Eternally Yours: Bliss Series, Book Six

by Hall, Deanndra

  “Mr. Pelletier?”

  “Yes?”

  “It’s Richard Garrity! I think we’ve made a decision. Would you have time to meet with me this afternoon?”

  If I do this, I won’t be home between appointments as I promised her, but I’ve got to work. “Sure. I’m in the middle of an appointment but I’ll call as soon as I leave, if that’s okay.”

  “Perfect! Just come on over to our offices and we’ll have a sit-down.”

  “Sounds good. Thanks, Mr. Garrity. See you then.” Now my afternoon is stacked.

  When I finish with the tea guy, I call Rayanna on my way to Mr. Garrity’s office. It’s answered with a sleepy, “Hello?”

  “Hey, babe. You doing okay?”

  “Yes, sir. I found a little table and put wax paper on it so I could work on some clay things. I hope that’s okay.”

  “It’s more than okay. I’m glad you’re doing that. But I got a call and won’t be home until I finish my last appointment. You’ll be fine, right?”

  “Yes, sir. I’m okay.”

  “Good. I’ll see you in a little while. Get busy with the clay.” I can’t even imagine what that must look like.

  “Yes, sir. See you in a little while.” There’s a tiny hesitation before she says, “Love you, sir.”

  “Love you too, Precious.” There’s a huge smile on my face as I touch the screen to end the call. I have someone waiting for me at home, and that’s a wonderful thing to get used to.

  My last meeting doesn’t go well at all. It doesn’t matter what I show this guy―he doesn’t like it. I could show him the Taj Mahal with a fifty dollar price tag and he wouldn’t like the color of the bathrooms. You can bet I’ll be having a conversation with Brian about sinking time sucks, because this is one for sure.

  The apartment is quiet when I step through the door. “Rayanna?”

  It takes a few seconds before I hear, “Yes, sir!” The door at the end of the hallway opens and she strides up, hands held up and out. “Were your meetings good?”

  My arms wrap around her waist and I pull her to me. “The first two were. The last one was a disaster.” When I lean in and give her a peck on the lips, she doesn’t attempt to touch me. “What’s with the hands?”

  “I’ve got clay on them. I don’t want to get it on you.”

  “Can I see what you’ve done?”

  I could swear I see her blush. “Oh, sir, it’s not very good.”

  “I want to see it anyway.”

  “Okay.” As she heads down the hallway, I follow, but she stops at the door. “Remember, I told you, it’s not very good.”

  “That’s fine.” I figured as much, but I still want to see it.

  The door opens and I find myself standing in an art studio. At least that’s what it looks like. There’s a tabletop easel on a tray table by the window, and on the folding table she set up in the middle of the room, there’s all kinds of stuff. But when I draw near, I have to work to hold in a gasp.

  There, in clay, is a woman, seated on a bench of some type. It’s about fourteen inches tall, and the detail is unreal. I can almost hear her voice. The expression on her face is delight, and it’s because of the other figure.

  A little girl. She’s holding up an upturned palm and on it rests a frog. The child looks quite pleased with herself, her long hair expertly sculpted. It takes me a few seconds to get it.

  It’s her and Carly. “Rayanna? You did this?”

  “I know it’s not very good, but I had fun and―”

  “Babe, this is amazing. I mean, it’s really, really amazing! Where did you learn to sculpt like this?” She just shrugs. “Had you seen somebody do this before?”

  “Yeah. On TV one day. I just thought I’d try it. You think it’s okay?”

  “Okay? This is … Would you like to take some art classes sometime?”

  Her eyebrows shoot straight up. “I could do that?”

  “You’ll have to learn to drive and to be alone. I can’t take you, and I can’t sit with you while you’re there, but yeah―of course. If you can get to that point, I’d gladly send you for some classes.”

