by Kallysten
“Are you all right?” she murmured, sounding concerned. “Like I said, if you want to stop…”
Again, the offer hung between them. All Brad had to do was say a word, maybe even just give her a smile, and she would understand. His fingers tightened on the foil packet. He could delay now, and the next time, and the one after that until she tired of waiting and moved on without him. Or he could confront his pain and his fears and try to conquer them.
“I don’t want to stop,” he said as he rolled toward her.
He raised a hand to cup her cheek. When he drew her in for a kiss, he couldn’t miss the downward flicker of her eyes. He looked down as well and grimaced at his once-again failing cock.
“Despite proof to the contrary,” he said in a self-deprecating tone, “I really don’t. I—” And it felt wrong to say this here, in this bed, but he had to say it now, or he never might. “I love you. And I want to be with you. It’s just harder than I thought it would be.” Another look down at his lap, and he grinned apologetically. “Well, maybe ‘harder’ isn’t the best word anymore.”
Melissa didn’t react to his words. Her eyes were dark, the pupils wide as she stared at him, drawing him into her gaze. Her hand found his and their fingers linked together, with the condom wrapper trapped between their palms.
“I love you, too,” she whispered.
They moved toward each other. Until this moment each kiss had been easy and slow. Now their mouths clashed together, lips and noses mashed against each other, their tongues tangling as though each were trying to conquer the other.
Melissa pushed Brad onto his back, following the momentum so that she lay on top of him. She moved against him, her body sliding up and down as she continued to devour his mouth. Brad arched up against her and his cock reawakened once more, burning between their bodies.
In one fluid motion Melissa sat up astride Brad’s lap. Her eyes were twin wells of darkness when she looked down at him, her lips swollen from their kissing, her chest heaving with panting breaths. Brad’s heart skipped a beat at how gorgeous she looked. She was still holding his hand, and after a light squeeze, she let it go, taking the condom from him.
The wrapper made a quiet noise when she tore it open, but to Brad it sounded deafening. He watched her, caressing her thighs absentmindedly. Holding the condom in one hand she stroked his cock rapidly with the other, her tongue peeking between her lips. He bit down a moan at the touch, need surging through him. His cock hardened further in her hand, and she hummed quietly as she rolled the condom down to the root.
For a few seconds, her fist remained wrapped around him and he thought she would straddle him. His mind flashed back to just a few nights before he had lost Joan—the last time they had been together that way—and a pang of pain rang through him. Clutching Melissa’s hips, he pulled himself to a sitting position so he could kiss her throat.
His arms easily slid around her. He lifted her off him swiftly and laid her back onto the bed. He stretched out next to her, discovering that their bodies fit together like two pieces from a puzzle. Their mouths found each other first, the caress of lips now as easy as a smile. They embraced each other, arms wrapping, fingers caressing, each a mirror of the other. When Melissa slipped her leg over Brad’s, opening herself to him, the gesture felt effortless, as though they had done this a dozen, a hundred times before. Her hand dropped between their bodies, and with the lightest touch of her hand, she guided Brad’s cock inside her—guided him home.
Their mouths stilled against each other when he first slipped in, his passage eased by Melissa’s arousal. In the same instant they let out twin sighs of pleasure. Grinning at their mirrored reactions, they started moving against each other in minute slips and slides until they found a slow but steady rhythm together.
Melissa’s hand skimmed over Brad’s hip, leaving a trail of fire in her wake. She kneaded his ass, urging him on, and he was all too glad to oblige. He clutched her waist, keeping enough presence of mind to not raise a bruise, pulling back then pushing forward, striking her clit then sliding in deeper. A quiet moan passed her lips like a caress against Brad’s chin. She pushed back against him just as strongly and it was Brad’s turn to moan. He belatedly pressed his lips together, trying to keep quiet even as he and Melissa settled into a faster pace.
Without realizing what he was doing, he let go of her waist and slipped a hand between them, his fingers honing in on her clit. He froze as he found it, as another memory flash coursed through him, along with glimpse of Joan’s smile. He started pulling his hand back, fingertips burning as though he had touched glowing embers. Melissa stopped him with a touch to his arm and a whisper.
“Yes, go ahead. That feels good.”
Pushing away the memories and everything that accompanied them, Brad made himself look at Melissa. Shadows played over her face, but they couldn’t disguise who she was, or hide the need written all over her features, in the glimmer in her eyes, the curve of her lips, shiny as her tongue slid across them.
Her need for him, for the pleasure he was giving her.
Just like Brad’s desire was directed at the woman in his arms, not a memory.
He pressed his fingers against her clit, timing his movement with that of his hips. He wanted Melissa to feel good, as good as she was making him feel, tight around him, hot enough to burn him as she arched against him. Her skin was so soft, yet her nipples were two diamond points pressing against his chest, piercing him. They were reaching for his heart, it seemed, hidden behind the ice that had encased it for so long.
Their position restrained their movements, but it kept them close enough to share a heartbeat. As the intensity built, they jerked against each other without finesse or coordination, their bodies controlled by the primal urge to reach pleasure, together, now.
