My Heart Can't Tell You No

by M. K. Heffner

  “Do you want this, Maddie?”

  She looked up at him, seeing the sweat coating his face and chest. She felt a deep need to touch him but wasn’t allowed to move her hands. She knew she had never wanted anybody this much, and never would. She slowly nodded her head yes as she stared into his eyes, her lips feeling dry until her tongue moistened them.

  “Are you sure?” he insisted. “Goddamn you, Maddie! You tell me that you’re sure!!”

  She could see the restraint in his body as he pressed against her while leaning over her.

  “Let go of my hands.” Her voice was hoarse, yearning for him to fill her.

  He released them, allowing the movement she needed to reach for him; guiding him to her as her legs went around him. At her touch he almost fell on her, his restraint breaking completely. Their union was fast-paced, each needing the immediate release that only the other’s body could bring, taking Maddie higher than she had gone in such a very long time before she felt the explosion within. Her body moved uncontrollably against him, sounds escaping her that she had never realized she was capable of making. She grabbed tightly onto Joe so she wouldn’t fly away with the explosion. Then the sudden falling, spinning her around as she tried to hold his back tighter, feeling him shudder as he called out her name. Thrusting roughly into her until she was sure she would tear in two. Thrusting again and again, then the way he trembled all over, his legs pushing against her a final time until he lay motionless.

  This was her Joe. The boy she had idolized and dreamt about. The man she loved and needed. The man who showed her strength and compassion. The man who showed her tenderness as well as aggression in their lovemaking. The man who betrayed her and used her. She wouldn’t think about it. If she were to think about it now, she would go insane. Instead, she slipped her arms around him as she felt his heartbeat thumping, joining the still-quickened beat of her own.

  CHAPTER XV

  Maddie didn’t know how long Joe had lain on top of her. She didn’t know if he were sleeping or just as awake as she as the gray light flowed over them from the window at the head of the bed. She hadn’t realized it was so close to morning. Normally, after making love she was too exhausted to stay awake. It was a shock to find she was still alert—mellow, but alert. The movement of Joe’s head as he mumbled her name told her that he was indeed asleep. She didn’t mind; she took a special comfort in it. Bob usually pulled away from her as soon as he had finished, and turned to the other side of the bed. Though he would sometimes pull her against him during his sleep, he didn’t like being touched after sex.

  Joe’s hands had moved under her long ago, holding onto her shoulders, but, as he began to stir, his hands moved from beneath her, sliding over the softness of her arms. She felt the rough calloused palms send shivers tingling through her. She tried to look at his face, but her slight movement woke him. She didn’t expect his reaction; he quickly lifted himself on his elbows and looked down at her through glaring eyes.

  “Jesus Christ!” He started to pull away, but recognition entered and softened his eyes, bringing a slow, soft smile to his features as he lay back down. “Maddie.”

  “If you don’t move soon, my whole body will be asleep,” she lied, feeling a bit self-conscious and not knowing what else to say as he looked at her.

  He slowly withdrew from her while keeping his eyes fixed on her face, then rolled onto the sheet and pulled her on top of him as he covered them. He let go of her, letting her decide whether she would move back onto the mattress or not.

  She chose to move onto the bed but turned on her side toward him to see the face she could now view fully. As she looked at him he brought his hand up, rubbing over stubble and making a rasping sound that turned up the corners of her mouth.

  “You need a shave,” she said quietly.

  “I’ll get to it—if he has a decent razor around here. If not, then you’ll have to put up with my beard, like it or not.”

  “I don’t mind, under the circumstances. But he better have a descent razor—I won’t put up with hairy legs.”

  “I hope you mean your legs because that’s something I won’t shave for you.” He turned on his side and draped his leg over hers, drawing it between his as he looked down at her, sleep still filling his eyes. “How long was I out?”

  “I don’t know. Half an hour maybe.”

  “I told you last night I was tired. I thought I was too tired. I guess I wasn’t after all.”