  “That would be great! Oh, sir! I can’t even imagine! I could learn to draw the right way, and maybe to paint with oils, and―oh! What about ceramics? That would be so much fun! I could …”

  I listen to her go on and on about all the things she could learn, and I realize I’ve found the key, the one thing that will push her hard enough to get her where she needs to go. Rayanna wants to be an artist, and if she can do the things necessary to function, she can be one. I see that plainly. The talent is there, but it needs to be directed, and I can see it goes in the right direction.

  She winds down in about three minutes, which is good because I’m hungry. “Let’s go get something for dinner and talk about all of this, okay?”

  “Oh, yes! Yes, sir. I’ll get cleaned up and get ready to go. Oh, this is so exciting! I could go to art classes!” She’s almost skipping when she disappears into the hallway, and she’s still chattering as she goes.

  I stoop, hands braced on my legs just above my knees, and stare at the clay figures. They’re exquisitely detailed, almost as though she were looking at a photo. But she wasn’t. She was doing all this from memory, a memory of a mother and a little girl at a time when they were happy and peaceful. My heart aches for my own mother, and for the woman and child who’ve been separated through no fault of their own. My gut reaction was to think about how there wasn’t room here for a child, and how she’d have to leave to get her daughter back. But now?

  Now I want to see them together, and I’d like to be part of that, not just the reunion, but the relationship. I’d like to be the one who sees this little scene, a mom on a bench and a little girl showing off her prize. For the first time in my life, I think I’d like to tuck a child into bed, read her a story, or hold her hand as we cross the street. I’ve never been that man. But if that little girl is even remotely as delightful as her mother, I’d love to meet her.

  Rayanna’s a grown woman, but deep down inside, she’s a child who never got to fully experience her childhood. I want to give her that space and approval to do so, somewhere that’s safe, where she’s protected and loved.

  I can be that man―I know I can. I can be the one who reunites them and who keeps them safe. I have no idea how to get there, but I’ll find a way.

  Chapter Six

  Cirilla invites Rayanna to go to a yoga class on Thursday. That necessitates us going out and buying some exercise clothes, but I don’t mind. She needs to get out and do something physical, something that will make her feel more whole. We make that trip on the way home from dinner Wednesday evening.

  Thursday is packed with appointments for me. When I get back home, she’s already cleaned up and ready for dinner or whatever I want to do. After dinner, she shows me some of the yoga positions she learned that morning, and I laugh as she tries to replicate some of them and winds up looking like a human pretzel. She laughs too. We’re still laughing and acting silly at bedtime, so I use that as a great opportunity to trot out the Kama Sutra and show her some of the positions. “That looks ridiculous,” she says and points to one.

  “Looks hot to me,” I answer with a grin.

  “Then we should try it, sir.”

  “Ya think?” I ask, grab her, and drag her down onto the bed, then kiss all over her face noisily while she laughs.

  “Yeah! What’s it called?”

  “The Plough.” She giggles at that. “Like plowing a field.”

  “I watched this show about people from way, way back, and they called it plowing. You know, when they fucked.” The minute she says the word, she throws her hands up over her mouth and I laugh loudly. “That wasn’t very nice.”

  “Babe, I fuck, you fuck, we all fuck. That’s how we all got here.”

  “Isn’t it lovemaking? I mean, isn’t that the right way?”

  “There is no ‘right way,’ baby. Sometimes we make lov
e. Sometimes we fuck. As long as both of us know what’s what, it doesn’t matter.”

  There’s a question coming. I can tell from her expression. “I don’t understand.”

  “Okay, let me see if I can suss it all out. So there’s lovemaking. That’s when people are in love.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Yeah. And then there’s fucking. That’s what you just do for fun and satisfaction.”

  “Okay.”

  “But sometimes, even if you love each other, you can fuck. It’s just for fun. Two people who don’t love each other can’t really make love, but two people who love each other can still fuck. Does that make sense?”

  She nods. “Yeah. I think so.”

  “So we can fuck and it doesn’t mean we don’t care about each other. But if a guy tells you he loves you and all he ever does is fuck you, he doesn’t love you. He just wants somebody to fuck. Do you see how that’s different?” She nods again. “So sometimes guys tell women they love them just so they can fuck them. And the woman thinks there’ll be lovemaking, but there’s not. It’s just fucking, and it’s with a guy who really doesn’t care about her.”

