by April Lust
I sighed quietly. How many nights had I spent dreaming about him? So many. More than I could possibly count. Every time, I imagined him coming back to me. Or that we had never parted at all, and that we lived happily ever after. When I would wake up, a sense of longing and sadness would invariably fill my heart. Dreams like that didn’t come true, I’d tell myself.
My dream had come true—in a way. And what was I doing about it? Oh, right. I had locked myself in the bedroom. Smart move, Tori.
I got up, tiptoeing to the door and flipping the lock. My hand lingered on the knob. Should I? Shouldn’t I? It felt the same as money burning a hole in my pocket, only it was my ex-husband burning a hole in my mind. Just knowing he was right next door was enough to drive me crazy.
If anything, I wanted to get a few things off my chest in order to get a decent night’s sleep. With that as my excuse, I opened the door, then went to the next room and knocked softly.
“Yeah?” He didn’t sound sleepy, not in the least. Was he awake, thinking about me the way I thought about him?
“Can I talk to you for a sec? I only have a couple of things to say.”
A pause. “Yeah, come in.” He was sitting up in bed when I walked in. I closed the door behind me, suddenly feeling like a fool. There he was, all of him, practically naked in bed. The sheet across his lap—did he still wear boxer briefs to bed? His bare chest, chiseled and gleaming in the light from the moon. I almost forgot how to speak in the presence of his beauty.
“Well?”
“Well, what?”
“Well, what did you come in here for?” I heard a smile in his voice and chose to ignore it. He was having fun with me. He probably thought I’d gone to him to seduce him. Well, he had another thing coming if he expected me to throw myself into his bed.
I hardened myself against him. “I wanted to apologize to you. I gave you way too much shit tonight. A lot of what you said was true, and I have no defense except to say that I thought I was doing the right thing at the time. Can you blame me for that?”
“No, I guess not.” His voice was flat. I took a chance and kept going, since he wasn’t arguing with me.
“I shouldn’t have been so nasty when you tried to help me, either. You were right—I texted you for help. I didn’t have to do that. And you didn’t have to come, either. I can’t thank you enough for that. You saved our lives.”
“I don’t know that I saved your life. I just saved you from that guy. He wouldn’t have killed you.”
I sighed. “Can I just thank you and get it over with without you telling me it was nothing? Jeez. Let me get it out, for heaven’s sake.”
“Sorry.” This time, I knew he was smiling. I bit back a smile of my own, willing myself to stay serious.
“I shouldn’t have kept George from you. I should at least have let you know you had a son. It was wrong. I’m sorry.”
He didn’t speak for a long time—for a split second there, I thought he might have fallen asleep sitting up. When he did speak, I jumped in surprise. “Do you really mean that?”
“What, that I’m sorry? Of course I do. I didn’t just come in here to lie to you. It wasn’t right for me to make the decision that you shouldn’t be with your son. Just please, believe me when I say I had my reasons. That’s all I can say. Okay?”
Another long pause, then a deep breath. “Okay.”
I had nothing else to say, and felt intensely stupid still standing by the door. I looked around the room—even in the near darkness, I could tell it was a comfortable, well-decorated place. “I like your apartment. Did I tell you that before? When you brought me here?”
“No. You weren’t in the mood for compliments that night.” My cheeks burned when I remembered how ungrateful I’d been.
“Yeah, that was wrong of me, too. Being so ungrateful, I mean. I’m sorry. I don’t know if I’ll ever stop making stupid mistakes like that.”
“I don’t think you make stupid mistakes. Yeah, they’re mistakes, but like you said: you do the best you can. You always have a good reason. I can’t get pissed at you for that.”
“Thank you.” Emotion welled up inside me. “How do you do that?”
“Do what?”
“How do you manage to forgive me, even when I do stupid things? Even when I’m too stubborn to say thank you, or too proud, you’re still there for me. How do you do it?”
He didn’t say a word. All he did was get up from the bed, cross the room to where I stood, take my face in his hands and kiss me.
Yes. It was like the world started spinning again. Everything revolved around us at that moment, only us. The way we had always been, the way we were always meant to be. Because we were meant to be, him and me. Nothing would ever change that.
My body responded to his kiss the same way it always had. Warmth spread between my legs as his tongue moved between my lips. I wrapped my arms around his neck, melting against him as he kissed me slowly, erotically, like he had all the time in the world. My knees went weak as his lips moved against mine. He sucked my bottom lip between his, making me gasp, then groan. I pulled his head to mine again and fairly devoured him, kissing him as hard as I could. I needed him. I needed all of him.
He felt that need and matched it with his own, the long, pulsing hardness pressing against my belly. I rejoiced, knowing he wanted me the way I wanted him. There was power in that, and joy. Joy in knowing I still had it, that he still wanted me after all that time and all the women he’d probably been with since I’d left. He still wanted me even though I’d had a baby and hadn’t been to a gym in years. He still wanted me even though I’d broken his heart.
