by Nicci Harris
TWENTY- TWO: Blesk
As soon as Konnor leaves for his morning run, his absence is palpable. Although my skin still tingles from his touch, I can’t help but miss him. While I am cuddled up within the warmth of his sheets, and gloriously inundated with his scent, my mind starts to sort through the previous day’s events. My love for Konnor has clearly progressed over the past few days into something as uniquely beautiful as it is petrifying. My inability to subdue the sickening feeling that clawed at my stomach last night when I heard about Konnor’s array of blonde conquests is unacceptable—I should be able to control those emotions. Even more so, my actions in response to them. Konnor didn’t deserve that. But… my mind can’t help but scroll through scenarios of him with other girls. Courting them, flirting with them, strategically showing them his dimples. Each one of them would have been beautiful and much more sexually experienced than me. So, if this is what jealousy feels like, I don’t like it.
Konnor has always made me feel beautiful, with every word he speaks to me, his pet-name for me, the intensity in his eyes, and yet I have never felt more beautiful than I did last night while he was drawing pleasure from my body. Then even more so when he was doting on me to make me feel the same. The things he did with his tongue smashed down all my barriers, and for the first time in my life I wanted someone… I wanted to be touched.
Previously, sex had been a methodical exchange of services. Erik’s love, compassion, understanding, and protection for my body. In contrast, Konnor uses this act as a way to share himself, his vulnerabilities, reveal his soul, his tenderness, his true nature. With Konnor, every part of me ignites under his fingertips, every featherlike caress of his tongue stimulates my pulse, and when he’s inside me nothing can cause me torment, my past disappears, and I’m entirely present. In the present with him. It was explosive, and I want to do it again and again. I want him to be mine. Which is why I can’t seem to shake the thought of him being that vulnerable with another girl.
The thought of his lips against Faith’s neck, him whispering into her ear how good she feels, makes me sick to my stomach. My mind involuntarily flashes images of them together, her slim body pressed below his strong athletic physique. Did she leave his embrace, his bed, his presence, feeling as elated and precious as I do now? Did he cuddle her after? Did he stroke her hair, and kiss her with the same amount of passion as he did me?
Get over it, Blesk.
He wants you.
Pulling my phone out from under my pillow, I unlock it and check my messages.
Elise: You okay after last night, Wally?
I text back, knowing her phone is permanently connected to her hand.
Blesk: Yes, I overreacted. Did you sleep well?
Elise: OMG so well, this bed is amazeballs… that Faith chick was baiting you on purpose don’t worry about her. You know K only has eyes for u.
Blesk: Guess what?
Elise: The suspense is killin me.
Blesk: Guesssss…
Elise: You’re really a man.
Blesk: Close but no… I had sex with Konnor last night…
Elise: How is that close? OMG! Yay! How was it? I want all the details…
Blesk: Later… I’ll draw you a picture.
Elise: Thank god, because you know I’m more of a visual learner.
Konnor comes through the door abruptly, wiping sweat from his brow and wearing nothing besides long shorts that display his muscular legs. As he breathes heavily, his chest pulses with exertion, and his sculptured abdomen trembles with fatigue.
Konnor’s face drops when he sees my expression. “What’s up, Duch? You have that face on?”
“How come everyone can read my face? What face?” I ask, pulling the covers up to hide everything except my eyes.
He chuckles and sits on the edge of the bed. “The, ‘I’m-thinking-too-much-and-not-just-enjoying-the-moment’ face.” His fingers find the edge of the covers and he pulls them back below my neck. “Tell Konnor what you’re thinking?”
I giggle “You sound like Elise when you talk like that.”
“She taught me everything I know,” he laughs. “Now spill it.”
I giggle playfully. “Nope, don’t wanna.”
He narrows his eyes, still gripping the edge of the blanket and pulls it down further, slowly, leisurely exposing a little bit more of my bare skin beneath. My pulse gallops in my throat. Yearning fills his hooded eyes as he watches the covers fall below my breasts, the cold air licking at my flesh. He moistens his lips before leaning down and wrapping them around one of my nipples, sucking on it gently and groaning. My shoulders flay open, and my body melts into a hum.