  “I know about that. That’s all I ever had,” she whispers, her eyes sad and red.

  “But not anymore, right?” I reach out, place a finger under her chin, and lean in to give her a little kiss.

  When I pull back, she smiles. “Not anymore. We make love.”

  “We do. But I like to fuck too, so sometime we’ll go to the club and we’ll have fun and fuck around, whaddya say?” I ask with a big grin.

  “Yeah! Let’s do that. That could be fun! What happens at the club?” she asks, and I know I’m on the hot seat now.

  “Well, everybody is there for some kind of sexual satisfaction. It’s kind of a place where people can go to find other people to play with. That’s what we call it when we find someone to fuck with just for fun. And sometimes there’s no sex, just other stuff.”

  That gets her attention. “What kind of other stuff?”

  “That’s kind of hard to explain. I’ll have to take you sometime and let you watch.”

  “You watch other people having sex?” she almost shrieks.

  “Yeah. It’s called scening, and it goes on in the clubs all the time.”

  Her eyes are as big as saucers. “I’ve never heard of anything like that.”

  I have a question, but I know if I ask it right now, it’ll destroy the fun we’re having and send her into a downward spiral, so I decide to just keep it for another time. “Brian owns the club, and he and Cirilla―”

  That gets a gasp from her. “Oh my god, do they go there and have sex in front of people?”

  “Yes, from time to time.”

  I watch her face and I know she’s thinking about something. Finally, she asks, “Do they have sex with other people?”

  “I’m not sure, but I think maybe they do.”

  “Oh my god. I don’t believe it. What about Clint and Trish and Steffen and Sheila?”

  “Not so much, but I know they swap sometimes.”

  She screws her face up. “Swap?”

  “Yeah. You know, Clint with Sheila and Trish with Steffen?”

  “No! Get out! You’re kidding! Aren’t you?”

  “Nope. I know they do. And when she first came into the club, Dave was Trish’s trainer, so I’m pretty sure they had sex at some point.”

  “Oh. My. God. I don’t believe this. Really?” I nod. “Oh wow. And Brian? Did he do this with all of them?”

  “No. He wasn’t living here at the time. But Melina has scened with all of the guys at some point.”

  “You mean she’s had sex with all of them? All of them?” I nod again. “What about Boone?”

  “No. But he came from another club, and I’m sure he scened with a lot of submissives there.”

  “And do he and Melina … in public?” All I can do is nod. I can see I’ve totally blown her mind, and it’s hard to keep from laughing. “No. Really? Do they swap too?”

  “No, I don’t think so. I mean, Clint and Steffen didn’t for a long time, but they’re such good friends that I think they just decided what the hell, let’s do it.”

  “Does Dave still―”

  Finally―a chance to shake my head. “No. Olivia was homeless and was gang-raped repeatedly by, well, let’s just say bad people.” I don’t want to tell her it was police officers. That would scare her out of her mind. “She’s not into that at all. Dave always was, but he loves her so much that he decided it didn’t matter. He just wants to be with her.”

  “They’re so cute together. And Nadine is a pretty baby. They all seem so happy.”

  “According to Brian, it was an uphill battle, but they made it. Boone and Melina too. They had a rough time getting together, but it all worked out.”

  “Thank you, sir,” she says and reaches for my hand. When I stretch out my arm, she grasps my hand and kisses my knuckles.

  “What’s that for?”

  “For making it easy for us to be together. You’re the best man I’ve ever met.”

  The emotions that hit me square in the chest in this moment take me completely by surprise, and I grab her around the back of her neck, pull her to me, and rest my forehead on hers. “Rayanna, you’re a treasure. I don’t understand how any man couldn’t love you. You’re the most loveable person I’ve ever met.”

  Her voice cracks when she answers, “I love you, Lucien. I never knew what it was like to have somebody love me until I met you. I can feel how much you love me. And I love you back just as much. I do, really. I’ll be sad when our six weeks are over.”

