Fighting Gravity

by Julie Adams

  I slip from my pants and I’m halfway out of my blouse before I let him go, stripping the rest of the way until I’m in nothing but fine blush lingerie. I step back in front of him and I see his eyes are heavy with desire, he licks his lips and all I can think of is his tongue on me.

  “Lick me,” I whisper, my voice is soft and breathy, but there’s no denying the command there.

  He steps from the doorframe and kisses me, his hand tangling in my hair, tugging gently for me to tilt up to him. Even when he’s submitting he can’t control his natural alpha. He trails little kisses along my jaw, to my neck. He licks from my collarbone to the swell of my breast pulling the fabric aside he flicks my nipple with his tongue, drawing the bud tighter and I’m so turned on that I’m ready to put an end to all of this and tell him to fuck me hard.

  I don’t, I’m too high on having him please me in any way I see fit.

  I watch him, his eyes never leaving mine as he sinks to the floor, even on his knees he still has to bend to lick the seam of my thigh. It’s my turn to moan, my head falling back as he traces my panty line. My fingers twine in his hair. I wait for him to put his warm, wet tongue where I need it most, but he doesn’t.

  I look down at him and he raises a brow. He’s gonna make me spell it out for him.

  “Lick my pussy,” I say it quickly, the words feeling unnatural to me. When they leave my mouth it turns me on. I'm not just seductive, I'm wanton.

  He yanks the panties down and puts his mouth around me. His tongue gently probing my folds, swirling around my clit before he gives it a long flick, then sucks it into his mouth. I groan.

  His hands go between my thighs and grip my ass pulling me further apart for him. He pushes me forward a bit before pulling me back, urging me to ride his tongue. I do, and god I’m so close. My body aching with the need for release, I’m clenching so hard it hurts to have nothing inside of me.

  “Yo- your fingers,” I moan. Without missing a lick of my clit, he sinks three fingers inside me. I’m so wet he slides in with hardly any resistance.

  The feel of him stretching and filling me up does it. I come so hard I start to shake. My knees giving out, he wraps an arm around my waist supporting me. He slows the thrusts of his fingers, letting me just enjoy the sensation of pulsing around him. He licks softly around my opening.

  He leans back to look up at me. So eager, his cock jutting straight up. “And now?”

  “On the bed.” I command. He lays back on the bed, stretching out with his hands behind his head, putting his body on full display. He hands me a condom and I slide it over his length.

  I straddle him, running my sensitive core over him without letting him enter me. “Damn,” He breathes arching up to sink inside me. I pull back and shake my head no. He grins up at me. I keep teasing him, pressing him between his stomach and my wetness, grinding against him, getting myself close to orgasm once more. He’s fisting the sheets, his legs tight as he tries to control himself.

  “If you don’t let me inside you now, I’m going to explode. And I’m not going to be very happy about it.” He growls.

  I raise a brow. Sliding back away from him. “About to break, Mr. Erickson?” There’s something fun about calling him by his last name right now, as if we hardly know each other.

  He nods, smirking up at me. He’s begging me with his eyes. And he looks so beautifully tormented and sexy that I want him inside of me, games be damned.

  I slide over him once more and swiftly slide back down, slipping him inside me.

  We both sigh in relief.

  Nothing compares to him stretching me until he fits perfectly. “So. Fucking. Good.” He whispers watching me move.

  The way he’s looking at me makes me feel like a goddess. I can ignore the little roll around my stomach, the way my breasts aren’t perfectly symmetrical, and everything else that’s wrong with me. Because the way he’s looking at me right now tells me he doesn’t see any of it.

  “Ride me until you come, chérie, I want to feel you taking what you need.” He runs a hand through my hair, down my side, and over my thigh, gripping my ass and forcing his hips up deeper into me. Giving me more leverage on the solid plane he’s creating with his body.

  He’s grown harder, I can feel him throbbing inside of me. I grind harder and faster against his pelvis, my bud getting all the friction it needs to work me up into a frenzy. The head of his cock is hitting that perfect spot inside of me, sliding over it at just the right angle.

