“I want to know as little about your little weekend jaunt as I have to. The less I know the less I have to conceal,” Jennifer exclaims as she heads out early on Friday.

Conner: Leaving Monterey

He should be here in an hour and a half. I nervously wait for the text that will announce he’s arrived.

Conner: Parking

I almost drop my phone from excitement, then I race down to meet him at the door. When I spot his large form heading up the sidewalk, my heart jumps, my face feels warm; I have to remind myself to breathe. The hard planes of his face soften when they land on me, which is very becoming, very becoming indeed.

For someone who prides themselves on always being cool, calm, and in control of any situation, I find myself holding onto the doorjamb to stay grounded. It’s the first time I’ve seen him dressed civilian. He’s a big guy, not fat. He’s lean and toned. He looks good, more than good, he looks fantastic, rugged and incredibly sexy. He’s wearing faded jeans and a fleece jacket. His eyes take everything in. I wonder if he’s as nervous as I am.

“Sorry we’re getting such a late start. I was hoping to get out earlier.” Is Conner’s greeting.

“But you’re here now. We need to go upstairs to get my stuff.”

My nerves are on volume ten as he follows me to my room. The air feels stilted, while at the same time electrified. I point to my two large bags.

“All that’s yours?” he exclaims in surprise. I nod as he picks them up. “You realize we’ll be back on Sunday. That’s two days from now.”

“I like to be prepared. Anyway, one bag’s mostly school work.”

“I think you packed more supplies than what an entire platoon would need.”

Relishing my feminine side, I grab my thick wool jacket and follow him down the stairs. We walk through the tree lined road to where he parked the truck. My nerves jingle. Is this from the proximity of Conner or the conflicted feelings of sneaking away with him?

“I’m glad they didn’t ticket you,” I comment as I see where he parked. My voice sounds foreign and shaky. Pull yourself together Olivia. If you can handle Rashad, you can handle Conner.

He opens the passenger door for me. We’ve yet to touch and have barely spoken. All my senses are on high alert as I watch him move around to the back where he stores my bags. The truck is a basic model, older, definitely not at all swanky like Rashad’s Mercedes, but it has a better feel, or is being with Conner that feels better?

As he takes off towards the freeway, my heart is beating so hard I wonder if he can hear it. My mouth feels dry, I reach into my hand bag and pull out my water bottle.

“We’re staying in a cottage in the middle of a vineyard,” Conner explains as we get on 280. “It comes with bikes. The owner says it’s a nice ride to Healdsburg.”

“I didn’t realize we’re going to Sonoma.”

“One of my instructors said Sonoma’s nicer, less traffic.”

“I’ve heard good things about Sonoma. This dark cab’s almost like being on the phone with you,” I nervously reply.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

“I’m taking Arabic poetry this quarter. It’s one of my electives.”

“I know, you read me that poem the other day.”

I slowly breathe in, then slowly let my breath out…relax. I repeat this activity three more times.

“Have you had a chance to explore any of the neo-classical Arabic poets, like Francis Marrash, Ahmad Shawqu or Hafiz Ibrahim?” I ask.

“No, not really, I doubt they’ll be needed for the type of conversations I’m going to be involved in over there,” his deep voice rumbles, the sound registers in my chest and rolls down my arms.

“I brought my books with me. There’re some other really wonderful poems. Maybe I’ll read some more to you.”

By the time we get to San Francisco our conversation has returned to its normal, easy pace.

“I’ve been stateside for a while, but still catch myself checking out the people on either side of the road,” he explains as he navigates the traffic on 19th avenue.

“Have you ever had PTSD?”

Of all the things we’ve discussed, I’ve never asked him that.

“Not everyone gets it. But that doesn’t mean I don’t find myself unconsciously performing behaviors that would save my life over there. Some actions become muscle memory. It reminds me of when I was a kid in Indiana. My grandfather taught me to start the car first, then clean off the ice and snow. Even in the desert, I found myself turning the ignition on first.”

“Are you scared about going back or are you looking forward to it?” I ask.

We’ve had this conversation before, but for some reason, I keep turning back to it. The thought of being in a lawless place fills me with fear. I find myself trying to figure out how you normalize constant uncertainty.

“I’m looking forward to it. It might be dangerous but it’s also interesting, and it gets my adrenalin going. In some ways being over there reminds me of when I played football in high school. I loved the game, everything about it, the strategy, the comradery, the discipline. I loved physically pushing myself to the limit. I loved practice… but games, they were the best. When I played in high school, I had to completely focus on that specific moment. I was really good at figuring out the field and anticipating what the other guys were going to do. I knew I could get injured. But I never thought about that. When I’m in the Middle East…it’s that same kind of intensity.”

