Captive Hearts

by Harper Bliss

  She lets my finger continue its slow, upward drift along her belly. The t-shirt rides up along with it and, already, I can’t wait to do this in the clear light of day. Light catching in that reddish blond hair of hers, making it look ready to catch on fire any time, like her, like me. To see every inch of her, to share that level of intimacy with another person.

  I feel her hand on my back now, tracing its own figure-of-eights, doubling the sensation, multiplying the meeting of our skin. And then I can’t bear her being covered by any fabric any longer. I push the t-shirt above her breasts, revealing them to my gaze and I think about how right this is. Though I can’t wait to repeat this in daylight, I find it apt for our first time to happen in the darkness of a Nelson night. It symbolizes my own journey from complete ink-black darkness to the little amount of moonlight in my bedroom to whatever light tomorrow, or the day after, or the week after brings.

  Tess moves her arms over her head, and I push the t-shirt all the way off her. When her hand returns to my back, it’s no longer with a light touch of fingers, but the insistent press of nails against skin. I lean down to kiss her and this is the kiss we’ve been waiting for. Not just her—though I’ve teased her long enough—but me also.

  Because underneath all the anguish, doubts and hopelessness I’ve felt for months, there was always a real person lurking. A creature of flesh and blood with too many feelings and cravings and desperations, but a human being nonetheless. And it’s what made it harder and easier at the same time. Even in the deepest recesses of my depression, of learning to deal with what I had done, I could always feel my heart beat with a zest for life I couldn’t really understand. How could I want to continue living after ending someone else’s life? How was that fair? But my heart kept beating like a steady drum, like a cheer, like a rhythmic chant telling me it would be okay. Because what choice did I have but to keep going?

  When we break from this kiss, we are both panting, and the temperature in the room seems to have gone up a notch. I slip half on top of Tess, our breasts meeting, my knee between her legs, getting a little ahead of itself, but I can feel my body taking over now. As though it’s saying ‘Enough’ and locking all my Tracy-related thoughts in a box in the back of my mind, only to be opened again after pleasure has been bestowed. Pleasure and the memory of Tracy can never go together, and my body knows that—every cell of my being knows that.

  My lips roam across Tess’s neck, pause at the hollow of it, then trace a path down. I glance at her breasts before peppering them with kisses, before closing my lips around her nipple. I grab her other breast with my right hand and let the pure lust riding in my veins take over. I catch her nipple between my teeth, let them sink in until she utters a little yelp, then move on to the other. On a much smaller scale than when I moved to Texas, I’m drawn south again. To where that flimsy pair of underwear is not doing a good job of covering her. I trace a moist path down her belly, along the waistband of her panties, then kiss her through the fabric. I inhale deeply and am floored by how much I’ve missed another woman’s scent. By the primal feeling of it, the acute but simple necessity, by the intimacy it implies.

  Tess starts whimpering beneath me, her hands lodging themselves in my hair, while I keep teasing her through the fabric, or perhaps I’m afraid to take the next step—the final one. To look at her there, no barriers between us, will be a point of no return. But I don’t want to return to the Laura I was before Tess. Before she climbed into my bed. This divine woman with a heart so big she had room in it to revive mine. Then the moment comes when my fingers push aside the slim panel of her panties and I’m faced with the complete gloriousness of Tess Douglas. But this is not a moment for looking, or pondering, or even thinking the tiniest thought. This is the moment I let my lips descend upon Tess’s sex and taste her, drink her in and, in the process, shed my old skin and grow a new one. Because with Tess, I have no need anymore for the thick skin I lived my life with. The armor I wrapped myself in to keep everyone out. She couldn’t be more in now.

  I kiss her nether lips, then let my tongue skate along the length of them. And she tastes so earthy, so tangy, so womanly, the sensation connects with my own clit, and I can feel its pulse reverberate through my entire body.

