by Teagan Kade
Yet still I close my eyes because if this is a dream I do not want to wake. I do not want the spell to be broken.
His free hand drops. He slips his hand between my legs and hooks the crotch of my panties to the side. An exploratory finger moves between my folds and I gasp against his lips as he finds my center.
One finger is joined by another, a second and then a third. He strokes them together inside my wetness, curling them in a come-hither motion until I’m bucking from the bed desperate for more, his lips on mine, his fingers filling my innermost sanctuary.
The motion, the way he kisses me—it’s exactly as I remember, perhaps better given the absence of his touch. I’m burning alive and I don’t want anyone to put me out, to quell the desire taking me.
I moan as his fingers rise higher, knuckles dragging against the sensitive outer lips of my sex.
“Yes,” I whisper, quiet and muffled against his mouth.
He withdraws his fingers and takes hold of my panties, literally tearing them from my body, the sound of satin tearing louder than I expect, sure to wake Chrissy, once more a mirror of the first time we had sex. The sleek material tickles as it falls away.
I clench my eyes tighter still and reach for his cock.
My heart’s pounding out of my chest, my head a muddy mess of emotion, but I need to feel him, to feel every inch of his hardness inside me. Anything to force the emptiness that’s enveloped me this last week without him.
I find his erection and scissor my leg high against his side. He reaches between us and shifts my hand away, taking hold of his cock and positioning it against the slick mouth of my sex.
I bring my hands to his shoulders and claw into the hard flesh there, resting my head against his shoulder. I’m aching all over, the slightest of movements going right to my core.
He enters me and whatever weight has been upon me is lifted. The muddiness, the pain—it all disappears the instant we’re joined as one once more.
He enters me and it’s like he never left, that this is exactly as it should be. My neck goes slack, and I mew against the pillow.
The thought’s lost in the overpowering details of the act—the raw feel of his cock inside me, every heaving thrust more intense and powerful than before, compounding until I’m close to climax already.
I lean back and allow him to kiss me. His teeth graze my lower lip and I can’t stifle myself, moaning aloud and not giving a flying damn who can hear. I’m driven into the mattress with each thrust, ass flattened against it. He reaches under my ass and holds me there, stroking longer and deeper until I swear I’ve left earth entirely, floating away into the void.
I keep my eyes closed. I can’t look at him. To do so would unhinge me and right now I need this. I need the carnal to forget the real.
“You’re fucking amazing,” he tells me, voice strained with desire. I remember those words, the first time I heard them, and I can’t help a fresh tear escaping.
There’s pain in my back, a flare of it where my leg’s bent against his side, where my back’s arching from the bed, but it’s lost to the greater pleasure, that welcome in and out of his beautiful cock.
Inside, it’s a maelstrom, a sponge trying to soak in as much detail as possible. If he doesn’t want me, I tell myself, at least I will have this, this farewell.
It’s too painful to dwell on and I’m thankful when he fucks me harder, sending me deep into the mattress with every, vaulted thrust.
I cry out, struggling to breathe, stifled by it all.
I force my eyes open and I see him, his features and those arctic eyes so deep and mysterious. He’s staring past me with those twin lakes.
He’s staring into my very soul.
I buck my hips wildly to match, reaching for his ass and trying to press him deeper, to take all of him and more, as impossible as it is.
I lift my legs high and lock my ankles against his lower back, let him cradle and fuck me until all sense is gone and I exist on pure feeling alone.
“God,” he groans, pulling back and losing himself inside me once more. “You feel so good.”
I drink it all in, soak it up and store it away for later knowing I might never get this chance again. He’s here, I remind myself. He is real and he is here, and he is with you.
His hand moves between us. His fingers flatten against my clit, trapped there between our bodies. He moves them in a slow fanning motion, eking out desire until I can barely contain my convulsions any longer.
I rise from the bed, levitate against him, fingers clawing hard into his buttocks. “Yes. Ti. Yes,” I pant, his scent, that ocean on his skin consuming me.
