Tessa sank to the ground, trembling. What if Hector was buried beneath a collapsed building and no one was helping him?
Someone touched her shoulder, extending a bottle of water. Tessa had to wipe away the dust muddying her view before she could look up and thank them, but any words got lost as their eyes met. The bottle dropped to the ground.
“Hector?”
“Tessa?” He dropped down before her, cupping her face, mouth agape, looking just as incredulous as she felt.
“You’re okay,” she whispered.
“Cariño mio, what are you doing here? How . . . ?”
Tessa didn’t wait for him to finish. She threw her arms around him and crashed her lips down on his in a kiss that tasted of dust and tears. He had to push her away to breathe.
“Tessa, amada.” Fondling her face with his warm hands, he held her at a distance, and slowly Tessa’s vision cleared. He was in blue medical garb, and he’d never looked so tired before. So shattered.
“Why didn’t you answer your phone?” She didn’t want to sob or sound as desperate as she did. She’d thought he’d been buried in the ruins of a building.
“I’ve been helping people since the earthquake struck . . . . I have no idea where my phone is, actually.” He got to his feet and pulled her with him, leading her toward the ambulance. His grip was gentle but firm, making sure he didn’t lose her again.
Manuel joined them, asking if she was okay. Tessa nodded, numb to the bone.
Hector made her sit on a low garden wall next to the ambulance while he talked to another man in scrubs who was tending the person they’d just rescued from the ruins. She could tell the ambulance was ready to leave, and she panicked, afraid to be separated from Hector again. She wanted to get up, but Manuel held her back.
“He’s saying he will stay behind to tend to injuries here,” he explained. “Is this really your boyfriend?”
Tessa forced her eyes away from Hector to face Manuel. The coincidence of meeting Hector here, of all places, was too strange to comprehend.
“He is.” She shook her head in wonder. “The world is a village.” It sounded ridiculous in English. The world was huge and chaotic, yet it had brought both of them to this place at the same time. As if they’d been destined to meet here.
The ambulance drove off, leaving Hector behind with a bag of medical supplies. It was only when he knelt down before her, using disinfectant spray to clean her knees, that she noticed the burning of her raw skin. His touch was heartbreakingly tender, even performing such a routine task, and despite the latex gloves he wore, the shape of his hands was so familiar that his touch kindled a bittersweet ache between her ribs.
“I thought something had happened to you,” she said, voice hoarse, as Hector applied Band-Aids to her knees. He looked up, his brown eyes full of relief.
“I’m sorry. But you found me.”
“I did.” Words couldn’t do justice to the vastness of her feelings. She’d crossed a country in the car of a stranger to find him. Now that she had—or rather, they’d found each other—their words felt superficial and lacking. “I can’t believe I found you.”
Hector leaned up, stopping short of her face. “Can I kiss you?”
Tessa nodded, her bottom lip trembling. She’d thrown herself at him only minutes before, and still he asked if he was allowed to kiss her; it absolutely had been the right thing to search for him.
His lips were soft and gentle; this kiss was so different from her earlier assault on his mouth. The tenderness melted her. If he asked, she would pull him between her legs right then and there.
“Manuel is going to drive us home,” Hector said after pulling back. “Then I’ll have to go back out.”
Of course. He was a doctor, and his city needed him more than she did.
“I want to help you.” She couldn’t imagine sitting alone in his apartment while he was out in the streets helping people.
“You need to sleep. And to take a shower.”
Tessa swallowed her protest as Manuel joined them, leading the way back to his mother’s house and the car. Her luggage was still in the trunk. Manuel helped bring it up to Hector’s apartment in a building that thankfully didn’t seem to be damaged, before he said good-bye. He hugged Tessa and told her to visit him and his mother.
At last, she was alone with Hector. She was tired to the bone. He didn’t look like he was doing much better, even without jet lag. They stood silently while the noise from outside rolled like waves against their isle of quietude. Even after a shock like this, the city was unbroken.
