Yours Always

by Rhonda Dennis

  Snapping out of it, I drape the tie over my shoulders, grateful that it’s already in the appropriate knot. Tying a tie is one trick I never learned. One last glance in the mirror, a deep breath for added confidence, and I slowly open the bedroom door to stick one leg through the gap.

  “Are you ready for me, Mr. Reilly?” I ask in my most seductive voice as I join him in the living room.

  Fletcher is speechless, and his jaw falls slack. He struggles to put a sentence together, which makes me smile. “Hot,” he finally manages to eke out. “So hot.”

  I pull a chair from the dining area and put it in the middle of the room. “Why don’t you have a seat?”

  I don’t even get a chance to finish the sentence before he’s ready and waiting for his next command. Scrolling through my phone, I find the song I want, turn the volume to max, and set it on the coffee table. Never once in my life have I done a striptease, and I hope I’m decent at it. I close my eyes and let the beat of the music course through my body. As I catch the rhythm, I slowly begin gyrating my hips in time to the music. The tie is the first to go, and I gently toss it to the sofa after running it seductively through my fingers.

  My eyes are still closed as my shoulders begin to move to the music, and I don’t open them until my fingers finish the trail down my chest and land on the first closed button. Fletcher’s eyes are smoldering with desire, and I can see how much he wants me from his body language. I feel sexy, secure, and wanted, which makes me more confident in my dancing.

  The shirt is completely unbuttoned, but before I take it off, I throw the fedora and it lands on the floor. Teasing him, I pull the shirt closed, slowly open it, and snap it closed again before provocatively bending over to pick up the hat from the floor. I run the brim across my lips before lightly sinking my teeth into it then casting it aside onto the sofa. Walking like a runway model, I approach Fletcher and straddle one of his thick, hard thighs. His eager hands try to pull the shirt off of me, but I give him a playful smack while shaking my head.

  “You’re killing me,” he growls against my neck.

  “So you like what you see?”

  “Oh, I love what I see. I want it. Now.”

  “Nope. Not yet,” I say, slowly sliding down the length of his thigh, then flipping around so I’m facing away from him. Arching my back, I rest the back of my head against his shoulder while running my fingers through his hair. His hands greedily grab for my breasts, and once again, he finds himself reprimanded.

  “No hands, mister,” I say, rising from his lap and finally casting aside the shirt. I feel the silky cups of the bra and make sure I press my breasts together to better pronounce my cleavage. After running my hands down my waist and upper thighs, I semi-turn and give my rear a hard smack. Fletcher’s breath catches, and I notice that he’s having difficulties swallowing.

  Taking the tie from the sofa, I loosely drape it over the back of his neck, run it down his arms, and smile playfully as I secure his wrists together. I give his neck a playful lick and a suck before doing the same thing to his lips. His desire for me is so intense that he’s trembling.

  “Savannah.”

  “Shhhh,” I say, kissing him hard. He greedily returns the affection then moans with pleasure when I raise his shirt to lick and kiss his chest and abs. I’m feeling empowered and sexy as hell when I leave his lap to get the white shirt from the sofa. I twirl it a couple of times, and then blindfold Fletcher with it.

  I start kissing his neck again, and the music changes to something with an abrasive beat. I don’t even remember downloading the song, but I’m so wrapped up in what I’m doing that I disregard it. It’s not until I kiss Fletcher on the lips that I realize something is wrong. Very wrong. He’s not trembling with desire anymore; he’s broken out in a cold sweat again. His breathing isn’t sporadic from want, and he seems terrified.

  I pull the shirt from his eyes to find them glassed over. Fletcher’s body might be with me, but his mind is somewhere else. “Fletcher,” I softly say as his breathing gets more labored.

  I reach out to stop the music, quickly untie his hands, and grip his face between my palms to make him look at me. My heart is thudding because I don’t know what’s going on, but I know in the pit of my stomach that whatever it is, it’s bad.

  “Fletcher, honey. Talk to me. What’s wrong?”

