Continuum

by A. R. Hadley

  But Annie wouldn’t meet his eyes. She pushed his wrists off her jeans.

  "Look at me, Annie." He insisted, as usual. She had missed hearing those familiar four words.

  She locked onto his eyes. Green to green. They stared at one another with a smoldering intensity. She was so turned on she felt like she would climax just thinking about having him now — a result of his breath and his words.

  Annie had forgotten the hold Cal had on her body when he stood in her presence. She had forgotten the hold the sound of his voice and his words had on her soul. She was like a magnet being sucked into his pole.

  Cal picked up strands of her hair and played with them, watching the pieces fall, then he looked at her face and met her eyes again.

  "Tell me, Annie." He paused. Waited. "Tell me you don't want me to fuck you — now — in the kitchen. I'll tear your jeans off and bend you over that table. I'll fuck your sweet little pussy so hard, until you remember who we are and forget all this fucking bullshit."

  Heat filled her belly. Her pussy throbbed. Her mouth opened, but no words came out. She touched his cheek and simply let out a breath — the one she had apparently been holding for years inside her chest.

  As Cal reached down and grabbed her crotch on the outside of her jeans, Annie gasped.

  "Yes?" He slid his fingers over her pussy, back and forth, pressing against the material and trying to bore a hole through it as he watched her eyes roll into the back of her head.

  "Tell me, Annie," he said, cupping her tightly while pushing her pelvis into the counter with the weight of his body.

  “Oh, God,” she moaned and wrapped a hand around his neck. “You’re such a bastard.”

  Cal smiled, then yanked on her hair from underneath, forcefully grabbing the strands, bunching them in his palm until her head tilted toward the ceiling. He kept her there. She couldn't move anything but her hands.

  "Unbutton your jeans."

  She fiddled with the zipper as incoherent noises poured out of her. The moment she was free, he slipped his hand inside her panties.

  "Fuck," she said without breath. She couldn’t breathe.

  “Tell me what I want to hear." He began to stroke her clit, smoothing his fingers up and down her folds. "God, I’ve missed your voice." His lips were at hers. "You’re so wet." He rocked their bodies together. He stroked her until she was a mess. “I need to hear you say it, baby. What you want. Please."

  Cal kissed her bottom lip, then slid his mouth farther down, over her chin and neck. He pushed his nose past the low scoop of her sweater, breathing all over her skin, then he began biting her breasts over the sweater, nuzzling her, pressing his face into her tits, side to side, wetting the material with his tongue while continuing to finger her clit.

  Annie’s elation was mounting. Her sounds and moans grew louder and louder and louder. She didn't think she could speak until he commanded her to.

  “Say it, Annie."

  “Take me,” she cried in a pop, quivering, closing her eyes and pulling at his hair so tight she thought it might rip from his scalp. “Take me now! Fuck me." Beginning to cry, she grabbed at the shoulder seams on his shirt, pinching the material, bunching it and squeezing him. Tears of pleasure slid down her cheeks. "Fuck me. Take me. Please."

  The automatic garage door rose, and they both heard it.

  Annie tried to pull her head up, but Cal didn’t desist. He inserted two fingers inside her and yanked on her hair harder.

  “Give yourself to me right the fuck now,” he said, trembling, continuing to touch her in the same way he spoke — urgently. “Give me all of you. Don’t worry about the goddamn door.”

  “You have me,” she said, choking out the words through her weeping.

  "Show me,” he whispered in her ear gruffly. “Let go. Let go now. I have you. Let go of everything and come. Come, Annie. Here. Now." Cal's voice grew stronger with each word, rising higher and louder, seizing her. His fingers curved inside her, hitting the spot that made her instantly cry out.

  He let go of her hair and covered her mouth.

  Annie looked into Cal’s eyes rapidly as she whimpered behind his palm, as she clutched his sweaty neck, as she rammed her body against his touch, and then, in an instant, she obeyed and released, going limp, relaxing — everywhere.

  Head to toe.

  Muscles turned to jelly.

  She peeled her fingers from his body and gripped the counter while her head fell backward as far as it would go. Cal put his face in her neck, smiling, ran his nose along her jawline and toward her cheeks, sweeping away a few of her tears using only his face, then he zipped and buttoned her jeans.

