I wanted to be able to say to hell with everything. Just grab Lucky, pack up everything I owned and move here, follow my heart, but real life required planning and then there was my stalker issue to deal with, too. I hadn’t told Elliot about him yet. It was all so ugly and sordid. I didn’t want anything ugly to infect my time with him this week. This week had been beautiful.
Elliot laughed, not at me but to me.
“We don’t have to figure it all out right now. It will all sort itself out the way it’s supposed to. In time we will both know where we should be. We can keep both places and go back and forth. We’re still getting our footing here. What’s more important to me is that you want the same thing I do, for us to make this work no matter what. We have time.”
I wanted this to work. We’d been given another chance and I didn’t want to screw it up this time.
Andrea and I talked about it a lot this week. She kept telling me to relax and go with it, to have patience and the faith everything would work out the way it was supposed to. There’s the patience thing again. I really did suck at that.
“Did you ever mention the whole stalker thing going on back home?” she had asked me the previous night.
“No,” I admitted. “I know I need to. I just want to forget that part of my life even exists right now. Maybe when we go back, whoever it is will have moved on.”
“That would be nice for you, but what about the next woman he terrorizes? They need to catch the guy, Emily, and you have to be careful. He may have already killed one guy you were involved with. You need to warn Elliot to be careful.”
She was right, and I knew that, but I still wanted to deny it was happening. I wasn’t sure how to explain it all to Elliot.
Hey, by the way, some nut job that I may or may not have slept with, but I really don’t remember, is stalking me and killing other men that I’ve gone out with … at least that’s what the police are thinking at the moment. It would make any sane man run for another continent, plus it made me look like a total slut.
In truth, I was afraid to tell Elliot about it. I still didn’t completely trust he was in my life for good.
ELLIOT
I knew I was driving her crazy. I wanted to…
Every morning she sat front and center in my workshop, swinging one of her mile-long legs back and forth, torturing me. I watched her listening and absorbing every detail I talked about. Her eyes never left me.
While I went over outlines and character formations, she watched me. And I thought about what I’d like to do to her when she finally made her decision, that I was the one. That we were meant to be together.
I wanted to use my tongue to lick every single inch of her while she moaned…
“What helps you when you have writer’s block and you can’t seem to shake it?”
The question interrupted my thoughts and I momentarily blanked out of where I was and what I was doing. I had to ask for the question to be repeated and bring myself back to reality.
I glanced at Emily as I answered. She smirked at me with a knowing twinkle in her eyes. It was really bad when I spoke on something and my mind was diving into thoughts that were completely different. Erotic thoughts, tasty thoughts, thoughts that I shouldn’t be having while teaching a class. Thoughts that were always in my mind, day and night … thoughts of Emily.
The workshop ended at two, but since it was the last day, we hung around until four, answering more questions and discussing future classes with people.
Emily helped me pack up. I asked her if she minded coming with me to drop the stuff off in my garage a few blocks away. Picking up one the boxes, she followed me out.
I’d talked about my place with her all week and I was excited to show her what I’d created inside.
The problem was I may never let her leave. Every day it was harder and harder to hold back, which was part of the reason I hadn’t allowed myself to be completely alone with her. I was afraid to let her go away again.
This week had been a gift, every single moment I spent with Emily now was a gift. It was as if the last seven years had become a distant memory. All the longing for her, the pain of walking away, it had come full circle. I wanted her in my life until I no longer had a breath of air left in me and it was my time to move on from this earth. I wanted Emily to be my forever. I just wished I were certain she wanted the same thing, that she was ready for this.
I led the way down the street. I could see the wind picking up from the height of the surf down by the shoreline. The day couldn’t have been more perfect. Low 80’s and a nice breeze, a perfect evening to enjoy out on my deck.
Turning to Emily as we walked, I asked about Andrea.
“She’s catching dinner with some of her colleagues in San Diego,” she replied.
I nodded, making plans in my head: dinner, a bottle of wine, and a stroll on the beach. A whole lot of romance and a lot more lovin’ than I’d ever shown Emily.
I unlocked the door and stepped aside to let her enter first. I set down my box and grabbed hers as she started to make her way up the stairs. I heard her gasp as she stopped at the top of the stairs and looked all around. The expression on her face was pure amazement.
Her eyes lit up as she took a tentative step toward the wall of glass facing the water. I stepped up and around her, opening the French doors. The roar of the ocean filled the room, and the breeze made the gauzy curtains flutter.
I watched her as she moved about, her fingers trailing along the soft tan leather of my couch, brushing the fibers of the cashmere throw tossed on the armrest, touching the polished wood of the hand-carved table behind it that I found on a trip to Kenya, paying a fortune to have it shipped back here.
She examined the copper cookware hanging from a rack next to the stove in the kitchen. The pots of fresh herbs I grew to use for seasoning my creations sat on the countertop positioned to catch the beam of sunlight coming through the windows.
She stopped to gaze at the photographs framed on the walls. Pictures of travels around the world, of people I had met and snapshots we’d taken of our life together, many years ago.
