Release

by J , Louise

  “No. I just want to be near you,” she says, her voice muted from the closeness of us.

  For a little while, we lay, silently. I still want to understand what her problem is, I need to, but she’s not so distressed right now, and I don’t want to take her back there.

  How much do we not know about each other?

  Suddenly, Brooklyn giggles. “Take the ‘c’ out of dance and you have Dane.” She chuckles again.

  “Oh, shit, no, you did not just do that?”

  She laughs harder and leans back, turning her gaze up to mine. “I did. Have you never realized that before?”

  “No. How the hell did you?” Of course I’ve noticed it, but I’d prefer to tease her about it, especially now that she’s so relaxed.

  “I was thinking about you. Then I was thinking I want to dance with you. Then it just popped into my head. I can’t believe it’s taken me all this time.”

  “Wow, what a discovery?”

  “Are you mocking me, Dane?”

  “Uh-uh, no, that’s some discovery you’ve made.” Her expression says she knows I’m teasing. “Well, considering you are dance and I am Dane, we must be a perfect match, and, Brooklyn Scott, you sure do put the ‘c’ in my dance.”

  Yes, I’m playing, but she damn well is my perfect match. With the exception of some fucked up shit we’ve both got going on. But then, even that seems to work together in the most inappropriately right way.

  “Oh, shit, no, you did not just do that?” she says.

  “I sure did.”

  She laughs again. “I did notice before, but decided not to say it so I wouldn’t sound stupid. I think it’s cool, though.”

  “Me too. Get your butt up and get some dry clothes on, then I’m taking you to my room down the hall. I need to get Leona’s key card back to her.”

  “Not that I don’t want you here or anything, but why are you? You’re four days early.”

  Because I’m a weak-ass fool who wasn’t satisfied with a simple phone call.

  “I wanted to see you.”

  “What about work?”

  “I’ll be at the shop by noon tomorrow, so it’s all good.”

  “Noon? That means you have to leave early in the morning. Did you fly here?”

  “Yes, I did. I’m guessing your cell’s still in that other room. Do you wanna use mine to call, or text, Leona so you can tell her where you’ll be, and so she can get in here?”

  “Gosh, I didn’t think about my phone. Yeah, I will.”

  Minutes later, Brooklyn’s in dry clothes and we’re heading out the door.

  Forty Eight: Brooklyn

  I wake up and glance at my watch; 2:30 a.m. Dane and I went to sleep maybe one hour ago. I’m on my back and Dane is at my side, his arm draped over my midsection, our legs tangled together. The one side light is still on, and we’re still dressed as we were when we danced together; my white tracksuit bottoms and white lace bra, the black jeans he changed into and nothing more. Not even underwear.

  Dane played the song that I heard through the phone twice last night. We danced lazily and effortlessly to the unbelievable skill of his dad on saxophone and the beautiful, captivating voice of his mum. It’s now my favorite song.

  It’s about expressing I love you in ways other than saying it.

  Many of the ways Dane has told me the same thing.

  Love is more than a word.

  In my case it’s an encapsulation of actions I’ve been blind to, because I was looking for the wrong thing. I wanted Dane to say it.

  Once upon a time I was with a man who said it so easily, but his actions said otherwise. I know what it is to be told you’re loved, but what you experience is anger, pain, control and cruelty through other words.

  After Dane and I finished on the phone last night, after he shared something so personal and special with me, I spent hours thinking about the past few years of my life and the time I’ve been with Dane. Suddenly, my awareness and understanding, of us as a couple and me as an individual, started to fall into place.

  I love my life right now. I’m entirely in love with the man sleeping at my side, and I’m not afraid to tell him that any longer.

  Turning my head puts Dane and I nose-to-nose. I know I should leave him alone; he has work today, I can make up for lost time once he goes. But I can’t stop myself.

  Tilting my head a fraction, our lips touch. I press mine to his. He’s unaware of my intrusion, so I brush the side of my forefinger against his cheek. His eyes stay closed, but the tiniest furrow between his brows and the slightest movement of his head tells me he’s waking up.

