Last Light

by M. Pierce

  I sent the reply and logged out of the forum.

  I couldn’t write worth a damn that morning, couldn’t focus on anything but Hannah and her upcoming visit. So I made a list.

  SEX ALL WEEKEND

  Hannah, in the flesh (and nothing else)

  Candles/atmosphere/flowers?

  Nice meal (how?)

  Lube … or something

  Nonsexual gifts (books?)

  Clean the cabin

  Do your fucking laundry

  Xmas tree/lights etc.

  I prowled through the cabin collecting laundry and rereading my list. Hannah, Hannah, Hannah. Finally. Friday would be Valentine’s Day. It would be our Christmas. I would make it romantic and special—unforgettable—and maybe, just maybe, she would stay with me.

  I checked the food situation in the cellar. I had a lot of food—canned food, frozen food, untouched bags of pasta and rice—but nothing that would cohere into a “nice meal.”

  My thoughts strayed helplessly back to Hannah.

  God, I wanted her sprawled by the fire on a pile of shearling blankets. Naked. The firelight playing on her curves …

  Ten minutes later, I was sitting on the couch with a heap of laundry at my feet and the hard-on of the century. I had to laugh.

  If this wasn’t the epitome of my life without Hannah, then nothing was.

  *

  “Do you want me to wrap these, hon?” said the cashier. She lifted one of the twenty votive candleholders on the belt. “I don’t have paper, but I can wrap bags around them.”

  Twenty scented candles followed the holders.

  Also: a new TracFone, two boxes of chocolates, two fresh flower arrangements, three books, warming lube, massage oil, wrapping paper and ribbon, two cards, a plush rabbit holding a heart, a bottle of white wine, and two bags of frozen shrimp and penne dinner. “Ready in 10 minutes,” the bag claimed. “Just heat and serve!”

  Hell, I could heat and serve.

  “Yeah, please,” I said, “if it’s not too much trouble. I have a long way to go with them.”

  I slid off my hat and ruffled my black hair. I watched the cashier from behind my shades. I expected her to do a double take, to hesitate and then say I looked familiar, but she only nodded and began swathing the glass with plastic bags.

  “Is it too much?” I gestured to my purchases. “I have a date. For Valentine’s.”

  “Oh, it’s never too much.” The cashier smiled so hard that the apples of her cheeks reddened. “Some lucky girl.”

  “Mm.”

  I plucked the plush rabbit off the belt and studied it. Lucky girl. Yeah, right. Merry super-belated Christmas and ghetto Valentine’s, Hannah. Here’s a thirty-dollar bottle of wine and a bunch of wax that doubles as chocolate. Run away with me?

  With a sigh, I handed the stuffed animal to the cashier.

  “Cute!” She passed it over the scanner.

  I pulled out my cash and started counting off twenties. “Yeah, I think she’ll like it,” I said, and I did. Hannah would like any gesture from me.

  I pocketed my change and carried my bags out to a bench. There, I arranged the candleholders and other items in my pack. The wrapping paper and bouquets poked out the top.

  It was Thursday morning. The flowers would easily survive until tomorrow. I couldn’t find Christmas lights in the store, but fuck it. This was good enough. More than good enough.

  As I hiked back to the cabin, I laughed and remembered little things about Hannah. I pictured her every which way. My chronic anger and harsh moods stood far off when Hannah filled my thoughts, and no drug could do that for me, and no other human. Just Hannah.

  Chapter 17

  HANNAH

  The garter slip fit me like a sleeve. It hugged everything and covered nothing. My nipples showed plainly through the sheer cups. The ruffled hem flared around my hips.

  I spun before the standing mirror.

  I thought of Matt’s gaze and curled my toes.

  I don’t know when I decided to drive up to the cabin in nothing but lingerie and a coat, but the idea excited me. Maybe I saw it in a movie: a sexy woman shrugging off her coat, nothing beneath but skin and lace.

  Besides, knowing Matt, I’d be lucky if he didn’t fuck me against the car. So why not give him a treat on our way to bliss? I rolled up my black thigh-highs and clipped on the garter straps. I grinned as I slid my feet into pumps. There.

  I pulled on my coat, collected my purse, and hoisted Laurence’s portable cage.

  He thumped his displeasure.