  His breathing gets so labored that he starts to make grunting sounds. He rapidly shakes his head from side to side, and I can’t hold his face between my hands anymore. Before I can do anything to stop it, he violently lurches from the chair, and my head smacks against the hard floor. He’s on top of me, saying “stop” over and over again. He’s looking right at me, but he doesn’t see me. I’m scared out of my mind, and I have no clue what’s going on or what I should do. Before I can stop myself, I begin to cry.

  “I’m sorry, Fletcher. I don’t know what I did wrong. I’m so sorry,” I keep saying over and over again while he pins me to the floor. As I sob, I notice that his grip begins to loosen, and I take the opportunity to wipe my tears.

  “Oh, my God. Savannah! Did I hurt you? Oh, baby, please tell me I didn’t hurt you. I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry, sweetheart. Please tell me you’re okay.” He’s practically sobbing, himself.

  I sit up and push myself away from him to rest my back against the sofa. He crawls over to me. “Are you okay? Please tell me that I didn’t hurt you. God, please.”

  “I’m okay,” I manage to say before he smothers me with a hug.

  “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. Oh, baby, I’m so sorry.”

  “You scared me, Fletcher. You wouldn’t answer me, and the look that was on your face—it gave me chills. What happened?”

  He releases me, and with a defeated sigh, he asks me if I’ll please join him in the bedroom. I nod my head, and that’s when I realize I have a goose egg forming. I touch the tender spot and wince.

  “I did hurt you. Shit! Savannah, is it bad? Should I bring you to the hospital? Do you want to call the police? Leave? I’ll understand.”

  “No. Stop and listen to me. I’ve been the victim of domestic abuse, and what happened here wasn’t abuse. Something was definitely wrong, but you weren’t out to hurt me. It’s like you checked out or something.”

  He hands me a plastic bag filled with ice that he’s wrapped in a dish towel. “Come on. I’ll explain everything. I should have done this a long time ago, but I’d been doing so well…”

  I follow him into the bedroom, where he lies in bed and pats the spot next to him. I lie in his arms, and he takes it upon himself to keep my ice pack in place.

  “This is hard for me, Savannah. Not many people know about my problem.”

  “You can tell me anything, Fletcher. Remember how hard it was for me to tell you about my issues, and look how freeing it was for me. Maybe that’s all you need? There’s nothing you can tell me that will make me want to leave you, so tell me everything. Is it drugs?”

  “No, nothing like that.” He sighs. “Have you heard of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder? Some people call it PTSD for short.”

  “I’ve heard of it, but I don’t know too much about it.”

  “First of all, it sucks. Essentially, it’s a mental disorder I developed due to a combination of the physical and emotional trauma I experienced while overseas.”

  “Is it from the explosion?” I ask.

  “Partly,” he patiently answers. He removes the ice pack from my head and uses that hand to lightly stroke my arm. “Are you sure you want to hear the story?”

  “Yes, I want to know everything there is to know about you. I want to know all of your experiences, everything that’s made you happy, sad, afraid—everything.”

  He nods his head. “If you decide you don’t want to hear anymore, just stop me, okay?”

  “Okay,” I agree. Butterflies flitter in my stomach because I have no idea what’s about to come from his mouth. The only thing I know for sure is that whatever it is, I’ll continue to love
and cherish him.

  “So you know that the truck exploded while Brody was driving, and that he was killed instantly, right?”

  “Yes.”

  He’s quiet for a few seconds. “I remember most of it: the smells, the high pitched ringing in my ears, the searing heat from the fire. I was pulled from the wreckage and some kind of garment was tossed over me to quash the flames. Once they were out, I was loaded into the back of a pickup truck and driven to a bunker. The reason the scars are so bad is because I didn’t get medical attention right away. I was held hostage and tortured for three days before I was rescued.”

  Gasping, my body tightens as I try to hold back the tears that are brimming. I couldn’t even begin to imagine the agony, fright, and anguish he went through.

