by Bourne, Lena
My uncle calls me just after seven on Friday morning, and it takes some time for my mind to adjust to what he's telling me, because I've been up all night working on my term paper which is due in a couple of hours.
"My friend has been to see yours," he says. "And it's tentatively good news. There is an experimental operation, but nothing can be done while he's in prison."
The pieces finally connect in my brain, and my grin is so wide it's hard to speak. "He might be eligible for home detention soon."
My uncle sighs, and something rattles in the phone. "They will work out the details. But what worries me is that you have friends in prison."
"He's more of an acquaintance really," I say. "Nothing to worry about. I'm still in school, still on the right track."
I haven't spoken to my uncle much since him and my aunt divorced eight years ago, and he moved to California. But somehow he's still someone I have to assure that I'm being a good girl.
He doesn't press the issue and after a few painful questions about how I'm holding up after my mom's death we finally say goodbye. Tears are rushing my eyes as I hang up, the day he held my mom's hand and told her the last doctor to confirm her diagnosis as final was the best in the field, swimming in front of my eyes like I'm living it now. But that was almost a year ago, and they all spoke the truth.
Scott doesn't pick up when I call him with the news, and when he finally calls back, I'm almost done with my classes for the day.
CHAPTER NINE
It's nine by the time Scott finally comes over on Friday night. Phillipa's out and I've been sitting by the living room window, biting my cuticles, waiting for him to come for what feels like days.
"You said you'd be here before eight," I say as I hold the front door open for him.
"I had things to do," he mutters and takes off his jacket. He's finally wearing a proper winter one and it's glistening wet. I guess it must have been raining all day in New York too. "Do you have something to eat?"
I shrug and move to walk to the kitchen, but he pulls me back, wrapping his arm around my waist, his thigh between mine.
"I'm sorry I'm late," he whispers and the touch of his cold lips against mine, sends a bolt of lighting straight through my stomach, unraveling all knots there.
I wrap my lips around his, wanting to warm them, stuggling to erase all remnants of doubt still in my mind.
"I really am hungry though," he says, his hand cupping my ass.
But I have no food, so we're forced to order take out. Then I'm straddling him on the sofa, tracing the thick tendon on the side of his neck with my tongue, rocking my hips back and forth across his lap, his erection digging into me. His hand takes forever to warm against the hot flesh of my stomach, my breasts, the small of my back.
The doorbell ringing makes me groan in frustration, and it takes real willpower for me to climb off him and get our food.
We eat on the coffee table, and I'm gulping my sweet and sour chicken down, wanting to get the meal over with as fast as possible.
"You finally got your appetite back, that's good," he says between bites, but the way his gaze is making my nipples tingle tells me it's not just concern over my health that's making him say it.
"How's that?" I ask, and chew my next mouthful more slowly.
"I was just thinking how your ass is a little small, but that should get fixed now that you're eating again," he says, as though commenting on the weather.
I just know my eyes are bulging out of my head and I'm chewing with my mouth open. I swallow hard, and force my eyes to form slits.
"How do you do that?" I ask.
The edges of his lips are still twisted up into a smile, but his eyes narrow. "Do what?"
"How do you manage to insult me and still make it sound like the hottest compliment?"
He reaches over and brushes a piece of rice off my chin. "Maybe you're just hearing the compliment."
I punch his arm, but I'm smiling now, because I can see a bright fire crackling in his eyes, fat snowflakes falling outside the windows of a warm, cozy cabin deep in the middle of nowhere.
His palm is warm against my cheek, his thumb soft as it traces the path across my lips, and I've never felt as beautiful as I do right now, under his gaze.
"What do you even see in me?" I mutter because I could never keep my mouth shut, or take a compliment. But really, he could be with any girl, so why is he sitting here with me?
He laughs, and runs his fingers through my hair, brushing them back from my face. "How long do you have?"
I smile and lean into his hand. "All night. And all the other nights after that."
