Beyond Repair (Deeper Than Desire)

by Charlotte Stein

  He knew, that was the thing. He knew far more than he ever seemed to and much more than she’d ever said—as if he saw right to the heart of her without any explanations at all. She could say she was just not experienced or act as though she only wanted to touch him. She could try to distract him from serious things, with sex.

  It didn’t matter. Underneath, he understood.

  But even sweeter...he never let her see he did.

  He let her have all her hidden things.

  “I don’t? I really don’t?”

  “Of course not. It’ll be easy—I promise. Here, just come here to me. Come on, it’s okay,” he said, though she wasn’t expecting what he did once she’d agreed. She went to him trembling and wary, sure he was going to just dive in right there and then on the hallway floor, and instead he...he...

  He scooped her into his arms.

  He carried her up the stairs.

  He laid her out on the bed so sweetly, so sweetly, arranging her nightgown for her in a way that left her untroubled, one reassuring hand stroking over her hair. Then just when it was almost too much too bear—just as she was about to tell him she didn’t need him to be so careful or to make her better, that maybe she didn’t even deserve it, he made everything all right again.

  He made it all right with filthy, filthy sex.

  “Spread your legs,” he said, and suddenly her body was alive with arousal again. He just did it so low and husky, with the barest hint of demand. And he used the word spread—oh God, why was the word spread so damn good? It practically made her hair stand on end.

  It definitely made her do it.

  She couldn’t go far because of the constraints of her nightgown, but as it turned out she didn’t need to. He managed pretty well with them parted a little, because he didn’t really go for the rudest parts. He just sort of rubbed idly over the uppermost bit in a way that hardly seemed to count. It was almost her belly, in truth.

  So why did it feel like the horniest, hottest thing in the world?

  She didn’t know, she didn’t know. The only thing she fully understood was how it made her feel to see him do it. To watch him watching her as he rubbed her so slowly and deliberately, as if he just knew what it would do. He knew he was teasing her, spreading her open, getting her ready for more—though even he seemed shocked by her reaction. She saw his eyes flash bright when she bucked, and he moaned to see her twist her head into the pillow. Then just as she managed to get some kind of rational hold on herself, he did it again.

  Of course he did. He wanted to see more. He wanted her to make that sound again, and boy did she make it. This time he wasn’t careful about the hand he had between her legs. He stroked her deeply, roughly, fingers near forcing the material between the plump lips of her pussy, and the sound that came out of her hit obscene.

  It was almost a panicked protest, breath catching in her throat over the sheer unbearable intensity of it. She couldn’t take this, she couldn’t—he was going to kill her with sensation. He’d barely touched her clit but barely was more than enough, and especially after he’d said things.

  Oh he was saying a lot of things.

  “Fuuuuccckkk, does it really feel that good? Are you that turned-on?” he asked, but he didn’t really require an answer. He got what he needed a moment later, once he’d really worked that material over her slippery folds and her slick little hole. She knew he had, because he went very still suddenly. And she could feel him looking.

  She had her eyes shut, but she could feel it.

  “Jesus Christ, you’re soaking wet. Seriously, have you been going around with all this between your legs? I can feel it through fucking flannel, honey. Oh my God, I can feel it through flannel,” he said, the first words almost steady and sure and the last ones like nothing she’d ever heard before.

  His voice went up and down. He couldn’t seem to breathe.

  He kept right on talking, however. He had to, apparently. Things like extreme embarrassing arousal needed lots of comments, and he made them until her face burned hot. Until she was sure she wanted him to stop, even as her body begged him not to. Man, her body loved to hear him talk about her slipperiness, her state of crazy excitement, and finally oh finally oh God she could hardly stand it...

  “I can feel your clit too. Your clit’s all swollen and stiff...man that’s fucking hot to feel. I had no idea, you know. I had no idea you wanted it this much—why didn’t you tell me?” he asked, and for the first time she wasn’t really sure. The reasons had seemed solid at the time...her scarred body, her nervousness, his status, her need to just focus on him instead of herself...

  They’d all made sense when she’d thought of them.

  But they made very little now that she could feel what she’d been missing. All he had to do was crook one finger—just let the tip of it find the underside of her clit—and sensation sparked along her spine. It made a fist low down in her belly, so fierce she could hardly accept it. Her teeth clacked together, every muscle tensing, and again she had the urge to tell him no.

  No, I can’t take it, she thought of saying, only somehow she ended up doing the opposite. Her body simply took over—much to his delight and amusement.

  “Yeah, yeah, you like that, huh? Oh yeah you like that—go on, go on, take it. Take as much as you want,” he said, while she slowly processed what she’d started doing. She could hardly believe it but there it was anyway—somewhere in the middle of all this, she’d started rocking against his hand.

  Not even just rocking, really. She was actively getting herself off, hips rolling in the lewdest way possible, body tensing and releasing with the effort. It was utterly mortifying to realize and completely beyond the pale...but dear Lord did it feel amazing. She didn’t care, she didn’t care, it felt fucking fantastic. She almost sobbed when he pulled his hand away.

  Then did actually sob when he put it back.

