Willow

 

“Where are all your underwear?” I asked, setting a tray of grapes and cheese on the coffee table in front of Conner. “I’ve done two loads, and haven’t come across so much as a pair of boxers.” Doing his laundry hadn’t been high on my list of things to keep me busy, but I found myself in the small wash-room, doing it anyway.

He shrugged. “Don’t have any.”

“You don’t have any?” Not bothering in the least to keep my eyes away from his package, I glanced down at the bulge in his sweat pants. “None?”

He chuckled, wiping moisture away from his eye, like I’d just sent him into a fit of laughter, performing the latest comic relief routine. “Nope.”

“Why are you laughing?” I picked the trash up from his last snack of peanut butter crackers. “What’s so funny about me asking if you have underwear? I mean normal people wear underwear, especially ones who, you know, have that much junk.” I nodded to his mid-section.

“I don’t like being constricted.” He grinned and shrugged, wincing at the movement in his shoulder.

“So, you don’t wear anything under your shorts when you’re fighting?” Not that I was looking there during his fights, but everything always appeared to be in place.

“I have to wear a cup when I fight.”

I smiled at his admission. So, he wore them sometimes. Glancing at my watch, I knew I needed to leave early to fight the morning traffic. “I have that interview to get to. Do you need anything before I go?”

“Already?”

“Yeah, because bills, you know?” I winked and grabbed my purse off the end table.

“Kiss me.”

I smiled and leaned down to give him what he wanted. I’d planned on doing it anyway, but I liked that he thought about it before I did.

 

***

 

I checked my phone as I pulled into the parking lot. I normally wasn’t nervous, but for some reason, I kept thinking I had the time wrong. As I walked inside, my gaze landed on an attractive brunette in a navy-blue dress that looked as if it costed more than a month’s rent.

“Thank you for meeting me at such a late notice. I had planned on coming to town next week, but those plans changed.” The middle-aged woman stuck her hand out for me to shake. “I’m Dana.” She took a seat across from me at our local coffee joint, pulling her laptop out of the case.

“Willow. And, it was no problem at all. Thank you for meeting with me.”

I had no idea what this freelance position entailed. The only information the ad had given suggested it was for a women’s magazine. For all I knew, it could be writing reviews for vibrators. And given that I’d used a total of one in my entire life, I wouldn’t consider myself qualified.

“I have seventy-five magazines that I contract for. No topics are off the table. So, if your writing is good, and I mean good,” she leveled me with a look, “then I’d sub-contract your piece for a certain amount of money. Each job pays different.”

“Is this something I can live off of?” I wasn’t sure how she’d take my question, but I needed a reliable source of income.

“Sure. If your writing capabilities are decent, that is. I have several writers who write for multiple magazines. It can be a lucrative career, but like I said, you must be good. People have to respond to your style. They need to be interested in what you have to say, or why you have a certain perspective on whatever topic you are writing about.”

“Okay, this sounds fun. What do I need to do to convince you to hire me?” No sense in beating around the bush. Plus, I could work from home? Count me in.

“I’ll give you three topics today. The directions are on the paper,” she said, handing me two copies, then promptly typing on her computer. “These need to be completed, edited, and submitted to me within two weeks. My contact information is at the top of the page.”

I glanced down at the paper:

 

Politics for Millennials

Diets that Actually Work

Boyfriends vs. Star Boys

 

Okay. These were subjects I could have an opinion on. But could I impress her with my bullshitting capabilities? Sure, why not. I could bullshit with the best of them, especially from behind a computer screen.

It was settled then. I’d go home and kill it.

No pressure.

I answered a few more questions, handed over my resume, and chatted about some of her favorite places to visit while she was in town. It was formal, but I didn’t mind. It was a job interview after all, and being able to get groceries next month would help keep me afloat. I finished my coffee as she politely advised me that she had another appointment.

 

***

 

The next three weeks passed quicker than normal because I was enjoying my job. I liked it so much, I found myself working longer than the eight hours Dana required. I hadn’t seen her since my interview, but she stayed in contact with me weekly through email. She seemed relatively easy-going, but distant. That was cool. I had enough friends, and Conner kept my mind occupied during my down time.

