The Art of Moving On (Siren Publishing Classic)

by Sarah Raymond

  After that, they made their way around the city, taking in the lavish beauty of the aged buildings. Casey even showed Sammie the old cemeteries throughout the city. She always admired how old and well preserved the tombstones were. To Casey, they not only marked the grave of a person long departed, but also held the secrets of hundreds of years. What did the dead know? What had they heard as the city grew around them, the world ever-changing? Standing in the cemetery, Casey could almost hear the whispers from below. Though it was morbid, she felt at home standing amongst the dead. She could stay there forever. She felt connected to them as they lay still, the world forever developing around them. In that moment, she realized that she had been nothing but a bag of bones, herself. Time for a change.

  When Casey had given Sammie a tour of her new home, the girls decided to end the afternoon with a shopping spree. Sometimes the best medicine was spending ungodly amounts of money on crap you really do not need. Two hours later, Sammie’s stomach groaned so loudly that Casey had to laugh out loud. She felt the same way, and what better way to end an amazing day with your girlfriend than with a nice dinner? They grabbed the T-line and headed toward the apartment to freshen up.

  Once inside the apartment, Casey realized that they had neglected one issue that needed resolving, and she felt it best be done before dinner. “Sammie,” she said quietly as they re-applied makeup in the bathroom. Sammie turned to her, and by the look in her eyes, Casey could tell that she was aware of what she was about to say. She continued, “We need to get you a pregnancy test. You have to know for sure. Let’s do it before dinner so we can either cry or celebrate, depending on the outcome and how you feel about it.”

  Sammie shook her head. “Casey, let’s have one more night of just us. We will go out and eat, have some wine, and maybe dance. Let’s pretend that we are who we used to be. We were young once, and we were fun and full of life. That changed after you found Jace. From the minute you guys got together, you seemed older, and I understand. That’s what you are supposed to do when you start a family. But then the accident happened and you disappeared. And now, if I am pregnant, I will start to change in a way you already have. We need this night. One more night where we are young and carefree. ” Casey understood where Sammie was coming from. “Can’t we just deal with life tomorrow?”

  Casey thought the idea sounded amazing. Tomorrow they would stare life in the face and scream I am not afraid! They would shed their past selves and prepare for the future. They would handle their issues and get through them together. Tomorrow was all about change, but tonight they would dance.

  Later that night, at a time unknown, two best friends held hands and skipped through the streets of Boston. Their voices echoed as they sang tunes from their childhood. The streets were lined with buildings that seemed to sway to the rhythm of their voices, and smile down upon their cheerful spirits. The night had been a good one, and they had both so desperately needed an evening free of worry or pain.

  In the middle of a darkened street, Casey stopped and stared at her best friend. She seemed to glow in the moonlight, her entire body throwing off radiant vibes. There was no question that she was pregnant. Casey recognized that glow, but for once it did not sadden her to think of children. She would help Sammie raise her child, and be there for her every step of the way.

  “Why are you looking at me like that?” Sammie asked, her eyes foggy from the wine that they had devoured throughout the evening.

  “I am just so happy that you are here, Sam. Since you have come, things have just been going right, you know? It’s like you brought the light back into my life. Things are just easier with you here”

  “Aw, thank you. I love you so much, and I needed you as much as you needed me I think,” Sammie said. “You always were my rock.”

  “We were each other’s rock,” Casey responded, uncaring that the conversation was becoming mushy. “I promise never to disappear again. That wasn’t fair.”

  “No, it wasn’t. But who is to say what I would have done if the situation was reversed? People deal differently,” Sammie said.

  “Yeah, or don’t deal at all,” Casey said.

  When they got to the apartment, Casey paused before going upstairs. How was it possible that her best friend had come to be here on the same night that she began a relationship with a man who was almost too good to be true? It was almost as if the universe was trying to fill the void from the family she had lost.

  “Oh my God!” she exclaimed. “Sammie, go on upstairs. There is something that I have to take care of.”