  “Oh, Laura,” Tess moans, and the croak of her voice connects with my heart, and my heart connects with my tongue, and we’ve become one being, it feels like, in that moment I unleash my tongue on her clit. It dances and dances, and I suck her into my mouth, play with it there, drink her in, feel her nails pressed into my skull, and think, no, this is not how I want it. This is not the pinnacle of intimacy I crave right now.

  So, under soft protest from Tess, I move my face away from between her legs and, my lips smelling of her—an essence I’d like to carry with me for a good long while—I climb up to greet her, to look into her eyes, to see her. I let a hand slip into her panties, and her wetness on my fingers instigates another round of violent throbbing between my own legs, and push one finger inside.

  “Oh,” she groans, and brings her hands around my neck. “Oh God, Laura.” Tess tilts her head back, offering her neck to me, and I kiss it, but only briefly, because I want to see her face. I add another finger and increase my pace, and to be inside of her like that, to give her this pleasure—and take a great deal of my own in the process—is like a giant eraser being swept over the pain in my heart. And I know it’s not because of the simple, primal act of being inside her, but because of all that came before since I met her. All the things we’ve said and done that brought us to this point. To this night I couldn’t even have imagined if I had wanted to. No fantasy was able to break through my shield of fear, until now. Now, it’s real. This is not a fantasy version of Tess bucking her hips against my fingers, this is the real, formidable, amazing Tess Douglas who saw something in me when we met at the supermarket that day. It doesn’t even matter what she saw at that moment, all that matters is that we’re here now, together.

  She’s had her eyes closed since my finger slid inside of her, but she opens them now. She fastens her gaze on mine, her hands still curled around my neck, and it feels as though she’s looking straight into my soul. As though, maybe for the very first time, she’s seeing the real Laura Baker—the one with all her defenses down. The person I was once and I’m becoming again, with her.

  “Oh, Laura, I’m—” Her breath stalls in her throat and her inner walls clamp around my fingers and I’m there with her all the way, as though I can feel her climax shudder through my body as well.

  Thirty

  Tess

  Laura’s fingers dig inside me and I can’t keep my eyes off her. I look into those mysterious, wounded eyes of hers, wanting so desperately to take away a little of her pain, of her guilt. She narrows her eyes in supreme concentration, and a climax is already engulfing me, spreading its warmth through my flesh, its tingle through my belly, and all I want to do in that moment, when our bodies have come together, is tell her that I love her. Because I think I do. I know I do. I love Laura Baker, no matter how unlovable, and damaged, she considers herself. What is happening in this bed here tonight is nothing short of love.

  I draw her close, the aftershocks of the orgasm rippling through me and whisper an appropriate version—for the moment—of I love you into her ear. “You’re amazing,” I say. “Jesus Christ, you’re amazing.”

  Laura lifts up her head and beams me the widest smile. Slowly, she slips her fingers out of me and, already, I want them to return. I don’t need time to recover. I’ve wanted Laura for months and, although there were times I believed this moment would never come, now that it has finally arrived, I never want it to end.

  She leans in to kiss me again and I melt into her, holding her close, and I want to touch her like she just touched me, but I still feel I need to ask for explicit permission first. “Do you want me to…” I whisper in her ear.

  She pushes herself away from me and smiles down at me. “God, yes,” she says. “If you don’t
I may spontaneously combust.” She’s so different now, so much more free and relaxed. I can’t wait to get those pajama bottoms off her, so I do. They look brand new as well, like all the other items of clothing she owns. It’s probably the first time she’s worn them. To keep a safe barrier of fabric between us. That didn’t work out then.

  I pull her close again and when we break from this kiss, I cling to her bottom lip with my teeth, give it a little tug. After I let go, I grin at her, then push her off me so I can be on top.

  “Come here,” she says, when it’s my turn to gaze down at her. I bring my ear close to her lips. “You’re beautiful when you come,” she says, and it ignites a fresh tingle in my stomach. And a burst of happiness. And the distinct feeling that I’m on top of the world, that nothing or no one will ever harm us ever again. For a brief moment, I can’t help but wonder how this is making Laura feel. Her experience can’t be the same as mine, but when I look at her, into those sparkling eyes of hers, and her features that have gone soft and become more open, I know it can’t be far off.

