Hold Onto Me_A Secret Baby Romance

by Juliana Conners

  “Did he believe you?” Elijah asked me.

  “He just said ‘okay’ and hung up the phone. I was really relieved that he let me go, and I blew out a huge breath. My heart was beating fast and my palms were sweating. I felt like I was doing something wrong to my dad, but I also felt like I had to keep my mother's memory pure and untainted or else I’d be doing something wrong to her.”

  “What a bad position to be in,” Elijah said.

  “Yeah. I couldn't imagine what he would feel like if he knew that my mother had been running away to be with her boyfriend the night that she’d been killed. She was literally on her way when it happened. She was killed by a drunk driver.”

  I paused, then decided to keep divulging my innermost fears.

  “I wonder what she had been thinking in those final moments right before she was hit. Had she been thinking about me? Did she consider what her choice was going to mean for her only daughter? I tried to tell myself that she really had been thinking of me and not selfishly thinking of herself.”

  “Of course,” Elijah said. “These are only natural thoughts to have after such an event takes place. Multiple events, actually.”

  “I was awake many nights beating myself up,” I confessed. “I felt like I should have tried harder to convince my mother not to leave, to make her stay. Then maybe she would still be alive. Maybe we wouldn't have had to bury her and say goodbye forever. Even though I had promised my mother that I wouldn't say anything, I keep thinking: should I have said something to my dad and perhaps he would have stopped her from leaving? Would he have been able to talk her out of it? Would that have caused the first argument that I would ever remember them having? There were so many different scenarios that I was working out in my mind that I was on the verge of driving myself crazy.”

  I stopped talking, or else I could keep going forever. But the thoughts kept whirling in my mind, just like they always did.

  Would my dad have mourned her the way that he had been doing if he knew that she had been unfaithful and had been planning to leave him? Not only was she planning it, she had acted upon that plan and left him. Would he have felt that she got what she deserved?

  I shuddered at the thought. No, I knew that it was better for my father to believe that she was gone and that they stayed on good terms. There was nothing that could be done to change things anyway.

  That was why I had been so eager to dismiss Jean, my mother's boyfriend, when he showed up to her funeral. Nothing was going to taint my mother's memory as long as I had something to say about it.

  Elijah stroked his beard, pondering everything that I had said. After a while, he finally spoke.

  "Well, it seems to me that since this is still eating at you and you’re unsure, then for your own good you need to have an honest conversation with your father and tell him the truth."

  I didn't expect him to say that.

  "Why tarnish my mother's memory? There's nothing that can be done about it now."

  "No, nothing can be done to change the facts of what happened. But you are holding on to guilt about the situation,” Elijah answered. “And both of you have been grieving so much. Sharing the information that you have with him could be a key part in helping both of you to heal. Plus, at least it won’t be this lone secret for you to bear anymore. Maybe letting go of it can help you find peace.”

  I thought about what he said. Maybe there was some truth to his words. I would love to release the heavy load that was weighing me down. I just didn't want to do it at the risk of breaking my father's heart. Losing my mother had already done a great job of that.

  "I don't know," I admitted. "I would tell him, but I just don't want him to think ill of my mother."

  "It's okay," he said, reaching his arms around me in a big hug.

  It felt nice to be nestled in his arms. As he held me, I started to get turned on again. It seemed like bad timing, but I couldn’t help it. I wanted him so bad. I couldn't get enough of him. He was so sexy and he fulfilled me in ways I never thought were possible.

  I realized I had temporarily escaped from my life with my dad to deal with my guilt. Being here with Elijah was just what I needed to be able to face my guilt and fears. I was both hopeful and curious about what was going to happen next with this welcoming, protective caveman.

  Chapter 22 - Elijah

  "Thank you for telling me your story," I said, truly grateful that Michelle felt like she could open up to me.

  I knew that it couldn't have been easy to share something so sensitive to her about her mother with me. Seeing her tears and hearing her shaking voice told me that she still had strong emotions about what had happened.

  "You're welcome,” she said. “Thank you for letting me get it all out. I don't think that I've ever shared all of that with anyone else."

  "Sometimes you need share these things so that people can get a better understanding of you and what you've been through,” I said. “And it can help you work through it, too.”

  "I agree," she said, raising an eyebrow, her eyes fixated on me.

  I knew instinctively it was a hint that she wanted me to share more of my story so that she could understand me a little better. But I really didn't want to share my story with her just yet. Even though we were trapped out in the cave together, we'd been having a pretty good time. I would hate to turn it into a depressing experience by sharing my sad story.

  "You know what?" I said. "I think that we've had enough serious talk for one night. Let's save my story for another night."

  "Why?” she asked. “You were nice enough to listen to me share. I want you to share with me so that I can listen to you and get to know you better.”

  "I know." I said, squeezing her in my arms. "And we will have plenty of time to do that later. This storm doesn’t seem to be letting up quite yet. So, for now, let's just enjoy being in each other's company."

