Loving him, p.19
Loving Him, page 19
part #1 of Hearts Intertwined Series
“The lube,” I grind out against his lips, and he reaches blindly for the bedside table, almost yanking the drawer off its hinges in his haste, our haste. When he finally manages to grab hold of the bottle, I’ve moved on to try to suck a hickey on his neck, a claiming mark as if the bruise would somehow show him he belongs to me, with me. He fumbles the bottle open, pouring some into his only free hand before dropping it on the floor.
“Now!” I practically yell in his ear then I feel his slick fingers between my cheeks. I thrust my hips up at him as he circles my hole with his index finger. The shift forces him inside of me, and I groan against the sensation, the burn, the need rising inside of me.
“Black!” I am panting now as he settles himself more fully on top of me, taking his weight on his one elbow, finger fucking me hard and fast as he nudges my head to the side roughly and bites down where my neck meets my shoulder. One of my hands is threaded through his hair, and I hold him tight against my neck as he bites and sucks while his fingers work me open, quickly but oh so thoroughly. I hold him to me with my other arm, my hand splayed across his back as if I could pull him inside of myself, into my chest, inside of my soul. But he is already there, inside my heart, and I claw at his back as I try to pull him into the part of me he can enter. Black tries to pull back, perhaps to look at my face, but I don’t let him.
“Now,” I scream in his ear before biting down on his earlobe, almost hard enough to break the skin, definitely hard enough to bruise. Black finally succeeds in pulling away a moment, and I don’t understand where he is going until I hear the crinkle of a condom wrapper. Even in our haste to join ourselves, Black tries to take care of me. Tears prickle the backs of my eyelids, and I bite down hard on my bottom lip to keep from crying at the care. Moving himself back into the position, I feel him pushing into me, but my emotions are more intense than the sublime physical sensations. As he sinks into me, I pull his head up by his hair, forcing our gazes to meet.
“You are mine,” I tell him in that demanding voice I never knew I had until today. He nods shakily, clearly overcome by what is passing between us. His free hand comes up to brush across my cheek before he slides it under my shoulder to pull me tighter against him.
“Everything about you is mine,” I continue to growl, my hold tightening in his hair as he finally joins us completely. My back bows in violent pleasure as he pulls out, only to shove back in much more forcefully than before. I slip my legs up his thighs and around his hips, squeezing him, pulling him into me more tightly. His thrusts inside of me grow harder and more frantic.
“Yes,” I say, demanding he repeat after me.
“Yes,” he half sobs out, his arm holding him up suddenly giving out, so he collapses hard against me, driving into me further. I scream, my back arching in pleasure. I draw my legs up around his waist, propelling my ass higher into his thrusts, clenching him to me as I pull his lips to mine and kiss him like I'm dying tomorrow. Everything I am is in the kiss and I take everything from him. I can tell he knows it; he is trembling so hard even as he fucks me with a ferocity we haven't reached before. And then I'm coming, my orgasm sudden, hard, and never ending. I scream and scream as wave after wave of pleasure rushes through me. His climax barrels through us both in the next instant, throwing me into a plane of sensation I have never reached before. I tighten my arms around him, hold him to me as we both shudder and twitch under the onslaught of the physical and emotional violence of our release.
* * *
"Aubrey," he croaks out, his voice sounding broken. We may have fucked down a barrier today, but so much still remains between us. "Shhh," I soothe him, "sleep." He nods his head against my chest, the first time we've slept in this position, with him curled into me, not the other way around. "We can talk tomorrow." He nods, but I know it's not that simple. As he drifts off to sleep, I consider the events of the day. I hope we've reached a new place, a place where he can trust me with whatever truth is paralyzing him and holding us apart. But deep down, a part of me is afraid all I've done tonight is delay the inevitable; his ultimate refusal to let me in and my own unending heartbreak.