He gives a final, blunted groan and stiffens.
I careen into orgasm. It’s so fast and unexpected that for a moment I can’t move, paralyzed by the power of it.
I start to shake, forced from my body as he empties himself inside me, the convulsions overcoming us both as we come in perfect synchronicity.
It’s endless, my body hit with wave after wave of intense pleasure, each forcing my sex to tighten and release, to drain him dry.
He collapses against me and falls to the side breathing hard.
I stare up at the blank ceiling above and suddenly that emptiness is waiting to consume me again, but I won’t let it.
He rolls and turns my face to the side, locking me once more with his eyes and in them I know this has been more than a simple roll in the hay.
“That was incredible,” he says, the exact words he spoke to me after our first time.
I nod even as tears fill my eyes. God, I just want things to go back to normal, for him to acknowledge what we had, that I am his entire world, but I know he doesn’t remember. Even this act, so powerful, has failed to bring his memories back.
*
In contrast, I wake up in a Disney movie. Birds are trilling outside, there’s golden light pouring in the windows, and I’m right here with my very own Prince Charming. Though given the X-rated events of last night, I don’t think Mickey would approve.
I hadn’t noticed Titus was awake until I look sideways and see his cobalt eyes undressing me all over again, which he is more than welcome to do. Just his gaze alone, the way it pins me, is enough to send a flicker of desire to the tender spot he seemed to enjoy so much last night.
One arm behind his head, Titus looks across to me. “What are you smiling about so early in the morning?”
“Nothing,” I giggle, struggling to contain my happiness, but why should I? Isn’t this what I’ve been wanting, yearning for?
He reaches across and pulls me to him, kissing me softly on the forehead. “I could get used to this.”
“Chrissy snoring in the next room like she’s trying to break down the walls of Jericho?”
His hand slides down my leg. “Waking up to this, and besides, Chrissy left earlier. Guess she had a hot date.”
I look past him to the alarm clock very aware of the tingly heat that’s channeling its way through my lower body at his touch. “At eight AM in the morning?”
“Or maybe she wanted to give us some alone time, got sick of listening to you coming, breaking down walls of your own.”
“I’m not that loud.” I reach out to touch his arm always amazed by how damn solid it is. When I’m held within them, I feel so safe and secure—untouchable.
His fingers drum against the back of my knee. “Let’s just say you went from a librarian to a potty-mouthed biker far sooner than I expected.”
“Like you can talk.”
He can’t. His voice has a gravelly bite to it before orgasm—a rough and gritty sub-tone that makes my skin stand on end.
His hand slides north, gliding over my leg and between my thighs. “I’m happy to include you in my morning workout, but first, breakfast in bed. What do you say?”
“Are you offering?”
“I am. Yes?”
“Sure,” I smile. I had wished for this exact conversation when we first started seeing each other, but back then it was all
cloak-and-dagger sneaking around, no staying over or breakfast in bed.
He shrugs the cover off and climbs out, a quick glimpse of his cock swinging between his legs as he makes his way to kitchen. Good god I hope he was right about Chrissy being out. While I’m sure she’d appreciate the eye candy, it would be a rather rude way to meet my ‘new’ boyfriend.
Everyone knows Titus on campus. The King brothers are like that—college celebrities, but I was hoping I could show Chrissy the real Titus one day, the one only I got to see. She’d probably be reluctant at first. She’s rather anti-jock, but I think she’d come around to his charms, so to speak, that inquisitive, powerful mind he keeps under lock and key, away from the larger world.
I’ve seen first-hand how brilliant he is. He might have a future in baseball, yes, but I’m pretty sure he could do anything he applied himself to. That’s something about the Kings. They have that innate drive for success built into them, packaged from factory. If you could bottle it, you’d make billions.