  “Yeah, yeah,” I said. “Tell it to someone else. I could be leaving you with Jamie again.”

  I locked the condo and headed out to my car.

  Cold air whooshed under my coat. Oof, what a draft …

  I giggled as I arranged Laurence’s cage on the backseat and got behind the wheel. I was being quite bad. Matt would love it.

  *

  Though I’d left work early, I hit Friday night traffic on I-25. I sighed as the string of cars slowed, smiled when it picked up, and groaned when it came to a standstill.

  What should have been a one-and-a-half-hour drive stretched into two.

  The sky darkened as I cruised west toward the mountains. Shivers raced through me.

  I sipped a Red Bull and plugged in my iPhone to play music.

  With a jolt, I remembered Seth.

  DJ, will ya?

  Matt’s memorial felt a lifetime away, but the memory of Seth was so fresh that he might have been in the car with me.

  I get it, Hannah. “Love is as strong as death,” right?

  I highly doubted Seth would “get it” if he knew the truth. Death wasn’t in the picture here, just deception.

  My mind trailed over the Goldengrove gig, and I frowned when I remembered I’d deleted all their songs. Yeesh, overreact much? I started a song by Broken Bells.

  It was, I realized, very possible that I overreacted to all of it—Shapiro’s interrogation, the looks the other memorial guests gave me, even Seth’s request for a kiss.

  I was hypersensitive, crazy with guilt. Maybe there was no harm in any of it …

  I turned onto the narrow road leading out to the cabin. My palms began to sweat. God, why was I nervous? I wiped my hands on the seat.

  The road steepened and my Civic labored over the snow. My wheels spun. The car pitched forward and slid back.

  I found the driveway and veered onto it. Matt had shoveled the dirt drive as well as he could. I slowed the car as I neared the cabin. My headlights swung across the snow.

  Matt.

  He jogged through a drift. Jesus, he was barefoot! And his hair was … black? But it was Matt. My Matt. My night owl.

  As the last light of day peeled off the snow, he closed the distance between us. I lunged out of the car. He caught me in a hug and crushed my body to his.

  “Hannah. Goddamn.” He lifted me off my feet. His hands were in my hair, against my neck, on my back and arms. He touched me all over as if to make sure I was real. And maybe I wasn’t. This felt like the best dream.

  “Matt. Baby. Hi. Hey…” I stroked his face. I scrubbed away the beginnings of tears from my eyes. “Your hair.” I ruffled it.

  “Black,” he said, his voice muffled as he kissed my neck.

  I couldn’t stop laughing. “Yes, black.”

  Matt came up for air long enough to look me in the eye. “You like it?”

  “I love it. You look great. Beautiful. My beautiful night owl.” I fit my hand to the contour of his cheek. His eyes shone with happiness … and something a little darker.

  He resumed kissing my neck, sucking hungrily on my bare throat. I moaned into the night. I was so right, I thought—I was going to get fucked against my car. But Matt was barefoot. And Laurence was in the car. And there was food, and—

  “Your skin tastes so fucking good,” Matt whispered. He dragged his teeth over my jaw. The way his tongue touched my neck … the way he pulled my body against his, for
cing me to straddle his thigh … I groaned.

  Through my coat, through Matt’s thin lounge pants, I felt his erection trapped between us. Oh, Lord.

  “B-bunny … in the car,” I panted.

  “Hm? You want it in the car?” Matt wedged me against the door. It felt like a sheet of ice. “How about against the car? Right here.”

  “No, Laurence. Laurence. He’s in the car.”

  Laughter overtook me, fueled by happiness and relief. Matt started to laugh, too. We were helpless with it, sagging against one another and the car.

  And God, if it wasn’t heaven to see Matt laugh like that.

  “Well, I’m not horny or anything.” He rubbed his face. “Goddamn, Hannah. I missed you so much.” He kissed my mouth. He slowed it down, rocking against me and teasing my tongue with his. I moaned and clung to him.

  “Mm, birders … if you start moaning like that. Shhh.” He silenced me with a finger and peered into the car. “You really brought him. Crazy girl.”

  “He missed you.” I grinned. I couldn’t take my eyes off Matt. With his black hair, he looked like a rascally Nate. Maybe he’d lost a pound or two, but I’d expected worse—an emaciated Matt with a limp and a chunk missing from his leg.