  Both of his hands are on my ass now, and he’s urging me faster when I start losing momentum. Not that I want to, I’m just not in the best shape for this kind of vigorous riding.

  He pulls my cheeks apart and rubs a finger over my ass. It's that little thing that sends me spiraling up and out until I’m bursting like a firework, I grind against him, slowing as my body tenses around him. I’m shuddering. He groans and I can feel him coming inside of me.

  I slump against him. He wraps his arms around me, a hand stroking up and down my spine. “Best sex I’ve ever had.” He whispers into my ear, and if I wasn’t glowing before I am now.

  I laugh into his neck. I feel so damn powerful right now, I imagine this must be how Catwoman feels after getting away from Batman. Or getting it on with Batman.

  Twenty

  Nathan

  I watch Lily sleep. Maybe it’s my imagination but she seems more peaceful than I’ve ever seen her.

  I had seen the glimmer in her eyes when she got her confidence back. After her story tonight it had come to me to try this experiment. I know now, why she was so hesitant about me and our relationship. And I needed to show her she has power in this relationship, power over me. Even if it was showing her in the most primal way.

  An anger burns inside me about the man and his wife, I wish I could erase them from her life. I wish that I could dole out proper justice to the cheating prick who caused it all. Maybe it was this anger that kept me awake while the rest of the apartment slept.

  Kissing Lily’s shoulder, I slide from beneath the sheets and into my boxers. There are only two things that can possibly qualm this feeling inside me. And one of them is exhausted.

  I slide onto the piano bench and pick up Lily’s song. I’ve got it perfected and I like playing it in the same way I enjoy playing Fur Elise. Something I can do without thinking, something I can get lost in.

  My fingers move across the ivory keys. The tension leaving me with every note. I get swept up in it, closing my eyes and feeling it inside me.

  Warm hands wrap around my shoulders. I smile, feeling her warm body press into me. She sits beside me, clad in only the sweatshirt she’s laid claim to.

  I watch her from the corner of my eye in the near dark. She’s reading the notes and listening to them come to life. She makes out the sloppy scrawl at the top. Lily’s Sonata. Her hand comes to her mouth and I see her cheeks blush as she smiles.

  “For me?” She whispers and I turn to look at her. There’s a sheen to her eyes catching the light from outside.

  “Yes, for you.” Before I can say anything else her mouth finds mine, her hands coming to my face as she holds me in place. It’s both tender and heady.

  “Thank you, it’s beautiful.” She whispers against my lips. “Play it for me one more time?”

  “As you command,” I chuckle and she lays her head on my shoulder as I tinkle out the first notes.

  When I finish and look at her, she’s still beaming, her eyes closed.

  “This is going to sound weird, but I wrote a poem that sounds similar. I mean that you’ve captured the emotion I was trying to convey perfectly.”

  “Like a flower dying in the frost and coming to life again in the spring its roots deeper?” I ask, and I don’t think she catches the sadness in my voice.

  Her mouth is open a little and she nods. “Exactly, like that.” She stares at me in awe. And I know that after all her confessions and her putting all her trust in me, af
ter being betrayed by a man she trusted so much, that I’ll have to tell her the truth or I’m no better than him.

  I have to tell her before she finds out some other way. I pray to all the gods that she won’t hate me when I’ve told her everything. I don’t know if I’d survive losing her.

  In the morning I leave first, taking the spare key out of the kitchen drawer and putting it on the nightstand beside Lily. She’s still sleeping and I don’t have it in me to wake her. This is the first time she’s really slept in at my place, I can tell she’s getting comfortable and that makes me happier than I could have ever imagined. I scrawl a quick note and kiss her goodbye.

  Tossing a treat to Frankie on the way out, I give him a good back scratch. “You’re on the clock, time to be a ferocious guard dog.” He nuzzles his snout into my pant leg and I know I’ve hired the wrong dog.

