by R. G. Angel
I smiled at him tentatively, trying to show much more bravado than I felt.
I held my breath as he reached for his belt, undoing his pants, his eyes never leaving mine.
He pulled them down along with his boxers only keeping on his white button-down shirt.
I looked down and couldn’t help the dread that settled in my stomach at the size of his penis. I was far from an expert but I’d touched myself, I’d worn tampons – I knew how tight I was and what he was sporting was a force to be reckoned with. I doubted our odds to make it fit.
“Don’t worry Esmeralda,” Caleb soothed, probably seeing the fear so blatant on my face, “it’s going to be fine.” He crawled onto the bed beside me and started to kiss my breast, his erection pressing against my leg, making it impossible to forget what was going to be in me soon.
He pulled my nipple in his mouth and sucked it; I buried my hand in his hair. The sensation was almost as intense as when he was between my legs.
“I never thought I was a boob man,” he whispered, blowing on my nipple, making it even tighter, “but yours…” He bit it gently. “They are absolutely perfect.”
I blushed as he showered both my breasts with his attention. I’d developed early and having a D cup had been an impediment in sport and caused much unwanted attention, but right now, with the way he worshipped them, I was happy with their size.
Much to my regret, Caleb stopped kissing my breasts and rolled on top of me, his hot member against my lower belly.
I slid my hands under his shirt but I barely had a chance to feel his back before he grabbed my hands and held them by the wrists above my head.
“No,” he rocked his hips, rubbing his length against my clit, spreading warmth all over my body. “The shirt stays,” he added, rocking his hips twice in quick succession, almost making me come again.
“Okay, fine just -” I shook my head, I was so aroused I felt I was about to lose my sanity.
“Just what?”
I shook my head again. “I don’t know, I don’t know.”
“I won’t lie, Esmeralda; it’s going to hurt, but I’ll do my best to ease the pain.” He supported himself on his forearm and rubbed himself against my wet heat.
I felt him push gently. “Wait!”
He froze, meeting my eyes with an eyebrow arched quizzically.
“Condom.”
He frowned. “Why?”
“I’m obviously not on the pill and you said you always wrap it up.”
“Yes, I don’t know where they’ve been and I don’t want them popping out illegitimate Astors and getting alimony because they got laid.” He leaned down and grabbed my bottom lip between his teeth and sucked on it, nudging at my entrance again. He let my lip pop out soundly. “I know you’ve never been anywhere, and” he shrugged one shoulder “Having a little Astor running around wouldn't be the end of the world.”
I rested my hand against his jaw. “Please Caleb, I can’t be the pregnant bride, please.” I begged, looking at him with a tenderness I didn’t have to fake. I also couldn’t afford a baby in my escape plan.
He detailed me for a few seconds before letting out a sigh of resignation. “Alright.” He rolled off me, reached into his night table and was back on top of me all wrapped up. He clearly had experience.
He settled between my legs again and pushed against my entrance. I gasped as he breached me.
“Just breathe,” he whispered pushing it slowly, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration.
It was not as bad as I expected, I was just feeling…. uncomfortably full. It seemed he had been pushing in forever he had to be all in now, right?
He pushed a little more and I winced.
“I’m sorry.”
I was about to ask what he was sorry for when he thrust forward, and the pain I felt took my breath away.
My eyes filled with tears as I gasped to fill my lungs with much-needed air.
“Shh,” He kissed my forehead, it was almost too gentle to be him. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t prevent that.”
“It burns,” I growled between clenched teeth, as tears ran down the side of my face.
He kissed the tears. I wasn’t sure if it was to comfort me or if he enjoyed it. I wasn’t sure what version of Caleb he was right now – Port Harbor’s Caleb or Stonewood’s Caleb.
He looked up and met my eyes, still immobile in me. His eyes revealed so much at the moment, it was like sex was bringing out his vulnerability. I could see his pain, his anger, his confusion and, dare I say, tenderness in his eyes.
