The sand gave way to dirt, and suddenly we were in the long shade of the trees. The sun was setting, and I wanted to lose myself in the beauty of it. But there was a great yawning emptiness inside me, because no matter how good things were now, I was destined for the same heartbreak again. He'd leave me. They always left.
"Jenna," he said, softly. "Look."
He was pointing at a tree trunk. I stepped closer, my eyes still adjusting to the relative darkness. There was something carved in it. Blocky, unsteady letters, darkened with age but still starkly visible in the wood.
BW
SK
There was nothing else, just those two sets of initials stacked on top of each other. But it all came rushing back.
We took a break from building the castle when the lifeguard called adult swim and said we were too close to the water. We had to get out of the way. He didn't want to have to watch us. So we left, going into the woods, and he didn't care, just as long as we didn't drown on his watch.
The boy had a pocketknife, and I thought that was very cool and a little bit scary. I wasn't allowed to have one of my own. He showed it to me, and I gasped and told him to be careful.
He wanted to make a mark in one of the trees. A memory of the day, and how we built the best sandcastle to ever be built.
"What should I carve in it?"
I giggled. "Batman."
All day, he'd been calling himself Batman. I really didn't know who that was, except that he wore a scary rubber suit. I didn't like Batman, but I liked him. So if he called himself Batman, that was okay with me.
He shook his head, his messy hair falling down over his eye. "No. That's not what Batman would do. You gotta use your secret identity."
"So? What are you gonna put on it?"
Grinning, he dug the tip of the knife into the bark. "B.W.," he said. "For Bruce Wayne. That's what people call Batman whenever they don't know he's Batman."
"What about me?"
"You can be my sidekick," he said.
"I don't wanna be your sidekick." That made me mad. I knew what a sidekick was - less. Not as strong, not as powerful. Not fair. I wanted to be as cool as Batman.
"Fine," he said. "What about, if you were Catwoman?"
Catwoman. I wasn't sure I liked that, but it sounded better than being his sidekick.
"She's smart, too," he said. "Sometimes she's bad, but sometimes she's good. She's probably just as smart as Batman." He didn't like saying that, but he was trying to make me happy. I nodded enthusiastically.
"Okay. I'm Catwoman. What's my secret...identity?" I had to sound the word out carefully.
"S.K.," he said, starting to carve. "That's Selina Kyle. Don't forget it, okay? Next time I see you, that's what I'm gonna call you." He flipped his hair out of his eyes. "And what are you gonna call me?"
"Bruce," I said. "Bruce Wayne."
"That's right."
The sun beamed through his hair, and I smiled at him.
Ben's voice cut through the memory.
"Please tell me you remember."
I stared at him. Shorter hair, thinner face, and yeah, he was a few feet taller. But there was no mistaking it now. He'd brought the memory back to me, and I knew who he really was.
"Bruce," I whispered, stepping towards him, although my feet felt like lead.
"Hey, Selina." He was holding back his smile a little, but it still broke through. "It's been a while."
"Not so long," I said, softly. His fingers brushed against my cheek, feather-light, before they came around to cup the back of my neck. Possessive.
"I told you I'd come right back," he said. "How come you left?"
Tears welled in my eyes, and I didn't even think to be embarrassed. "Your parents were supposed to hate me."
"My parents didn't give a shit." His eyes locked with mine, and for once, they showed me everything. No artifice, no false bravado. The memory of childhood had stripped away everything dishonest about us, all the walls we'd put up in the many years we'd been apart.
A sob welled in my throat. I felt stupid, so stupid, for believing what my mother had told me. I knew all she wanted to do was protect me, but she'd torn me away from the one promising friendship of my childhood.
Suddenly, it all made sense. The connection we felt back then, the way he could always make me smile, just with a glance. The way we understood each other without having to speak. We'd both become different people - but really, nothing had changed at all. The way I felt about him now, and the way I felt about him then, suddenly mingled in a tidal wave of feelings that threatened to pull me under.
"There was a monsoon that night," he said, softly.