  This time when I kiss Dane, he kisses me back. One soft press and then I slip my tongue into his mouth, his palm cups my cheek. I pop the button on his jeans, lower the zip, and start to push them down. When they’re mid-thigh, Dane pushes them off the rest of the way and shifts to kneel between my legs and removes my clothes.

  Remaining between my thighs, he pushes my knees higher and wider. Placing one hand on the bed, with his arm extended, Dane holds himself up over me. We’re fully exposed to each other with no contact between us. He looks down into my eyes as he presses a finger inside me, moving back and forth. He adds a second, then a third, fucking me slowly with all three, my wetness increasing with the pleasure. Rocking my hips takes him deeper, heightening the sensations. I watch as his gaze takes in my face, my enjoyment; my eyes, my mouth, even my forehead. His focus lingers on my lips when I lick them.

  The stroking of my walls stops and I glance down, propping my chin on my chest, as his hand closes around his long, thick shaft. I watch as he glides along his cock, moving over satin-soft skin and blood engorged veins, his wet fingers lubricating him. When a large pearl of pre-come presents at the tip, I reach down between us and catch it in my palm. As he massages his shaft, I focus on the head. The vision of our joint caresses; his large, masculine hand with chocolate colored skin, and my smaller, feminine hand with fairer skin is enough to make me moan. His low groans and muttered words designed to tease and encourage me and my awareness of his attention remaining on my expression make me feel desperate. I find myself writhing with want as his name slips from my lips weaved with pitiful whimpers.

  “Soon, baby,” is his continued response.

  Watching me, reading me, when he knows I’m absolutely aching with need, he fills me with one hard thrust. My screaming moan of relief collides with his deep, coarse groan. With his hands on the mattress, either side of my shoulders, he’s raised over me and only our lower bodies connect. He fucks me as though we haven’t been together in weeks, not just days. I grip his wrists to hold myself in place and my body devours him as though we haven’t been together in weeks, not just days.

  Loud and shameless, I should probably be mindful of the fact that we’re in a hotel and mute my vocal expression of pleasure, but I don’t care – I want my man and everything he has to give. Dane verbally encourages this, he wants to hear me.

  He slips his arms around my waist and takes me with him as he sits back on his heels. We’re stomach-to-stomach, chest-to-chest. As he thrusts upwards, I ride him, slow and controlled, pressing the heels of my feet into the mattress for extra leverage.

  His moist skin; the bulk of his tense, rippling muscles; the firm clutch of his hands on my breasts; the fullness of my passage snugly sheathing his dick; his wonderful, safe, and welcome scent; his evident pleasure, I take it all in and lose myself in him. When he fists my hair at the nape, I willingly let him ease my head back and keep him in the circle of my arms as his lips, tongue and teeth caress, suck and nip my breasts and neck.

  Sensations start to spike, powerful pulsation building in my clit. Embracing my moans of ecstasy, I welcome the intense, sweet release. Dane holds me tight to him through his own climax. I love the way he holds me when he comes. I feel like I’m the only thing that exists in his world in those moments.

  In a quiet filled with contentment, I lay with my head on Dane’s chest. His strong
, steady heartbeat plays its rhythm beneath my ear, and I’m wrapped in him and his scent, under the cover.

  “Why did you wake up before?” Dane asks as his fingers slip into my loose hair and start massaging my scalp.

  “I honestly don’t know. I think it’s just because of the light being on or something. Keep working my scalp like that and I won’t be alert for much longer.”

  “I know.”

  My cheek presses against him as I smile at that. “So you’ve got me figured out?” Whenever he does this to me I’m gone within minutes. It’s always timed perfectly, when I’m restless and can’t sleep.

  “In some ways yes. In other ways no. I know there’s something haunting you in your sleep. I know you’re not ready to talk about it. I hope that’ll change, and you’ll confide in me soon. Can you promise me something, though?”

  I can’t speak. Not only because I’m so stunned by what he said, but because my throat is tight with emotion. I force myself to nod in agreement.

  “If you wake up from a nightmare and I’m still asleep, I want you to wake me and let me hold you. I won’t ask you about it, I’ll only try to make you feel safe.”

