by Jewel E. Ann
Our last stop was in Rodellar, Northern Spain, for sport climbing. Quinn loved to rock climb and I did too. He and Zach had been climbing for years all over the world. I wasn’t nearly as experienced but it didn’t matter. We had to finish making amends before we headed back to New York, and burning off energy on an amazing crag was our remedy. Fall was the best time to climb in Rodellar, but we were fortunate enough to find plenty of crisp dry routes. We beat the summer crowd so it felt as though we were alone with just the vast wildlife and breathtaking views. Rodellar, a little town atop a limestone gorge with a lovely green river running below, was a climber’s haven.
I was surprised and equally excited to find out that Quinn had never climbed there. We were sharing a first for both of us and it felt even more perfect that we ended up there alone, like a pre-wedding honeymoon.
We flew into Zaragoza, rented a black Mercedes-Benz ML350, and stocked up on food before we headed to the little village of Rodellar. We abandoned our five-star hotel status for a small two bedroom cottage with one bath and a small kitchen. I was in my element: simple, cheap, and über casual. I think everything packed for our stay either had a rip or hole in it. To my complete shock and awe, Quinn’s attire was much the same. I hardly recognized him when we changed clothes after arriving our first day.
“Well for the love of all things scruffy, where did my permanent pressed, anal retentive, GQ fiancé go?” I mused when Quinn came out of the bedroom in cargos and a T-shirt that must have dated back to his college days or before. It was paper thin and wrinkled, like it had been wadded in the corner of his suitcase, or more likely mine. He was already scruffy in the face before we arrived, and I wondered if he would shave at all while we were there or if he’d leave with a full beard.
Looking down at his clothes he smiled. “I know, I look like … you.” Then he poked me in the side making me jump before he bear-hugged me and threw us both onto the couch as I squealed in delight.
“You’ve never looked better,” I quipped.
He rubbed his scratchy face over my neck and cheeks.
“Stop!” I yelled. “Seriously, where did you get these clothes? I cannot believe they came from our condo.”
“I keep them in a special spot, for occasions such as this.”
I laughed. “Occasions such as what? When you want to fit in with the town folk? Do you have a secret chest labeled incognito that you keep these clothes in?”
“Something like that.” His hands went to work on my khaki capris that had a pink and green checkered patch on the back pocket covering a rip I had in them.
“I thought we were going to check things out?” I managed to say between kisses.
He grabbed the hem of my shirt and pulled it over my head before tossing it behind the sofa. He nuzzled his face into the exposed part of my breasts. “What do you think I’m doing?”
I grabbed his hair and pulled until he was forced to look up at me.
“Checking me out?” I asked with raised eyebrows. He just smiled.
My eyes fell to his lip. It was no longer swollen but the cut hadn’t completely healed and the skin around it was still tinged with hues of purple and yellow. I brushed the pad of my thumb over it. He moved his head enough to suck my thumb into his mouth and playfully bit at it with his sexy grin still enticing me.
He scooted off of me onto his knees then slid my already unbuttoned capris down my legs. He stopped when he noticed I wasn’t wearing anything under them. The look on his face was heated but filled with appreciation. Before he could say anything I offered an explanation.
“I only have three pair of clean underwear left so I’m being frugal.”
He let my pants drop to the floor and ripped off his shirt. Then skimming one hand up my leg, he teased my sex with just his thumb while his other hand expertly unhooked my bra in the back.
“Frugality is one of the qualities I admire most about you, baby.”
“You’re full of it,” I said as I willingly removed my arms from my bra straps.
He clenched his hands in my hair and pulled me into his eager lips. Our tongues tangled together, taking and giving in an erotic dance. My nipples were pebbled out and my core was wet and ready.
I reached for his shorts and hooked my fingers in his belt loops, pulling him closer so I could unbutton his pants. He broke our kiss and looked down, watching my fingers deftly working his buttons and zipper. I remembered back to a time when my shaky hands lost all dexterity in his presence. I had gained a new confidence because of Quinn. I didn’t shake around him and I wasn’t as nervous when he watched me. It was arousing to watch him watch me take off his clothes.
