Bound Hearts

by C. C. Galloway

  “Works for me,” he murmured and gave her the ride of her life with his tongue. By the time she recovered, she’d organized her thoughts, thoughts that had flown out the window of her brain at the first touch of his hot, wet tongue.

  “David?”

  “Yes?”

  He was laying on his side, stroking her stomach, his erection resting on his stomach.

  “You know I love everything we’ve been doing for the last few weeks, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “And you know I’m completely on board with, you know, being submissive with you, right?”

  A hint of wariness crept in his eyes as he continued stroking her and responding to her questions.

  “Yes.”

  She turned towards him and threw her right leg over his. “This morning, I want to be in charge. I want to be on top. You okay with that?”

  She waited for his response, fully aware of the fact her one simple, concise question could unquestionably alter the outcome of their relationship. He continued to stare at her and finally the left side of his mouth turned up as he answered.

  “I guess that would be alright,” he responded, pulling her more fully on top of his cock so she was resting right at his sweet spot.

  “I’m going to kiss you right now,” she murmured, mimicking his style of always telling her exactly what he was planning to do next while she leaned down to place her lips on his. He grasped her knees on either side of his waist and began stroking their backs while she continued kissing him. Pulling back from his lips and up from his chest, she scooted down and placed his cock right at her entrance and stopped before she could take him inside.

  “I’m going to make love to you now, David,” she whispered, her eyes never breaking contact with his as she kneeled above his penis and settled on top for a nice, long ride. She moved up and down, alternating the pace and the penetration in an effort to prolong the act as long as possible until neither of them could bear it any longer. When they both drifted back from their orgasms, she was momentarily embarrassed to find herself draped over his body like a limp noodle and attempted to roll back over to her side of the bed. Before she could do so, he stopped her movement by trapping her with his brawny arms and clasping her ass.

  “Where do you think you’re going?”

  “I’m not exactly a small woman. I ah, thought you’d appreciate it if I moved off you.”

  His eyes shone with recognition of a woman’s nerves as he began moving his hands all over her butt and the lower part of her back. If she could, she would have settled in as much as possible into his proud and powerful chest. “Calleigh, you’re perfect. You’re perfect on my chest, like this. I don’t want you to move unless you’re uncomfortable. I love the way you feel right now.”

  § § §

  Tender feelings for the woman coursed through him, like a heavy current he couldn’t stop and didn’t want to if he could have. The last few days, hours and minutes spent with Calleigh, in bed and out, had been an eye-opener. Before with his partners, he’d always seen to their needs as a way of satisfying his own desires. With Calleigh, he wanted to pleasure her simply for the sake of pleasing her. Every heavy sigh, every teasing and tender touch, every time her pussy clenched him, gripped him, and refused to let him go, was a loving act, a benediction, in and of itself revealing feelings he never believed himself capable of.

  She turned her head on his chest and looked up at him, her green eyes luminous.

  “You sure?”

  He squeezed the round, perfect globes of her ass in response. “Don’t make me punish you, Calleigh,” he teased, his tone and his touch telegraphing how much he was enjoying having her exactly where she was. She rubbed her nose across his chest.

  “What do you want to do?” he asked again. “We could grab some breakfast if you’re hungry. I noticed your refrigerator’s a little barren, otherwise I’d offer to make you breakfast in bed.”

  “Really? You’d do that for me?”

  “I’d do a lot of things for you. But seriously? Your kitchen is sad.”

  “It’s not sad. It’s lean.”

  “It’s not lean, Calleigh. It’s fucking bankrupt. Skim milk, bananas, and granola are not sufficient for a thirty-two year-old woman. Do you eat all your meals out?”

  “No.”

  “Calleigh, look at me.”

  When she did, he continued. “You know, I could strangle your mother for being responsible for your headfuck with food.”

