“I don’t need saving!” she screamed. “The only thing I need from you now—and ever again, mind you!—is to know the truth! I will ask you frankly now so you can no longer dance around the issue at hand. Why? Why did you do it? Why betray me now after all these years?”
Once again Greg turned his head and diverted his eyes from her gaze. There was a part of him that held fast to the decision he’d made. At the time he’d been desperate, frantic, willing to do anything in order to keep from losing her. His intentions were pure but his methods were questionable. More than questionable. His desperation had caused him to falter and that part of him was greatly ashamed. But he couldn’t change the past. He could only make sure that the course for the future was as smooth as possible.
He wanted to tell her the truth. He desperately wanted to tell her. But he hadn’t worked out how to deal with Brad yet, if there was even a way to deal with him. So for now he continued to fight against his wants, to fight against what he so desperately wanted to tell her, and so he said, “I only did it because Brad—”
“Is a liar?” She paused now and tightened her jaw with her arms crossed defensively in front of her. Then at last when she spoke again, she thrust a wild finger toward him. “I don’t believe that… and I can’t believe you. If he’s a liar, then why didn’t you just tell me? Why not tell me the truth instead of—”
“Because when I told him, I didn’t know that he was a liar. But that’s not why I told him anyway. Is that what you wanted to hear?” He swallowed with difficulty. “By the time I found out what he’d done, it was too late. I didn’t find out until after I visited you and you were already betrothed… and it was too late. You said so yourself that it was too late…”
“But you didn’t even try! You didn’t even try!” she spurted. “You didn’t even try…”
“You made me leave! You wouldn’t even let me try to talk to you about what had really happened!” he yelled as he pointed at her.
She flinched and he ran his hands through his hair before he continued.
“Do not speak to me of trying,” he forced out as his voice cracked. It was all becoming too much for him and his feelings and thoughts were beginning to break free.
“I have spent my whole life trying; trying to be close to you, trying to distance myself from you. Trying not to feel what I feel. Trying to understand it all… This duality… it’s a bloody nightmare, is what it is. But it is not because of a lack of trying! If there is one thing I have learned it’s that trying is a futile effort if both parties involved are not fully committed to the goal… None of those things ever stood a chance because no matter how I tried, no matter how I wanted to fight it, the only thing I have ever been fully committed to is you!”
Mary winced from the verbal sting, but quickly recovered as if she was defending some deep secret within herself. “Well, you sure have a fine way of showing that devotion!”
“You cannot even begin to imagine what I have sacrificed for my commitment to you!”
“No. No! You do not get to say that.” She pointed at him. “You sacrificed me!”
Greg was now the one wincing. “Mary, I know that I made a huge mistake but I am man enough to admit that to you. I was backed into a corner and instead of fighting and doing what was right, I let myself be blinded by urgency and desperation—”
“And instead of coming to me—me! Your closet and dearest and most beloved friend—and discussing whatever the hell it was that you were feeling that ‘backed you into a corner,’ you chose to betray me instead?” Her voice waivered. “In what scenario—in what world—does that make sense?”
“Oh, none of this makes sense. None of it at all. And if you think that you’re going to deduce some sort of logical explanation out of all of this then you’re more delusional than I am.”
“I’m delusional? I’m not the one who—”
But before she could finish her sentence more of his resistance broke and he reached out and caught her shoulders with two strong hands. She struggled against him for a moment but then reluctantly—but not so reluctantly, he sensed—she submitted.
“Tell me,” he growled as he moved his hand from her shoulder, to under her chin and softly rubbed his thumb across the line of her jaw bone. “Tell me that this doesn’t excite you.”
He ran his hand from her jaw down over her neck, and then delicately he traced the curve of her back, down lower and lower still. She was shivering, trembling in both body and spirit. He felt it. He fed on it.
“Tell me, that this doesn’t ignite something deep inside.”
His hand covered her backside and he pulled her firmly against his body. A small squeak broke free from her throat. She fought to hide it. He savored it.
“Tell me,” this time he purred the words into her ear, “that this is nothing. Tell me that you are not wet with anticipation. Tell me that you’re not starving, burning, needing…”
And he had gone too far.
In a sudden frenzy she pushed herself away from him with two firm hands. Her eyes said she was unwilling to consider what had just passed between them—what he said and what he knew she felt—but her eyes also said she had only just realized something. In this one moment she had finally found the last piece of a puzzle she didn’t even know she’d been trying to complete.
“You say you were desperate, scared—why were you desperate? What were you scared of? And what did you think to accomplish by telling Brad my secret? Did you—” She paused and took two deep breaths. “Did you think to scare him away?”
It was a tentative query. He could tell that she knew the answer but at the same time she did not. Like a word on the tip of her tongue that she was unable to remember how to say.
“We’re friends, yes, true and dear,” she continued on with a crisp punctuation of the words. “Kindred spirits until the end. And I’ve loved you and you’ve love me. But it’s not as if—”
Everything fell into place. It was all there so vividly now. In one swift moment, he saw complete understanding flood her. She could no longer ignore what had just happened moments before or what had been happening for years.