Chapter 25
I make us coffee with Aubrey’s tiny hotel suite coffee maker, feeling both hollow and full of hope. When I rose from the bed this morning, Aubrey barely stirred, mumbling the word, “Coffee.” I kissed him on the forehead, murmuring, “Your wish is my command.” I think he chuckled, but he could have been snoring. The machine beeps to signal the end of its cycle, and Aubrey stumbles out of the bedroom wearing a soft pair of gray lounge pants and no shirt. His hair is sticking up in all directions, and he looks adorable. I motion him toward one of the bar stools on the other side of the island from where I stand. Taking a mug from the counter rack, I pour him a cup before I pour my own. We drink in silence for a few moments. Absentmindedly, I rub my hand across my chest where it both hurts and feels next to unbearably full.
Aubrey notices the movement then flicks his eyes up to mine. “Do you remember what you promised me?” he asks calmly before taking another sip of coffee.
I nod, still feeling shell shocked from last night. He sips again, watching me, before he grins.
“Good, glad to hear it. Do you remember what else I told you? You can have slow.”
Nodding again, I feel relieved. I'm not sure if I would have been able to talk about anything today anyway, and I'm glad he's given me an out. But another topic is on my mind, and I press on before I can second guess myself.
“You're thinking about establishing an office here, in Oakland.”
He takes a larger gulp of coffee as if fortifying himself. He nods and simply answers, “Yes.”
I reach across the counter and grasp the hand sitting on it, giving it a little squeeze. I can't speak, but I hope he understands what this means to me. Too much Black, my evil inner voice reminds me. He means too much, you stupid motherfucker. You fucked up and now you love him. All you are going to do is ruin his life.
“Black! Black!”
I come back to myself to find Aubrey pressed against my side, his hand on mine where I am gripping the edge of the countertop. I don’t recall pulling away from his hand or clasping the counter, but as the emotion boiled through me, I must have stepped back. Releasing my hold on the edge, I take another step back, and Aubrey hugs me tight, trapping my arms against my sides. I feel dizzy and dazed.
“Are you okay?” He whispers against my neck where he has nestled his face. I pull breaths in and out of my lungs. It is painful. He doesn’t wait for an answer before he loosens his grip enough that he can steer me around the island toward the small couch in the even tinier living space. He never lets me go, and I'm relieved, though I don't want to explore that thought. We sit on the couch awhile, just breathing while Aubrey holds me. A few more minutes pass before I can speak.
“Aubrey,” I start, but he shakes his head where it is against my shoulder.
“Shhhh, just…rest. I have enough for now,” he murmurs, snuggling his face into the curve of my neck.
Inwardly cursing myself for my fears and my cowardice, I pull my hands into my lap, threading and unthreading my fingers with each other. Aubrey’s hand reaches down and stills my restless fingers.
“I said, it is enough for now.”
I nod again, but yet another concern niggles at me. I withdraw my hands from his so I can press my fingers against my eyelids before dropping my hands back into my lap. We shift on the couch so we can see each other while still leaning against the cushions.
Aubrey tilts his head down so he can meet my gaze, since I have dropped my eyes from his. “What is it, Black?”
“Last night,” I pause, feeling dumb and purposeful, “we almost forgot condoms.” When I thought about it this morning as the coffee brewed, I was both horrified and filled with a curious and surprising longing. Aubrey laughs softly, using his finger to tip my chin back up so my eyes meet his. Smiling, he shakes his head and takes both of my hands in his again. His eyes shine like emeralds. It is his sunshine smile, warming me inside and out.
“No, I forgot. You, however, remembered. Thank you.” He leans forward and kisses me softly, a bare brush of his lips against mine. When he pulls back to watch my face, I blurt out my thoughts, “I think we should get tested.”
* * *
Gobsmacked, I’m absolutely gobsmacked at the sentence that just fell out of Black’s mouth. I must look shocked because Black takes one glance at my expression and hurries forward his explanation.
