by Radclyffe
I knelt before her and leaned in to undo first the button and then the zipper of her pants with my teeth. When she was naked, I pushed her backward until her legs hit the bed. She toppled and I followed, crawling up her torso until our breasts were aligned. A quiet moan escaped me at the sensation. Too long, oh, god, it had been too long—I should never have allowed her to keep us apart. She squeezed my hips hard and I slid one thigh between her legs…and then we were rocking together, hands stroking and bodies melding until sweat slicked between us.
“Need you, need you,” she gasped, voice breaking as she clutched hard at my shoulders. I knew what she wanted—to get closer, ever closer. It would never be enough.
I kissed her deeply, drinking in her now wordless pleas. “I’m right here,” I said against her lips before finally moving down, down the length of her long body, tracing the curves of her breasts as I went. I kept one hand there, twisting and tugging even as her legs cradled my shoulders.
“I love you, Valentine,” I whispered, my heart pounding at the beauty of her, spread open before me. “I need you. I need us—like this, always.”
She started to reply, but I dipped my head, bringing my mouth to her: drinking her in. In this moment, I was the vampire—absorbing her passion into myself, gaining strength from the desire and love and surrender that she offered me freely. She was fire under my tongue, and I clutched at her thigh with my free hand, feeling the world finally slide back into place as she shouted my name in ecstasy.
I stayed with the fitful movements of her body until the tautness eased from her muscles. And then I moved back up, shifting onto my side to press against her while lightly running my fingers through her sweat-dampened hair. Her eyes were still closed, her breathing still shallow. She was exquisite. Love swelled up in me, a solar flare unfurling from the surface of the sun. The influx of emotion made my chest feel tight, and I took a deep, steadying breath.
When Val’s eyes finally opened, they were the lightest blue I’d ever seen. She had never looked so soft, so vulnerable, so mine. The corners of her mouth twitched, and an answering smile bloomed across my face. “Welcome home, baby,” I said, hearing the huskiness in my own voice.
She cradled me close, and I inhaled her scent—spicy and sweet. And then, in a sudden burst of effortless strength, she rolled me beneath her and bent her head to my breasts. The heat of her mouth tore a whimper from my throat, and I arched against her, instantly afire with need. She didn’t make me wait, flattening one hand between us, pressing me hard into the mattress as she filled me.
When I called out her name, her mouth was immediately on mine, her free hand cupping my face. She moved confidently, driving me higher with each claiming thrust until I was trembling at the edge of the precipice, poised for flight. Forcing my eyes open, I looked up into her eyes and saw equal parts love and thirst. Without hesitation, I offered my neck, praying that in this moment, she could see past her guilt and fear to my blazing need to nourish her. In all ways.
“Take me. Do. It. Val—”
She thrust deep inside and sheathed her teeth in my neck in one fluid motion. Twin sparks of pleasure and pain fused, igniting my release. My triumphant scream was short and sharp, and I clung to Valentine fiercely as my body shuddered in her arms. Her pull on my blood was only a subtle ache and I welcomed it, loving that only I could sustain her.
After a few moments, she pulled away. I shivered at the loss and leaned into her hand that was tenderly stroking the back of my head. Fatigue had stepped into the vacuum left by my insistent need for her, and I wanted nothing more now than to fall into sleep with her at my side. I cuddled close to her immediately, throwing one arm across her waist and twining our legs together.
“I love you,” Val breathed against my hair, rubbing circles against my back. “So much.”
“Mine,” I said, finding the strength to press one final kiss to the lightly freckled skin of her shoulder. Tonight represented only a small victory in what would be a long battle against Val’s inner demons, but I wasn’t going to let her pull away from me again. We could do anything, as long as we were together. That was the key. Together, we were stronger than any obstacle.
THE LETTING GO
Shannon Dargue
It seemed those days the only place Gwen and I could carry on a civil conversation was outside. Without fail, the moment four walls surrounded us, our meetings dissolved into juvenile screaming matches peppered with insults and even the occasional flying dish. So we walked, and although we covered many miles on our city’s sidewalks, we hadn’t budged an inch on our divorce settlement. More specifically, I refused to give her one. I knew as soon as I signed those papers my wife would take off like a bat out of hell.