  Annie’s chest rose vehemently, her insides still tingling and pulsating. The sensation ran through her, dripping off her body like honey.

  Cal licked his fingers and kissed her cheek. "You're beautiful," he whispered, "and you taste so sweet."

  The handle turned on the door.

  Fuck.

  Annie stood tall with a start as Cal stepped back. Both of them looked wildly into each other’s eyes, grinning and ready to burst. Well, Annie had already burst. Poor Cal was the one looking as though his pants might explode.

  "Hello," Beverly said, walking in and setting her groceries down on the island behind them.

  Cal and Annie didn't answer.

  Bev looked at Annie's bizarre face. Cal stood with his back to them. No one spoke but Barney. He strolled into the kitchen, grunting and happy.

  “Oh, well, wittle Barney will twalk to me, won’t you, boy? Mommy has a treat for you.” Bev pulled his favorite from the brown paper bag.

  Annie couldn't take her eyes off Cal. She looked down at his arousal and smiled, then slapped a hand over her mouth and stifled a giggle.

  "Are you okay?" Bev eyed her daughter as she took her purse off her shoulder and set it down.

  She glanced at her mother and laughed. Beverly rolled her eyes, and then she started to put away the groceries.

  "I picked up lunch." Bev opened the fridge.

  Annie ignored her mother, focusing instead on Cal and his protrusion. He stood very still, facing the sink because it was all he could do. Poor guy.

  “Are either of you going to fucking talk to me?” Beverly snarled, turning around with a block of cheese in her hand, pointing it back and forth between them.

  “Yes, Mom, God." Annie tucked her errant I've-just-been-finger-fucked hair behind her ears. "What did you get for lunch?”

  “Pizza and salad. It’s still in the car.”

  “I’ll get it,” Annie said.

  “Cal can get it. Please, Cal, would you mind?” Beverly batted her lashes.

  “I don’t know if he can.” Annie laughed.

  “The car is open?” he asked, obscuring his groin from Bev’s view.

  “Yes, thank you.” Beverly glared at Annie.

  She giggled again while Cal walked through the door to the garage.

  Beverly took a large jug of Chablis out of the fridge. “What in the hell is going on with you today?”

  “Nothing. Everything," Annie quipped.

  “Is he staying here?”

  “I don’t know where he’s staying.” Annie was still giggling as she took out three plates.

  Beverly placed her hands on her hips and raised her eyebrows.

  “Did you have a drink while I was gone?”

  “No." Annie deepened her tone. God. Mom was absurd.

  “Well, I’m having one."

  Annie set the table, laying silverware next to plates while Beverly gulped down half the contents of her glass then topped it off anew. Cal walked inside, minus the hard-on, holding a large cardboard pizza box and a container of Greek salad. The delightful smells filled the air.

  “This isn’t your food, you wittle spoiled baby,” Beverly said to Barney, bending down and scratching his back. He’d followed Cal to the table, paws tapping against the floor.

  “Thank you for grabbing lunch.” He placed the take-out a
t one end of the dining table.

  Annie had gone to the kitchen, finding herself giggling again, interrupting the exchange between her lover and mother — fuck, her fiancé — so much so, she’d forgotten what she needed.

  She watched the two of them, feeling unable to move, beginning to giggle a little louder, thinking about the absurdity of the morning — Cal showing up unannounced, the tension, the death, the proposal, the ring, the orgasm, the erection — all in Beverly’s kitchen. All within a span of an hour, her life had changed immeasurably … again.

  Holding a hand over her mouth, she laughed and laughed, practically rolling.

  “Annie, for God’s sake.” Beverly eyed Cal, and he made his way to the kitchen.

  Annie stopped laughing, and then, on a dime, she began to cry. The crying was like the laughing: steady, rising, falling, out of control. The weeping turned into sobbing. Not her usual quiet-tears-behind-a-dam crying, but whooping and loud sobbing.

  Cal put his arm around Annie, and even though he stood close to her, he felt as though he was actually watching her from above in a cartoon bubble.