He wanted me so much, he lifted me off the floor and carried me to the bed. I wrapped my legs around his waist, still kissing him, our tongues dancing. I groaned when I felt his fingers dig into my butt, kneading and massaging. It had been so long since a man had touched me like that. My entire body felt like it was on fire, my nerve endings dancing, the warmth between my thighs flaring up into an inferno which threatened to overtake me. And I loved it. I reveled it in.
He lowered me back until I was flat, then lowered himself over me. My heart raced, my body tensed in breathless anticipation. I arched my back, meeting him as our bodies touched. He kissed me again, even slower this time, his tongue darting across my lips before then sliding between them. I moaned, tangling my fingers in his hair, holding his head in place as his tongue drove me crazy. All we did was kiss, and yet I was almost ready to come. It was like being a breathless, horny kid all over again. Only I had history with the man on top of me.
I rubbed my legs against his, ran my hands over his bare back and shoulders. God, I had missed his body. How many times had I wished I could touch him just once more? We had never really said goodbye, not that way. By the day I’d left, we’d gone without sex for weeks. The last time we’d been together was what resulted in George. I’d already physically missed him long before I left him. I drank him in, then, having the opportunity once again. Exploring him, getting to know him again. I didn’t really need to get to know him, though. I knew his body nearly as well as I knew my own—every muscle, every line, ever curve. The way he groaned when I ran my nails down his back, the sharp intake of breath when I squeezed his butt and pulled him closer to me. Yes. I knew him.
His mouth traveled down my throat, and I closed my eyes in pure bliss as he kissed a trail from ear to ear, then down to my collarbone. I was so wet, so hot, so desperately ready for him. Still, I wanted to take our time. I wanted it to last forever. I didn’t know if it would ever happen again—I still wasn’t entirely sure it was happening in the first place, that I wasn’t dreaming again.
The way it felt when he reached beneath my t-shirt to fondle my breast wasn’t a dream. I groaned, arching my back again, grinding my pelvis against his as he touched me. My body rejoiced, reminding me of a dry sponge in the middle of the desert, finally feeling water upon it for the first time in years. I was that sponge, soaking him up, letting him
have his way with me and loving it.
He worked the hem of the shirt up to my shoulders, revealing my breasts to his eyes and his mouth. He took me in, tracing the lines of my body with the tips of his fingers. I shivered, crying out all over for him to take me, make me his, do what he wanted instead of only teasing me. He seemed to love it, smiling a little the more I whimpered. He flicked my nipples with his fingertips, the hardness against my thigh twitching the more I moaned. It was exquisite agony, and he built it more and more the longer he tortured me.
Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore. “Suck on them. Please,” I groaned, arching my back on more time. Presenting myself to him. Desperate for what I had been without for so long. He grinned, but did as I begged, taking one of my breasts in hand before descending upon it with his mouth. I nearly exploded in pleasure, throwing my head back with a throaty, guttural cry I couldn’t hold back. It was all so good, so delicious.
He took his time, discovering me again. I smiled down at him as he repeated his attention on the other breast. It was like coming home, the way his mouth felt against my skin, the way he knew just what to do with his tongue to make me cry out, dig my fingers into him, twist the sheets in my fists.
He moved on after what seemed like forever but could have gone on longer, licking a slow trail from between my breasts to the waistband of my panties. I gripped his head again, holding him close, my head rolling from side to side as he licked my sensitive skin. The muscles in my belly jumped and fluttered, and I bit the side of my fist to keep from screaming in harsh, primal desire. I lifted my hips, inviting him to remove the scrap of satin. He hooked his fingers around the waistband, lowering the panties until they were off.
He took me in with his eyes, then with his mouth, kissing me everywhere. I closed my eyes again, giving myself over to pure pleasure. He hadn’t even used his tongue and already the tension built and grew inside me, my core burning and aching and ready to explode with released desire. All he needed to do was take me there. I knew he would. I trusted him like I’d never trusted anyone else.
He teased me, though, taking his time, licking along the outside of my lips. I thrusted my hips toward him, my body hungry for more. He held me still, toying with me, driving me nearly insane. It was almost painful, the way I needed him. I begged him to take me, lick me, touch me. He only chuckled, even the breath on my skin enough to enflame me more.
Finally, he took mercy, dipping his tongue into my wetness. I nearly shot up from the bed, my body stiffening, then shuddering as an almost instant orgasm rocked me body and soul. I couldn’t believe I was coming so quickly, but I rode it out, loving it, letting it wash over me until I was left with nothing but a hazy, warm afterglow.
“That was fast,” he murmured, before starting up again. I only moaned as his tongue found me, delving into my most secret places. Places that had been waiting for him to rediscover them. I felt the tension building again, so quickly, so perfectly, and it wasn’t long before the pressure on my clit was enough to send me into another orgasm. I gasped, shuddering, overcome with pleasure.