I just needed more time.
“This is stupid, Jai. The papers are drawn up, and the legal fees are paid. All you have to do is sign.” She stopped and thrust a thick manila envelope and a pen bearing her lawyer’s insignia in my face. “You can’t force me to stay married to you.”
“No, I suppose I can’t.” I gently pushed the offensive items out of my way and continued walking. “I can, however, try to make my wife see the mistake she’s making.”
“The mistake I’m making?” Gwen was fuming. “I did not make a mistake—you did. You fucked someone else! You broke the rules, Jai. We’re done.”
The truth was, Gwen and I had been legally separated for exactly twelve months, and that was really all the Canadian government required to grant us a no-contest divorce. Well, that and my signature. I couldn’t believe it: seven years of my life (for three of which, we were legally wed) were about to disappear because of one indiscretion. That didn’t seem fair at all. Nope, Jaidan Elizabeth Marshall would not be signing any divorce papers. I was going to fix everything.
Unfortunately though, my strategy seemed to only further enrage my beautiful, estranged wife. Plus, as she informed me, it could get expensive.
I was grasping at straws, and running low on hope. As we trudged past European delicatessens, vintage record stores, and coffee shops, I turned to face her. Gently placing my hands on her shoulders, I stopped our forward movement and tried to lock eyes with her. Even through her bulky sweater I could tell Gwen had lost weight. Shoulders once square and proud were now frail and birdlike. She looked broken. Mustering every ounce of emotion in my being, I tried to make her understand. “I love you, Gwen.” Still, it didn’t seem like enough.
Gwen appeared to be deeply engrossed in the pizza-by-the-slice sign above my head. I was certain she was ignoring me until I realized she was struggling to hold back tears. She cleared her throat, attempting to regain her icy composure. Gwen’s quivering chin betrayed her.
“Baby, please,” I fervently whispered, gripping her tighter. “I know you still love me. It doesn’t have to go down like this. I fucked up, but I can make it better. I promise.”
Gwen finally met my stare, and as she did so, pent-up tears spilled over her cheeks and a shuddering sigh racked her tiny frame. “I wish I could believe you, Jai.” She began to cry harder.
I didn’t know what to do. Yes, I had been the one to make her cry, but for so many years I had held the privileged position of being the one to console her when she was hurting. I wiped her puffy, tear-streaked face with my hands. “We’ll be okay.” I searched her eyes, and when I thought I saw a glimmer of what used to be, I kissed my wife.
Gwen slapped me so hard, my head spun.
“No, Jai, you can’t kiss it and make it all better.” I watched her resolve solidify before my eyes. “I need closure. Allow me to have at least that much.”
Defeated, I relieved her of that manila envelope and bid her good night.
The following evening, I sat half-drunk in my shitty little apartment with the hateful documents in my lap. I had signed them. Gwen was right; this was entirely my own doing. As I shuffled to the kitchen to retrieve another beer, the phone rang. I waited for the machine to pick up. “It’s Jai, leave a message…”
I snatched up the receiver. “Gwen, hi.” I struggled to sound sober. “I signed the papers.”
“Thanks…” She inhaled audibly before continuing on the exhale. “I should never have hit you. That was wrong and I’m so sorry. I feel terrible.”
“Nah, it’s okay,” I lied. I wanted to get off the phone and back to my beer. Listening to her apologize was excruciating. “I deserved it. So when do you want them?”
Gwen left me hanging awkwardly as she mulled over my query.
“Gwen?”
“How about tonight?”
“What? Jesus! What do you need them for now? It’s nine thirty.” I was already tucking in my shirt and scanning the room for clean socks.
“Please, Jai.” I could barely hear her. “I’m done fighting.”
“Well, then you’ll have to come and get them. I can’t drive.”