  Twenty One

  Lily

  A cold, wet button presses against my arm and I open one eye. Frankie is looking back at me. I laugh. His eyes looking even more bugged this close. He looks so happy to have someone here with him. He bounces around on the bed a few times and I call him over. He lays beside me and I pet him. Admiring the view of Paris through the windows.

  It’s one of those perfect, dream-like moments you have occasionally in your life. I’m laying in a plush bed, in a glitzy Paris apartment looking at the Eiffel Tower. After a night of lovemaking that can only be described as incredible. Nathan had re-awoken something in me last night. Something I forgot I had. I knew I was strong, I knew I could survive. But I forgot I had my own power and could crush someone like they could crush me.

  Beth has already texted me, in her cheeky way she’s demanded I stay in Nathan’s apartment for as long as needed getting all the loving I need. And that if I could squeeze some work in around orgasms I should. But sex was the first priority.

  She’s hands down the best boss I’ve ever had.

  I take a long shower and as I’m rifling through the hangers in Nathan’s closet my phone chimes.

  Nathan: Look in the drawer where I keep your favorite sweatshirt.

  The man has impeccable timing.

  Curious, I pull open the drawer and laugh. It’s full of women’s clothing in my size. I would have been uncomfortable about this once, and maybe a part of me still is, but it’s getting smaller. This is just Nathan and his over-the-top gestures, I’m going to have to accept them if I’m going to be with him, he’s made that clear time and time again. This to him is what flowers are to any other guy.

  Pulling on underwear and a bra. Thank god he’s not completely hormone driven and has gotten me some comfortable cotton sets. Next a pair of jeans and a navy button up.

  When I walk out of the closet Frankie has claimed my spot in the bed. “It’s a great view, huh?” I say and he snuggles deeper into the comforter as if agreeing. And maybe he’s telling me I’m just a little stupid for leaving the bed.

  I pad into the kitchen and look at the espresso machine. I run my hand across the knobs and buttons. I’m clearly never going to be able to work this thing. He has to have a simple coffee pot or french press around here.

  “Yes!” I cheer when I spot the Keurig on the corner of the counter, nearly hidden in the shadows. Rifling through the counters I find a pod and pop it in and watch the dark liquid fill a clear glass coffee mug.

  In a cabinet, I find bread and settle for some buttered toast when what I really want is a chocolate almond croissant.

  Poor me. Who cares about food when you have this view?

  With toast and coffee in hand, I curl up on one of the island stools and pull my Ipad out of my bag.

  Logging into my work email I see that we have over a hundred. Some of the usual questions about ghosts and the murder. But there are quite a few inquiries about show bookings. I go to those first and go to the artist pages and listen to their demos. A few aren’t bad and have a decent fan following, I bookmark them to show Beth and Brent.

  It seems like we might be catching a break.

  I’m on my third cup of coffee and over halfway through the inbox when my phone rings, startling both me and Frankie, who’s curled up in his bed a few feet from me.

  Seeing it’s Brent, I swipe to answer. “Hello?” I say in a singsong voice, turning to look at the Eiffel Tower through the enormous window. It’s so foggy I can only just make it out.

  “Lil, I need you to call a car and get home, now.” His tone is so serious my stomach instantly knots. Previous joy forgotten.

  “Why? What’s going on?” I ask already throwing things in my bag.

  “You’ll see when you get here. Is Nathan there with you?” I can hear other people in the background, must be the construction crew.

  “No, he’s at work. Brent, you’re scaring me,” I say pulling on my coat and feeling inside my purse for my mace.

  “I’m sorry, Lily. Just call and car and don’t go out until it’s at the curb, got it?”

  “Yes, bu-”

  He cuts me off. “Lily, damn it, just do as I ask for once.” He growls.

  It pisses me off. But even more, it sends an ice cold chill through every vein. Brent hasn’t spoken to me like that since we were kids.

  “Okay.” I say and we hang up. My insides churn, something's very wrong.

