Sweet Queen

by Luna Maye

  He kneeled in front of her, resting his chin on her knees, his hands at her thighs and she could feel a breath of tension escape him as she let her fingertips glide through his hair.

  “I’ve got something I need to give you, share with you. I know it’s going to be hard, for both of us.” He let out a breath, working his eyes up to meet hers, sadness and anxiety swirling between his scrunched brows.

  “When my mom died, I remember my dad sitting me out here, just like this. He bundled me all up and I felt safe. When I realized Mom wasn’t coming home, he held me and told me everything would be all right and I believed him. When I realized I would need to give you this, doing it here in my safe place was the only solution that felt right. Felt like I could control how much comfort I could give you. And before I go get it, I want you to know that I love you. I loved you before the pregnancy, before I even realized it, before you popped out your sexy little hip and begged me to meet your needs; I saw you and I loved you. I just didn’t know it yet. You’re worthy of that love, of having someone, probably a much better man than me, beside you for the rest of your life, and I want to give that to you.”

  He looked like there was so much more he wanted to say. His mouth opened and closed a handful more times before he pushed off to stand, leaving her gently rocking and speechless in the face of his candor yet again. Pressing a soft kiss to her forehead, to each of her eyelids followed by the slightest brush against her lips, he moved backward, hustling down the front porch steps quickly, not mincing steps.

  And when he pulled something out of the console, shutting it with a resounding click, she sat up, peering over the porch railing and trying to identify the mystery object. But as she caught her first glance, her anticipation melted into the numbing cold of dread.

  29

  Shelli

  She knew. Before Cal rounded the front of the jeep, before she identified the coarse brown leather weighing heavy in his hands, before she looked up and met his eyes, weighted by concern and compassion, she just knew. It all came flooding back to her so quickly it stole her breath.

  Shelli hiked her legs up into the seat of the swing, curling in on herself instinctively, covering every spare, exposed bit of her all the way up to her eyes with the thick blanket. It smelled like Cal and the poignant interior of the cabin and she let it ground her. She was safe. She was loved. She was home. Every horror delineated in that thick little book was seated firmly in her past, never again to darken the doorstep of her present.

  As Cal walked quietly up the steps and gently settled in beside her, wrapping his arm around her in a cradling hold that squished her pleasantly against his side, he laid the book atop her knees, pressing it in place with his palm.

  “You recognize this?” She nodded, quietly working through how he got the book and access to the secrets it contained. Of course Mina didn’t burn it. Curse that woman for knowing her so well and loving her so fully. She’d owe her lots of cookies when they got home.

  “You know what it says?” She nodded again, words trying to worm their way out of her clenched jaw. Cal held her there for quiet minutes, just letting her soak up his warmth, his intoxicating smell and the gentle sway he kept up in the swing, one foot kicking back every so often to keep them in a steady motion. Finally, when she’d reviewed all of the evidence of the carefully pieced together notebook and her missing memories filtered into place, she raised her head up, looking at Cal directly for her question.

  “Do you know what it says?”

  He nodded, scrubbing on hand behind his neck in a sheepish gesture.

  “I read it last night, actually. I wanted it to be in order in case you needed to read it to remember, and Mina told me I couldn’t have it unless I was willing to live it with you, so to speak.” His eyes betrayed discomfort at the mention of her and Mina, and she almost smiled at the thought of him reading that little passage. She’d have to bring it up at a later, more appropriate time. But Cal was such a confident man, he was so protective and gentle with her right from the start, how had he been able to handle the brutality of the things she’d experienced? They were hard enough for her to face even after years of therapy and disciplined self-love.

  “How many things did you break?” That question caught him off guard, and a surprised bark of laughter came barreling out his throat. Tension eased off his shoulders, as he looked at her, taking in her curled in but fairly relaxed posture, her still-dry eyes.

  “Reina set me up with the punching bag in her shop and some Midol, which I strangely needed at one point.” He hugged her closer, one hand trailing down her leg and lightly brushing past her toes where they peeked out from under the cover. “Are you okay?”

