I hated Ryan for putting me in this position. He set the bar so high that anyone I might even consider dating was likely to be dismissed early for one reason or another. Who could possibly hope to match his support and love, his warmth and joking demeanor, his sex played out through each day, one silly fun interchange at a time? I drew my knees to my chest and hugged them, burying my face in the space they created. I cried, letting the tears drop a painted pattern onto my pants. Even as they fell, I watched them and the random way they fell from my lashes. Tears were a companion of sorts. At least recently they had been. I’d become good at crying, and this was a day to let it wash over me and watch the patterns emerge on my pants. I shook my head and smiled at how mindless and numb I had become.
* * *
“I’ll do it,” I said that evening back in the hotel as we packed.
Jackie and Talia both gaped and exchanged disbelieving looks.
“No, really, I’ll do it. When we get back to Germany, I’ll call him.”
“Don’t do it because I told you to.” Talia’s voice was stern and almost resentful.
“I’m not.”
“Don’t blame me either.” Jackie was far more sporty in her warning.
“I won’t, ya bandwagon jumper-onner.” We burst out laughing. “Now, let’s get on with this touristy thing. We start fresh tomorrow.” I turned to Talia. “Where are we headed, Ms. Tour Guide?”
“Well, I think somebody demanded that we go sip cocoa in the Alps somewhere. So…Switzerland. We’ll catch the train here in a few hours, so get your butts moving, ladies!”
“I wonder who had that great idea…hmmm?” I pondered mockingly.
“Bah! Same lady who has all the great ideas,” Jackie replied. I puffed out my chest and stood proudly. “Me!” She finished her thought and I stood there looking foolish and acting forlorn which brought a fresh round of hearty laughter.
The rest of the trip went amazingly well. I could not have asked for better travel mates or companions. We three were definitely well suited for one another, but I suppose that’s the way of it with three strong independent women.
And then we were home again in Munich. The hustle and bustle of being tourists wound down within hours of arriving back at my apartment. And suddenly, the weight of my promise felt heavier than it had that day in Venice. I tried to think back to those moments sitting beside the canal, feeling the raw sense of Ryan’s presence and how silly it would be to throw that away without at least one last phone call. I had gone from watching my tears fall to staring out over the sunset, remembering how many of those Ryan and I had watched at the beach, out camping, at the track, and that very special last sunrise before I had come to Germany. Surely, I could dial his number one last time. It couldn’t be that difficult. And maybe he did have a good reason for not coming. Maybe he had reasons for not calling me or messaging me in any medium. I should at least give him a chance to explain. And yet the prospect of dialing his number seemed daunting now.
We relaxed that first night back, and nobody brought it up. Instead, we ate a meager dinner of Muesli, with milk and some fresh fruit; we were all too exhausted for anything else. The next afternoon, I announced that I would follow through with my promise, a proclamation that landed my Adam’s apple firmly in the middle of my windpipe. And even now, as I dialed his number, I found breathing difficult. The girls had hugged me and wished me luck before leaving me here to the task at hand, promising to be there just in the living room to hear the good news when it was all over.
And now, I looked at my old crappy cell phone where he lived, and digit by digit, I pressed the numbers into my business cell. Each digit I pressed felt like it was impossible to pound into the phone. And then, finally, I had entered the entire string.
Butterflies swarmed my stomach, and I squeezed and released my toes on the carpet over and over again to expend the nervous energy. My legs bounced up and down. I inhaled deeply and exhaled as slowly as I could manage. Three rings…I wonder what his voice will sound like. Will it still affect me viscerally like it always used to? Four, five…maybe he was screening his calls. Six, seven…maybe he was with his new girlfriend, and now was a bad time. Eight…no voicemail? Nine…this was a dumb idea. Ten…now I just seem desperate. Eleven…I should hang up. Twelve…my thumb put me out of my misery. I threw myself onto my pillow and cried. That was it then. It was done. I couldn’t leave a voicemail because the call never went there. Maybe he changed his number. Maybe he screened my call. Maybe he wasn’t actually available right now, but that seemed the least likely of all the choices after everything that transpired in the past few months.