He’d had enough foreplay, clearly, because the next thing I knew he was kneeling between my legs, lowering his shorts. His erection sprang free, and I could have wept with joy at the sight of it. So long, thick, hard. Just as I’d remembered it so many times when I fantasized about him. Every woman’s wet dream, and it was all mine. For the night, at least.
He positioned himself against me, still kneeling with my legs on either side of him. I wanted to close my eyes but kept them open instead, wanting to see him when he entered me. And when he did, it was pure bliss.
“Oh, God,” I whispered, shocked at the sensation of his manhood sliding inside me. It had been so long. Too long. I closed my eyes finally, smiling in satisfaction.
He lowered himself, hovering over me. I wrapped my legs around his waist, my arms around his neck and let him ride me. It was enough just to have him inside me, just to feel him in and on and all over me. Our bodies pressed together, connected again. The slight sheen of sweat that rose up on his skin as he worked, the muscles in his back moving under my hands as he thrusted in and out, in and out. It was magic, bliss, better than anything I’d imagined it being if we were ever together again.
He looked down at me, pulling away far enough for our eyes to meet. I could hardly see in the darkness, but his eyes were clear as anything as he stared into mine. We rode on and on, never breaking eye contact. I’d never felt so connected to him, body and soul. Like all the years between then and now were nothing, and we’d never spent more than a minute apart. Time was nothing, anyway. We were eternal. And we were meant to do what we did at that moment.
“Yes…yes…” It was all I could say. He had to know how much I wanted it, how much I needed him inside me to make me whole again. To give me back whatever it was I had lost when I left him. I had never been quite myself. Part of me was with him, always. With him inside me, taking me higher and higher toward bliss, the missing puzzle piece fell back into place. It was him all along. I’d been missing him.
His motions sped up, his thrusts got deeper, more desperate. The tension grew in my core, building, tightening, spreading through me. I welcomed it, urging him on with my eyes and my voice. Jerking my hips upward to meet him thrust for thrust, pulling him closer with my legs around his butt. He cried out, and I felt myself tighten around him to signal my orgasm.
When it hit, I was sure I would break into a million pieces. I gripped, him, raking my nails down his back, screaming into his shoulder as years of desire, sadness, loneliness, aching need, thwarted love and more came pouring out of me in a wave. It was the most intense, most all-encompassing orgasm I’d ever experienced. Somewhere in the back of my mind I knew he was coming, too, and I reveled in the thought that we finished together. And still I came, still the waves of ecstasy washed over my body, leaving me breathless and trembling, crying after the rush of emotion subsided.
“Are you okay?” He forgot his own climax, looking down at me. He smoothed the hair back from my forehead, wiping tears from my cheeks.
I nodded. “That was intense,” I whispered. I had the feeling he understood without my having to go into further detail.
It had been so different. I tried to tell myself it was all in my head, that the time we’d spent apart made it seem intense. My body had changed, too. I wasn’t a kid anymore. I’d carried and given birth to a child. I reacted differently to his touch, to the feel of him inside me. And it had been years since a man had been there. Of course, it would be better than anything I could remember.
It was all true—and at the same time, none of it was. It wasn’t just the newness, or my virtual second virginity. It was him. Being with Eli again felt like no time had passed. We still fit together perfectly, like we were meant for each other. It was magic.
The room was too dark for me to get a good look at his face, and I wondered what he was thinking. Was it as good for him? Did he feel what I felt? Why didn’t I have the courage to ask him?
Chapter Fifteen
Eli
I wanted to ask her if it felt as good to her as it had to me, but I didn’t have the courage. It was enough to lie there with her in my arms.
“I don’t even want to tell you how long it had been since I did that,” she murmured. I heard her faint chuckle. Something inside me roared with pride, and I hoped the room was dark enough to hide my smile. She pushed herself up on one elbow, looking down at me. “I guess you didn’t exactly take vows of celibacy while we were apart.”
I snorted. “Not hardly.”
“Mm-hmm. How many women?”
“None of your business.”
“How many? I bet you can’t even tell me. I bet you have no idea.”
I sighed. She had a way of getting right under my skin and rooting around for my weak spots. “You’re right. I don’t know. Okay? A lot. Can we leave it at that?”
“A lot.” She seemed to think it over. “Are we talking three digit
s?”
“Tori.”
“Okay, okay. Sorry.” She went silent. Her hand rested on my chest, and she traced random patterns with the tip of one fingernail.
“How many for you?”
“None of your business,” she said, in a snotty tone.
“Come on. You asked me.”
“Yeah, and you didn’t give me a straight answer.”
“So? Because I couldn’t. You mean to tell me you can’t even keep track of all the men you’ve been with since we were together?”
“No. I just don’t feel like sharing, is all.” I knew from the tone of her voice what the answer was.
“You mean you weren’t with anybody? Not even a single person?”
“Damn it, Eli.” She sat up, wrapping her arms around her knees. Her back was bare, and even in the dim light I could see the way she shook. I put a hand on her skin, making her jerk away like I’d burned her.