  I squeeze my eyes shut as a sudden buildup of tears makes them sting. One escapes, but I don’t mind and I don’t try to stop it when it leaves the side of my eye and lands on Dane’s chest.

  I slowly nod again, and I mean it – I will do as he’s asked.

  “Whenever you need to cry, do it knowing that we’re still equal and all I’ll want is to take away the reason for those tears, unless they’re tears of happiness.”

  My response is the same, and again, I mean it.

  “If you ever start to doubt me wanting to be with you, don’t drive us both crazy with questions while you try to figure things out. Just tell me how you’re feeling and let me show you that you’re wrong. There isn’t any other woman out there that I could possibly want as much as you. You’re all I want.”

  Oh, boy, what woman wouldn’t sob all over her boyfriend if he said things like that to her?

  This one can’t help it, that’s for sure.

  I haven’t let myself cry for over nine months. Now that I am, I feel like I’m making up for something I’ve needed to do that whole time. And I can do it knowing that Dane won’t take pleasure from my tears, they won’t make him feel powerful and me weak.

  All Dane does the whole time is hold me tightly, until I can no longer keep my eyes open.

  The next morning, Dane escorts me to my room. We stop outside the door.

  “You gonna be okay?” he asks, his gaze searching mine.

  “More than okay.” I absolutely mean it.

  “Sure you don’t want me to go talk to Stephan?”

  “No, honestly it’s fine. He didn’t mean any harm. I’d rather not make a bigger deal of it.”

  He drops his bag, cups my cheeks and kisses me. Bad move, now I really don’t want him to go. I wrap my arms around him and feast on his mouth. Dane responds with the same enthusiasm.

  “No PDA in the hall,” I hear Leona say in her American accent.

  When Dane and I look in her direction, him laughing at her, she’s walking towards us. She stayed in Kayla and Ella’s room last night.

  Stopping at my side, Leona hugs me. “You look bright eyed and bushytailed,” she says.

  “I am.”

  “Stephan’s really sorry, he feels so bad.”

  “I don’t want him to feel bad.” I turn my attention to Dane before discussing this with Leona, because it took a lot of talking on my part this morning to persuade him to let me deal with the situation. “You’ll be late, you should get going.”

  “Okay. I’ll talk to you before the show,” he says.

  “Thank you for looking after my friend,” Leona says, and then she hugs him, quite enthusiastically.

  Dane’s eyes widen a little, with surprise, and he hugs her back.

  Forty Nine: Dane

  Quality bourbon, vintage tobacco and funky Latin beats; that’s the order of the night. Saff wanted to have a movie night at her house with Su, Brooklyn, Leona, Kayla, Ella, Tracy, and Rebecca, so here we guys are. I’m not going hard, though, I want my head fully clear for Brooklyn’s first motorcycle ride tomorrow.

  The topic of conversation is women and karma, in relation to each other. Gerard has become a little fixated on karma of late. I think there’s more to it than meets the eye.

  “So come on, you, it’s clear something’s going on,” I say to Gerard.

  We all look at him. I’m not the only curious one here, he’s been secretive lately and this is a man that usually tells us everything, even the shit we don’t want to know.

  “Guys you would not believe it. One minute I’m cruising through life, having me a good time, Jessica, Molly, Mackenzie. And then … Bam!” His hands slap together in the air before landing flat on the table top. “Hold up! Road. Block. Ahead.” He shakes his head and follows that up with, “Peyton.” Relaxing back in his chair, he goes silent.

  Faces frozen, we all stare at him. I’m not sure what to take from that name, but I’ve never seen that look on his face before. No wait. When he gets a new car he has it, but never when talking about a chick. The dude adores women, but he doesn’t get attached.

  “And?” Adam asks.

  “And what?” He shrugs.

  “You can’t just say that and nothing more.”

  “What more is there to say? She’s the one.”

  “Fuck me, you’ve got it bad,” I say, astounded. “I’ve never seen that look on your face in all the years I’ve known you. Who is she?”

