penance. a love story (The Böhme Series)
Page 30
She ran her cheek against mine and then kissed my ear. I traced my thumb across her nipple and she breathed softly and whispered, “Don’t stop, please.”
I let out a laugh. “I’m not going to, ever.” I lifted my head from hers and kissed her lips. As I continued to rub along her nipple, she could no longer hold her eyes open as they continued to close in the ecstasy I was causing in her. I lowered my mouth to the same nipple I had touched and let my tongue trace around it. It surprised me, how much she reacted to that. It was more of a reaction than anything I did previously. She rocked herself against my thigh between her legs, the harder I pulled her nipple into my mouth.
“Oh god, Wynn,” she said in desperate breaths. “Please.” She begged me.
I used my thigh to guide her onto her back and I settled myself between her legs. My nervousness settled in my abdomen as I feared this moment. I could control myself when not touched there, but I wasn't sure how long I was going to last. This was all new to me. Sensing my hesitancy, she smiled at me and lowered her hand to guide me.
I braced myself for that first touch of her. I worried about what might happen in me as my fears flooded my thoughts. I was fighting all the memories that were bombarding me. Then, her hands barely touched me and it was so light, there was no way to confuse it with what I had once known. Her delicate touch was nothing like my memories that fought to destroy me. She was gentle, holding my eyes, and making the moment ours. My memories lost. I won. Hannah and I won.
She guided me into her and lowered her grasp to the base of me as with slow movements I entered her. As her warm tightness surrounded me, I held my breath and couldn’t help but close my eyes at how fucking amazing it was. I pushed myself up onto my hands and caged her between my arms. She looked at me and putting her hands to my face, she brought my eyes to hers. Perfection. In her eyes, I saw trust and passion. This moment was ours.
22
Hannah
I tried to keep my eyes open through everything he did with me. I wanted him to see me and not his memories. But it proved impossible the more we progressed. I had to close them as he pushed further inside my heart than anyone ever had. He said he was going to make love to me and I questioned him at first. I didn't see how an act that everyone does could be different for us. I had sex before him. I had experience, but I had no experience with this. When I told him of my fear, I meant it. I was afraid of what this was going to mean for me.
The memory of holding his hand for the first time danced behind my eyes and how I told him that it was in touch that we knew we were alive. They were words and a deeper part of me was screaming those words from inside myself, begging me to understand their truth. I had walls blocking the physical and emotional touch of others because I believed I should be dead just as Lily. I did not want to be alive then. How many times do we say things in life without comprehending them ourselves? Later we realize the truth we hid from our own understanding, thinking we are doing it for others but really, we are helping ourselves. I needed to listen to myself more.
I began to lift away from the pain that I lived in, because I couldn’t be in pain when I was with Wynn. He reflected myself back to me, showing me I held the strength to be the person I was meant to be. He tore my walls apart and I was stepping into a whole new realm. It was this amazing man, touching me with such intimate movements that awakened me. Intimate, the word I feared most and now I knew why. It was because no one could show me my own purity as Wynn has. Our walls crashed into each other as soon as he entered my life. We were living. Pure, free, living.
I forced my eyes open to find him watching me. I lifted my hands and grabbed onto his biceps that encased me, holding them as my body wrapped around him. He filled me completely, both physically and emotionally and any other term one could use. He filled me. We kept each other’s eyes held as he rested inside me and the fight tore across his face showing he wanted to lose control and abandon himself within me. His body was begging him to do it, but he kept his eyes focused on me, holding me to him, as if he saw me as a dream and didn't want to lose me. I shifted and my internal muscles pulsed against him.
“Oh fuck,” he said and I saw across his face the moment the pulse of my muscles reached him, and he lowered himself to rest on his forearms.
His hands held my cheeks and eyes to face him, as his fingers traced the tips of my ears. He was aware of every part of me and I him. My hands pulsed along his shoulders as I pushed my knees farther apart, moving one to rest against his side. He began to move in a rhythmic motion as he learned how to accept his own pleasure from me. He took what he needed and I willingly gave of myself and he gave back in return. This was no longer a depleting for me. I never held anyone's eyes during sex. But this wasn't just sex. This was the same pull and push we experienced when we held hands. It was as though we had our own gravitational force. I was no longer held to Earth but to Wynn.
He touched my cheek in such a tender motion, as if I were glass and could shatter at any moment. His eyes no longer held fear and it was as though I could see his walls drop the rest of the way. He was free. He brought his lips to mine and his pace quickened, causing my breath to pulse from me. He kept his lips on mine and caught each one of my breaths as the intensity of it brought me to a moment of pure joy. Joy. It wasn't what I thought making love could ever be described as, but that was what this was. It was joy. I was happy, I was alive, I was in love, and I was whole. I pulled away from our kiss as the smile and joy filled me. He met my eyes and a smile formed on his face, mirroring mine.
I lifted my hand to his chin and touched his ears the way he found I loved to do. He turned his head toward my hand to kiss my wrist as I whispered, "Let go.” I didn't want him to hold back with me and I wanted to fall with him into our moment. I breathed a deep breath and at the rise of my chest and pull of my abdominal muscles, I accepted one final thrust of his hips and we both let go at the same time.