  She listened to him, liking the sound of his voice as it almost purred to her. His sleepiness making it kind of gritty, kind of smooth, kind of nice.

  “Were you up early yesterday morning?”

  He looked at his watch then placed his arm around her waist again. “If I was out for half an hour, then I got about four hours sleep within the last twenty-four.”

  “You did all that on just three hours sleep. Aren’t you the vigorous one?” she asked, not knowing exactly where the freedom for her to speak like that was coming from, but not stopping to ponder it either.

  “Maybe—or maybe just horny.”

  “Joe!” Her surprise at his comment brought a smile to him.

  His finger came up to trace her lips. She didn’t really know what he was doing. He caressed her in the oddest ways, and the most pleasing. His mouth moved slowly toward hers, his lips clinging and moving in an oddly sensual way, quickening her pulse as she moved her hand up to feel where their mouths met.

  “Why do you have to be so Goddamn beautiful, Maddie? Why couldn’t you have gotten fat as a cow after you were pregnant?”

  “What?” She narrowed her eyes at him. She didn’t know what he was talking about. Beautiful? She was barely passable with makeup—without it she thought she was on the downside of average.

  She watched as his eyes moved along her face, searching for something—she didn’t know what. His fingers moved down her cheek, over her neck. They paused, his gaze seeming amused as he looked where his fingers were stroking her throat. The laughter left his eyes as they followed his fingers softly moving over her shoulder. The roughness of his hand felt good on her tender skin as it slid over her arm and on to her hand. His lips touched hers again as his hand moved lower, across her waist and hip, roaming over her behind then down to her thigh; he pulled her leg from between his legs until it was over his hip. He was lightly touching her as his lips moved slowly against hers before his tongue deepened the kiss. Its slowness brightened the embers still warm inside of her. His hand backtracked its journey until he was holding her left breast. When she opened her eyes and looked at him, his eyes were still closed; he was as involved in their touching as she was, and the sight consumed her. How many times had she awakened in her husband’s bed aching from the memory of a dream that had her in Joe’s arms? But he was real and very solid as he kissed her and touched her. He pulled his head back and looked at her with a lazy smile touching his eyes.

  “Why do you always do this to me, Maddie?”

  He pulled her back over top of him, letting both hands move over her back then on to her buttocks where he lifted her until his mouth was on her chest. His stubble brushed against the nipple his hand had just left and sent fiery jolts through her before his tongue encircled it. He tenderly pulled it into his mouth as he bit and suckled in a rhythm that brought her arms to the bed to steady herself. His hands were on her small, firm backside, kneading and rubbing as she spread her legs around him. She wanted to touch him, needed to touch him, but when she moved to get off of him, she stopped and looked at him.

  “I’m sorry,” she said quietly.

  “For what?” His voice was puzzled.

  “I wanted to . . . I was going to . . . never mind.”

  “You were moving. Are you uncomfortable?”

  “No—I just wanted to. Never mind, it isn’t important.”

  “Maddie?” One brow rose, telling her he wanted an answer.

  “With my hands up there, I can’t . . . .” She paused. “I told you it wasn’t imp
ortant.”

  His smile warmed her. His understanding became clear as he turned back onto his side and took her hand in his before placing it on his stomach. “Is this what you wanted?”

  Her blush grew as her fingers moved over his stomach, feeling the thin line of hair that traveled downward from his chest then trailed lower to the thicker, coarser hair that brought a muffled groan from him.

  “This is more like it,” she said very quietly.

  “You’re not used to doing things your way, are you? If you want it, it’s important.”

