Aged Fourteen
After that first kiss, it just got harder and harder each time he came home. I mean, who has a first kiss like that? There was no awkward nose bump, saliva leakage, or clash of teeth. I could even breathe perfectly well if he hadn’t stolen the air straight from my lungs with his delicious blend of tender and torrid. I didn’t sleep that night thinking about his perfect lips on mine. The rest of the summer holiday was a tortuous mix of burgeoning sexual temptation and normalcy.
I think the normal bits were worse.
I don’t have a mobile phone since my mother is some sort of technological puritan. We have a landline, and that is for emergencies. I am allowed a computer for schoolwork. However, the internet connection is so slow a carrier pigeon would’ve been more effective at reaching Cass during the school term. But even if I was allowed to call him, the time difference is a killer. We write letters to each other, and it isn’t nearly enough. I miss him. It is as simple and as complicated as that. I feel I can’t breathe properly until he is home, like a part of me is missing, the best part. I only really feel alive when we are together. What makes it only just bearable is that I know he feels the same.
It’s the school holidays just before my fifteenth birthday, and I’m in a particularly foul mood. My mother needs extra help opening up some of the rooms at the Hall. They have guests due to visit, and she doesn’t know how long they are staying, and I just don’t care. Cass isn’t one of them. I never thought it was possible for me to be any more of a stroppy teenager, but I am testing that assumption to its limits today.
“Good Lord, girl, could you be any slower? A glacier moves faster than you do. What’s got into you?” My mother is standing in the doorway, her hands on her hips, and her lips are pursed tight with obvious irritation. She gave me instructions to clean the solarium over an hour ago, and all I’ve managed to do is remove the dustsheets from all the furniture and dump them in a huge pile in the centre of the room.
I draw in a slow breath and bite my tongue. I try not to swear at my mother like some of the girls at school do; she doesn’t deserve my attitude. Only I have particular trouble playing the amenable daughter on account of the fact that this is very much her life, not mine, and being the Kruse’s skivvy is not my dream job.
“I will get it done, just leave me alone,” I mumble and pull the last dustsheet from the daybed near the grand ornamental fireplace.
“I was hoping you’d get more than this room done, Miss-I’m-too-good-to-clean,” she fires at me, and it smarts, her tone filled with anger.
“I never said I was too good to clean. I’m helping, aren’t I?”
“Begrudgingly.” She sniffs derisively, and I scowl, roughly screwing the large sheet into a tight bundle in my arms, clouds of dust billowing with every jerky fold of the material.
“I’m sorry I’m not ecstatic with my to-do list today, but please, let’s not misinterpret this as some great favour bestowed on us that you seem to think it is,” I snap and watch her jaw drop. I don’t think I’ve ever answered my mother back.
“There you go, Miss high and mighty. ” She tuts and rolls her eyes as if we’ve had this conversation a million times. We haven’t, there’s no point. We’re never going to see eye to eye on this subject. “If you only knew the half of it…oh never mind, perhaps it’s for the best, you don’t deserve-” She rarely finishes her cryptic rant and today is no exception. As much as the unanswered questions use to plague me. The outbursts happen so infrequently and however vague and venomous I don’t think she realises half of what she says most of the time.
She’s never answered my questions and afterwards, she always seems a little dazed, resignation hanging heavy from her slight frame. Worn weary by it all, I find I just don’t care enough to pursue the obtuse comments she drops like an anvil. I close my eyes when she continues to preach, wishing I could lose my ears too. “I love this job, and the fact that you look down your nose doesn’t exactly help. The Kruses have been very good to us.”
“Mrs Kruse gets her pound of flesh from you, Mum,” I snap and instantly regret it. I let out my breath slowly, trying to calm myself with each passing second. My voice softens because I know this argument is both energy-sapping and futile. “I’m sorry, Mum, I just don’t see it as the two-way street you do, and I never look down my nose. That is definitely Mrs Kruse’s prerogative.” I shrug and try to lighten my comment with a joking tone. It’s ineffective. She stiffens, and her voice has a harsh edge to it.
“Well, don’t think for a moment that young Atticus thinks any different, despite what he may have told you. They keep themselves to themselves when it comes to the important things like family or marriage.” She strikes hard and accurate. I feel the pain like a blade slicing through my flesh and bone, a direct hit.