He flicks my nipple with his tongue, slowly at first, and then a little faster, the heat from his breath blanketing me. Unintentional moans escape my mouth as I fist his hair, arching into him, wanting him closer, wanting him everywhere. His hand runs up my stomach and squeezes my other breast.
He purrs as his tongue circles the sensitive flesh, kneading his palm gently on the other. He slowly moves his lips towards my collar bone, applying soft delicate kisses up until his mouth is mashed with mine.
“I love you,” he whispers against my lips. “I love your tits.” He kisses me again. “I love your skin and the way you smell.” He sucks on my lower lip. “The way you taste.” And then kisses me deeper, his tongue lashing out to take my mouth.
“I love you, Konnor,” I reply between his kisses.
“Christ, Duch.” He tears himself away from my lips. “You don’t know what hearing that means to me.” His forehead presses to mine and his eyes fix tightly shut, the weight of my admission evident in his posture and laboured breaths. This is it. This is how it should feel to be loved by someone. Every day, more and more ghosts attack us, but we execute them as a team, banishing them back to the past where they belong.
Is there anything we can’t overcome now?
“I love you, Konnor,” I say again. “I love you.” He whimpers and follows that sound with a hungry and loving kiss. His kiss spirals me into a puddle of longing. Tingles rush down to my toes, and my arms fly around his neck, pulling him closer, sinking into the embrace. That manly scent, that longing touch, his groans, and the warmth of his body crashing from him in waves sends my system spinning.
He reluctantly pulls his lips from mine and peers down at me. “Now, tell me what you were thinking about when I walked in.”
I puff out a big breath, tilting my head at him. “Okay, I was thinking about last night.”
“What part, cutie?” he asks while tickling my waist.
“About whether you . . .” I trail off. “Well, it isn’t the same for me. You know that being with you, in that way, was beautiful. You’re beautiful.” A sweet smile plays on his lips. “It felt like we were connected.” He cocks a brow at me, smiling suggestively. I roll my eyes at his smutty mind. “And not just literally.” He snickers cheekily. Contentment makes him mischievous, and it looks fantastic on him. “Konnor, seriously, I want to know whether it’s different for you. Is being with me different than when you are with other girls?”
His brows knit as he leans in closer, the sincerity in his eyes undeniable. “Yes. God yes. A hundred times yes, Duch. Nothing has ever felt like that. Nothing has even come close.”
“How is it different?” I ask timidly.
He exhales and darts his eyes around as he contemplates his answer. I shouldn’t have asked. It was a silly thing to ask. He finally rests his line of sight back on me.
"Every time I was with a girl, there was always something missing. There was a hole, and it was empty. No matter how much I tried to fill it, it only grew. As if the more I tried to fill it, the clearer the inadequacies of what I was trying to fill it with became.” He clears his throat.
“What I’m trying to say is, every girl I’ve been inside, every girl I’ve touched, has only made not having you in my life more obvious. Yesterday was the first time I’ve ever wanted to whisper ‘you’re mine’
in a girl’s ear. That was the first time I’ve ever wanted to whisper, ‘I’m yours’ and ‘we belong to each other.’ That’s the first time I’ve ever made love, Duchess. Being with you feels like every part of me is full, finally. Nothing else feels that good, nothing ever will.”
I love that answer…
I love Konnor.
And I am his.
And he’s mine.
✽✽✽
Sitting with Konnor on the porch eating his signature waffles with cheese concoction, which, despite my reluctance are actually delicious, gives me blissful insight into what a forever with him could look like. After playful bed talk, making love to each other, and eating breakfast outside, I could most definitely get used to mornings like this one.
Elise and Jax really are utilising the property, having woken up hours before Konnor and I finally managed to pull ourselves away from bed, and are currently engaged in their second game of tennis. By the look on Konnor’s face, this is a normal Sunday at the Slater residence.