Every room of my house faced either the ocean or the mountains behind me off in the distance. The kitchen was set up so I could look outside as I cooked or entertained. My desk sat in the far corner of the living room, again, standing guard over the water below. I needed the music the ocean sang as I wrote into the early hours of dawn almost every day.
A spiral staircase stood in the corner leading upstairs. Emily paused at the bottom step glancing upward and then back at me.
“Upstairs is my private space. The area I usually don’t show anyone.”
She looked at me again and then slowly started to climb the stairs.
I’m not saying I had never brought a woman to my bedroom, but it had been awhile and it was before I completely remodeled it. Upstairs was my sanctuary. It held my books, the treasures I’d collected over the years, and more photographs … my favorite photographs. Matted and framed, hanging on my wall.
I stepped up behind Emily so I could see her as she discovered the second floor.
My bed was on a platform in the center of the room, covered in grey silk sheets and a handmade quilt. French doors opened to a small deck with two chairs and a table between. In the far corner was a bathroom. A clawfoot tub, windows on two sides, plants surrounding it, gave it a feel of being in the middle of a tropical paradise. A glass and stone walk-in shower and a sink set in an old barn-board cupboard were directly across. A toilet hid behind closed doors. My closets were tucked into the design of the walls. A small sitting area bordered by a railing was open to the first floor.
Emily let out a gasp as she looked up and saw my collection of photographs. She was everywhere, trying to surf, walking, laughing, smiling, and hugging me. These were my favorites.
Pictures of Emily were the last thing I saw at night and the first thing every morning
She walked from photograph to photograph, examining e
ach one. I watched the smile creep up on her lips as she remembered when each was taken. She laughed at the one of her trying to surf. I loved that one. She resembled a drowned rat but I thought she looked so beautiful, determined and wringing wet. I walked over and stood behind her, my arms circling her waist as I pulled her gently into me.
“When did you do all of this?” she asked.
“Over the last four years, I hung them all in here after I finished the room. This is my sanctuary.”
She laughed as she looked around again.
“I’m not sure other women would appreciate my looking down on your bed while they were in it.”
My voice was a whisper inches from her ear.
“No other woman has been up here since I finished the house and hung my photographs.”
Neither of us spoke. The only noise? The ocean hitting the shoreline outside my bedroom window. I could feel Emily relax against me as she accepted what I had just told her was the honest truth.
Slowly I turned her around to face me, brushing the curls from her face and tracing her bottom lip with the side of my thumb. I watched her eyes darken as the pupils dilated in desire. Her breath quickened from my touch. I could feel the heat rising from her skin.
My God I wanted this woman with every part of me. She made me so hard, so needy for her. I felt like I was on fire.
Her voice quivered when she spoke to me. “I need you now, Elliot. I don’t want to keep waiting. I want you to make love to me now.”
My heart almost stopped for a moment. My mind went blank. I needed to stay in control, but I couldn’t. Not with her right here in my arms.
“I want more than just tonight, Emily…”
“So do I.”
And I…
Lost…
All…
Control.
EMILY
I threw all caution out the French doors and reached up, wrapping my arms around his neck, pulling him into me. My lips found his and I lost myself.
Completely.
Totally.
Passionately.
He edged me backwards, stepping me across the room. My hands roamed down his back until they were on his ass. I squeezed, remembering the feel of him, the strong tight muscles beneath the fabric of his jeans. I chewed my lip, trying to gain a bit of control but it was hopeless. I didn’t want control. I wanted Elliot.
His eyes captured mine, paralyzing me. I couldn’t look away. He softly touched his lips to mine, grazing, sucking and biting them. He was making me lose my mind. I needed to feel him against me, without barriers. I wanted to feel his skin beneath my fingertips. I had to explore every inch of him, to see what I remembered and learn what I may have forgotten, to memorize what was new or changed.
I reached my arms over his shoulders and pulled him into me again. His lips moved over mine this time, with a hunger I’d never experienced before, an incredible sensation of being devoured.
My back was suddenly against a wall and he pressed in hard, pinning me, his muscles enveloping me, his body contouring to mine. I could feel him pulsating into the junction between my thighs, through the thin fabric of his well-worn jeans, making me burn and grow wet.
I couldn’t get close enough, there were too many clothes, too many barriers. I wanted him and I was tired of waiting.
Grabbing my thighs, he lifted me up, wrapping my legs around his waist, and carried me over to the bed. He fell upon it with me, never breaking his hold, tumbling over one another.
Taking my hair in his fingers he combed through it, pulling and tugging, his lips never leaving mine. He tasted like lemons from the candies he sucked on constantly. I watched him earlier sucking them into oblivion; his mouth working the candy back and forth. Licking and sucking and tasting until it evaporated into nothingness.
I wanted him to suck me like that piece of candy.
Bracing himself on his elbows, his lips moved down my neck leaving a wet trail. He kissed my skin as far down as he could before my shirt got in the way. His tongue traced and teased with a touch so soft it rivaled a feather. He sucked my nipples through the thin fabric of my shirt, pulling them, making them tingle, making them harden and wanting more. He looked down at me.
“Do you want me to stop?” he asked.
“God, no! Please … don’t stop.”