He’s told me a number of times, he can never see himself at some desk job, or going back to Indiana to work on the family farm.

“Will you ever tell me what went down with you and Meredith? I know about your mom dying, about your dad knocking up your step mom. But what’s the issue with the two of you?”

He doesn’t respond.

Not at all.

Did I screw up the whole weekend? Why did I ask that? I stare out the window, afraid to say anything else.

“I failed her,” he says about twenty minutes later. “I promised to protect her. I promised we’d still be a family.”

“Conner, you were a kid. You weren’t given choices.”

“They moved me out of the house…but at school and on the weekends…I could have done more…and then I left. I was so self-absorbed. I only wanted out. I didn’t stay for her. She’s right to have issues with me. A few e-mails don’t make up for not being there.”

“At least you two are on the same page. That is your guilt matches her anger.”

“She’s angry at me?”

“It’s so much more complicated than that. But yes. She thinks you abandoned her when you moved to the farm.”

“I had no choice.”

“Conner, you two need to talk about it. Her adult brain knows you had no choice, but her emotional brain is still stuck at being a little girl, whose mom died, and big brother left her. Your adult brain knows you had no choice, but your big brother brain is guilty for not protecting her.”

“Where do I start?”

“Apologize.”

“But I didn’t do anything wrong.”

“This isn’t about right and wrong. It’s about getting over what happened to you. An apology will help your guilt and her anger. It will give you two a place from which to start rebuilding your relationship.”

Conner is quiet. I guess he’s had enough of my pop psychology.

When we reach Santa Rosa, Conner has me punch the address into my phone. It doesn’t take much longer before we get off the freeway at Healdsburg. We wind around a few streets; even in the dark, it’s obvious that the whole area is filled with grape vines. A few miles out of town we turn down a small private road. About a quarter mile down is a cottage. Conner pulls in front. The car lights shine onto the charming front porch.

My body buzz is back. My face feels hot…excitement rolls through me.

We each get out of the truck and walk up the path. Conner opens the mailbox and pulls out an envelope, slipping the key into his palm. He opens the front door and holds it wide for me. I run my hand along the wall to find the light switch. The air between us sizzles thick.

“I’ll get our things,” Conner volunteers.

I barely have a chance to look around when I hear the thud of him dropping both my bags and his backpack on the floor. The awkwardness feels like a wall separating the two of us. He clears his throat.

“Do you want to wash up?”

All my focus moves to his lips, the ones I’ve wanted to taste for way to long. I need to get this weekend back on track. I walk right up to Conner and run my hand from his shoulder down the front of his chest. He inhales a deep breath. My entire body quivers. I cup the back of his head as I rise up on my tip toes to reach his lips. We melt into each other.

 “Yes,” I whisper as I pull away. “I would like to wash up. When I get out of the bathroom, I’ll meet you in bed.”

His breathing intensifies as his chest rises and falls, his eyes penetrate mine. Confidently, I grab the handle on the bag I packed with clothes and head straight for the bathroom.

Once I close the door, I let out my breath. My face is flushed…from a kiss. I might only be twenty-one, but I’ve been dating since I was sixteen, and when I say dating I mean sleeping with men and when I say men, I mean boys around my age. Always, in every relationship, I’ve been in control. But with all my relationships I’ve never felt this. I feel like I’m spinning, spinning out of control, and it feels…amazing.

I take off my make-up, brush my teeth and strip down to my very sexy underwear that have been wasted, hiding under my clothes. I review myself in the mirror, plaster a smoldering look on my face, take a deep breath, before I strut out of the bathroom.

Conner is sitting on the side of the bed. His elbows are on his knees, he’s running his hands through his very short hair. He’s taken off his shoes and his jacket but he’s still wearing his T-shirt and jeans. As I enter, he tips his head up and stares.

“I thought you were going to get in bed,” I purr.

He gasps. His jaw drops as his eyes rake up and down my body.

“Do you need to use the bathroom?”

“Damn,” he gasps.

I walk up to him; run my fingers through his hair. His expression is startled, which is also soft, and very compelling.

Suddenly, he stands, picking me up in the process. Surprised, I let out a squeal. Damn, Jennifer’s the squealy one; I guess I’ve been living with her for too long. He pivots, placing me on the bed. With one quick movement, he reaches behind his head and pulls off his T-shirt. With another quick movement, he unbuttons his jeans and kicks them off.

He’s commando.

He leaps onto the bed landing with his hands next to my shoulders and his knees on either side of my hips. His face lingers inches from mine.

“Liv, you’re fucking beautiful,” he growls.