  What a loaded question. Having years of painful, traumatizing memories thrust upon her in one fell swoop should have left her feeling distinctly not okay. But, strangely, the second time around, the memories were easier to process, like they fit into a comfortable little compartment deep in her brain made just for them. Without them something was missing, but with them, she had answers. It was ugly, sure. Uncomfortable? Yes, absolutely. But so much of her identity was bound up in those pages. It felt good, whole, to have them back again. Cal having read them — that was a different thing to process.

  “I think I’m okay.” She shifted a little to look up at him, resisting the urge to burrow further in to him and try to attach herself to his warm, soft side forever. “I remember, but I also remember dealing with the pain and giving myself time to heal and everything else.” She blushed lightly, vividly remembering her hunger for Cal from the beginning. It was one thing to read her words on the subject and quite another to relive it so quickly, so vibrantly in her mind as the memories returned.

  Her smug, satisfied smile faded a little as she remembered Cal’s knowledge of her abuse. He knew last night when he crawled in bed behind her, this morning when he voiced his love for their little one and when he declared his love for her. He’d been mired in the trenches with her through it all and yet here he sat, calmly comforting her, allowing her to process in a safe and quiet environment he thoughtfully provided for her. It was almost too much to take.

  “You know what happened to me, how I was used…” she paused unsure how to put her feelings into words, her voice cracking. “How can you love me or even want me? How can you trust someone like me to bring a child into the world after everything I’ve been through? Aren’t you disgusted? At least scared?”

  Cal turned her in the swing, pulling her legs across his knees and swinging her body in to him more fully, his hands gently kneading her thighs as he sat, pensively watching his hands moving over her. She felt like she might shatter if he didn’t answer soon. If he confirmed her worst fears — that she was empty, worthless and used — she knew she’d never be the same again.

  He cleared his throat and looked down at her. Meeting his eyes was one of the boldest, bravest moves of her life. It took physical effort to raise her head toward his, like a heavy weight sat on the tip of her chin. But the kindness, the love and adoration she saw in his eyes when she did were her true reward. His fingers grazed her chin, lovingly working their way up the side of her face and she leaned in to his touch.

  “How could I not want you? How could I be confronted with this amazing, incredibly beautiful woman who’s been irreparably damaged and yet has risen from the rubble, perfect and whole and lovely?” He stroked a hand down her hair, softly teasing his fingers through her loose strands and the sincerity, the awe on his handsomely lined face broke her apart piece by piece and built her back whole again in a breathless moment. She felt raw and open and vulnerable but loved. So fiercely and wholly loved for the first time in thirty-seven years.

  But Cal wasn’t content with just her utter destruction, her restoration — he wanted reciprocation. And he wouldn’t settle for anything less than all of her, forever. “How could I see you — really fully see you — and not want you as the mother of my children, my equal partner not just for now but for alwa
ys? I love you, Michelle Sutton.”

  Tears prickled at the corner of her eyes and she tried desperately to keep them at bay. She was all snot and sick slurping sounds whenever she lost control. Cal already knew every embarrassing detail of her life before New Mexico — she wouldn’t break down and expose him to her ugly crying so quickly after such a breathtaking declaration. She leaned up in her seat, the weight of everything he’d just revealed pressing the oxygen out of her lungs. She was uncomfortable, stretched thin in her battle against the surge of emotion pressing at her boundaries.

  “I…” She pressed a hand to her heart as if that slight pressure alone could hold it back from bursting out of the confines of her chest. Shelli threw off her blanket and set her feet on the rough floorboard of the aging porch as if to press of in a run, but she knew now that even fleeing the intensity of her emotions would only result in Cal giving chase, pursuing her relentlessly until she gave in, until she let all the love inside her for him, for their precious little child break free of the dams she built long ago. And that knowledge, of his dedication, his relentless affection, broke free every bit of her defenses once and for all and she flung herself into the safety and security of his arms.

