Elusive Ease
In the midst of chaos, she found her calm
His hands on her body stole her from harm.
In his solace she struggled to find her ease
Hoping in vain for the questions to cease
Vienna
I basked in the strength his presence filled me with, my tears starting to fade as I felt his contemplation turning into acceptance. He was hurting, just like me. Destiny had twisted both our fates, tearing us apart.
I ached with his despair, needing but failing to remember him. The moments that we shared were nothing but phantom aches and visions in my heart and soul.
A part of me wanted to break even further. It wanted to fall into his arms and crumble. It wanted him to accept me, to forget the mistakes I might’ve made in the past and just accept me. I wanted him. But the other part of me didn’t trust these overwhelming emotions twirling in my soul. It needed more to be willing to accept. There was more to this story, it believed, more to my reasons for running away from him. The anger still lingering vouched for it. And in the midst of this turmoil, I let my tears and inhibitions fall out of me. I just stood there and watched him struggle and finally make up his mind. He moved toward me and my pulse sped up, waiting for his acceptance.
I gasped as his warm hands cradled my face and he leaned into me, his forehead resting on mine. “I don’t know what to do, Vienna,” he whispered. His eyes closed as his breath feathered over my lips.
Need sprouted in my soul. I hated the space between us. I needed him closer, I needed him to take me in his arms and make me forget, to erase this day and help me remember.
“I can’t just let go and move on.” His thumb caressed my cheeks. “Neither can I let you go. Not after what you told me. It’s ripping me apart.” His eyes met mine, his turquoise gaze trapping me. “Tell me,” he pressed. “What should I do?”
I trembled at this trepidation. How could I answer his question when I was fighting the same hesitation?
“I hated you for five years, Vienna. With all my heart, I wanted to make you suffer the same pain I did.”
I blinked, fighting tears at his cruel words.
“It fed me, it pushed me,” he continued, “it made who I am today.” His grip tightened as he swayed between retrospect and rage. “You barged into my life and stole away the last bit of my sanity.”
“I’m—”
“Don’t,” he growled. “I’m hanging onto the last threads of reason. Don’t say a single word, don’t move, don’t speak, just don’t.” He closed his eyes and cursed under his breath, the magnitude of his emotions washing over me. Despite myself, despite his restraint, I reached out to his face and touched him.
“Kingston,” I exhaled.
“Fuck,” he swore, and his eyes flew open. “You never listen, do you?” He reached up to my neck and pulled me close, crushing my body into his. I cried out at his aggression. “And now…” He looked at me, fire burning in his eyes.
Seeing him in such turmoil broke my heart. I wanted to help him, but how could I? I was broken, myself.
Try, whispered my soul.
Trust yourself and try.
Kiss him, the voice whispered. Bridge the gap and kiss him. You might not remember but you still feel. Show him what you feel.
His eyes blazed with need, as if hearing my innermost thoughts, and in that moment all doubts ceased.
“Kiss me,” I murmured, closing in the gap. “Kiss me and allow yourself to forget. Kiss me and help me remember.”
He reacted, and his lips crashed into mine. He growled, I moaned, our touches burning right to our soul. Everything we’d been through, boiled down to this one kiss.
The kiss became the prayers of our heart, seeking redemption, seeking solace, seeking acceptance.
His arms wrapped me in his embrace and pulled me in closer, closer to his aching body. He gave me shelter in his arms, and in that moment, despite my dilemma, I surrendered.
I gave in and poured my being into the kiss, clawing at his robe, pulling at his hair, moaning and crying at the same time. We moved in unison, dancing together, our tongues dueling, our hearts rejoicing, and our past gluing us together. So bruised were our souls after years of separation that nothing mattered in this moment. But I needed more. I needed his touch to burn away my misery. I needed his breath to dust away the corrosion of my memories. I needed him to rip apart my clothes and my existence and conquer me. I needed him to strip me bare and fill in my body and my soul.
His heart heard my pleas as he grabbed me and lifted me in his arms, breaking the kiss and forcing me to open my eyes. “Stop me now, or else…” he warned.
I reached up to his neck and pulled him close. “I’m yours,” I whispered.
We barely made it to his bed as the last threads of our constraints snapped.
Kingston had become ferocious, his inhibitions breaking apart. He dropped me on the bed and took off his robe, fire and desire dancing in his eyes.
I fought to hold his gaze, mesmerized by his sculpted form as he leaned in, sliding his hand up my waist and lifting my shirt.
I shivered and closed my eyes.
