Rock'n Tapestries

by Shari Copell

  Debbie was a pretty woman, a dishwater-blonde streaked chestnut, with blue eyes and fine sculpted cheekbones dusted with rose-colored blush. She had full lips that she’d passed on to her son. His mother was smiling, one arm secured protectively around his waist, but the smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. She’d had it tough—a woman alone in a large city, raising a son by herself. She must have worried herself sick about Asher when she knew she wasn’t going to beat the cancer.

  He’d been fiercely devoted to his mother, even back when I dated him. They were a team, forged from adversity, and I always got the sense no one would ever come between them. I frowned up at the portrait. Maybe that was the problem. No other woman would ever compare to his mother.

  The back door crashed open, and Asher struggled through with my bags. I silently thanked Terri, the lady police officer who’d gathered my things for me, though she’d gone a little overboard, packing two large and heavy overnight bags.

  I jumped up from the sofa and took one from him. “Let me help you with those.”

  “God, what’s in here? A dead body?”

  I froze and choked. “That’s not funny.”

  He glanced at me, alarmed. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to be funny. They’re really heavy though. I think I might’ve popped a nut.”

  “I believe that bag might hold every single cosmetic and bath product I own.” I laughed. “We women know what’s important.”

  He headed toward the stairs in the living room. “I’ll put you in the guest room for tonight. Follow me.”

  I got in line behind him but came to a halt. “Oh.”

  He stopped at the bottom of the steps and turned to me. “What’s wrong?”

  “I don’t have a phone anymore. Scott crushed it with his boot.” A shiver settled down my spine as I thought of the sound it made on my kitchen floor. Why did that bother me so much?

  Asher gave me a patient half-smile. “I have a phone here.”

  It’s not that, exactly. It’s just that...my parents have no way of getting ahold of me now. I don’t want them to worry.”

  “I’ll call them when we get you settled and give them my number. You can tell them you’re safe with me.”

  The sound of the phone being destroyed echoed through my skull again. I dropped the bag I was carrying and wrapped my arms around myself.

  Asher dropped the bag he was holding and came to me. He ran his hands up and down my arms and stared into my eyes. “Chelsea, did he...did he...hurt you? If so, maybe you should’ve gone to the hospital first?”

  I got his meaning. “He didn’t rape me, if that’s what you’re asking. He said I was repulsive and had decided on torture instead. He wanted to hurt me, but he took so many pills of some kind that he spaced himself out and couldn’t do it.” I smiled wanly at him. “He kicked me a couple of times—my back and shoulders are sore, but otherwise, I’m not hurt.”

  Not externally anyway. I could feel the fine threads of self-control starting to fray though. Every time I thought of the crunch of the phone, I got sick to my stomach and started to shake.

  He patted my shoulders, kissed me on the cheek, and then picked up my bags. “C’mon. Let’s get you settled upstairs, and then I’ll draw you a hot bubble bath.”

  The room he led me to was small and cozy, done up in creams, pinks, and mauves. A double bed awaited me with fluffy pillows and clean sheets, the equivalent of open arms to me just then. I couldn’t wait to get into it, pull the covers over my head, and shut out the world.

  I walked in, looked around, and got tangled up in those eyes of his again. He dropped my bags on the bed, and we stood looking at each other for what felt like an eternity. I knew both of us were holding our breath. Was he waiting for me to cry? Have a break down? Oddly enough, I didn’t really feel like doing either.

  At least not until he went into his mother’s room and sorted through her closet looking for a bathrobe. The sounds of the hanger scratching on the rod in the closet sounded (to my ears) just like the hammer being pulled back on the pistol Scott had. I lost my shit.

  I started to scream and went to my knees. Asher was by my side in an instant. He pulled me into his arms, shushing me like you’d quiet a child who was afraid of the dark. I molded myself to him, clutching at him with both hands, and sobbed hard.

  “God, Chelsea. God.” He wasn’t faking the pain in his voice. “I almost lost you again.”