“Jesus, Mother!” My hand grips the bundled sheet and pulls it tighter to my chest for protection. It’s too late, and for a second, the agony feels so real, I wonder if I look down, will there be blood seeping through, colouring the white with my crimson? My voice catches when I try to reply. “Thanks. Like I don’t know that. Like that hasn’t been on my mind since the day he told me he loved me!”
“He told you that?” Her voice softens, and that’s worse. I fight the prickle of tears at my lids and swallow down the sob that is stuck in my throat. I’m so desperate to hold myself together, to not break and be the foolish girl reflected in my mother’s sad eyes.
This is different. We’re different.
“Yes, when I was twelve and every day since.”
“I’m so sorry, Tia.” She walks up to me and falters when she is just an arm’s length away. She places her hand awkwardly on my shoulder as if touching me causes her pain. I know it does. I look so much like my father. Every day I am just a reminder that the love of her life abandoned her with me. Today, though, I’m strangely grateful for her distance, because anything else would break me. “He’s a good boy, Tia. Maybe he will be different.”
“You believe that?” I curse myself the instant I let the hopeful words leave my lips. I should’ve known better. I do know better. Her reply is still a sucker punch all the same.
“No, I don’t.” She doesn’t hold my gaze even as her words cut me open. There’s nothing there, no motherly love or comfort, just a hard life of hurt and betrayal colouring her worldview so much, she can’t bring herself to offer her only living relative some small amount of hope.
“What other room would you like me to do?” I turn away, cutting the conversation dead. It had pretty much died with her final nails, but just in case she wanted to add salt onto my gaping wound, I drop the sheet onto the mound and walk off to the adjoining room. She calls after me.
“Oh, the library needs a good clean. I understand whoever is coming likes to spend his days in the library.”
“Fine, if there’s nothing else, no other motherly words of comfort, I’ll get on.” I hear her quick steps on the polished hardwood floor scuttle to catch up to me. Her hand touches mine, but I pull it from her grasp, snatching it to my chest as though her touch scalds.
“No point lying to you, Tia. I could tell you all the things you think you want to hear, but what good does that do when it’s all lies?” She steps over to stand in front of me, and her tone is anything but harsh; it’s filled with kindness and heartfelt best intentions. “Despite what you think of me, I don’t want you broken, Tia. I want you strong. You need to be.” She tucks the long strands of hair falling across my face behind my ear and looks into my eyes. “This is my life, because it makes me happy, being in this house close to…” She hesitates and her voice catches, she physically shakes herself and her eyes soften for a moment as she takes in the grande room we are both standing in. It’s only for a moment but for that fraction of time she looks truly happy, whatever memory just flashed in her mind, that’s what I really I want to know.
“What? What was that mother? Why here? What’s so special about Tartarus Hall?”
“No, not the Hall, well yes the Hall but also…Oh Tia it just doesn’t matter now. This is my life, but I also had no choice. You do. All I’m saying is make sure it’s you who makes the decisions, and that you’re not waiting for someone to take that choice from you. Your time will come.” She turns away, leaving me a little speechless, confused, and a lot heartbroken, for her and maybe a little for me.
I still couldn’t tell where her loyalties lie, since she’s rarely taken my side in any altercation. On the many occasions Atticus and I got into trouble, she would hand me over on a sacrificial silver platter to Mrs Kruse. However, this rare moment of warmth has taken the wind and anger out of my sails. It’s the first time she’s said anything remotely protective. I walk back to the main bedroom suite and slump down in the heap of dust cloths. Emotionally drained to the point of exhaustion, I try to process her solemn words of wisdom.
I think the problem is that I know she’s right. I’ve had this deep-seated seed of doubt for so long I sometimes forget it’s there, festering. Every now and then, though, it throbs and claws at my insides, growing and demanding my attention. Cass and I, we have such different lives, and even if we are soul mates like he says, is that enough? It’s strange that, when he’s here, I have no doubts, no reservations, not a single one. I feel together we’re invincible, but that absence is so very hard. I can feel the tears trickle down my face, and I hate that I cave to these insecurities with absolutely no foundation, just because it’s so damn easy to believe the bad stuff. I close my eyes and rest my head in the sheets. The silence of the room cloaks me like a warm blanket, and the last thing I see is light refracting off the deepest crystal blue eyes in the world, so beautiful.
“Hey, princess.” His breath kisses the skin on my neck, and then I tingle from top to toe when his lips touch just below my ear.
