THERE WAS A PART OF ME that wished David would tell me he was done and put an end to this. Then I wouldn’t have to ride this rollercoaster of emotions every day. Despite what he might have thought, none of it was a game to me. I felt overwhelming guilt that I was hurting both Bill and David. That I was standing in the way of both their versions of home.
Why did I keep returning to this ridiculous concept of home? Is it not enough to have love and be happy? At thirteen years old, my home had broken in half in one fell swoop, and I’d never found that sense of belonging, that sense of security again. What was it about David that had me longing for that?
Bill was the only future I had ever known. He was supposed to be my rock, my love, my life. I wondered if knowing he was supposed to be all those things was still enough. Would I have eventually realized my doubts even if David hadn’t come along?
Do I have doubts?
I blinked from my daze to find I was glued to the same spot. The voices in the penthouse suite faded away. I looked across the roof at David’s almost invisible silhouette. The ache to be next to him was deep. To feel his hardness through the softness of his cashmere sweater, to rescue him from disappearing into the black horizon.
I clenched my hand around the beer bottle, fighting against what threatened to devour me. Did I even have a choice? It felt so much bigger than me, this thing. I wanted to bask in his warmth, feel his mouth on my neck; I wanted to see him gaze at me again like I was the only girl he couldn’t resist. Because he was that person for me. Of all the men I’d dated, and, ashamedly, that included Bill, David was the one who I felt in my core, as though I only existed as an extension of him. I wanted to fall just so he could catch me.
I set my beer down and walked to the edge purposefully. With each click of my heel, my mind chanted mistake, mistake, mistake, but my heart . . . .
He stood unresponsive with his back to me and his hands in his pockets. I stopped and took a deep breath before slipping my arms around his stomach. My cheek pressed against his back.
He inhaled sharply, but after a second, said, “Don’t.”
“I can’t not,” I whispered back.
He put his hands over mine and squeezed them hard before removing them. I didn’t fight him, though I wanted to. After a long moment, I backed away. My hand curled into a fist over my thumping heart. I longed for him with my whole being; I had never wanted anything more than to feel him now. But it couldn’t be. There was a wall between us. I told myself over and over that it couldn’t be, that it was a mistake, that the day would come when not being able to touch him wouldn’t hurt so bad . . . .
I turned and left, focusing on anything but the sting in my chest. My whole body flinched when he hurled an angry, thunderous curse into the night; but I didn’t turn around. At the exit, my hand gripped the handle. I rested my forehead against the door and breathed. My body was turning against me, the longing both physical and painful. In that moment, I wanted to give it all up just to feel him one more time.
I jerked away from the door when swift footsteps echoed behind me. My chest constricted. It was seconds before I felt that familiar heat on my back. I swallowed dryly, staring at the handle and willing my feet to walk out the door. David’s arm curled around me, and his hand rested on the lock. I closed my eyes. The deadbolt slid into place with a deafening click.
“Turn,” he demanded. “Look at me.”
My body obeyed on its own, as did my eyes. He slipped cold hands underneath my hair and grasped the nape of my neck. You are my escape, I said without words. And everything will be all right. In his arms, nothing could touch me; not fear, pain, monsters under the bed, attackers in the alley, the judgments of others.
He found my impatient, wet lips with his and calmed them with a sweet, close-mouthed kiss. I felt his tongue, coaxing my lips open gently. I responded slowly but desperately, snaking my arms around his back and clutching him close as though he might disintegrate if I didn’t. My weight sank against him, and he sucked air sharply from my parted lips.
“Oh, God,” he said into my mouth. “I want you so fucking bad. I never stopped wanting you.”
“Don’t make me go,” I pleaded quietly.
“How could I ever make you go?” His arms tightened around me, and our lips joined with the heat of reunited lovers. Lovers who had just overcome their agonizing, crawling enemy: time.
His hand slid up my back and tangled in my hair, pulling slightly to expose my neck. He licked and then kissed a spot under my ear, and I fell limp against him. Every part of his body was hard, from the arms that held me, to the abs that supported me, to the erection that begged me. I moved my hips against him, encouraged by the small groans that escaped the back of his throat.
