porter’s hand. Yes, that’s what I need to say, thank you, I’ll remember that. I feel strangely detached and on autopilot at the same time. I walk toward the intensive care rooms where she has been moved. The nurse greets me.
“I’m so sorry, Bethany. She’s comfortable now, and she is talking a little, but I’m afraid there’s nothing more we can do. She’s such a lovely lady. We’re going to miss her.” She presses my hand in hers.
“Thank you.” I say quietly. “You’re very kind.” I let her hand slip from mine and go to find my mum. Her door is closed, and I open it quietly. She’s sleeping, and I take a seat by her side. I hold her delicate hand, her skin fragile and soft like silk, translucent and very thin. Daniel takes a seat in the corner of the room, squeezing his large frame into a tall backed chair. I sit beside her bed until the morning light starts to break through the curtains. The day shift has just taken over, and for the first time since I sat down, my mum moves a little. “Hey, mum, I hear you’re causing trouble? They brought me back specially to sort you out.” I swallow back the rising lump. She looks so pale, not like her at all. Her glow is no longer around her, but she still looks like an angel, with her light grey fluffy hair spread around the pillow like a halo. She opens her eyes, and her gaze is glassy, but she looks straight at me, a spark of recognition and a faint smile.
“Hey, baby, Boo.” She squeezes my hand and instant tears pool my eyes. She hasn’t called me by my nickname for years. Even when she did recognize me, it was always Bethany.
“Hey, Mum.” My voice is breaking, and I don’t want to cry. I don’t want to upset her. I want her to talk, and I want her to remember.
“I’m so sorry, Boo, I try so hard to remember. I try so hard for you, my baby.” Her eyes glisten.
“It’s all right, mum. You know it’s fine, you mustn’t worry.” I want to reassure her.
“You have to know, you have to know.” She looks so sad and holds my hand a little tighter. “They didn’t leave you, they left, but they didn’t leave you. Your Father, he never knew about you, I wrote to him one time, when you were sixteen. I thought I’d made a mistake by not telling him. I thought he would come, but when he didn’t, I knew I was right that I kept it from you. That you never knew who he was. But you should know, he didn’t leave you, he left me, and I tried so hard not to leave you, baby. I tried to remember, I tried not to leave you.” She closes her eyes, and I use that time to take some deep tear-fighting breaths, if this is the last thing she remembers, I don’t want it to be regret and sadness.
“Mum, I love my life with you, and I wouldn’t change a thing. No one left that we wanted to stay. I miss you, mum, but you’ve always loved me, and I’ve always felt loved. You are the best mum, the best.” I lift her small hand and press my kiss, holding it. Fuck, I’m going to cry. Don’t bloody cry, Bets.
“She shouldn’t have left you alone, you were still a baby, I won’t forgive her. You didn’t deserve that. I’m so sorry I wasn’t there.” Even in this frail state her anger is fierce.
“Mum. Mum, listen. Please listen. I wasn’t a baby; I was your baby, but I wasn’t a baby. You are a wonderful mum, and I’m so lucky you are my mother.” I desperately need her to believe me.
“Promise me.” She smiles, and her eyes sparkle.
“You name it? You want me to take you to the top of the Beacon again?” I want her to think about good things, remember good memories.
“Don’t be afraid, don’t let our past and your past, your past with John--” I suck in a sob “--don’t let that make you too scared to live. For me, promise me that, Boo, and I’ll promise to remember all the good things.” I can feel my tears rolling down my cheeks. I know I won’t be able to speak without releasing a sob, so I swallow and sniff back the tears. They need to stop.
“Mum.” I squeeze her hand, and she opens her eyes. “I promise.”
She smiles and closes her eyes again. “Good girl. You always were a good girl, when you weren’t off gallivanting.” I laugh aloud, a booming laugh combined with a heartbreaking sob. God, I’ve missed her so much. I hold her hand up and kiss the back of her hand again and rub the soft bony knuckles against my wet face.
“I promise, mum.” I lean up and kiss her hollow cheek.
“Promise what, dear?” She doesn’t open her eyes again, her grip on my hand loosens, and her breathing fades. My head is pressed into the bed, and I let out some bone-shaking sobs, muffled by the thickness of the mattress.
“Hey, baby, time to go.” I have been sitting in the day room, the sun bright and the sky clear, a perfect day to see the spectacular views of the South Coast. I have signed papers and have been given a box with Mum’s personal belongings to take. It seems everything was packed in readiness. I could think that cold, but I don’t think anything at the moment. Daniel has dealt with the management and has taken all the details to sort through with me later. I go to stand, and he scoops me into his arms. I laugh, it’s ridiculous. “I can walk.”
“I know, I just want you close-- closer.” I rest my head on his chest. I want that too.
The drive back is quiet; there’s not much to say. I think the funeral will be in a few days.
“I know this is a stupid question.” Daniel interrupts my thoughts.
“But you’re going to ask anyway?” I smile.
He nods. “How are you doing?”
“Not a stupid question. I’m… well… I’m ok. I lost my mum a long time ago. I visited because I always hoped she’d remember, but for the last eighteen months I’ve been visiting this lovely old lady who didn’t have a clue who I was but knew I was really good at crafts.” I laugh a little. “I’ve missed her for so long, and she was back today, and it was like a punch to the chest. I feel winded and bruised, but it was the best feeling to have her, even for a short time. I’ll be fine.” I put my hand on his thigh and squeezed his tight muscle.
“I fucking hate it when you say that.” He mutters not wanting to be angry with me. I smile at him.
“I am enormously sad,” I sigh heavily, “but I will be okay with this. I’ve had a long time to let go, so, no, I’m not fine, but I will be. Is that better?”
“Yes.” He reaches for my hand. “What did she mean by not knowing who your father was? I thought you knew who he was?”
“I did… I do… he just left when I was born. I think maybe
she was a little confused. I think maybe she wanted me to understand that it wasn’t me they left” I laugh sadly.
“Mmm, maybe. And she was right, they didn’t leave you.” He pulls my fingers to his lips and softly kisses them.
“That’s semantics, Daniel. I do believe the net result is the same, the net result is my life, and I am left alone.” I turn my face to the now grey sky, unable to stop the falling tears. He doesn’t allow me much time to wallow when he pulls me into his lap and folds his strong arms around me, encasing me in his warm embrace, stroking my hair and gently kissing my cheeks for the rest of the journey.
“Daniel?” I tilt my head to meet his somber face.
“Yes?” His tender smile warms me.
“Thank you.” I can’t think about all he’s done and why, or I will fall apart, but he just continues to smile his amazing smile right back at me.
Daniel insisted I stay with him, and he’s not left my side, although he does always have a phone attached to his ear trying to work. He has smoothed things over with the University and even had lecture notes couriered over, so I don’t miss anything crucial. Sofia’s family has been wonderful and have arranged the funeral and a small gathering in the day room after the ceremony. I have written a few things I want to say. I don’t know yet whether I will, but that is my plan.
We travel down in two cars, I’m with Daniel, and Sofia is with Paul, her parents, and Marco. Other than a few residents and caretakers, the room at the crematorium is sparse and soulless. We file slowly into the room where a brief service will be given. I am grateful for the warmth I feel from both Daniel and Marco’s hands, which hold mine, but it is painfully insufficient when I’m chilled to the bone at the image in the front row. Iron straight bright blond hair falls down from a ridiculously ostentatious hat, given the surroundings. Immaculate, in a black Prada dress and jacket, she turns dry eyed with a pseudo-sad face, and I stand transfixed. Daniel places his other hand on my arm to urge me forward, thinking I am overwhelmed by the proceedings.