  Sammie looked very confused but didn’t ask any questions. She bade Casey goodbye and drunkenly made her way up the staircase.

  Chapter 9

  Casey was sprinting down the street. Luckily she had worn flats, or she might have broken an ankle. She had realized in that moment on the street with Sammie that things were meant to happen this way. She had lost an ultimate love in Jace and her child, and had spent the last year hanging on to the memory of them. She had not wanted to even attempt to let anyone in to help heal the gaping wound that their deaths had left within her, so fate stepped in. God, or Buddha, or Allah, or whoever was still concerned with her well-being, had sent a new man, a best friend, and a child into her life all at once. She could not ignore the feeling within her.

  After leaving Sammie at the apartment, she had immediately called Conor and asked to see him. Her frantic tone probably worried him, but she could not shake the need for him. She could no longer quiet the hunger that she felt when she thought of his emerald eyes, and as she raced toward the address which he had given her to his home, she felt absolutely no anxiety in knowing that she was about to let a new man nestle inside of her for the first time in years.

  As she turned the corner onto a street lined with extravagant homes that might be featured in magazines, she spotted him. Conor was sitting on the stoop of an immaculate brownstone at the end of the block. He stared at his hands, wringing them nervously. As if he sensed her there, he looked down the street and stood as their eyes met. He wore a pair of jeans and a black button-down shirt. His feet were bare. She imagined him sitting in a grand parlor, reclining in a chair the color of cocoa. She envisioned a small crystal glass in his hands, filled with dark Irish whiskey. Seeing him like that in her mind sent a jolt through her body, and she ran to him. Before he could speak, she threw herself against him, kissing him thoroughly. Her tongue pressed against him, tasting him in long, lustful strides. There was no longer need for conversation. His erection proved that he knew what she had come for.

  Conor took her into his arms and carried her up the stoop, never unlocking their lips. Though she had often wondered what his home would look like, and was even more curious now that she had seen it from the outside, she was unable to open her eyes. His powerful arms carried her with ease, and their movements together were almost graceful. The way in which their lips connected lulled her into a dream-like state. He carried her into what she presumed was his bedroom and laid her gently on the bed. For a brief moment, their lips parted as he began to unbutton his shirt. She watched hungrily, her mouth watering to taste his skin upon her lips. She would kiss him everywhere. When he had shed his shirt, their lips reconnected as he put his hands on her thighs and slowly hiked her dress. She shivered as his hands traveled the length of her body. Palms on her flesh had never felt so good. As he gently raked his fingertips from her thighs to her arms, her breath became heavy, her skin sensitive to his touch. She grew exceedingly wet, her folds pulsating, yearning for what he offered.

  Casey sat on the bed in front of him, her parts hidden only by black lace panties and bra. She quivered as Conor stood before her at the end of the bed. He unbuckled his belt and unzipped his pants. Without the restraint, his cock sprang from his pants and Casey was taken aback at the sheer magnificence of it. She thought it might be the largest expanse of flesh that she had ever seen. She stared in awe at his erection for long moments, admiring its features with a desire
that walked the line between pleasure and pain. Her eyes traveled his body, and she noticed that his chest was heaving. He was just as hungry to taste her flesh. Their eyes met, and the lust that she noted there made her wild.

  In an instant, she stood and had him laid before her on the bed. She needed to feel him in her mouth, wanted to make him moan. She yearned to hear her name echoing throughout his home. She wanted to taste his salty seed dripping down her throat. On her knees before him, her heart raced and she momentarily worried that she might have forgotten how to pleasure a man. The thought disappeared as she looked him in the face, and he nodded slightly. Before her lips even met his length, a small bead had escaped the throbbing tip. Confidence washed over her, and she took him into her mouth with a moan. His body arched, and breathy exhales escaped his lips. He moved his hips against her mouth slightly, sending her head spinning. She had never imagined in her wildest dreams that oral sex on someone else could be so exhilarating.