I pushed down his shorts and briefs together. We both watched his erection spring free. Wrapping my hand around him, I slowly stroked his hard cock. He closed his eyes and his breathing became more erratic. When I closed my mouth around his firm length, he let out a guttural moan. I continued to work my mouth around the top while one hand stroked below and my other hand clenched his hard butt. I loved the gentle ripple of his muscles as they contracted and released in a controlled rhythm.
He eased me back on the couch and moved his hips farther between my legs until his erection teased my entrance. Holding it firm in his hand, he rubbed the tip of it from my entrance up to my clit, over and over. My hips started to thrust to his, my body begging for him to sink into me. I leaned up and grabbed the back of his legs and tried to pull him into me.
“Now, Quinn, I need you in me,” I begged.
Sliding his hands under me, he clenched my butt and pulled my pelvis up at the same time he sank into me. The intense pressure of him completely filling me elicited a cry of his name from my lips.
“God, Addy, you’re so fucking beautiful,” he breathed just before he started working into a slow, deep pace.
*
We lay sated wrapped in each other’s arms, drifting in and out of sleep.
“Why are you marrying me?” he asked in a soft voice.
“Because you asked me.”
“So you’ll do anything I want, all I have to do is ask?”
“Sure, in your dreams.” I smiled. “The real question is why do you want to marry me?”
“You’re it for me. You’re my forever. I want us to belong to only each other.”
“Well, I hate to shatter your fairytale dreams, but marriage doesn’t mean forever.” I chuckled sarcastically.
“Would you stay with me forever if we never married?”
I thought for a moment about his question, and I knew the answer but it wasn’t so simple. “I’m going to be with you for however long I’m going to be with you, regardless of whether or not we’re married. I don’t want to belong to you, I want to belong with you. I don’t need a paper certificate that makes it hard to leave; I need a love that makes it easy to stay.”
He gave me a shocked look. “Wow, what planet are you from again?” He laughed.
“Planet Awesome, babe, Planet Awesome.”
“You don’t have dreams of a big wedding, the dress, bridal showers, flower girls, a first dance, a honeymoon, babies, birthday parties, teaching a child to ride a bike or watching them score their first goal?”
Deep breath … I am peaceful, I am strong
“Is that your dream?” I deflected.
“I’m not sure. I never cared to dream about anything other than money and success, that is until I met you.”
I rolled over to face him. “And now?”
“And now … I want you.” He kissed me and I couldn’t imagine ever being in the arms of another man.
“Well, then it’s your lucky day because at the moment you have me …” I gestured to my naked body “ …all of me.”
He twisted the ring on my finger back and forth. “You don’t want to be my wife?”
“Well honestly it seems like a step down from the love of your life.” My face distorted into a dramatic cringe. “Seriously, synonyms to wife can be things like old lady and the old ball
and chain.”
“True, but so is significant other, better half, soul mate, and love of my life.”
He had a such a gift for saying the right thing at the right time. “I’ll marry you, Quinten Lucas Cohen, just tell me when and where. Look for me, I’ll be the one in the white gown and veil.”
“Cheeky little thing, aren’t you?”
“Cheeky? Is my Latin lover turning into a British bloke?” I teased. “I’m good with either accent.”
“You like my accent, huh?”
“Mmm, hmm.” I nuzzled his neck. “Now, let’s get you incognito again and check out the town folk and breathtaking scenery then we’ll come back and throw together some grub.”
“I’d tell you to lead the way but I’m pretty sure I’ll be the one leading the way.”
I fastened my bra and grabbed my pants. “How so?”
He stared at my capris as I zipped and buttoned them. “The thought of you sans panties under those is going to have me looking like a blind man with my long stick leading the way through the village.”
His goofy comment caught me off guard so my laugh came out as a snort eliciting a chuckle from him.