“Let me show you the shower,” Hector said.
The bathroom was very plain, unlike the bathrooms Tessa knew from home. There was no tub and no shower tray either, just a tiled stall, a pedestal sink and a toilet, all crammed into the tiny space. She’d followed Hector inside, and now she stood between him and the door, blocking his exit.
“You should take a shower too,” she said. Keeping her eyes locked with his, she pulled her shirt over her head, dropped it to the floor, and reached for the seam of his shirt. He didn’t resist as she pulled it up and off, baring his smooth chest. She placed her palm above his heart, feeling it beat like a drum. Absorbing his warmth through her fingertips, she leaned close.
“I could have turned around and flown back home,” she whispered.
“I’m glad you didn’t.”
“I was scared.”
“Me too.”
As if to remind them of the frailty of their lives, the earth shook once more, an aftershock rolling through the building, accompanied by the eerie rattle of glass. He held her through it, pressing his face against the curve of her neck and breathing her in. She couldn’t say if it was him shaking, or if it was the ongoing earthquake moving through them.
She’d never been so acutely aware of every breath she took, nor of the man in her arms. Warm, smelling so clean and fresh, like he’d soaked in fabric softener, when really he’d been out digging through ruins and rescuing people.
Driven by a need too big to contain, she pushed him against the wall of the shower, pressing her mouth on his and drinking in his breath, thirsty to swallow him up. They were alive, with each other, and the distance they’d had to cross for this kiss no longer mattered.
Tessa reached behind them and turned on the water, gasping as it thrummed down over them, plastering their hair to their skulls and their clothes to their bodies. Dust and grime ran down their skin and swirled down the drain, washing away the anxiety that had possessed her thoughts since the airplane pilot gave them the news.
Hector fumbled with the button of her jeans shorts, pulling her close with desperate urgency. Tessa groaned, rolling her hips as the pressure of the denim seams against her crotch sparked a hot desire that soared up beneath her skin. His fingers dug into her hips as he sucked on her bottom lip, growling deep in his throat. In an instant, all pretenses of civilization fell away from him, shed like a skin that had grown too tight. She met his raw need with equal hunger, tearing at his pants. They scratched each other out of their clothes, clawing, never breaking their kiss.
“I need you,” she rasped, helping him to finish ridding her of her clothes.
“And I need you, Cariño mio.”
Tessa panted as he pushed her against the wall. It was painful, a welcome reminder that they were alive. As he kissed her again, she bit him, giving in to the strange desire simmering inside her. Groaning against her tongue, he opened up, let her lick away the sting of her bite. His chest already bore scratches. The sight of those dark red marks made her slick. She parted like a fleshy flower beneath his fingertips. No time for extended foreplay, no time to hesitate or wait for a soft bed and scented sheets.
“Yes, please,” she urged him on, arching up against his touch. Her heart raced, expanding in her chest, leaving no room to draw a breath.
“Wait.” He pulled back, causing Tessa to groan in protest. But just a second later he was back, ripping open a condom wrap
per. She wiped water from her eyes, for the first time daring to look at his gorgeous cock as he rolled the condom over it. She had forgotten how beautiful he was. Dark, smooth, proud, and hard.
With his cock in one hand, he reached for her hip, guiding her to step apart before he lined them up. Usually, she would have needed much more time to be ready. Usually he would have taken much more time to warm her up, whispering sweet filth in her ear. Not this time.
“Wrap your leg around me,” he ordered, sweeping his palm to her knee to drape her thigh around his hip. Locking eyes, he paused.
“Please. Fuck me,” she said in a breathy voice, tilting her hips and rubbing her open cunt against the head of his cock. With a growl, he drove himself into her. She was so wet that one smooth stroke was all it took.
For all their urgency before, they moved in slow motion now, gazing into each other’s eyes and drinking the other in. His cock filled her, a missing part, long lost, made for her.