  My relief swerved toward disappointment. Matt looked just fine. Gorgeous, strong, passionate—the same old Matt. He wasn’t wasting away without me. I guess I wasn’t wasting away without him, either. At least, not on the outside.

  “What is it?” Matt caught me staring. He smiled uncertainly.

  “Nothing.” I smiled back at him. He had the back door open and was working Laurence’s cage off the seat.

  “Nothing, huh?” He returned to me. He slid a hand under my coat and got a handful of my bare ass. I squeaked. His eyes widened. “What … are you wearing?” Matt tried to get a look.

  I tugged down my coat. “Inside!”

  With a laugh, I broke away and headed toward the cabin. The food would keep in the car. The night was like an icebox.

  Matt followed with the rabbit cage.

  “Ah … wait!” he called.

  I giggled and flew into the cabin. Hot air enveloped me. It smelled of cinnamon and pine and … something burnt. I wrinkled my nose. My eyes adjusted to the firelight. Votive candles glowed in a misshapen heart formation on the dinner table.

  On the far side of the room, a huge spruce slumped against the corner. From it emanated the powerful scent of pine. A bit of ribbon drooped around the tree’s middle.

  Either I felt hysterical or this was seriously funny, because I found myself hugging my belly and fighting new waves of laughter.

  Matt backed into the cabin. He hefted Laurence’s cage and kicked snow from his pants. “Let me explain.” He slid the cage onto the coffee table. He was half laughing, half crooning to the terrified rabbit. “Hey, little guy. It’s okay. Too hot for you? You’re too fat, is what it is.”

  Matt adjusted the thermostat, then pulled me back into the circle of his arms.

  I smiled up at him. Dear God, I’d missed this handsome face, this strong grip.

  “Merry Christmas, baby,” he said, the edges of laughter in his voice, “and happy Valentine’s Day. I made a snack.” He hooked a thumb toward the table. I glanced over his shoulder. It was Valentine’s Day, wasn’t it? I had forgotten.

  In the candlelight, I saw two paper plates, a bag of Wonder Bread, a jar of peanut butter, and one spoon. I pressed my lips into a line to keep from laughing.

  “Oh, sweetie. Wow. And … a tree.” My mouth twitched. “Did something burn?”

  I was still acutely aware of Matt’s arousal pressed against me. His fingers gathered up my coat as we spoke. I trembled against him.

  “I was making pasta. I threw it out. It came out all … weird. Hannah, what—” Matt’s fingertips trailed over the tops of my thigh-highs. Again, confusion flashed through his eyes. He began to undo my coat, freeing one button after another and finally throwing it open. I swayed on my heels. Fuck …

  Matt’s expression grew serious, and my own giggly mood floated into oblivion. Already, my chest rose and fell with heavy breaths. My nipples stood stiff against the mesh cups of my slip. I lowered my eyes.

  “Do you … like it?” I whispered.

  How did this work? Matt’s desire seemed to suck the sound out of the room, and the breath out of my body. And he was only staring. I peeked at him through my lashes.

  The look I found on his face is with me forever. It was need mingled with satisfaction. A hunger in his eyes, a thin smile on his lips.

  Matt wanted me, and Matt already had me. I was his.

  He pushed the coat from my shoulders and it flopped to the floor. I dropped my purse. Matt shucked off his T-shirt and I stared at his torso.

  I came alive then, flattening my palms to his chest. His heart knocked under my hand.

  “Yeah,” Matt said. He nudged me toward the wall. I let him move me; I yielded easily and started to pant. Heat gathered between my legs. “Yeah … I like it, Hannah. I like this…”

  He pinched my nipple through the polka-dot fabric. I moaned. My hands flew to the drawstrings on his pants. He grinned down at me as I fumbled with the knot.

  “I like this,” he whispered, shifting out of my reach and slipping a hand between my legs. My thong was soaked. Matt pulled it down. He unclipped my garters and let my panties slide down my thighs.

  “This.” He squeezed my ass with both hands. I squirmed.

  “Please.” I reached for his pants again. It was humiliating, being the only one exposed, and I wanted … I wanted to see Matt’s need. I wanted him naked.