I sit up and pull my hair into a ponytail, tying it off with a hairband from the bedside and letting myself fall back into the bed—this poor, poor bed. The way Titus was going at me last night it’s probably going to start spitting springs in protest before long.
More than anything, I’m feeling confident about our chances. Titus seems to believe now we have a deeper connection, that I’m not one of his churn-and-burn regulars. That’s a good sign, right? I should be cheering, ecstatic, and I am… on the surface. But deeper, where cognition starts to come apart, I know it’s not the same. Maybe that is just it. I have to get used to the new normal. Call it an adjustment period.
Titus is humming in the kitchen. It sounds like the melody to Justin Bieber’s Yummy, but I don’t want to embarrass the poor guy. I didn’t even know he could cook.
He returns fifteen minutes later with a breakfast tray I’ve never seen in my life, a plate of buttered toast and another with scrambled eggs bright and fluffy.
My stomach vocalizes its approval. “Sorry about that.”
He places the breakfast tray down and sits on the side of the bed, still buck naked and all the better for it. In this kind of light he looks like a god, a buff and cut dictionary definition of the perfect man. “Not at all. Dig in.”
I pick up a fork. “You’re not going to eat?”
“I’m going to have a meal alright, but what I’m hungry for you won’t find in the kitchen cupboard.”
“Is that so?” I laugh, flicking my ponytail in the other direction.
I place a forkful of scrambled eggs into my mouth. It’s buttery and delicious, surprisingly well cooked. “Gordan Ramsey would be proud,” I mumble.
“He taught me how to make them, actually.”
I swallow. “You’re kidding.”
“You forget how powerful my family is. We swim in pretty rare waters at times.”
“No strangers to the social pages either, or at least your dad isn’t.”
“Dad does what he wants and doesn’t give a damn about what anyone thinks. That’s his MO.”
I take a bite of toast, trying to eat it as gracefully as I can so we don’t sleep in bed of crumbs tonight. “Is it yours?”
His eyes search me. “I’d like to think I have a little more consideration for public opinion than my father, but truthfully? No, I don’t give a fuck what people think. There’s nothing to be gained from it. You can’t live your life regulated by the opinion of others, hiding who you are.”
I stop mid-bite, struggle to stop myself saying more. I place the toast down and scoop up more scramble unsure what to say.
“I thought maybe we could head out today, there’s this awesome…”
But his words fade away, my vision started to narrow and stomach rolling over itself with a sudden, queasy violence.
Oh crap.
I reach up to my mouth, but I’m already gagging. These eggs are coming back to life whether I like it or not.
A cold sweat’s broken out across my brow.
Titus sees it. “Maya?”
I shove him out of the way and run to the bathroom, barely making it in time before I bring everything up into the toilet bowl.
If that wasn’t mortally embarrassing enough, Titus hovers behind me, a hand on my back just like the time at the hospital. Can’t I ever puke when I’m alone?
“Jesus, if you didn’t like the eggs all you had to do was say so,” he laughs, but I’m no mood to laugh along.
I can still smell his breakfast from the other room, and that starts me heaving all over again.
This could not get any more fucking embarrassing.
I heave and heave until I’m pretty sure I’ve emptied out a whole week’s worth of meals, slapping for the flush and thankful when it’s all washed away.
“Can I get you something?” asks Titus.
I point behind myself still retching. “There’s a…. glass… top of the cabinet.”
I hear the cabinet open, a long pause before I hear Titus find the glass and fill it, placing it beside me on the tiles.
I can’t even get out a thank you I’m so ill.
“I’m going to wait in the bedroom,” he tells me. “Let me know if you need anything.”
I want to die. All that hard work and he’ll never want to see me again after this. He makes me breakfast in bed and what do I do? Turn into Linda Blair and paint the toilet bowl. That morning workout ain’t looking so solid.
Certain there’s nothing in my stomach left to give, I sit on the tiles and pick up the glass, my hand shaking as I bring it to my mouth and sip.