He tried a slow shallow trust and I winced a little, making him stop again.
“No, no it’s okay. It’s better I promise.”
He narrowed his eyes slightly and pursed his lips as if he didn’t really buy it but he started to move, taking shallow, slow thrusts and after a few moves, the pain started to subside and the friction inside of me, whilst not really pleasant, didn’t feel bad anymore, it was actually an interesting feeling of fullness I quite enjoyed.
I raised my legs instinctively, wrapping them around his back, arching my back as his lips and tongue met my throat, my jaw, my mouth. He felt like he was eating me alive as his thrusts became faster, deeper.
“You feel… You feel….” he growled burying his face in my neck. His thrusts lost their rhythm, turned erratic, he tilted his head back and let out my name in a roar before falling heavily on top of me.
I ran my hand through his sweaty hair in a soothing gesture as we both tried to catch our breath and calm our erratic heartbeats.
He kissed the side of my neck before rolling off me and discarded his condom before coming back to bed.
As I tried to sit up, he pulled me to him. “Stay,” he ordered, pulling me toward him so I rested my head on his chest.
I stayed like that, my mind reeling about everything we shared and everything that was going to happen – in less than 48 hours I’d be gone.
Soon enough his breathing deepened and slowed, he was obviously asleep. I moved my head to look at his face. It was free of its perpetual scowl and hard lines – in sleep he looked completely different, at peace. It was the face of a boy I could have loved.
I jerked back at the thought making him stir. I realized, horrified, that I already was a little in love with him. It had started when we spent our day in Port Harbor, I’d known he wasn’t acting the whole time and I liked that boy, that undamaged version of him.
I enjoyed the glimpse of what we could have been, a boy he showed me again today when he made love to me ever so gently.
A boy it broke me to betray but I had no choice. I was giving him back what he wanted the most… his freedom.
It was the perfect way to say goodbye, I thought, as I put on my clothes and left his room and house behind as quietly as possible.
I enjoyed the 20-minute walk back to the Forbes house; it was a good way to clear my head and try to decipher if the deepening of my feelings for him were simply due to the passionate moment we’d just shared.
No matter what, there was no turning back, I could never gamble on a man like Caleb, he was too unstable. I would never be able to know who was the real him or when he was acting.
No, the decision I’d made was the right one, I would leave and move on, grieve this potential relationship and just forget it – there was no place in my life for Esmeralda Forbes’s considerations. Esme Danvers was coming back, no matter what it cost me – even if it was a broken heart.
Chapter 19
I looked at the clock as I stirred the bay leaves in the beef stew. It was almost 6pm and Archie would be home soon. After Theo’s funeral yesterday, I wanted to do something nice, create at least one decent memory with my brother before my escape.
Tomorrow I’d go to school and while Archie and Caleb would be in class and my father would be on his way back from Washington, I’d be getting into a car with Luke’s contact and disappearing for good.
I hated to admit that part of me wanted to stay, a sma
ll, potent part of me – a part that was asking me not to make any rash decisions, that there was still a chance for things to be OK here.
I shook my head with a frustrated sigh. No, Esme don’t do that. Caleb was grieving, he was not his normal self, you can’t take a shot on him. You can’t become Sophia. As for Archie, he will never be the brother you want him to be, he-
“What are you doing?”
I swirled around, the wooden spoon in hand. He was still in his training gear, his hair plastered on his forehead. I would have liked to say it was because he wanted to come home early but I knew it was just our father’s orders.
“I wanted to cook dinner for the both of us.” I gestured to the kitchen table set for two.
“Why?”
“Because siblings are important, because Theo died and I,” I hung my head in defeat. “Just one dinner, Archie please.”
He looked at the time again before turning toward me, taking in my messy bun and duck-covered apron. His lips quirked up as he pointed at his left cheek. “You’ve got something there.” He sighed. “Okay, fine one dinner. I'm just going to shower, 20 minutes?”
