by R. R. Banks
He looks over at me and smiles. “As long as I have you sitting next to me, I feel great,” he says. “Never better. How are you feeling?”
“Still processing a lot,” I say. “But I think I'm okay.”
“And Rachel?”
“I talked to her today,” I say. “She's doing really well all things considered.”
Rachel was a runaway who'd been lured to the Ark with the promise of drugs. Raymond had gladly provided her with plenty of drugs for a while. Got her hooked long enough for him to start breaking her down. But after the rescue, we found her parents and put her on a plane back to Ohio.
“She's probably going to need a lot of therapy,” he says.
“Yeah, I have no doubts about that.”
He looks at me again and takes my hand. “You know, if you'd like to see somebody – talk about what happened,” he says. “I can ask around. I'm sure I can find a good therapist who might be able to help you through all of this.”
I give him a small smile. “Thank you,” I say. “I might just take you up on that.”
“I hope you do,” he says. “I think it would be good for you.”
“How is Vance doing with all of this?” I ask. “I mean, he really went out on a limb.”
He chuckles. “I think that deep down, Vance liked lying to the cops,” I say. “I think he likes feeling like he's an outlaw or something. Thus, the peril of suburban life – you have to lie to the cops to feel alive.”
“I'll have to keep that in mind,” I say and smile. “But you know what else might make me feel alive?”
“What's that?”
I bite my bottom lip and trace the tip of my finger across his bare chest. Leaning down I kiss his chest, running the tip of my tongue around his nipples, gently sucking on them, drawing a soft moan from him. Looking back up at him, I smile.
“A much better way to feel alive than lying to the cops,” he says.
I lean forward and kiss him, putting every ounce of energy and passion behind it. I'm not very good with my words, so I try to convey my feelings for him through my kiss. Our tongues swirl and dance in his mouth and I rake my fingernails up his chest.
Eric's hand is in my hair, gently pulling on it, the fire in our kiss growing more intense. I move forward and he winces, sucking in a deep breath. I'd accidentally leaned on his wound and could see the pain in his face.
“Oh, God,” I say. “I'm sorry.”
“It's okay,” he says.
I kiss him gently again and carefully maneuver around his wound. He runs his hand down my back and I feel him gently cupping my ass. I kiss his neck and then plant a line of kisses all the way down to his chest. He squirms beneath me, his breath catching in his throat as I slip my hand beneath the waistband of his shorts and take his hard cock in my hand, squeezing it firmly.
I slip off of the couch and kneel down before him. He raises his hips and I slide his shorts down his legs, casually tossing them aside. I lock eyes with him, holding his gaze, as I run my fingernails up and down the shaft of his cock. He sucks in another breath – not in pain this time – as I tease the head of his stiff prick with my fingertips.
Gripping the base of his cock firmly, I lean forward, letting my warm breath wash over the head of it. I can see the hunger and desire in his eyes. But more than that, I can still see him looking at me like I'm the most beautiful woman in the world. That look alone, ignites the fire inside of me and makes me grow wet.
Keeping my gaze locked on his, I run the very tip of my tongue around the head of his dick, licking the sensitive spot on the underside of it roughly. His body twitches and he moans as I slide my hand up and down his shaft while I circle the head of his cock with my tongue. And when I take it in my mouth, he gasps audibly.
My hand still locked on his shaft, stroking him up and down, I start to work my mouth in concert with it. Our eyes are still locked as I work on him with my hand and my mouth at the same time and the sound of his moaning is driving me crazy and making me grow even hotter and wetter.
“Oh God, Calee,” he gasps. “You are amazing.”
Up and down I work my hand and mouth on his cock, harder and faster. The muscles in his legs grow tight and his body tenses as I keep sucking and stroking him. His breathing starts to grow a little ragged, he's gritting his teeth, and he has a nearly crazed look in his eyes. I know that I can push him over the edge with a flick of my tongue if I wanted to.
But I want him inside of me. Need to feel him filling me up.
Taking his dick out of my mouth, I give him a salacious grin. Standing up, I pull down the shorts I'm wearing and take off my shirt, tossing them both aside with his shorts. I climb onto his lap, straddling him, and wrap my arms around his neck. I kiss him with every ounce of desire I can muster and slide myself against him, relishing the feel of his cock pressing against the hot, wet center of me.
His hands are on my ass, pulling and squeezing – he's desperate to be inside of me. Lucky for him, I'm desperate to have him inside of me. I lower myself down onto his cock, sliding down every glorious inch of him until he's fully sheathed inside of me. I throw my head back and cry out, savoring the feel of having his cock so deep in me.
Slowly, I start to rock myself back and forth on his cock, grinding myself against him. Eric leans forward and starts to lick and suck on my breasts and gives my nipples a firm little bite. I squeal in delight as the sensations rocket through my body.
I take hold of his shoulders and start to bounce myself up and down on him, sliding up and down his hard shaft, igniting an explosion of sensation inside of me. I kiss him hard as I ride him and our movements become more frantic. More urgent. It's the first time we've made love since the rescue and it feels like what we're doing right now transcends sex.