I bleated into my pillow, and the door creaked open. Talia and Jackie sat on the edge of the bed. Someone’s hands were on my back, Talia’s voice asking what happened. I told them. They shrugged it off.
“Try again tomorrow.”
“Or maybe an e-mail.”
“Didn’t you guys used to IM?”
I bolted up to a seated position. “It’s not that fucking simple! Do you know how hard it was to dial that number?” My voice cracked. “Do you know how long I let it ring? Do you know how stupid I look now? How bad this hurts? No! You don’t know. I should’ve never come to Germany! I should’ve never let him go. I have no one to blame but myself. I should leave him alone. He’s moved on. I know it. I…” I melted into tears again and fell back onto the bed.
“You don’t know that he’s moved on.”
“The truth is you don’t know anything yet.”
“Give it time. Talk to him at least once more. Find a way.”
“Why do you two care so fucking much if Ryan gets another chance?” I shouted at the ceiling and to neither of them in particular.
Talia spoke first. “Look, hun, I’ve never seen you happier than when you were with him, and I think you should try to get that back. I want you to be happy. And in all the time I’ve known you, he was the one who brought it out of you. You’re beautiful and amazing and powerful and yes…independent as all get out, but you’re even more beautiful when you are happy and never more so than when you were with him. You deserve that. You deserve what you had with him, so why not get that back? Or at least find out why you don’t have it anymore? Don’t you think you deserve it? Or at least deserve an explanation?”
I sniffled but didn’t answer at first. We looked at each other for a long time. She loved me and wanted what was best for me. I knew that. And I did want an explanation, and yes, I thought I deserved it. I shrugged. “Yeah, I guess,” I said meekly, taking the tissue she offered me and blowing my nose in a most unladylike fashion.
And then Jackie said, “It’s way simpler for me. I agree with everything Talia said, but really, I have never seen two people happier than when I saw you two together. He loves you. Not loved, loves. I know he does and he always will. The truth is I’m jealous of what you guys had. I want that. And if you two can work it out, then I get to stay hopeful that maybe one day, I’ll find it, too. I want you to have that because if you have it,” her voice cracked uncharacteristically, “then I still have hope.”
I hugged her and held her for a long time.
Chapter Thirteen
The hugging and sobbing continued off and on while we packed them up and rode to the airport the next morning.
“You better call me as soon as you get word from him,” Talia warned.
“I’m gonna call you anyway, no matter what.” I rolled my eyes and bobbled my head.
“And me!” Jackie piped in.
“Girl, you know I’m going to have plenty of work stuff to complain about, and I need to bend your ear so you can tell me how much worse it is at your office!”
“Ugh. Don’t remind me! I only have one more day off when I get back to town, and then I’m back to the grind!”
We said our farewells as they headed back t
oward the gates and through customs. I cried all the way home. Being alone doesn’t have to mean you’re lonely, but today, I was desolately both.
I fixed a cup of hot chamomile tea when I got home and sat down at my computer, trying to fashion some kind of message to send Ryan. I wanted to seem loving and kind and open and casual. I wanted him to know that I missed him without making him feel trapped. I wanted to do anything, so long as it didn’t make me seem like something he needed to shake loose of. How could I convey all that I felt in this message without sounding like a Debbie Downer? I was distraught over him and alone. My world felt barren and colorless, but I couldn’t say that. He might think that I was too weak of a woman for him; he might think that I wasn’t the woman he used to know.
Maybe I would just say, “Hi, babe. Missing you. And wondering how you’re doing, :)” Surely, that was light and airy enough, and then maybe he would answer me and tell me what was going on with him. Maybe he would reply with something as simple as a “Hello, babe.” I think I’d be happy with anything that continued the conversation. But if I was so light and airy, would he think I hadn’t missed him? Would he think I had just blown off the fact that he didn’t come, shrugged it off like I didn’t care? Because that wasn’t at all what had happened, and I wanted him to know I cared. I sighed heavily and sipped my tea. An hour later, I swigged the last icy swallow of the cup and stared at the computer screen: blank.