He sighs and licks his lips, making them glisten in the soft light. "You're just so fresh and so wild, like some forest girl shut away from civilization for your whole life. Pure like nothing will ever spoil you." His eyes are soft, vast like a vast snowy plain. "And the way you make me feel is exactly how I imagine I'd feel spending the rest of my life somewhere in the middle of nowhere, with nothing but nature all around. So, as long as I'm with you, I don't even need any of that."
I'm not even really hearing his words, just seeing the images in my mind, of me, my hair blowing in the wind, the smell of pines and fresh earth all around, birds chirping in the branches above me, my skin glowing in the early morning light.
"So I'm like a fairy princess in your eyes," I ask, still feeling the wind in my hair.
He laughs. "No, you're no fairy, or a princess, really. You're more like relentless force of nature. Like a forest spirit, if you want to put a name on it. Or the wind. Maybe I'm not explaining it well. It looks a lot better in my head."
I press my lips against his and kiss him wetly. "You're explaining it just fine."
"You're also a really good lay," he says, his fingers digging into my ass.
The shrill sound of my phone ringing wakes me at dawn the next morning. Scott's body is pressed against mine, his arm holding me close so tightly, that the phone stops ringing by the time I finally manage to get free.
"Is something wrong, Dad?" I ask as soon as I call him back. "Why are you calling so early?"
"Something is definitely wrong!" he yells into the phone. "I spoke to your uncle last night. What are you doing associating with criminals?"
I can see his eyes bulging from his head, the scarlet color rising in his cheeks, the vein in his temple throbbing.
"I'm not," I mutter.
Beside me, Scott's sitting on the edge of the bed, rolling his shoulders, staring at me with wide eyes as white as snow.
"Come home now, we need to talk," Dad barks into my ear.
"There's no need," I say back.
"Come home, or I'm coming there. Your choice. What is happening with you, Gail?" Dad's losing it, and he won't back down until I agree. I know him well enough for that. Besides I'm the same way.
"Fine," I mutter. "I'll be there this afternoon."
"The sooner, the better," he says. "Seriously, Gail, I thought you were more grown up."
I hang up and finally meet Scott's eyes, which are turning darker by the second, white turning to black like pristine snow turning to slush.
"I have to go home today," I mutter and toss my phone on the bed.
"Yeah, I heard," he says. "I'd offer to come with you, but I don't see that ending well."
I walk over to him, and press his face against my belly, his hot breath erasing all chill. "Don't worry about it. My dad will understand."
If anyone can, he will, I'm certain of it.
"Will you come over, afterwards?" Scott asks and stands up, picking up his jeans off the floor.
"Nothing will stop me," I say, smiling widely, hoping to erase the cold panic still etched into his eyes.
"If you still want to, that is?"
"I want to," I assure him, and wrap my arms around his waist. His heart is thumping so fast in his chest, I'm afraid he'll collapse at any second. "And nothing will stop me."
CHAPTER TEN
"Gail, I'm in
the living room!" Dad calls out as soon as the front door clicks shut behind me. But I take my time taking off my jacket before I join him there.
"Who is this car thief and how do you know him?" Dad asks, leaning forward in his chair, a glass of scotch glistening in the overhead lights on the coffee table between us.
"He's the brother of a friend," I mutter, but that doesn't sound right. "The brother of my boyfriend, I mean."
Dad slaps his knees then throws his hands up. "What are you saying, Gail? Are you dating a criminal?"
I shake my head, but I can't meet his eyes, because really I am.
"From what I've been able to find out, that whole family is involved in criminal activity," Dad says, and my breath hitches in my throat. "Another one of them has just been released from prison. Please tell me that's not the one you're dating."
"And what if I am?" I spit out, before I can stop myself. "He's served his time, and it's not a big crime."
My dad's face goes straight from pale white to crimson. "You're kidding me. How stupid are you? Think of your future!"