“Move,” she groaned. She needed friction. Pressure. Hector sucked on the crook of her neck as he started rolling his hips, meeting hers in increasingly frantic thrusts. It lasted forever, but it was over too quickly.
Her orgasm grabbed her, punching her in the heart, taking her breath and filling her with a liquid glow, while Hector still moved. It wasn’t artful or pretty. It was perfect.
“I’ve waited for this,” she whispered, peppering his cheek and his ear with kisses. He searched for her mouth, sucked in her tongue, licking, biting, gasping as he reached his climax and stilled, his muscles gone rigid in her grip. Tessa didn’t let go. She didn’t want to lose him all over, not after the journey she had undertaken to get to him.
They were alive. They were together. They were naked and wet and slippery and poised to celebrate it all another two or three times before she would let go of him.
“Show me the bed?” she asked. He brushed her wet hair from her face, his touch reverent, as if he couldn’t believe she was there.
“The bed, the floor, the kitchen. I’ll show you everything.”
And he did. Later. First, they had a city to rebuild.
HER INVISIBLE PRISON
Jocelyn Dex
Eden’s entire body trembled, panic rising up as she stepped out the front door. It was only the fifth time she’d stepped outside in the past four years. She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to focus on her breathing. Slow, deep, calming breaths. When that didn’t quite do the trick, she pulled the vial of lavender oil from her pocket, unscrewed the cap, and continued her breathing exercises with the added calming benefit of the lavender scent.
“I can do this,” she muttered to herself. “I can walk to the end of the driveway today. I can do this,” she repeated, but with more conviction this time.
She was tired of being a prisoner of her own mind. Sick of the isolation. Sick of fear ruling her life. And she was sick of the loneliness that threatened to suffocate her.
Eden’s fifty-first birthday was in two weeks, and she was determined to make progress on escaping the invisible prison that held her captive. She had to. No risk, no reward. And she definitely desired the reward that awaited her if she succeeded.
She’d joined an online agoraphobia support group when the anxiety had become so bad that she’d become housebound. At first, it started with a panic attack at the grocery store, then a panic attack at the pharmacy, and on and on until she’d simply given up. Avoidance and grocery delivery had become her best friends.
Even though the panic attacks at stores had sucked, when she was still at least able to step outside and enjoy the sunshine, maybe do a little gardening, and still had a few friends, it hadn’t been as bad. But the day she tried to go outside to water her plants and instantly had a panic attack, she’d slammed the door shut, crumpled into a ball on the floor, and cried for hours.
Over time, her friends had dropped out of her life, and she couldn’t really blame them. Who wanted to hang out with someone who wouldn’t leave the house and was scared of her own shadow?
One step, two steps. Breathe. Three steps, four steps. Breathe.
Her legs shook with each step that carried her away from the safety of indoors. She tried to focus on the sun warming her face, the green of the grass, and the occasional butterfly that floated by. Anything to ground her, to distract her from the mind-fucking anxiety eating at her insides.
The end of the driveway, while only ten feet away, seemed like a mile. When she spotted the neighbor across the street, she froze. What if he noticed how anxious she was? What if he thought she was a fucking weirdo? What if he—gasp—spoke to her?
It was too much. She turned and ran the few feet back to safety, back to her prison, and slammed the door behind her. She sagged against the door, her heart thudding in her chest, the disappointment in her failure making her even more anxious. She ran to the medicine cabinet, popped the top on the Xanax, chewed two up, and swallowed them down.
Thirty minutes later, the sedating effects of the medication soothed her raw nerves. She sighed, grabbed her laptop, and pulled up the agoraphobia group. She clicked on the private message from Milo, a self-proclaimed reformed agoraphobic, with both excitement and dread. Excitement at chatting with him again. Dread at admitting her failure today.