  Again, Matt moved his hips out of reach. He chuckled and pressed my back into the wall. I stamped my foot.

  “So precious, Hannah. So fucking sexy. Touch your breasts … your nipples.” Matt trained his green eyes on my chest. “Do it, and I’ll take off my pants.”

  I clenched my teeth and closed my eyes, lifting my hands to my breasts. Matt always embarrassed me during sex. And some part of me … loved it.

  “Eyes open, look at me.” His voice tickled my ear.

  I forced myself to meet Matt’s gaze as I squeezed my breasts. He tilted his head. The tent in his lounge pants said he was enjoying the show, but fuck, I wanted to see his body. When I rolled my nipples between my fingers, I gasped and Matt’s mouth dropped open.

  “God, Hannah.” He pushed off his pants. He braced a hand against the wall and gripped his shaft. My eyes broke from his. I drank in the sight of his sculpted body, his stiff cock, his strong thighs. “This … is how it was, wasn’t it? You touching yourself … me touching myself.”

  My eyelids fluttered.

  “It was,” I said. “Not anymore.”

  “Not anymore.” Matt touched my face. He turned me gently to face the wall and rested his shaft along the cleft of my backside. “Can you tell, Hannah?” Matt gathered my hair with one hand. He kissed my ear. “Can you tell I like it, your tight little lingerie?”

  “Yes,” I breathed.

  “How? How can you tell?” Matt slid his sex up my crack. I pushed out my bottom and clenched my cheeks to grip him. Matt hissed. I grinned. Two could play at this game.

  “The way you stare,” I said.

  “Mm, what else?” He kissed the corner of my mouth. Lightly, he teased a fingertip over my sex. My desire oozed down his finger.

  “Your cock,” I said quietly. I knew that was the answer he wanted.

  “Yes. What about it?” Matt rewarded me by lazily circling my entrance with his finger. He pushed his chest against my back, and my heaving breasts met the wall.

  “Hard,” I mumbled.

  A whisper of laughter crossed the nape of my neck. I reached back and gripped Matt’s hips, trying to draw him closer to my body. His cock throbbed against my bottom.

  “That’s right, Hannah. You make my dick so fucking hard.”

  I moaned and tried to drive my body onto Matt’s finger, but I couldn’t move.

&n
bsp; Matt released me suddenly. My heavy hair fell around my shoulders; the pressure of his body eased and air rushed into my lungs. And then he dragged me down.

  Chapter 18

  MATT

  Fuck … the lingerie. Fuck.

  My brain went haywire when I looked at Hannah.

  “On the floor,” I said, pulling her down with me. Not for a moment did I let my cock lose contact with her skin. Hannah’s pert ass gripped me—that little devil—as I pressed her onto her hands and knees. I climbed over her.

  It was easy, that position, and so intimate. My limbs were longer than Hannah’s. I was stronger, firmer, taller; she fit under me perfectly.

  Hannah tried to part her knees on the floor, but her thong constrained her. I tugged on her hair. She moaned and lifted her head.

  “I’m going to fuck you on the floor,” I told her.

  She stilled beneath me. “Yes, please,” she said in her softest voice.

  “I’m not going to come. Not here. But I have to remember…” I reached between my legs. I positioned my head against Hannah’s sex. That touch—her wet cunt brushing the most sensitive part of my body—sent a violent shiver through me.

  “Get on my dick,” I growled.

  “Matt…” She began to rock back, the tiny motions sliding her onto my cock.

  I have to remember how this feels.

  “Good, that’s good,” I whispered. “Come on. That’s it…” I didn’t move. I let Hannah take her time, and she took her time. She pushed backward, then slid off me, then back, again and again. Our harsh moans mingled.

  At last, Hannah sank onto me fully. Her satin thighs pressed at mine. Her ass fit snugly against my abs. And her tight pussy held my cock. She quivered below me.

  “I love you,” she murmured.

  “Hannah, I fucking love you so much.” I bit her shoulder.

  We didn’t move—not much. I reached under Hannah and lifted her tits. She circled her hips subtly, moving my dick inside her.

  I pinned Hannah’s hand to the floor. I thrust into her once, slowly, and we moaned. Goddamn … I should have rubbed one out earlier in the day. I was never going to last.