A Flawed Heart
Page 18
She sits up, kisses me hard, and pushes me down onto my back as she straddles my hips. “I’m not done yet.”
I yield to her, and feel her intense heat as she lowers herself onto me. She digs her fingernails into my chest and then pulls up and hovers her hips, keeping just the head of my cock inside of her. She pins me down, so I can’t thrust myself into her.
“Don’t ever talk to me like that again. Do your hear me?” She slides herself up and down on me with slow movements. Her perfect tits bounce as she gently fucks me. I grip her hair in my hand and pull it.
“Don’t you ever fucking walk out on me again.” I pull her down and kiss her deeply.
She sits up and flips her hair over her shoulder, her eyes closed with pleasure. She rides me harder and I watch her gorgeous body. I feel her contract around me as she comes and then collapses on my chest. She takes deep, heaving breaths as her orgasm ripples through her. I sit up and move her onto her back. Her head rests on my pillow and I kiss her up her stomach to her breast, taking each nipple into my mouth in turn. She moans and runs her fingers in my hair. I nibble her ear.
“Are you done?”
She giggles.
“I love that sound.” I push myself into her, filling her, rocking into her slow and steady. I kiss her everywhere, getting tangled in her hair, her arms, and her lips, wrapped in her scent and her warmth. “This is where I want you, Claire. With me. This is where you belong. We belong together.” My cock pulses as I come, and I let out a loud moan.
We lie together in bed, covered in sweat and dirt from the rugby field. The wind blows through the open window, and I feel myself about to doze off. I pull Claire into me but she stands up and starts to get dressed.
“Where are you going, babe?” I ask in a fuzzy, post-sex haze.
She doesn’t respond. I search her face for an answer, but her expression is blank. I start to panic. “Wait, where are you going? Claire?”
She opens my door and pads down the hall. I jump up to look out the window but I don’t see her walk out. She stomps back into my room and I turn around to face her. She’s smiles and throws an object onto the bed, then stands there with her hands on her hips. It’s a duffel bag—filled with Claire’s things.
Chapter Thirteen
~Claire~
I leave work and emerge into the busy streets on a late October afternoon. The fading sunshine feels good on my face as I walk to meet Kat and Lydia at the café. We have a quick cup at the outdoor tables, and I excuse myself shortly afterward to head back to our apartment to get ready for Lydia’s art show tonight.
The past few weeks have brought with them a gradual evolution of my relationship with Jason. I stay at his place more often than not, and the physical proximity has brought with it an even deeper emotional intimacy. I’ve learned more and more about him, and how truly damaged and vulnerable he is. At first I felt overwhelmed by his offer to stay at his place, but the reality is, I need him as much as he needs me.
I was afraid that my staying at his place most nights would turn our passion into boredom, but I couldn’t have been more wrong. Even when I am at my least attractive—sprawled out on the living room floor, in yoga pants and glasses, reading a book—Jason insists that he’s never seen me look sexier. We settled into a nice routine—working, meeting at the gym and then heading home to wash the sweat and chlorine off of our bodies in the shower…together.
I was afraid we’d suffocate each other and argue because of it, but I’m amazed that we can be in the same room for hours—me reading and him writing music—not speaking, just existing together in comfortable silence. The connection between us is ever present, but not laden with any kind of pressure. More often than not, when I come home tired from work, Jason senses my need for a break from everything and brings me out onto the fire escape, to snuggle in the night air and drink beer and share cigarettes. Later, we crawl into bed—always tangled together—and either pass out from exhaustion or…tire ourselves out.
Sex with Jason gets better every time, something I didn’t think was possible. Last night we fell asleep earlier than usual, and I awoke in the middle of the night to find his long fingers making trails against the skin of my thighs. As I dragged my mind from its slumber, I felt his hardening erection pressed into my back. His fingers slid up my legs until they found the waistband of my panties. I whimpered softly to let him know I was barely awake. He left a trail of soft kisses along my neck, causing chills to ripple across my flesh. His hands slid my underwear off of my body, and pushed my long hair from my neck in order to grant himself better access to my skin. We made love half asleep…his hard cock pressed inside me and his hot breath against my neck. Our love for each other poured out with each movement of our entwined bodies…sometimes gentle and slow, sometimes rough and desperate.
I think back with a smile, and blush as I pull out the rarely used key to my apartment. Jason has rugby practice today, and is meeting me later at the Williamsburg Art Space for Lydia’s show. She has been locked in her studio, and when I do see her, she’s covered in gray clay with deep bags under her eyes. The few times we’ve hung out have been at practice for Jason’s show at the fest. Ben’s playing drums on a few songs and, although he insists he sucks, he’s really very good. Lydia and Jason’s talent is infinite and I feel like the odd man out, in spite of Jason’s constant reassurance that my voice adds a new dimension to each song we’ve rehearsed. Singing at the fest has been a source of great anxiety for me—but honestly, I would do anything for Jason.