  She was silent for a few minutes and finally said, "Okay."

  I nestled my face in her thick crop of hair. Her hair smelled like wildflowers. She was so warm and soft in my arms. I felt like I could have laid there with her for all eternity. Even though it was storming badly, part of me wished the brutal weather would go on forever so that I’d never have to let her go.

  As much as I was enjoying lying there with Michelle, a small part of me felt sad, wishing I could find the fucking courage to open up to her. It had been a long time since I had experienced feeling close to someone like this. And she was such an attentive listener.

  I wished that I could open up to her and share my story, to have someone listen who truly cared and would try to understand. I quickly dismissed the thought and settled myself with the thought of holding her for the rest of the night. But it seemed like she had other plans. She started to grind her ass into me, moaning softly. After a few minutes of this she sighed dejectedly.

  "You okay?" I asked her.

  "Yes. No. I don't know."

  "What's wrong?" I asked.

  She sat up and turned to face me.

  "I want you to make love to me."

  I looked at her a little bit confused, but then told her, "Okay, sure," with a chuckle. “I mean, you certainly don’t have to beg me. I want to make love to you. I just didn’t want to rush in and do it after you had shared such big information with me. I didn’t want you to feel like I was using you.”

  "No, I want you to make such good love to me that I don't remember any of my parents’ tragedy,” she said. “I don't want to think about my mother dying or my father slipping into depression… or anything. I want my mother to be the woman that my father mourns, his loving and doting wife. A woman who is faithful and devoted to her husband. Not this woman who was hell-bent on leaving her husband and her only child behind. I wish that I could wake up and it could all be a dream."

  She had high hopes that I wasn’t sure I could fulfill. But I would do my best to make her memories happy ones, ones that would last well beyond our time in the cave.

  I sta
rted by kissing her face. All of it. Her skin was warm and soft. She reached her hand down and rubbed on my dick, making it instantly hard. I leaned my head down and kissed her chest.

  Freeing a breast from her confining bra, I lapped up her nipple with my tongue, sucking on it until it stood at full attention. She held my face there, her breath quickening. I was intoxicated by this woman— every bit of her. The more that I kissed and sucked on her plump breast, the more turned on I got.

  When I couldn't wait until longer, I pulled my dick out, and sheathed it with a condom. I then pulled her pants all the way off and worked my cock into her already wet and tight hole. She moaned loudly as I pushed it into her deeper and deeper. I was rock hard. She winced, letting me know that she was still a bit sore from the rough sex that we had earlier.

  "Don't worry," I told her. "I'll be gentle."

  She seemed to relax once I told her that. Her pussy was sore because I had given her all that I had, and even more. I used my fingers to stroke her clit using the softest touch I could muster. I watched her dripping wetness easily glide over my fingers and down my hand. I slowly edged my dick toward her pussy and held the globular head near her entrance, making sure to enter slowly so as to feel her luscious pussy lips on contact, then slowly going further down and savoring the tightness that was binding like a vice around my cock.

  I went deep inside her, then slowly pulled out. I repeated this maneuver several times, making sure I was pleasing her. I could tell she was loving the care I was taking as I did not want to make her soreness any worse than it was. I continued in the same method, feeling her pussy tightening with each penetration. Slowly and gently, in and out.

  When her pussy clamped shut and her eyes widened, I knew she was about to cum. But, this time it was more dramatic— slower than the other times. It was like a calm had washed over her. She didn't make a sound.

  She lay there completely still, letting the sensations envelop her total being. She gripped my arms with her hands like she would never let go. I knew right then that I had succeeded in my mission.

  Before long, I was on the verge of cumming myself. It wasn’t long before my cock was shooting its seed into the condom inside her pussy, violently in sharp bursts. I hadn’t thought I had that much left in me after all of the sex that we had… but it turns out I did.

  This time was soft and sweet, just as she wanted it. When we both finished cumming, she lay lifeless in my arms. I held her and she held me back.

  I took off the condom and wiped myself clean and then we fell fast asleep in each other's arms. The pattering of the snow and crackling of the fire serenaded us as we laid huddled up in a corner of the now lovers’ cave. I could see myself getting used to this.

  Chapter 23 - Elijah

  That night, I dreamt I was flying. Or, to be more precise, I dreamt I was a helicopter. In fact, I was the helicopter that had flown my ex-SEAL buddies on that fateful day long ago. I felt them step inside me and I was flying them in the air.

  "Shots fired! Shots fired!" Harlow yelled.

  I felt the bullets hit my metal body, piercing me. It burned. I could feel myself falling from the sky. The whole time that I was falling, I kept asking myself, Why is this happening? When my body crashed against the ground, I caught fire. I felt like I was in Hell.

  I woke up with a start, covered in sweat. It took me a minute to realize that I was still in the cave with Michelle.

  "What is it?" she asked.

  I must have startled her when I woke up, because she had a wild look in her piercing, blue eyes. She looked very concerned.

