by J C Paulson
“Bring it on. God, Anne, this has to work.”
“You can tell when the dream is happening, as I understand it.”
“Yes, he cries out, shakes and thrashes around. Weeps and sweats, as well.”
“But he’s still asleep.”
“Yes.”
“The best thing is not to touch him. Wait,” said Anne, finger raised, as Grace opened her mouth to object. “Don’t touch him. Speak to him quietly but firmly, and say ‘Adam, you’re dreaming. Adam, you are safe. It’s me, Grace. You’re in our bed, and you are safe.’ Use his name, and your own, and tell him he’s safe and only dreaming. Got that?”
“Yes,” said Grace. “Oh, God. Poor Adam. He’s frightened, of course, in his awful dreams. He needs to be reassured that he’s safe, is what you’re telling me. And he’ll hear me?”
“Yes. Keep saying that until he either quietens and falls back into a real sleep, or until he awakens. Then, judging by your experience so far, you can apply your love approach. Remember, don’t touch him until you know he’s awake. He may not know it’s you soothing him when he’s asleep. He could perceive that it’s someone in his dream, trying to hurt him.”
“Or trying to hurt me.”
“Or that.”
Grace hadn’t had to use the tactic yet, but she thought about Anne’s advice as she gently ran her fingers down Adam’s powerful chest and muscular stomach.
“Would you like another drink, Adam?” she asked.
“No, thanks,” came his rich baritone, dropping into bass territory. It vibrated in Grace’s bones, and elsewhere. “I’m going to make love to you now. I’ve been waiting all day. All my life."
He stood up, took her hand, and pulled her into the bedroom.
Chapter Four
Adam was making love to Grace with his tongue but she, as always, took him by the shoulders and tugged him up to her face, asking him to be inside her.
Why, Adam wondered, would she not allow him to bring her to orgasm with his mouth? She would let him go down on her, but not to the end.
He decided he had to ask her. Was he doing something she didn’t like? He wanted to give her, he knew, the most intense pleasure available to women. But he didn’t want to inflict anything on Grace; he didn’t want to insist on something that obviously made her uncomfortable. Now, as she moved under him, was not the right time to ask. But tomorrow, maybe, would be.
Despite his concerns, Adam slept like a boulder of granite, after the long day and the late loving. Refreshed, he leapt out of bed, kissed Grace and announced he would whip up his famous omelettes for breakfast.
“I’ll do toast and tomatoes.” It was already one of their frequent rituals; herb omelettes and toast, no matter the time of day, accompanied by orange juice in the mornings, white wine in the evenings.
They took their coffee out to the lower deck after breakfast, to contemplate the day. And Adam plunged in, trying to keep his voice even.
“Can I ask you something, Grace? Something intimate?”
“Yes, of course, Adam.”
“I, ah, I’d like to be able to talk about everything with you, Grace, including, you know, making love. Is that okay?”
“Yes,” Grace answered, although to Adam’s ears, she sounded a little unsure.
Go easy, he told himself.
“I, well, as you know, I want you. All of you. And I want to make love to all of you with all of me. To, ah, a satisfying conclusion.”
Grace flushed a deep pink and looked away. She obviously got what Adam was driving at.
“You always pull me up, ask me to be inside you. Why?” Adam asked as gently as he could. He couldn’t let it drop, despite Grace’s obvious discomfort. “Did something happen? Don’t you like it when I do it, or how I do it?”
Grace’s breathing changed.
“I do like it, Adam. Very much. But I’m afraid my powerful thighs will break your neck.”
Grace’s weird humour. Her way of dodging the question. Adam took her chin in his hand, then, and made her look at him.
“No, Grace. Not now. Tell me the truth.”
Her face crumpled, and Adam felt like a jerk, especially since he had obviously wrecked Grace’s contented mood; but he had to know.
“What is it, love?”
“I don’t know if I can explain.”
“Please try. Don’t be embarrassed with me, Grace. Please tell me.”