  He pushed her onto her back but remained on his side, giving her the access she wanted as his mouth moved over hers again. His hand covered hers, moving with it, teaching her the rhythm that pleased him. Her touch was making him press a little closer, and the knowledge that he wanted her to do this as much as she wanted to do it aroused her even more. His touch moved over her thighs, then between them, making her press her hips toward him as his fingers moved with her to bring a soft panting from between her parted lips. His touch was turning her on fire, chasing away any modesty as her hand worked to take him to a point as electrified as she. Her hips were gyrating with him, trembling with need. As his mouth searched her lips and tongue low guttural sounds escaped the back of his throat. He was leaning against her, and she could feel his body shake from the pleasure she was giving him. She knew he was holding back, wanting to be sure she was feeling the glow as brightly as he was. Suddenly his hand stopped, and he leaned more fully against her side, immobilizing her hand as he slowly drew his head back far enough to speak.

  “I don’t think . . . we can go on like this much longer, kid.”

  His mouth moved back to hers as he pulled his body away, letting her decide if she wanted him to go on as they were or have him move on top of her. She put her hands on his upper arms, turning against him in a silent answer. This time when he turned onto his back and pulled her on top, he didn’t hesitate lifting her body and slowly filling the sheath she could feel stretching around him. His hands held her hips firmly, lifting her slowly before drawing her down again, their lovemaking sending sparks through her, making any words she could try to say come out incoherently. She was like a moth after a flame as she moved against him, pushing past the sparks to the heady flame. Its rawness pushing her even farther until her nails dug into the tops of his shoulders to keep from flying away in the explosion. She heard his painful intake of breath before his grasp tightened immensely and he pulled her down on him forcefully, twice more as he rose to meet her. But the sound made little sense to her as his arms came around her tightly, pulling her against him in a bear-like hug then slowly releasing the force to cling to her as his mouth sought hers. Slow deep kisses let their needs for one another be shown, although they were quite spent and fulfilled.

  Maddie fell into a deep peaceful sleep, waking only once when she felt him turn with her and withdraw from her. She felt empty as she reached for him, his hands soothing her back under sleep’s spell.

  “It’s all right. I won’t leave you.”

  When Maddie woke she wasn’t sure what time it was. With the sun hidden it could be anytime between eight o’clock in the morning and four in the afternoon, and, with the electricity out, no clocks ran and the wind-up alarm had run down long ago. She looked over at Joe. He was deep in sleep with his leg across both of hers. His arm was also across her, with his hand cupping her left breast. Slowly she lifted his hand, turning it to see that his watch read two o’clock. She moved his arm between them, then slowly drew one leg at a time from beneath his, but, as she was about to turn to get up, his arm came around her again and pulled her to him as he pressed his face to her hair.

  “Don’t leave me, Maddie.”

  She looked over at him, but he was still sleeping; just how soundly she wasn’t sure, so she waited a minute before moving his arm again. This time she managed to get to the floor and didn’t hesitate dressing. She found the wind-up alarm clock and headed downstairs, setting it to the time on Joe’s watch before placing it on the kitchen table.

  It was cool and damp as she moved on to the bathroom and stopped in front of the mirror. She picked up a brush, but, the sight of her neck covered with maroon blotches made her clutch the sink for support. She remembered the amusement in Joe’s eyes when he had looked at her neck a few hours earlier. Goddamn him! He would think it was funny! He had left his mark and he had marked her well. Well, at least he didn’t leave the mark he had left for her four years ago. The thought no sooner passed through her mind than tears welled up in her eyes, remembering the conversation she had with Bob the day before. “What a time to be in the middle of a flood . . . according to my calendar . . . these next few days are crucial.” The tears spilled along with an anguished sob as she slowly sank to the floor. How could she have been so stupid? How could she have done this to Bob? They had been trying to have a baby for three years. She had been to many doctors before being sent to a gynecologist who specialized in infertility. After she had submitted to many painful tests, they were working on a personal calendar for her. The timing was important—a last chance for Bob.

  She didn’t know how long she sat on the floor, leaning against the sink and holding that brush in her hands. Her mind was in a dazed fog; she could have been there for hours—or was it only minutes? She rose to her feet, deciding it would be better to keep moving, keep busy.