  She immediately stiffened and again tried to move off him, but his strong hands kept her in place. “Easy, there. Look. I’m not stupid. You barely ate a few bites when I cooked the other night, you had no dressing on your salad, and didn’t even look at the bread. Since then, whenever I’ve tried to feed you, you practically recoil at the suggestion of anything halfway decent, like cheese, or eggs or pizza. You looked like you were going to faint away last night when you realized there were no low calorie options available. And the two bites you did have? Not enough to sustain you. Your body is fantastic, but you don’t see it. I know this derives from your mother, but as a team, we have to work through it.” He hoped his words soothed as much as his hands he trailed up and down the entire length of her back.

  “You’re not fat, Calleigh. If anything, a few extra pounds would look good on you.”

  “You say that now, but I’m sure if I plumped up you’d dump me,” she countered

  He squeezed her rear slightly harder than he had been, but continued stroking her back with his other hand. “No, I say it because it’s true. You’re thin, Calleigh and you could afford to put on another ten to fifteen pounds. Easily. If you put on even more than that? I’d be okay with it if you were happy and healthy.”

  “You’re honestly telling me we’d be doing this,” she indicated the horizontal pretzel of their bodies, “if I was thirty pounds heavier?”

  “Yes, Calleigh, I am. It takes a lot more than a toned body to make me hard and want to be with a woman. I hate to tell you this, but bodies change, especially as we age. If all I wanted was a hard body, there are a million other women I could be with at any given moment. That’s not what attraction is all about. It’s about a lot more.”

  “David?”

  “Yes?”

  “Can I tell you something and have you promise you won’t get angry?”

  “I’ll try, depending on what you say.”

  “I think you are, without a doubt, the sweetest man I have ever known.”

  Chapter 12

  Daylight savings time dusted Portland in streams of twilight around the late afternoon. Dusk settled in a good two hours before he could even consider taking off. He’d just lost one of his defensive ends to a season-ending injury, and their spring draft selections weren’t coming together the way he’d hoped. With two in the third round and one in the fifth, the Tide could pick up some quality players, but given the paucity of depth at the key positions they needed to fill and build for, he alongside the team’s coaches needed to be prepared to implement some well-executed backup plans. The team was straddling the last remaining wild card playoff position, the owners were disappointed in what appeared to be declining revenues, and his star quarterback couldn’t pull his head out of his ass long enough to secure a first down during the last few games, prompting the head coach to consider benching him, which presented a whole host of other problems, on and off the field.

  Despite all these problems, a buoyant sense of optimism surrounded him these days. David was confident the Tide would make the playoffs and possibly advance to the NFC championship game. At least, they should. The draft class promised top-notch talent that would build on the solid foundation the team had established over the last few years. Johansen’s divorce would one day be finalized and maybe then his quarterback would remember how to the throw a fucking football, secure downs, and score touchdowns.

  His mother was home, resting comfortably and prepared to take control of her health through her diet, exercise,
and medication her doctors had prescribed. He was contemplating taking Calleigh home to meet his family when the season ended, either before or after playoffs depending on how far the team advanced, although he worried it was too much, too soon in her eyes. Which it likely was, but he couldn’t wait to show her off to his family. He, who had never brought a woman home for any holiday or just because.

  Despite some of his more serious relationships, he’d never taken the more significant step of family introductions on Montana turf. Whenever his parents or brothers visited, if he was involved with someone, he introduced them to his family. Yet, he never bought a single one of them a ticket to Montana. His parents had likely long ago given up the dream of him ever marrying, but he couldn’t help but think of marriage when Calleigh entered his thoughts. Which was about every hour. This lovey-dovey relationship stuff exhilarated and terrified him because it seemed so right.

  His personal life had never been better because she both delighted and mystified him. She was smart as a whip, by far one of the smartest women he’d ever been with. Always up for anything at any time. Simply being with a woman had never felt so easy or seemed so natural. As though she was made for him and him for her. He could tell exactly what was on her mind with one look at her face. He knew her body better than she knew it herself. The spasms that signified her orgasm had started. How long her orgasms would last depending on the length and hitch of her moans and the exact angle of her hips. How her eyes darkened when she was either aroused or upset. How she would bite her lip when she was nervous, even when she was determined not to show it.