He lowered himself back to his forearms and pushed my hair behind my ears. He had a warm glow to his skin, and his eyes were at peace. I kissed his temple and the salty taste of sweat dripped from his hair. He leaned over my forehead and kissed it in return and smiled at me. “I don’t want to pull away from you,” he said with a smile making me laugh and I saw his shocked expression when he felt the laugh move through me and around him. “Holy shit that was weird,” he said as he brought another laugh from me. He kissed my nose. “Maybe I should keep making you laugh, because that feels pretty fucking cool, weird as hell, but cool.”
I laughed again and with slow movements, he removed himself from me. I gave him a smile. “I feel empty without you, but I don’t feel empty,” I said as I sat abruptly as the realization of that hit. “I mean I'm incredibly alive right now and filled with this immense joy.” I turned to him and smiled. I wasn't numb. I was alive.
“Good,” he said as he pulled me back to bed and kissed my cheek. “That was my intention.” He put his arm under my shoulder and wrapped me to him. "I loved it, Hannah. I love you and I don't care that we haven't been together that long, I have to tell you. I wanted you to be part of my life the first day I met you and you chose not to go through that door."
I laughed. “Ugh, that door. Sorry I was such a bitch. But I don't care about time frames either. I've learned time is short for everyone here, so why waste it waiting for the right moment? Every moment has the potential to be right. There just isn't time to wait for the perfect moment. We have to make our moments. I love you too, Wynn," I said then kissed his cheek this time and played with his whiskers before lying on his shoulder. “That was incredible,” I said as I ran my hand across his chest and traced my fingers across the tattoo he had over his heart. This one was Hemingway. I sat up and kissed the book that rested under it. The pages looked as if they were blowing in a breeze and pages had flown from it. “This is the first time I’ve looked closely to the detail in this one. It's beautiful. The last time I saw it I was too busy looking at your abs.” I smiled.
He pulled my hand up to his lips and kissed my fingertips and then kissed my wrist where my tattoo lay. “You need something new here,” he said as he looked at my tattoo.
“Okay. Will you do it?” I asked.
He furrowed his brow at me before speaking. “I don’t do tattoos,” he said and his thoughts drifted as if he were pondering something monumental.
“But you draw. You’ve been in Sid’s shop most of your life. I’m sure you know the logistics,” I said and watched as realization as to what he should be doing with his life hit him and it was magnificent. “You can’t keep taking photos of crime scenes, Wynn. It’s eating you alive. Look at how you reacted to a job the other night. You are meant to do more than that. You've kept the job because being around death reminded you that you were living. We both need to live, Wynn.”
“You’re right, but to do tattoos, I will have to get past issues I have with touching people.” He laughed. “Hell, I will have to work on being around people in general. Unless, Sid could rig something up where they are blocked from view except for the area where I’m working, like surgery.” He laughed again and met my eyes before continuing. “But do you really want to be my first?"
I smiled at him and kissed his chin. “Of course I do.” I turned my wrist and looked at my tattoo. “I trust you to make this what it needs to be.”
“Okay. Then, I need you to do the same for me,” he said.
I was the one giving the questioning expression now. “What do you mean?” I asked. “You don’t want me tattooing you. Believe me.” I laughed.
He smiled. “Well, I need you to write my next quote for me, because it will be my last one. I don’t want to get one on the anniversary of her death anymore. I want to get a new one to mark a new moment in life.”
“I don’t write though, Wynn,” I said as memories of writing at the kitchen table flashed through me.
“Oh, there’s a young woman named, Claire giving me a different opinion. She went on for quite a while about your writing. She even told me she kept all of them in your old room waiting for you.” He smiled.
I put my hands over my eyes and he laughed as he pulled them away and leaned over me. “Don’t be embarrassed,” he said.
“Those are from a different time. I haven’t written in forever,” I said on a quiet breath.
“Time is irrelevant, remember. You need to take hold of it and just do it. Make the moment your bitch.” He giggled at me. Then with all seriousness he said, “I want my next quote to be yours.”
“Did you just giggle?” I asked as I gave him a playful shove, avoiding his declaration. “You made fun of my snorting and you giggled?”
“Yes, yes I did. Don’t judge me,” he said with his normal deep laugh. “I'm serious though, my next quote will be yours."
"Okay,” I said as I snuggled next to him as he pulled me into his arms and we fell into a deep, sated, peaceful, sleep.
The next morning, the light touch of lips on the inside of my wrist woke me and I moaned in pleasure as I opened my eyes to his gorgeous smile looking up at me. His hair was a mess, but he had it pulled back in one of my hair ties. He was gorgeous. His own excitement at seeing me pressed against my leg and I wanted nothing more than him inside me again. As if he could read my mind he lowered himself to me and we faced the day the same way we ended it the previous night. Only this time, we were more comfortable with each other and in that comfort he held my heart more with every touch.
When we finished he rolled to the side of me with a groan. “We have to do that more often.” He smiled at me. “I’m not sure why we waited so long,” he deadpanned.