  She hadn’t the faintest clue what was worse. Getting what she wanted or not getting it...and all with a background buzz of oh my god he’s teasing me. Because he definitely was—she could see it all over his face. He wanted to drive her nuts just like she’d driven him nuts, even though hers hadn’t been on purpose.

  Didn’t it count that hers hadn’t been on purpose?

  She hadn’t meant to do it, and she certainly wouldn’t have if she’d known how fucking agonizing it could be. It was like climbing to the top of a mountain only to discover there was another bigger mountain behind it. It was like biting into a bar of chocolate and finding only empty air.

  It was like all those things, if all those things had also been completely awesome.

  Good God, it was awesome. He didn’t even have to touch her now to make that tingling, buzzing sensation happen. He just had to hover his fingertips over the now-damp and very rude-looking place between her legs, almost descending when he got to her embarrassingly obvious clit but then darting away at the last second.

  And just when she was sure it couldn’t get any more intense...just when her whole body felt like one big ball of tension...he leaned down. He leaned down as though he were going to lick her there. He even turned his head a little and parted his lips, tongue peeking out to wet the top one—like a goddamn hint, like a suggestion.

  But thank Christ he backed away.

  She didn’t know what would have happened if he’d actually done it.

  And then he just went ahead and fucking did it. He mouthed at her through the material, so soft it should have felt like nothing. Only it didn’t, it didn’t, Lord in heaven it didn’t. She felt every inch of those plump lips pushing against her pussy. She felt the flicker of his tongue dragging over that flannel in a way that was somehow more unbearable than if she hadn’t been wearing anything at all.

  It was almost like getting a double touch—the hint of wetness and heat from his tongue, and then the maddening pull of damp material as he eased it over her clit. She didn’t know how to take any of it. This time she did tell him no, don’t, stop, but
as she had a hand in his hair at the time—and that hand was definitely not pushing him away—it didn’t have quite the desired effect.

  Instead he laughed, to hear her saying no while pulling him closer. “Are you sure about that?” he asked, and for one horrible moment she was sure he was going to torment her with her indecision. She went rigid waiting for it, waiting for him to pull back a little and tease her until she died. It would have been easy. She was half-dead already.

  So it was a relief when he chose a different path. He held her gaze, as mischievous and devilish as she’d ever seen him, and then he licked again. He covered her pussy with his mouth and he nuzzled—which sounded like nothing on paper but felt like being on fire in practice.

  She had to tighten that hand in his hair just to get through it. Her whole body stuttered, as if he’d attached her to the mains. And the sounds she made...the moans and grunts and incoherent encouragements... They were just beyond anything she’d ever heard from her own mouth.

  At one point, she was pretty sure she told him to rub her clit. Of course it came out mmm mm mmmmmm, but the sentiment was definitely there. Maybe more than the sentiment was there, because once she’d pushed those semi-words out he did just that. He used his tongue and his lips and finally his fingers, stroking over her in this insanely intense exploratory way when the other things weren’t quite enough.

  He found the exact shape of that stiff little bud, circling and circling until she wasn’t sure how she hadn’t come yet. She’d been on the edge for what seemed like forever, yet still nothing. It almost felt as though she were waiting for something, though she couldn’t quite figure out what that was.

  More of this? More of that?

  Nothing seemed quite right—until he moved back up the bed. Until he said, I want to kiss you as you come. Then it was enough. He pressed his lips to hers, eyes open all the time and just looking and looking as he stroked her into that first surge. The one that always took her by surprise, before petering off into nothing.

  It didn’t peter off into nothing here, however. Another one followed that first spike of pleasure, far stronger than any she’d ever known. It would have forced a gasp out of her, if there hadn’t been a third delicious wave to contend with. If she hadn’t been drowning in everything that was already happening, struck dumb by the intensity and the force of it and his gaze still locked with hers.

  Oh that gaze of his...

  Did he understand what that did to her? That it was those eyes of his that took her breath, that made her silent, that pushed her orgasm to new heights? It was the way he looked at her that forced a sob at the last second, full of all the helplessness she suddenly felt. She had to grab hold of him and hang on, and part of her hated him for that. Mostly because she knew then that she loved him.

  But also because he quite clearly knew it too.

  Chapter Nine

  It took her a moment to realize what she was hearing. For one sleep-fogged second she was sure she was still dreaming, because reality didn’t usual come with an ’80s electro-synth soundtrack of the kind her mum used to love so much. It was only when she was unconscious that Kyle Reese decided to save her from killer robots from the future, while Brad Fiedel thundered in the background. Usually when she woke up, those things faded away.

  But not today—no, on this particular day her home was flooded with it. That haunting theme rolled up the stairs and thrummed through the bedroom, so sweet and strong it made her ache. It wasn’t The Terminator, however. He wasn’t watching anything so easy to attribute to a guy like him.

  He was watching Starman.

  She had no idea why—out of all the thousands of movies she had—but he was doing it just the same. She couldn’t even pretend he’d left it on for her, before maybe slipping out the door. He was never going to just slip out of the door, no matter how weirdly she imagined him doing it. He wasn’t the kind of guy to do that. She saw it very clearly now, more clearly than she’d been willing to before.