With one hand still in my hair, the other dropped to my ass and squeezed me against him. His lips returned to mine, and he kissed me like he owned me. Passion and fire exploded between us with only thin layers of clothing between us.
He was lacing his hand with mine, and tearing himself away to lead me from the exit. The dark master bedroom was a curved stretch of seamless windows. He placed me in front of them, with the cityscape at my back.
“Take that off before I rip it off,” he instructed and backed away to watch.
After reaching behind to lower my zipper, I stepped out of my shoes and onto the cold marble floor. The jumpsuit peeled from my body like I was shedding a second skin. I wavered in my black strapless bra and matching thong, awaiting instruction.
“Christ.” There was anguish in his voice as he reached and turned me around. He ran a hand down the length of my spine. “You’re nothing,” he said sadly.
I turned my head over my shoulder and responded urgently, “I’m nothing without you.”
He kissed my palms reverently and then the insides of my wrists. His lips moved up my left arm and over my shoulder, moaning my name softly against my skin. “I never stopped thinking of you,” he said into the curve of my neck. “My beautiful girl. I’ve dreamed of having you again over and over.”
His words were bittersweet pangs in my heart. My fingers fumbled with his button until it gave. When I nudged my head under his clothing to kiss his stomach, he squeezed my shoulders and muttered. When he pulled his sweater off, I admired him in his undershirt and boxer briefs; all man before me, stripped down to the basics.
He extended a hand to me, and I took it without hesitation. My legs wrapped around him when he lifted me. Yanking back the covers, he placed me atop buttery sheets against a mountain of pillows. I stayed secured to him as he ran a firm hand along my leg, fueling the ache. We stared at each other, me communicating with my eyes what I couldn’t with my words.
“You know why I get that way, don’t you?” he asked suddenly. “It’s torture to be next to you and not be able to even touch you. I can’t stay away from you, and I can’t have you.”
I nodded, hearing his words but nearly blind with lust. “Take this off,” I commanded, fisting his shirt.
He stood and tugged at the collar to yank it over his head. His boxer briefs were next. I bit my lip at how hard he was, solid and real, finally so real, and me, trembling with anticipation for him to relieve the heavy emptiness between my legs.
He was back on the bed, and I pulled at the ends of his velvety hair so he would settle his weight on me. His long body felt right covering mine.
I arched into him while his deft fingers released the clasp of my bra. His immense hand skated up my stomach. His fingers were coarse against my nipples, which tightened as he pinched them. With a hand on one breast, he lowered his head to take the other in his mouth. I gasped, my breast swelling into his open mouth as he swirled his tongue around it.
The longing between my legs tormented me, impatient to be acknowledged. He explored me leisurely though, with his lips and his hands, revering each curve of my body. In some spots he grasped me urgently, and in others, his touch was so gentle that I was sure I’d imagined it. I kept my hands tangled in his hair for fear that I’d wake up from this dream empty-handed.
“Olivia,” he moaned into the space between my breasts. Goose bumps lighted across my skin as his hand slipped into my panties. “Christ,” he bit out. His other hand grabbed mine. “Feel how fucking wet you are,” he demanded, pushing my hand between my legs. He guided our fingers into me.
“David,” I begged.
“That’s for me, baby. Does he get you dripping like this?”
I bit my lip and shook my head, my body tensing with arousal.
He released my hand, but his fingers continued sliding in and out of me. “Does he make you come?” he asked, his face hovering over mine.
I shook my head again.
He growled from his chest. “I’m still the only one. That part of you is mine.” He withdrew his hand, and I lifted my hips as he removed my panties with unnecessary concentration.
“David,” I begged again.
He kissed the inside of my knee. “What, baby?”
“I’m ready. Now.”
“You are more than ready,” he answered. The panties dropped, and he climbed back over me. He locked his lips on mine and made love to my mouth, softly and sweetly. “I was rough with you last time.” His words were careful, like his kisses and caresses. “Now that I have you again, I’ll fuck you slow so I can savor every second of it.”