With a grunt, Brad pushed inside Melissa one last time, two fingers pressed hard against her clit. She shuddered against him and when her mouth opened to release a cry, he pressed his mouth to hers and swallowed every sound of pleasure she made.
His body trembling in the aftershock of his own orgasm, he continued to caress Melissa’s clit, causing more tremors to rock her while her body tightened around his softening cock.
Drawing her mouth away from his, she caught his wrist in a trembling hand and pulled it away from her.
“Too much,” she gasped. “Just…”
She didn’t finish, but wove her fingers with his, pulling their hands up to rest between them. As their bodies slowly cooled down and their breathing returned to a slower pace, they looked at each other. Brad still didn’t know what Melissa saw in him, but to him she was simply a beautiful woman, body and soul. He felt a little awed at having shared this moment with her.
“Thank you,” Brad tried to whisper, but the words came out as a croak.
Melissa’s lips curled into a wistful little smile and she shook her head on the pillow. “You don’t have anything to thank me for. Really.”
On the contrary, Brad thought, he had many reasons to be grateful, from her patience to her insistence to her gentleness and understanding… But if she didn’t want words, he could always thank her with actions; his light-as-air kiss brushed like a caress across her mouth.
Pulling back was an unfortunate necessity. While Melissa heaved a sigh of regret, Brad disposed of the condom in the trash bin wedged between the bed and the bedside table. When he turned back to her, he sat up to reach for the blanket folded at the foot of the bed and drew it up to cover both of them.
Eyes closed, she smiled at him and burrowed under the blanket. “Just gonna lie here for a little while,” she murmured. “Just a minute. Feel so good.”
Brad smiled in reply and caressed her cheek with his fingertips. Her face turned toward his hand and she made a small, contented sound. In moments, her breath was moving in the slow and regular pattern of sleep.
He should wake her
, he thought, watching her. Her lips were barely parted, and even with her face half in shadows from the dim light, pleasure still suffused her features. He should have woken her and driven her back home. That was what they had agreed to in the car.
However, even as he repeated to himself that he ought to wake her, he couldn’t manage it. She looked so peaceful, so beautiful… It couldn’t hurt to let her sleep for a little while. Could it?
As he continued to watch her, his own contentment started fading away, and little by little, icy waves of guilt and shame started rolling over him until cold was soaking him down to the bones and he couldn’t stop himself from shivering.
Now afraid to wake Melissa, he slipped out of bed and found pajamas and a t-shirt to slip on. When he turned back, for a mere second his eyes played a trick on him, showing him a different woman’s face on the pillow. His throat was tight and full, and when he tried to swallow it felt like razor blades were cutting him open from the inside out.
What had he done? How could he have betrayed Joan like this? And he had betrayed Melissa, too. After tonight, she would expect more from him, things he couldn’t give her, as was now becoming painfully obvious. He couldn’t even look at her anymore, afraid—no, terrified—that she might wake up and see his shame written all over him. What would she think if she saw that?
Brad also knew that he should have talked to his sons. He had planned to get them used to the idea that he and Melissa were more than friends before she spent the night. The problem was that he had no idea how to start that conversation with his boys. No idea either how they would react to the news. And now it was too late to carry out that plan too.
His heart thundering with shame and confusion, he stumbled out of the room, wincing at the noise he was making. He tried to be quieter on his way down to the kitchen.
The motion sensors turned the lights on when he stepped in. Hardly thinking about what he was doing, he opened the first cupboard and pulled out a glass. Next, he reached for the highest cupboard, the one above the fridge, where he had stacked what was left of his alcohol. He hadn’t touched any of it in a few months, but he had kept the bottles, ostensibly, for guests. He grabbed the first bottle his fingers found and pulled it out. Seconds later, he was filling his glass with what looked like molten gold and smelled to him of comfort.
As his heart began to calm, he considered the glass for a little while. The aroma rising from it was enough to make him salivate, and he could already savor the sweetness of it, the kick of the alcohol, the strong aftertaste on the back of his tongue. Numbness would come soon, followed by oblivion if he drank a second or third glass. Experience told him it wouldn’t take long at all, especially when it had been such a long time.
With a trembling hand, he lifted the glass to his nose, breathed in deeply then emptied it into the sink. Before he could change his mind, he picked up the bottle as well and drained it the same way. He chucked the bottle in the trash and rinsed the glass twice before he finally filled it with water and drank slowly. The faintest tang of alcohol lingered, or that might have been an effect of his imagination.
“Hey, Dad.”
Brad gave a start and whirled around, barely managing to hold on to the glass. Lost in his thoughts, he hadn’t heard Joey enter. Brad couldn’t have said if the wave of renewed guilt now sliding over him like slime was due to the alcohol he had almost sought comfort in or the woman he had brought home. Did Joey know about either thing? Brad couldn’t decide which would be worse.
“Hey. Why aren’t you in bed? It’s late.”
“I was thirsty, that’s all.” Even as Joey said this, he gave Brad’s glass a significant look.
“Just water, I promise,” tumbled from Brad’s lips.
Joey pinched his lips tightly as though trying to stop himself from commenting. Instead, he turned to the faucet to pour himself a glass of water and asked, “Did she leave already?”