I’d been so caught up in my other job, I hadn’t realized what freedom could afford me in writing. I was shit at writing lengthy pieces, but as I got more experience, I learned short, colorful, opinionated works were my sweet spot. I had been forwarded a couple of emails praising my wit and ability to connect with the readers from the magazines. Those words of encouragement were huge for my confidence. I found, as time passed, I was getting more comfortable and poised, knowing that someone was listening to what I had to say.

“Conner!” I yelled from his living room.

“Back here,” he answered from his bedroom.

I stepped inside his room to find him taking clothes out of his top drawer and piling them on the floor. I knew him too well to assume he was spring cleaning. “What are you doing?”

“Making room for you.”

His words stopped me in my tracks. We’d never discussed making room for me. “For…?”

“If you ever need it, it’s there.” He shrugged, as he threw the clothes in his hand into the bottom drawer.

He wasn’t making a big deal out of it, so I decided not to either…on the outside. We had become relaxed around each other, but talking about the future hadn’t been something we’d done. He seemed okay with going day to day, and I was too.

“Sometimes, I really hate you,” I whispered as I ran my palm from his naked shoulder down to the center of his back. His muscles tightened at my touch. It was as if I had the secret code for unlocking pure delight in his body. Physically, he might have been considered intimidating to most people, but to me, he was perfect. I’d spent hours tracing every scar, every imperfection, trying to massage them into his skin so they’d disappear. Even though he didn’t know my intentions, he sighed and relaxed each time. His demeanor changed under my fingertips, and it made me feel like Houdini.

I took it upon myself to hook the sides of his shorts with my thumbs and pull them down slowly, so that he would get that I was in control. I kicked them aside once they reached his feet, and continued to massage his back. I placed both my palms on his shoulders and rubbed all the way down to his ass. His breathing picked up, and I reveled in the fact that he was so turned on by simple contact.

“I hate you too.” He turned so that we were facing each other. I stood a good foot shorter than he did. I kept my gaze on his stomach. I counted each ab, as I lightly scratched my nails across them. He tensed, muscles bulging and stretching across his tanned skin. I held my smile inside and continued my path. I was in love with his body. The shape of him brought out feelings inside me that I’d never felt.

His thickness aroused something inside me that I couldn’t nail down. Obviously, he was fit, but it seemed to me that I was attracted to how solid he was. The breadth of his shoulders reminded me of a bird’s wingspan. His arms were dense enough to pick up a refrigerator. His chest was full, and even though it was hard as steel, it was soft enough to make me feel safe when he engulfed me in a hug. His thighs were full and muscular. The dark curly hairs on them were perfectly proportioned, all the way down to his ankles.

I ran my hand down his right hip, pressing harder as I got to his thigh. His muscle flexed under my fingers, causing me to squeeze. I paused to look up at him. His body wasn’t the only thing that was tense. His heated observation pinned me, stopping me in my tracks. For someone who hadn’t said anything, his features spoke volumes.

I held my hand in place, while taking in the crease of his brow and his pursed lips. He didn’t like going slow. It was taking a lot of effort for him to hold back. Forcing him out of his comfort zone enthralled me. It made me want to make him wait forever.

“Patience, grasshopper.” I winked and continued my soft assault.

“I’m about to show you some patience.”

Normally, I would have laughed at him struggling, but I was too focused. Nothing could have broken my concentration in that moment. I wanted to bring him to his knees. Walking in on him doing something so caring had turned my insides to complete mush. It was like we were in a battle for who could do more for the other. He wanted to make me happy. I wanted to make him happy. I’d never been in a relationship so selfless. It was liberating.

Going to my knees, I traced the skin around his stomach, then down to his pubic bone. His length had grown twice its size. Desire shot through me, as I geared up to continue my attempt at creating a moment between us—one that neither of us had ever experienced. Not in the act itself, but in the crackle of fire that existed between us.