  “Is there anything in particular—” I start to ask.

  But she cuts me off, curls her lips into a smile and says, “Stop thinking, Tess. I’m all in. I made the choice. I took the leap. Just be you.” Her voice is tender in the night, like music to my ears. And then I do as she tells me.

  I let go. Having her fingers inside of me, and coaxing that orgasm from me, was one thing—a spectacular, glorious thing—but I want, more than anything, to be the cause of Laura’s pleasure now. It’s a privilege, an honor. A testament to how far we’ve come. And, also, the finish line to this test of my patience. Yes, I asked her out too soon, and I kissed her a little too passionately too quickly, but I pulled back, adjusted, and waited. I always knew she would be worth it, this moment alone is already more than worth it, although I know, already, without a shadow of a doubt, there will be many more to come.

  I kiss her lips, her cheeks, her chin, then, ever so slowly, make my way down. I intend to savor every single second of this, of my most intimate acquaintance with the woman I’ve fallen in love with. The woman who arrived in my town out of nowhere, and changed everything.

  I taste her skin, let my tongue dip into her belly button, which makes her squirm a little. I move one hand to her breast, and realize that I was so focused on my journey down, I neglected them gravely. I kiss my way back up her chest and marvel at the sight in front of me. Laura wasn’t lying when she said she was all in, because that’s exactly what I see in front of me: a woman ready for anything I’m willing to give.

  I let my tongue dart over her nipple while I squeeze her breast. And oh, the softness of another woman’s breast in my hand. I can’t help it, it makes me think of everything I missed during my years of unintended celibacy. Though, of this I’m certain, Laura was the one to wait for. Having her here now, her body squirming with pleasure at the touch of my tongue, was worth every minute of being single. Of making the choices that I made.

  I feast on her nipples, take my time with them, before meandering down again, my lips now on track, no more diversions allowed. I settle between her legs and just gaze in front of me for a few seconds. It’s too dark to see much, but I see enough. With Laura, I always saw enough to know I was looking at someone special. This is no exception. I bow down to kiss her there and, instantly, I’m entranced. For the Laura I know to allow me to do this, although I easily, and greedily, allowed her to do the very same thing to me earlier, unleashes a warm blend of love and lust in my flesh, all the way into my bones.

  I lick along her lips, avoiding her clit at first, still savoring, until I can’t take it anymore. Seeing Laura spread wide in front of me has destroyed the last ounce of patience I had left. I launch a full-on onslaught of licks onto her clit, while I press my fingers deep into the flesh of her behind. I lick as though my life itself depends on it. I lick until Laura goes stiff underneath me and her thighs push against my ears, and she lightly taps me on the head.

  I look at her from between her legs, at that big grin on her face and I can’t help but break into a wide smile as well. I climb up to meet her anew, because this time, when I look into her eyes, we’ll both be a slightly different version of ourselves. We’re lovers now and, no matter what happens in the future, nothing or no one can ever take away this night from us.

  “You’re not so bad yourself,” Laura says, which, in the sentimentality department hardly rivals my heartfelt ‘you’re amazing’ from earlier, but Laura and I are so different in so many ways that I can easily recognize it as her way of saying that she cares for me deeply.

  Thirty-One

  Laura

  When I wake up, my bedroom is brightly lit from the outside. Socks pushes his nose against my cheek, his insistent purr loud in my ear. Next to me, Tess is still sunk into sleep, her breath coming slowly and from a deep place within her.

  “She’s sleeping the sleep of the utterly satisfied,” I whisper to Socks as I pick him up and put him on my chest, which makes him purr even louder. “Keep it down, Socks. You’ll wake my lady friend with your enthusiasm.”

  He gives one of his high-pitched kitten meows. His food bowl is probably empty.