“Cass,” I sigh, moaning, and stretch out, twisting so I am facing him, and he is half hovering above my prone body. A sleepy smile stretches my face wide to almost splitting in two. I can’t believe my eyes, so I reach up to touch his face. “You,” I whisper, and it’s his turn to mirror my face-splitting grin.
“Me.” His eyes search my face, taking everything in, and I can feel my cheeks get just a little hotter under his scrutiny. It’s possible my eyes are still swollen from crying myself to sleep, but it’s more likely the raw flush to my cheeks is causing the crinkle of curiosity to settle on his brow.
“It’s really you? I was just—” I stop myself too late, and his lips quirk with knowing amusement.
“Yes?” He shifts so his weight is pressing me down, and he is able to keep eye contact as I try to evade his inquisition.
“Nothing.” I shake my head vigorously, causing him to blurt out a deep throaty laugh.
“Oh, no, you don’t. Come on, Tia, what were you just then…hmm?” he goads, running his nose lightly either side of mine before planting a delicate kiss on the end.
“Shut up.”
“Tia, tell me, or I’ll guess.” He wiggles his brows wickedly, and I scrunch my eyes shut, willing the visual flashbacks of my dream to stop popping into my head and being so blatantly apparent on my mortified face.
“Oh, God,” I groan.
“Oh, I don’t think this conversation is one for Him, do you?” he teases and holds my gaze expectantly. I let out an exasperated breath and have to close my eyes again. Ground, swallow me now.
“Gah, I was dreaming about you,” I blurt and try to wriggle out from under him. He slips to the side of my body and pulls me flush against his much larger frame. His mouth is once again just below my neck. I shiver as a slew of goosebumps dance where his breath touches.
“I got that much. I want specifics. Your face is this adorable pink, which really only happens when I catch you staring at my—”
“Cass!” I cry out, and he buries his face in my hair, chuckling. He pulls back and finishes his sentence.
“Cock.”
“Oh, God!” I cover my eyes with my one free hand, but he picks it free and entwines his fingers, resting both our hands across my tummy.
“Really, Tia, let’s keep Him out of this. Now tell me exactly what I was doing to this sexy little body.” He rolls his hips gently against my bottom, and there is not an inch of him I can’t feel in my core.
“You’re not going to let this go, are you?”
“I’m really not, so come on, spill.” I draw in a fortifying breath, and as always, give Cass exactly what he demands.
“I dreamt it was my first time…you know.”
“Our first time, oh, yes, please. Now I really need to hear the details.” He kisses the back of my neck all along my hairline, and my mouth goes dry. I squeeze my thighs together, because right there I am just melting.
“Please don’t make me do this,” I plead on a breathy whisper.
“Tia, we won’t actually have sex until you’re legal, so the least we can do is tell each other how we imagine it will be.”
“Why? I mean, you know I want to, right?” I protest.
“Yes, my little love, I know that, but I’m eighteen, and you’re fifteen. That’s statutory rape. End of conversation,” he states flatly.
“But I wouldn’t—”
“I know, but it wouldn’t be up to you,” he interrupts my shocked reply.
“Who would know? I wouldn’t tell, and you wouldn’t tell, and unless there’s cameras—”
“No, no cameras, but it’s still a no, Tia. I won’t risk it. I won’t risk us. I can wait, and you can, too, but in the meantime, please continue with story time.” He softens the sting of his refusal with a series of warm and tempting kisses along my jaw to my lips. “It’s what I think about all the damn time. It would be nice to know what you dream it will be like.”
“Really?”
“Absolutely.” He’s emphatic in his tone, and that alone obliterates any trace of rejection.
“Okay, well, we were in the attic, and there’s a mass of cushions, like the fort we used to build, but piled together in the middle of the room,” I begin, snuggling back into his embrace.
“I can do that.”
“It was just a dream, Cass.”
“I know, but dreams are your subconscious wishes. So if I can make your wishes a reality, I will. Now continue.” I smile from the warm glow his words evoke inside me, radiating through every fibre and making my heart swell.
