Beyond Angel Avenue

by Sarah Michelle Lynch

  She screams when I push inside her, but I’m surprised at how wet she is. She’s tight and it hurts but bloody hell, she smells of sex and she’s gagging for me as much as I am for her.

  “I’m just going to fuck you, baby.”

  “Please.”

  She reaches down and tugs off her ruined tights and knickers, throwing her legs right around me. She tugs up her dress and she’s beneath me, on the carpeted stairs, wearing just a bra while I’m covering her fully clothed, just my jeans hanging below my arse.

  I rear back and push deep inside, her body growing used to mine as she cries out for more. I feel her trembling so hard around me and I have no idea how I do this to such a woman as Jules. She could have anyone but she loves me and she peels herself naked and spurts, only for me.

  She reaches beneath herself as I pump deep into her belly, removing the bra at last. I reach down and take her breasts in my mouth and the taste is just the same; she even makes the same noises she always did when I kiss and lick her throat. Her bottom is still so smooth and pert (if a tiny bit meatier) and I grab it as we begin to fuck harder.

  She fights with me to get my sweater off and I let her tug it over my head. After it’s gone, her hands are everywhere. She’s drinking in my body with her hands and eyes, screaming, “Oh, oh, Rick, I’m so close.”

  “I’m ready when you are. You’ve been gone so long!” She pulls my nipples and I growl, “My wench is back.”

  She pulls me close and we kiss like animals, biting, gnawing, licking, grunting. She’s going to come hard and I’m waiting for it. I’m waiting for her. I remember what always used to push her over the edge so easily – and I flick my tongue at the roof of her mouth and her eyes roll into the back of her head.

  Holding her hands behind my neck, she rocks herself with me and we’re on fire, pulsing and vibrating together. She squeezes her eyes shut, “Oh god oh god… oh god… oh god! Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes!” She drags in a breath.

  “Jules!” My cries join hers.

  “Warrick! Don’t stop, don’t stop, it’s still…”

  She pulls me into her, so I’m fully lodged inside her tight entrance, and her pelvic floor kneads me up and down, her thighs shaking all around me, her breasts little fragile dough balls on her chest wobbling delicately as she comes.

  I withdraw, shaking all over. Jules has the most epic orgasms of any woman I have ever been with – because she knows how to make herself come with my cock. We know each other inside and out and what we have – intimate knowledge of one another – is so precious. We’re so good together physically, but it’s the other stuff that’s difficult.

  She holds me to her breast and moans, “I need a bath but I need bed more.”

  I pull up to survey her ice-grey eyes. “Julianne? Tell me you’re real and not a daydream?”

  “Take me to bed, Rick, just take me to bed,” she moans, shaking and desperate, “I just want to lie in your arms. I’ve missed you so much.”

  As I carry her up the steps, tears fall occasionally, spilling down her face. I let them fall and feel grateful for every one.

  “You’re all muscular?” I question on the way to bed. Her legs are taut with ropes of sinew, like a ballet dancer. Her thighs are wider than her hips.

  “I dance now, every day,” she groans, “I danced in a lot of places… took a lot of classes. I had to know, Warrick. I just had to know if I’m like her.”

  I keep hold of her as I toss back the bedcovers, gently lowering us in together. We bury ourselves under the duvet and tangle ourselves up tighter than we’ve ever held each other.

  Querying each other with our eyes only, I guess, “Your mum?”

  She nods slowly, then shakes her head, conflicted by her feelings. “I’m like her in a lot of respects. There are things I forgot about her, things too painful to remember.”

  “What do you mean, exactly?”

  She smirks. “Well, I can dance like her.”

  “Well, I bloody know that already, Jules,” I fire back, sarcastic.

  Her chin wobbles against my chest and she tries to hold it in but she sobs, and she sobs. Tears pour and pour from her, tears I don’t really understand. Is she happy she’s back or does she now realise I wasn’t worth it after all?

  Deep down inside, I’m angry. I feel like I haven’t got a shred of defence here. I’m so vulnerable. She peels me down to nothing with one look. She’s still crying and I don’t know how to be, or how to express myself.

