floor. Onto his lap he places a small carton. That carton. The one filled with photographs of him and
Jake and his Christmas watch. Out of it he lifts the black pouch with his marbles inside and places it
on the sofa.
Momentarily he stops and looks into my eyes, forcing me to meet his gaze with a curious stare.
Words appear to be stuck in his mouth like melted caramel.
What’s wrong?
“All … All I’ve ever wanted was for you to believe in me Beth.”
I place my hand on his. “I do Ayden. I always have, even when you were no more than a faded
memory.”
“I never stopped believing in you. In us.”
“I know.”
“I want to show you something …” From the top of the pile of photographs, he lifts a faded black
and white and hands it to me. No words.
As I look at it I feel his eyes on me; he’s gauging my reaction. Reflexively I feel my eyes widening
and my breath hitching at what I see. My eyes cloud over with tears and I wrap my teeth around a
quivering lip.
I’m looking at three children stood in front of a Victorian House. In the middle is a tall boy with
black hair and eyes the colour of the Caribbean Sea. He has his arms around two small girls. To his
left is a blonde girl, looking fearlessly into the camera. To his right is a smaller girl with brown
wayward hair tied up at the front by a pink bow. She has her thumb in her mouth and she’s turning into
him, hiding, seeking his protection.
That little girl is me.
Fighting back tears I mutter, “I have this picture Ayden, at home in my dad’s chest under my bed.”
He’s taken by surprise. “You do?” He rubs his hand across his mouth, stemming an emotional tide
as it threatens to engulf him. “It’s us Beth.”
“It is.” Happy teardrops fall onto the flowers on my dress like morning dew; as the droplets unfurl,
so does his biggest secret of all. We have loved each other for most of our lives.
“Tell me about this picture.” I nuzzle into him, holding it between us; undeniable evidence, if any
were needed, that our fateful reunion was preordained.
“I took care of you for a week while your dad worked on the house.” I feel his lips on my hair and
hot breath leaving his mouth as he speaks in slow, unhampered syllables. This is a story he has waited
over two decades to tell.
“You were such a timid little thing. I think I loved you the instant you climbed down from your
dad’s van and you turned to look at me with your big blue eyes. For years, all I could see was your shy
smile.” He pauses, absorbed in that memory. “We were inseparable. We’d play hide and seek but I
think you wanted to be found. You were terrible at hiding and I would hear you giggling from 10 yards
away. I always found you.”
He triggers a memory. “I remember waiting to be found. I loved it there with you; you used to tell
me I was a princess. I’d stand on my dad’s ladder, waiting to be rescued. You always came.” I take a
minute to compose myself. “All these years, I’ve been waiting for you to come and rescue me. And
now you have.” I wrap my arms around him so tightly I fear I may crush him.
“I’m the one who needs rescuing Beth,” he declares, earnestly.
“Then we’ll rescue each other Ayden.”
His arms enfold me like a protective shell. “I want that more than you know Beth.” He folds into
me and I feel the weight of his neediness on my head; soft lips and the weight of the world behind
them.
With only the rumble of distant traffic and the hissing of the fire we remain motionless, a fusion of
lost souls, recently unearthed and reunited; neither of us willing to shatter this overwhelming sense of
togetherness.
“Ayden. In my photo my dad’s van is visible. But here it’s not.” I lift the photo into the light.
“There was no record of him having done work at Bright Hill. Turns out he did it for free when he
had no work on. There were no receipts. Nothing to go on. You moved away and every avenue I went
down led to a dead end.”
I’m quick to interject. “But you didn’t give up. You didn’t marry anyone else …”
“There was no-one else for me. Only you.” He lifts me from his chest, willing me to see the
sincerity on his eyes. “And that will never change. Baby no-one will ever come between us.”
“Not even Elise?”
“Especially not Elise.” He points to the photo. “She’s history.”
I sit back. “That’s Elise?”
“Yes, before … you know …”
“Fuck! Does she know who I am?”
He’s shaking his head vehemently. “No. She has no way of knowing and I think its best we keep it
that way. The less she knows about you the better.” He places the photo back into the carton and
returns it to the floor. “Let’s not talk about her anymore. I’d rather talk about my two favourite girls.”
I’m laughing softly. “You don’t know you have two. I might just be late with my period.”
He’s lifting a brow and shaking his head, looking so adorable. All I want to do is smother him in
kisses. “No way. I think, that night when I made love to you, I gave you a baby. In fact I’m convinced
I did.”
“You’re very sure of yourself.”
He laughs out loud. “This is true.”
“Alright. I’ll take a pregnancy test tomorrow and then we’ll know for sure. We’ll see if your
instincts are good.”
“We will. Then we can start making plans …”
Just the look of excitement on his face has me giggling.
“What’s tickling you Mrs. Stone?” he asks, flattening the material on my dress.
I’m finding it so hard to explain myself with a smile permanently fixed on my face. “You.”
