Dedication

by Aisling Weaver

  “Hi there, poppet!”

  She giggled as my fingers tickled her sides and wrapped her little arms around my neck. She, Sarah, was one of the many reasons I stayed.

  “Aunt Em said you weren’t going to be here.”

  I looked down into eyes as grey as my own and tweaked her pert nose, chasing the pout from her lips. “Ah, well, I wouldn’t miss your Nan’s birthday, sweetie.” I set her on her feet and she tugged me up the stairs by my fingers, the details of her day babbling forth. Emma waited for me in the hall.

  “Will you take this to my room, poppet?” I handed my backpack to her and she clutched it, beaming as she rambled off on her task.

  “Thank you for coming home.” Emma’s lips thinned with tension and I frowned stepping closer.

  “What happened, Em?” Her face fell and she eliminated the space between us, thudding against me, arms twining around my waist. It was the first embrace we’d shared in months and my breath caught as I wrapped my arms around her shoulders.

  “Jacob’s back.”

  My spine stiffened.

  “Please, Gwen. I can’t deal with him on my own.”

  Jacob. Emma’s brother and Sarah’s father, who spent more time locked up away from society for his crimes than not, who loathed me and our relationship.

  “Mum changed the party to celebrate.”

  Jacob, the youngest child, the only son, who still twisted his mother about his tiny finger.

  “Okay.” She exhaled and I leaned my head against hers, closed my eyes against the turmoil. “Let me go change and let Elizabeth know I’ve arrived, Em.”

  She nodded and stepped back, reluctance clear on her face. Her dark chocolate gaze held mine for a moment as Sarah’s rapid footsteps approached.

  “How is Beth?”

  I swallowed and reached out to tuck a wayward strand of hair behind her ear. “I’ll tell you everything later.”

  * * * *

  Midnight had long passed by the time we sat down with a bottle of honey wine. The party was excruciating, dragging on and on, Jacob practicing his digs and jabs whenever his mother wasn’t near enough to hear. It was exhausting. Still neither of us would sleep without this ritual, this confession. Golden liquid rippled, a ribbon of sunlight, from the bottle into the glasses and I handed Emma hers with a wry smile.

  “So what happened?” she asked softly, handing control of the reveal to me.

  I sighed, swirled my wine and began to speak.

  I told her everything. From my spur of the moment decision to go to the last hug. She absorbed it all, asked no questions, waited for me to finish, refilled our wine glasses half way through. We’d gotten good at this; I knew how much to tell her and what didn’t need to be shared. It was necessary.

  “Did you like it?” she asked quietly, plucking at the fringe of her shawl.

  “Yes.”

  “Will it happen again?” Her eyes met mine this time and I held them unwavering.

  “I don’t know. I think it’s likely.”

  “Will you fuck him?” Her voice delivered the words in a low hush and I shivered, blushing. We both knew how long it had been since I’d been with a man; six years, when we were determined to start a family, before everything began to fall apart. It had been my only time, too.

  “If she wants me to,” I swallowed, “yes, I will.”

  Emma blinked at my answer and I stretched out to set my glass on the coffee table. Her eyes followed my arm and she gasped as my sleeve pulled up, revealing the dark purple bruising. “Jesus, Gwen,” she whispered, taking my hand, unbuttoning my shirt and rolling the sleeve back. It looked even worse than it had that morning, the clear impressions of fingers stark and livid.

  “Em—” my words stuttered when she leaned down and kissed the edge of the bruising.

  “It’s okay,” she whispered, eyes still focused on my skin, fingers as soft as her voice tracing the marks. “It’s just…she marks you more and more as hers every time, doesn’t she?” Emma didn’t wait for my answer. “I worried you wouldn’t make it back, that I’d have to come up with some story of where you were. I can’t exactly admit my wife’s off fucking another woman, can I?”

  My heart tightened at the rawness of her words and she continued before I could interrupt.

  “I know it was my idea. I know you need it. I know it’s more than sex. And I know we aren’t what we were, that my…illness has taken all of that away from us. I’m glad you have her, that she’ll be there to hold you together when…” her voice trailed off, leaving unsaid that inevitability we lived with, the elephant in the room.

  In that split second I let myself see her frailty, how pale and thin she was, how faded she’d grown. Then I stuffed it away, locking that truth up tight.

