Captive Hearts

by Harper Bliss

  Of course, it wasn’t Thalia’s fault that I could never live up to what the combination of my dreamy blue eyes, high cheekbones and job title promised. Thalia’s words, not mine.

  With Thalia, the coup de foudre was purely physical. Hormones racing through my blood, clouding my judgment. Of all the antidepressants I ever ingested, not one ever beat the rush of falling in love.

  It takes almost more willpower than I have to not trace a finger over Kay’s hand, to not cup her hand with my palm and press it against my breast. But with her, it’s different. The entire approach is opposite to what I’m used to. Falling in love and busting it up. Curing heartbreak by going out into the night in search of a fresh dopamine shot, when I’d much rather stay in to read a book. The endless cycle of work, chase, thrill, something-close-enough-to-love-to-tide-me-over, break-up, more work. As long as I didn’t have to stop to think about what I was doing with my life—and why.

  But every cycle broke me a little more until, after Thalia, I looked in the mirror and knew I couldn’t go out there anymore. Not because I was certain I had lost the love of my life—as I had been so many times before—but because it was obvious that I hadn’t. So what was I crying for?

  “Penny for your thoughts.” Kay’s fingers dig into the flesh just under my breast.

  “Hey.” She could give a million dollars for my thoughts, it would be in vain because my brain stopped working the instant her fingers pressed down. “Didn’t mean to wake you.” I try to keep my body as still as possible.

  “What time is it?”

  “Around five, I think.” Kay’s hand balls into a fist, grabbing onto the fabric of my t-shirt. The first soft light of dawn makes its way underneath the curtains.

  “Sleep like a log again?” Her voice is still warm with sleepiness.

  “Not this time.” I clear my throat. “I think that, this time around, I was the one who couldn’t keep certain images out of my head.”

  Kay’s early morning chuckle is much sweeter than her middle-of-the-day belly roar. “Is that so?” She relaxes her fingers and fans them out, the tip of her thumb touching the underside of my breast. “Can you describe the images to me? Maybe I can help.” Despite the early hour, an urgency has already started creeping into her voice.

  I shake my head, my cheek bumping into her nose. “But I can show you.” At last, I grab her hand, hold her fingers hard against my skin.

  Kay doesn’t need much encouragement and, just like I thought she always would, she takes control. Her hand, still covered with mine, sneaks upward and cups my breast. Through the fabric of my t-shirt, my nipple pokes hard against her palm, straining, wanting more.

  Kay pushes herself up on her other arm and looks down at me. No words are needed. I suspect my eyes are blazing with desire, screaming that I’m ready, that I want her. Now.

  While her fingers massage my breast—nothing tentative about the motion anymore—Kay leans down and kisses me. Our mouths are closed at first, but only for a few seconds. Soon, her tongue darts between my lips and the kiss deepens while two of Kay’s fingers close around my nipple. My body stiffens at her pinch, and our lips lose touch. When I open my eyes and look into Kay’s face, I see nothing but lust and understanding and, perhaps, acceptance. Kay sees me with different eyes, through a lens that, maybe, no one has ever seen me through before and, most astonishingly, she’s still here. And although I didn’t come back to Northville for this, in this moment, it feels like everything I’ve ever wanted, for all the right reasons, is compressed into that glance.

  It’s as if something has gone off in Kay’s brain. Still controlled, but with much more purpose, her hand slides down my t-shirt and, in a flash, underneath. Her fingers on my skin produce an entirely different sensation, leaving me panting into her mouth as her lips crash down onto mine again.

  While this is also about release, about undoing the tension that’s been building between us for days, the main qualifier is intimacy. Because that too has been growing. As mindless as that first moment of surrender may be, that instant I give myself up to her, offer myself into her beautiful, strong hands, I’m there all the way. All of me shows up when Kay’s fingers close around my nipple without any barriers for the first time. My heart and my soul are in the next kiss we share.

  My t-shirt has ridden up, but only exposes my belly. I want to feel more of her. Awkwardly, I start hoisting up her t-shirt, but half of her body is in the way.