  She felt empowered, kneeling between his legs. She felt whole. She was a woman, and she was pleasuring a god. She vowed not to stop until he screamed for her to release him. Continuing to swallow his length, she placed her hands on his smooth bollocks, and he cried out for her. Hearing her name escape his lips at the height of his pleasure gave her unimaginable joy. His breathing became labored, and she could tell by the movements of his body that he was about to climax. Casey pushed him deeper into her throat, urgently needing him to release for her. When she did, he raggedly said her named once again, and placed his hands on the back of her head. A low growl escaped his chest as he nourished her with what she had milked from him. Simultaneously, the extreme intensity of the act sent her over the edge. She came explosively as she swallowed him, her moaning stifled by his throbbing sex.

  When she finally released him, she took a moment to catch her breath before sliding her moist body to lie beside him. The first words out of his mouth since the phone call earlier were perfect.

  “Ya are gonna make me fall in love with ya, pleasurin’ me like that, Casey,” he said through the breaths escaping his heaving chest. She smiled. He hadn’t even touched her, and she had felt more pleasure than she had ever felt in her life. “Did you go off then, too?” Her eyebrows rose, and she nodded, unable to speak. “Just from pleasurin’ me?” he asked her with a surprised tone of voice. She nodded again. His green eyes bore into her, searching for an untruth in her confession. When he could find none, he said, “Well I will just have to give ya seconds then, love.”

  He pulled her close to him and unburdened her of the remainder of her clothes. She lay before him, naked on the bed, and for once, did not feel ashamed or embarrassed of her once-full figure. He inspected every inch of her body, and finally said, “I was not wrong when I told ya that ya are the most beautiful creature I had ever seen. Seein’ ya all exposed here now just reassures me.”

  He penetrated her body with those emerald eyes, and she became aroused once more. He was teasing her, and it was working. She longed for him to enter her, pulsating and pumping her body, friction leading to explosion. She never wanted this night to end.

  “Touch yourself,” he commanded. She obeyed without hesitance. Her legs fell open, and when her fingers met her slick skin, he groaned with approval. She began to rub herself, growing wetter with every circle of her fingers. When she slid a finger inside, he began to stroke his mighty shaft. He licked his lips and, unable to withstand his urge to taste her, he lowered himself between her legs. She felt his hot breath against her as he paused to look into her eyes. He smiled as his tongue delved into her flesh. She gasped as he softly kissed her, taking long laps of her clitoris. His technique was unlike any she had felt before. Her climax rose fast and before she knew it, Casey had Conor’s hair wrapped around her fingers, bucking wildly into his mouth. He, groaning the entire time, lapped at her as if he had never tasted anything so appetizing. When she had finished and was completely sated, Conor made his way up her body, sporadically laying his lips on her stomach and breasts.

  When he reached her face, their lips met once more, straining against one another. She could feel his massive erection pushing against her as he spread her thighs and made sure she was ready to take him. Her eyes rolled back in her head as he slipped his fingers inside of her, his gentle touch coaxing the moisture within. When he removed his fingers, he pulled back to watch her face as he entered. The moment his head breached her folds, they both cried out. He made slow work of burying his large shaft deep inside, obviously worried that he might hurt her. Casey disregarded the tinge of pain that came with this immense pleasure. She had been celibate for so long, she was surprised that Conor could completely fit inside her. Once he had worked his way in and made sure Casey was comfortable, he began pumping his shaft into her slowly at first, and then more swiftly.

  “Oh, God! Oh, Conor!” Casey screamed as his hips rolled against hers. Their bodies moved in perfect rhythm, hers taking him deeper and deeper with each mind-altering thrust.

  As her natural moisture increased, Connor rolled her over to lie behind her. He dove into her and began to rub tiny circles on her clitoris once more. He held her tight with his other hand, slightly pinching her nipples as he kissed her neck. Casey felt her body readying for climax once more, and she screamed, “Harder. Fuck me harder!”

