The Way Home

by Simpson, Stefanie

  Em’s phone buzzed, and seeing it was Ryan, her heart tripped. “Hey hot stuff, how’s things?”

  “Fine.”

  “I’m on my way home, do you want to come to me, or me to you.” She heard the breath he released.

  “I’ll come to you. I don’t want to be here, I want…”

  “I know, I’ll be home in ten, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  She kept to the speed limit, just, he needed her, it was time, for what she wasn’t sure, maybe he would tell the things he kept hidden while she healed, things that were important to him. She knew that he hadn’t told her much of what happened to him, and she hoped it was time.

  He was parked in front of her house when she pulled up. He took in her appearance, shorts, tights, and sequin top that fell off her shoulder, big puffy parka covering her.

  “Come on.” He followed her in, bag in hand.

  He didn’t say anything, but he had the demeanour of when they first met. He scowled.

  “I need a shower, have you eaten?”

  He shook his head.

  “Well, either order something, or mooch in the fridge, I’m starved. Feed your woman.”

  After a nod, he ordered a Chinese takeaway, it would be forty-five minutes, and he heard the shower turn on. He knocked on the door and went in when she called.

  He stared, and she tilted her head. “Want to join me?”

  She picked up the stool and put in in the shower and undressed him. He pulled his legs out of his feet and sat on the stool in the shower, and she straddled his lap, the hot water falling on them. He leant back on the tiles, as she closed the door.

  They kissed, hot and hungry, and she felt the need in him, it was the intensity that he had when they first kissed. There was so much she didn’t know about him, and she needed every bit. She met his demand, met his want. She pulled his lower lip in her teeth, and his eyes opened. There was the abyss, and pain unguarded.

  She moved a little on him, his cock now hard as a rock between them. It rubbed on her clit. She reached for the shower gel, and soaped him as the familiar citrus smell of her made him hum. She shampooed her hair and conditioned it, his hands moved over her, and lifting her a little, he settled her on him, both groaning as she slid down. Her toes just touched the floor, and she moved up and down on him.

  She held his face in her hands. “What do you need?”

  “Make me forget.” She kissed him, giving everything. His fingertips bit into her scalp, she stopped moving, and he took over, he broke the kiss, needing air, thrusting up to her in a relentless rhythm, she came, and he followed quickly.

  She fell against him as he slumped back on the tiles. She leant back, to rinse the conditioner out of her hair, he opened his eyes, and the pain there was horrible. She wanted to take it all away.

  They were settling down when their food arrived, and they ate in silence with his unease and discomfort growing again.

  “You can tell me. I’m right here.” She was careful not to touch him. He put down his empty plate, Cap lifted her head for a moment, huffed, and went back to sleep. The wood burner popped, the warm heat made the room glow a little.

  “Care was difficult for me. It is for most people who go through it in some way. Sometimes people are just shit, and they use the vulnerability of people to give them the importance they crave. Knowing that doesn’t make it, better does it?”

  “No.”

  He shifted to face her, and her heart was in her mouth.

  “I was in a few foster homes for a while, moved about, nothing terrible, except for one, when I was little she would hold me down, and shave my head, in case we caught nits. I was only about five or six. I hate having my hair cut to this day, particularly in the army. It’s why I let it grow out for as long possible now.”

  He blinked a few times, his mind elsewhere.

  “It was easier to find placements as a younger child, but when I was fourteen, I grew a foot, I think I was put in a children’s home then, I lost track of some if it, anyway, no one wants to foster a child nearly six foot. It was in the middle of nowhere, great big house, gardens. It was okay for me. People took one look at me and went the other way, but not everyone was so lucky.

  “Some of those children had real problems, and the kids that didn’t, shouldn’t have been there, but there was nowhere else for us to go. It felt like somewhere between a youth offender place and a halfway house. We were never beaten or anything like that, but it was hard. Most of the people who worked there were nice. Some not so much.