He dips his head down until our lips meet. His shoulders and arms are pure muscle. I stroke the cords that ripple down his arm. Our mouths collide as his tongue circles mine, lighting up my body.

I gasp.

My hands rake down his strong, well-built torso, enjoying the strength and size of his body. I wrap my leg around his waist, pulling him closer with my heels; I can feel his dick hard against me.

His hand runs down my torso exploring my curves.

“I’ve wanted you for so long, since the first time I saw you,” he murmurs.

“You’ve got me. I’m all yours.”

 “I’m going to devour you Liv,” he growls as he licks my neck up to my chin, then slowly blows a line of air over the moist skin.

I shiver as his energy ignites me.

His head moves down. My bra has a front clasp, which he quickly unlatches. He grasps my breasts, licking each nipple, then taking one in his mouth. He sucks so hard I gasp from the prickles it releases. He hungrily pulls and stretches my nipple between his teeth. Inching down lower, he runs his tongue down my stomach, stopping at my belly button’s piercing as he sucks it into his mouth. Then he licks my belly, again another soft blow. My stomach clenches, I gasp. Again he moves down lower, pulling down my panties and running his fingers along my landing strip. He parts my legs, his fingers explore between my folds as his head lowers farther. He sucks my clit between his teeth. I moan loudly, as he takes a firm hold of my thighs, pinning my quivering body with his elbows as his fingers explore deep and his tongue applies pressure. He works me hard.

As I start to fall apart, my back arches, and I throw back my head.

“More,” I yell.

And he gives me more, a lot more.

“Enough, I can’t take any more,” I scream out.

But he doesn’t’ stop.

He holds me in place.

I sit up, my eyes open and look down at his short blond hair and his mouth working me hard. He looks up, his navy blue eyes connect with mine. His mouth continues to work, as I gasp for breath. My legs shake uncontrollably as I grasped onto the covers. I reach down, running my shaking fingers through his bristle of hair.

 “Conner,” I scream. “I can’t take any more.”

He smiles, even though my clit’s still in his mouth. He applies just a little more pressure. I start paddling my arms through the covers as I try to get away. The sensations are too overwhelming as the orgasm comes crashing down in hard waves. My hips try to buck him off, as he holds me firmly to the bed. My body rolls from the orgasm, as I scream out he releases me.

I’m unable to move, unable to speak, as a series of waves run through me. Conner hovers over me and watches with a self-satisfied smile. My body convulses as a massive wave of buzzing vibrates up my spine. It takes minutes for me to come down.

 “Again? Can I join you this time?” he murmurs.

I roll my thumb over his lips. I’m not sure if my sensory system can take any more, but then again, how can I have an amazing O and not let him have one too. Conner’s eyes get deep. He breaks away from me, moving quickly to the floor he pulls a condom out of the back pocket of his jeans. He’s back on the bed, up on his knees, hovering over me as he rolls it on. I look up at this massive man towering over me. He looks powerful, strong, my own personal Adonis. He gets back on all fours, centering himself over me.

“I’ve wanted you for so long. I’m really going to enjoy this.”

“Yeah, I’ve wanted you too.”

He runs his dick over my folds a couple of times. Then he centers himself and pushes in. I gasp from a quick shot of pain. But I want him, hard, fast, and deep. He starts rocking in and out. I run my hand down his chest. Then grasp tightly onto his shoulders as the pace of his rocking increases.

My already sensitized body is quaking from the friction. I gasp and moan with each thrust. When he’s totally inside of me, he grabs my leg, and twists me so I’m on my stomach. Holding my hips, he thrusts even harder and moves even faster. As the energy builds, I scream from the overwhelming sensations. He grabs me across my chest, with both hands on my breasts, and pulls me tight to his chest. He pounds into me, chest to back. My whole body’s shaking, as another orgasm rolls through me. The vibrations from his deep grunts resonate in my ear.

When I begin to wonder if there will be anything left of me, he finally relaxes. We remain like a statue for a few minutes, him on his knees, holding me with my back to his chest, while I’m still impaled on his dick.

Our breathing is hard, both of us are perspiring, his dick turns flaccid. As it leaves me, he lowers me to the bed. I’m a puddle of mush, even as I continue to quake from this overwhelming experience.

Conner throws back the cover and rolls me in between the clean sheets. He watches me, eventually he runs a finger down my arm. To my over sensitized skin his touch feels like fire.

“No more,” I moan out. “I can’t take any more.”

He turns off the light.

“That was better than what I imagined,” he purrs into my ear.

“I could never have imagined that. I don’t even think that was an orgasm. There has to be a word for it, but nothing I’ve ever experienced would fit that word.”

My body’s still buzzing as I listen to his breathing change as he falls asleep.