I slammed the laptop lid shut, put my cup in the sink, and went to bed. I pulled my old phone out of the nightstand drawer and held it delicately, as if he himself lived inside it. I pressed and held the power button. Slowly, it came to life. “Where are you, Ryan?” I whispered into the chill night air. The phone powered up, but just when I found his voice clips, it shut down, restarting. I rolled onto my back and stared at the ceiling, tears slowly making their way to the pillow through my hair. I remembered that time at the beach, the day of Chris’s accident.
I can feel the way you love me…here. I placed my hand over my heart. And here. I squeezed my breast, and then I squeezed my eyes tightly shut, wringing the tears from them as I smiled and traced down my hip to the rise of my mound. I smiled through my tears. And here! I squeezed my pubic bone and wiped my tears with my other hand.
“I love you, Ryan Riverton,” I said into the dark nothingness.
I took the battery out of that shitty old phone and put it back in the nightstand. Maybe another day.
Maybe another day.
* * *
I dreamt of Ryan that night. He came to me here in my apartment in Germany. He snuck in somehow, and I woke up to find him lying next to me, propped up on one elbow. I looked at him as if I’d been expecting him.
“I needed you.” His voice rumbled against my chest.
I reached up and stroked his cheek. “I need you, too, baby. Even now.”
“Why did you leave me? Why didn’t you call back? Why did you hang up?”
“You abandoned me. You weren’t coming. We made these plans months before, and you abandoned me. I…I lost it. I was…” I looked into his eyes; these excuses weren’t working. “I’m sorry, baby. I am so sorry. Please forgive me.”
He wrapped his fingers behind my head, his thumb in front of my ear, and he pulled me to him. He kissed me tenderly. Any doubts I had about his love faded away, rinsed as easily as soap from a dish. I took his face in my hands and pulled him further into the kiss, pushing my tongue past the amazingly warm plump lips that were upon mine and into his mouth, seeking his tongue, seeking to play, wanting to ignite his lust, our fire. He did not disappoint. His tongue teased mine, drawing me in, poking and prodding. My nipples tensed inside my T-shirt, and suddenly, his hand was there, warm, massaging, softening one of them, and then twisting it again into a peak. My belly trembled and my hips seized. My cunt was on fire, and I needed him to touch me. I grabbed his wrist and wrenched his hand from my breast, pushing it down to my pussy. I placed it there and wrapped my fingers over his, pushing them between my legs and over the growing damp spot on my panties. “Please, make love to me?”
His mouth was at my neck, sucking hungrily, biting almost angrily. I deserved it—and it felt good—like sweet ecstasy. His anger played out on my body. I moaned and stretched my neck. He bit harder. That would leave a mark. I didn’t care. His fingers had moved my panties aside and were pushing inside me. Over and over again, he delved deeper into my hot wet cunt. It had been so long since a man had touched me that I was tight, almost too tight for his fingers. His cock was going to hurt. I couldn’t wait. I fumbled at his belt, scrambling to get it apart and get to what waited behind it. I wanted to taste him, to ride him, to just feel his cock in my grip one more time. He yanked my panties down. I lifted my legs so he could remove them, but he didn’t. His hand was back at my pussy, rubbing from my clit to my ass and back, lubricating everything. And then he massaged my tight rosebud before sliding the tip of his finger into my ass.
“Oooh…” I moaned and gasped but did not stop him.