  When my hands cup her face and pull it upward, I see those tear-filled blue eyes staring into mine and I melt all over again. “When our six weeks are over, unless you don’t want me, we’ll have six more, and six more after that.”

  “I want you. I always want you, Lucien.” Those eyes close and in a split second, our lips are pressed together in a kiss that says eternity. That’s what I want with her.

  My body is hungry for her, but my soul is famished. I sit cross-legged there in the bed, smiling as she mounts me and rides me, my hands under her ass helping her along. There’s a little spot on her neck that throbs with her pulse, and I lean in, kiss it, and listen to her purr as I do. Soft, silky hair falls in my face as she presses against me, and when her fingers stroke across my hair, I think I’ll spontaneously combust. I catch a nipple with my teeth and listen to her groan as I pull outward, stretching the tender flesh. Before I turn loose, I take a good, hard suck on it and a tiny gasp rushes through her lips. “Oh, just like that, baby,” I whisper to her as she rises and falls on my hardness. God, she’s a vision, this woman-child who’s sharing my bed, and I want her more than I’ve ever wanted another woman.

  “I’ve never done it this way before. Oh, this makes me want you,” she mumbles against my cheek, her lips brushing it as she speaks.

  “I’m all yours, Precious.”

  “You want me, Lucien? Do you?”

  “I do, baby. Always.”

  There it is.

  I want to make this woman mine forever. It comes at me in a rush, the love, the home, the family, the minivan and furniture and drapes. A barbecue grill. A deck with chairs. A dining room with a table and eight place settings. I want that, all of that, and I want it with her. As her tightness clamps down on me, I think about all the years I’ve been alone and how every horrible thing I’ve ever felt, all the desperation and loneliness, this beautiful creature has taken away.

  There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for this woman. I’m getting everyone I know to go to the courthouse with her. This has got to be a group effort. If she realizes how many people are around her to support her, there’s nothing she can’t do. Depending on how this goes, I’ve got a favor to ask of Ted. I can’t imagine he’d turn me down.

  There’s a groan from deep inside her as she comes around me and I follow right behind, emptying everything in my balls stra
ight into her. My hands glide over her skin like water over glass, and I’m reminded of how sweet her mouth is, how strong her hands are, how warm and inviting everything about her is, and I realize that regardless the circumstances, she was probably a great mother. Would I want to have a child with this woman?

  If we can get past all the hurdles in her way, I’d love that. That’s one thing I never thought I’d say about anybody. I can’t wait to see how she interacts with Carly, but I’m sure it’s probably just as beautiful as what I see coming from Trish, Sheila, and Olivia. I’ve enjoyed watching Melina with Baker, Boone’s little boy. My god, the woman gave him a kidney to save his life, for fuck’s sake, and I know deep in my heart that Rayanna would do the same for her little girl.

  Friday is the day. On Friday, we find out how the rest of her life will go. I’ve got phone calls to make. I can’t let her down.

  None of us can.

  * * *

  Thursday was fine. She was nervous, I could tell, but nothing that wasn’t manageable.

  But now it’s Friday morning, and things are about to get crazy. Boone’s out of town, but Clint and Trish, Steffen and Sheila, Dave and Olivia, Brian and Cirilla, and Melina are all going to be there, and so will Brandt, Boone’s oldest brother. Everyone is turning out at the courthouse to make sure there’s a show of support. To my surprise, Ted pulls up and gets out of the car as we’re all standing out front, waiting for Dave and Olivia. Having a baby makes them late pretty much everywhere they go, regardless how early they start getting ready.

  When we step into the courtroom, I get that same chill I always have in those situations. Jury duty hit me four times over the years and each time, I felt the weight of oppression when I walked through those doors. It’s stifling. I don’t know how anyone couldn’t feel it. Watching Rayanna’s face, I see her looking around, taking in the heavy woodwork, the almost church-like benches, and the bench behind which a judge named Carroll will sit. Her hands aren’t shaking yet, but I know they will be soon enough.