  “My dad was getting pissed with me at work. Said I wasn’t pulling my weight. He decided I should be demoted to teach me a lesson, have me earn my position back, like I give a fucking fuck. He got in a replacement; Peyton Jordan. Guys, you have got to see her. She’s a smoky-eyed brunette with nice curves and the prettiest smile I’ve ever seen. The finest ass, too, and here’s the best part …”

  He goes quiet again.

  He stays quiet.

  Motherfucker loves the anticipation right now. I’m on the verge of kicking his chair when he finally opens his mouth to continue.

  “She’s an ex-porn star.”

  “What?” we all say in stunned unison. He said it like he was telling us she’s an English teacher.

  Gerard laughs. “I’m kidding, guys. Everything is true except the last part, although, she’d be perfect for that career if she wanted to do it. I’d be her number one fan, for sure.”

  I still can’t believe it, he’s the last person I expected to hear this from.

  “So what’s going on with you two?” I ask.

  “I watch her all day. If my dad thought I wasn’t pulling my weight before.” He shakes his head and smiles.

  “Dude, man, c’mon. Give us more,” I say. I don’t like the way he’s delaying shit.

  “I know everything I possibly can about her. I know where she lives. If I can get up early enough, I go to her house and watch her leave for work. When she finishes, I follow her home. Sometimes I drive by at night, park up and just hang outside her house.” Oh, shit.

  “That’s stalking,” Joe says, sounding no less stunned than I feel. “You’re stalking the poor woman.”

  “That’s not stalking, I’m not gonna hurt her.”

  “That’s not the point,” Adam and I say, unintentionally at the same time.

  This is something else I never expected to hear from him. And there was Joe and me thinking we were weirdoes.

  “Guys, it’s not how it sounds, we speak every day. I’m not some crazy killer pervert – I wouldn’t harm a hair on her head. I can’t stop thinking about her and sometimes I just have to see her.”

  “I get it,” Joe says. “We all get it. But you can’t just follow her around and sit outside her house. Does she know how you feel about her?”

  “She knows I like her, but she thinks it’s a bad idea because she works for my dad. That�
��s kinda why I started following her, I just need to be near her.”

  Joe continues. “You can’t keep doing it, brother. Whatever way you look at it, you’re stalking her. She probably wouldn’t be impressed – she’d be totally weirded out if she knew. Just tell her how you feel. If you really want her, and she doesn’t like the work situation, get another job or something. But stop with the stalking.”

  “If that’s what it takes, then that’s what I’ll do.”

  “Damn, you’re serious,” I state.

  “I’ve never been more serious about anything in my life,” Gerard says, reaching for his bourbon.

  “Fuck that, I’ll gladly stick to my own bullshit,” I say.

  Fifty: Brooklyn

  I’m standing in front of Dane, at the entrance to Elizabeth’s Drive, and I’m fucking shitting myself. Full on, heart racing, heavy gut feeling, nervous. But, beneath it all, I’m also excited.

  I think that’s why Dane looks humored.

  “You cool?” he asks, holding my helmet in one hand and fiddling with the strap.

  My head protection is fabulous; it’s shiny and black with purple licks of color. It doesn’t go with Ray’s bike, in terms of style, but I wanted something nice to use again and again, and it will go perfectly with Dane’s. Though, I’m not sure when I’ll feel ready to take on the city or get on one of Dane’s motorcycles, which I find more intimidating than Ray’s. I love that my first ever ride is going to be on the same bike his was. That’s what’s driving my willingness the most right now.

  “Absolutely,” I say, anxious and eager.

  Someone beeps their car horn. Dane and I look behind him, in the direction of the sound. Gerard passes us in a black classic style car. A blonde woman in the passenger seat waves our way. Dane waves back and I just smile, more so because I’m astonished.

  “Who was that?” I ask before I can stop myself from being so nosey. As attractive as she was, that woman was definitely older than Gerard.

  Dane grins. “That’s Julianne Peterson. Gerard’s mom.”

  My brows pop up. Flipping heck. “She’s stunning.”

  “She sure is. She used to be a model back in the– you’re about to meet her.” His gaze travels beyond me, his lips curving wider. He steps to the side.