  “It was the other kids you had to be careful of. A boy came, he was fourteen or fifteen, I don’t remember now, he was younger than I was, and I was sixteen at the time. He had been in the system too long, but unlike me, he had been in atrocious situations. I see that now. I couldn’t see it for a long time, he was just this monster, but he must have been very damaged. He tortured some of the others for weeks. He’d put cigarettes out on them, beat them, then he cornered this boy, he was only twelve, and I saw it. He was going to hurt him, and I couldn’t let it happen. I pulled the kid off and beat the fucking crap out of him.

  “When we were pulled apart, he had to go to hospital. There was a big meeting with the social workers, I told them what happened, what he was like, how no one else bothered to stop him, so I did, and I had never been in trouble before. Me doing that made them think twice, they knew what that boy was, and he should never have been in that home.

  “It was all swept under the carpet, I was never charged, he never came back, but the damage had been done. Griff was a sweet boy. He followed me about afterwards, but I timed out of the system. Not everyone is as lucky as I was, my support worker was great, and he helped me with the transition, and I joined the army.

  “I’ve thought about Griff over the years; he said when he was old enough he would be like me.” Ryan took a deep breath. “He found me. He joined the Marines. He’s okay.” Ryan cleared his throat, thick with emotion. “He’s twenty-eight, just got out, and he thanked me for that day. Said I saved him.” He wet his lips. “He had wanted to find me and thank me for years, for what I did for him.” Ryan shook his head.

  Em’s eyes were large, and she stared at him with pride and adoration.

  “You are incredible.” She took held his face and studied his pinched face. “Tell me.”

  “I used to think back on what happened, and sometimes I wished that I killed that boy, I thought he was evil. But now I’m ashamed, I wasn’t a violent kid, and it was the first time I had done that, you should have seen me, I beat the bloody hell out of him. I broke his nose, jaw, two ribs. I hurt him. I kicked him in the balls a couple of times, did some damage to them.

  “I expected to go to prison, I calmly accepted it. But nothing happened, I wasn't punished, and it went away.”

  “And Griff?”

  “Said I changed his life.”

  Em thought about it. “You saved that boy, and maybe, the kid you beat up, maybe he’d think again about giving into his impulses. Maybe you did him a favour, and all his victims to be. Maybe it wasn’t just Griff you saved. I’m not violent, but what you did was the only thing you could have done at the time. I wish someone had done that for me when I was seventeen.”

  Ryan’s pained eyes went to Em. “What did he do?”

  “Tonight isn’t about my tale of woe.”

  “Em, what did he do?”

  “Coercion, emotional abuse, he tried to brainwash me I guess. It’s not the things he got me to do, it was that I did them, I gave my power to another, and he used it against me. One of the many reasons I love you is that you make me feel powerful. Even when you take charge, it’s because you love me, because you respect me.

  “I’m willing to give you things that I have never willingly given to anyone else. I think you're incredible.”

  Ryan stood up, and picked her up, without a word, he took her to bed. They lay for a long time, not doing anything, h
e just held her to him, she understood, he didn’t need sex then, just intimacy. Closeness.

  A few hours later, Ryan was inspecting her body, she didn’t know why, but it was delightful, he made his way with hands, lips, and tongue, all over her. He reached her calves and ran his hand over her foot, and she jumped. He smiled at her, holding her feet still.

  “I used to be ticklish, not that anyone ticked my feet, but you know, never thought I’d miss that, but I do. You have cute feet.”

  “I hate feet. I think they’re disgusting. I don’t enjoy a pedicure; I grit my teeth and think of puppies, rainbows, and unicorns. I can just about touch my own feet without retching.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  “Ask Jess. Men’s feet are the worst.” She shuddered.

  Ryan blinked. “Is that why you wear fancy shoes?”

  “Hmm, maybe, I’d not thought about it.”

  “I wondered if you didn’t mind my feet being missing, or…”

  “Have I done or said anything to indicate I have any lingering issues about it?”