  Quality of life was what we lived for, now.

  “And I’m here to hold you together.” I took her glass from her, set it on the table and pulled her to her feet. “Let’s get some sleep, my love.”

  * * * *

  Two weeks later…

  “Tell Beth I said hi, okay?” Emma brushed her lips to mine, smiling into my eyes. We’d found an odd new balance since my impromptu visit to Elizabeth, since the night with her and Connor. It was nice to see her smile again.

  “I will. See you later on, sweetheart.” I closed the door behind her, watched through the curtain as she backed out of the drive. I puttered around, tidying the kitchen from dinner and starting a load of laundry, finally letting myself dial Elizabeth’s number when the clock reached the top of the hour.

  “Hello, darling.” Her voice, honeyed and warm, sent an immediate shiver of heat through my body. My mouth went dry and I had to lick my lips, searching for moisture, to reply.

  “Hi there.” I laid back on the bed, dropped my head to my pillow. “Em said to say hi.” I heard the soft sound of surprise.

  “Hmm. Coming full circle again, it seems. Give her a hug for me, my Gwen.”

  I smiled, hearing my relief echoed in her voice. Emma and Elizabeth had attended school together, had shared a brief, hot affair, had carefully tended over the years a long distance friendship. When we reached that point of breaking, when I teetered at the edge, crumbling under the weight of responsibility and frustration, Emma had called Elizabeth, asked her to meet me, to consider a proposal, divining a need in me I hadn’t yet acknowledged. Elizabeth accepted.

  That was a year past. Now both women knew the secrets of my psyche.

  “I will be sure to do that.” A comfortable quiet settled and my smile deepened as I heard her stretch. “How was work?” I asked, curling onto my side. The days were finally piling up behind me higher than those ahead and in four I would be with her once more. I craved the upcoming time with her.

  “Tiring.” I knew that would be the most I got for an answer. Elizabeth worked as a child advocate and her work often left her weary and mentally drained. “I have a question for you, darling.”

  My eyes popped open and I stared out my bedroom window, watching the evening colors paint the sky. “Ask away.”

  “There’s a chance Connor will be home this weekend.” She paused and I could almost see her twisting a strand of hair around a finger, her one tell when she’s not absolutely certain of my answer. It was a rare sight for me anymore. “Maybe for the whole weekend, but at the least Friday night.”

  “And you’d like to know if he can join us again?” I finally completed her thought, blushing at the huskiness my voice acquired.

  “Mmmm. Yes. I would. Would you enjoy that?” Hearing her voice turn molten at the thought reinforced my answer.

  “I enjoy anything that gives you pleasure.” She exhaled in a soft chuckle that darkened my blush.

  “You might need the assistance, anyways, my Gwen. I’ve seen neither of you since your visit.”

  I could hear the need darken her voice and a thrill sang through me. I knew that he’d been away, sent to Hong Kong then on to Sydney the evening I returned. The thought of fucking her into ex
haustion rushed to my cunt so fast I gasped.

  “Ah, what are you doing, darling?”

  “Just thinking.” I squeezed my thighs against the pulse of my clit; the pressure only intensified it.

  “About?” I heard movement and my mind painted her lying back on her bed, naked, fingers wandering. My heartbeat doubled.

  “Fucking you with Connor again,” I whispered. Somehow I couldn’t find any more voice than that. “Pinning you between us, filling you, finding that perfect spot again where you’re lost to us.”

  Elizabeth made a noise that was half moan and half growl. “Fuck,” she muttered and I could tell by the stutter in her breath that she was touching herself. My fingers twitched, wishing for the same. “Lie on your back, Gwen. I’m going to fuck you this time.”

  At her direction I stripped, lay bare atop my blankets, flushed skin glowing in the sunset. Last week I’d whispered to her as she stroked her clit, reminding her of my voracious tongue, my devoted mouth, my filling fingers, fucking her with my words until she came, voice breaking, breath catching, carrying me with her, her pleasure triggering my own, an orgasm that blossomed deep within and took me by surprise.