“Would you prefer I wear granny panties and a moo moo dress?”
“In public? Yes,” he deadpanned.
*
There was great climbing on both sides of the gorge. We planned on staying four days so we opted to sleep in and climb in the afternoons. I had never climbed anywhere that even came close to Rodellar. It had everything: slabs, pinnacles, arches, and overhanging caves. It was all stamina climbing and Quinn was in climber’s paradise. He knew we would be climbing. I had to confess that much ahead so he would pack his gear, and boy did he have a lot of gear. His gift to me, and all other female climbers we met, was his simple climbing attire: shorts and climbing shoes.
I opted for my prAna climbing knickers and a yoga top with crisscross racerback straps. I hadn’t worn my climbing shoes in awhile, and as I clipped them to my backpack my feet started to hurt just thinking about being shoved into them. We finished gearing up and got ready to start our approach.
“Where’s your helmet?” I asked him.
“At home. I didn’t figure we were ice climbing.”
“Helmets aren’t just for ice climbing, you fool.” I shook my head at him.
“I’ve never worn a helmet for sport climbing and look, I’m still here,” he mocked.
“Whatever.” I slung my backpack over my shoulder and started trekking up the trail to our first climb.
“You’re not upset that I’m not wearing a helmet, are you?” he asked. His look was a little condescending, as if it would have been ridiculous to be concerned with his safety.
“Nope, it’s your choice. Not everyone has a brain like mine to protect,” I giggled.
“Ha ha, I’m sure you’re right. If you sustained a head injury it could knock your IQ down to mine, then what would we be?”
“Two idiots in love,” I quipped, grabbing his hand to stop him before stretching up to plant a kiss on his full red lips.
A while later we finished our approach which was a feat all on it’s own.
“Looks like a nice one for you.” Quinn squinted his eyes looking up the massive limestone crag.
“You think? I don’t know but I’ll give it a go.”
Quinn climbed first, leading the route by attaching quickdraws to the bolted anchors up the face of the rock. After securing one quickdraw he clipped the rope through and climbed to the next. After he made it to the top, I lowered him down and took my turn. I followed on the rope that he had secured all the way up the crag to a double anchor at the top. On my descent I “cleaned up the route,” essentially removing our equipment one clip at a time while I repelled down. When my feet reached the ground, he grabbed me and pulled me into him, kissing me so hard it felt like my teeth were cutting into my lips.
“Whoa, what was that for?” I managed between breaths.
“For bringing me here, for being so adventurous, and for looking like sex on a rope up there.”
I laughed at his enthusiasm. “Down killer, you need to keep your head in the game. This isn’t exactly child’s play we’re doing up here.”
“No worries, I’d never let anything happen to you,” he oozed with confidence.
We navigated our way to a nice pitch Quinn was dying to try.
“Am I your first?” I questioned.
“First what?” he countered back.
“Am I the first girl you’ve taken climbing?”
“Well technically you’re taking me climbing, but yes, you are the first girl I’ve climbed with.” He grabbed his water taking a long gulp then wiped his mouth on his arm. “Most girls I’ve … been with haven’t had much interest in anything but—”
“Sex,” I interrupted.
“I was going to say shopping and partying, but sex too, I suppose.” He stopped and dropped his backpack. “This one …” He looked at the huge arch over us.
“It looks like a good project.”
“Project? A thousand dollars says I flash it.” He checked his gear and tied in.
“A thousand dollars for making it to the top without coming off? A little steep don’t you think?”
“You’d better be talking about what I’m about to climb and not the wager, my billionaire beauty.” He slapped me on the butt.
I checked his knot and he looked over my belay set up. I loved watching Quinn climb, and it wasn’t just about his body. Although a video of him climbing without his shirt and sweat dripping off his taut muscles was my type of porn. It was his skill and ease of movement that mesmerized me the most. It was his happy, carefree attitude he had as he made every move look so effortless. That was the Quinn I said “yes” to when he proposed.
