Teaching Willow: Session Four

by James, Paige

  My nerves are raw as I wait for Ebon to finish.

  “I loaded up my father’s coke spoon and watched him overdose. I watched him convulse. I watched the life leave his eyes. I could’ve stopped it, could’ve helped him. But I didn’t. I wanted him gone. Out of my life. Forever. As long as he was alive, people–and not just me or you–would be in danger. I guess I’ve lived knowing that all these years, but knowing that they would come after you...imagining what they might do…”

  I feel an angry shiver tighten the muscles of his torso before he shifts in front of me. I barely lift my head as he pivots in my hands to put his chest to mine, beating heart to beating heart. When his arms come around me, they’re hesitant at first, but when I melt against him, unable to stop myself, Ebon pulls me in tight against him. I turn my cheek to his pectoral and tuck my hands between us. I can’t let him draw me too close. I still haven’t told him about my bump…my baby bump.

  “Is that what your mother was trying to do to me? To use me as some kind of…of…leverage to get you to do her bidding?”

  “Yes, that’s exactly what she was doing. Just like with Talia, she knew you were my weakness. Seeing you lying on that bed…knowing what my mother planned to do, what she’d already done…I’m not sorry that they’re dead. I only wish it had happened sooner. I’m just glad Mom didn’t know the kind of man that I’ve become. Or how much that man loves you.”

  He loves me.

  Ebon loves me.

  This would be perfect if only…if only I knew how he would react to the news about the baby.

  I feel elated and panicked, as though everything–the past, the present, the future–are all hanging in the balance. I have life-changing news to share with him. It could draw him closer to me or push him away forever. But he has to know. I have to tell him. He’ll either want us both or…he won’t.

  I lift my head, raising my watering eyes to his tender ones. “Ebon, there’s something else I have to tell you,” I begin, swallowing the ball of cowardice that seems to be swelling in my throat.

  Gently, Ebon tucks a damp piece of hair behind my ear. “You can tell me anything. It won’t change how I feel about you,” he declares, throwing my own sentiment back at me with a sweet, lopsided smile.

  “Oh god, I pray that’s true.” I can’t do it this way, with him holding me so close, staring so lovingly down into my eyes. It’s too much. I need space to breathe because my lungs have stopped working. I’m terrified he’ll think this was part of my plan, part of my ploy.

  I push away from him, turning to walk a few feet away before I spin to face him. There’s an urgency trilling along my nerve ends. It’s now or never. Right this minute. He has to know.

  I spread my arms out wide, my stretchy shirt pulling tight over the bump of my belly. His eyes first search my face, then they flick left and right to my extended arms, and then they fall. They sweep me to my feet first before zooming back to my stomach and stopping there.

  Ebon’s lips part the tiniest bit and his eyes rise to lock on mine. Before he can speak, I confess. Quickly. Decisively. “I’m pregnant, Ebon. With your child. Our child. A baby girl.”

  All the pent up emotion, all the angst and fear, all the hopelessness and anxiety, all the love and desperation come rushing to the surface to overwhelm me. I stand before Ebon, bared to him in ways that I’ve never been exposed before, and I cry. Tears roll uncontrollably down my cheeks, but I say nothing, make no sound. I wait. I just…wait.

  With steps so slow it feels like an eternity passes between each one, Ebon closes the distance between us. His shocked eyes flicker from my face to my stomach and back again a dozen times.

  The tears come even harder when it seems that he’s not going to say anything either. The seconds tick by like lifetimes, and my heart plummets with each one.

  Until he drops to his knees in front of me, reaching out with reverent fingers to lift my shirt and roll it up over my belly.

  “A little girl?” he asks, his voice barely audible.

  I can’t speak past the raw, bleeding place in my throat, so I nod.

  I watch from above as Ebon leans his forehead against my bump, his hands slipping around my thickening waist to hold me to him.

  “A little girl,” I hear him say, this time in wonder.