I pull on a ruby colored dress and gray heels, and leave for the Art Space around seven. Upon my arrival, I find the main hall decorated in a mass of white lights hanging in tendrils from the rafters. They cast the room in a soft glow. The hall is filled with finely dressed parents and young artists. Waiters walk through the hall, carrying trays of champagne and hors d’oeuvres. I feel out of place, and fidget until I see Lydia in the distance with her father and Kat. She practically glows in her white, strapless dress. She waves to me with exuberance, and I make my way toward her through the crowd.
“I’m so nervous,” she gibbers. “I’m so glad you’re here, you look beautiful. Can you keep my dad company? I have to go make sure everything is set up right. See you inside!”
Lydia twirls away with Kat, and leaves me alone with Daniel.
“Claire, my dear, it’s so nice to see you again. How have you been?” He kisses me on the cheek.
“I’m doing really well, thank you. How is work at the hospital?”
“We’ve been having some success with a new cancer treatment. It’s thrilling but it’s also exhausting. I hear that you’ve been taming the beast that is my son.”
I feel a chill of embarrassment run through me, and I’m sure the color of my skin must match the color of my dress. “Um…”
“No need to be shy, dear.” He flashes me an enormous and heartfelt smile. “Lydia told me you’re his girlfriend. She said you’ve been a breath of fresh air for him. My daughter has expressed to me how grateful she is to you for coming into his life.” He stares at me, waiting for a response to his statement.
“Yes. I really care about Jason.”
“You know, I was around your age when I met my wife.”
“Really?”
“Really. I was twenty-three and she was twenty-one. It was a bit of a different time then. Couples committed to each other at a young age, but people still passed judgment about our being in such a serious relationship so early in life. Claire, do you mind if we continue this conversation outside? I’d like to get some air.”
Without waiting for my answer, Daniel places his hand at the small of my back and guides me toward the back entrance of the hall, grabbing two glasses of champagne from one of the waiters as we walk. He hands a glass to me and holds the door open as we step out onto a small slate patio. I take a sip wait for Jason’s father to speak.
He sips his champagne as well and I study his profile as he looks out at the skyline.
I see so much of Jason in him, and find myself dreaming about how handsome Jason will be when we’re older.
“Some people spend their whole lives trying to get to know another person, and never really figure it out. They get married and think that the love will grow and continue, but toward the end of their lives they question if they ever knew the other person—if they ever even truly loved them. It’s sad when that happens. A lot of marriages and end in divorce…but there are other people, and I’ll admit it’s rare, who are lucky enough to find the perfect person. You meet and get inside each other’s hearts right away—almost instantly—it’s as if you were meant to be there and have finally come home. That’s what it was like for Eileen and me. We knew we were meant for each other right away.” He gets quiet for a moment and takes another sip of his champagne, still aimlessly staring into the night. “Lydia tells me you’ve made my son happy, Claire, and that makes me happy. He’s been lost since his mother passed.”
He looks into my eyes with an intensity that I’ve only seen in the eyes of his son. He places a firm hand on my shoulder, commanding my attention. “Eileen was my person…my favorite person. Every day with her was a gift. If you and Jason have found that in each other, then you need to hold on to it. No matter where you are in life when love finds you, it’s worth holding onto. Some people never find it—and if you have, then you should never let it go.”
He’s saying everything that I’ve been feeling these past few weeks. My love for Jason feels so deep and so real, and I never want to let it go.
“There you are.” I hear a familiar voice say.
Jason approaches us; the light from the hall shines at his back and illuminates his gorgeous form as he moves out of the light and into the darkness. He’s clean-shaven, and dressed in a pressed, white shirt with a thin, black tie and black dress pants. His tattoos peek up above his collar. I gasp at how handsome he looks. My skin prickles upon his approach, every fiber of my being cries out for his touch.
Daniel turns to him and extends his hand for his son to shake it. Such a formal gesture demonstrates a clear understanding of the strained and distant relationship he has with his son. Jason stops short in front of his father and for once his eyes rest on someone other than me. He doesn’t reach out to return the greeting and his face shows no readable emotion. Daniel begins to lower his hand. Disappointment in his son’s lack of reciprocation is evident and he takes a deep and labored breath. I echo his disappointment.
Daniel’s defeated sigh morphs into a gasp as Jason opens his arms and embraces his father. Daniel stands rigid and then folds his arms across his son as he hugs him back. I see his form tremble in the moonlight and feel my eyes well with tears.
“Hi, Dad.” Jason says.
Daniel begins to laugh, pats Jason’s back, and takes a step back to grip his son’s shoulders.
“Hello, Jason. It’s good to see you. I’ve just been spending some time with this lovely young lady here.” He gestures toward me with his arm.
At last, Jason’s eyes meet mine. He licks his lips as his eyes roam my body from head to toe, and then he takes a step toward me. I place my hand in his outstretched palm and he brings my fingers to his lips and kisses my knuckles, his tongue darting out slightly to taste my skin.
“More than lovely,” he says, so that only I can hear.
He winks at me, and then turns back to face his father. “Dad, this is my girlfriend, Claire. Claire, this is my father.”
I look at him with confusion. “Jason, we’ve met.”
“I know that you’ve met before, but we weren’t together then. You’re important to me, and I’d like to introduce you.”
I smile and shake my head. Daniel extends his hand again, this time toward me. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Claire.” There is joy in his crystal eyes.