  I couldn’t have shaken anymore if you’d dropped me outside naked in a snowdrift. I tried to curl into a ball away from him, but he wouldn’t let me. He held me with strong arms against him, and a bunch of things assaulted my senses—his scent, his warmth, the sound of his breathing, his heart beating, just him—and I made a decision that should have set off half a dozen warnings and didn’t.

  Disastrous choices sometimes feels like a career to me. I am totally a “here-and-now, instant gratification” type of person. I want what I want when I want it. My mother always said, “Act in haste, repent in leisure”, and I swear to God I’m going to have that engraved on my tombstone.

  I had almost died. Again. LifeisshortLifeisshort… I lay in Asher’s lap and couldn’t stop thinking about it. My mind’s eye kept seeing Scott put that gun into his mouth, the spray of red as he’d pulled the trigger. I’d looked away, but not before I’d seen one side of his face explode outward against the wall of my living room, taking with it an eye so full of pain it stole my breath.

  I wanted something, but I didn’t know what. Then it hit me. I wanted comfort. To touch and be touched by another human being. To be held and stroked and murmured to and loved. I wanted to be assured that I was still whole and strong enough to get through the horror that was surely coming in the next couple of months. I wanted to share my soul with someone who had seen me from the inside out and was on my fucking side.

  “Asher,” I croaked like a frog. “Asher, make love to me.”

  He froze, as I knew he would. “Jesus Christ, Chelsea. Are you nuts?”

  “No.” I wanted to feel him inside me. I was never more certain of anything in my life. I would deal with the nuclear reaction that choice was sure to bring about later. But right now…

  “Please.” I pulled myself up to look into his eyes. If I could just make a connection there, I knew I could make him understand. I put one hand against his cheek and felt his heat. “I need you to touch me. I need to know that I’m still alive, and I’m still Chelsea Whitaker, and I’m going to be okay. I want this. I want you…”

  He buried his mouth on mine with a kiss so fierce that I shivered. He tongue-fucked me mercilessly, groaning into my mouth as he did so. After a moment of the most intense sexual heat I’ve ever felt, he broke the kiss. “Are you sure about this? My God, you went through hell last night. It just feels like I’m taking advantage of you.”

  “I want you to take advantage of me. I want to forget. Please.” It was his turn to shiver. His eyes were strangely glassy—he was looking at me but not seeing.

  He swept me up into his arms in one swift motion. The next thing I knew, I was on my back on his bed, his shirt was off, and he was fumbling with his zipper. I could see the outline of the monster hard-on that was behind it. My pussy muscles clamped down in response and issued forth more wetness.

  He swung over me and straddled my hips then went for my T-shirt. I stopped him. “Wait a minute. You’re not…you don’t…what about STDs? Have you been tested?”

  He sat back and sort of glared at me. “You don’t think I’m diseased, do you?”

  “Well, how the fuck should I know? You slept with everything that could nod its head in agreement when we dated. Did you wear condoms with all of them?”

  He looked a little angry now. I was afraid I’d spoiled the mood, but I wasn’t about to put myself at risk.

  “It wasn’t as many as you think, and yes, I always wore condoms. I had myself tested a year ago, and I was clean. I haven’t been with anyone for a very long time. Not since I was tested.” He si
ghed and ran his hand through his silky hair. “Maybe this isn’t such a good idea. I’m sorry you think so poorly of me.” He planted one foot on the floor and prepared to swing himself off me.

  I grabbed his arm and caught his gaze. “No lies this time.”

  His eyes were big and brown and gorgeous, and I saw the truth there. Was I seeing what I wanted to see? Maybe. But I’d looked into those eyes enough when he was lying to know the difference.

  “No lies, baby.”

  “Do you have condoms now? I don’t want to get pregnant.”

  A slight wave of relief rippled across his face. “I don’t have any condoms. I’ll pull out before I come.”

  There were those damned warning bells again. “You said you had one in your wallet at Christmas.”

  He turned red. “I threw it away. It was a good thing we didn’t try to use it at Christmas. The wrapper was all tore up, and the expiration date was two years ago. It might have broken...”

  I frowned up at him. Why did he have a condom in his wallet that was that far past the expiration date? Ah, yes, my Asher was quite the paradox, wasn’t he?