  “Hold on.” Kay pushes herself away from me for an instant and yanks her t-shirt over her head. Although I’ve seen her naked before—in a hurry in the dark—this time could not be more different. My eyes are glued to her breasts, the darkness of her tiny nipples, the sheen of her skin in the brightening morning light. I push myself up so I can lay my hands on her chest. Kay kneels next to me and I mirror her image, only briefly refraining from touching her so she can remove my t-shirt. We sit opposite each other, naked from the waist up, and the fire that rages in my stomach is nothing compared to the wild thumping between my legs.

  I guess, for the sake of romance, and perhaps memory, this should go slowly: deliberate movements stealing over our skin, finding the right spots. Not this frenzy, as Kay said last night. But my fingers itch with the desire for frantic groping and my body is ready for abandon, for mindlessness, for giving myself up to her completely in a tangle of flesh, skin, hair, and limbs.

  I dreamed of Kay entering me slowly while she gazed into my eyes, but it’s not how I want her now. It’s as though I step out of myself, out of this body and, especially, this mind that has constrained me for so long. I lunge for her. Like a tiger, I throw myself on top of her. Our breasts collide and Kay topples over onto her back. I’m not too far gone to check if this is what she wants, but when our eyes meet, there’s no room for doubt. This is not the same Kay who came for me last night, who pressed me against the door of the fridge with all her might, only to pull back when the kiss got too intense.

  She’s been seeing the same images in her mind, I can tell.

  “I want to feel you,” I hiss, my hand traveling down toward her panties, but she beats me to it, yanking down her knickers while my body breathes heavily on top of her.

  I give her space to take off her underpants and get rid of my own in the process. Looking at her, completely naked in my bed, gives me pause. Because as much as it is frenzy and lust and two bodies bursting with desire, it’s so much more than that. It’s love. Or, at least, the beginning of it. It’s more than falling in love, more than hormones going bonkers in my blood, more than the crazy pull of chemistry bringing us together. Because, despite only just really getting to know each other, Kay already knows me better than anyone. It intensifies the rapid beat of blood in my veins, the quick pulse of my heart vibrating throughout my body, the electricity on my skin.

  For all the times I believed I was making love, to Thalia and every other woman that came before her, I know now that I was wrong. Any lingering trace of doubt in my mind about giving in to this, about being with Kay interfering with my healing process, evaporates at the sight of her beneath me. Because it’s not just her body in front of me, waiting with bated breath, it’s all of her and all of me, about to be joined together. For the first time since I woke up in the hospital, I actually feel, all the way into my bones, that I’m happy to be alive.

  Tears sting behind my eyes, but I ignore them, because, for once, they’re the right kind of tears. I lift myself off her and extend my hand to Kay. She grabs it, pulling herself up. We sit on our knees facing each other again, a calmness clinging to the anticipation of what is about to transpire. I slide my knees apart and pull her toward me. From the movement of the sheets below me, I deduct she’s doing the same. Both of us kneeling, open, ready, spread wide for each other.

  My breath picks up speed when we kiss again, when our rock hard nipples bounce off each other, my arms pulling her as close as I can. My right hand wanders down, as does hers, meeting in the small space we left between our bel
lies. Our mouths stay connected, like our souls now, while our hands drift apart: mine between her legs, hers between mine.

  The double sensation of feeling Kay there for the first time and her touching me where I haven’t been touched in a long time, nearly floors me. I have to hold on to her for support, lifting my body a little higher, my one elbow resting on her shoulder.

  Her breath in my mouth, her flesh so close to mine I can feel the rhythm of her heart against my skin, her finger hovering over my pussy lips. And then, stars colliding in my brain, a wave of pleasure rolling over me, as her finger circles my clit. Slowly at first, small, controlled circles through the wetness that has pooled there. And I do the same to her, only my finger slides along the length of her pussy. My breath catches in my throat at how wet she is for me. How ready.

  How many days ago did I arrive at West Waters? Is that when the foreplay started? It doesn’t matter, because Kay’s finger becomes more insistent, and I try to follow her pace. I dip lower, brace my core, and let my finger slide inside of her. It cuts off my own breath because her arm pulls me closer, losing control of her hand in my hair, the fingers of her other hand zoning in on my swollen clit again.