  He was in for one hell of a ride with this beautiful pregnant woman before him. She needed him in a way he hadn’t anticipated. This would be a whole new experience for them both, and he was ready.

  He’d taken for granted all the things Annie must’ve been feeling physically and emotionally because on the outside she looked like the Annie he’d always known. It was easy for him to forget she was carrying a precious life around inside her wonderful body.

  And it was his. It was theirs. It was amazing.

  “Come on, baby. You need to eat.” He brushed hair away from her eyes.

  Annie began to hyperventilate. “I can’t.” The air suctioned into her lungs, hard and deep.

  "Shhh." He kissed the top of her head and stroked her cheek. "Breathe, baby." He held her until she slowed. “Come sit.” He took her hand and led her to the table.

  “I want my water,” she said, sniffling.

  “I’ll get it.” Beverly stood and sighed. “I want my jug.”

  Annie sat, and Cal stood behind her, gathering her hair and pushing it over her shoulders toward the front of her body. He began to massage her neck and back. "Keep breathing."

  Annie closed her eyes, sniffling and calming.

  Cal leaned his head near her face, pressing his cheek against hers.

  She’d settled. Her breathing was stable. She opened her eyes.

  Cal knelt at Annie's side and looked up into her face, brushing the corners of her eyes with his thumbs. She looked fervently into his eyes, waiting for him to speak.

  "I love you," he whispered, placing both his hands over her face, cradling her cheeks.

  Annie’s eyes filled with tears as she nodded, her head moving in unison with Cal’s strong hands. He kept looking at her, transferring his love with his eyes and posture, assuring her he was going to be there for her.

  Beverly breathed another sigh of relief as she carried her jug to the table while Cal stood, kissed Annie’s forehead, then sat down.

  “You don’t eat pizza?” Beverly asked Cal moments later, staring at him and his plate full of salad from across the table. He’d placed some of the salami to the side.

  Annie sat on his right with an empty plate. She couldn't eat. Not yet.

  “I do,” he replied, trying to avoid glaring at her.

  Beverly held her hand out to Barney, feeding him some meat.

  “I’ll take a piece now, please.” Annie extended her plate toward Cal, and he put a slice on it.

  They all began to eat. No one was speaking. Beverly was drinking, Cal and Annie were chewing, and Barney was sniveling. After Bev emptied her glass, she hoisted up the jug to pour.

  "Do you really need another drink right now, Mom?"

  "I didn't hear any protest out of your mouth when your boyfriend asked for a drink this morning." Bev snickered.

  Cal took the bottle from Beverly and finished filling her glass. After setting it down, he held Annie’s hand under the table and gave it a squeeze.

  "So. Cal. How long are you planning on being in Washington?" Bev asked as if she were friendly when she was clearly condescending. The same way she’d asked him about the pizza.

  "I'm not sure yet. I just arrived today."

  Annie watched her mother carefully, recognizing the tone. It couldn’t lead to anything good.

  "Oh. And where are you staying?"

  Again … with the polite sarcasm. "Mother."

  "It's okay, Annie," Cal said, glancing at her, then back at Beverly. "I actually haven't made any plans yet. I have to—”

  Beverly slapped her hand on her leg, interrupting him. "Well, you can stay here! Right, Annie?" Beverly brought her glass toward her face, ready to take a swig and pull out all her punches.

  Annie looked at Cal. He was looking at Bev. The gears were turning. He was probably trying to understand the strange creature sitting before him. He has no clue what he's in for.

  "I don't want to impose on you, Mrs. Baxter," he said, guarded.

  Beverly began to choke on her wine. Grinning, she patted her chest.

  “Cal ... I’m only nine years older than you. You don’t need to call me Mrs. Baxter. Call me Beverly. Besides, you're not imposing. I mean, you already knocked up my daughter. I don't think it matters much then if you fuck her upstairs in her own bedroom. That is why you came here, yes? After all this time?"

  "Jesus, Mother."

  Beverly struck her food with her fork harshly, as if she’d been the victor of a spoil. Annie stood and stared her down, nostrils flaring, hooves scraping dirt, claws ready. She would throttle her. Death by throttle.