  “Your fingers are mine, Gwen.” Her voice rippled through me, as much caress as her touch might have been. I shivered and my fingers twitched against the blanket, waiting. “My fingers trace the curves of your breasts, teasing, swirling around your nipples, urging them into points.” Gasping, my fingers followed her words, the slightest touch on my needy nerve endings making me groan. “I pinch and tug them, straddling your waist, pinning your hips to the bed.” A low keen rose from my throat and I swore I could feel her there, holding me down, that they were her fingers torturing my sensitive nipples. “You’re going to come for me, aren’t you, Gwen?”

  “Yes yes yes,” I rasped, squirming already, my cunt slick and throbbing.

  “My fingers drift down, find those slick curls I know are waiting.” I could hear her arousal and it tightened mine like a tuned string until each syllable she uttered stroked through me, my fingers acting as her fingers, plucking the harpstrings of my nerves. I wanted her, needed her, so badly I thought I would come at the first touch of my clit.

  “Don’t you dare come yet,” Elizabeth growled. I whimpered. “Not yet, my Gwen. My fingers skip your needy clit, swirl into your hungry cunt, pressing inside, feeling your muscles clench.” My spine arched, the bow string of my arousal pulled me taut, and my lips formed soundless begging words.

  “Wait,” she whispered and I heard her low moan, the distinct slick sound of her own cunt. “Filling, stretching, fucking deep, claiming you inside.” Her voice rose in cadence and my fingers drove into me in time, hips rocking, breath shattering, lost to her spell. “Now, Gwen! Come for me, on me!”

  I tapped my clit twice and exploded, mouth stretching in a silent scream, hips lifting up off the bed, body touching only at shoulders and heels, fingers driving hard and fast into myself. Elizabeth’s orgasm erupted into the midst of mine and I rocked to it until we both subsided, inhaling in ragged gasps.

  “Is it Friday yet?” I whispered into the calm that settled, earning a low, soft chuckle.

  “Soon enough, darling, soon enough.”

  Chapter 8

  Veneration

  The stars twinkled in an inky black sky when I pulled my car into Elizabeth’s drive. Work had kept me well past normal, a pipe burst in the bath at home and an accident on the freeway held me fast for an hour. The moon set while I wove my way along winding roads finally delivering me close to midnight. For a moment I leaned against my car, tilted my head back and let the vastness of the universe press down on me. I adored it when I could escape the light pollution of the city, could witness the true beauty of the night sky. It always seemed so close and yet so far, all encompassing and breathtaking.

  “You should see it from the air.” Connor’s voice reached out to me from the shadows and I jumped, heart racing.

  “God, Connor!” My hand pressed over my pounding chest and he chuckled.

  “Sorry, thought you’d hear the door. Are you coming in? You’ve been out here for a while now.” I shook the fog from my head and retrieved my bag.

  “Can you really see the stars up there?” He held the door for me, hand falling to the small of my back in a familiar gesture, turning me towards the bedroom.

  “Mmmhmm,” he answered. “Above the clouds, no light pollution, little atmosphere, just you and the stars. It’s beautiful. Part of the reason I became a pilot, actually.” He followed me close enough his heat radiated into my back. I looked over my shoulder at him.

  “You became a pilot so you could see the stars better?” I smiled and he tickled my sides, making me jump.

  “No, I became a pilot because I couldn’t make it into space.” His eyes were serious above his smile and he pulled me to a halt in the doorway to Elizabeth’s bedroom, nodding past me. “But that’s okay. I’ve found there are more captivating, brightly burning entities on the ground.”

  I turned to follow his gaze. My breath caught and I reached back, fingers closing around his wrist, holding on to him for balance. “Wow,” I whispered.

  Her room glowed with the light of candles, sending the memory of my last night here, with them, shimmering through me. Elizabeth’s skin shone golden in the warm light, sprawled in the middle of her bed, a hand resting on her belly, the other tucked beneath her cheek.

  Connor propped his chin on my shoulder and I leaned into him. “She makes me consider giving up flying,” he whispered. My stomach flipped in empathy, understanding her gravitational pull. “Shall we wake her together?” he murmured close to my ear. Desire coiled through me and I nodded in wordless agreement.

