Chasing Stars

by L. Duarte

  But I can’t let go of her. Her taste is addictive. Lost in a fierce sensation of passion and lust and with an insatiable craving for more of her taste, my tongue strokes and sucks her. With my lips closed around her core, I feel her body quivering. “Will,” she moans as orgasmic waves vibrate through her body.

  She reaches down and desperately grabs my shoulders, pulling me back to her. With a swift movement, she removes my boxers. Damn, she moves fast. She unleashes a sweet pain and a desperate desire. Noticing my poor attempt to contain myself, she sinks her nails in my back and her teeth graze over the hypersensitive skin of my chest. She groans and eagerly bites the tenses muscles of one of my shoulders, leaving an explosive trail of intoxicating need and urgent want.

  “Please, Will, I need you inside me,” she pleads. Her hands grab my hips and pull me to her.

  Surrounded by his love, my tongue strokes his skin, entranced by his taste. I arch my hips against his erection. Will’s body shudders. I savor the effect I have on him. I trail kisses on his skin, enjoying the firm texture of his chiseled chest and absorbing the warmth of his feverish skin. I am desperate to feel him buried inside me. A flame ignites inside and only Will can satisfy the deep-seated desire that is exploding from my core.

  Will hovers on top of me, propping his weight on his arms. He kisses me deeply. When I taste myself on his lips, my core muscles tighten. I desperately want to claim more of him. I gasp and cradle him inside my hips, welcoming Will to possess me and to take a hold of what now belongs to him.

  Will moves unhurriedly. Gently he positions himself to make me his. My muscles clench with the sweet expectation of him moving inside me. I moan. Will’s lips capture the desperate sound escaping my lips. He pulls back and whispers adoringly, “I love you so much, baby.”

  “Oh, Will. I love you too, more than you will ever know.”

  Slowly, almost reverently, he slides inside me, his eyes never breaking from mine. His stare is primitive. The moment he penetrates me—filling me—a sense of wholeness sweeps through my body, and pushes out the void that has haunted me throughout life.

  The universe, earth, Aurora, the moon, and the infinite multitude of stars fade, clash, and meld. In this sacred moment, the earth’s axle aligns itself into perfection and completeness.

  I gaze up at Will’s molten green eyes and am mesmerized by their intensity as he drives deeper and deeper inside me. His body moves in a cadence of slow and fast, gentle and hard. He is possessive and demanding. He consumes me—body, mind, and soul.

  Will and I are enclosed on our own symphony of lovemaking. Just the two of us acting out a ritual as old as time. Then I fall and Will follows, catching me along the way and wrapping me safely in the warmth of his extraordinary love.

  With a jolt, I sit on the edge of the bed. My heart thumps violently. My mouth permeates with the familiar taste of metal and fear. Portia stares at me with wide eyes and a confused expression. Damn, I must have woken her with my screams. Way to wake up my wife on our first night.

  “Will, are you OK?” She asks, sitting up beside me.

  “I’m all right, baby. Just a bad dream, that’s all. Go back to sleep.” I stroke her disheveled hair and glance at the clock. It is four in the morning. We are back in the barn, sleeping for the first time as husband and wife. I don’t understand how in the midst of so much peace and happiness, I had the recurrent nightmare.

  “I don’t want to go back to sleep, unless you tuck me in.” She yawns, and I put my arm around her shoulders and pull her closer to me.

  “I’m going to take a shower,” I say, but I realize the gesture might put an obstacle between us. The last thing I want is to start the rest of our lives together with this tone.

  “Do you care to shower with your husband?” I nibble on her naked shoulder.

  “Will, don’t you want to talk about your dream?” She purrs, and her hand caresses my chest and then trails down to my abdomen.

  “No, not with you distracting me like this,” I groan and kiss her neck.

  “Let’s take a bath. After all the trouble Lucas went to have it installed in time for our wedding, we don’t want to disappoint him.”