Milo: Hey, Hot Stuff. How you doing today? Any progress? I hope so, because I really want to give you that birthday treat. :-)
Her body shivered, not from anxiety this time, but from the thought of the treat he’d give her. She hadn’t been touched by a man since she’d become housebound. She’d been chatting privately with Milo for a couple of months, and he’d recently proposed to her that if she made it beyond the end of the driveway by her fifty-first birthday, he’d bring her a cake and do all the salacious things with her that they’d chatted about. The thought made her tingle in all the right places.
Eden: I tried. Ran back in to take a Xanax. Can I have my treat anyway? Pretty please?
It only took him a minute to answer.
Milo: Don’t beat yourself up. It happens. But, if you took your medication, why are you still in the house? Try again.
Eden: But that’s cheating. I need to do it on my own.
Milo: Baby steps, baby. :-) You’ll make it without medication later. Do it now. Practice. Then come back and tell me about it.
She sighed, walked to the door, drew a deep breath, and took a few tentative steps before full-out running to the end of the driveway and back inside to safety. Sure, she could do that much while on the medication, but it wasn’t the same as doing it without.
Eden: Okay. Done.
Milo: You don’t sound too excited about it. Ya know, you need to celebrate every step you take no matter how small. I’m proud of you.
That little bit of praise lifted her spirits. He was right. Yeah, it might seem like nothing to some, but to her it was an accomplishment regardless of how small.
Eden: I’m going to treat myself to a cupcake.
Milo: Good. I gotta get back to work, but my dick will be hard for you later tonight. Be online at six wet and ready for me?
Eden: I will.
Milo: How wet?
Eden: Dripping.
Milo: Good girl.
It never failed to throw her off how he could go from counseling her on an anxiety disorder to sex talk in a matter of seconds. But she liked it. A lot.
In an effort to lift herself up a little more, she ate a strawberry-frosted cupcake and made another quick run to the end of the driveway while the medication was still dulling her senses. Maybe tomorrow she’d be able to do it without.
Two weeks later, Eden had finally made it—no medication—to the end of the driveway, and had even ventured about a half mile down the road on two occasions. She was nowhere near driving to a store yet, but she was becoming more and more confident that with Milo’s encouragement and her making those baby steps every day, it would happen eventually.
It was the morning of her birthday, and she was extra twitchy. Now t
hat the day was here, her mind rebelled at what she’d been looking forward to for months. Would Milo actually show up? What if he was a psycho? What if he wasn’t attracted to her in person? What if. What if. What if. If she never experienced another fucking what if thought again in her life, it would be too soon.
She paced around the house, practicing her deep breathing and visualization techniques, trying to shut out all the what ifs, but it wasn’t working. Why had she ever thought she’d be able to go through with this? It was too soon. She needed more time to build up more confidence.
Just as she was about to send a message to Milo calling it off, a knock at the door nearly made her jump out of her skin. He was early. The tremors immediately racked her body, familiar panic and fear rising up and threatening to choke her.
“Eden, I know you’re in there.”
Oh god, his voice. Even muffled by the door, the deep, gravelly sound made her quiver. And, of course, he knew she was there. Where else would she be?
“I’m sorry. I-I can’t,” she said against the door, her voice wavering from the lump forming in her throat.
Silence that probably only lasted a few seconds felt like an eternity.
“Okay,” he said. “I’m going to leave your cake out here. I’ll message you when I get home.”
That was it? He gave up that easily? Why was she so disappointed when she was the one who’d decided to not go through with it anyway? Shouldn’t she be relieved? No way. She’d been waiting for this, craving it with a soulsearing need.
She flung the door open, and before she could say a word or even focus her eyes on the man before her, he pulled her tight against him and kissed her senseless. Their tongues tangled and teased. He tasted of smooth coffee and cinnamon, and his masculine, earthy scent was a refreshment for her olfactory senses.
God yes. Human contact. It was dizzying, enchanting, and beautiful.
“You’re even more gorgeous in person,” he said against her lips.
“You too,” she replied, as she took in his intense gaze. The desire made his dark eyes shine like brilliant black diamonds.
Best Women's Erotica of the Year, Volume 4 Page 12