“Belay?” Quinn asked as he chalked up.
“Belay on, climb on my hot, sweaty, Latin lover.”
He gave me a slight sideways glance, but I could see the smile on his face. Once he secured his first clip he started his small talk, which I noticed was his norm until he made it to the crux.
“How long has it been since you’ve climbed?” he hollered down.
“Maybe a year or so since I’ve climbed outdoors. Since then, I’ve occasionally gone to the climbing gym in Milwaukee with Mac and Evan.”
Evan was a great climber and Mac never wanted to climb with me, but when Evan suggested it she acted like it was the best idea ever. She had yet to try anything outdoors, but I knew Evan would have her halfway up a mountain someday.
Quinn was making the difficult route look easy. He had one more vertical clip before he reached the horizontal traverse across the top of the arch.
“Am I the first guy you’ve climbed with other than Evan?” he yelled.
“Nope.”
“Guy number one?” he questioned.
I don’t know why I didn’t just tell him Malcolm’s name; guy number one sounded weird.
I gave Quinn more slack in the rope as he prepared to clip again.
“Yes, we climbed a lot before we got marri—” I about swallowed my tongue, I couldn’t believe I let even part of the word slip out of my mouth.
That fraction of a moment in time changed everything, like lightening striking or pulling the trigger of a gun. There was no turning back and no time to react. The next thing I remembered was my whole body jerking off the ground as I braked the rope. A split second later I heard an agonizingly painful cry from Quinn. My pulse raced from the flood of adrenaline through my veins.
When a lead climber falls, the belayer pulls the rope into brake position preventing anymore rope from being fed to the climber. The climber falls until all the slack in the rope is gone. The force of the fall pulls the belayer off the ground a few feet when the climber’s descent is stopped. Both the climber and belayer are supposed to keep their feet in front of them to keep their bodies from hitting the rock. I braked the rope and I kept my feet in front of me as my body was lifted from the grou
nd. Having followed protocol for belaying a lead climber, I was fine. Quinn was not.
He was an experienced climber, he knew how to fall properly. What happened? I slowly released some of the tension on the rope until my feet reached the ground. The piercing anxiety strangled my heart. With each inch of movement Quinn moaned in agony.
“Quinn?” My shaky voice broke as I called to him. He didn’t answer.
“Quinn, can you hear me? Are you okay?” He still didn’t answer. I could see one of his arms was wrapped over his stomach as the other held the rope. Tears blurred my vision. No! No! No!
“I’m going to slowly bring you down.” I yelled to him. With trembling hands I fed the rope an inch at a time. I had to dig deep to stay focused. He was injured but I had no idea to what extent. His inability to say anything left me feeling helpless and vulnerable.
Deep breath … I am peaceful, I am strong.
A few drips sounded next to me, then I noticed drops of liquid on the rock beside me as I lowered him closer to the ground. Blood.
“Quinn!” I screamed as I fought to keep my nervous hands from releasing the rope too quickly. “Oh my God, Quinn!” I sobbed in aching desperation as I eased his limp body onto the ground. My body shook as I tried to assess his injuries.
His weak eyes found mine. The pain in them was unbearable. “Addy,” he strained.
His left arm and complete left side of his body was bloodied.
“No, Quinn. You’re go—going to be f—f—f––fine,” I choked out. I grabbed a T-shirt out of my bag and my emergency kit. I dumped cayenne pepper all over his wounded areas. I had read a book written by an herbalist about the miracles of cayenne pepper’s stabilizing effect on bleeding and aid in clotting. I had used it numerous times on my own cuts, including some that would have required stitches, and each time the bleeding slowed or stopped within minutes. I knew Quinn’s injuries were far worse than anything I had ever experienced, but I had to buy him some time. After I finished applying it externally, I added it to his water and made him drink a few swallows. He was weak and it was difficult to get it down but he managed.
“I love you … I love you so mu––much.” Cradling his face in my hands, I sobbed.