  “I’ll light the fireplace.” I climb out of bed and tug her hand, pulling her with me. I release her hand, and she strolls, nude, toward the tub. I tilt my head to better admire her gorgeous ass and I feel an aching need to follow her. Instead, I gather the wood and pile it in the fireplace. I want to take some time to cool my mind. The truth is the nightmare drained me. Tonight, it felt closer and more real than ever before. I shudder. Images of Portia’s bloody face with a blank expression flashes through my mind. It was the most disturbing and most real dream yet.

  I light the fire and watch the flames climb up, caressing the wood. Portia’s screams in the dream still ring in my ears. Lost in my thoughts, I am startled when Portia calls to me.

  “Come on, the bath is ready.” She bats her long lashes my way.

  I stride across the room and clamber inside the gigantic tub. Sitting with Portia in front of me, I focus on her. Her small hands squirt shampoo then rub it into a lather.

  “Wet your hair,” she requests with her sultry voice.

  I oblige, dipping my head into the hot water. When I surface, she straddles me. My body responds to her fingers gently pressing my scalp and mussing my hair with her suggestive movements. With her eyes fixed on mine, her hands slide down my neck, across my chest, and under my arms. She soaps every inch of my upper body. I shift my body, painfully aroused under her delicate strokes. She bites her lower lip. I watch her face as she scoots back and inhales before sliding her hands down my abdomen. She pauses on a very active part of my anatomy and she wraps her fingers around my erect penis. My breath becomes ragged. Her touch is gentle, tantalizing.

  “I think you are clean husband, you may rinse,” her voice falters, and I know she wants me as much as I want her. Again, I oblige. The scalding water laps against my skin and I submerge to rinse. When I surface, I run my hands through my wet hair.

  Portia sprawls back against the tub. She smiles and invites me to her. I scoot to sit between her long legs. She wraps her legs and arms around me. Feeling the fullness of her breasts against my back, I relax in her embrace. I close my eyes and relish in the softness of her body absorbing mine. Her hands move along my abdomen, lazily hiking to my chest.

  “Promise we will always be together and that you will never leave me,” Portia moans, her breath is hot and her teeth scrape lightly against my ear.

  “What’s the matter?” I ask.

  “The way you looked at me when you woke up, it terrified me. Will, you had the same stare as when you left me in London.” Her slender hands are drawing loops on my chest, and she rests her head on my back.

  “I’m sorry, baby. I kind of get disoriented after these nightmares. I didn’t mean to scare you.” She places her hand on my tense shoulders, and begins to massage my upper back and neck.

  “Do you think they will ever stop?” She asks me.

  “I’m not as affected by them anymore. Just this one nightmare, that always comes back to haunt me.” I shrug.

  “I wish I could take it away.”

  “Having you, by my side, when I wake up, is more than I ever thought I would have.”

  I relax under her firm fingers, but other muscles are too awake. She must have sensed it, because her breath speeds a bit and she tightens the hold of her legs around my hips.

  “Will, I am trying to talk about your traumatic nightmares, and you have a hard-on?” I hear the smile in her voice.

  “Oh, baby, it became a chronic condition once this hot movie star walked into my life one very warm May morning.” I grab her hand and bring it to my erection.

  “Um, perhaps, besides being an awesome movie star, she can also work on finding a cure—” Portia, lips skims my back, and she bites my shoulder, sending a tight jolt to my insides. “I have high hopes, she does—” I turn, grab Portia by her waist, and
straddle her on my lap. Water overflows, splashing everywhere.

  “Oh, well, we have a long, long time to work on it.” She giggles. “On the other hand, why cure such a marvelous condition?”

  “Good point…” Her hips swirl slowly, and seductively, and my condition worsens.

  After a day of lovemaking, my body floats in a cloud of sweet soreness. I smile to myself and bite my lower lip. Will is every bit as I expected and more. So much more.

  The violet horizon indicates the approaching twilight. We stroll along the path in the woods, hearing the cries of birds in the distance. A huge boulder sits beside the opening to the clearing. We clamber on it. Will sits, and I sprawl in between his legs.

  “The weather is so nice.” I snuggle inside his embrace.

  “Yeah, I guess it was one of God’s wedding gifts to us.” He nuzzles my hair. “I love your smell.” He breathes into my neck.