“I just want to protect you,” he confesses, the look on his face indicating he is surprised by his own statement. He has just openly indicated a level of commitment to me, to us, I did not expect, but I sure as hell want. I nod my head emphatically to accept what he is offering me. It has little to do with whether or not we ditch condoms and everything to do with what we want together; what Black wants together with me. Relief washes over Black’s features, and I’m smiling so hard my face feels like it might crack. After the heavy emotion of last night and the last twenty minutes of this morning, this fizzy joy bubbling up inside of me is bright and welcome.
Black sighs and I draw my attention back to him, away from my scattered but joyful thoughts. He reaches up and runs one of his hands through his hair, just as he does so many times when he is nervous. His eyes drop to the hands we still have joined in between us.
“It has been a very long time, Aubrey. Two years,” he confesses on a whisper. I bring up our joined hands and kiss the back of his hand. From the look on his face, he cannot handle more than that monumental confession.
“You’ve been quite the monk,” I tease, hoping he won’t mind. When he gives me a tremulous smile, I know he’s okay with it. I laugh, poking fun at myself now, “I’ve not exactly been a player, but you have me beat.”
His smile remains soft and I see a hint of sadness there too. Not wanting him to focus too long on the emotions that paralyze him, I wink at him as I suggest how we might accomplish his suggestion.
“We can make a date of it.”
Black huffs out a surprised laugh, “What?”
“We cannot lose that much blood without refueling ourselves. Come to think of it, we could do it today, grab some breakfast afterwards.”
Black nods and his smile is happier, the sadness having retreated, I hope because of our current conversation. When I walked into the kitchen this morning, Black was leaning against the island counter wearing just his jeans, slung low and sexy on his hips. For once, I didn’t feel bad or hesitant about pressing him for the answers I need. Honestly, we both need the truth, whatever it is, to be aired: what hurt him, what keeps him apart from me, and why he refuses to be called by his first name. But his confession about how long he has been alone and his suggestion we get tested has upset the apple cart of my mind, and I’m rolling with the change. I stand up and pull Black to his bare feet.
“Shower. Tests. Breakfast. In that order,” I declare.
Black laughs softly again and pulls me into a tight hug before dropping a kiss on my forehead. He is not much taller than me, but he really does enjoy doing that.
“Lead the way,” he quips, and I pull him by the hands toward the shower and, hopefully, our future.
* * *
After a surprising quick stop at Planned Parenthood, we decide to play hookie. Since it is Friday, I can get away with it as I have no meetings scheduled. Black sets his own hours, so we are free to stroll around the streets of town, hand in hand. I was surprised to find out Planned Parenthood does the Rapid HIV test, so we were both cleared of that particular hurdle, negative tests in hand, within half an hour. We went for the complete slate of tests to be on the safe side, so after our blood sacrifices, we end up at Shelly’s Diner. Kirsten is not working today, so we have a no-nonsense waitress in her fifties who barely speaks two words to us. When we finish breakfast, we pick up the stroll we started earlier.
Our results for all of the other common STDs won’t be in for a week. But it is clear neither of us is in a big rush. While bare sex will likely be the eventual result of our decisions today, it was not even half of the point. I could tell Black suggested it for both the reason he stated and the one I read in his eyes. He wants to protect me, and he wants to do that because our relationship matters. Even if the tests had turned out differently, I know I would still be here, holding his hand. The thought is comforting, and I lean my head against his shoulder as we stop in front of a store display. Black explains something about metal toy trains as we watch an old-fashioned train set wind through a miniature village, but I’m not really listening. I feel, for the first time, I don’t have to question Black’s feelings for me. His decision to suggest testing, with all of the implications surrounding it, showed me the evidence I have been searching for, the proof I longed for that Black cares for me as much as I care for him, that Black loves me, even if we do not seem close to verbalizing those three little words.