“Look at me,” he commanded. “I want to see you. I want to see the Vienna I used to know. I want to make you remember the way you came apart in my arms.”
My body ignited at his words, unyielding need burning through my blood.
He undressed me and my inhibitions. With his gaze still holding mine, he stripped my shirt off.
Lying there in just my bra, I felt myself awakening. As he leaned in and kissed me, I sighed, taking the moment to feel his body on mine. I reached to his bare, muscled back and raked my nails over his shoulders, earning a groan of approval.
He bit me on my neck in response, reaching back and undoing my bra, leaving me bare in a matter of a breath. The second-day stubble of his beard grazed my burning skin as he kissed me all over. His damp body sent shivers down my spine as he moved around my body, confidently taking both my breasts and squeezing them. I cried out as he twisted my nipple, my moans turning into cries as I fought the building ache in my body.
“Kingston, please,” I begged.
My nails dug into his shoulder blades, begging him to end this beautiful misery. But he kept inflicting want in my body, stealing away my feeble protests with possessive kisses and treacherous touches.
He knew exactly what he was doing, sending a jolt of fire through my body as he took one of my nipples in his mouth and bit, making me scream his name.
He continued his sensual assault, undeterred by my stuttering pleas, torturing me with delicious ecstasy.
So consumed by my need, my restraints snapped free, my hands reaching down his spine and grabbing his bathing trunks by their waistband.
“Kingston, end this misery,” I moaned. I tried pulling down his trunks, but his hand stopped mine, his lips letting go of my nipple as he looked at me.
“Give in, Vienna, and let me take control. Try and trust me,” he whispered, lifting my hand back to his neck as he gently kissed my knuckles. “I know it must be hard, giving into a person you know but is still a stranger to you, but trust me the way you did that night in New York, and let me try to make you remember what we were. Let my touch ignite the memories of the moments we shared together.”
Words failed to express my emotions, so I nodded, hoping he read my doubts and would steer my surrender in the right direction.
Slowly, with my consent, in one slow yet sure pull, he undid my pants, pulling them down, along with my underwear.
There I was, naked in body and in soul, risking my faith on a known stranger. It was different this time, so much different from the night in New York. Then I’d acted on instinct and lust, not knowing what he was to me. But now I knew, now I saw him as more than just the handsome man I worked for, who I was attracted to. Now I saw him as my long-lost lover, the one person who maybe held the answers to my dilemma. I saw him as the father of my lost child, the love I’d forgotten, the love that lived in me despite the distance, the amnesia, the heartache. He was so much more to me now then he’d been that night in New York, and that made all the difference tonight.
He stood there, silently adoring me, the look in his eyes unlike what I’d seen before. There was an undying passion twirling around, painted in love and belonging. As he looked at me, not touching me physically, yet touching my soul with his gaze, my doubts evaporated. I lost the sense of unease as I accepted his acceptance of me, no matter how I was. Looking into his eyes, the eyes of a man who’d lived through such tragedy and loss, such betrayal and reasonless drought, I found the strength to accept what I was, what I was going through today. A part of me still fought as my heart raced to a conclusion, but I suppressed that need to figure things out and chose to accept my reality. I chose him.
“I’m yours,” I whispered again.
“As always,” he whispered back. “Like I’m yours, tied by fate, tied by the stars that shone upon us, shooting through the stars and making our wishes come true.”
A jolt of memory bored through my mind. Nights, cradled in his arms, staring at the stars, making wishes. The image merged into another, a box wrapped with a beautiful multi-colored ribbon lay by my lavish Victorian-style bed. A note lay on my blanket.
For you,
A shooting star, for anytime you need to make a wish
-Kingston
I remembered opening the box, a flurry of emotions rushing through my mind. As I opened it, I’d gasped, unable to hide the tears of joy. It was a cufflink with a diamond-encrusted shooting star. It was old. Like the one...
I jolted back, realizing where I’d seen its exact replica.
“What’s wrong?” Kingston asked, bending over my body.
His concern filled my dry eyes with tears as I looked at him and smiled. I grabbed his face and kissed him.
“Your words…” I smiled at him again, uncaring of the tears in my eyes.
“Made you remember,” he finished my sentence, realizing what I’d been about to say.
I nodded.
“What did you remember, Vienna?” he asked, leaning closer and caressing my face.
“I remembered the gift you gave me, the shooting star cufflink. I still have it. I just didn’t know where I got it from, but I knew it was too important to let go. I put it inside my jacket every day. You had the same cufflinks the day I first met you.”