"I remember." I nodded, trying to swallow the thickness in my throat. "Washed away everything we built."
"I was here every year after that," he said. "But I could never find you again. By the time I was old enough to figure out how to start asking questions, I realized I didn't know anything about you. Were you here on vacation? Were you one of the townies' kids? I had no idea. And you grew up...your face changed..."
Taking a deep, shaky breath, I let my hands unclench by my sides. "How long have you known?"
He half-shrugged, his hand still clasped around the back of my neck. "I didn't remember, at first. I'll admit that. Not as clearly as you did. But when you told your story, it brought something back. I had to do some digging. I came back here, that weekend I was 'away on business.' I had to see for myself, and make sure my memory wasn't playing tricks on me. As soon as I saw this tree, it all came rushing back."
Somehow, I'd completely forgotten about the tree. Our fake names carved there, one on top of the other, as if they were waiting for a plus sign and an outline of a heart. But it hadn't been like that - not back then.
"Something's missing," I said, softly. Wondering if he'd understand.
His face broke into a lopsided grin. "I was hoping you'd say that."
Releasing me, he turned towards the tree, reaching into his pocket for something. I swallowed hard and watched as he unfolded the little pocketknife, and the blade glinted in the moonlight.
Carefully, painstakingly, he carved the little plus sign that signified our connection. Then came the heart, a big swooping design, slightly lopsided. Slightly imperfect.
Just right.
I giggled, stepping close to his side as he put the knife away. "I think you might need to see a cardiologist, dear."
"Fuck you." His arm slid around my waist. "Go ahead, you try to carve a decent heart with a twenty-year-old pocketknife. I'll be waiting."
My arms circled around him, silently, just holding him and feeling his body pressed against mine. Deep inside, there was a peace that hadn't been there before. A sense of calm. Belonging. I hadn't been rejected, all those years ago.
I didn't know what that meant for the future, but it brought closure to my past.
"I thought that was a pretty good gesture," he said, softly. A little teasingly. "Don't I even get a kiss?"
My whole body thrummed. "I want to," I admitted. "But if I kiss you now, I don't think I'll be able to stop."
"Oh, Mrs. Chase." His lips brushed against my temple, hot breath giving me goosebumps all over. "Didn't you notice how empty the beach was? I've had it closed for a private event. Nobody's here. Nobody's going to be here, all night." His hand slid down a little lower, to cup my ass. "Just us."
I laughed. "You closed the beach? Oh, the billionaire's kids must be pissed."
"They'll get over it," he said, spinning me around so that we were pressed together, face to face. "Someday, they'll understand."
Swallowing hard, I glanced at the tree. "Right here?" The idea excited me, and I was almost afraid to admit it. "Would that be horribly wrong?"
"Why?" His fingers travelled up my back, coming to fiddle with the clasp on my dress. "Here is perfect. Less sand. I don't know if you've had beach sex before, but..."
"We were just kids, last time." I swallowed hard. "This place..."
/> "Yeah, but now we're all grown up." He stepped back a little, letting my unfastened dress sag, threatening to fall and exposes my breasts, but not quite. His eyes raked up and down my body. "And how."
Giggling, I made a show of holding up the fabric to preserve my dignity. "Okay, now you're making it weird."
"This place is ours," he said, his eyes heavy-lidded as he swooped in to kiss me. Well - almost kiss me. He stopped just millimeters from my lips, to murmur. "It belongs to us. The memory. And we can do whatever we want with it. I know you don't want to lose the innocence from back then. It's not going anywhere. It'll always be like that, no matter what happens now." His hand grasped my hip, firmly. "Let's make some new memories. Ones we won't tell the grandkids about."
It was a joke. Just a joke, a thoughtless little innuendo that absolutely didn't mean a damn thing about his intentions for the future. I knew that. But when he said it, I couldn't help but feel a thrill at the idea he might actually want to start a family with me.
That he wanted this for real. Not just for show.