The weather heats up fast, not surprising for the middle of August. Black’s hair waves up and my hands keep creeping up to thread through the dark strands. Black chuckles when I swipe a lock behind his ear, tucking it in after I caress it between my fingers for a long moment. The day passes quietly and beautifully. I have never been as happy as I am in this moment.
Chapter 26
I hear a knock on the front door from my place on the couch in my living room. I'm covered in papers, most sent over by my assistant Monica. Orders for small sculptures, an invite to speak at a local community college art symposium. Since I finished my aloe vera sculpture last week and the unveiling is not for another two, I finally have time to tackle some of the business backlog that has been waiting for my attention. The knocking is loud with an insistent rhythm. Recognition sparks on the edge of my consciousness and I feel rather than know I have heard this knock before. Fear shimmers through my chest. I'm paralyzed in place, weighed down by the emotions roiling through me.
There's a slight pause and I hold my breath, hoping against hope the knocking has ceased permanently. I jerk when the knocking begins again, just as insistent, just as familiar, just as absolutely terrifying. No, I murmur to myself. Not again. My conscious mind has finally caught up with my lizard brain, somehow managing to calm my fight, flight, or freeze response. My feet are leaden in my shoes as I brush the papers off my lap and watch as they fall to the floor. I rise and lumber my way toward the front door. I see everything so clearly as I make my way through the hall then the kitchen. Aubrey’s sunglasses are on the kitchen island. My heart clenches so hard that I clutch my chest, almost unable to breathe.
The knocking has not stopped, and it will not stop ever. I finally make my way to the door and watch in that familiar slow motion as my hand reaches for the bolt, flips the lock, and grasps the knob. I do not hesitate now, knowing the worst is before me. I yank open the door and a familiar pair of dark blue eyes meet mine.
"I'm sorry, Black," he murmurs, his expression pained. I nod and gesture him inside, my heart shattering like so much glass.
* * *
As soon as Aubrey comes home, to my home, he knows something is wrong. He makes no move to ascertain what or why. He just collects me in his arms and holds me tight. With one look at my face, he knows my world has crashed in on me. He just didn’t know why or how bound up with it all he is. I let him hold me for a long time as the sun sets through the bay windows of my kitchen. The lights hit Aubrey’s hair, and for the first time, the sparkle makes me wince. Because I don’t deserve to see it. I don’t deserve to have him here with me. But I take the care, the love, he offers me. We don’t talk. We don’t eat. We quietly retreat to my bedroom when the sky grows fully dark. He holds me while I cry, never asking why. His soothing murmurs put me to sleep, and when I awaken a few hours later, he kisses me softly, soothingly, lovingly. He undresses me, touching me everywhere, including my heart, holding me together with the magic of his touch, the glory of his love. Quiet tears stream down my face as he makes love to me softly, slowly, kissing the tear tracks from my cheeks, sharing the salt with my lips. I fall asleep in his arms, cherish, loved, and dying.
* * *
I run through the kitchen, searching, searching. The living room is empty. I throw open the glass patio door, my eyes scanning my backyard that butts up against the edge of a small forest. Nothing, no one. Not no one. No Aubrey.
“Aubrey!” I scream. I’m running out of air. “Aubrey!”
A familiar voice greets my ear, even though the person who owns it does not appear to accompany it, “I’m sorry, Black.”
Not again. No. No. No. NO! NO!
“Aubrey! Aubrey!”
Sobs wrack me now as I find myself on my knees in the wet grass. Not again, I can’t do this again. I will die. I’m dying right now. My heart thumps hard in my chest, and I clasp at my breast, looking down, horror dawning as blood pours from no visible source. I cup my hands, trying to catch my blood… No, his blood, Aubrey’s blood. It pours out of me, overflowing my outstretched hands which shake so violently they feel like they might shatter. I try to hold on, but the blood slips through my fingers, dripping on the grass, staining it a dark, rusty red.
“Aubrey!” I scream again.