  A few quick swipes on my phone and a car is on its way. Frankie sensing my panic sidles up to me and rubs his face against my ankle. I bend down and hug him to me like I’m a child. He gives me a few licks and I struggle to pick him up. When I do, we go to the window and wait for the car.

  Seconds tick by like hours until the sedan arrives.

  Reluctantly, I sit Frankie down with a final snuggle, and go outside, locking the apartment up behind me.

  The ride seems to take forever and I’m on edge. When the car stops in front of Beth’s I look for any little sign as to what’s wrong. The outside looks the same as any other day.

  The foyer and stairs the same as well. I’m not sure what I expected, but by Brent’s tone I wouldn’t have been surprised if there were chalk outlines and detectives dusting for fingerprints.

  Opening the apartment door I expect to see nothing and I’m already thinking about how I’m going to tease Brent for being so overdramatic and scaring me.

  I don’t know the two men standing in the apartment talking to Brent and Beth, but I know immediately they’re inspectors of the French police. My heart begins to pound so hard I become dizzy, I can hear the blood rushing in my ears, muffling Brent’s words as he looks at me.

  I glance around the apartment and see that it’s been ransacked. Furniture rifled with, drawers torn open, their contents on the floor or sticking out haphazardly.

  Oh. My. God.

  I can’t breathe. No, I’m breathing too fast, too clipped. Brent’s arm wraps around me.

  “It’s okay, Lily.” He soothes. He sounds like he's talking to me underwater. “There’s no one here, now.”

  That isn’t comforting. If they’re not here where are they?

  “What happened?” I can barely get the words out, they’re merely a whisper. The inspectors look at each other then to Beth who gives me a sympathetic look before explaining my anxiety in French. I catch bits of it. “After the attack... Stress... You understand...”

  “Where is she?” I demand Brent to tell me.

  “She’s still locked up thousands of miles away.” He says. “The apartment was broken into, nothing seems to be taken.” He explains. He opens his mouth to say more but one of the inspectors eases in and begins to speak. Both men are in their early forties with dark hair and features, they could be brothers.

  “I’m Inspector, Bisset. And this is Inspector Franks. I have a few questions for you, are you well enough to answer?” He’s not as brusque as I thought when first glancing at him, and he’s speaking to me in English. He’s being kind, patiently waiting for me to respond.

  I nod. “I can answer.”

/>   “Is there anyone who would want to harm you? Besides the lady in America?” He asks his pen poised above a pad of paper.

  “No.”

  “No one you’ve met in Paris?”

  I shake my head, “No.” I force myself to pull it together. Monosyllabic answers are going to help no one. “I’ve made no connections in Paris, other than the man I spent last night with.”

  Bisset looks at his pad. “Nathan Erickson?” I nod. “And can you think of anyone you’ve met that maybe gave you the impression of disliking you?”

  I think back to that day in the shopping gallery. Just a peeping tom. Nothing special about that. Other than feeling like I was being followed. But was I really, was it all just paranoia and anxiety?

  “No,” I say again.

  “It seems your room suffered the most damage, that’s why we think you were the target.” Franks explains.

  “Could it be your ex? Dave?”

  “No, we haven’t had any kind of contact in over a year. He was adamant at first, but he’s given up on us ever getting back together, I believe.”

  “Okay, this could be just a random break-in, maybe they didn’t find anything they thought worth their time,” Bisset says pocketing his notebook with a shrug.

  “But they took nothing,” Beth says waving a hand at the television and sound system. And she's right, there's plenty of valuables that could get them some kind of money for their troubles.

  “Thieves usually only take small goods. Most of the time, they leave the televisions and other big, hard to carry items.” He pulls out several cards and hands one to each of us. “If anything suspicious occurs, contact me.”

  Brent’s jaw is grinding, he’s furious but he takes the card anyway. The inspectors see themselves out.

  “What fucking good are they?” He fumes.

  “What more can they do?” I ask, standing from the couch and making my way to my room. They said it was the worst out of the apartment.

  “We won’t leave you alone for a second,” Beth says following me down the hall. “It could be nothing like the detectives said. But just in case,”