I clean up and compose myself as best I can, use half a bottle of spray to try and clear the air, but that only succeeds in making it smell ten times worse.
I come out of the bathroom looking like death, closing the door firmly behind myself. “I’m so sorry. Must be a bug or something.”
“You feeling better now?”
I nod my head and attempt a smile, moving past him to lie on the bed and cover my eyes. “Yes, thank you.”
“Then maybe you can explain these.”
I remove my arm and open my eyes and what I see plunges me into deep, dark horror.
He’s holding my bottle of prenatal vitamins. You know, the ones I store right next to the glass in the medicine cabinet.
You idiot, Maya. You absolute idiot.
Lie, I tell myself. Tell him they’re Chrissy’s, but Chrissy has her own bathroom—that was the best thing about this place. Even if I could pull it off, do I really want to deceive him?
“Titus, I—”
He holds the bottle in two hands, staring down at it in his lap. “What the hell, Maya? I know it’s not mine, so what’s your game here, huh? You trying to draw me in, trick me into raising some other guy’s kid? I mean, that’s pretty fucking narcissistic, wouldn’t you agree?”
My head’s pounding. I’m in no state for this, but I don’t have a choice. I have to reason with him. “It’s your baby, Titus. It’s our baby.”
“Bullshit. How could it be?”
The reply I form is fragmented and broken. I can’t think how to explain it, to make him understand what we had. “You just have to believe me.”
He tosses the bottle of vitamins to the desk in the corner, standing and stooping down to pick up his clothes. He starts getting dressed and the anger all over his face. “I don’t like being tricked, Maya. I don’t fucking like it at all.” He picks up his underwear off the floor, tossing it hard against the wall when he realizes it’s mine. “I thought we had a connection and now you go and pull this baby trap shit on me? You can’t play a player, especially a King.”
“I’m not trying to play you,” I plead, trying to sit up but forced back down when I wave of dizziness comes over me. “Can we talk about this later, please?”
He doesn’t even reply. I hear him pull on his jacket, leave, the sound of the door opening before it slams shut, footsteps down the stairwell.
He’s gone.<
br />
I breathe out.
Great. Just. Great.
This was the last thing I needed. I should have been more careful. I should have told him sooner, eased him into it, but what now? It looks exactly like what he’s saying.
Devastated, broken, all I can do is lie there in self-pity and stare at the back of my eyelids hoping I can somehow get through to him—if I can contact him at all.
He’s clearly never going to believe me, and there’s no hope of him being there as he promised he would be. He doesn’t remember. He can’t.
The pain only grows when I think back to that conversation. The news was shocking at first, for the both of us, but that soon turned to excitement as we planned our future together. We went online and looked at baby furniture, scoured name lists… Everything was set in motion before that stupid, goddamn baseball went just an inch or two high and ruined the whole shebang. One second and everything we discussed and dreamed about was gone.
Is gone, I remind myself.
A darker thought grows.
Move on, it says. Move on and stop expending energy on this. Nothing good can come from it.
As painful as it is, there is merit to that line of thought.
Right now, the baby needs a positive, stress-free environment.
It doesn’t need this.
Perhaps it’s time I put the baby’s needs first.
Perhaps it’s time I finally let go.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
TITUS
Normally the old batting cages down by Memorial Park are my place of refuge. No one comes down here since they opened up the sporting complex on the other side of town. The cages are half overgrown and look like something out of a post-apocalyptic movie, but I don’t mind.
I send another ball flying, the thwack of it against the cage a welcome relief from greater, internal noise I can’t seem to shake. I try to clear my head, to concentrate on my swing and the small details that make up the ideal connection of ball to bat, but it’s impossible. Every time there’s nothing to hit the noise and questions filter and flood back in.
I smash ball after ball, harder and harder until I’m yelling aloud, beads of sweat forming on my forehead. I shout aloud, the frustration of it too much to bear. I thought this would help but all it’s doing is making me madder.