  He obeyed, and she came hard on his cock. For a moment, the surge robbed her of her sight. She saw only stars. She barely noticed when he hit his peak, as she was still riding out the waves of her own climax.

  “Ah yes, love! Oh sweet Jesus!” he roared. She felt him filling her, their moisture mingling, their passion overtaking them. She heard him growl that beastly growl once more before they both fell back, exhausted. From that moment on, Casey knew sex would never be the same for her. She was utterly ruined.

  Chapter 10

  Some time later, Casey awoke in Conor’s bed. During their recovery from the most unimaginable passion, Conor had pulled her close and blanketed her in his arms. She did not put up a fight, as his touch put her at complete ease. She had lain awake in his arms listening to the sounds of his slumber. When her breath synced with his, she had drifted off. She had slept sound, no nightmares able to penetrate the tranquility.

  She had awoken to the chiming of a grandfather clock somewhere in the house. She looked around the room, taking in its grandeur. The space was large and open, but simple. From what she could tell, he had been a bachelor for some time. The décor of the space was modern, mostly gray and black in color. Though it was dark, his room was devoid of gloom. It held a sort of mystery, which was well suited to Conor.

  After taking a quick glance at her sleeping lover, she decided to explore the rest of his massive home. She hadn’t bothered to look around before, and curiosity was nagging at her. After she made sure that he was still asleep, Casey wrapped a sheet around her body and quietly snuck out of the room. She realized that she was at the top of a staircase. Did we come up a staircase? She could not remember, her lust for him had been too great. They could have been in an alleyway, and Casey would not have noticed.

  She descended the staircase, drawn by the glowing light from a fire in a room unseen. Along the wall of the stairs hung several paintings. She stopped to observe each one, running her fingers along the canvases. Most were depictions of people from another time, the backgrounds laced with the emerald green of Conor’s eyes. Casey thought that these must be his ancestors. How nice to be from such a lineage, she thought. Casey’s family was rather small, which is something she had always dreamed of changing one day. She had dreamed of having at least four children, though that dream had died for her in an instant.

  When she had thoroughly inspected each of the paintings, she continued her descent, drawn by the enticing glow of the fire. She dared not stray too far so as not to seem nosy, but entered the glowing room. She gasped! The walls were lined with thousands of books, their bindings both new and worn. There were so many! As a writer, Casey might as well have been in he
aven. She made her way around the shelves, inspecting as many books as she could. She felt the need to touch each binding, and even removed certain tattered books for further inspection. Her fingers stopped on one in particular and she removed it. She held it gently in her hands, the work so old that the cover was illegible. She brought it to her nose and inhaled deeply. She had always enjoyed the scent of old books. Each one had a history, and she often got lost thinking of all the places it had traveled. Who all had held it? Enjoyed it? Was the subtle fragrance of rosemary the perfume from a saddened widow? Had it lived a lifetime in the library of a cigar-smoking man with a large mustache? Her mind could race forever.

  She scanned the room for a place to sit and read a page or two. She spotted a chair in front of the fire, the same color of cocoa that she had imagined earlier that night. Beside it, on a small table, was a half-empty glass of whiskey. Strange.

  She made her way to the chair, settled in, and began to explore the book. It turned out to be a book of poetry by Emily Dickinson published in 1890. She flipped through the pages to find her favorite poem, entitled “Because I Could Not Stop For Death,” and read it once again. It had been her favorite for as long as she could remember. She was fascinated by the sheer genius of the poet, and the intriguing way in which she viewed death. It was almost as if Dickinson had accepted and even welcomed the inevitable end, which was something that Casey could never fathom. She had witnessed death, and it was not a welcome guest. As she read the poem, she wondered if Jace and her son had accepted their fate in the end? Had Jace’s life flashed before his eyes as his soul escaped his body? Did he die with a vision of her imprinted in his brain as the life left his eyes? Was he watching her now, betrayed by the luscious sex she had just had with another man?