In the twenty minutes I had before my soon-to-be ex-wife showed up, I managed to run the overflowing garbage out to the chute, clear the empties off the table, brush my teeth, and otherwise make myself presentable. The nervous energy created by Gwen’s pending arrival had completely burned off the insular haze I’d been cultivating all night.
When the buzzer sounded I froze. At that moment, I fully understood how close I was to being a single woman again. As soon as that damn envelope was back in Gwen’s hands, my marriage was as good as dead. Worse still was the cold dread that began to settle in my gut. I didn’t believe we could be in a confined space and not verbally rip each other apart—despite her assurances.
The buzzer sounded again, and this time she was really laying on it. “Okay, okay, stop so I can unlock it,” I muttered to the wailing rectangle on the wall. She definitely knew how to get my attention. I pressed the appropriate button when she finally let go and waited for her at the door.
I watched, envelope in hand, as Gwen exited the elevator and made her way down the shabby hallway. It was too easy to forget the circumstances surrounding her late-night visit as she approached. In faded jeans and the same ugly, old, grandpa-sweater from yesterday, she was stunning. I desperately wanted to kiss her again, slap or no slap.
“Can I come in?” Gwen asked as she sidled past me into the apartment, plunking a bottle of wine down on the kitchen counter.
I followed her and eyed the bottle with obvious disdain. “I’m sorry Gwen, but I’m really not up for celebrating.” This was over the top, even for her. I was already mentally preparing for the ensuing argument. “Here.” I held out the envelope. “By the way, I don’t have a corkscrew.”
“I brought one—and we aren’t celebrating.” She fished the chrome implement out of a sweater pocket. “You do have glasses, right?”
I opened the cupboard and revealed two Toronto Maple Leaf mugs. “Then what are we doing?” She still hadn’t taken the envelope.
Gwen dismissed the question. “Jesus Christ, Jai, this is the most pathetic apartment I’ve ever seen. Why didn’t you take more from the house?” She was moving to the living room.
It was my turn to ignore her. I didn’t take much because I didn’t think I’d be in the doghouse this long. I settled beside her on the couch and privately savored our proximity and the stillness in the room. Accepting the mug she handed me, I fully allowed myself to wallow in that bittersweet moment. It had been so long since we’d been able to just sit quietly together and longer still, since the last bottle of wine we shared. It felt like a first date. I was anxious and full of anticipation. The bubble burst, however, when the legal-sized envelope on the coffee table caught my eye. Right, she’s dumping me. I struggled to contain the flood of emotion that threatened to drown this peaceful moment.
“You keep playing with it,” she sheepishly eyed my fat lip. “Does it hurt?” Reaching out slowly, she tentatively brushed her fingers over my lips.
I shook my head, careful not to pull away from her hand. A familiar heat rose from within and my pulse quickened. Gripping my chin between thumb and forefinger, Gwen drew my face to hers and gently pressed a feathery kiss to the swollen lip. As I loosened my mouth to grant further access, a tumultuous storm of emotion suddenly ripped through me. I snatched my face away.
“What the hell are you doing?” I demanded, rising to my feet. “This isn’t fair.”
“Fair? Are you kidding, Jai?” She was clearly flabbergasted. “All things considered…”
“Fuck you, Gwen. I’m tired of this shit, and I’m tired of your games.” Hot, angry tears began to flow. “What were you after, one last celebratory fuck? Is that what the wine was for? You haven’t let me touch you in a year, and I’m supposed to just roll over now?” I tossed the envelope into her lap.
She shot upright and the yellow bundle slid to the floor. She jabbed her pointer finger at me and began her rebuttal, “You don’t—”
“Stop it!” I grabbed her outstretched hand. “You’ve done nothing but drag me over the coals for the last year. I know I hurt you, Gwen, and every day, I wish I could go back and change it all…” I released her now limp arm, “but I can’t, and you can’t keep punishing me. This war is over. You won, okay? We’re divorced.”
An extreme weariness washed over her delicate features, taking hold like a dark stain bleeds into pale wood. “So, now what?”