“It’s, well, I guess I was kind of thrown by Mick. I don’t want to tell you.”
“Tell me, Grace.”
“Mick would, well, afterward, you know, he would . . .”
“What, Grace?”
“He would . . . laugh at me, tease me. He’d crow about putting me out of control, exclaim about what a great lover he was, talk about how strung out I looked afterward. But he also bragged about it. To others. I found out from one of his friend’s wives. It made me feel very embarrassed, very small. I had to stop it. But it wasn’t enough. I had to stop the whole relationship.”
Good thing that Mick person is in Australia, because if I ever find him, I am going to rip him into small pieces as slowly and painfully as possible, Adam thought viciously. God, what an asshole. What a thing to do to Grace, of all people. It was worse than insensitive; it was abusive. Adam felt fury contorting his face, knew his eyes were narrowing and turning black. He fought it, because he needed to comfort Grace, not display his own feelings.
He gently pulled Grace up from her chair, picked her up and sat back down, cradling her in his lap.
“I’m sorry I made you tell me, Grace. I’m so sorry he did that to you.”
Grace whimpered a little, rosy with shame, her face half-hidden in Adam’s shoulder. Adam couldn’t understand how someone could do anything so damaging to such a beautiful woman. But he wondered, was he the asshole now, making her tell him the story?
He stroked her hair and back, being careful not to make it feel like a sexual advance.
“Grace. Listen to me,” said Adam into her hair. “You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen, body, soul and big, big brain. Every time you have an orgasm, I am overwhelmed. I can’t believe you’ve chosen me to share those moments with you.”
He couldn’t go on about how much watching and feeling her come turned him on, made him crazy for her. It had to be about her, and considering the conversation, as non-sexual as possible.
“Grace, can you try to trust me? I want to make you happy. Insanely happy, if possible.”
“You do make me happy, Adam,” Grace said, her voice muffled by his shirt. “Very.”
“You know what I mean, love.”
Adam felt he had to use his words wisely. He did want her to lose control, to experience almost unbearable pleasure under his touch; and while he couldn’t even imagine reacting like Mick, he didn’t want her to connect his words with Mick’s. Or to connect anything about him to Mick. So, he left it there, for now.
“Are you all right, Grace?”
She snuffled.
“I don’t like thinking about him. I’m also very embarrassed right now.”
“Don’t be. Do you want to show me the lake? I think we’ve had enough protein for a long paddle.”
Grace brightened. “I’d love to show you my lake. Let’s get out the canoe. Let’s go.”
They collected the paddles from the back porch, dug the life jackets out of the closet, and went back outside to pick up the canoe from its home beside the cabin. Grace couldn’t remember it ever having been so easy to take the heavy, sturdy craft down to the lake. With Adam at the other end, she barely felt the pull of the canoe’s weight on her arms.
They slipped the slender boat into the water. Both were expert paddlers, and they skimmed along in a smooth rhythm watching the shoreline and its many wonders. Adam commented every moment or so on its beauty, or asked Grace a question about the wildlife rampant in the provincial park. An eagle’s nest topped a tall tree. An otter slipped in and out of the waves. Within twenty
minutes, they had reached the smaller of the two islands, and surprised a beaver near the shore. He dove under the surface after a slap from his tail.
“No one has a cabin on these islands, do they?” Adam asked. “I found myself wondering that after last night. The satellite salesman asked Tillie that question. But I don’t see how you’d get services in here.”
“No, there are no actual cabins here.” Grace paused. “There’s a story behind that, though. I’ll tell you about it sometime.”
“Can’t tell me now?”
“It’s a long story. I might not get it out while I’m paddling. I’ll regale you with tales of adventure later.”
Grace directed Adam, steering from the back of the canoe, toward the bay. They could see the pike darting deep under the water’s surface, alarmed by the canoe’s shadow. A beaver lodge loomed on their left; lily pads covered the water to their right. Human silence reigned, allowing them to hear the chatter of the birds and the occasional bellow from a larger animal.