  I lower my arms, tentatively running my fingers into Ebon’s hair, needing to touch him even though his arms around wrapped around me. We stay like that for a long time, Ebon not moving, me crying like a crazy person.

  Finally, I feel his grip loosen and he stands. When he looks down at me, I see the sheen of his eyes, the spiky, wet lashes that frame them, and I know I’ll never be a whole person without this man in my life.

  “I l-love you, Ebon,” I tell him again in my stuttering, hiccupping way. “I’ve only ever loved you. And I only ever will.”

  With exquisite tenderness, Ebon smiles and cups my face, pressing his lips to mine in a kiss that I feel in the deepest parts of my soul. “I love you, Willow Masters. I will only ever love you. And our daughter. I will only ever give you both the very best of me. Always.”

  Like I’m made of glass, Ebon bends and sweeps me gently into his arms, never taking his eyes off mine as he carries me to the bedroom.

  I don’t look around. I don’t bother because I don’t care. I’m lost in the eyes of the man I love and that’s all that matters to me. That’s all that will ever matter to me. Ebon and his love, and the baby that will be born from our passion.

  TWENTY-SIX- EBON

  Every inch of Willow’s skin that I bare looks different than it did before. Every kiss that I place feels different. I love her. And she loves me. She knows me, baggage and all, and she still wants to share her body, her love and our child with me. There is nothing else in life, nothing that matters more.

  I listen to the heaviness of her breathing as I brush my lips over her chest. I hear the soft gasp of her passion as I bare her fuller breasts, as I nibble her thicker nipples. The need that I have for her is blended with a reverence, a tenderness that I’ve never felt before, making every touch meaningful, every glance just…more.

  I press featherlight kisses over her swollen belly, my head reeling with the knowledge that we truly fucked a flame into being. Willow gave herself to me. I poured myself into her. And we will soon have a child that will live and breathe because of our love for one another.

  When I part her slim thighs and inhale the sweet scent of her arousal, my heart expands to a capacity I never thought myself capable of, making my first taste of her nearly intoxicating. It’s with a deeper desire, a more profound passion that I drive my tongue into her, that I lap up every drop of her climax.

  With her fingers tugging my hair, urging me up to cover her, I ease my cock into her hot, wet body, shuddering at the intensity of the sensation, at the feeling of being home and life being worth living again.

  “God, I’ve missed this,” I tell her, withdrawing and sliding back into her, inch by slow inch. “I’ve missed you.” I kiss her, long and deep, my tongue matching the movements of my body in hers.

  “No amount of masturbating could take away this ache,” she pants to me. “Nothing can satisfy me like you do. Nothing in the world.”

  I pause, teasing her with short, circular strokes. “You masturbated, thinking of me?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  Blood throbs in my shaft. “Did you finger yourself, wishing it was my cock?” I ask, thrusting into her a little more forcefully, the image of her pleasuring herself pushing me harder.

  “Yes,” she admits breathily. “I even bought a vibrator that has a piece for back here,” she says, guiding my hand around her hip to her ass cheek. “I know how much you like that.”

  My pulse is racing and my body is begging me to pound into her, to stab her deep, but I’m holding back.

  “But you like it, too, right?” I ask, trying to hold on to my control.

  “I love it, baby. I fucking love it,” she growls passionately,
her body tightening around mine like a silky fist.

  “I fucking love you,” I groan. “Oh god!”

  Willow lifts her hips to meet my thrusts, begging me to go deeper. My muscles tremble with the effort to resist, to hold back for her and for the baby.

  “Ebon, let go,” she whispers.

  “I-I’m afraid. The baby…”

  “You won’t hurt her. You won’t hurt either of us. Now fuck me like you mean it. Fuck me like you love me.”

  With a growl of my own, I pull out and slam back into her, reveling in the way she gasps. “Like that, baby?”

  “Yes!”

  She writhes beneath me and I bend to take a nipple into my mouth, biting lightly on it as I spread her legs wider and bang my body into hers. Willow raises her knees to take more of me just before she explodes around my cock, her pussy sucking at me like a sweet, dripping mouth. One more thrust is all I can give her before I’m following her over the edge, spewing into her, spilling my love into hers.