Brad sat at the breakfast bar, his knees suddenly unsteady. His heart hammered in his chest. His mouth felt dry but he resisted the impulse to refill his glass.
“What?” he croaked. “Who are you talking about?”
Judging by the way Joey rolled his eyes, Brad knew his denial was less than convincing. He’d always been a terrible liar. Acting had been a little easier—or at least, play-acting with Joan had.
“Come on, Dad. I’m not an idiot. I know Melissa came over.”
Brad’s heart sank to the pit of his stomach, scorched by roiling waves of acid. This was why he had been so scared of bringing Melissa home. She had met his sons, and Brad knew they liked her, but it was all too early still. He should have talked to them, should have waited, should have been smarter.
“I’m sorry.” His hand clenched over his glass and he heartily wished it hadn’t been empty. He wished he hadn’t poured the scotch down the drain. He wished every decision he had taken since Joan’s death hadn’t felt like the wrong choice. “I didn’t mean—”
“It’s okay,” Joey interrupted him. “Mom…” He swallowed hard, and his throat clicked before he continued. “Mom wanted you to be happy.”
Brad’s lips curved into an automatic smile, but he felt no joy, no happiness. On the contrary, his heart was breaking all over again, right along the same old fracture lines.
“Son,” he started. “I…” But he didn’t even know what he wanted to say.
“No, Dad, listen.”
Joey sat down on the other side of the breakfast bar. He shifted on the stool, maybe trying to find a better position—or maybe delaying his next words. He took a sip of water before he started again. Even then, his gaze remained on the glass in front of him as though he couldn’t quite look at Brad.
“I never told you before because I didn’t know when to say it. I mean, there never seemed to be a good time. Maybe I should have told you when you introduced Melissa to us but I was so surprised, I didn’t think of it and—”
“It was too soon,” Brad mumbled, nodding to himself. “I should have realized that.”
“Dad.” Joey reached over the breakfast bar and rested his hand on top of Brad’s. He squeezed lightly and waited until Brad looked up and met his gaze before pulling it back. “I’m not saying it’s too soon. I’m not saying you did anything wrong. Just the opposite.” He took a deep breath and started again. “At the hospital, before… Before she died, Mom said… She asked me to tell you. She said it was okay for you to find someone else. That she wanted you to be happy.”
Joey finished in a whisper, his eyes downcast once more, unshed tears gleaming. Brad’s own vision became blurred and he choked up on the lump now blocking his throat.
“When… When did she say that?”
“Before you arrived.”
Brad closed his eyes. He remembered those frantic minutes driving across town, trying to get to the hospital as fast as he could without getting into an accident himself. Finding his sons hurt, one wearing a cast on his arm, the other a bandage on his cheek where he had been cut… It had been shattering. But walking into that white room, seeing Joan’s skin as pale as the sheet pulled up to her chin, the machines beeping louder than she breathed… The scent of her, of her soap and perfume, washed away by antiseptic and blood… The sudden realization that she was fading away, that she had only been waiting for him to say goodbye and let go…
She hadn’t been able to say a word to him, not with the oxygen mask over her face. But she had looked at him, and beyond the pain, recognition had flickered through her gaze. She had smiled too, her mouth hidden behind the mask, but the corners of her eyes crinkling like they always did. She had moved, or tried to; the sheet barely shifted over her hand on the mattress. Brad had uncovered it and tried not to wince at the abrasions on her skin. He had taken her hand between both of his, pressed a kiss to her knuckles, said her name…and she had passed away.
“Dad?”
Gentle p
ressure on his shoulder pulled him out of the memory etched forever in his mind and back to the present. He blinked several times until he could see Joey more clearly, standing at his side with a sad and worried expression.
“Dad, I miss her too. But it’s okay to move on. It doesn’t mean we love her any less.”
As he heard Joey unknowingly echo Melissa’s words, something finally broke inside Brad, toppling a wall he hadn’t even realized was there. All of a sudden, he could see two paths in front of him. One of them led to endless loneliness and maybe more of the drinking that had scared his children and friends so much a couple of years earlier. The other…
The other wasn’t as scary anymore as it had been only moments ago. It led to a new start. Not a start from scratch; he didn’t want to forget or erase anything that had come before this moment. But a start just the same, with the possibility of happiness shining on every step of the journey… The possibility of the kind of love he had thought he had lost forever when he had lost Joan.
This was his time to choose. The two paths were in front of him, and no one but he could take the first step. No counselor had ever been able to convince him to advance, and neither could his friends, his children, or even Melissa. But after hearing Joan’s blessing, that first step didn’t seem impossible anymore.
And neither did the ones after that.
“Thank you, son,” he murmured, choking up on a flood of emotions. “I… I needed to hear that.”
A flash of guilt lit up Joey’s eyes. “I should have told you earlier. I’m sorry, I—”
“No,” Brad cut in, as gently as he knew how. “You’ve got nothing to be sorry for. I wasn’t ready. If you had told me before, I…” He shook his head, unsure how to finish. “I wasn’t ready,” he repeated.
Joey observed him for a moment before asking, “And now you’re ready?”