  She moved into the middle room to pick up her clothes. At least they were dry, she thought as she started to pull them on, then stopped when she remembered Joe’s were outside hanging in the rain. Good! Let them stay there! But no, she decided it would be better to occupy herself with getting them in to dry, rather than sitting and doing nothing out of spite. So she kept her jeans and shirt off; it would be easier to just put on her raincoat to go out for his clothes. She could dry her legs off easily with a towel; her jeans, though, would take hours until they were dry again.

  Pulling on her coat, she opened the door, hesitating a moment before closing it behind her. It was cold! She ran across the yard and pulled the clothes down with a yank then ran back to the porch. She was about to go in when she glanced back toward her father’s old workshop, an orangish-beige-shingled, wooden structure about the size of a small cabin. They needed something to cook on; her cousin might have a small camping stove out there. That was where her father had kept his when they lived there. The thought brought a smile when she realized how little things like that were coming back to her.

  On her run to the building she came to a large puddle, and, as she tried to jump over it, her foot slid in the thick brown earth, sending her on a slide that spread mud up her legs and over her raincoat. She prayed the door wasn’t locked, knowing it always had been when they lived there. It was where her father kept his tools and fishing equipment. His hunting equipment was kept in the house, but she couldn’t remember where—so evidently he kept it out of the children’s realm of available inspection. The door swung open easily, sending a sigh of relief through her as her eyes searched the room. God, if Jack Baker could see his old workshop looking like this, he would set a match to it and burn it down. Everything was scattered all over, everywhere. She was half afraid to take a step inside. Nails and glass were on the floor in various areas, making her very conscious of where she would place her bare foot next. Halfway into the room, she grabbed what she was looking for and left immediately, not wanting to risk running into a rat or snake or any other vermin that might be escaping the high waters. She was glad her father wasn’t there to see it.

  This time when she came to the mud puddle she stomped right through it, across the lawn then up to the porch. Her feet felt like blocks of ice. She picked up Joe’s clothes and awkwardly reached for the knob; a knob that wouldn’t turn. She tried again. No luck. Her face turned to stone. Yeah, she could easily believe this was happening to her. It was just her luck. And with Joe heavily asleep upstairs, she didn’t know if he would hear her knock. She could only hope that since the bedroom
window was directly above the door, she could wake him.

  She knocked, knocked again. A little louder this time, and this time. She knocked the metal of the camping stove against the window—did it again, harder. She made a fist and banged against the wooden frame of the door, twice more.

  “JOE! GODDAMN YOU, GET THE HELL OUT OF BED!”

  But still he didn’t come, making her turn around and plop down on the porch steps. “Good! Let me just sit out here and either drown or freeze!” She rested her chin on the camp stove in her lap. She was tired, she wanted to go home and dry off, then warm up as she pulled Jackie up on the bed with her and took a long nap; then maybe all of this would go away.

  “You take up exhibitionism recently?” Joe’s voice came from behind her, the steady downpour drowning out the sound of the door opening. “I don’t know if I want to let you in. You’re a huge mud-ball.”

  His remark sent his sopping jeans to land with a splat against his chest. She stood up and went straight to the bathroom, pausing only to put the stove on the table. She stepped into the tub, using the water sparingly to wipe the mud off her legs before stepping out again and draping the coat over the tub. When she turned, Joe was leaning against the doorframe, watching her with amusement.

  “Don’t say a word,” she warned then walked past him with a towel to dry herself.

  Her socks felt good although they weren’t as soft as they usually were after she laundered them, they were warm and dry, and, at least at the moment, that was good enough. Next came her jeans; she would mend the tear later. Her shirt came on, pulling up the collar for warmth as she went back to the kitchen to try to light the stove. She tried to remember watching her father light his stove, and after a few moments she had a blue flame circling its center. She had never lit one before; she was proud of herself. As she moved to the sink, she poured two cups of water into a small pot then took it back to the stove, bringing two cups, a spoon and a jar of instant coffee with her. Joe came from the bathroom when she was spooning the coffee into cups, standing behind her as he put his arms around her and leaned his chin against the top of her head.