  “I love you, Ebon Daniels,” she cries, her legs clenching around me.

  “And I love you, Willow. It was always you. My Willow.”

  The last thing I feel is the wetness of her tears hitting my cheek as I press my face to hers.

  EPILOGUE- WILLOW

  Three months later

  “Are you sure you want to do this?” I ask Ebon as we pull to a stop exactly one block away from my parents’ house.

  The smile he gives me is steady and unwavering, much like Ebon himself. “Absolutely. You need this. And I want this for you, for our future.”

  I inhale deeply and exhale slowly. “Alright. You asked for it.”

  He reaches over to take my hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “I did. Because I’d do anything for you. And I know how important this is.”

  I lean my head against the headrest and just stare at this wonderful man. “How in the world did I get so lucky?”

  “Luck had nothing to do with it. It was fate, plain and simple. You were made for me. Just for me.”

  I smile into his luminous eyes. I love his possessiveness. It’s thrilling to be wanted so much and comforting to be cared for so much. As long as Ebon is by my side, I know that there is nothing to fear from life. Or from people. I have everything I need in him.

  He accelerates through the stop sign and takes the next left, putting us on the street where I grew up. “Second one on the right,” I tell him.

  As he eases the car into the driveway, I see the curtains in the living room move. I’m not at all surprised that my parents were watching for us, all too curious, I’m sure, to see what Ebon drives and how we act when we think no one is watching. When he shifts into park and cuts the engine, I lean over to kiss him gently on the lips and rub my nose against his. He stretches his big palm across my near-bursting belly, which he so often does, reminding me of the connection that we share, of the family that we will soon become.

  “Don’t worry, baby. It’ll be fine. I promise.”

  “I trust you.”

  He smiles. “Good. You should.”

  Ebon gets out and comes around to my side to open the door and help my awkward ass out of the car. I can just imagine how my mother gasped and covered her mouth and how my father’s lips thinned in fury when they saw me just now. There’s no mistaking my current maternal state and this is the first they’ve heard of it.

  We amble up the sidewalk toward the front door, Ebon’s hand resting comfortingly on my achy lower back. When we stop, he clacks the knocker against the front door. Even such a small act, one he performs without hesitation or intimidation, reminds me that he’s in charge and that I’m in good hands. The best hands. His hands.

  My father opens the door, disapproval written all over his face.

  “Mr. Masters,” Ebon begins casually. “A pleasure to see you again, sir.” He offers his hand. Dad glares at it for at least five seconds before he takes it.

  When he doesn’t say anything immediately, I ask, “Can we come in?”

  “Of course,” my mother says, piping up from behind him. Being the uppity person that she is, I can always count on her to mind her manners in front of strangers. “Can I get you something to drink?” she asks, her eyes and her haughty expression trained on Ebon.

  “No, I’m fine, thanks. Willow?” he asks, turning to me, always considerate.

  “A glass of water would be nice, Mom.”

  She nods and floats off to the kitchen in her beauty queen way. I’ve always thought my mom acts as though she’s on life’s big beauty pageant stage, with her fake smile and her practiced grace. Few people know what she’s really like. She’s a very convincing actress. Sage is the same way, only without all the polish or pretense. Her vapidness is pretty much out there for all the world to see, whereas Mom hides it well in most cases.

  Dad leads us into the living room and Mom quickly returns with a tall glass of water, brimming with ice cubes and garnished with a lemon wedge and a mint leaf. Hoity toity.

  Ebon and I sit together on the couch. He immediately takes my fingers and laces them with his own before resting our entwined hands on his thigh. If there was any doubt about why he’s here or what our relationship is (which I seriously doubt there could’ve been), he put it to rest with this subtle statement. He’s laying claim.

  My mother perches demurely on the edge of a small settee while my father stands across from us, his hands stuffed into his pockets and his face rolling with thunder.