I’d never had this level of passion with anyone before. Attraction, sure. But not feeling like if I didn’t do everything I could to put a smile on his face, I would be failing him somehow. I wanted nothing but pure bliss in his mind as I showed him what a joke our mutual hatred for each other was. I loved him. I loved him as much as I loved myself, and that scared the shit out of me as much as it elated me.

Giving him all of me, I took him in my mouth and swirled my tongue.

“Damn, woman!” He groaned.

We’d spent the last three weeks talking and fooling around like a couple of teenagers, but never taking our physical relationship all the way. I knew he was waiting on me.

Well, I was ready.

Strong hands gripped the sides of my head, fingers thrusting through the strands of my hair, nearly ripping pieces out at the root. Pain fizzled into pleasure the wilder he got with his movements. I was driving him mad physically, and he was driving me insane emotionally. Like we were professional dancers, pushing and pulling like a perfect magnet, our movements complementing one another.

My heart fluttered as he pushed his hands under my armpits and lifted me so high, my stomach was level with his mouth. He walked steady to the bed, placing kisses on the patch of skin peeking out from my raised shirt. Heat flooded my body. As hot as I’d been while giving him pleasure, nothing compared to the thrilling sensation of his lips on my skin.

He grunted as he pulled my pants off, before tugging my shirt over my head. My bra lay haphazardly, causing my breasts to come out of the cups. With one hand, he reached behind me and unclasped the hook. His face was contorted, almost looking pained. There was something so poetic in his reactions. Like he was spilling his guts—his deepest thoughts—to me through visual expression. It was how he did most of his communication, and I’d gotten to know him so well, it worked for us.

His eyes softened as he took in my bare breasts. Leaning in slightly, he pulled one of them into his mouth. Bursts of color shot behind my eyelids. I couldn’t imagine anything feeling better than Conner kissing the life out of my body.

I was wrong.

Lifting his weight from me, he continued his path of feather-light kisses down my body. My stomach dipped of its own accord; my muscles were quite content on playing hide-and-seek from his tongue.

Bringing my knees up, I squeezed my legs around him, feeling like I would crack one of his ribs as he peppered kisses along the top of my pubic hair. He pulled my panties to the side and his tongue dipped into my center. I lifted my hips off the bed, searching for more, but he didn’t give it to me. I was melting right before his eyes.

Kissing my hip bone, Conner took one side of my panties into his mouth and tugged a few times, bringing one side down to my thigh. Then made his way back up to the other side, only to do the same thing. The whole time we’d been working our way up to making love, he’d taken control of the physical side of things, but had left the emotional part up to me. Even with his calculated movements, at every pause, I knew he was silently waiting for me to give consent.

And I gave it to him, with a fevered sigh of anticipation.

Growling, he discarded my panties behind him and climbed up my body, until we were lined up seamlessly. “You’re perfect.”

I grinned at his sweetness. “So are you.” I brought his cheek to my lips and placed a barely-there kiss at the bottom of his jaw. Feeling my way across his face, I traced his lips with my thumb, following its path blindly with my mouth.

He didn’t even break my concentration when he opened the side drawer for a condom. Within seconds, he prepared himself and thrust into me.

I gasped, as the tiniest pain shot from the exact spot where our bodies connected. It was gone as soon as I felt it, but it still surprised me a little. My legs relaxed, sweeping down the length of his legs, my toes sinking into every piece of skin they could reach.

“You okay?” he asked gruffly.

“Yes. Please don’t stop.” I reached behind me, grasping for anything that would anchor me. I didn’t want to risk losing any space between us.

He lifted my right leg, kissed my calf, then moved my leg directly in front of him. His hips resumed the pumping motion, but his face was curious—almost examining. A chill ran up my back as I watched him watch me, like he had to know what I felt in that position. Moments later, he brought my leg to the other side of his head and draped it over his shoulder.

I cried out with each movement, louder each time, experiencing unadulterated euphoria as our bodies melded so well together, I felt like we were one.