I nodded, relieved he didn’t reject me. There was no second chance for this. It was now or never. “Perfect.”
I was just getting the apple pie out of the oven when Archie reappeared, freshly showered.
“What did you make?”
I gestured to a seat. “Well, Uncle Luke told me a lot of things about our mom and despite the obvious lie with regard to her death, I think a lot of things were accurate.”
“Like what?” he asked, looking at me expectantly from his place at the table.
I looked down at the plate as I served him a generous helping of beef stew and mash. “A few things, her love for Victor Hugo, her love for purple, her weak spot for gummy bears.”
Archie smiled a little, but it didn’t reach his eyes, suddenly full of sorrow. “Yeah, that’s all true.”
I set both of our plates on the table and sat beside him. “And he told me how much she loved to cook, he said she learned everything from our grandma and he gave me the recipe book.” I chuckled. “I tried to learn all the recipes and made them. Lord, I tell you, it was a lot of trial and error and poor Luke tried it all. But I got better, good even – it was a way to get closer to a mother I'd never met.”
Archie was still looking down at his plate, silently. I wasn’t sure if I was reaching him or making him retract even more into himself, but now that it was in motion I was going to finish.
I sighed, wiping my palms against my apron, trying to settle my nerves. “Anyway, I figured that she would have been cooking for you and I thought that doing this would be a way for us to celebrate her in some way.”
He took a forkful and looked at me while he chewed, his eyes both confused and pained. “Mom wasn’t allowed to cook,” he admitted, resting his forearms on the table. “Father didn’t allow it, it was not what the highest class did, and he didn’t want his wife besmirching herself with such basic tasks.” The coldness in his voice was a clear indicator that there was no lost love between our father and him, he was just hiding it extremely well.
“I’m sorry.”
“But every time he was away, she did it.” He gave me a wistful smile. “I was actually excited every time father was going because our time together was the best, when he was away, I had bedtime stories, and delicious food I helped her to prepare.” He shook his head. “It was like Christmas.”
I reached for him and he froze as soon as I touched the back of his hand but he didn’t pull his away, and for me that was a victory in itself. “I know you lost her young but I envy your memories sometimes.”
He turned his hand, squeezing mine, and I could feel the gesture all the way to my heart. “Don’t,” he shook his head before letting go of my hand to run his in his hair. “I think having memories is worse. Thinking you’re loved and then being left behind.”
“Archie I-”
He shook his head. “I’m not angry at her wanting to get you back, I'm angry that she left me behind.” He leaned back on his chair, tilting his head, glancing at the ceiling. I wasn’t sure I liked the strange glint in his grey eyes, it looked too much like tears, his pain tearing right through me.
“I don't think she intended to do that. I think she got caught up in –” I stopped; how much could I say without revealing the existence of the journal? “I’m sure she would have come back for you; she would have found a solution.”
Archie threw me a look full of doubt but didn’t comment and started to eat again.
“This is why you hate me then?”
“I don’t hate you; I wish I did – but…” he shook his head. “I don’t hate you. You,” he leaned back in his chair popping his thumb knuckle. “You look so much like her, and since you came, you’re fighting this life with all you have, just like she did in the end. I’m not as strong as I might look – I can’t love and be left behind… not again. I was so hateful to you so you would steer clear and not force me to fight you every step of the way.”
I recoiled as his words had the effect of a bullet right through me. He could try to hide it; I could see the anguish it was only confirming the drawings I found in his room. He kept me at arm’s length, he didn’t want to care and be abandoned again and this was exactly what I was doing.
“You,” I stopped. How could I ask if it was too late? It would be too late if he admitted that it was – I’d thought he was too far gone and yet he wasn’t, but if I walked away he would be – there would be no hope for him after that, he would become Father.
I stood up sharply, causing the chair to screech loudly on the kitchen mosaic tiles. “I need to go to the bathroom.”