“It wasn’t dark, but the light was fading. There were maybe a hundred candles flickering, and the sunlight still managed to hit particles of dust; the whole room seemed to sparkle. It was magical. I wasn’t nervous, but my heart was beating hard, and you placed you hand right here to feel it.” I point to the bottom of the v on my sweater just above my heart. “I don’t remember what I was wearing, but you peeled the layers off, and I did the same. My fingers were moving so fast. You placed your hand over mine and told me there’s no rush. We both laughed. My laugh sounded more nervous than yours.” I turn to look up at him. He smiles wide and pulls me a little closer against his body. There’s not a millimetre of space between us. It’s perfect. He has one arm resting under my head, the other resting over my hip, his long fingers tracing the waistband of my jeans. He pops the first button, then the next until his hand is flat against my tummy. I’m acutely aware of his rock-hard erection pressing into the curve of my bottom. I swallow the lump in my throat and let out a whimper when his fingers stroke the edge of my panties.
“Carry on, Tia.” His voice is hoarse, deeper somehow from only a moment ago, and I take comfort in the fact that it sounds a little strained.
”Your hands were strong and sure, sweeping across my body, unhooking my bra, and then you…um, you had my breast in your hand.”
“Like this.”
“Oh, um, yes.” I puff out a cooling breath. I can’t help but arch into his touch. His hands are much larger than my soft round flesh in his palm. He squeezes gently and runs the pad of his thumb over my aching nipple. He can’t see, but my eyes roll to the heavens at the feel of him on me. It’s electric and sensual and all things delicious, and I want more. I want it all.
“Tia, what happened next?” His voice brings me back from my ultimate desire.
“You kissed me.”
“I like kissing you.”
“I like that, too. You kissed me for what felt like a lifetime.”
“I could live with that.” I can feel his lips smile against my neck, and I sigh out the words.
“So could I.”
“Then?” he asks, clearing his throat with a sharp, deep cough.
“We kept kissing, but your hands moved down my body, and you lifted me in your arms and carried me to the bed.”
“Mmm.” He rocks his hips, pulling me against him, and I’m so damn hot, I feel like I have liquid fire pumping through my veins.
“You laid me down and crawled up my body. God, I want you so much,” I groan, writhing against his body as much as I can at this angle.
“How much?”
“Heart and soul, Cass, remember?”
“Trust me, Tia, I’m never going to forget that,” he states with absolutely certainty.
I let out a strangled whimper and attempt to finish my tale. “I…I opened my legs, and you felt so good between them. I hooked my ankles high around your waist, and I could feel you.”
“Where?”
“I…I…”
“Here? Could you feel me here Tia?” With his question, his hand slides purposefully inside my panties, his bold fingers stroking along my soaking wet folds.
“Oh, oh Cass…yes, yes, please,” I beg, and short sharp breaths escape with each word.
“Shh, tell me what happened next.”
“You…you were inside me…Oh, God, Cass!” He slides two fingers inside me and pumps in and out, a perfect gentle rhythm that makes my toes curl. I can’t breathe. Bright sparks of light dart behind my tightly-squeezed lids as he ignites something primal inside of me, an explosion at the base of my spine that rips through me with such power and speed, I quake. Only his strong embrace has me tethered to this world as I float on another plane, his sensual touch tenderly guiding me back to earth.
“Cass?” I turn in his arms. His eyes are wide with wonder, and he has the most amazing smile illuminating his face. He steals my breath away all over again.
“Wow, that was pretty fucking amazing, Tia. My balls ache like a bitch, but that was so worth it, having you come on my fingers like that. It was incredible; you’re incredible.”
“Oh, um, do you want me to…um.”
“No, Tia, I mean my balls will still ache regardless. That problem will only be sated by one thing, and my right hand, or yours, for that matter, isn’t going to cut it. Besides, I’m trying to be good here, and I know for a fact I won’t be able to stop myself if your hands are on me like that. So distract me from that please, and tell me what happened next?”
“Next?” I hesitate, because I’m pretty sure that’s where the dream ended.
“Yeah.” His expression doesn’t reflect my thoughts, and then I remember.
“I cried.”
“You cried?” He smiles, and I get an icy chill up my spine from nowhere, and just as quickly it’s gone.
The back of his hand brushes my cheek, and his lips cover mine. It feels so good, I’d forget my name, let alone what the hell that was. I look into his eyes, hold the gaze as he holds me, and I whisper.
“You felt so good, Cass. I felt good, like I was whole, fixed. It was perfect.” I can feel the tears now, bursting before I can blink them back. He catches a trickle with his thumb, wiping the skin dry before sucking it into his mouth.
“Yes, perfect.” His voice is so low and gravelly I only know the words because I can read them on his lips. He’s perfect.