“Gregory Howard, what’s going on here? If you have ever cared for me, if you have ever—” she choked on the next word, “loved me… then tell me truth. As your best friend, your companion, I demand it! You tell me the truth!”
All at once it was finally too much for him to hold back, and he reacted powerfully. He grasped for her hungrily, ravaging, desperate to ease the ache of his famished soul. Pulling her into him, their faces mere inches apart, he exhaled slowly feeling the warmth of his breath pass out of him and then wash over her.
“What do you want me to say, Mary? Do you want me to say that I love you? That I’m in love with you? Do you want me to say that I’ve always loved you? That I’ve loved you since the very first moment I laid eyes on you? That you’re all I can ever think about? That you’re all I can ever remember thinking about?”
He shook her passionately and grasped her shoulders tighter. Her eyes watered as she fought the mental onslaught.
“Do you want me to say that your very being possesses me and that I ache with wanting you? Or that no woman will ever compare to you? And that even though I try to drown you out—God! How I have tried to drown you out!—you’re all I ever see?”
He shook her again as if the motion would somehow drive home the point and implant it firmly into her mind.
“Well I won’t do that! I can’t! I can’t because it wouldn’t be the truth! No words can describe this.” He twisted his fingers into her hair until they were so tightly entwined she trembled.
“Or this.” He pulled her head back slightly and kissed her on her neck.
Despite her efforts to fight it, her eyes rolled back slightly in satisfaction and then tears began to fall from her eyes.
Mary was crying now. Absolutely, bawling. Like a heart on a sleeve she was totally exposed, as big, fat drops of her soul spilled out of her. Sh
e was coming apart but it only served to make Greg grasp her tighter and pull her in closer.
“We’re the same, you and I. Our souls came from the same mold. You’re a part of me as I’m a part of you. My life, my breath, my heart, my soul! Without you I wouldn’t know who I truly am. Without you, I wouldn’t know what being whole feels like.” He cleared his throat to hide the break in his voice as he gently caressed her wet cheeks. “Without you I wouldn’t know what living feels like…”
He paused again, his strength of purpose and emotions growing steadily.
“No. I won’t tell you that I love you right now. I won’t say those words because they wouldn’t be the complete truth. To say them would be a lie by omission… Yearn. Desire. Need.” He stressed the last one. “I’ll say all of those things. I’ll say those to you now and every day for the rest of our lives. But love? Ha! I will not say that. That doesn’t even begin to explain it! That word is not strong enough!”
Mary finally spoke, with a small pleading voice. “Please try to explain it.”
“Nothing I could say will ever be able to describe this to you. Nothi—”
“Please. Please try….”
And he kissed her now as he’d wanted to do for so many years. But despite the rise of emotions that had preceded it—the longing, the intensity of connection, the surge of revelation and truth—he did not kiss her roughly or quickly. He did not press her to him with a tight hand as he’d done even moments before.
Instead he brought her in slowly, with a gentle touch, a soft brush of lips. He tasted her. He savored her. He took in every breath, every sigh, every delicate flavor of her, as he lightly tapped his tongue against her skin.
Yes, for this moment’s first kiss, he kissed her slowly. Purposely. Cautiously. Just in case she changed her mind, just in case she objected, he wanted to remember every instant of this wonderful moment.
But when she did not object… When she did not pull away…
Damn all the consequences! He decided then to take the chance. He decided then to kiss her again.
And this second kiss was much less yielding.
Her mouth was wet and soft and ready as he pressed his lips to hers. He licked at her fiercely, until she opened herself up to him and he darted his tongue inside. She welcomed him inside of her, warm and willing, and opened herself up further to accommodate him. Their tongues tangled together, his massaging hers, as she let out small whimpers of pleasure with each new tingling touch.
Years of desires were finally coming to fruition.
Years of questions were finally being answered with a strong embrace.
He wanted this. She wanted this. They wanted this.
They. The word resounded in his head.
He didn’t stop now and neither did she.
The third kiss blended into the fourth, and the fourth kiss blended into the fifth, until neither of them knew exactly how many it had been. Until neither of them cared.
When she threw her left leg up around his hip, he felt something change in her. She was becoming more comfortable, vulnerable. She was opening up. She was letting him in. And he relished it. He opened up to her too, ages of emotions pouring out. He filled her wants with his desires. He fed her ravished soul with his own.
With a firm hand, he caught her then, pulling her so close into him that for a moment he felt as if they were one being. Closer and closer he brought her in, her body willing and answering to his touch. With a swift spinning movement, he positioned her against the wall. He pressed against her. He gave her his body’s warmth and she accepted it with a tingling, shuddering, moan.
His fingers wound into her hair and she submitted deeper to him. Her lips parted further as well, slowly, but purposely, and just enough to ignite his passions brighter. Soon her tongue was in his mouth too, playing fiercely with his sensitive spots. The movement of his lips accelerated and she followed his lead.