  A thousand thoughts ran through my brain as I gazed up at him. I was a few days before my period, so I was probably safe. We’d mostly used condoms before, but he’d also pulled out a few times when we didn’t have them. I hadn’t gotten pregnant. Did I feel like playing Russian roulette?

  I was past the point of no return. I was extremely wet. I wanted him. Life was so short, and mine had almost been extinguished the night before. Common sense went right out the window, along with any inhibitions I might have had.

  “Then that’s what you need to do, because if you don’t fuck me tonight, I’m going to die.”

  We both laughed, scattering the awkward moment. He stood by the side of bed and stared down at me.

  “Get that T-shirt off or I’m going to rip it off,” he growled. I love a man who takes charge of things. I did as I was ordered. Reaching around me with an impatient noise, he unsnapped my bra and flung it to the floor.

  I’m fairly well endowed. My girls quivered as they bounced out of the bra, and I heard his sharp intake of breath. “Christ, I never thought to see those beautiful breasts again.” His voice was hoarse and raw.

  I shimmied out of my jeans and threw them to the floor. His gaze played over me, lingering on the small neat patch at the junction of my thighs as his mouth slowly dropped open. I knew that’s where his eyes would stop. I was so turned on I wanted to shove both hands down there and get to work on my nub myself. I resisted the urge.

  “One of us has too many clothes on, and I’m naked.” I peered up at him with half a smile.

  “Fuck if you’re not.” His gaze met mine as his hands went to his zipper again. Slowly, torturously, he pulled it down, so slow it didn’t even make any noise. Both hands planted firmly inside the waistband of his Calvin Kleins and his Levis, he pushed and wiggled his hips until the head of his cock was just barely visible…and I was the one who inhaled sharply as my gaze darted from his cloth-covered cock to his eyes and back again.

  “Damn you! I want to see you. Do it! Take them off!”

  He shoved them to the floor with one quick motion, and there it was. Large and hard and more than ready to do some Chelsea lovin’. It stood proud and rigid against his washboard abs, and the feeling that swept over me was beyond description. Tonight, he was mine.

  He’d given me a good looking over; I now returned the favor. It was more than just his cock that turned me on. He was that special kind of guy who just knows how to use the tools he was given. Not only had the motion of the ocean been highly satisfactory all those years ago, Asher had been a pro with his hands, fingers, and mouth as well.

  I loved his testicles. They hung there like ripe fruit, halfway to his knees and full of hot cum for me. I reached out and cupped them in one gentle hand, and he jerked as though he’d been electrocuted. “Holy hell!” He tipped his pelvis forward, forcing his balls into my hand. They were so soft, like a horse’s nose. I caressed them as he quietly lost his mind.

  The next thing I knew he was on top of me, kissing me hard, claiming my lips as though he were trying to fuse with my soul. His hands clutched at my breasts, kneading them urgently, though he took care to be gentle. Too bad I didn’t want gentle. I wanted to be bruised. Taken. Claimed. I felt disturbed, unsettled, as though I had a hurricane raging inside me. I couldn’t put a name to it, but it was primal, coming from a part of me I had never tapped into before.

  I could try for the rest of my life and never be able to convey how this man affected me, inside and out. His hands on me drained every single rational thought from my head. I couldn’t think. I could only feel. And hot damn, the things I was feeling…

  He drew himself up to a sitting position again, settling across my pelvis. “I don’t even want to touch you, baby girl. I just want to look down at you like this for hours.”

  “I’m sorry, but that’s not going to work for me.” I ran my hand down one lean, muscled thigh. His balls were hot pressed against the slight rise of my stomach. Asher’s toffee eyes…his whole gorgeous face…were alive with need. He gave me a look that made my heart pound with anticipation. His gaze traveled over my body and burned me— I could almost feel it physically. I never wanted the moment to end.

  He ran his palms lightly over my nipples then curved his fingers around the contours of my breasts. He let them linger there for a moment. The expressions shivering across his face were priceless—the male mind absorbing the wonder of the female body. Slowly, deliberately, he molded his hands to the arc of my waist and moved them down to grip my hipbones with tense fingers. His throat pulsed as he swallowed. My mouth went dry as I watched him.