  She completely endeared herself to him when he discovered she couldn’t quite master her new smart phone so she ended up calling him half the time when she meant to text him. He also was amused at how she had to sleep on the left hand side of the bed because that was the side she’d always slept on. How she had to set the coffee maker the night before and set the timer before she could fall asleep. How she flossed every single night regardless of how tired she was. How she completely sucked at Scrabble, but kicked his ass every single time at Phase 10. How she had a secret fascination for seventies slow rock.

  He loved delighting her with food. Since her confession about her mother, he’d made it his mission in life to feed her all the wonderful foods she’d been missing out on as a result of her upbringing. Deviled eggs. Spaghetti with meatballs. Classic Reubens with cole slaw. Prime rib and au gratin potatoes. Eggs benedict with bacon and avocado. Lemon ricotta fritters with jam. Last Saturday night he’d gone all out with classic Bolognese over angel hair pasta, Caesar salad, cheesy garlic bread, and salted caramel brownies for dessert. Granted, she hadn’t eaten a ton of everything he’d put before her, but she ate enough to satisfy him.

  The look on her face made all of his hours toiling in the kitchen worth it.

  “I never would have taken you for such a fantastic cook,” she commented as she watched him finish his pasta.

  He’d shrugged. “What can I say? My mom’s a great cook and I realized as soon as I started living on my own that if I wanted to eat well, I needed to learn how to cook. As my job became increasingly more stressful, I found cooking to be a good way to relax. Everyone has to eat so it was always one of those activities I could justify regardless of everything else going on in my life at the time. Why don’t you have another piece of bread?” he’d asked her as he picked up the bread basket and offered it to her.

  She shook her head. “At this rate, those extra pounds you claim will look so great on me are set to appear within the next day or so. Seriously, David, I can’t continue to eat like this,” she protested.

  “I won’t force feed you, but as I mentioned, a few extra pounds would look good,” he said on a wink.

  Once he’d indulged her sweet tooth, there was no turning back. He quickly realized that if he had dessert on hand, she’d eat it. Cantaloupe sorbet, oatmeal chocolate chip cookies, ice cream, anything with sugar, and she’d forgo the last few rounds of her entrée to make sure she could enjoy dessert. His kind of woman.

  They delighted in working off the extra calories in bed.

  § § §

  The weeks passed as they established their routine. Most nights, he spent at her loft. He’d roll in anytime between seven, a fairly early night, and nine-thirty, a more typical arrival time. Because he enjoyed cooking, despite sixteen hour days, most nights he cooked and quickly took to stocking her fridge on the weekends buying groceries for “both their houses,” he said. They traded a few emails during the day, but they were either short and sexy “miss you”, “want you”, “I expect you naked and on your knees when I get home”, or were more pragmatic “don’t forget the orange juice” or “did you DVR Sportscenter?”

  During dinner and dishes, they debated everything and nothing. He discussed his amateur chess champion status, an honor that earned him serious nerd cred in Montana, where his contemporaries were earning 4-H ribbons in more tangible agricultural pursuits. “Some of my best memories of my dad include him teaching me the game. Helping me develop a strategy and a game plan. I use those lessons every day and every off-season,” he remarked one night.

  “Really?” she asked.

  “Absolutely. First building and then maintaining a successful football team requires vision, a plan of attack, execution of the plan, and then success through discipline. Drafts, trades, and signings are one endless chess match, only with multiple opponents.

  “Did you always know you wanted to be a math teacher?” he asked her.

  “Yes and no. I always knew I wanted to be a teacher. I loved the schedule and thought working with kids would be as good a career as any. In order to be a certified math teacher, I knew I’d have to major in math, which I enjoyed, but didn’t always perform well in.” As generous as any statement she’d ever made. Every class that followed Calculus II was a struggle.