It's like granddaddy Henderson is sitting across from me, yelling at my father in this very living room the last time I saw him almost fifteen years ago.
I'm on my feet, panting, no tears getting through the burning anger rising in my chest. "My future? I am thinking about my future! I'm in love with Scott and nothing will ever change that."
"You're not a little girl anymore, Gail!" Dad shoots to his feet too. "You know dating a convicted criminal will destroy any future you hope to have as a lawyer."
"It didn't destroy yours!" I yell back, glaring at him, my face likely the same shade of red as his.
"What are you talking about?"
"You know very well!"
"That's completely different, Gail. I never got involved and I sent them all on their merry way," Dad says, the veil in his temple throbbing worse than ever. "Which is what you have to do with this Scott. Right now, tonight!"
But there's no way I ever will, and the mere suggestion sends a surge of ice cold air through my chest, making my knees wobble.
"You can't tell me what to do!" I yell and run from the living room.
"Be smart about this, Gail!" he yells, just before the front door slams shut behind me.
Scott's not home when I get to his apartment, and my head's still spinning from the argument with my dad. Because he's right, only I can't accept that, not now, and the only way I can erase this knowledge is having Scott's strong arms around me, and his lips pressed against mine.
I drink two lattes in the little bakery downstairs, and eat two chocolate croissants. At ten past seven, the girl behind the counter starts giving me dirty looks, and by half past she strides right up to my table and tells me to leave, because she has to close and go home.
I pay her and go wait outside for Scott. But it's freezing, and snow is coming down in hard icy balls. It's only marginally better inside the car.
He finally parks Andrew's car behind me at half past eight, and by then my lips are blue and I'm probably halfway to getting pneumonia.
"You waited out here all this time?" he asks, his misting breath obscuring his face.
I wrap my arms around him, swallowing hard so I won't start crying. Both his arms are squeezing me tight.
"You don't have your cast anymore?" I ask.
"I got it taken off." He places his arm around my shoulders, takes my bag and leads me down the alleyway.
"On a Saturday?" I ask leaning against him.
"Yeah, it's healed enough," he mutters and follows me into the building.
His otherwise very chilly apartment feels like walking into a furnace after the hours I spent outside in the cold.
"You really should have gone inside somewhere to wait," he says, rubbing his arms up and down mine.
"I needed to see you," I whisper, shivering now.
"It didn't go that well with your dad," he says. It's a statement and not a question, but I nod anyway.
He helps me take off my jacket his eyes fixed on mine, the fire burning inside them warm enough to thaw any frost, no matter how deep.
"Better get you warmed up," he says and peels off my sweater. But his eyes are doing that just fine on their own.
He takes off his own sweater and shirt, shadows playing across crevices of his ripped stomach.
I gasp as he presses his hot chest against mine, his arms wrapped so firmly around me I wonder if he'll even be able to let go. Not that I want him to, ever.
His warmth passes into me, cold receding like clouds before a gusting spring wind. His lips are everywhere, on the top of my head, my cheeks, my forehead, my nose, my lips. I take his lip between my teeth to keep him there, meet his tongue as it forces its way into my mouth.
His nails graze my skin as he unbuttons my jeans, and I help him pull them down as his tongue finds my nipple, his hands cupping my breasts, before they find their way to my ass, and it's like I'm floating in the air.
The bed wobbles beneath me as he pulls my jeans off all the way. And then his kisses are everywhere again, tracing a path down my neck, tickling my nipples, pressing against the soft skin of my stomach, warmth coursing through me like it's summertime. I moan as he finds my lower lips, arching my back and spreading my legs to give him better access.
His tongue is sending sparks of pure electricity right through me, lightening exploding before my tightly shut eyes. I whimper as an orgasm rips through me, all the remaining cold fleeing in a whoosh. His tongue travels back up the center of my stomach, along my neck, finally ending in a kiss. I can taste myself on him, and the heat building between my legs is urgent like I didn't just cum.