  “I’m sorry I had to kick you out of bed, buddy.” I pull him a little closer. “It was for your own good.” Talking to my kitten, who has wormed his way into my heart from the very first second I laid eyes on him, fills me with a ludicrous sort of happiness. It doesn’t matter if I need to kick him off his preferred sleeping pillow to engage in night-time activities, he still seems over the moon at seeing my eyes open in the morning. “We may have to find you alternative sleeping accommodation because that pretty lady over there”—I glance over at Tess, who doesn’t stir—“might make a habit of spending the night.”

  I try to remember the last time I woke up in the same bed as someone else. After that fatal night with Tracy, I slept on Rachel’s sofa for more than a month. She invited me to—purely platonically—share her bed, but I couldn’t bear crawling under the covers with another human being, not even with my best friend. The last time I woke up next to someone else like this, was the morning of the day I killed my wife. A day I’ll never forget.

  I had known from the moment she woke up that it would be one of those days. One of walking on egg shells, of my gut gripped by the terror of saying the wrong thing, the one sentence that might provoke her to action. Whereas she would start most days—99 out of a 100—by giving me a big hug in bed, that day she jumped out as soon as she woke up, as though I wasn’t even there. It was a Friday, and she often worked from home on Friday and I remember hoping, as I heard the water cascade down in the shower, that she’d be going into the office anyway. Because I always worked from home and, no matter what mood she was in, the energy in the house was always different when she was there as well. I never got as much done as I wanted to because, I realize now, my subconscious was too busy being afraid of what might happen.

  “Morning.” Next to me the sheets rustle and Tess turns toward me. Her face is all smiles and happiness and joy. “You completely exhausted me last night.” She shuffles a little closer, her knee touching my thigh with a little more force than she had probably intended. And I can’t help it, but I flinch. I always do.

  “I’m sorry,” Tess is quick to say. “Let me make that up to you.” She ducks under the covers and plants a slew of kisses where her knee landed against my thigh. “Is that better?” she asks when she re-emerges, her eyebrows drawn up, her face serious.

  “Come here,” I say, pushing all thoughts of Tracy to the back of my mind.

  “There’s no room for me up there,” she jokes. “You already have someone there.”

  “This little pussycat?” I scratch Socks behind the ears. “He was traumatized during the night by your uncontrollable moaning. I’m just comforting him.”

  “I guess Socks and I can share your affections.” Tess presses herself against my flank and kisses me on the cheek. “Did you sleep okay?”


  “I did.” I slip an arm underneath her neck and pull her close to me. “Though I was kept awake for a large part of the night by this woman who couldn’t keep her hands off me.”

  “Oh really?” Tess’s hand finds it way to my belly. “Like this?” She runs a finger around my belly-button, waking up all the parts of my body that were still slumbering. Her finger travels up and circles a nipple. “Tell Socks it’s my turn again,” she whispers in my ear, while two of her fingers clasp themselves around my nipple.

  “He’s not going to be happy,” I protest meekly. “Why don’t you tell him?”

  Tess pushes herself up and looks me in the eyes. “I want you, Laura. It doesn’t matter that we were up half the night. Having you hasn’t stopped my hunger for you. On the contrary. I want you even more now.”

  I put Socks on the floor and give him a little pat on his tiny body, then pull Tess close for a deep kiss. When she says things like that, I can feel her love for me radiate off her, can see it blazing in her eyes.

  “I want you too,” I say when we break from our kiss.

  Her fingers find my other nipple now and she clamps down hard, making my breath hitch in my throat.

  “Good.” She squeezes again, then throws the covers off us and trails her lips downward again the way she did last night. She halts at my breasts and swirls her tongue around my nipples and I glance at her mane of wild hair that spreads across my chest and I think, yes, I want this, I want this so badly, but I can’t be a hundred percent sure yet. It’s impossible. Being in a relationship again is bound to bring back memories, is bound to have me slip back into old, defensive behaviors. And there’s the ‘unknown’ factor. Though Tess is very different from how Tracy was, the enthusiasm of their affections from the very beginning is something they have in common. My relationship with Tracy started like a too-good-to-be-true fairy tale as well. I can never be certain.