He kissed me, and all thoughts scattered. I clasped my arms around his neck, holding on for dear life as my knees buckled against him. I had no resistance left. Nothing. I just wanted him to touch me, and I wanted to spend a little longer pretending.
We sank to the ground, somehow, the delicious bulk of his body holding me down. The thrill of that sensation hadn't lost any of its newness, and I moaned into his mouth, trying to lose myself in the moment. Wanting to. But there was another, stronger desire that was threatening to overwhelm me, and I needed to know. Even if the answer would break my heart.
His hand was sliding up my thigh, under my skirt. I froze, then squirmed away. His hand stopped and slowly withdrew.
As I struggled to prop myself up on my elbows, he pulled back, letting me up. Confusion and lust warred in his expression, and I felt terrible.
"I can't do this." Tears shimmered in my eyes, and I felt a horrible knot of guilt in my chest. But I had to stop. I couldn't keep pretending. "I'm so sorry. I'm sorry, Ben. I thought I could, but I couldn't."
He stared at me, and I could almost see the gears trying to turn in his lust-clouded brain. "Can't do what?" he asked, finally.
"I can't keep pretending." The tears were spilling down my cheeks, and I hated it, hated my weakness. "I don't know what we're doing here, Ben, and it's killing me."
For a split second, he looked confused. Then he laughed.
The sound twisted in my chest, as I tried to understand. Did he think it was funny, that I'd actually fallen in love with him?
"Jenna," he said, still smiling. "Jenna. How much more clearly can I telegraph this for you? I brought you here. I carved a heart around our names. What do you want me to do, rent a sky-writing plane? 'Cause I will. If that's what it takes, I'll do it right now." He feigned reaching into his pocket. "I know a guy."
"I'm sure you do," I hiccuped, staring at him. "Ben, I...I don't know. I'm never sure if it's real, when you act like..."
When you act like you love me.
He was still laughing. "Jenna." He leaned forward, capturing my face in his hands. "I love you. I loved you the first time you shot me that fuck-you glance at the grocery store, although I didn't know it back then. I've been falling more in love with you every damn day. Have you really not noticed?"
I stared at him. "Was this whole thing just a ploy?" I demanded. "A convenient excuse to get close to me?"
I wasn't sure how I'd feel if it was. I mean, we were here now, weren't we? I was in love with him, wasn't I?
Now that I could admit it to myself, I didn't even have to frame it as a question. There was no doubt. I loved him more than I'd ever thought possible, every ridiculous line and every lopsided smile. I loved him because he didn't give a shit, because he'd punch a highly-respected member of the fetish community right in the face for disrespecting me. I loved him because he knew exactly how to touch, how to kiss, how to ignite. I'd never thought I would feel the way he made me feel.
When it came to him, I was helpless. There was no resistance, no hesitation. Just the slow fire creeping through my veins, lighting me up inside. He didn't just touch me, he worshipped me.
Of course he loved me back. How could I have missed it? He'd been telling me all along, with every whisper of his fingers against my skin. His lips, his tongue, every part of his body had betrayed him - if only I'd been paying attention.
"It wasn't a ploy." He looked offended. "I didn't know. I didn't know, until we were sitting by the water at that restaurant in wine country, and I looked at you and I realized..." His face softened. "I wanted this forever. I wanted it to be real. And when I saw you walking down the aisle in that white dress, it felt real. I knew it was real, at least for me. And I was so glad I'd arranged this - I needed a way to show you, something you wouldn't be able to ignore."
My heartbeat was thudding so loudly in my ears I couldn't even hear myself think.
Ben was smiling. "But apparently, you needed a little more clarification. So there it is. Should I go ahead and hire that skywriter?"
I swallowed, hard. "Maybe later," I said, hearing my voice go husky and feeling utterly powerless to do anything about it.
"Thank God," he breathed, pitching forward to crash his lips against mine. I squealed, then sighed - or would have, if his mouth wasn't devouring mine. He pushed me down into the ground with the weight of his body, his hips pinning mine, the hot, hard length of his arousal impossible to ignore.