  He was the kind of guy who watched sad movies at 6:00 a.m., with the soundtrack turned way, way up. He was the kind of guy who said, Hey, hey come here quick this is my favorite part when she got to the doorway to the living room, so engrossed he didn’t see what was weird about this—either that or he didn’t care. He’d probably wanted her to wake up and come down and do this with him.

  That was the kind of guy he was.

  “Come on, come on,” he said, waving her over in a way that suggested yet another lovely thing. Once she got there, he was going to put his arm around her. Did he realize that he always put his arm around her when they watched stuff together? Probably not. She hadn’t even realized she stroked the back of his neck the way he’d said she did.

  They were just the little touches and caresses that they’d accumulated, over two weeks of intense intimacy. Two short weeks that could have been a thousand years, for all the things she felt as she settled down to watch with him. She felt safe. She felt secure. The worries from the day before fell away.

  For a little while, at least.

  A very tiny while.

  “They think I’m dead, you know.”

  He said it matter-of-factly, the way most people might say the weather’s meant to be fine tomorrow. He didn’t glance away from the screen to give it a little extra importance. He just kept staring and staring straight ahead, as though to say, Starman is of more significance to me than this news.

  And she believed him too. It seemed as if he really meant this indifference, despite that being a complete contradiction in terms. When she didn’t answer he didn’t say anything more, and after a while he began commenting on the movie. “I had such a crush on Karen Allen as a kid,” he said, and suddenly she was thinking of completely different things too—like the fact that he probably wasn’t old enough to have had a crush on Karen Allen. He was only twenty-seven. Surely Cameron Diaz would have been more his speed? But then again he did like the classics.

  He must mean when she was in Raiders of the Lost Ark, she thought, then wanted to shake herself for going off on this tangent with him. Had he really just said that people thought he was dead, or had she dreamed it?

  “Bernie, are you serious?”

  “About Karen—”

  “No, not about Karen Allen. Having a crush on Karen Allen is a perfectly understandable and ordinary thing. Being dead to the people in your life is not.”

  “I’m pretty sure you know I don’t really have any people in my life. Or at least, none that I care about. And certainly none that care about me.”

  “Even so...you didn’t say anything to anyone?”

  “Did you really think I had? Was that what you imagined?”

  “I don’t know what I imagined. I thought I should maybe just try to give you space to work things out, you know? Not badger you about it. I mean you pretended your phone wasn’t working, so I just figured you wanted to be free of all that....”

  “You saw me do that and you didn’t even feel like calling me on it?”

  “Why would I call you on it? You didn’t do anything wrong. It’s okay to want a break from everything, you know. It’s okay to be tired of your life.”

  He did glance at her then—for obvious reasons. He wanted her to see the gratitude in his eyes, and she did. There was no need to add anything or make it all clearer, not even if she kind of wanted to. I’m tired too, she wanted to say, but instead found herself just going with something light and carefree.

  “So are you all over the news? Holden Stark Has Possibly Sexed Himself to Death, Says Unnamed Dubious Source.”

  “Are you the dubious source in this scenario?”

  “You haven’t sexed yourself to death with me.”

  “I dunno. Yesterday was a close thing.”

  “I swear I didn’t mean to give you that second blowjob.”

  “So your face just fell on my penis?”

  “Yeah that. That is what happened.”

  “Is that your official comment for TMZ?
”

  “No my official comment is he keeps letting me.”

  He laughed then, but she could hear the faint sadness behind it. This wasn’t like having a discussion about who was the best Thundercat. This was like having a discussion about reality, and reality sucked. It always had and it always would, and just to prove it his laughter started to wilt. His smile wavered, then drooped, then finally disappeared altogether.

  And then they were left with the cold, hard truth.

  “You know I gotta go, right?”

  Of course he did, of course he did. What other end could there be to this? She’d always been pretty clear in her own mind that they couldn’t remain like this forever, what with his career just waiting out there for him and real life buzzing beyond her front door—the very idea of shutting themselves in here to infinity was fucking nuts. She was certain it was, right up until the point where he added more words.

  He added more impossible, unbelievable words.

  “Unless you want me to stay?” he asked, after which she wasn’t sure what to think or say or do. She expected a surge of happiness—that was the problem. She had been prepared for disappointment and he wasn’t giving it to her, so there should have been some happiness here. Some sense of relief that finally, finally things had turned out in the best possible way for her.

  Things never turned out in the best possible way for her.

  This was supposed to be a goddamn revelation.

  Yet somehow it wasn’t, it wasn’t.

  She found herself swallowing thickly instead—as though there was something heavy and dry low down in her throat. And the words she’d planned to say in this situation simply slid away, despite how good they sounded in her head. I want you to stay here forever, she thought, and just couldn’t go with it.

  She did want him to stay here forever.

  But the truth was...what if he did? What then? For a start the world would end up viewing him as some kind of hermit mental case—just like they probably did her, if they ever still thought about the girl she’d been. And then there was the question of what they would do together, with eternity.