  Cal grabbed Annie’s hand, pulled on it, and looked up. "Sit, baby. It's okay."

  "I'm sorry, Cal. My mother is..." Annie winced and sat, scooting the chair toward the table with such force it made a horrible noise against the floor.

  "She has every right to be upset." He gave Beverly a cool glance.

  Great. Annie was in the middle of a tennis match. She needed sleep. She didn't need to be an umpire or a spectator or a ball boy. She played with the half-eaten pizza on her plate.

  "That’s right. We’re all adults here. We can say what we think.” Smug satisfaction filled Beverly’s eyes.

  “Would you like to know what I’m thinking?" Cal asked with a bluntness Annie wanted to kiss him for displaying.

  "I would love to know." Bev leaned forward, squinting at him from across the table.

  "I did come here to sleep with your daughter,” he said with utter smoothness and preciseness while watching Beverly’s eyes bulge. “But it's because I'm in love with her. It’s because I don’t want to be without her."

  Silence descended over the room. Even Barney was quiet.

  "I … I asked Annie…” he began but stopped. He looked at Annie, thinking she would want to be the one to tell her mother the news.

  "Mom, Cal asked me to marry him."

  Beverly's jaw dropped. The wind from her sarcastic sails blew away.

  Annie extended her left hand across the table and showed her mother the vintage ring. Beverly looked at her daughter, then at the ring. Back and forth.

  "Son of a bitch!" Bev finally exclaimed. "My God." She put a palm near her chest and fanned herself. "My God."

  Annie's mother looked up at Cal a moment, her animosity toward him seeming to soften, and then she touched Annie's hand and rubbed her fingers over the platinum.

  "No wonder you were emotional, sweetie. Is this what you want?" Beverly leaned forward, speaking as if Cal weren’t even in the room. "It's a big deal. This is your life. Your goals."

  "It is, Mom. It's what I want." A beautiful confidence colored her cheeks, lighting her eyes like a rainbow across the sky.

  Soaking it all in for a few seconds, Beverly looked at the two of them, and then she stood with her empty plate, paused, and peered at Cal. “Well, you most certainly better stay here. Annie doe
sn't even know how badly she needs to be—"

  "Mother!" Annie interjected. "For God’s sake."

  Beverly laughed and set her plate by the sink. "What? Everyone knows how horny pregnant women are. Now you can—"

  "Stop, Mom. Please."

  Beverly mumbled under her breath, then put a smoke in her mouth. She went toward the door, the cigarette jiggling between her lips as she talked to herself.

  Right. Now it would be Beverly who needed comforting. Annie could see the wheels turning inside her mother's discombobulated head, probably planning the damn wedding. Annie was just glad her mom would be out of the room, even if only for a few minutes.

  “I’m sorry, Cal.”

  "Annie, if my mother..." he started, then got choked up. He gathered his thoughts. "If my mother were here, she’d be raising plenty of hell too. Don't worry." He rubbed her back.

  “Your mother wasn’t an alcoholic.” Her eyes flicked to the nearly empty jug of wine.

  “Does she drink like this every day?”

  “Yes,” she whispered, trying to swallow the pizza past the gigantic lump in her throat. “I didn’t know … I didn’t know if you wanted me to tell her right away about your mom.”

  “I’ll tell her … when she comes back in." He inhaled deeply as his hands curled into fists. "It was probably better that we waited.”

  After wiping her greasy fingers on her napkin, she touched the back of Cal’s head.

  “Your hair is so short." She tried to grab at the razor-clipped pieces. “I barely have any to hold on to.”

  “You didn’t have a problem grabbing onto me in the kitchen." He grinned.

  “Nor did you.” She smirked while bumping a shoulder into his. She pushed her plate away.

  “I wanted it short. I let it grow out while I was at Mom’s.”

  “What?” she stuttered. “What do you mean you grew it out?”

  “I never had it cut.”

  “Holy shit." Annie tried to imagine what he must’ve looked like, and she wished he’d sent her a selfie. "That must’ve felt good.”

  “It did, actually. I grew a beard too.”

  She caressed the back of his head again. “You’re a wild and crazy man, Calvin Prescott." She swiped her knuckles along his jawline. "Grow it again."