  “I love everything about you.” I look at the horizon, and the sun is hiding behind the trees.

  “We’ll have such beautiful views of sunsets from our home,” I say. “It amazes me how, before you came into my life, I never noticed or appreciated these daily miracles.”

  “I always have liked the sky. I love looking at it and losing myself in whatever color palette the day offers.”

  “I wish I didn’t have to go back to Manhattan tomorrow,” I murmur.

  “Why don’t we stay?” Will’s voice is anxious.

  “I can’t, other people are relying on me, Will. I simply can’t not show up.” The anxiety in his voice confuses me. “Why does my going back upset you?” I ask.

  “Don’t mind me. I guess I just don’t want to let go of you just yet,” he says.

  “It is only for a few hours,” I say, beaming on the inside. It is so wonderful to be treasured.

  “Did you decide where we are going for our honeymoon?” There is a trace of humor in his voice.

  “What you think of Tahiti? We could rent an isolated overwater bungalow and make love and drink coconut water to our hearts’ desire.”

  “That’s a plan. I will look into it, when you are at your media interviews.”

  We are silent, watching the sun disappear behind the trees. Even silence with Will is full of wonder.

  “This is such a perfect place for a home,” I note.

  “We need to hire an architect before January, when I start my graduate studies at Yale. I want to be able to move in by next fall, at the latest.”

  “There is no rush, the barn is lovely.”

  “I know, but you are used to much more luxury. I don’t want you regretting that you married me.”

  “Oh, Will, you are my home, where we live is insignificant to me.”

  “Also, when you carry my child inside this perfect little body, I want you to be surrounded by comfort.”

  I pause for a second, my heart leaps. “Are you thinking about having children so soon?”

  “I would have them today, but right now, I am very, very selfish when it comes to you.” He sweeps my hair to the side and kisses my nape, which sends electrical waves through my body.

  “Hmm, the thought of a piece of you growing inside me is so beyond my understanding.” I turn to face him, suddenly serious. “Will, what did I do to deserve you, to deserve this?” I wave my hand around us. “I led such a promiscuous, vain life. And now, I have all this. It does not seem fair.”

  “You, underestimate your value, Portia. You deserve so much more than you expect. You are worth so much more than you think.”

  “Am I?”

  “Oh, baby, you are my everything.” He straightens his arms around me. “I’d rather die than take my next breath of air without you in my life.”

  After wrestling with a travel agent on the phone for over two hours, I give in and called Stefan. No wonder Portia adores the man. We are on a three-way phone call, arranging the last details of the trip. It took Stefan less than a half hour to schedule the flights and reserve a private overwater bungalow in Tahiti, just like Portia wanted. Granted, using the powerhouse name of Portia McGee, the man is doubly efficient. I sigh in relief. Tomorrow evening we head out on our honeymoon.

  “It is very important that the guests are listed as Mr. and Mrs. Miller. And may I remind you that we are confident in your absolute discretion during their stay.”

  “Rest assured, we have a select staff. Her staying here will be pleasant and completely secret,” says the hotel manager.

  “Thanks,” Stefan tells the hotel manager. “And please stock the bungalow with fresh coconut water. In addition, the bed is to be made only with white Egyptian cotton sheets with at least a thousand thread count. And lots of white lilacs, Portia loves them.”

  “Will that be all, or do the guests have any other special instructions for us?” the manager inquires solicitously.

  “Will, any other requests?” Stefan directs the question to me.

  “No, I’m good,” I say.

  We bid good-bye to the manager, and in awe, I say, “Christ, Stefan, now I understand Portia’s dependency on you.”

  “You’ve got to play the part, Will. We know Portia has no idea of what the thread count is on her sheets.” He chuckles. “And she couldn’t care less about having flowers in her room. But people seem to expect crazy demands from celebrities. It is one of the perks of being a celebrity. The more you request, the more eager they become to please you. Who am I to disappoint them on behalf of our Portia?” He says with a hint of amusement in his voice.

  “Thanks, man,” I say.

  “Well, have a good time.” He pauses. “And Will, the wedding was too chaotic for me to get the chance to say this, but I want you to know that I am truly happy for you guys. Portia seems truly happy, and I wish you both a happy and long life together.”