“Let’s just drink our wine and try to get along.” I went back to the couch and tapped my blue mug against hers. “Cheers,” I softly added.
Gwen was visibly confused. This was the first time since we separated that one of our fights simply ran out of steam. I patted the couch, and for the better part of a minute, I watched as she stood motionless, struggling to process the curveball I’d thrown at her.
Choosing a spot about two feet from me, Gwen finally sat. To my surprise, she pulled her feet up and lowered her head to rest in my lap. She closed her eyes and sighed in resignation. “What was her name?”
I began to stroke her hair. “Her name was Amy.” Gently tracing a route from her temple to behind her ear, and along her jaw, I felt Gwen’s tears seeping through my jeans, finally understanding the depths to which I had wounded her. I waited for her to continue. I knew from experience not to provide information Gwen wasn’t ready to process. This was the first time she had requested details.
“So, you met her at work?”
“Yeah.” As strange as our present situation was, I was relieved to finally have the opportunity to clear the air. I had at that point entirely given up on mending our marriage. The best I could hope for was honesty.
Gwen asked some more standard questions. Was I planning to leave her before she threw me out? No. Did I love Amy? No. How many times had I slept with her? Twice. She quietly accepted my answers.
“She meant nothing, Gwen.” The very instant those words spilled from my mouth, I regretted them. For those words implied that while I was with Amy, Gwen meant even less than nothing. I felt her stiffen. “Fuck—that came out wrong. I don’t know…I was just bored I guess. But the last time I was with her, I realized how stupid I had been. It wasn’t worth losing you.”
Gwen sat up. She wanted to see me answer this final question. “If I hadn’t seen the marks, would you have confessed?”
I met her eyes. “Probably not.”
She stood up and paced the room. The pretence of calm had been shattered. “You see, Jai? That’s why I can’t trust you. That’s why we’re done. How do I know you won’t pull that shit again?”
I joined her in the center of the room. “Listen to me.” I cradled her face in my trembling hands. “When I realized what I had done to you, when I realized how devastated you’d be, I knew I could never tell you.” I pressed my forehead to hers, and my hands fell to their natural resting place on her hips. “The guilt was eating me alive, and I could have confessed. It would have been easy to place that burden in your lap, but I couldn’t hurt you any more than I already had. I just wanted us to be okay again. Pl
ease believe me.” I searched her eyes for some indication that I had gotten through.
“It’s so hard, Jai.” Gwen burrowed into my rumpled shirt as great heaving sobs threatened to shake her apart. I held her tighter, not knowing what else to do, not knowing how to make her stop hurting. In spite of everything, I couldn’t help but notice how good she felt.
As she continued to cry into my neck, my fingers slipped under her sweater and found the hem of her T-shirt. After a flicker of uncertainty, I slipped under the thin cotton and delighted in the warmth and softness of Gwen’s skin. Gently tracing looping patterns I felt again, for the first time, the shape of her. The shape of my wife. Gwen fell silent.
We stood like this, just testing the water, for many long minutes, until a greater urgency took over. She lifted her face and brushed her lips across my ear. “Mmm…that’s nice,” she whispered just barely pressing her pelvis to mine. That and the slow movement of her hands on my back assured me that permission had been granted.
I turned my face to meet Gwen’s and kissed her. Softly at first, I kissed the corners of her mouth, and her cheeks, forehead, and eyelids. I kissed every inch of Gwen’s face before returning to her mouth for a deep soul kiss. As our tongues met, my roving hands explored the contours of her body and lingered on her breasts. Through the delicate fabric of her bra I could feel her nipples harden as I pinched and worked them between my fingers. Her breathing became ragged and she clutched fistfuls of my short hair. Her simple, primal gesture of need cracked my composure. I kissed her harder, devouring her mouth, seeking to fill the cold void created by her absence.
Steering me toward the hallway, Gwen broke away from my lips to ask if I had a bed. While she spoke, both the sweater and the T-shirt went over her head and onto the floor in one swift motion.