  "Nothing. It's okay. It was just a bad dream that I had," I said, hugging her tight and patting her back.

  Her body was tense, and she tried to pull away from my firm grip to look into my eyes. I didn't want her to see the fear that I was struggling to dismiss. I could feel my heart beating out of my chest. I hoped that she didn't feel it, too.

  "What was your dream about?" she asked quietly.

  I debated whether to tell her, but finally decided against it.

  "Maybe I'll tell you another time. The storm has stopped. We should get going now."

  She turned to face the opening of the cave and saw that the rain had stopped, and the sun was beginning to peek out.

  "I guess you're right," she said, in a dejected voice.

  She sighed and rolled over so that she could sit up. She grabbed her coat and pulled it on and picked up her purse. She perched herself on the small ledge on the side of the cave and waited for me to gather my things.

  "You know, Elijah, I just want to thank you for being so brave," she said.

  Her compliment hit me right between the eyes. I should have felt flattered, but it made me feel guiltier.

  Brave was the last word that I would use to describe myself. And I refused to take credit for something that I was not. I was well aware of who I was. And I wanted her to accept me for who I was, not who I was pretending to be.

  I decided that it was time to tell her the truth about me.

  "Michelle, I am not brave."

  She looked at me, somewhat bewildered.

  "What do you mean?"

  Here it goes, I thought, taking in a deep breath and blowing it out.

  "When we were in the SEALS, something happened. There was an accident. And if it weren't for me being a coward, the accident probably wouldn't have happened. It was all my fault."

  She shook her head in disbelief.

  "I don't understand. You have to explain what you mean."

  "I was a pilot. I was supposed to be flying the helicopter,” I told her. “But the day before take off, we had been drilling hard all day. Everyone was tired, and we wanted to go into a town that was nearby, so we could eat some of the local food. It was actually delicious… and filling.”

  My mouth watered as I thought back to the Kabuli Palaw we had had that day. The national dish of Afghanistan, it featured steamed rice mixed with raisins, carrots and lamb.

  “The next day, I woke up puking my guts out,” I continued. “I couldn't drink water without getting sick. As the day went on, I found myself getting worse, not better. We were told that we had to go rescue another helicopter that had gotten downed inside enemy lines, so, I was supposed to fly ours to take us there. But, I felt that if I went up in the air and flew the helicopter, I would be putting everyone at risk. So, I told my commanding officer how I was feeling and that I didn't think it would be a good idea for me to go up in the air.”

  “Of course not,” Michelle agreed.

  “He told me, ‘No problem, son. We can let the rookie go up this time and you can do the next flight out.’ There were always plenty of missions. I agreed, grateful not to have to go up in the air that day. But looking back, I wonder if it wasn't food poisoning. I wonder if it was just fear in the pit of my stomach. Having to go rescue a downed chopper is never an easy task, and maybe I just freaked out. Maybe I had some sort of feeling something bad was going to happen.”

  She was looking at me quizzically. I almost wished I hadn’t started telling the story, because now I had to finish it.

  “Anyway, I remember telling the Junior Pilot that he had a big responsibility on his hands. I feel stupid now giving him that advice. He didn't make it. I feel like I might have made things worse, making him feel nervous. Then when everything happened, he probably froze up and didn’t feel as confident as he should have been.”

  She stayed silent, and I continued.

  “So, I guess I fear that my stomach queasiness was only part of what was going on with me that day. Perhaps I was scared shitless of going on that mission. I told my commanding officer days before that I was really worried about the next time we’d have to go on a rescue mission— things just seemed to be getting worse and worse during battle— but he told me to keep quiet and do as I was told. I didn't want to cause any more trouble or get him upset, so I just left it alone. But I couldn't shake this gnawing feeling that something bad was going to happen." />
  Talking to her about what happened took me right back there, like it was happening all over again.

  “The Bradford brothers and a lot of other SEALs were in the helicopter along with the rookie pilot,” I explained. “I still remember when the call came in about the crash. Everyone was rushing around the barracks. ‘They've been hit! They've been hit!" a voice yelled over the intercom.”

  I shook my head to try to get the bad memories out as I talked about them.

  "‘What's been hit? Who?!’ yelled our commanding officer, throwing the communications etiquette meant for the intercom out of the window. He was frantic to get information. His eyes bounced off his head as he tried to find a connection or something that would give him the answers he was not getting over the intercom. ‘Helicopter... shot down...’ came the voice intermittently through static.”

  I took a deep breath now as I retold the story.

  “I knew what had happened. I immediately felt nauseous and sunk to my knees on the cold concrete floor. I had a sinking feeling of regret… that I had let my squad down. I could feel the eyes from the other SEALs. I felt like they looked at me like I had betrayed my brothers. Hell, I felt like I did, too. My commanding officer couldn't even make eye contact with me.

  “When it finally sunk in that something tragic had happened, my commanding officer sat down on the ground, staring at the wall. He looked so sad, so hurt. I didn't know what to say.