“I agree and we may need to contact Stinson. I'm worried about the distance between us.” I said with a laugh and climbed out of bed. I looked back and found he watched me walk from the room, so I made sure to sway my hips even more.
He groaned again as he covered his head with the pillow then threw it at me. It fell short and landed on the floor just inside the door as I turned toward the bathroom. I screamed when I walked past the kitchen as a man stood just outside the window working on trimming back the weeds that grew around it. Wynn came running in to see what was wrong and when he found me hiding behind the chair he laughed.
“You do realize that wooden chair is not hiding you, right?” he asked, leaning against the door frame and smiling coyly at me. I gave him a crooked scowl for taking the time to throw his boxers on before running to save me. “I remember you sitting in the nude for an hour while people drew you. Where did this shyness come from, Hannah?”
“That’s different you turd. It’s for art. This is in my own home and I didn’t expect to have someone watching me from the window.” I stood and waved my hand toward the window and kitchen as I stood on my toes meeting his eyes and touching our noses. I didn't hide myself to him and stood without shame, naked before him.
“First, he wasn’t watching you, he’s doing lawn work. Second, say that again.” He smiled as he leaned in and put his arms around me.
“Say what again?” I asked.
“My own home, which was seriously the hottest thing you have ever said, especially since it was in passing. It just was, without a second thought.” He smirked and then slapped my butt as he scooted past me to get to the bathroom first.
"My own home,” I said as I watched him walk away from me and he put a sway in his hips trying to mimic mine. "You're a dork,” I said as I went back to our room to hook my mp3 player up to my miniature speaker I brought with me. I knew just what song to start as I grabbed his tee shirt from the floor and pulled it over my head.
Wynn came out of the bathroom as the song began and he smiled at me. "This song," he said as he pointed at the bedside table where I set my mp3 player. "This song is perfection, much like you, Hannah Anderson."
I smiled at him as I settled into his tee shirt. I poked my head out of the collar and began to dance toward the kitchen as he watched me with a smile of his own. "I bought it after you mentioned it that first day we had coffee."
"I hoped you would. It reminded me of you."
"I know it did and it still does, I can see by how you look at me. So it reminds me of you in return. I can't tell you how many times I have listened to it over the last few weeks.” I smiled as I walked backwards toward the bathroom. I love this man. Those were the words that replayed in my thoughts and heart every time I looked at him. I love him.
We cleaned up more around the cottage and met Joe at the main house to discuss what needed to be done around his property. We told him about my father and he insisted that going to my family was more important than working on things around our home. He was going to take care of it and we were not to worry. He smiled at us as he took in our closer proximity today. Several times he told us how much we reminded him of his lost friends. He even told me that I had the same spirit as Evie and I saw Wynn give me a look of pure adoration when he listened to Joe compare me to his grandmother.
It was late morning by the time we made it to my parents’ farm. It was easier to go there today after the reconciliation we had the previous day. I worried as I thought of discussing the details of my father’s condition. As hard of a relationship we had had, I didn’t want to see him suffer. I couldn't hate him anymore. He was trying to make amends for his mistakes. What I had learned in my short life, when amends are to be made, the best way to do so is with love and forgiveness.
I took my dad out to our back porch and we sat on our swing together for several hours. We spent the time sitting together as I read to him and he sometimes listened, but most of the time he slept. Wynn gave me my time with my father as he helped my mother around the house. It had fallen into worse shape as my father had grown sicker. They always kept everything, never throwing even the newspapers out. My father said his father taught it to him, and his father taught him. The great depression instilled a fear of being without necessities. Which in turn made them look like hoarders to others, but we were never without because of their o
bsession.
I could tell both my parents adored Wynn. I think my dad appreciated his candor with him. Wynn confronted him on where he was wrong with me and it made me proud every time I looked at him. He stood up for me when no one else ever had. I watched Wynn as he helped my mom fix their lawnmower and then he took it out to mow around the house and pick up any garbage strewn across the lawn.
He waved to me and gave me a smile before he pulled his sweat covered shirt off in the way I told him I loved to watch. He used it to wipe his brow and the sweat from his body. He even gave it a sniff before wagging his eyebrows at me, which caused a smile to form across my face. He lowered his sunglasses to give me a wink and a grin, admiring the effect he had on me before he went back to work.
My mom glanced my way and smiled as she looked at Wynn and then approached me. “He sure has a lot of tattoos, sweetie,” she said as we both admired his back.
“Yes, he does and every one of them is beautiful,” I responded and kept my eyes locked onto him.
“I remember when your father and I first met. He was mowing the same stretch of lawn and I was stopping by here to drop off a pie from my grandmother. He was right out there,” she said as she pointed to the tree line. “He was riding this old tractor trying to make sure not to hit his newly planted cherry trees. When he gave me that smile of his I knew there was no coming back from him,” she said as she looked over at him now sleeping on the porch swing. “I know we didn’t do right for you and Lily throughout the years. But we loved you girls more than anything.” She leaned down and kissed my father’s head, then kissed mine.
“How long does he have, Mom?” I asked what I had been dreading.