The bond and connection that has been growing between us is solidifying. Deepening. Starting to become unbreakable. Knowing that he loves me – and that I love him – makes the sensations coursing through me all the sharper. All the more intense. And I've never felt the sort of pleasure I feel having him so deep inside of me before.
He starts to stand up, wanting to pick me up, but I put my hands on his chest and force him back down. I smile and bite my bottom lip, continuing to bounce myself up and down on his cock.
“Jean said, no strain on the wound until it heals completely,” I say between breaths. “That means no lifting or excessive movement. Besides, it's time for me to take care of you.”
His hands are squeezing my ass good and hard as I bounce myself harder, impaling myself upon his thick shaft. I cry out as wave after wave of pleasure rolls through me. I feel the pressure building up low in the center of me and it keeps building toward a crescendo the harder and faster I ride him. It's not long before I feel an explosion of pleasure go off in me. I cry out, calling his name, and feel my movements lose all rhythm and control as my orgasm tears through me.
I'm pulsing and throbbing as I come, the sensation of his cock inside of me as I do making it all the more intense. Eventually, the sensations pass and leave me feeling incredible, but a little lightheaded. I lean forward, putting my head on his shoulder and try to catch my breath.
“That was the most amazing orgasm I've ever had,” I say.
“Stand up,” he says softly.
I do as he says and get to my feet. He also stands and leads me to the side of the couch. He gives me a smile as he bends me over the arm of it and steps forward. With hand on his good side, he pins both of my arms behind my back. I look back at him over my shoulder and smile salaciously.
“I guess you're in command again?” I purr.
“You know it.”
With one hard thrust, Eric buries himself deep inside of me, making me cry out. He starts to thrust his hips, driving himself inside of me harder and faster. The feeling of him slamming into me and filling me up so completely stokes the fires inside of me. I've never been held down the way he is and it makes me feel a little out of control. A little powerless. And while
that should freak me out, with him, it feels good. It feels erotic. And I feel myself growing hotter, wetter, as my hunger for him only intensifies.
“Yes, baby,” I moan. “Just like that. Yes. God, yes.”
The sound coming from Eric is almost a growl as he pounds himself into me again and again. With the doors of the great room open, I can hear the sound of the waves crashing outside blending seamlessly with our cries of pleasure and the sound of our bodies colliding, creating an erotic music that's entirely intoxicating to me.
“God, Calee,” he gasps. “You're so fucking tight. You feel so good.”
He drives himself deep into me and I call out his name. My skin feels like its on fire and my every nerve ending has been set ablaze. As he continues to drive himself into me, the pressure inside of me continues to build again as he pushes me closer and closer to the brink.
Eric's breathing is becoming more ragged and his body is tensing. I know he's close. I look over my shoulder at him and push back, taking him deeper into me, making both of us cry out.
“Come for me, Eric,” I say. “Come for me, baby.”
He gives me one last, hard thrust that sets off another explosion in me at the same time I feel his body tense up. He cries out, his moans filling the room around us. And a moment later, I feel his cock pulsing and throbbing inside of me, which is quickly followed by the feel of his warm, wet seed shooting deep into me. I moan as his spunk fills me up completely – and the feeling of it is what pushes me over the edge.
I cry out, calling his name, as another orgasm – this one, even more intense than the first – erupts within me. I feel my body spasming and trembling as I come. The sensations rushing through me are intense – almost to the point of it being uncomfortable. But that bit passes quickly and I'm left swimming in a pool of absolute orgasmic bliss.
All good things come to an end though, and my orgasm fades, leaving me feeling wrung out, but incredibly satisfied. I drop down onto the couch and Eric sits down beside me. Laying my head on his chest, I idly run my fingertips across the skin of his flat stomach.
“I could do that all night,” I say, my breathing beginning to slow.
He chuckles softly. “Maybe you can give me a couple of minutes to recover?”
I look at him and smile. “A couple of minutes,” I say.
“I love you, Calee.” he says.
My eyes fill with tears as my heart fills with joy. “And I love you, Eric.”
Epilogue
One Year Later...
“He has your eyes,” I say. “Dark. Soulful. Deep.”
Calee looks at me and smiles. “Think so?”
I nod. “Definitely.”
We're standing next to the crib in the room we'd converted into a nursery looking down at her son – our son – Caleb. He's a beautiful baby. Happy, always smiling, doesn't cry very often – I like to think it's because he feels secure. Because he knows he's loved.
He's a few months old now and is growing like the proverbial weed. And I have to say that motherhood suits Calee. She has a glow about her and a new energy. She's excited and hopeful. Optimistic.
It's still sometimes hard for me to believe that a little more than a year ago, when I met her, she was lost. Looked empty. Looked like she had nothing to live for. Hell, it looked like she might not really want to live at all.
But that was then and this is now. She has the love of two men – myself and Caleb – to help keep her going.
“How did I get so lucky?” she asks. “To not only have such a perfect baby, but to have such a perfect husband?”
“I don't know,” I say. “I ask myself that same question all the time – how did you get so lucky?”