  “I was hooded and strapped to a chair. With the burns on my back, it was excruciating. I repeatedly begged them to kill me, but obviously they wouldn’t. I’m not going to retell every event, every act, every detail, because it’s too hard. I wish every single day that I could scrub it out of my memory, but I can’t. The memories sit there, haunting me when I least expect it. Like tonight. I loved every second of tonight, and I’ll be very upset if you won’t give me a repeat performance. Everything was fine until you tied my hands. I started to get a little anxious, but I was so wrapped up in the moment that I cast it aside. But once I was blindfolded…”

  “I’m so sorry, Fletcher.”

  “Don’t be. You didn’t know, sweetheart. How could you know?”

  “So as long as I don’t tie you up or blindfold you, you’re fine?”

  “Unfortunately, no. That’s not how this works. Remember the food poisoning at the wedding?”

  “Yes.”

  “It wasn’t food poisoning, it was the fireworks. The loud popping and the explosions, they triggered a reaction. I was too embarrassed to tell you the truth because I’d been doing so well. I hadn’t had an attack in quite a while, and I thought I’d finally been cured. Obviously, I haven’t.”

  “Have you seen a doctor? Is there some kind of help you can get?”

  “I was in a hospital for a long time getting treated for it. Remember how cold Julia was when we first ran into her at the carnival?”

  I nod.

  “It’s because she’s still mad at me for leaving the treatment facility against medical advice. I was supposed to stay for another four weeks, but I couldn’t take it anymore. The panic attacks had stopped, and I didn’t want to stay locked in my room any longer… That’s how bad I had it, Savannah. I developed agoraphobia, and I wouldn’t leave my room. Therapy and the right meds helped me to get past so many of the issues and obstacles I faced. I didn’t see the need to stay any longer. I wanted to be home in Louisiana, where I could spend time with Ben, Molly, and Julia. Julia needed me. Molly was young, and had just lost her husband.”

  “I understand your reasoning, but I also understand why Julia was upset.”

  “Well, she’s over it now, and that’s why I need you to promise that we’ll keep this to ourselves. Ben obviously knows, but that’s it. Julia doesn’t need to know about these recent episodes, okay.”

  I nod. “Okay. Is there anything else I need to know about?”

  “I don’t think so. Long as I stay away from triggers, I should be okay.”

  “I’m so sorry this happened to you.”

  He lightly kisses me on my forehead. “I’m sorry, too. But if everything hadn’t happened the way it did, I might not have found you. So, that’s my story.”

  I position myself so I can look him in the eye. “I love you, Fletcher Reilly. I’ll always love you, and I want you to know that you can tell me anything.”

  “Ah, Savannah. Those words melt my heart. I love you, too. I’m yours always.”

  I rest my head on his chest and listen to the beating of his heart. We’re silent for a long time. I’m not sure what’s going through his mind, but I’m going over the things he’s confided in me. Tortured. He was tortured for three days with severe burns and injuries from an explosion. The fact that he lived is amazing in itself, but to know that the torture still haunts him hurts my heart. That he had to live it once is terrible enough, but to have to relive it over and over and over, when will his torture end?

  His breathing is slow and steady, and I think he’s fallen asleep until I feel his fingers unclasping the back of my bra. “So you bought this just for me?”

  “I sure did,” I say with a smile.

  “Thank you,” he says, and the way he says it alludes to the fact that he’s not talking about the new bra and panties. I take his face in my hands and draw him close to me. What I’d started out intending to be hot and heavy sex turned into gentle and tender lovemaking, but I wasn’t about to complain. Fletcher showed me how much he loved me, and I decide right then that he’s right—we’re soul mates. But, when should I let him know that?

  Chapter Eleven

  I slip out early the next morning so I can meet with an admissions counselor before going to work. The admissions process is pretty painless, and I walk out of the building as a nursing student. It’s funny how timing works, a new semester is starting at the same moment my future career path becomes clear. Not to mention that I’ll be graduating in two years instead of four. I’ll start with my associate’s degree, start working as a nurse, and then decide if I want to continue on with my education. My journey is unfurling before me, and all I have to do is keep moving forward.