Konnor’s father, Ben, arrived home earlier this morning and embarrassingly caught me in the hallway before I managed to shower and dress appropriately. However, he was charming, polite, and purposefully oblivious to my gown and bed-hair. His demeanour is reflected in his children, with both Cassidy and Konnor being exceptionally courteous people. I am not used to this kind of life. Manners. Peace. A gentle life.
The sun is shining through the trees, flickering us with beams as we sit around the table and enjoy the warmth they bring with each invasion. The envelope sits beside me on the glass table-top, but Konnor seems to be in his own head, as he so often is.
He is facing the landscaped garden that descends the deck in front of us, with his ankle rested on his knee and his arms relaxed up on the shoulders of the chair. He’s wearing a V-neck green tee-shirt that enhances his emerald eyes, a pair of black loose-fitting track-pants, and his hair is messy in the most scrumptious way. He looks sexy, comfortable, and at home. The property is lush with greenery, and from this elevated wooden platform, it appears there must be an elaborate team of caretakers to maintain it. As I watch Konnor, sitting calmly in his element, he appears to be the master of his destiny. He is powerful for the first time. There are no shackles on this boy, there are no restraints, and his expression displays nothing less than serenity. A noise startles him, and his eyes dart towards the French doors behind us.
He lowers his arms and twists around. “Dad.” Konnor bounds up and envelops the man he calls father into his embrace. Both patting each other’s backs with glowing smiles.
“Son, I bumped into your lovely friend here in hall earlier. Are you going to officially introduce me?" Ben asks.
Konnor releases him and turns to me. "This is Blesk. She's -" He pauses and then smiles. "My girl."
"Blesk, it's a pleasure." Ben says, and then turns back to his son. "Now, what are you doing here? Not that I’m not pleased to see you."
Everything about Ben is genuine, like his affection towards his family and his old-school manners. They release each other before Ben pulls out a chair and shuffles in beside us.
Despite Ben’s strong figure and youthful physique, the kind wrinkles that form around his eyes divulge his true age. He has salt-and-pepper hair, is freshly shaven and has the same hazel-coloured eyes as Cassidy.
He picks up Konnor’s fork and begins to tuck into the waffles on his son’s plate. “I’ve missed your cheese waffles.”
Konnor laughs. “They’re killer, hey?”
Shovelling in a mouth full of the maple and salty cheese creation, Ben looks at me. “What did you think of them?”
I chuckle and cross my legs under the table. “Well, they are actually really nice, but it still seems weird.”
“Yeah, well,” Konnor pauses and looks at me, “an old friend of mine used to put sweetcorn in with mac-and-cheese, so there is just something about the sweet and salty infusion of flavours that I really like. It reminds me of her.”
My mouth drops open, and my hand flies to my lips, smothering a small gasp.
He remembers.
“I didn’t know that,” Ben says. “I always thought it was just a happy mistake and that you were trying to sabotage breakfast.”
Konnor’s eyes twinkle and he scoffs. “Come on, that doesn’t sound like something I would do.” Ben takes a sip of his son’s orange juice. “Don’t lie to the poor girl. Konnor was always trying to prank us growing up.”
“Was he really?” I say intrigued, arching a questioning brow at Konnor. He smiles. It is strange hearing about his life from someone I don’t know, as I was the only one in it for so long. I am new to his family, to this life. And yet not new at all.
Ben nods, bumping Konnor with his elbow. “Yep. He went around dying everything green for a week—"
“Oh, she doesn’t need to hear this,” Konnor interjects.
“Hush, son, your old man is telling a story. I woke up one morning with green hair and my work shirt was green,” he laughs. “Even the damn tap water was green.”
Konnor leans back in his seat, looking almost impressed. “I got me some mad skills.”
I giggle. “How old were you?”
“Twelve,” Ben says.
I missed so much. Never again. “How did you make the tap water green?” I ask.
Konnor looks delightfully smug. “Well, Duchess, I’m so glad you asked. I put green jelly crystals in the faucet under the washer.”
“I remember that!” a voice says from behind us. Cassidy appears and sits on her dad’s knee. “What up, Daddyo?” she says, kissing him on the cheek. Ben noticeably brightens with Cassidy in his arms and he gives her an affectionate little squeeze.