  “I see that you’ve further disgraced my daughter, Daniels,” Dad snaps without preamble.

  Ebon’s fingers tighten around mine for a fraction of a second before they relax again. His expression isn’t overtly hostile, but I know him well enough to read him when others probably can’t. My father has no idea that he’s treading on thin ice.

  “I’m sorry you feel that way, Mr. Masters, but maybe I can put your mind at ease,” Ebon says politely. He glances at me, his lips going from a tight, controlled smile to a genuine and warm one. His eyes are alight with love, making my chest glow with an inner heat that only he can achieve. When he turns his attention back to my father, I leave my eyes on him. I’d much rather look at Ebon, full of happiness and love, than my father, full of everything that makes me feel small and sick. “I’ve come to ask for your daughter’s hand.”

  Silence falls like a blanket across the room. My parents couldn’t look more shocked or more displeased. I couldn’t feel more surprised or more elated. I thought we were simply here to let my parents know about the baby.

  “Wh-what?” I ask, happily stunned.

  When he brings his eyes back to mine, they’re shining. I know that if I had a mirror, mine would look the same way.

  “You’ve got some nerve,” my father begins in his blustering way. “If you think–”

  Ebon’s head snaps back to Dad and he interrupts him, his voice like ice, cold and hard. “All due respect, sir, but your answer isn’t going to stop me from marrying your daughter if she’ll have me. I thought it would be nice if you could learn to love her and cherish her as much as I have, if you could see your way to being a part of her life and the lives of our children. But. Make no mistake, I will make Willow happy in this life, with or without you. There will be no more intrusions into her life without her express consent. There will be no more accusations, no more conversations with her doctors, no more decisions made outside her will and knowledge. If you hear nothing else that I’ve said, hear this: She is mine for as long as she’ll have me. I will take care of her, whether you like it or not, and you will interfere with her wellbeing only if it’s over my dead, lifeless body.” I’m convinced I could hear a pin drop from all the way across town. Both my parents’ mouths are agape and Ebon is nothing short of fierce. I’ve never been more proud to call him mine. When they make no attempts to speak, he offers a chilly smile and asks politely, “I hope I was able to make myself clear.”

  My father’s face, although red, shows a modicum of respect that
I’ve never seen there before. I can tell that he’d love to say something, probably something neither of us would like, but he shows restraint and simply nods instead.

  Ebon returns his curt nod before he looks to me. His expression softens instantly, taking on that subtle something that always melts my insides.

  He slides off the couch and falls to one knee at my feet. When he removes a small black, velvet box from his pocket, my heart thumps to a stop. He pops it open, revealing a gorgeous diamond ring. When I raise my watering eyes to his, I see that his expression is full of all the adoration and wonderment that I feel every time I look at him, every time he kisses me or touches me, every time our child moves inside me.

  “Willow Masters, will you marry me? Will you let me take care of you for the rest of our days? Let me love you and support you? Provide for you and take care of you? Will you let me be a father to Talia and to all the other children we might be blessed with? Will you be mine…forever?”

  As always, hearing him say our daughter’s name–a name that we both chose as a reminder of what we’ve suffered, of where we came from and of how we made it to each other–gives me a surge of emotion. The name of our child added to the amazing words he just spoke to me, in front of my family, is enough to crush me in the most beautiful way, right here for everyone to see.

  When I don’t answer, too choked up and too awestruck to speak right away, he continues. “I promise never to let anyone hurt you. I promise never to let anyone take you away from me. I’ll spend my life…my whole life…making sure that you’re as happy as one man can make the woman he loves.” He leans in, brushing his lips over my cheek and whispering words that only I can hear. “I offer myself to you again with a heart even more your own than when you almost broke it.” It’s a quote from Jane Austen’s Persuasion. It’s perfect–that we would begin, that our love would be born through our passion for literature, and that he would integrate it into one of our life’s most important moments. No one else would get it, no one else would understand. But I do. It’s ours. Together. A precious, gilded tie that binds our souls in yet another incredible way.