  His eyes glistened as his gaze followed his hands down my body. I narrowed my eyes at him. Were those tears? “Asher? Is something wrong?”

  He let his breath out in a quivering sigh. “I forgot how damned beautiful you were. I feel like…this sounds so fucking stupid…but I feel like I’m in the presence of God or something. I shouldn’t be touching you like this.” He looked at me. “You should be in a museum.”

  I laughed and reached up to touch his cheek. “Asher, that’s silly. I’m flattered that you feel that way, but I’m still just plain old Chelsea, same as I was before…”

  He shook his head and looked hurt. “You have never been plain old Chelsea…not to me. Damn you, I could never get you out of my head. I could never forget about you.”

  I was too astonished to speak. This was so not Asher. After a moment, the lump in my throat subsided a bit. “I don’t know where this is coming from, but I want you to make love to me. I’ll understand if you don’t want to.”

  “Oh, I want to.” He laughed and rubbed his palms together. “I’ve wanted to do this ever since I carried you into the hospital. I always wondered what happened to you. I wanted to come and find you, but I knew you hated me. I didn’t have the guts to face you. When I found you working at Tapestries, I knew I couldn’t let you out of my sight again. I want to make love to you. Will you just let me go at my own pace?”

  My stomach drew up into a painful knot at his words. I didn’t understand what the hell he was trying to say, and it wasn’t really a time to ask questions. I saw a side of him he hadn’t let me see before—the one that was capable of empathy. God bless him, he really did have feelings.

  I smiled, trying to reassure him. “Take your time. I’m not going anywhere.”

  “I wouldn’t let you go even if you wanted to. Tonight, you’re mine.” I felt a quiver of pleasure. The balance between us—at least for now—had tipped in my favor at some point.

  Shifting, he lay down next to me. My eyes fluttered closed as he reached for me. Nothing had changed. Slow, easy, and soft, classic Asher-style. The hands of a skilled musician. My thoughts swirled like water going down the drain. Mindless pleasure disintegrated me.

  Random words that made no sense skittered around in my skull. I tried t
o snatch at them, thinking they would anchor me to earth and sanity, but nothing was going to save me now. I was lifted into the air by a wet mouth on my nipples, his tongue swirling around tightening flesh. Urgent fingers pushed into my wetness, brushing across my clit. I arched my back and shuddered through an orgasm as two fingers expertly played me. My hands curled involuntarily, and my fingernails dug into the smooth muscles of his back as I rose off the bed.

  I dimly wondered how long he was going to torture me like this, then was gripped by another O. “Holy shit!” I managed to gasp, “You are so fucking good...”

  “I still know what makes you purr. Your body remembers me...”

  “Shut up!” I pulled his mouth to mine and devoured him. He tasted and smelled and felt like everything that had ever mattered to me, and I wanted more. More. I managed to catch that word and focus on it as my tongue glided over his.

  And then he moved again, one fluid motion, and he was on me and in me and oh my fucking God, I can’t even think...

  I curved my body to his as he moved inside me. I wanted to be as much a part of him as he was of me, and then I was falling in mindless oblivion. Our combined breathing sounded like the roar of a waterfall. The blood gushed in my ears as I came over and over and over. He slammed into me, each solid thrust paired with my name on his lips, and then he groaned and pulled out, shooting hot cum in long, strong spurts all over my hip.

  I drifted down to earth with a smile on my face, a breathless angel without wings. Melting, reforming against him in a tangle of arms and legs, I had the presence of mind to wonder, What does this make us now?

  The scar tissue around my heart hardened instantly. Sleeping with him didn’t make us anything, really. It didn’t mean he would change because we’d shared our bodies. I’d needed what he’d given me. No more, no less. Trying to think beyond that point where Asher was concerned was stupid. Hadn’t I learned anything from my first go-around with him?

  I felt the knot in my stomach relax. It had taken me five years, but I was getting it. I resolved to push the future out of my mind and just enjoy the now.