  “That’s probably good in your job. You understand your students’ problems grasping the material better than someone who likely sailed through.”

  His perception continually disarmed her. Most people probably saw him as nothing more than a rough, tough, masculine jock, never considering all that testosterone camouflaged a keen mind and uncanny intuition. The way he approached the situation with her mother, her body-image and her weight testified to this. He displayed a surprisingly sensitive side that gutted any remaining reserve she harbored. Lately, she’d started thinking along the lines of what if. What if this relationship solidified into something permanent? What if he met Lauren? What if he tired of her? What if she became bored with him? What if he wanted kids? What if she did?

  He worked most Saturdays, but the last few, he’d opted to log in from his laptop rather than drive to his office, enjoying the benefits of technology for all the burdens it typically imposed with twenty-four/seven accessibility. Any Sunday that featured a home game meant he was at Silverton Field where the Tide played all their home games.

  Late one October Sunday evening when the Tide was playing in Chicago, she and David were sharing drying duties in her loft when her phone rang. Checking the display before sending the phone to silent mode, she looked up to see that he’d quit drying and gazed at her, his eyes unrelenting.

  “What?” she asked.

  “You can’t avoid her forever.”

  “Who?”

  He tilted his head and raised his right eyebrow as though to say, “You know exactly who I’m talking about.” Instead, he went with, “Your mom.”

  “You don’t know it was her. Maybe it was my cable company trying to sell me some premium cable channels. Don’t worry. If I succumb to their marketing ploys, I’ll be sure to order some skin channels for you. By now, someone has to have started a network known as ‘Bondage is Us’.” She loved teasing him about their sex life. Mainly because it remained fantastic and she knew he could handle it.

  “Please do. But since only three people call your cell phone, and one is in the room, that means the call you ignored came from
your mom.”

  “You think you’re so smart.”

  “I’m not being smart. The only person that would call you at seven-fifty-seven on a Sunday evening that you would answer is Mary who would either be calling for social or professional reasons. Either way, you’d take her call. Therefore the call you ignored was your mom.”

  “You’d think by now she’d have apologized,” she muttered, turning away from his eyes, focusing on the bowl that had cradled their soup only an hour before.

  “She likely thinks that’s your responsibility.”

  She whipped around, incensed. “I didn’t do anything wrong,” she protested.

  He put up a hand. “I didn’t say that you did. I only said that maybe she believes you’re the one who needs to extend the olive branch.”

  She shook her head. “I’ve spent most of my entire life trying to do the impossible, which is please Lauren Stuart. I give up.”

  “Ok. That’s good. That way you can live your life on your terms. But you still need to have your mother in your life. And one way or another, you’re going to have to repair your relationship. Since you can afford to be the more gracious and generous woman that I know you are, it’s up to you to mend this rift.”

  Frustrating man had a point. “I know you’re right. I’m less clear as to how to approach this. I’m worried that if I tell her how I feel and she makes some changes, they’ll only be temporary and she’ll slip back into her old habits.”

  He nodded his head. “Of course she’ll slide back into her old habits. Her age alone guarantees that. As does her sex,” he said with a wink.

  “I’m going to ignore your last comment,” she said.

  “You know I’m kidding. Seriously, you can’t put off fixing your relationship because you’re worried she won’t be the mother you need her to be. She’s not and she won’t be. But she can be a woman you treat with respect and love, even if you’re not close. You can’t ignore her indefinitely. We’ve got Thanksgiving coming up.”

  His words launched a ball into the pit of her stomach. Holidays meant something. Spending them together, or not, as a couple demonstrated something. She was uncomfortable bringing up the subject of his plans. Of course, she didn’t exactly have any holiday plans of her own this year. Some years, she and Lauren drove up to Seattle for a long weekend of shopping and sightseeing. Other years, they’d opted for a more international destination and popped down to Cabo for a long weekend.