  In silence we stripped, our moods matched in intensity. I could smell them in the air, the combination of her sweetness, his musk, knew that initial edge of keen longing had been eased. Connor eased onto the bed with her, laying along her right side, I stretched along the other. Elizabeth shifted in her sleep, a smile touching her lips. Together we enveloped her, hands sliding over her skin in worship, lips descending to taste the slope of her neck, contour of her collarbone, line of her jaw. She arched, a low moan of pleasure parting her lips and we each tasted a corner of her mouth. A tremor rippled through Elizabeth’s body and her hands reached to cup our heads, holding us close.

  She turned, lips opening for Connor’s probing first, the motion baring her neck for me. My teeth nipped a trail down the graceful column, ending when her fingers urged me back to her. “You’re here,” she whispered in the breath before our mouths met and a hot liquid rush crashed through me. I gave up on breathing, concentrated on the touch of tongue and lips, the twist of her fingers in my hair, the grip she maintained, holding me fast even when my lungs began to beg for air. It was a perfect, exquisite drowning.

  Together we worked hands and fingers, mouths and tongues, across her body, teasing her, pleasing her. I read the same desire, the same longing, the same missing in his expression as I felt inside. She was our Goddess and we were bent on worshiping her.

  Connor urged her onto her side, to spoon back into him, when we parted long enough to gasp for air. He slid into her slowly, lips at her ear, voice a growl of desire and adoration.

  “I never get enough of you,” he said, big hands reaching to pull me against her, pinning her between us. I hooked my knee inside hers, opened her for both him and my touch. Her head fell back against his shoulder at the penetration.

  I wanted to taste every inch of her, lick and suck her skin, taste her kiss, her sweat, her essence. Her fingers remained in my hair as my mouth worked a thorough path of reverence across her skin. I skated the slope of her neck, tasted the edge of her collarbone, dipped into the hollow of her throat. With hands and mouth I marked the landscape of her breasts, teasing her nipples into rigid buttons that drew moans with each flick of my tongue. Her grip began to tighten as I slid down her belly, nuzzling the curves of her ribs, the soft swell below her
navel, the perfect fullness of her hips. All the while Connor stroked with careful measure, just deep enough, just slow enough, that our pace held her enthralled to the pursuit of her pleasure.

  His big hand pulled her wider when I settled, nuzzled, at the junction of her thighs. He met my gaze from behind her shoulder, face tight with his control, eyes smoldering. Elizabeth’s eyes flicked open in the pause before my lips touched her, looking down her body, taking in the promise of my proximity. “Yesss,” she hissed and pulled me against her. “Devour me, Gwen!”

  A hot shiver poured down my spine; I brought my lips to her slick, ready flesh in a soft kiss that made her hips buck and Connor groan. My tongue slipped between her lips, following the contours up and around her ready, needy clit. “Oh fuck,” Elizabeth groaned, her hold on me tightening until my scalp sparked. I settled closer, hand resting on Connor’s inner thigh, following the flex of his body through it, riding my tongue against her, matching my caresses to his thrusts. I could taste him mixed with her, smell his lust, could feel her body stretch and pull at him just beyond the stroke of my tongue.

  Elizabeth’s body began to shake, a growing tremble, a fight to hold still, to stay pinned between his cock and my mouth. Connor drove into her deeper, sinking his full length into her ready cunt. With a hand on each of them I felt them wind up, pulling closer, her fingers pulling me against her, wordless sounds urging, begging both of us for the last push.

  “Come on us, Liz,” he growled in her ear and she bucked once against his hands, into my mouth, my teeth skating against her tender flesh, body set free, rocking, rippling with the force of her orgasm, soaking both of us in a flood of desire.

  He fucked through her convulsing muscles, deep, owning plunges that pushed her into me, filling my mouth with her cunt. His leg tightened under my hand and he held himself deep, announcing his arrival, his spending, with a hoarse shout. He clutched her to him, face buried beyond my sight in against her shoulder and I smoothed my tongue over her, soothing the last tremors from her, the tip of my tongue skating the joining of their bodies, tasting their mingled flavor. Her hips jerked and she tugged at me. “Come here.” Her voice rippled with her pleasure and I willingly retraced my path back to her lips, groaning as she kissed me, sucking her own juices from my soaked lips. “Can I wake like that more often?” she teased, earning a chuckle from both Connor and I. Her fingers slipped from my hair and traced a languid line down my body, snaking between my breasts, swirling around my navel.