  “Hey, I appreciate it, man.” I smile. Stefan is one of the most genuine people I’ve met.

  “Have a good trip.”

  Waiting for Portia, I park across from the TV studio. Portia is having the last interview of the day. After she is done, we will go to my place and pack. Well, if I am being honest, we will mostly spend the time making love. I smile. Portia has an insatiable appetite. My body stirs to life at the mere thought of moving inside her.

  I haven’t seen her all day. A tight knot tugs at my chest, spreading a melancholic and uneasy feeling. It is similar to a sad sunset, when I wake up from an afternoon nap to find out the day has slipped away from me.

  The common, yet peculiar, pull of Portia’s presence attracts me. The thrill of anticipation runs through my body when I see her lovely face staring at me from across the street. With a grin, I wave in her direction. She smiles and waves back at me.

  My hand reaches to open the door when the shrill blast of horns slams my ears. My head snaps in the direction of shrieking tires skidding on asphalt.

  I glance at Portia, noting a brief panic in her startled eyes. I read her lips as she says, “Will.” Petrified, I watch Portia paralyzed on the sidewalk as a car swerves her way. The car closes in, in, in. I hear the cracking thud of the car colliding against her frail body. It throws her a few yards away as if she was a damn rag doll.

  I will always remember the shocked expression on her face, right before the impact. But never will I recall how I got out of the car. I do not panic, my brain shifts into an automatic mode. With calculated movements, I tread across the noisy road, dodging cars. My focus is on the still body lying on the sidewalk. My throat closes. I continue to sprint in her direction, desperately trying to reach her. But it is as if I am walking in a murky tunnel, the further I trudge, the farther she seems to be.

  A small group of bystanders already hovers around her. I shove people out of my way. My legs buckle, my knee crushes onto the concrete as I reach for her. I see a great deal of blood surrounding her body. I swallow hard, and my body fights the urge to vomit.

  “No, no, no,” I croak, ignoring all the people on the sidewalk crushing in on her.

 
“Baby, can you hear me?” My fingers brush her vacant face. Think, Will. I order myself.

  “Someone call 911,” I yell. Her leg twists in a sickening angle. Her face has an agonizing ashen color. I touch a long slash along her hairline. It oozes an amazing amount of blood. I carefully pat her calf, feeling the wet warm gush of blood saturating her jeans. My stomach writhes. I want to scream.

  CPR. I remember I know the basics of first aid. I check for her pulse and breathing. Nothing. But I’m unsure if I checked them right. Why is this so hard? My heart pounds heavily inside my chest. Time is passing, seconds, minutes. I don’t know because everything jumbles together. For a moment, I think I am on one of my nightmares. I pray to be inside my nightmare. But the brutal image of Portia’s motionless body screeches my way. This is fucking reality.

  Again, I fight the instinct to panic or to just vomit. Even the air is oppressive.

  Crouching next to her, I ready myself to begin CPR. Before I start, a man kneels beside me.

  “My name is Chin. I am a registered nurse. Let me start the compressions. Can you handle the breathing?” he says tersely, his fingers gently palpating Portia’s face and along her neck. “No breathing, no pulse, air way is clear,” he adds, methodically to himself.

  I obey his orders, but immediately, regret it. The man sprawls his large palms on the center of her chest, and presses down hard. I hear her bones crack and see her chest collapsing. No, no, no. I clench my fist into a tight ball, resisting the urge to push the man away from her inanimate body. Frozen, I watch as he mercilessly continues with each thrust.

  “Now five breaths,” he orders without a blink.

  I blow in her mouth five times. He resumes the compressions.

  “Begin another cycle,” he says to himself.

  Cars, oblivious to the infinite pain on the sidewalk, dart down the road. Inside buildings, people are getting ready to close their offices and go home to their loved ones. Across the street, someone engages in a debate of each coffee to order. People go about their routines—here, across town, and around the planet. While Portia—a mere speck in the vast universe—lies lifeless. Grief engulfs my body. A pain so big, it is indescribable in any known language. Portia is my entire universe.