“Happy to keep you entertained, dear wife.” He runs his thumb along my chin seductively. “If it’s
alright with you, I’ll make it my sole purpose in life to keep you thoroughly entertained.” The wink
says it all.
All I can do is smile and nod like a crazy woman.
As our constellation disappears beneath an inky blanket of urban sky, we begin to feel hemmed in
on all four sides. All we have is each other; it’s us against the world. Nothing else matters.
The flames from the fire dance to the rhythm of the autumn breeze. I feel the distance between us
closing. It was no more than inches. Now it’s millimetres and barely measurable; a hair’s breath,
stirred by the prospect of intimacy and sex so carnal in nature, my face heats and flushes at the
thought. Through telepathy, intuition or simple good timing, Ayden makes his move.
With no more than a sigh, he quicksteps into romance with the agility of a male ballet dancer.
“Cute dress, by the way,” he whispers, wrapping his tongue around my right ear lobe. “Are you very
attached to it?”
I wriggle away. “Yes, I am. Don’t you even think of ripping it off.”
He tickles my neck with a smile. “I wouldn’t dare.”
“Oh, yes, you would.” I giggle, half hoping he’s telling one of his white lies.
With a single finger he lifts my chin, gazing into my eyes with the intensity of a laser beam. “No. I
wouldn’t, not tonight. I’m going to make love to my wife the way I should have on our wedding night.
There will be no tearing of clothes. The only sound I want to hear is the sounds you make when you
>
orgasm.”
Oh my …
I swallow deeply. “Is that all?”
“Yes.” He rubs my nose with his. “That, and my name.”
“I can do that,” I state, taking great delight in the verbal foreplay.
A wide smile forms slowly. “Good girl.”
With a single finger he traces an invisible line from my chin across my collarbone, slipping it
beneath my dress in a sensual exploration of erogenous zones. He knows them all like the back of his
hand. He unclips my hair and ruffles it about my shoulders, using those skilled hands of his to
stimulate my body into wakefulness.
“You say the where and the how and leave the rest to me,” he urges, skirting around my mouth with
lips wetted by a moist tongue. He’s moving in for the master stroke; he’s caressing my face, tracing
the shape of cheekbones and skin, manhandling me as an artist would his finest creation. I feel
treasured.
I place my palms onto his chest, feeling my own virile work of art flexing and tensing under my
splayed fingers. When his mouth finds mine I clench my fingers, grasping handfuls of cotton in
response to all this sensory stimulation. I break free of his kiss to catch my breath, leaving him free to
roam and the sensation of a day’s growth on my neck only excites me more. The searing eruption of
energy radiating from my body escapes as indecipherable sounds of pleasure.
“Make love to me Ayden,” I implore, desperate to consummate a love for him that has spanned 22
years of my life.
He pauses. “Here? In front of God and the universe?”
“Yes. But I think I need more champagne, first.” I hold out my glass for a top up.
“No, you don’t. You need me.” He pulls me to him forcefully, wrapping his arms around my neck
until we are wedged together, inseparable. “I’ve never brought anyone up here before Beth.”
I still have my glass; I’m holding it behind his back like a secret weapon. “I believe you.” I have to.
There’s not a trace of a lie, only elation at the prospect of sexual unification.
“Mm ...” He inhales deeply, setting himself, preparing for a command performance.
My hunger for him peaks. I’ve been starved of attention for over two days. Up until this point, his
kisses have been no more than a delicious collection of hors d'oeuvres. Now his simmering passion is
set to boil over and I‘m mentally preparing myself for an immensely satisfying, five star banquette.
As my body melts into his, the glass falls from my fingers, hitting the floor with a crash. It’s of no
consequence. There will be more glasses but there will be no more nights like this; our wedding night.
Through parted lips he whispers, “I still can’t believe I’ve found you and we’re here like this.
Together.”
“Believe it Ayden.” I scarcely have time to utter the final syllable, before he grasps my hips and
pulls me roughly to him.
“Fuck! I love you. I need to be inside you.”
I gasp at the intensity of his words. Instinctively, I lean towards the make-shift bed.
“No! I can’t. Not here. I want you in my bed …”
“Our bed.”
His mouth twitches. “Yes. I want you in our bed. That’s where we should be spending our wedding
night. Fuck the stars. Their work is done.”
That single declaration makes me smile. In a hurried dash we retrace our steps back to the lift,
following the little white lights on the floor as if they are star dust. He flicks a switch and, as I turn
preparing to descend, I catch sight of the terrace shrouded in darkness except for the ethereal glow of
the full moon. It makes for an unforgettable backdrop.
I feel his grip tightening on my hand and I match it with my own. Resting my head on his right
bicep, I reaffirm our connection and wait for the smallest of jerks as we reach the first floor.
Like the lovers we are, we stroll hand in hand along the corridor, turning right into our bedroom in
a matter of seconds. My heart is fluttering, anticipating … I don’t know what.