She giggles and slaps my arm playfully. I understand the sentiment though. I often wonder how I got so lucky to have stumbled onto somebody like Calee. My life was forever altered the night I met her – it just took me a little while to realize it.
Calee definitely helped fill whatever dark void existed in me. She completes me in ways I never knew I need to be completed. She makes me want to be a better man. A better doctor. A better husband. Because of her, I feel genuinely happy and content in my life. Maybe for the first time ever, I'm at peace.
“Good morning.”
We turn as Alma steps into the room and stands next to us at the crib.
“Good morning,” Calee and I say in unison.
“How did you sleep?” I ask.
“Like a baby,” Alma says and then giggles as if she just realized what she'd said.
Alma is living on the third floor of the house now. We hired her just a couple of days ago to help with Caleb. It was a decision that genuinely pained Calee – she doesn't like being away from our little boy. She wants to mother him around the clock – but she's got other things going on. Other priorities.
She looks at me and I recognize the uncertainty in her eyes. I recognize it because I've seen it a million times and we've had the discussion we're about to have the same number of times before.
“Yes, this is a good idea,” I say. “No, you're not a bad mother.”
Alma smiles. “You're not a bad mother at all, Calee,” she says. “You're one of the most attentive, caring mothers I've ever seen.”
“See? Listen to Alma,” I say. “She's wise beyond her years.”
“Then why do I feel like I'm abandoning him?” she asks.
“Because you're used to being around him twenty-four/seven,” I say. “And because you are a very good mother.”
Shortly after we got back from Wyoming, Calee took the test and earned her GED. She was bursting with pride the day she got the results. But given that she was becoming very pregnant, she knew she needed to wait until after the baby was born to do anything with it. To fill her time, she poured every ounce of energy she had into the baby.
But now, Caleb had been born and is a part of our world. She'd nursed him and cared for him exclusively for a while, and now it's time for her to do what she always dreamed of doing – getting her college education. I've been encouraging her to take the plunge for a little while, so I'm beyond ecstatic to see that she's finally doing it.
And I'm not going to let her back out of it because she's getting cold feet about it.
“Honey,” I say. “Caleb is in excellent hands. And it's not like you're going to be gone for weeks at a time. You'll be gone a few hours a day. At most. And after that, you are free to come back home and smother our child to your heart's content.”
She laughs. “I do not smother him.”
I shrug. “Yeah, you kinda smother.”
“I do not!”
“Alma?” I say. “Back me up here. Does Calee smother our baby?”
With Caleb in her arms – and her studiously not looking at us – Alma carries him over to the doorway and then turns back to us, a mischievous glint in her eyes.
“I'm not going to touch that one with a ten-foot pole,” she says and laughs. “That question is a no-win situation for me.”
“I'll take your abstention from answering as a positive response,” I call after her.
Calee steps to me, taking my hand in hers. “Maybe I should wait,” she says. “Maybe the time isn't right and –”
“Sweetheart, the time is never going to be absolutely perfect,” I say. “There's always going to be something that comes up. You need to just take the bull by the horns and do it. I believe in you, Calee. You can do this.”
“But it's such a –”
I hold up my hand to cut her off. “The time is as perfect as it's going to get,” I say. “We have excellent care for Caleb when you're not here. And you have some goals and dreams you want to pursue. It's time you start thinking about what you want to do.”
She says nothing but I can see the conflict on her face – she's torn between wanting to be a good mother and chasing down her dreams.
“One thing you need to understand,” I say. “Is that you can be both – mother of the year and a college student. E
specially since we have Alma here to back you up.”
“You're right,” she says, nodding. “In my head, I know you're right. I'm just scared.”
I take her by the shoulders gently and look deeply into her eyes. “It's understandable. Starting off on a new venture – especially one you dreamed about for so long can be scary. Intimidating,” I say. “But you also need to know that you are one of the most courageous people I've ever met. To have lived through all you lived through – to have endured what you did – that takes a steel spine that ninety-nine percent of people don't have. There is more strength and courage in you than in most people I meet, Calee. This? School? It's nothing. You got this. You got this easy.”
“What if I fail?” she asks softly, looking up at me with fear in her dark eyes.
“You're not going to fail,” I say. “You're going to excel. I know you are. You're way smarter than you give yourself credit for, you know. But also, you can't fail unless you quit or you don't try to begin with. Those are the only two ways you can fail. Anything else is just a setback.”
Her smile is wide and her eyes are shimmering with tears as she steps forward and embraces me tightly.
“Thank you,” she says softly. “For everything. Especially the pep talk.”
“You're going to be amazing.”
We stand, holding one another, for a few more moments, relishing the feel of one another. Finally, she steps back and looks me in the eye, giving me a nod. Picking her backpack up off the floor by the crib, she slings it over her shoulder.
“I'm off then,” she says.
“You're going to kill it.”
Her smile melts my heart. “Again, how did I get so lucky?”
“I really don't know,” I say. “But you most certainly did.”
She slaps me on the arm again, laughing. She gives me a quick, chaste kiss and turns to go. Pausing at the door, she turns back to me.
“I love you, Eric Galloway.”
“And I love you, Calee,” I say. “More than you can possibly ever understand.”
THE END