  “Please don’t be like that,” she begs, “please, I need you tonight. I need you. I made a thousand friends while I was away, but I only have one true friend, you. Tonight though,” she gasps, fighting for air, “I just need him to be my lover. I just need my lover tonight.”

  I gulp down the razor-sharp ball lodged in my throat and pull her closer, losing my fingers and arms in her hair, kissing madly at the crown of her head. She’s shuddering so hard and this angelic, willowy angel feels suddenly frail in my arms. I can’t bring myself to think about all this time apart we’ve had. I just – can’t find an explanation of why she wants me. Why me?

  “We both hurt,” she says, imploring me, “but I don’t want to hurt anymore. Do you?”

  “Jules.” That’s all I can say, hopefully entreating her not to push me because I don’t know how I’ll react. I don’t know why women need the emotional confessional after sex.

  Her head is rising and falling on my chest as she lies here on top, tears smothering my skin still. What does she want me to say? That I’m sorry I let my ex-wife manipulate me? That I’m the one who made Jules go abroad?

  “I hurt too,” I blurt out, my voice not normal, my lips trembling so frantically it hurts. It’s painful to hold in all this pain. My chest feels rigid and tight and I want to cry, too, but I’m scared of crying. I cried so much after she left that eventually, I forced myself to stop and vowed never to cry again. I can’t remember the last time I cried.

  “I’m sorry, I’m sorry…”

  “I hurt so much, Jules. So much.”

  She lifts her head to look into my eyes and tears still pour from her. She looks so beautiful, I can’t find a word for how beautiful she is to me. She has this glow, this aura, and I feel like I’m the only one who sees it. She glitters and shines and dazzles with every glance she bestows on me.

  She rises slightly and hovers over me, her face dripping tears down my cheeks. I hold my hands gingerly at the base of her back, trying to hold it together. I don’t know if I can but she’s staring at me and I’m just focusing on figuring out what she might say next.

  She says nothing.

  She digs her hands deep in my hair and attacks my mouth, forcing me to yield, to succumb, to bow down. Blood rages inside me and I close my eyes, giving myself up to her commands. While she kisses me, I hold her breast and squeeze and she changes tack, pinning my arms above my head, sucking my throat in the crease between clavicle and shoulder.

  “Ah, Jules.”

  “You went back to the gym,” she moans.

  She’s biting my bicep next, burrowing her nose in my skin, licking, then nibbling and rubbing her wet groin against my thigh. My balls tighten and my erection lifts and brushes her stomach. She sucks my nipple and licks the trail of body hair leading down to my cock.

  She licks my length and my balls. She chews my thighs, my calves. Her hands are running through my body hair and she’s mewling and purring, seeking all of me. She’s kissing my hipbone when I spot the look in her eyes – carnal and pleading – so I respond.

  I throw her on her back and she lifts her hands above her head, lying back, eyes closed. She’s stopped crying but her face and neck are still red and patchy with fiery, opaque emotion.

  “Jules?”

  She opens her eyes and watches as I hold her breast and suckle the tiny bud. “Yes?”

  “You really love me? I don’t understand.” I still can’t believe it.

  “I don’t just love you,” she whispers, “I require
you. I did what I said, I went, but now I’m back. What is there to stop us now?”

  I sit between her thighs and tease two fingers at her entrance, tickling her upper wall. Her arms lolling above her, she grins and her eyes twinkle. Satisfied she’s aroused for me again, I bury myself back inside her and she whimpers, her need so sharp and vital.

  “I need you,” I tell her as I begin making love with her, the bed a much better surface than the staircase. Her hands roam my arms and she wraps her legs around my waist, tugging me close.

  “I need you too. Only you make me soften… only ever, you.”

  I’m her man and I’m only alive because of her, I have to remind myself of that. My heart was dead and buried before she came along. I hover over her, looking down into her eyes, our arms wrapped tight around one another. I have a million questions on my lips.

  She puts her finger over my mouth and whispers, “Be my lover. I want him back.”