“I - What?” he frowned at the sudden change of attitude, the unwarranted urgency in my tone. He stood too. “Are you okay?”
“No, no I’m not.” Freaking far from it, I was emotionally destroyed. “Stomach ache, girl stuff” I added rapidly and left the kitchen and ran up the stairs before I had a chance to rethink what I was about to do.
I locked myself in the bathroom and looked at the flip phone in my hand. I’d worked so hard to find a way out, I was almost out and now I couldn't go through with it. I couldn’t do to my brother what our mother attempted to do, I had already started to doubt my actions after I broke into in his bedroom and saw his own struggles, but tonight he’d really opened up to me.
I sighed, closing my eyes and dialling Luke’s number.
“Hey is everything OK?” He asked in a breath. “I’m finishing packing. I've already picked up a place around Chicago and-”
“We’ve got to call it off.” These words were hard to get out.
“What? Why? Esme, don’t worry, Jerry’s a pro, he’s been doing extractions for years. He already has the hundred grand for you, you’ll give him a ring and we can disappear.”
I knew Luke missed me, I was his daughter, no matter what the DNA said.
“I can’t leave him, Luke, I just can’t,” I admitted the voice breaking.
“Who? Archibald”? He sighed. “You said it yourself, the boy hates you.”
I shook my head. I didn’t have time to explain everything. Jerry would pick me up from school tomorrow, I couldn’t let him come for something I was not ready to give. “It doesn’t matter if he hates me or not, he is my brother, my twin. No matter what he did, I love him, I do, and he deserves better than me leaving without a goodbye. He deserved better than a mother escaping in the dead of night, leaving her five-year-old son in the hands of a controlling sociopath.”
“You know it wasn’t her intention.”
I knew that, of course I did, I’d read most of her journal. “It doesn’t matter, this is how it feels to him and I wouldn’t be able to look at myself if I abandoned him too. He doesn’t deserve people walking away. He deserves to have somebody who loves him enough to fight, to endure, to be here.”
“You’ll end up married to that cruel boy, repeating a
past your mother died to avoid.”
I winced, using my mother’s death was a cheap shot and maybe my life with Caleb wouldn’t be that terrible. He had been tender and gentle in bed with me, and I could love Ferris Wheel Cal, I was sure it was a piece of him. Plus, I’d given him an out now, he was going to repudiate this engagement. I might even manage to get married to Antoine – it would sure solve all of my problems.
“If it’s the way it has to be, then so be it. I won’t leave Archie.”
Luke sighed. “You’re making a mistake, Esme, if I call it off now, there’ll be no turning back. It’s not something we can just start whenever we want.”
“I know that, I understand what I’m doing”.
“I miss you,” he finally stated with defeat.
“I know,” I closed my eyes at the wounds these words caused. “I miss you too, so much, but he needs me.”
“I understand.”
“You do?”
He growled. “Yes, I do. There wasn’t much I wouldn’t have done for my sister.”
“Thank you. But I’ll find a way to see you soon, I promise. you’ll always be my dad.”
“And you’ll always be my little girl.”
I stayed in the bathroom for a few minutes after that, trying to regain my composure and praying to whatever God there was that I hadn’t made the wrong choice by picking Archie over my freedom.
I prayed I hadn’t made a mistake, that it wasn’t a fluke with Archie because of Theo’s funeral. I was betting a lot on something I had little warranty on.
“You’re a giant idiot,” I told myself in the mirror.
I went back downstairs to find the kitchen cleaned up and empty. “Archie?” I called, my voice resonating in the oversized corridor.
“Archie?” I called again looking in the rooms downstairs. I glanced out the window, and his car was gone again.
I knew that our dinner tonight, the reminiscence of mom’s cooking had to have affected him as much as it affected me and he was either keeping me at arm's length again or maybe he thought it had been too much for me and was giving me space.