“One is a replica. We both have one of the originals. I gave it to you as a token of love and luck, just like my grandmother did to my grandfather on their wedding.” He gave me a soft smile before closing the distance and kissing me. After that, no words were spoken, my questions melting in his kisses. The last piece of clothing he had on came off as he showered my body with kisses, adoring me, thanking me for remembering.
I gave in, quivering from his touches, pushing away the million questions that came with the recollection. His lips travelled lower to my body, his hands pushing apart my thighs. “Kingston,” I cried out as his breath whispered over my sex.
I cried out in pleasure as he licked my core, the thumb from his free hand pressing on my sensitive nub. His torment pulled pleas and moans out of my mouth as he pushed me higher to the peaks of ecstasy.
“I need you. Please, Kingston, stop, please,” I begged.
He didn’t listen, punishing me with pleasure, entering his finger into me, extorting more need for him.
Frustrated, my patience snapped, and I swore. “Fuck, Kingston, stop torturing me and get the fuck up and take me.”
It was then he stopped and looked at me, his mouth still there. He laughed and sucked my clit, and I bucked, swearing like crazy.
“There’s the girl I know,” he said, sliding up to kiss my face. “You were a foul-mouth in bed, Ms. Vienna Roy. You never swore, other than the times you were in bed with me, not getting what you wanted.”
He stared at me, his body pressing into mine, the tip of his erection torturously close to my entrance.
The laughter was gone from his eyes, a distant emotion of pining mixed with passion staring back at me.
Slowly, he moved as the air around us thickened. He grabbed me by the back of the neck and pulled me close. “To us,” he whispered. “And to the memories we made together.” He kissed me and thrust into me, swallowing my cries as my body fought to accommodate him. His eyes bored into mine as he impaled me, daring me to look away as he thrust with dominance, toying with my body, teasing me with my climax, but never allowing me a release.
I stared into his eyes as his body commanded pleasure out of mine, holding onto his confidence, believing in his faith, and surrendering to his strength. We moved in unison, our bodies already knowing each other’s rhythms. He thrust harder and harder, pushing me to my brink, pushing me to the point of demise, only to kiss me with one last thrust and revive me with an earth-shattering orgasm followed by his own as he thrust frantically and collapsed, his body shivering with the intensity and falling onto mine. We rode the wave of ecstasy together. I held onto his body and hid my face, shaken by the intensity coursing through my blood.
Tears escaped as I drowned in emotions, my mind wandering back to those dark revelations, taunting me for not telling Kingston about the baby we’d lost. Had he known I was pregnant? Had he freaked out at the news? Could that be the reason I’d run? Questions started to fill me just as I eased out of my orgasm-induced haze.
Kingston stirred over me as his breathing evened out, completely unaware of the chaos in me until a tear slipped out onto his shoulder.
His gaze shot up to mine. “What’s wrong?” He grabbed my face and stared into my eyes.
“I was pregnant,” I blurted.
“What?” His entire body went still, his eyes filling with pain.
“When I had the accident, I was eight weeks pregnant.”
“Did you…?” He slipped out of me and stood up in one swift motion, running his hands through his hair, completely unaffected by his nudity, as his shock killed the question I was about to ask.
There was no way he’d known.
His eyes were filled with shock and pain.
“I lost the baby in the accident. I don’t even remember it. No one told me I’d been pregnant.”
“Fuck.” Shaking his head, he walked away, leaving me alone only to return a moment later, dressed in pajama pants, a spare t-shirt and boxers in his hands.
“Clean up and change,” he whispered, locking his emotions away from me.
“Kingston,” I whispered.
“Not now.” His words shut me down as I grabbed the clothes from his hand and stepped out of the bed, his cum spread on my thighs.
Silently, he pulled the curtains on the windows and tossed our clothes on the side of the chair as I walked to the washroom and cleaned up. Spade and Sasha had already settled into their beds. Kingston locked the door and dimmed the lights. Soft music started in the background as he walked to the bed and pulled out the covers and held them for me.
Not knowing what was going on in his mind, I followed his cue and crawled up to the left side. My action earned me a small smile as he made room for me.
“Why did you smile?” I asked.
He lay down and pulled me into his body. “Even when you don’t remember, something in you does.”
“What do you mean?”
“You always liked sleeping on the left side, as did I. But once again, you won.”
He pulled me in closer, and I instinctively wrapped my hands around his bare arms, finding comfort in his warmth, pushing away any negativity that was filling my mind.
“Stop thinking, Vienna, and just sleep.” He kissed my hair. “We’ll figure things out.”
I drifted into sleep, fighting to believe his words.