  I push deep inside her and I’m no longer thinking, no longer caring, because I’m back in the arms of the one woman who keeps my heart beating – who keeps me strong. Nothing else matters, not right now.

  Over her shoulder I spot a tattoo on her upper back. I can’t read it from this perspective because the font is scrawl but I ask, “What does it say? This other new tattoo.”

  “It says Warrick. I got it to ward off bad men,” she giggles, and I bite her shoulder.

  I’m beyond glad she didn’t forget me. I’m beyond happy she’s back.

  “You often thought of me then?” I ask, my voice unavoidably husky.

  “YES!”

  If she’s back, she really does love me, so I know I can get away with a little more. I want to agitate her, to itch and scratch away at her heart so she needs me to heal it back up.

  I play with her breasts until she’s trying to slap me away from the raw, red buds on her chest. I bury myself completely, keeping her locked tight in my arms, my weight pinning her where I want her.

  I take her to the edge so many times, slowing when I know she’s desperate to come. I’m desperate to come a second time with her, but I’m more desperate to swallow her whole this time, to gather her to me so tight she has no chance of escaping. She’s no girl anymore, she’s a woman; she’s been away and still, she came back to me. To me, I repeat to myself.

  When she’s begging and pleading for me to give her release, I dig my fists in the pillow either side of her head and ram my cock into her, long and hard, deep and rhythmic, so hard she’s digging her nails in my sides as I build up a pace she can’t cope with. Her knees bent and her spread legs bucking back and forth, I watch with glee as my body makes savage demands of hers.

  A fire burns along my spine and almost severs me in two, my blood boiling, raising the hairs on the back of my neck. My arse aching like fuck, I stop thrusting and gasp, unleashing my cries in her ear. My cock rages deep inside her and pulses hot cum. She screams my name, arching up against me, her hot, hungry belly devouring me, her solid thighs battering the hell out of my body as she wraps them tight around me, her muscles shaking and contracting in manic rhythms.

  Slowly, I allow myself to relax and lie on top of her, trying not to squash her too much. Arms wrapped around my head, she clings to my hair as I cling to her body and make a pillow of her chest, her heart galloping beneath my ear. Once we’ve caught our breaths, I kiss her face and kiss her lips, whispering, “Julianne, tell me you love me.”

  “I love you. I want you. I want all your love. I want to be your wife and raise your children. I’ve wanted you since the day I woke up and found you in my life and realised life isn’t actually shit, it’s wonderful. I want you… and I desperately hope you want me too.”

  My heart fills with a blossoming optimism I haven’t ever felt. I revel in her tactile demands for lots more kisses and cuddles, for me to be gentle, to repair her.

  “I missed you,” I tell her, “I missed you every, single day. You’re the love of my life. You’re the one. You’re my girl and I’ve been so sad without you.”

  My arms beneath her trembling body, she strokes her fingers through the down on my forearms. “I’m back now. I missed you like the rainbow misses the rain.”

  “My lovely girl, my Jules.” She holds me tight and I can’t squeeze her back hard enough.

  I start to kiss her once more, feeling as though I could go all night, but her eyes are fluttering open and shut and her mouth’s too pliant. “I’ve been travelling since I don’t know when… I’m so tired and just need you to hold me. I just need you so much, Rick… I love you.”

  I roll her onto her side and pull her bottom against my stomach. She drops off in my arms, her body perfectly aligned with mine, her soul exhausted.

  I take the chance to touch her hair, her skin. I trace a finger gently down her spine and count and recount all the bumps I can feel. There’s just too much beauty here for me to know where to start, and I know, I’ll never stop loving her. She’s still the most beautiful woman I’ve ever known. Once you’ve known a woman like her, you don’t go back. It wouldn’t matter what she did or where she went, my heart would follow hers. I love her, all of me does, and I could never hate her. My respect for Jules goes deeper than the blue seas, runs thicker than lava down a mountainside, shines brighter than the sun. She has a strength in her nobody but me has ever seen, a tenderness reserved only for me. We met when we weren’t looking for anything and I knew very early on, we were meant to be. There were times we could just be silent, times we slung shit at each other, times we cried together and times we had to be apart to try to digest our feelings. Being with her is a drug, a rollercoaster. Yet I can’t help wanting more. I’m scared shitless but now she’s back, things have to change and it’s time, now’s the time to make a go of this. Both of us have to try to leave the past behind and move on.