  30

  Cal

  Cal thought he was ready for it. He’d been pressing for it so fully, so often, for so long that he hadn’t even realized how whole, how complete he would feel when he finally received it. Shelli’s love, her devotion, her surrender all hit him with a force almost as potent, as poignant as her sweet, petite little body striking him square in the chest. Her legs wrapped beside his hips as she settled, spread open over his lap, the porch swing gently groaning with the force of her sudden movement.

  Her arms flung around his neck, her sweet lips pressing kisses on his throat, his ears, his eyelids, the sensitive skin of his temples and even amidst his coarse beard. The soft little pecks grew wet with the tears now streaming down her face and he caressed her back softly, tenderly trying to infuse her with his strength.

  “I love you, I love you, I love you,” she whispered breathlessly with each kiss, pressing every square inch of surface area she could against him. Her kisses were a wild, claiming thing, owning him slowly inch-by-inch. He reveled in her affection and actively sought her mouth in its passionate pursuits, desperate to do a little claiming of his own.

  He caught her finally, on kiss number 34, his teeth taking possession of her preciously pouty lower lip and sucking it deep into his mouth. Her little cry of surprise opened her to him and he began his own onslaught.

  “I love you,” he thought as his tongue swept against her inner cheek.

  “I love you,” he thought as he tangled with her pink, sweet tongue.

  “I love you,” he thought as he pulled her closer, held her tighter, felt her more fully against him than ever before.

  “That’s it baby girl,” he whispered as he broke free. “Come here. Let it all out. Let me take some of the burden for you.”

  “I love you so much. We’re having a baby. I almost died.” She pulled back looking him in the eye, her brows furrowing adorably. “How have you stayed so calm this whole time?”

  He laughed out loud at that, his broken laughter echoing a little out in the silent meadow. She thought he’d been calm through all of this? Him?

  “Baby girl, look at these knuckles.” He held his hound out so she could see the deep bruises and broken skin from the night before dotting the tops of his hands. “I’ve been anything but calm during all of this. But, I wanted to be strong for you.”

  He could see the problems she had with that statement already brewing in her eyes. His Shelli was naturally submissive, but she had a willful spirit and she loved to test his control.

  “Hey now, I…”

  “Shhh, baby. I know you had it handled. But if it were me who lost my memories, you’d want to be strong for me. This love business goes both ways, you know. We’re equal.”

  She wiped her eyes, drawing up the tip of his loose t-shirt to dab her tears away. Her reddened eyes and pink nose only made her more perfect in his mind, but she was an easily distracted little thing. When the cool air hit his abs he unintentionally flexed against it and her gaze grew heated at once, drawing a hot line from the top of his exposed abdomen lower to the fly of his worn-in jeans. The air grew thick and he swore he could smell the dense, dark floral scent of her arousal as her sheepish little grin turned mischievous. Her fingertips came down to caress his exposed flesh and he jolted, unprepared for the heaven of her soft fingertips.

  “So, if we’re equals in this, does that mean I get to boss you around sometimes, the way you like to boss me?”

  He played dumb, holding in his smile at her sweet suggestion and lifting a brow in question.

  “Now what do you mean, baby girl? You’re a strong, independent woman. I don’t boss you around.”

  A startled laugh broke free from her and he relished the joyful sound, letting her growing smile and her wandering fingers meet him in a warm caress.

  “Uhh, pretty sure you did boss me around during sex. You were all baby girl do this and baby girl stop that. Plus, I’m pretty sure you slapped me on the ass.” Her cheeks heated at that memory and he hated to burst her kinky little bubble, but he made some promises last night he was bound to keep.

  “No can do, baby girl. After I read your journal I made myself a promise that you’d be getting a minimum of an hour of foreplay a day and only slow, sweet sex from here on out.” Her harsh gasp lit him on fire and he was sure she could fill him swelling beneath her.