I finally had his pants open and pulled his cock free. It was so fucking amazing. I had missed it so much. I ran my finger over the tip, sliding across his pre-cum and glazing the head of his cock with it. He pushed me onto my back. I drew my finger to my mouth; he tasted exquisite, as always. He stood and undressed in lightning speed before leaning over me, kissing me, straddling my hips. And he tugged on my T-shirt hem. “Get this off,” he demanded. I sat up and took it off, and as I pulled it over my head, he grabbed my wrists and held them in the air above my head. He kissed each palm and then worked his way down my right wrist and forearm, releasing the arm as he turned his attention to my left arm. He kissed and nibbled all the way down the arm past the tricep and toward the side of my body. The lower he got, the more he leaned into me. I lay back on the bed, offering him the left side of my torso. He bit and sucked. He was far less gentle now. He demanded my body; he was taking it. Still straddling me, he moved downward so he could continue his siege. His balls dragged along my thighs, his cock hovering above them but dripping profusely.
When he reached my hip, he lifted and turned me onto my belly, yanking me forcefully by the hips up to my knees. He pushed his way between my legs, using his knees to spread my legs farther apart. I tried to wiggle to a more comfortable position, but he slapped my ass and gripped my hips even more tightly, pulling me back to the position he wanted me in. Applying heavy pressure at the small of my back and sliding to its middle, he pushed my upper torso onto the bed. I extended my arms out in front of me, bracing against the wall at the head of the bed.
He teased me first, rubbing his cockhead along my slit, sliding just the tip into my hole and then withdrawing. He slid his cock from my clit to my asshole and back again, slapping it on my ass at the top of each stroke. I began to rock in tiny little movements, reaching beneath me and finding my clit three times its normal size. “Fuck me, Ryan. Please give it to me.”
He aligned his cock and teased me over and over again so that I thought he would never fuck me at all. And then he slammed into me with full force, and, holding onto my hips, he plowed into me harder and harder, his thighs banging against the tops of my hamstrings, his balls slapping at my clit, his cock stretching and filling my pussy like never before. It hurt at first. He was huge, I was tight, and I wanted to cry out. But I wanted him so badly, and I deserved to be fucked like this. I wanted it; I wanted his animal sex. He grunted as he banged into me, his grip on my hips so tight that I was sure there were bruises. My fingers moved faster and faster across my clit, my head laid sideways on the bed, and my other hand squeezing my breasts and teasing my nipples. The harder he fucked, the closer I was to the edge. I moaned and cried out. His cock felt better and better with each angry slam. He moved his hands to the round of my ass and slid a thumb into my tight little hole. I screamed and exploded all at once. Cum poured from my pussy, coating his cock and balls and sliding up to my clit l
ike a blanket of warmth.
Before I could stop trembling, he pulled out of my pussy and rubbed his cock on my ass. He slid it up and down my ass crack, getting me really lubricated. I knew what was next. We’d only done this a few times and never in this position. He was always so gentle and slow. This position didn’t lend itself to that. I leaned to one side, offering that maybe a change of position would be good. He said nothing. Instead, he grabbed my hips and righted me back to the position I had been in. I bit my lip as he slowly pressed the head of his dick into my ass. As the tip slowly stretched my tiny little hole, it felt smooth and slick, but the flare of his head stretched me so far that it made me yelp. He didn’t stop. Slowly but without pausing at all, he gave me every inch of his cock. And when he was buried to the hilt, he pulled my hips back toward him even further. He must’ve been nearly seated on his haunches.
And then it began. Small strokes at first, in and out, sawing my ass, stretching it, moving me as he wished. I winced and occasionally cried out but never stopped him. I took deep breaths and felt his cock filling me, felt the ferocity of his grip on my hips, now aching from being his handhold for so long. And relentlessly, he pounded my ass, pressing his hand on the top of my hips and anchoring me to the bed. I reached for the distant wall. Somehow, it had gotten farther away now, and I couldn’t brace myself. I put my hands near my head and grabbed the sheets and held on, trying to hold my ground. The longer he fucked me, the better this felt—his cock now sliding in and out of my tight little ass. I felt every single ridge of the ribbing on the sides of his cock. Each movement was electrifying. “Yes, baby, fuck me. Please. I’ve missed you so much.” I reached under me and fondled his balls, taking breaks to rub my newly swelling clit and finger fuck my pussy.
Sunrise Fires Page 12