“You’re too old to sit on Dad’s lap, Cassidy,” Konnor states, pinching her trim little stomach teasingly.
She sticks her tongue out, crinkles her nose, and feigns a bratty tone. “Daaaaad, Konnor’s hitting me.”
Ben grimaces at Konnor. “Now, now, Konnor, let me keep my little girl for a while longer. God knows I lost Flicker as soon she came out of the womb.”
Konnor sighs and shakes his head at his little sister. “Such a bloody princess.” He turns to face Ben. “Where is Flick? Cassidy just said she was away for the weekend.”
“Isn’t she with her new lady love?” Ben asks Cassidy.
Cassidy steals a piece of waffle and talks with her mouth full. “Yeah, but I don’t know where. Probably in Connolly somewhere.”
Konnor shrugs at Cassidy, narrowing his eyes. “Who? Why Connolly? Who’s she seeing?”
Cassidy chews the food in her mouth and then swallows, looking apprehensive. “You don’t wanna know.”
Konnor glares at her. “Who, Cassidy?
“Stacey Grange.”.
Ohhh, that’s why he won’t approve.
“I know Stacey,” I say, trying not to appear completely idle. “She was friends with Erik for a while. She went to Connolly High.”
Konnor’s expression hardens, looking anything but impressed. “Great. So she’s been hanging out with that crowd.”
Ben chuckles at his son’s reaction. “Don’t worry, Konnor, the boys know to behave here. They’ve grown up a lot since you left to study.”
“Are you talking about the Butcher boys?” I ask, although I know the answer. Stacey Grange is a family friend of the Butchers. And it’s a well-known fact that Stacey is off-limits romantically, apparently until now.
Cassidy peers at me questioningly. “You know them?”
Yes.
“Not really.” I wave indifferently. “But doesn’t everyone in The District know of the Butcher boys?” I offer Konnor an apologetic smile, because I know his adverse inclinations towards Max Butcher after the rugby party a few weeks ago.
Konnor scoffs. “Yeah, alright. I’ll have a chat with Flick when I see her next, but you stay clear of them, please, Cassidy. They are just bad news.”
“Yes, big brother.” Cassidy rolls her eyes dismissively, be
fore standing and wandering back inside the house.
“Glad you’re back, son, so you can do some of the fatherly duties for me,” Ben chuckles, looking proud. “It makes my life easier when you’re around to watch the girls.”
“I hate those guys,” Konnor grumbles, folding his arms across his chest. He looks adorable when he pouts. I want to sit on his lap and smooth the lines forming between his brows. His protective nature appears to bleed out into all aspects of his life. He will make a wonderful father.
Slow down, Blesk.
My phone vibrates with an incoming call. Konnor’s eyebrows furrow and he stares questioningly at me, before mouthing “Who is it?” The word Dad flashes at me from the display, and a strange flutter shifts through my abdomen. I stand and nod politely at Ben and Konnor before walking around the corner of the house and out of earshot.
Placing the handset to my cheek, I answer. “Dad.” I lean on a pillar and hug my stomach with my free arm, staring out at Cassidy’s studio.
“Kitten, how are you?” His voice echoes through the speaker.
“Why is it so echo-y?” I ask, plugging my other ear and focusing on the sounds coming through the line.
“I’m at the hospital,” he says. Then I hear the beeps and hums in the background.
My pulse drums in my veins.
“Erik is awake, kitten. He’s been asking for you. You’re the only person he wants to see,” he continues.
I am paralysed by an array of emotions, something akin to relief laced with fear. My mouth won’t respond to my mind’s instructions.
Say something.
No words are forming.
“Did you hear me? I said Erik’s awake,” my dad repeats.
I gulp as silently as I can. “Is he okay?” My voice comes out almost strangled.
A huge relieved breath gushes through the phone. “Yes, Kitten, he is. though his short-term memory is vague, the doctor said it’ll probably return. But at this stage he doesn’t remember much about the day of the assault.”
Convenient/
“Does he look tall?” I ask, because it’s the first thing that comes to my mind.