  It’s difficult to not give in to the pangs of pleasure tumbling down my stomach, the lightning in my blood, but I’m on a mission as well. My finger burrows deep inside of Kay. Our kiss has stalled. My mouth hangs open in front of Kay’s face, ragged puffs of breath pulsing out of me to the rhythm of my thrusts. I add another finger, trying to ignore how my own pleasure mounts, how my entire body thunders toward climax—but it’s been so long and this is too much. All this blood flowing freely in my veins. My heart beating so exuberantly, after I wanted to make it stop.

  Kay’s finger is insistent, rubbing tiny circles around my clit, faster, creating a vibrating sensation, and I give up, because the orgasm takes me—months of release gushing out from between my legs, all the muscles in my body shaking, my mouth open wide, my eyes filled with tears. Involuntarily, my finger slips out of her as I collapse on top of her.

  She cradles me in her arms while I catch my breath. I didn’t used to be like this, I think. I used to require a whole lot more than a finger rubbing along my clit to make me come, but I realize it’s not about what she did to me with her hands. It’s about how she made me feel. Alive. Safe. Understood.

  I revive quickly with Kay’s arms around me and when I straighten my posture, I see she’s crying as well. Just a few tiny drops caught in the corner of her eyes, but tears nonetheless.

  “Are you all right?” I ask, instinctively.

  “Oh yes.” A grin breaks through the grave expression on her face. “I barely touched you. Was it one of those spiritual orgasms?”

  I want to wave away her silly comment, but it hits me that it may just have been. Biology is my profession. I have extensive knowledge of the human body’s blood flow, its nerve endings, and the chemical and biological processes related to orgasm. Still, in my heart, I acknowledge there was more to this particular climax than the cause and effect of fingers on my clit in a highly aroused state. But I have neither time nor inclination to ponder this further. I have unfinished business.

  “I guess my clit is rather fond of your fingers.” I chuckle at the silliness of my own comment.

  “And my fingers want to touch a whole lot more of you.” Kay grins.

  I tip my head and rest my eyes on her. “That may very well be, but they’re going to have to wait.” I put my hands on her shoulders and start lowering her onto the bed. I gaze down at her, into her sparkling, dark eyes, and I feel saved already. More of a functioning person than when I woke up earlier this morning.

  I drape my body half onto hers, leaving enough room to let my fingers wander over her skin.

  “Don’t tease me, Ella.” Kay’s voice is firm. “I need it now.”

  Time to finish what I started. The exact opposite of what I fantasized about happens. Instead of Kay slowly bringing her fingers to my wet pussy lips, I’m the one slipping the tip of my finger along her folds while looking deep into her eyes. I hold my hand still for an instant, locking my gaze on hers again, and go deep with two fingers. Her muscles stiffen underneath me, her eyes falling shut. Her moan is the most beautiful sound in the world. It’s still a little bit controlled, but frayed enough around the edges to distinguish it from any other sound in any other circumstance. It’s the sound of promise, of things to come.

  I move slowly inside of her, feeling the velvety inside of her pussy. The hotness seems to shoot straight through my fingers, making my clit throb again.

  I give my fingers more purpose, more thrusting than feeling, fucking her—fucking Kay Brody. Underneath me, the sight is magical. Kay’s head tossed back into the pillows, her breasts moving to the rhythm of my strokes, her skin glistening in the morning light, her pelvis bucking upward. The sight of ecstasy. To think I would have missed this had my attempt not failed.

  While upping my pace and starting to brush my thumb over her clit at slow intervals, I close my lips around her nipple. I’m as close to her as I can be. Inside of her, on top of her, my lips on her—her body surrendering to me. I inhale the scent of her skin, of that body that has been glued to mine for two nights in a row.

  “Oh god,” Kay moans, her breath stuttering in between the sounds she utters. She’s close, I can feel it in the contractions of her muscles, the tautness of her skin, so I clamp down on her nipple harder, increase the depth of my strokes and let my thumb hover over her clit, allowing her to choose the amount of pressure applied.