His hand is kneading my breast, his fingers squeezing my nipple, as his tongue forces it's way down my throat.
"You sure you're on the pill?" he asks, his voice hoarse and deep.
My eyes spring open, and I'm sucked into the sparkling snowy plain stretching far and wide in his eyes, the sun making my skin glow. "Yes, I'm positive. I just took today's pill while I waited for you."
I scoot up higher on the bed, and watch him take off his jeans, the buckle rattling against the floor. I spread my legs wide, shaking again, but in anticipation of finally getting to feel him inside me. Like it was meant to be.
He runs his cock across my opening, and I'm holding my breath, preparing for him to enter me. But he doesn't and I exhale sharply, digging my nails into his biceps. He does it again, and this time, the head slips in just a little, and I gasp at the softness, the rightness.
"Please just put it in," I murmur. My insides are aching for his presence, the emptiness insufferable.
But he just smiles and runs the head across my opening again. "All in good time, Gail."
It's so close, and yet so far and my whole body is crackling in anticipation, the heat rising between my legs hot enough to cause cramps.
I wrap my legs around his waist and hold him in place, raising my hips a little, slamming my arms against the bed. "I can't wait any longer."
He laces his fingers in mine and leans in for a kiss. I meet his tongue, thankful at least that much of him is inside me. I groan as his cock finally presses in, stretching me wide, entering relentlessly. I dig my fingers into his hand as it finally reaches the spot deep inside. He pulls out, slides back in deeper. The slow penetration is making the room spin all around me. I close my eyes and his cock seems to expand inside me, pushing so deep, it might never come out.
He pulls out, and my eyes shoot open as he thrusts into me faster, harder than before. He's pressing my hands into the bed, penetrating me at full speed, his eyes narrowed, his breaths coming in hard short grunts. The bed is wobbling so hard that I'm propelled right into him with each thrust. I'm whimpering now, because his flesh is so hard and wet inside me, so hot and relentless, so deep and pliant that I can hardly tell where I end and he begins.
The heat is rising in sharp pulses inside me, each longer, harder than the last. His thrusts are all bea
ting against the expanding spot deep inside me, sparks breaking off, forming yet more pools of molten lava. And then they all join, form a lake of heat I can't ever hold back, and I can hear my screams, but all I really know is the heat spreading through every cell inside me, because my entire stomach is on fire, my mind a red hot mess.
He thrust into me one last time, and I feel him cum inside me, gushing against the hot lava yet to subside. He's shivering too, his cock buried so deep I feel it in my chest, his eyes blue like the stormy summer sky.
I feel him soften inside me, but he doesn't pull out, just lies down across my chest and kisses me softly. I'm squeezing against him, because I can't handle the sudden emptiness, and run my feet across his calves, my hands down his back.
"Don't do that, if you're not ready for more," he whispers, right before his tongue enters my ear and I moan, clenching hard against his cock. It's swelling inside me, and I squeeze it again, because I want him to fill me whole and completely.
He wraps his arms around my back, flipping me over so I'm on top, gasping at the sharp tug of his cock still inside me. It's hard as a rock again and buried so deep, a single movement will send me right over the edge again. I lean down and kiss his neck, my fingers pressing into his hard pecks, sliding down his stomach, his cock throbbing inside me. He gasps as I find his nipples and squeeze, bucks his hips up so I land hard against his cock on the way down.
I could start rocking up and down, but then it would all be over too soon again, and his flesh is like velvet inside me, filling me like it belongs, like I finally found what I've been missing.
He places his arms behind his head, his muscles flexed and bulging, and rocks me again. "What? You're just gonna look?"
I bite down on my lower lip and run my palms down his arms, pressing gently. "For now."
I explore his crevices, nooks and crannies, hills and valleys with my fingers, my tongue, for what feels like hours, until I hardly feel his cock inside me anymore, like it's finally melted into me for real.