Their motions were more in tune now, more intense and carefree. He began to trace his hand down her back with a tease and a tickle. The touches were strong and soft and voracious as he caressed her curves and excited her senses. With each new touch her body reacted; shakes, quivers, and things that dreams were made of.
Then something wonderful happened. Something that he’d always hoped and wished for and was fed by memories from the far away past. Something that he wanted to experience again more than anything in the world but until now had only been the stuff of dreams.
She reached out to him.
Until this moment she’d only reacted to his movements. Until this moment, she’d only responded to his actions. She had not pulled away or protested. She had not flinched at his touch, but until this moment she’d only followed his lead.
Now she was taking things into her own hands.
Quite literally.
She shivered as she began to explore his body and he wasn’t sure if the shivers were from pleasure or fear. He didn’t stop to question her. He just relaxed into it.
Her touch was light and tentative at first. The tips of her fingers barely grazed against him but they set off fireworks under his skin that recoiled back into her. She stroked his hair and his face. She tickled the responsive bits of his body with a light feather touch; exploring him thoroughly, leaving no place untouched. Her fingers danced. His body sang. And he was amazed at how well she knew his body.
Her hands held a secret knowledge of him. Each touch answered some hidden longing within him, some so deep that he hadn’t even known they existed until she fulfilled them. It was as if she’d always understood his soul and always would. And then there was something deeper. She didn’t merely understand his soul, she knew it intimately, as one knows their own soul. As if his soul was a part of hers and hers was a part of his.
As if it always had been.
But neither of them had known this. This age old connect was all secret and new. This connection, so it appeared, was hidden away for ages under lock and key, where it could foster and mature, only to finally emerge when the time was right. Apparently they weren’t ready for this connection in the past, the first time…
And so, for this reason, Greg found himself realizing that this was not how he ever imagined this scenario taking place. He’d dreamed of today, this encore, many, many times over the years. But he never imagined it would be as satisfying as it was turning out to be. He never imagined that he would be able to excite her as he was doing now.
He never imagined that they would know each other so much better now.
And that was it.
He was overtaken and he could stand it no more. He needed to have her. He needed to give himself to her.
He slid his arms underneath hers, clasping them behind her back, and in one motion she was off the ground. Soft hands clung to him causing him to shudder and stumble. She clung tightly to his body and kissed him as they wobbled and turned about.
Dancers in the dark. Souls on display.
A moan. A sigh. Thrusting, grasping, shuddering.
She kissed him again and gasped. He responded and set her down on his desk.
His hands left her only long enough to push everything off of his desk and onto the floor. Then they were on her again laying her down flat before him. Her skin was flushed with splotches of reds and pinks. Her lips were full from being kissed. Her dreamy eyes were far away with pleasure. He hiked up her skirt and positioned himself between her legs. The length of him was responding, growing, and he felt it push tightly against his breeches. He chanced it and pushed himself against her, testing her reaction. He locked his eyes with hers. She felt it and she was pleading with him.
Not quite yet. Not quite yet, he chanted in his mind.
The thumb of his right hand traced the hollow of her neck, round in a circle and then strayed down to the neckline of her dress. He toyed with the delicate fabric at the seam as he worked his thumb down to an elusive spot just under the fabric. The tips of his thumb circled and flicked and he felt the sensitive bud rise
up, responsive through the fabric. Her eyes rolled back and her plump, pink lips opened just so slightly as a soft and low moan purred out.
The fabric of her dress was in his way now and he decided to get rid of it. He slipped his hand just under the edge of the top seam and felt the fire coming off of her skin. Without the fabric in the way his right hand easily went back to the sensitive bud at her chest while his left hand moved up her thigh, stroking, caressing slowly, until it arrived at the soft place between her legs.
His earlier assumption had been correct: she was responsive and wet and welcoming. Each time he rolled her nipple between his fingers he felt her react down below. He savored in her body’s response to him and he savored in the pleasure he was giving her.
Putting his hand under her neckline had made things easier but now he was finding that even this was too cumbersome.
Too much fabric on her skin. Too much space between.
He knew he should lift her up, carefully remove her delicate dress and undo her stays, but in the end he decided against it. That would take too long, take too much time; and he would have to stop touching her skin. He would have to stop pleasuring her, ripening her desires and her wants. So, he did not take his hand off of her. Instead he continued to play with her, sliding his hand down under her left breast cupping it gently, and then in one movement popping it up out of her scandalously thin stays and above her neck line, setting it free.
She emitted a little squeak of shock, a small jolt, and for a moment he thought she might change her mind and push him again. But instead she sighed deeply with a throaty, pleasurable purr as her chest heaved up and down, up and down. He looked at her—really looked at her—and he brushed a stray lock of hair from her face to get a better view of her eyes.
Something wicked flashed in those blue—but not quite blue—eyes that he loved so much. Words rose in his throat but he stopped himself, afraid of breaking the spell they were both under. Neither of them had spoken, neither of them needed to. Their bodies were speaking to each other in a silent and secret language.
Wicked Game 02 - Something Wicked Page 17