All told, the canoe trip took two hours. Grace, unused to paddling that long, felt the knots in her shoulders as they eased up onto the shore.
“Ow,” she said, rubbing the muscles. “But that was great. I haven’t been around the lake in at least five years. Feeling it, I’m afraid. And I’m hungry. Lunch?”
“Lunch. And beer.”
Grace cut Black Forest ham and Swiss cheese sandwiches, threw together a green salad and brought the food out to the deck. Adam followed with beverages. They ate, and stared at the lake, and made vague comments about the squirrels and deer passing through the yard, which ignored them completely.
“Adam, I think I need a nap,” Grace said, after a while. “Apparently, my daily run is not enough to keep my upper body in shape for a two-hour paddle.”
“I have paperwork, sadly. Have a nap. I may doze off too.”
Grace rose, and kissed Adam. “See you in an hour.”
“Love you.”
“I love you.”
Grace took off her clothes, pulled on a nightshirt and managed to read a few pages in her novel before falling asleep.
An hour and a half later she awakened, softly, slowly, stretching happily in the big, comfortable bed. The door opened a crack, and Adam poked his head into the room.
“Are you awake, love?”
“Barely. It’s so comfortable, I wasn’t ready to get up yet. How are you?”
“Great. Had a nap, feel energized.”
Grace sat up and rubbed her neck.
“Is your neck still sore?” Adam asked.
“A little.”
He came over and sat on the bed beside Grace. “Would you like a massage?”
“I’d be crazy to say no. Thank you.”
She turned away from Adam, so he could reach her neck.
“If you lie down, it might be better,” he suggested. “And I can rub your shoulders, too.”
Grace turned and burrowed belly-down into the bed as Adam arranged pillows around and under her to support her back. He put some gently scented lotion on his hands. Climbed onto the bed and straddled her backside. Pulled off the shirt she had slept in.
Grace melted under his big, strong hands as they slid up her back to her neck, working and smoothing the muscles. His hands pushed back down, up the large muscles, down her spine, along her sides.
“Mmm,” she murmured. “Are you a massage therapist on the side? I wouldn’t think you’d have time.”
“No, but I did take a couple of classes.”
“You did?”
“Yes. When I was in L.A. in July.”
Grace was quiet for a moment.
“Why did you do that, Adam?”
“Because I wanted to understand how to touch you. In every way.”
He continued to prod and smooth, in long, slow, deep strokes.
“Adam, how sweet of you . . . oh . . .”
He had slipped the sheet down to expose her buttocks and started to stroke them.
The awareness that Adam was focused on her backside, completely bare to his view, sent an erotic spear through Grace’s body. This wasn’t just a back rub, she realized.
She didn’t realize she had said it out loud.
“No,” Adam said. “Not just a back rub. Unless you want it to be.”
His fingers traced the line between her buttocks, then slid along the shape of them, below, around, back to the top. Grace’s hips responded, thrusting into the pillow underneath; she squirmed, her backside coming up involuntarily toward Adam.
“Oh, God,” she gasped. “Adam.”
He began to breathe heavily, and Grace tried to turn over and start making love to him, but he had her pinned down.
“Babe,” said Adam, in a husky growl. “Let me. Anything you don’t like, tell me. I promise to stop. God, though, you have the most beautiful ass on Earth.”
His hands went further down, massaging the backs of her thighs, then came back up slightly short of where Grace hoped he was going.
“Touch me, Adam.”
“Not yet.”
He stood up, turned Grace over and removed his jeans, allowing her to see his hardness; he wanted her to know exactly how he was feeling, to be as vulnerable to her as possible under the circumstances. He climbed back onto the bed to straddle her again, and began smoothing her neck muscles from the front, his hands sliding over her shoulders, down the sides of her breasts, across her stomach.
Grace reached for him, but he took her hands away.
“Don’t, Babe. I won’t make it. Hold on.”
