Disarm

by June Gray

  The laughter died in my throat when I felt the wet heat of his tongue on my neck, as it slowly traced a line up to my jaw, to my lips. Then he kissed me and all of the nervous energy dissolved, to be replaced by something else, something so palpable it was almost tinting the air around us.

  I pulled away, holding his eye as I undressed, my confidence fueled by the dark look on his face. When I stood before him completely naked, he ran a finger from my collarbone down to my chest and around one breast before pinching the nipple. He looked at me with a question on his face.

  I grasped his wrist, brought his finger up to my lips and sucked it deep into my mouth as I nodded. “It’s the right time,” I said.

  “You sure?” Even as he asked, he was slipping his boxer shorts down his thighs.

  I nodded again as my eyes followed the trail of hair on his stomach down to his crotch, where his cock was standing at attention. Was it possible he had grown larger over the years?

  I bent down to take him in my mouth, but he stopped me. “No, I want you to have the first one,” he said and lifted me onto the laminate counter. He pulled my thighs apart, throwing my legs over his shoulders, and was dipping his head down when I grabbed his hair. “Stop,” I said. “I haven’t taken a shower since yesterday.”

  He actually laughed, the infuriating man. “Okay,” he said and reached behind me for the faucet. He came back with a handful of water and swiped it all over my mound and through my folds. He repeated the process, this time rubbing me a little slower, a little more deliberately. “Are you satisfied?” he asked, his thumb playing with my clit.

  “Almost,” I said and leaned back on my hands, opening myself up for him.

  He gripped my thighs and, with our eyes locked, slowly made his way down. He touched the tip of his tongue to my clit a few times, and just when I was about to cry out in frustration, he dove in and worked me in earnest. His tongue was at once rough and gentle, thick and thin, swirling and lapping. There was no finesse or tact in his movements; he was like an eager contestant at a pie-eating contest.

  I watched him, finding the visual of his tongue dipping into me even more of a turn-on. Then his mouth covered my mound. He looked up at me with a raised eyebrow as he continued the assault.

  The pressure built and built until I threw my head back and came with force, my insides quaking around his tongue as he continued to devour me.

  A moment later his tongue was gone, replaced by the head of his cock. He crouched over, planting his hands on both sides of my hips as he asked inches from my face, “You want me inside you?”

  I flicked my tongue out, tracing the cupid’s bow of his upper lip. “What do you think?” I reached around him and dug my fingers into his ass cheeks, pulling him toward me, inside me. To be filled by him after all this time was excruciatingly exquisite, my insides stretching slowly to accommodate all of him.

  I remembered his words on the tape, when he’d said being inside me was like coming home. At that moment, I knew exactly what he meant.

  He held still, lodged completely inside me, as his eyes locked on to mine. “Els,” he breathed when I squeezed his cock. “Do it again.” I don’t know how he held still, but he didn’t move a muscle when my vaginal walls squeezed him over and over. Only the expression of euphoric torture on his face revealed his inner struggle.

  Then he started to move a bit at a time until he was pulling almost all the way out and thrusting back in. His hands grabbed my hips as he continued the assault, our eyes locked the entire time.

  Just as I was building another charge, Henry pulled out. I gave him a disgruntled look when it became clear that he wasn’t coming right back.

  “Time for a shower.” His chest was heaving as he helped me down from the counter.

  “Why are we stopping?” I asked as we stepped into the bathtub. He twisted around and turned on the water. The spray hit his back, shielding me from the initial temperature change. “I want to make this last,” he said, running his fingers along my lower lip.

  I bit him. “You’re just trying to torture me.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Hey, you’ve already come once, remember?”

  I licked my lower lip. “I want more.” I spun us around so that the water was hitting my back and reached for the body wash. I poured some into my hand and rubbed it onto the wide expanse of his chest, soaping his dark hair. My hands ventured down, rubbing along the deep ridges of his six-pack.

  “Mmm.” He held my wrist and guided my hand lower. “You may need to concentrate on this area. I’m really, really dirty down here.”

  I held his thick cock in my hand and used the body wash to stroke him from the base to the tip and back down again. He groaned as the water washed away the soap and created more friction.

  “My turn,” he said and soaped me up, spending extra time on each of my breasts, massaging them tenderly. He lifted my leg so that my foot rested on the side of the tub and got on his knees to wash between my legs, running his fingers to the crease of my ass, the tip of his finger pausing at my anus, then sliding back to the front. When the soap had all washed off, he dipped his head and licked the inside of my thigh, from the knee all the way to my crotch, where he nipped at the trembling skin.

  Then he stood up, towering over me, and swiveled me around so that my back was to the cool wall. He held my wrists above my head with one hand while the other lifted my thigh. He bent at the knees and thrust his cock into me at the same time his tongue invaded my mouth, pinning me in place with his entire body. His shaft rubbed my clit as it slid in and out, creating the most delicious sensation, then he freed my wrists and hooked both hands under my knees, lifting me up and bearing all of my weight as he rocked into me.

  “You feel so fucking good,” he said between his teeth.

  My lips traveled all over his face, kissing the cleft on his chin and along the stubble of his square jaw. He was everything and everywhere and I loved him and cradled him like we had no tomorrow.