No sooner have we entered the bedroom than he turns to face me. With considered words he
prepares to spell out just how he feels. “We’ve had so many obstacles put in our way Beth, and we’ve
managed to overcome every single one.” He slides a loving hand across my cheek, until it rests
beneath my hairline; his thumb caresses my cheek as I rest onto his open palm. “Having the gift of
your love makes me the richest and most grateful man on this imperfect planet.”
“You say the sweetest things Ayden. I’ve discovered riches beyond my wildest dreams and it’s
nothing to do with money. You are my most precious possession.”
“Baby, you have no idea how it moves me to hear you say that.”
“Yes, I do. I see it in your eyes. From the moment you wake to that very last glance at the end of
the day. I see myself reflected in your eyes. This is where I belong.”
“Yes, it is.” He arches into me, applying the slightest of pressure until I feel his throbbing erection
pressing against me like a hard slab of granite; the flowers on my dress are crushed but present no
resistance. He’s teasing me with kisses, waiting for that garbled noise to escape my mouth, signalling
my arousal. Slow, deliberate grinding is his preferred mode of operation.
He spins me around until my cheek rests comfortably on the wall. To my right, I see us reflected in
a full length mirror, his powerful body pressed up against mine, holding me captive. I watch as he
raises my hands and places them on the wall left and right, lifts my dress with both hands, and falls to
his knees to nibble at my flexing cheeks. My lacy panties give way easily and are tossed on the floor,
leaving me naked from the waist down and utterly open to curious fingers and a hungry mouth. He’s
sucking, licking, biting. The sounds of pleasure bubbling up from his throat are a reverential
expression of awe. I am loved.
Grasping my hips firmly, he climbs my body. I close my eyes and breathe in the virile cocktail of
cologne and sex on his hands as they are woven into mine; fingers touching fingers, thumbs stroking
thumbs.
I feel his hot breath before I hear his words and anticipate soft coaxing, but …
“I have always been careful with you Beth. I feared I might hurt you if I fucked you too hard or for
too long but, tonight, I don’t think I’ll be able to hold back.”
I swallow hard, feeling his grip tightening on my hands. Is he serious? Is this one of his games
where fear is used to intensify my arousal? Whatever he’s doing, it’s working. I ache for him; it’s an
endless ache that has evolved over time and been fortified through physical longing. I’m shivering
with nervous excitement. I try to say two words without faltering. “Then don’t.”
In a whisper, he reminds me. “If you want me to stop, use the safe word.”
I’m in need of no further coaxing. “I trust you Ayden.”
With that assertion he turns me around to face him. I raise my hands to unbutton his shirt.
“No. Your husband wants to undress you and possess you. No amount of modesty on your part will
keep me from your body tonight.” Gently, he places my hands by my sides and begins unbuttoning his
shirt, carelessly pulling it over his hands and throwing it to one side. My eyes widen at the sight of
him; body and soul, he is perfection. He’s unbuttoning his jeans and sl
iding them down with his
boxers. In no more than ten seconds he’s standing before me, powerfully naked and primed.
Fuck!
I feel helpless. I can’t contain my arousal. My chest flushes and I blush, unable to suppress the heat
radiating off him, through me, projecting a crimson glow. “What do you plan to …?”
“Hush.” His voice silences mine. “Sit on the chair.”
The chair?
He nods towards the easy chair by the window and takes my hand. “Sit down.”
I lift up my shoe for him to remove it and he smirks. Clearly I’m not there to have my shoes
removed, but he does it anyway and places them to one side. Here I sit, very prim and proper in my
summer dress, hair about my shoulders and hands sitting on my lap. When I look up I come face to
face with a bulging cock. It holds my attention. Unthinkingly, I lift up my hands to stroke it but Ayden
takes hold of my wrists, shakes his head and pushes me away, resting my hands on the arms of the
chair.
What’s he going to do?
He kneels before me, resting his buttocks on his heels and mentally leaves me. He’s caught up in a
daydream. I’ll wait for his return.
A long minute later he comes back to me, lifting his head to acknowledge my presence. His hands
find my shins and move northwards.
What is he thinking?
“These knees. I know these knees.”
What can I say to that? “You do?”
“Yes. We’re old friends.”
I need to hear this. “Tell me about them.”
The memory appears from the mists of time and his eyes cloud over as it forms. “Each day, your
dad would drop you off and you’d scoot off inside to find me. Sometimes I’d hide and you’d charge
about shouting, ‘Saphi, Saphi!’ I’d hear you and my day just brightened at the sound of your sweet
voice. Other times, I‘d trot downstairs to meet you and you’d run into my arms, and I’d sweep you up
and spin you around until you were dizzy. Your giggle was contagious. I’d laugh with you and catch
you as you wobbled.
One day we were playing and I was called inside, I don’t know why. You went over to the
playground. I told you to wait but you were too excited to listen to a word I said. See … you liked to
climb and went straight for the monkey bars. You loved to look down and imagine you could fly, and
TouchStone for giving (The Story of Us Trilogy) Page 46