  “What the hell, Cal? That’s not fair.” She pressed back from him further, a spark of desire evident in her eyes. Her upper body posture shown with indignation, but her lower body unconsciously ground against him, pressing harder and growing hotter with each brush of the swing.

  “Don’t knock it till you try it, baby girl.” He whisked her up, hitching her higher on his hips and encouraging her legs to wrap around his back. Her hands naturally clung to him and try as she might to look stern; she only looked all the more appealing, more edible even, to him. He stalked purposefully through the front door despite her half-hearted protests.

  “But, Cal…” His hearing switched off to anything but the satisfied little breaths she took as she continued to grind against him. He flung open the screen door, allowing it to slam carelessly behind him as he prowled toward the largest bedroom at the back of the cabin. They had redressed the room earlier with fresh sheets and opened the windows to air out the warm left-sitting smell of the place. He was about to make good use of their efforts.

  When he crossed the threshold, Shelli was already throwing herself into a fever pitch against him, having quickly abandoned her protests. The frantic pulse of her hips against his let him know she was close, too close yet for his liking. He pushed her away from him by her hips, smiling through the sharp wine she gave off at her fun being spoiled. He laid her gently on the bed, right in the middle like an offering, and stepped back, stripping off his shirt as he went.

  “Now, now baby girl. I said I’d give you foreplay, I didn’t say if I’d let you come,” He tsked like a disapproving school marm as he unbuttoned his jeans and slid down the zipper. Her hungry gaze trailed down the smattering of chest hair to the lean v of his hips and further to the skin exposed by his lowered zipper, where her eyes rested as she licked her lips like a hungry kitten. “Take that top off, baby girl. I’m not just your eye candy. Or, do you want help?” Her eyes flared with a wicked heat at the suggestion, but she slipped her light green t-shirt over her head nonetheless. Her bra underneath was tan and utilitarian with little bits of lace around the cups. But seeing her there, in a regular bed, in her plain every-day bits of lingerie triggered his every fantasy of the two of them together, each day, forever.

  She shyly but quickly went for the clasp behind her back, looking to him for approval and permission he was happy to provide, as she worked the straps of the contraption down her slender, perfect
ly decorated arms. He stood, hands on his hips, watching her like a patron in an art museum — studiously fixating on her curves and marveling in the secrets they revealed. His muscles felt achy and tense as she dropped the bra to the floor and her soft smile at him as he watched her nipples stiffen and redden into enticing little peaks under his gaze nearly caused him to come unwound. But, he would have restraint and he would fulfill this promise to himself, to her, at least once before he introduced the sexy spice of variety back into her life.

  He prowled toward the bed, purposeful and prideful as he watched his precious, perfect little Shelli lay back and squirm against the pristine white sheets. Her upper body rose up to meet him as he stepped forward and it only took one heated glare for her to sink back down, her hands obediently at her sides. Her quick compliance aroused him all the more and he sped up as he neared the bed, kneeling at the foot and sliding her toward him by a light grip on her ankles.

  “Cal!” She squealed and giggled and it filled him with joy as he pressed a light kiss to her lower belly, allowing his beard to drag over her soft skin and illicit another breathless laugh. Her stomach shifted to the side to try to avoid his ticklish assault and so he continued further down, sliding off her stretchy athletic shorts with one smooth push. The sight of her bare, perfect pussy, glimmering with arousal, set of a primal growl from within him and he leapt in. His tongue lapped up the thick cream at her center, his fingers playing a delicate dance over her clit as he ate at her ravenously. Then, when her squirming and pleading got out of control, he pulled back sitting up to meet her hazy, lust struck eyes peering up at him.

  “I’m sorry, baby girl, I said I’d give you foreplay but I never said I would allow you to come. You’re going to hold out until I say so. Got me?” Her angry, scrunched nose glare and open mouth were enough of a response, so he dove back in, this time switching up with his fingers in her pussy and his lips and tongue on her clit. When her little frustrated whimpers grew too loud and her hand pressing against his head got to insistent, he pulled back again and restarted the process.