“You guys, it’s starting.” Lydia claps her hands together as she darts out onto the patio and drags her father back inside the hall.
I begin to follow but am held in place by Jason’s grip. “Wait, baby. I haven’t seen you all day.”
He threads his hands into the back of my hair and devours my lips with his. His tongue slides against mine and I feel him squeeze my ass as he consumes me with a fevered kiss. I pull him closer to me, knowing that we should go inside, but not able to tear myself away from the man I love. Daniel’s words ring in my ears as I try my best to show Jason how much I love him with a kiss.
“Ahem. Uh, guys?” The baritone of Ben’s voice pulls me out of the ecstasy of Jason’s touch. “Sorry, but uh, we should really go inside.” He stands in the doorway and I barely recognize him without his standard cargo pants and t-shirt on.
“We’ll be right there,” Jason answers, but his eyes are locked on mine. His jaw flexes as he speaks.
I see Ben walk away in my peripheral vision. I’m cast under the spell of Jason’s sea green gaze. I can’t look away from him, and I don’t want to. He leans in and kisses me again, and then drags his lips to my ear. “I love you,” he whispers.
“I love you, too.”
We enter the showroom, and I’m taken aback. Although the works of many artists are displayed here, Lydia’s sculptures are unmistakable. They stand out, not because of a particular technique or look, but because of the subject matter. All of Lydia’s sculptures are replicas of us—Jason, Kat, Ben, myself, Daniel…and Eileen.
We step closer and Jason squeezes my hand. I can only assume he’s as shocked as I am at the exact likenesses. The beauty of the way she views us is astonishing. A bust of Ben laughing, Kat looking off into the distance thoughtfully as she often does, Daniel gazing at Eileen who has her nose buried in a bouquet of lilies. The expressions on their faces are so life-like and so beautiful. I bring my hand to my mouth in awe as we walk through the hall, silently admiring Lydia’s phenomenal artwork. I feel Jason tug my arm toward him and my eyes fall on the likeness she has created of Jason and I.
It’s the largest of the four sculptures, capturing our bodies from head to knee. Lydia has sculpted us to look like mirror images of each other, in the same position but with different and distinct features. In the sculpture, I’m looking into Jason’s eyes and he’s looking into mine. Beneath our profiles, our hands are joined. As I look closer, I see she has not sculpted the details of our fingers. She has left the clay relatively untouched, so that it looks like we are connected at the wrist. It seems odd to me, and I look to Jason for clarity.
“Do you see?” he asks.
“See what?” I shake my head.
“Look.” He points his finger and traces the negative space between our bodies, beneath our connected hands. It’s the shape of a heart.
I smile at the sweetness of this—of the way that Lydia sees us—bound to one another by love. I feel a tap on my shoulder and turn to find Lydia. Jason embraces her and lifts her off the ground. The smile that spreads on his face is one of complete pride.
“Do you like it, Claire?” she asks.
“Like it? I can’t even begin to describe how stunning this is! It’s beautiful, and I’m so touched.” I pull her into an embrace.
“You’re not just a friend to me, Claire. You’re my family,” she whispers.
The emotional moment and the crowded room overwhelm me. I press the back of my hand to my forehead and feel the sweat that has risen on my skin. I grip onto Lydia’s arm to steady myself.
“Are you okay?” she asks. “Jay, I think she needs some air.”
Jason is at my side in an instant, and his arm is at my back. “Babe, are you okay? Do you feel sick? Are you having an attack?”
“No. No, I’m fine. I just—I need a minute.”
“Take her for a walk,” Lydia directs.
Jason takes my hands in his, and I follow him as he fights through the crowd and back out into the main hall. We sit down on a bench together and he brushes the hair from my face. He grabs my pills from my bag and hands one to me.
“Just relax,” he says in a soothing voice.
“I don’t know what happened. I haven’t had a panic attack in so long.”
“You must have just been blown away by my sister’s kick-ass sculpture of us. I know I was. All of them, really. She’s so fucking talented. Are you sure you’re okay now?”
“Yes. I’m a little thirsty, though.”
“I can fix that.” He stands and pulls me up off the bench. “Come.”
I follow him out of the hall and through a dark doorway. He leads me down a narrow corridor that doesn’t seem to be meant for the public. The dark gives way to light as we enter a small kitchen. He stops in the doorway and keeps me shielded behind him as he looks both ways. When he’s satisfied the coast is clear, he darts into the kitchen with me trailing behind him. My heels click against the linoleum floor as Jason grabs a bottle of something I can’t see and two champagne flutes. He deftly swerves around countertops and appliances until we approach a steel door, and before I know it, we’re outside in the crisp, October night.
He turns to me, and a grin spreads across his delicious face. “I want to show you something.”
We walk hand in hand and the wind moans through the streets. My heart pounds in my ears. After a long walk we arrive at Jason’s rehearsal space.
The main hall of the building is deserted. The usually sunlit windows look as if they are speckled with the orange glow from streetlamps. Views of the city have been replaced with our distorted reflections, the red of my dress and the white of Jason’s shirt contrast against the darkened windows.