  While she sleeps, I reach for my phone and text Dad a ‘Happy Christmas’, telling him I won’t be joining him for dinner because my wanderer has returned. Joe’s with his mother for Christmas this year but I text him too, warning Jules is back and we need time.

  In fact, with snow forecast for today and tomorrow, I don’t think she or I will be leaving the house for the whole of the holidays.

  Chapter Two

  Jules

  “Happy New Year,” I tell him, laid across his chest, our arms locked around each other’s. We’ve barely left this bed in a week. I can hardly remember my own name. I lean down to kiss him and I know what he wants from the way his tongue is darting against mine.

  “I came on this morning,” I manage between breaths, his kisses still peppering my lips, “the cramps woke me in the night and… yeah.”

  “No problem,” he moans, still kissing me, “I just want to kiss my girl on New Year’s morning. Don’t care what comes next.”

  I lift slightly to examine his lush, deep-brown eyes and kiss his nose. I swallow before I make my confession. “I’m kind of glad I’m in the clear because I’m not on the pill.”

  “Pardon?” He squints, brushing hair from my face.

  I twist my lips. “I stopped taking it while I was away. I was travelling so often, I kept forgetting to take it, so I stopped. I’ve never had bad periods so there was no real need and when I came back home on Christmas Eve, I already knew I was near the end of my cycle so I couldn’t get pregnant. I should’ve told you, but I didn’t. I’m sorry. I just wanted to be back with you so badly.”

  He pulls me beneath him, my knickers the only thing separating us. He rolls his eyes and shakes his head. “Suppose we should stop shagging and get out of the house, anyway.”

  I laugh in his ear and pull him close so he can rest in between my breasts. “I guess so.”

  Over the past few days there have been questions in his eyes whenever we’ve stopped to eat or bathe but he won’t ask me them, not until he’s sure I’m ready. Warrick hates fighting with me, hates confrontation. We’ve yet to have the talk about where I’ve been, what I was doing, why I spent so l
ong away. I shouldn’t admit it but, I waited on that corner on Christmas Eve expecting to see him emerge from the pub with another woman on his arm – maybe I even thought he might’ve finally moved and left this place behind. I don’t know what I was thinking really but I was scared to death of him actually showing up and me having to explain myself. So far, he hasn’t asked a single question and it’s as if we’ve picked up just where we left off. Except, it’s not the same as before, not at all. Now I love him more than I can measure, more than I can explain. Time and distance and reunion have made my heart grow fonder and I’m so scared of what we could lose.

  He reaches into the bedside drawer and pulls out a small jewellery box I recognise. It’s the one containing my solitaire engagement ring, the one I left behind. He pulls out the gleaming ring and holds it in front of my eyes.

  “Marry me, Julianne, as soon as possible. Don’t leave me again. Promise to stay by my side and I’ll stay by yours. Don’t take the pill. Let’s have a family and live, just live, and let me look after you forever. I love you more every day… I love you.”

  He slips the ring on my finger and between his hard, fierce kisses and my tears, I exclaim, “Yes! I will… yes!”

  I’m worried but I’m not unsure. I’m aware. I’m not blind. I know we have unresolved issues. However, I just love him and I know there’s nobody else for me.

  I travelled all the way around the world and never found one other person who made me feel the way he does.

  ***

  It’s the second of January and I have no idea where Christmas went! Well, I tell a lie because my deliciously aching body knows exactly what happened to make me zone out for more than a week!

  He offered to ring in sick today but I told him that isn’t his style and I sent him to work with the largest packed lunch he’s ever had. During our week-long shagathon, I placed an online grocery order and filled the cupboards and shelves, which were pretty bare. Going by the contents of the freezer, I don’t doubt he’s been living off microwave meals and dinners down the pub.