  “No. Did you really hate me when we first met?”

  “A little if I’m honest. I was afraid, unnerved. I was attracted to you, but everything about you was everything I thought I didn’t want. I was very wrong.”

  “Good. Hold still.” He ran his hands over her feet, and she screamed and pulled away.

  “Stop it.” She laughed.

  “Hold still.”

  “Or what?”

  His face darkened, his eyebrow went up. She grinned. “I love it when you do that.”

  “What?”

  “That scowly thing. Want to play?”

  His breath caught, they both wanted to let go, and they both needed something. Thoughts of their pasts were fresh and intense. She wanted to give her power to him, not fully, but for a little while. She kept thinking about Ryan fucking her in the kitchen, there was no other word for it, he had held her arms behind her back, taken possession of her, it wasn’t something that she wanted all the time, but there was part of her that needed to give herself to him.

  “Play?” he cleared his throat.

  She nodded. “I want it to be up to you what we do, and I want to submit to you. Take control of this.”

  He sat up. “I don’t know.”

  “Like in the kitchen that time, part of me wants to see. Please.”

  “Okay,” he went red in the face, and he knelt up, his cock already hard. “But, you need to tell me if you’re not okay.”

  “Yes, should we, I dunno, have a safe word, um, sapphires.”

  “Really?”

  “They’re my favourite stone.” She shrugged.

  She got off the bed and ferreted out two floaty soft scarves. “Are you sure?” he looked at them as she passed them to him.

  “Yes, but if you’re not comfortable with it, that’s fine, we don’t have to.”

  He took a slow breath and kissed her, pulling her back to the bed. He pressed her to his body. He pulled back, looking at the scarves and then her, and a slow, dirty smirk crept up his face.

  She nodded, unbelievably excited.

  Em had been to orgies, sex parties, and clubs, she had been to bondage displays, she had experimented in a few scenes, but she had never submitted like this, never allowed herself to be in this intimate position without someone there to pull her back if she needed it. This was new to her because other things lurked at the back of her mind, but Ryan was different, and she wanted this.

  He lay her on her back, so carefully, and kissing the inside of her wrist, he pushed her leg, so it bent, and he tied her ankle to her wrist and the same with the other. It wasn’t what she had expected, her heart stuttered, and stomach dipped. She smiled. Her legs stretched wide apart, knees bent, completely open to him.

  He hesitated, conflicted for a moment.

  “I want this.”

  He nodded and kissed down her stomach, he kissed over her neat little triangle of hair and ran his tongue down over her clit, and he lazily ate her until she squirmed and begged, but kept his pace until she came. She made soft little noises as she caught her breath, her face flushed.

  She felt the wet tip of his erection meet her leg as he knelt up.

  “Open wider.” She obeyed and flushed more, as his face became lustful, a brow rose, and eyes glazed. “I love how wet you get. He ran his finger over the top of her thigh. I make you that wet. No one else.”

  “Only you.” She steadied her breath.

  “That’s right. Do you picture me when you write?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you touch yourself when you think of me?”

  “Yes.” She wet her lips, and concentrated on her breathing, he had read her books, and he knew what she wrote. She understood. Her third was due to come out next week, and she had never shared that with anyone, but she would share it with him, and oh God she remembered everything in the fourth one. She wanted to laugh because she had no doubt that he’d want to act everything out in it.

  She would have laughed at the thought, but he moved so quickly, and he was inside her in a single hard thrust. She cried out, and he stilled, she watched him, and he was magnificent. One hand held the back of her neck, and the other squeezed her bottom, lifting her hips a little. The sensation was intense, and she couldn’t move.

  He went smoothly, not hurrying. He made little sounds of pleasure, and she smiled as he enjoyed himself in her, surrendering to it.

  Her back was arched slightly, and her body contorted at the intensity. He thrust deeper and harder.

  “You like that?”