"I'm a patient man, Mrs. Chase," he murmured, pulling away just long enough to let me catch my breath. "But even I have my limits."
Mrs. Chase. The full realization jolted through me, and suddenly I couldn't get him out of his clothes fast enough. This wasn't just for a few years, not just for long enough to convince the world, to fulfill an obligation. It was forever. He wanted it. He wanted me. Not just for tonight - forever.
He laughed softly as I tore at the buttons of his shirt, capturing my wrists and holding them tight. "Not yet," he murmured. "Turn over, sweetheart."
I couldn't help the little breathy mewl that came out of my throat. "Is this a good girl spanking?" I whispered, wriggling amongst the twigs and leaves as he pulled up my dress.
"Have you been good?" His hand caressed my bottom lightly, bringing out the goosebumps.
"Yes," I practically moaned, anticipating his first gentle swat.
He was pretending to consider this, his fingers tracing the edges of that lacy dark blue thong. "These don't look like good girl panties."
"I'll be so good," I whispered. "Please."
"That's not how this works." He gripped a handful of soft flesh, squeezing just tightly enough to make me moan again. "You don't get to make withdrawals based on promises of future behavior. The question is, have you been good?"
I nodded, momentarily forgetting how to make words come out of my mouth.
"Hmm." He let go his bruising grip, then stroked gently again. "I suppose I can overlook a few minor transgressions. Just this once. For our wedding night."
And with that, the ritual began. He warmed me up, just the way I wanted, just the way I needed. Until I was molten, until I whimpered and begged. Finally, he grabbed my hips and lifted me up, just holding me against him for a moment. The fabric of his pants, tented by his erection, rasped against my sensitive flesh.
"I know this is our first time as husband and wife," he whispered, pressing himself harder against me. "I know it's supposed to be missionary position with candles and scented bubble bath, but God..." He sighed. "I want you like this. Is that terrible, sunshine? Taking my new bride like an animal in the woods?"
If it was terrible, then I was terrible too. Far from wrong, it felt right, so perfectly intimate even if it meant I couldn't see his face. I didn't need to. His body told me everything I wanted to know.
Clutching the moss and leaves underneath me, I ground against him. Hoping he would understand, because I didn't know what to say. I'd forg
otten how to do anything but need.
With a soft growl, he pulled away just enough to unzip and slide himself against my entrance. Teasing, just a little, but not too much. He was desperate too, but he knew every little enticing touch, every moment he denied me, just dialed my pleasure a little higher. It was for me. It was all for me.
He cursed softly as he finally sank inside, so deep, ripping a groan from deep in my chest. "Aaah. Sunshine, you feel so good. I love you like this." He picked up a steady rhythm, his little sighs and groans punctuating each word as he spoke. "I love seeing my marks bloom on your pretty little ass while I claim you. Make you mine again. So many different ways to do it, and I never get tired of any of them."
I could hear the smile on his lips, now. "And I like it when you do this." He spanked me, lightly, and my whole body clenched. With a little, laughing groan, he smacked me again. "Fuck yeah. But I have to be careful with that if I want to last."
My whole body was alive with sensation, every inch of my skin tingling. Darkness fell slowly as we moved together, driven by deep love and primitive lust, rutting like wild things amongst the trees and dirt. I felt like I could no longer breathe without moaning his name.
I'd lost all sense of time when he slid one hand up my back and gripped my hair, tugging just the way I liked. "Touch yourself, baby," he whispered. "Come for me."
He didn't have to ask twice.
I was spiraling out of control in moments, my fingers flying, and his hand clamped over my mouth just in time to catch my scream. The beach might be deserted, but there were still houses within shouting distance. As my whole body jerked and shuddered, somehow, just as I hit my peak, I heard him panting and cursing as he tried in vain to hold himself back. But my clenching core was insistent, milking his pleasure from him. Hearing him tumble unwillingly into his own climax only made mine stronger, and we both writhed together as we slowly tumbled down the other side.
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