  When I felt his muscles tightening, I squeezed harder and sped up my own impending orgasm. He was breathing hard, continuing to plunge into me even as he started to come. “I love you so damn much, Elsie,” he rasped and I climaxed with his words, my insides trembling as intensely as the emotions roiling through me.

  I laid my cheek against the wet skin of his shoulder, overcome with love for the man. He was my beginning, my middle, and my inevitable end.

  Henry and I made love on my bed once more before we fell asleep out of sheer exhaustion. My body was worn out but it was my heart that bore the most fatigue. I was glad that sleep stole me away because I was sure I’d have stayed awake the entire night, trying to second-guess my decision to move.

  That night I dreamt of Jason, but unlike my previous dreams, in it he was still alive. He and I were kids, sitting on our porch in Monterey as we waited for the school bus. I couldn’t hear what we were talking about, all I saw were our mouths moving. Then we stopped and turned to watch an adult Henry approaching. He sat beside us on the steps and joined the conversation in his deep, gravelly voice.

  The bus came and stopped in front of us with a loud hiss, and both Jason and Henry climbed aboard. I remained sitting on that porch and watched as the bus doors swished shut and pulled away from my lonely step and me.

  In the morning I woke to soft kisses traveling across my shoulder. When I opened my eyes, I found Henry clamping his mouth around my breast and laving it with his tongue. “Morning,” he said against my skin with a sexy grin, his hair messy from sleep.

  “Morning.” I arched my back and stretched as he continued his adoration of my body, moving his attention to the other breast. He slipped his arms under my back, kissing along my neck as he pulled me up to sitting position.

  I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and ran my fingernails on the back of his head, moaning as he nipped his teeth along my jaw.

&n
bsp; We didn’t talk about the fact that he was leaving today to drive the truck back to Oklahoma. We didn’t talk about what the future held for us. We only held each other tight as he slipped into me and we made love for the last time.

  I began to move, rising and falling onto him, but it wasn’t nearly enough; I needed all of Henry. I bobbed faster, squeezed harder, my fingers digging into his shoulders as I pushed my leg muscles—and in turn, my heart—past the burning point.

  Henry’s hot palms caressed my back, then slid down to grip my ass. “Slow down, Els,” he whispered. “We’ve got time.”

  “No we don’t,” I said, continuing the rapid pace. All too soon, my legs gave out and I collapsed onto him in frustration. I buried my face in his neck and cried, unable to stave off the sadness any longer. My tears rolled off my cheek and onto his back as I clung to him, held him so close I imagined us melding together; maybe then neither of us could ever leave the other.

  His eyes were red when he pulled away. He held my neck in his hands and rubbed my cheeks with his thumbs as the grief creased his face. “This isn’t over,” he said, his nose flaring. “Nothing will keep me from you.” He kissed me tenderly as he started driving his hips up, carrying me when I was too paralyzed from grief to move.

  “I love you, Henry,” I said over and over against his mouth.

  I came first, my entire body trembling as I kissed him desperately. Then he too was climaxing, holding me down onto him like he never intended to let go.

  The time came to say good-bye too soon. We tried to put it off with an elaborate breakfast (which, of course, necessitated hunting through boxes while I went to the store for groceries), but after our second cups of coffee, we knew we couldn’t put it off any longer.

  It was raining when we walked out the front door and down the concrete pathway toward the parking lot. I was glued to him, tucked into his side as we huddled under my sad little umbrella, limp and battered from years of use.

  “Drive safe. Call me when you get home,” I said to fill the silence. “Thank you for helping me move.”

  He kissed the top of my head. “You’re welcome.”

  We reached the truck and stood there for a long moment, both unwilling to let go. Eventually, we pulled apart and faced each other.

  “So . . .” he said, anxiously fidgeting with the keys in his jeans pocket.

  I plucked up the courage to ask the question. I didn’t know what to expect but I needed to hear his answer anyway. “Henry, why haven’t you asked to move with me?”

  His lips formed a thin line as he gazed at me. “Because what I want might confuse what you want. You need to make decisions that are in your best interest.”

  “I appreciate that,” I said, not at all surprised to hear the logical, diplomatic answer. Still, I couldn’t help but shiver from the disappointment chilling my skin.

  “Before I go, I have to give you something,” he said, his hand still in his pocket.

  My heart skipped a beat. “What is it?”

  He held out his hand, his fingers closed around the object. “Something that belongs to you.” He unfurled his fingers to reveal not a diamond ring but a different kind of rock altogether, one that was in the shape of a wonky star.

  I felt like I’d been punched in the gut. I didn’t know until then just how much I wanted Henry to stay, how much I wanted to marry him and grow old together. “I don’t want it,” I said but he insisted, pressing it into my fingers until I finally held on.

  “This is just temporary, Els,” he said, bringing my fist up to his cheek. “When you’re ready, you let me know.”

  I nodded and reached up to kiss him, committing to memory every taste, every feeling, creating memories to hold close in the coming weeks. There was no fight left in that kiss, only grim acceptance.