  Kay’s nails delve deep into my flesh, possibly breaking skin—a mark I’ll proudly carry—while the back of her head disappears further into the pillow, exposing her neck. Then her body relaxes, her limbs falling to her side. Her eyes are still closed as I kiss her neck, her chin, her slightly parted lips.

  “I won’t be able to speak for a few minutes,” Kay huffs. She opens her arms wide and I nestle against her shoulder, listening to the wild pitter-patter of her heart. We lie in complete, blissful silence for a while.

  Out of nowhere, a loud banging on the cabin door startles us.

  “What the—” Kay’s body goes rigid, toppling me off her.

  I check the alarm clock. It’s not even six in the morning. Did I switch my phone off? Did something happen to Mom or Dad? In a panic, I scramble for clothes, quickly throwing on the t-shirt I slept in and hoping it’s long enough to cover me while I answer the door.

  “Maybe it’s for me,” Kay hollers behind me.

  I unlock the front door, peeking my head through the crack, trying to hide most of my body. I have to blink twice before I recognize the person standing in front of me, before it registers.

  “Hope I didn’t wake you, Sis,” Nina says, an undecipherable smile on her face.

  Chapter Twenty

  “Kay? Is that you?” Nina’s accent sounds different. She looks healthy, lean but in a wiry, sinewy way. Her skin has tanned to a deep cinnamon color. Her bleached hair is pulled back in a messy ponytail. For someone who, most likely, just got off a flight from the other end of the world, she looks surprisingly well put together.

  Behind me, Kay grumbles something. I’m still too flabbergasted to move, and painfully aware of not wearing any underwear.

  “Were you two…?” Nina’s face breaks out into a wide, knowing smile. “What the hell, Ellie? I know we’re not the kind, but give your big sister a hug, will you?” She steps forward, arms wide.

  I make my way from behind the door, pulling the t-shirt down as best I can, but it barely covers my behind. It doesn’t matter though, because when Nina wraps her arms around me and holds me close—when it sinks in that my sister whom I haven’t seen in the flesh for years, is here—I relax and let the tears come.

  “What are you doing here?” I ask, while wetting her top with my tears.

  “Do you have to ask? What on earth have you done, Ellie? I was so worried about you.”

  Any other person woul
d have sent an e-mail to announce her arrival, but not my sister. Being like everyone else was never high on Nina Goodman’s wish list. “I wasn’t expecting you to come here.”

  We break from our hug. Nina eyes my skimpy attire. “Well, I’m here anyway. Why don’t you put some clothes on to celebrate?”

  While I rush to the bedroom to find a pair of shorts, the smell of sex penetrating my nostrils, I hear muffled voices from the living room.

  “Last I heard you were shacked up with Jeff Mitchum.” I hear Nina say when I re-enter the living room.

  “That was a long time ago, Nina.” Kay is not easily fazed, though, and Nina’s sudden arrival doesn’t throw her as much as it does me.

  “Swinging both ways, huh? Good for you.” Nina practically thumps Kay in the biceps. I can tell she hasn’t changed much. Apart from the blood flowing in our veins, we never had that much in common.

  “I’d best leave you girls to it.” Kay finds my eyes and I give her a nod. When she heads to the bedroom I follow her in there briefly.

  “I can’t believe it.”

  “That’s Nina Goodman for you.” Kay scans the room for the clothes she was wearing yesterday. “Go be with your sister, Ella.”

  I step closer to her and fold my arms around her waist. “Sorry about the interruption.”

  “Don’t worry about that. I’ll be around later.” She plants a chaste kiss on the top of my head and frees herself from my embrace.

  I shoot her one last longing glance before rejoining my sister in the living room. Kay stumbles out not long after me.

  “See you later, Goodmans,” she says, before closing the front door behind her.

  “Coffee?” I eye Nina. The shock is starting to subside.

  Nina nods. “Fuck, Ellie. Why did you do it?” Nina is always best at asking the questions everyone else is trying to avoid. Yet another reason why she couldn’t stay.

  “You can’t just turn up here out of the blue and ask me that.” I lean against the kitchen counter, not making any moves toward brewing coffee.