I had been waiting a lifetime to feel this way again, the all-consuming desire, the insatiable need, the need no other man on earth could possibly fulfill except Elliot.
I was burning up. The fire started in my toes and climbed its way upward as he touched me with his fingertips, trailing a path along my skin.
I didn’t want a gentle, sweet love, not now. I wanted him to take me, to demand it all from me. I wanted him to fill every inch of me in a way that would make me scream out his name at the top of my lungs and beg him to never stop.
The heat rising inside of my body was almost unbearable. I was gasping for breath, speechless and paralyzed with a desire that only he could quench. He was killing me with every second he made me wait while he explored my body. His tongue, a tool, torturing me with pleasure, painted a masterpiece on my skin with the trail of moisture he left. His fingers were the brushes that refined the picture he was creating. A piece of art, covering every inch of my flesh.
He lifted the hem of my T-shirt upward and over my head. I watched his eyes as they gazed down, first at my face and then my breasts. His finger traced circles around my nipples, following with the tip of his tongue. Softly stroking, then gently nipping, his lips created designs first on one breast, then the other. His fingers read me like a blind man reads braille. The heat flushing through my body was starting to burn, my skin growing damp. I couldn’t think straight with Elliot’s lips on me.
I wanted him … now.
I wanted him to fill the empty space inside of me that belonged only to him. I squirmed beneath him trying to shift my hips to rid my jeans from my body. He pushed my hands away, pinning them above my head.
“Not yet,” he whispered.
His tongue continued to explore every inch of exposed skin, slowly tasting every detail, every scar, every mark. My hands were still trapped above my head. My breaths came in gasps, my voice in moans. I needed to touch him. I could feel the explosion rising inside of me, higher and higher until I began to tremble. Releasing my wrists, he eased my zipper down with his fingers and slid my jeans from my hips.
Sliding down to the foot of the bed, he caressed my feet. Squeezing and massaging them, his mouth captured my toes and the licking started again, this time sending shockwaves throughout my body. My back arched upward as I erupted. My moan became a scream as I called out to him in my release. My body pulsated over and over, clenching, releasing, and throbbing.
It took a minute to catch my breath. Elliot still sat by my feet, watching me, waiting to continue again. I gasped again as his mouth found my foot. Each toe in its turn became a volume control, increasing the sensations coursing through me all over again. My need escalated faster than I thought possible
I began to beg. I needed more.
Spreading my legs apart with his hands, his thumbs and forefingers capturing my thighs, he lowered his mouth over my soaked panties and he began to suck to the rhythm of an old blues song.
The fire within me roared, blazing from my hips upward to my breasts and into my head. My fists clenched the sheets surrounding me. Pleasure and pain combined, stealing my breath.
His tongue slid along the creases of my wetness, torturing me. Sliding his fingers underneath the elastic of my panties, he moved them aside, teasing my inflamed lips. His mouth and his fingers working together, sucking and stroking at the same time, my body lifted into him, forcing him to go deeper. His tongue slipped in and out and across me, curling with amazing speed. I could feel my climax building all over again. My mind grew hazy from the power building inside of me.
I bolted upright, grabbing his shirt and yanking it over his head. My hands latched onto his chest and squeezed
his nipples causing him to wince, then moan. I pulled his body toward me again so my lips could taste his salty skin covered in sweat. I licked back and forth on his nipples, making them stiff. I could feel the beat of his heart race faster as I sucked harder, his breathing labored as his desire increased. Sitting back, he pulled his fingers from my wetness and unbuttoned his jeans, releasing his cock from the constraint. One hand traced the outline of my breast and the other stroked himself. He looked at me.
“Do you want me to stop?”
I shook my head. Reaching one hand to his chest, I caressed him. The other hand I used to finish sliding his jeans over his hips. He stood up and kicked them off. He wore nothing else. His body was perfection. Tan, muscular, beautiful. I wanted him.
Every
Single
Inch
Of
Him.
His eyes smoldered as they raked over me. He kneeled onto the bed, and taking my hand, he pulled me up to him, so we faced each other to touch and explore, to taste … memorizing the grooves of one another’s bodies.
A soft hitch in my breathing was all that interrupted the beating of our hearts. We didn’t need words. He could feel the heat, my desire.
I wanted to know what made him burn, made him ache. I needed to know the match it took to ignite the animal inside him. He knew me. He knew how to make me scream out his name. With just a glance, he could make me want him, make me beg him to consume me and never cease. I wanted to give the same to him.
“I don’t want you to stop … ever,” I whispered.
He tore my panties from my body, ripping them in his haste. Placing his hands behind my neck, he lowered me back onto the bed, nestling me into the pillows. I curled my fingers around him, squeezed and released and squeezed again, sliding up and down, stroking him, listening to his moans, pausing at the tip. I guided him to my swollen and wet folds, using him to please myself, grinding against his hardness for my own pleasure. His moans matched mine as the intensity increased. He slid inside of me a tiny bit and stopped as if to savor the feeling. I could feel him throb as he entered me a little bit more. I watched his face, his expressions and emotions raced through him. Opening his eyes, he gazed down at me, desire oozing from every cell of his body.
Shattered Pearls Page 17