  “Yes.” She barely got the word out.

  He looked up and frowned, pausing. He withdrew and shifted her across the bed, and re-entered her. The angle that they ended up in, as his head went up again, meant he saw them reflected in the long mirror in the corner of the room. He’d shifted her to the end of the mattress, her head fell over it and looked into the mirror too, only seeing them upside down.

  “Open your legs wider, no wider.” Muscles and tendons pulled on the inside of her thighs. He held her shoulders as he supported himself on his elbows, and gently made love to her.

  She let her head fall back, stretching her chest, and she hummed at the sensation of his chest rubbing her nipples. She watched him above her in the mirror, his face was pure bliss, that little open-mouthed smile of his, eyes nearly closed, and she liked seeing the rhythm of his movement above her. He opened his eyes, their eyes met, and he thrust harder into her again.

  That dark look of his, the grip he had on her shoulders, his weight upon her, made her contract again. He smiled darkly as he felt her come, bucking and squirming under him, her cries, when she pulled against the scarves, her flushed face, and seeing himself fuck her, all made him come with a ferocity he had never known.

  His body took over from his mind, and finished wildly, arching back, and pounded his last into her. She thought he would never stop, and she didn’t want him to; his face as he came was slightly taut, the set of his jaw, and his eyes closing against his will, was so beautiful to see. The feel of him taking her body in her little aftershocks satisfied a need so deeply buried, he had unlocked her secrets and made her see herself as if for the first time.

  “That’s it, I’m yours, and my body’s yours.”

  He shouted his cry with one hard last thrust and stilled on her. He pressed his weight down, as he reached and undid the scarves, her arms and legs went around him instantly.

  “Holy fuck. I never experienced anything like that.” He swallowed as he panted.

  “Me either.”

  “Really?”

  “Really. You are so good.”

  She went on wobbly legs to the bathroom when he finally withdrew, came back to him, and cuddled up.

  “It was intense. Did I hurt you?”

  “No, it was wonderful. Freaked out?”

  “No. That’s what I feel
weird about, it was fun.” He grinned.

  “I have something to show you.”

  She turned over, pulled out from under the bed a file box, and passed him a manuscript. “It comes out Monday.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I’ve never really shared it with anyone. It’s not private, but people get weird about it. I’ve never done this, shown anyone.” They snuggled down, and he just considered at the manuscript. When she was asleep, he put the lamp on, and read it. He couldn’t put it down.

  Sixteen. Return to form

  Ryan called in sick for work, not a thing he often did, in fact, in the two and a half years he worked there, he didn’t always take his annual leave. He hated it. What would he do? All alone, without Em. His Em.

  He read that book from front to back and finally fell asleep in the early hours. He couldn’t get up when his phone told him to, so, he called in, and Em let him sleep.

  His dreams had been vivid and muddled, so when he woke at nearly noon, he was disorientated with Cap nuzzling him on the bed.

  Em was working away at her desk, in a big slouchy jumper, and he loved the way it fell off one shoulder, teasingly inviting.

  He made a tea and dropped a kiss on her shoulder, and ran a finger along the neckline, she was so engrossed in her work that she hadn’t even noticed him.

  “Hey.”

  He grunted, when he was halfway through his tea, he finally spoke. “I read it.”

  “Ah, so that’s why. And?” she tried to sound unconcerned.

  “I liked it.”

  “Go on.”

  “It’s different, harsher if anything. Less carefree.”

  Em frowned and paused. “I suppose that’s fair actually, Matt, my agent, said the same thing. A bit darker.”

  “It’s good, though.”

  Em sat back and thought. ‘Susan’s Tangent’ had pushed the bounds of what she had written before.

  ‘Susan Strips’ and ‘Susan in Fur’ were vignettes of Em’s life, things she had witnessed, been told of, and The BB Ladies had loved it. The television show had been different. It was a complex set of storylines for a group of strippers in New York. It was good, so much better than what she wrote.