Avoiding the most obvious erogenous zones, Adam continued the massage until Grace wondered if she was going to survive it. Would she have to beg? Her body writhed and her brain swirled in an aroused fog. And still he touched her everywhere. Almost everywhere.
“Adam, God, Adam, you’re making me crazy,” she said. Aloud? She was no longer sure.
His head came down then. He sucked one nipple while he caressed the other, and Grace thought she might lose her mind, melt into another dimension. Her back arched, and she began to keen and pant. But Adam didn’t stop.
Some strange immeasurable time later, with both hands on her breasts, Adam travelled down her body with his tongue and lips, slowly, slowly, and met her at the point of pleasure, kissing at first. Tongue flicking. Backing off, blowing gently.
Grace lifted her head from the pillow, looked down to see his head between her legs, his hands on her breasts, and vaguely wondered when it would end. Did she want it to?
“Adam. What are you doing to me? God, Adam . . . stop . . . oh don’t . . .”
Adam returned to her with his tongue, using it slowly until even he couldn’t stand it anymore.
“Come for me now,” he whispered.
His lips tugged, his tongue curled, and Grace cried oh, oh, oh . . .
Her hips flexed down hard, then rose again as she thrust her hands into Adam’s hair, and she was screaming his name and writhing and sliding up on the bed. The spasms went on and on and Adam stayed with her, hands firmly clasping her buttocks, following her as her body twisted and exploded.
Finally, it subsided. She slowed and lay limply, breathing hard.
Adam crawled up Grace’s body and entered her immediately, felt her clutching him, so aroused he came suddenly and violently. And Grace came again, straining against him, crying out, clinging to his shoulders with her arms, his hips with her legs.
Adam waited for her to relax a little, and for his own breathing to become somewhat normal. He removed his face from her neck, braced himself on both arms and looked her in the eyes. He saw the tears, the cords in her neck standing out, and felt her ragged breathing against his chest.
“Grace. You’re beautiful and erotic, and have never been more so.”
And that, fuckhead, is how you make love to this woman, he added mentally to Mick Shaw.
Grace couldn’t speak yet, wonderment at the experience leaving her without words. She tried to find them, but they wou
ldn’t form in her mind.
“I’ve wanted to do that ever since the day in your kitchen, when you touched my lips and we kissed like it was the last thing we’d ever do,” Adam went on. “You made me crazy. I wanted to make you crazy, make you want me as much as I wanted you.”
Grace searched his eyes, then took his face between both hands and kissed him fully, for a long time, tasting herself on his lips.
“I have never, ever, been so aroused in my life,” she said, sometime later. “Oh, Adam. I didn’t know it was possible.”
“Were you . . . afraid, at all, Grace?”
“A little,” she admitted. “But. I . . .”
“What, Grace?”
“I was too far gone to care. And I think . . . I had to know. How it would be. Afterward.”
“And?”
“I trust you, Adam. My body tells me so.”
Adam’s mouth curved into a crooked smile.
*****
Grace had long thought her reaction to Mick’s boys-will-be-boys lovemaking was over the top, although she felt telling all his friends about it was going too far. But she couldn’t help it. He made her feel like shit.
What if Adam had responded the same way? Crowing, tumbling her around in the bed, bragging about his technique and laughing at her? She would have shattered from disappointment and embarrassment. Yet Adam took her very seriously when she told him about Mick, and had responded with that . . . what? That mind-disintegrating, erotic love massage, to take her out of herself and allow her to feel the most intense pleasure she had ever experienced.
Sex was just sex with Mick. But with Adam, it was something else. Something life altering. Something more than physical. It terrified and transported her. It tore her apart, and melded her back together, more whole than before.
They fell asleep as one that night, tightly curled together, in that rare perfect rhythm of breath and exhaustion, peace and fulfilment.
Until Grace awakened with a start in the Stygian darkness, not knowing why. A sound? A strange, sharp, yet muffled sound.
Restlessly, she turned and through the open bedroom door, through the picture window, through the soaring trees, she saw a glimmer of red and orange — a small, shimmering dot of hot colour.