  After work, I stop at the store to pick up some things to make a huge grilled chicken salad. Enough of the eating out. If I’m changing my life, might as well include my body in that change, too. I make a quick call to Fletcher to see if he’s interested in joining me for supper. He is, but he asks me if I’d mind eating at his place. I tell him that it’s no problem and head towards his apartment.

  I lightly rap on the door, and he opens is almost immediately. I give him a quick peck before pushing past him to get the groceries unloaded. “I have three different kinds of lettuce, carrots, tomatoes, all kinds of stuff. What’s your favorite dressing? I was thinking about making a simple vinaigrette, but if you don’t like that kind of thing, I bought a couple of bottles of some other stuff.”

  Realizing that I hadn’t even greeted him properly, I rectify the situation in what I hope comes off as smooth. “So, what did you do today? Were you busy?”

  “The usual stuff. Nothing I couldn’t handle.”

  I open the fridge to put the perishables inside and notice it’s empty. “Babe, we’ve got to get this place stocked up. There’s not even a bottle of water in here. Why didn’t you go to the store?”

  “I didn’t have time today. I’ll go tomorrow.”

  “You literally have nothing, zero, zilch. Do you want to go while I’m fixing supper?”

  “No,” he says, coming up behind me. He encircles my waist and draws me near. “I want to stay right here and enjoy you.” His lips trail kisses down my neck, and I’m wrought with a deep shiver.

  “Stop. Not now,” I fuss. “I’ll surely cut myself if you keep that up.”

  He takes the knife from my hand, sets it beside the cutting board, and turns me to face him. His lips are upon mine, and I toss the handful of lettuce I’m still gripping onto the counter. He tightly squeezes his arms together around my thighs, and lifts me from the floor. Our lips remain locked as he fumbles his way into the bedroom.

  “I’ve been thinking about this all day long,” he mumbles as he pauses long enough to cast his shirt aside.

  “So have I,” I admit between kisses. I unbutton my blouse, and it joins Fletcher’s on the floor.

  Fletcher pins my arms above my head as he teases and torments my body with his lips and tongue. He’s not being soft about it, and I find myself turned on by his aggressiveness. It feels primitive, no thought needed. Just two desperate bodies yearning for the release that’s sure to come.

  “I want you,” I whisper against his lips. “Please. Now.” The anticipation leaves me
trembling. He accepts my plea, and my eyes roll into the back of my head as he fills me.

  “Tell me how you want it,” he softly requests in my ear.

  “I want it rough,” I answer.

  “Oh, you want rough, huh?” he asks, thrusting deeply inside of me. “Like that?”

  I gasp while nodding my head. “Yes, like that. Just like that.”

  It’s probably one of the best sexual encounters we’ve had since our first time, and we’re both exhausted, sweaty, and out of breath once we finish. I want to jump into the shower, but my body isn’t ready to let me move yet. Instead, I lie in Fletcher’s arms as he softly strokes my hair.

  “Savannah?”

  “Yeah,” I answer.

  “I need to tell you something, and I’ll completely understand if it changes things with us. It’s hard for me to admit this, but I’m not going to lie to you.”

  I sit up so I can face him. “What’s wrong, Fletcher?”

  He turns his back to me and puts his face in his hands as he sits on the edge of the bed. “I don’t have any food in the fridge because I’ve been worried about leaving the house again. What if I have another attack while I’m in the store? Or driving? You’ve seen for yourself how much they debilitate me.”

  I move to sit behind him and lightly kiss his scarred shoulder. “Baby, you did those things on your own for a long time before these recent attacks. You’ve had some serious triggers: the fireworks and me tying you up. I’m so sorry about that. I feel terrible.”

  “You have nothing to feel sorry for, sweetheart. How could you have known? I love that you feel free and uninhibited around me. I know what you’ve overcome to get to this point, and I consider it a gift. Not the sex, but the trust that you have in me.”

  “I love you, Fletcher. I love you in a way that I never thought was possible. You make me feel beautiful and wanted, and it feels natural to be open with you. It was strange to me in the beginning, but now it just feels right.”