  His jaw muscles were jumping when he pulled away, his blue eyes taking me in. He kissed my forehead one last time. “Don’t forget me,” Henry said and got into the truck.

  With a breaking heart, I watched him back out of the space and drive out of the parking lot and out of my life. The world closed in around me, suffocating me until I was gasping for breath.

  I faced the apartments and closed the umbrella, allowing the rain to pelt my face to keep my tears company. I looked down at that stupid rock in my hand, blaming it for everything that was wrong in my life. I formed a fist around it, wanting nothing more than to hurl it into the bushes, but I knew I would just run right over and drop to my knees to search for it. There are just some things in life that are not worth losing.

  I couldn’t hear anything beyond the rain and the pounding of my heart, so when I heard my name being called, I thought I had just dreamed it up.

  Then I heard it again. “Elsie!”

  I spun around in time to see Henry jump out of the truck and run toward me. He nearly bowled me over when we collided, but he caught me, steadied me.

  “I couldn’t do it,” he cried, grasping my head and kissing me desperately. “I turned that corner and couldn’t make myself leave. I would have to be the biggest moron on the planet to leave you again.

  “I love you, Elsie. I want you to be happy and live your dream, but I can’t pretend that I don’t want to be by your side throughout all of that. I want to be part of your life always,” he said, raining kisses on my face and stopping at my forehead.

  I reveled in the warmth of his lips and in the power of second chances. “I want that too. I want you here with me.”

  “Do you?” he asked. “Are you sure?”

  “More than anything,” I said with a happy sob.

  He reached into his pocket again. “I don’t want to live another day without you, Els,” he said, grasping my left hand. “I’ve made some huge mistakes but I know, I know, that if I drive away right now without asking you this question, I will regret it for the rest of my life.”

  He got down on his knee, on the wet ground and all, the ring poised at the end of my finger. “I know I broke your trust in me, but if you let me, I will spend the rest of my life trying to make it up to you. Just . . . marry me?”

  I fell to my knees in front of him and slipped that ring all the way down my finger. “Okay,” I said through a smile that was breaking my face wide open. “I’ll marry you, Henry.”

  He let out a relieved laugh and pulled me to him, lifting me off my feet as he stood up. I wrapped my arms around his neck and simply gazed at him as he carried me down the stone pathway.

  My vision of Henry may have been blurry from the tears and the rain, but what I felt for him was crystal clear. The years apart—the hurt and the anger—all of that washed away until only the two of us remained.

  6

  THE HAPPY EVER AFTER

  “You ready?” Henry asked, coming around behind me and resting his chin on my head.

  “Hold on, one more thing,” I said, finishing with the image touchup and saving the JPEG. As I emailed the file to the junior designer on my team, I glanced down at my ring again, at the princess-cut diamond on a simple platinum band that encircled my finger. “Tell me again about this ring,” I said, a little embarrassed to say that four months had passed and I was still mesmerized by it and what it symbolized.

  “You’ve already heard that story.”

  “I’d like to hear it again,” I said, leaning back in the computer chair to look up at my fiancé.

  He gave an impatient sigh but told the story anyway. “After you issued the three-date challenge, I went to BC Clark the next day and bought it. The woman who helped me asked about you so she could help me find the right ring.”

  “And what did you tell her about me?”

  He spun the office chair around and bent down, his hands on the armrests as he faced me. “That you’re a brat,” he said, pinching my nose. “And that you wear simple and classic jewelry.”

  “What else?” I urge
d with a smile. I’d heard the story several times before, but didn’t think I’d ever tire of hearing it.

  “I told her about the challenge, that you’d given me something nearly impossible to accomplish. She told me that this ring, this expensive bauble, was sure to make you forgive me and I shook my head and told her that I wasn’t trying to buy your forgiveness or your love. I was getting the ring as an alternative to that other rock.”

  He looked into my eyes and gave a rueful smile. “The day I was getting ready to leave you in Denver, I had both of those in my pockets and I kept touching them, wondering which one to give you. I wanted to give you the ring but I thought giving you the rock was the right thing to do,” he said. “Good thing I don’t always do the right thing.”

  I touched my lips to his and kissed him tenderly. Four months had passed since that rain-soaked proposal, four months since Henry gave me the ring and delayed going home by a day. He had stayed in Oklahoma for a few more weeks to give me some space to think clearly, to get situated with work and my new life. As it turned out, taking that job was one of the best decisions of my career. I was able to live in both design worlds as an art director and a senior designer. Some days I could even work from home.

  Henry got his affairs in order back in Oklahoma before moving to Colorado for good. He had given up the deposit on the house he was renting, sold most of his stuff, and had cancelled his application to the Oklahoma PD, starting the entire process over in Denver.

  For now, we lived in my apartment and it was almost like old times, except I no longer had a room to escape to whenever things got too stifling. Luckily, I’d only signed a six-month lease so we would be able to find a larger place fairly soon.

  Have I completely forgiven Henry? I like to think so, but some of that anxiety lingers on, the worry that he might up and leave at any time still niggling at me at random times. But true to his word, he was here day by day, building a life with me.

  “You ready?” Henry asked, standing beside our luggage at the front door.