I gasped, growing even wetter from his words but also with frustration that he wasn’t already inside me. My frustration grew when he stood up. I rose onto my knees and watched him pluck his pants from the floor, raiding the pockets.
I waited at the edge of the bed. We were playing with fire, and what scared me most was that I was lucid enough to stop it. But all I wanted was to cover myself in his broad, defined shoulders and spend our precious moments nestled in his smattering of chest hair.
I reached out for him. There was a crinkle of foil, and he produced a condom. “I want to feel you, David, all of you, everything single thing,” I ranted as he rolled it over his cock.
“You will, baby, you will. In time. When you’re mine.” I bit my bottom lip eagerly and in that moment, I believed him. I never removed my eyes from him, scared even to blink and miss a millisecond of his beauty.
He crawled over me, forcing me onto my back. He placed his lips on mine and then trailed kisses down my neck as his hips found their place between my legs. My hands rejoiced over the hot skin of his hard, muscled back. He cupped my jaw and looked down on me. “Are you sure about this?” he asked with surprising tenderness.
I’d wanted to be this close to him for so long. The thought of losing him now chilled me to the bone, triggering a tremble through my body. “I’ve been empty since I left you,” I whispered to him. “I need this – I need you, one last time.”
“But I need more.” Unable to comfort him with words, I reached between us. “I need more,” he repeated. His low whisper rumbled into a groan when I touched him, and he grew stiffer in my hand.
He reached down too and wrapped his hand around mine. We both watched our hands rub the crown of his cock against my opening. “Please, I’m so ready,” I insisted, because my folds were quivering with anticipation. I flexed my hand around him, urging him in.
He looked back at me. “I like you slow,” he said. “I can see on your face how badly you want it.”
“I want it,” I breathed, “bad.”
My body jolted when he plunged into me, burying himself to the base. I exhaled with a loud moan. He was so swollen and hard inside of me, the thought alone coiled my insides. His thrusts began short, like he wanted deeper than our bodies would allow. He gathered me in his arms and flipped us over, keeping me against him. One hand splayed against my lower back, and the other higher, pushing my compliant breasts against the hard surface of his chest.
I straightened up to deepen the angle and stilled, savoring the feeling of having him wholly inside me. I lifted and sank back onto him while bracing myself on his abs. I felt them flex as he sat up and secured my body in his brawny arms.
“You’re so beautiful,” he said, clearing hair from my face. I could see into him, read the adoration, the desire, the hurt in his eyes.
“It’s you,” I breathed. “You’re what I need, David. Make me whole again.”
He groaned and covered the sides of my face with his big hands. My mouth parted, and I sucked in a breath as I began to rock onto him. He touched the tip of his nose to mine, and I transferred every heartbeat from my mouth to his while he lapped them up greedily.
His hand slid behind my neck and stayed there, demanding my eyes on him. “Wrap yourself around me,” he said. I squeezed his shoulders and crossed my legs behind him. He gasped in a way that sounded almost pained when I undulated faster. “That’s it,” he panted. His hands fixed possessively over my hips and guided me onto him. Giving the control over to him drove me quickly to the edge.
I dropped my head into the crook of his neck. “Yes,” I breathed against him. Without thinking I bit his shoulder, and he let out a guttural groan. His hands jumped up to my waist, urging our bodies to meet faster as his fingers flexed into my skin.
“I can feel your body reacting,” he whispered fiercely with the tightening of my insides. “I can feel you getting close.”
I looked into his face and began to convulse. Everything I had been bottling released into my bloodstream, seeping into my bones, begging for an outlet. “David,” I cried with stuttered breaths, crushing his shoulders with my hands.
“I’m here, baby,” he responded, his own voice ragged and shallow. “Let go. I’m here.” Our fingers dug into each other at the same moment. Holding my gaze, he growled from his chest, and I bore down on him. His muscles tensed and contracted underneath my hands, and I watched, rapt, as he gave in. The raw pleasure in his face as he climaxed sent me flying over the edge. I came onto him with a body-wracking orgasm that shot waves from my core to the surface of my skin. As my body heated with bliss, I called out for only him. Months of simmering loneliness bubbled over, and I collapsed into his arms with unsolicited sobs.