“I can’t get close enough to you.” He leaned forward, my leg the only thing stopping him from pressing into me completely.

At his words, my defenses shattered. Feeling like I was suffocating under the weight of my emotions, I attempted to quicken our pace from underneath him. I was in limbo, wanting our connection to never end, yet clawing to reach the top of an invisible mountain.

I pushed into him as hard as I could, trying to get all I could from the last moments. His body drilled into mine with such delicious force, I screamed out and let go of everything; a wave of ecstasy raced from my core to my limbs. He grunted and spasmed with his own release, sinking into me contentedly.

Silence fell around us like a blanket. It probably would have been awkward with anyone else, but with Conner, it was a moment of clarity. We were on the same page, neither of us confessing what we were feeling, but knowing without a doubt, the same thoughts and sentiments were buzzing through both of our minds, bodies, and souls at the same time.

When he rolled off me and to the side, I reached for him. Even though I hadn’t been able to breathe before, I didn’t want to lose the closeness. Snuggling up to his side, he caressed my shoulder. Goose bumps broke out over my skin, but I didn’t reach for the blanket. I basked in the chill, knowing he’d caused it.

“I think it’s fair to let you know that I’ve spent years trying to become who I want to be,” I whispered.

“We all do.”

I nodded. I had issues, but he had them to. I wanted to know his every secret, and what had kept him so strong during his stint in prison. I wanted him to know that I was a work in progress, but I’d never give up.

I bit my bottom lip and raised slightly, so I could look into his eyes. “Full disclosure?”

“Okay.”

“I’m not proud of most of the things I’ve done. I’ve made horrible decision after horrible decision. One of the reasons I’m here, in this town, is because I wanted to make a new start.”

“I get that.” He continued rubbing my shoulder, concentrating on a single spot. I was sure he didn’t realize he was even doing it.

“I let other people influence me, and broke my back to do anything I could to make them happy. I put anything and anyone before myself.”

“Happiness is an inside job.”

“It is. I’ve learned that since then, but—”

“I got you, babe. You can tell me the worst thing imaginable, and I’d still feel the same way about you. Nothing you could say will change that.”

I took a deep breath, then reached for the sheet and blanket at the end of his bed. Something inside me needed a shield. “Overdosing wasn’t what made me want to change my life. You know, when you live at the lowest level imaginable, it’s hard to see the top of that mountain. But rehab changed me. Therapy made me see what I had to lose. It literally took another human being to tell me how much I mattered before I believed it.”

I expected him to respond sooner. Instead, I watched his Adam’s apple bob up and down multiple times, as he swallowed the words he’d started to speak, over and over, yet never did. I feared my admission would change his perception of me. I knew from experience that even though no one ever wanted to be judgmental, sometimes as humans, we couldn’t help it. The only thing we ever had to go on was someone’s past, because we didn’t know the future yet.

“I promise that I’ll never let you feel that low again.” He kissed the side of my head. “As long as I’m breathing, you won’t ever feel worthless again.”

I smiled and sat up. I crossed my legs, readying myself for our not-so-pillow-talk.

He followed my lead and pressed his back to the headboard. The sheet just barely covered him. “I don’t think about it when I’m around you. The alcohol.”

As good as his words made me feel, I knew from experience that you couldn’t put your addiction in someone else’s hands. It could never be up to me, because he had free will. At any given moment, he could change his future, without so much as asking my opinion; and if he ever got into a vulnerable headspace, my opinion wouldn’t matter anyway. Addiction was selfish like that.

“I’m glad you’re not suffering. Have you ever thought about AA or therapy?”

“Nah. They had a program in prison, but…I don’t know.” He brought his arm up behind his head. “It wasn’t like people were there because they wanted to be, you know?”

I nodded in understanding. “Well, I’m here for you. Whatever you need, Conner.”

“Come here.” He leaned up and pulled me onto his lap. We both sat there, not speaking, but feeling each other. Listening to one another’s heart beats and shallow breaths. Both of us knew, no matter what came tomorrow, nothing could change how perfect tonight had been.