He wrapped me up tightly as his shoulders heaved with deep breaths. “I’m here, baby, I’m here,” he repeated into my hair. “I’ve got you.”
I tangled my fingers in his chest hair and released the pain the only way I could: all at once and with unstoppable force. His hands stroked my back, my hair, but his clutch never loosened. His arms easily engulfed me, and though I was in pain, I’d never felt safer than curled into his embrace.
“I’m so sorry,” I said finally, when I’d caught my breath.
He let the words hang for a moment. “Never apologize,” he responded, rocking me against him. “Do you hear me? How can you apologize for that?”
“Oh, David,” I moaned into his skin. He rested his forehead against my sternum, rubbing the still-tingling skin of my back. “What are we going to do?” I asked in a rush of breath. I wasn’t sure if he heard, because he never responded.
Eventually, he rolled us both to set me on my back. He disconnected from me, tossed the condom aside and propped his head above mine with his hand. His fingers played with my hair, pushing it back on to the pillow as he looked down at me.
“I don’t always cry after sex,” I said, an empty attempt at humor. “Just with you apparently.”
“You can’t help your reaction.”
I studied the man above me, still in disbelief that he was, in fact, above me. He concentrated on my hair, raking his hands through the tangles as best he could. “I wish I could help it,” I said.
“Why? Just let go. You don’t need to manage yourself with me.”
I sighed and dropped my gaze. “With you, I have no control.”
“I told you before, I like you this way. Unguarded. Undone.” I bathed in his adoration; his fingers in my hair, his sweet but fleeting words. Already, the guilt was building inside of me, demanding my acknowledgment, trying to break the moment. As if he were listening to my thoughts, he said softly, “I want to take all your sadness away.”
My chin quivered, and I pressed my fingertips to my eyes to stem any more tears. It’s been so hard, David.
“I know,” he said. He encircled my wrists and carefully pulled my hands from my face. “I know.”
I blinked up at him. Had I said it aloud?
He placed a hand on the base of my neck and kissed me, claiming me with that one gesture. “Baby, I can’t fix it if you won’t let me.” His eyes searched mine, and I looked away.
“Don’t turn away from me.”
“I can’t,” I whispered. “It’s too much.” I went to sit up, but his hand on my chest pushed me back into the pillow.
“I said don’t turn away. Look at me.”
My jaw clenched; in that moment, I wasn’t strong enough to keep the hurt off my face, and I didn’t want him to see it. But his hand slid up to my chin, and he turned me to him. His expression was stern, but there was concern in his eyes. “I want to make it better.”
With my face still secure in his grip, I said, “You can’t. You can’t fix it. This can never be anything but broken.”
“To hear you say that . . . It kills me.”
“But it’s true. We’re headed for disaster. Even if I walk away right now, too much has happened already.”
His brows dipped. “Are you going to walk away?”
My chin was quivering again, and he rubbed it with his thumb. “How can I?” I whispered. “How can I not?”
“These have been the longest months of my life.”
“For me too,” I said in a breath.
“I don’t think I could give you up again.”
“But you have to. We’re all going to get hurt.”
“I’ll do whatever it takes so that you don’t.”
His hand slid down my sternum, but I held his gaze. “Even if it means letting me go?”
He cleared his throat and looked up at the headboard. His answer sounded far off, as if from a distance. “Would that make it better?”
“It’s just too late,” I said, unwelcome tears spilling from the corners of my eyes. “I did this to myself. But I don’t know how to make it stop. It – it hurts to be away from you.”
His face folded, and he cupped my cheek. “So don’t be away from me.”
I curled under the shelter of his broad shoulders, hiding my face from him. “You don’t know what you’re saying,” I said, holding back more tears with everything I had.
“I know exactly what I’m saying.”
“No,” I said resolutely, clutching the pillow. But it hurts so much.
He enclosed around my quaking shoulders, littering my hair with kisses until I slept.