Constantine: Britain’s Story Part 2 (Spearhead Lake)

Chapter 5

Britain

There’s nothing like a dead silent drive down mountain roads to give you a little bit of clarity. So after picking up In-N-Out and my emotional support ice cream, I headed home on a mission. I dropped everything on the kitchen island and bounded straight upstairs to my closet.

Picking up my old phone, I power it off once and for all. I’ll officially disconnect the line when I have the bandwidth to deal with the phone company. But this is it; no more weekly texts. No more holding out hope. It’s not worth my sanity.

I drop the phone into my underwear drawer — no need to keep charging it anymore — and head back downstairs. I grab the ice cream and walk out to the garage to put it in the chest freezer, but I halt when I open the door. My Porsche is parked in here, hidden from my everyday view. I never could bring myself to get rid of it.

I drop the ice cream in the freezer, then move to the car and open the door. It seems like a simple task, but it feels monumental. It's another hurdle to clear on the path to moving past Liam. It’s only been driven once in the last month or so, and the last time I drove it myself was on my way to Colton’s that night.

I slide into the driver’s seat, like some sort of exposure therapy I’m forcing myself to endure. Even though it’s hot enough to fry an egg on the hood, I close the door. I hate to admit it, but I do it so the smell of Liam’s aftershave doesn’t fade faster than it already is. I inhale his woodsy scent, thinking about the trip we took to Yosemite right before he left for Sonoma. Before I spread Georgia's ashes. Remembering that time feels like a kettlebell sitting on my chest. It probably isn’t helping that it's at least 120 degrees in here with the door shut.

I don’t want to get rid of this car, but I should probably get an air freshener if I want it to stop smelling like crippling pain. When I open the door and lean on the steering wheel to pull myself out of the low seat, something in the rearview mirror stops me. His sweatshirt is draped over the backseat, like a relic from the past. I lean back in to get it, then slam the door shut. I just stand there in the garage, holding the sweatshirt like it’s some sort of magical talisman because this is his sweatshirt. Not the one he gave me to wear, but his. And it still smells like him.

“Where are we going, babe?” Liam just looks over at me and smiles before extending his arm over to rest his hand on my leg. I love it when he does that. That hand is like an unwritten declaration. Mine. “You’re really not going to tell me?!”

“If I did, it wouldn’t be much of a surprise.”

“You’re killing meeeee. Please?” I ask, just shy of fully begging.

“Definitely not.”

“If I guess it, will you tell me?”

“No.”

“If I give you a blow job, will you tell me?”

“No.”

“If I give you a blow job right now, in the car, will you tell me?” He doesn’t immediately respond this time. I’ve got him.

“Fuck, Bambi.” I smile victoriously. I don’t even wait for him to say anything more. I just lean across the center console and start unbuttoning his jeans. He helps me move them down, exposing his cock. Then, holding his dick in my hand, I start by giving him a long lick up the underside of his shaft, pausing at the top to apply pressure to his head.

“Are you going to tell me if I give you this blow job?”

“No shit, Bambi. I’d give you anything right now if you’d just put my dick between your sweet lips.”

“Say no more,” I whisper before lowering my mouth down around him. He hisses, and the car begins to slow.

“Hold on, baby,” Liam says to me as he turns the car off the main highway and onto a heavily wooded dirt road. He puts the car in park and I get back to work. I suck him down, taking him all the way to the back of my throat, before moving my hand onto his base to assist. My mouth sucks, and my hand pulls, and I get wet knowing how much he likes my blow jobs.

“Baby, you’re my fucking favorite thing in the world…and this…is my favorite thing you do.” He’s white knuckling the steering wheel above my head as I continue taking him down my throat until he places one of his large hands on the back of my head and starts thrusting deeper. He’s close, and I let out a little moan, getting so turned on, knowing I get him like this. Whenever he comes in my mouth, he absolutely loses it, bucking his hips and groaning. I suck a little bit harder and pull him a little bit deeper, and he’s gone.

“Bambi, FUCK.” He thrusts into me hard as I swallow his cum. “Fucking hell, baby.” He sighs out, then gently strokes the back of my neck as he starts to come down. I clean him off with my tongue before sitting back up, and the minute I do, he launches himself at me. Holding both sides of my face between his hands, he slams his mouth over mine not caring that he can probably taste himself on me.

He pulls away just enough to say, “You have no clue what power you have over me when you do that. I’d give you the fucking world, the deed to my house, every penny if you asked.” I smile and blush, slightly embarrassed, but loving the praise he showers on me.

“Good to know. But all I’m asking is where you’re taking me.” He gives me one more peck before sitting back down and refastening his jeans.

“We’re going to Yosemite. I booked us a cottage at The Ahwahnee.” I’m pretty sure my mouth falls open. How does he just get me? He’s moving to put the car into reverse, but I stop him. Reaching over, I grab his face between my hands and I kiss him with everything I have. It’s a kiss that says I fucking love you, Liam Millar. I don’t say it out loud, though. It’s too soon.

I release him and he smiles at me, my favorite smile in the world. “Is that alright with you, Bambi?”

“More than alright. It’s been on my bucket list. For years. I don’t think you understand how excited I am right now.”

“Oh, I think I do, baby.” He reaches out and runs his thumb over my bottom lip, his gaze set upon my mouth. I blush. He gets just as excited over my blow jobs as I do over a trip to Yosemite. He drops his hand, patting my leg. “Buckle up, buttercup. And no more bjs if you wanna get there before sunset.”

“Yes, sir,” I say as I sit back in my seat. I’ve got the stupidest, biggest smile plastered all over my face because of this man. He absolutely blows me away.

I drop my head into the sweatshirt and inhale. The memory of us tangled in the sheets that week makes me want to cry all over again. You suck, Liam Millar.

I go straight upstairs after leaving the garage. Discarding my dress and panties on my closet floor, I slip his sweatshirt on and walk right over to my bed. Flipping the duvet cover back, I slide in between the cool sheets and lay down. I trail my hands over my breasts, feeling my bare, already-hard nipples chafe against the inside of his sweatshirt. When I get to the part in my legs, I drop my knees open and slip my fingers over my clit and into my hot center.

I’m soaking wet. Of course I am. Sex with Liam just did something to me. Apparently it still does something to me if I’m dripping wet over a memory. I slip two fingers inside myself and use my other hand to massage my clit, and I think about him. On top of me, sliding over me, thrusting into me. Praising me.

I push my fingers deeper, curling them, and my hips start grinding to get a better angle. I’m already close. I push down on my clit and increase the tempo of my finger thrusts and with closed eyes, my back arches, and I see his face. I see his body towering over mine. I can almost feel the heat radiating off his hard muscles as he tenses because knowing I’m close brings him closer, too. Instinctively, I want to moan his name. It seems like the natural thing to do, but I don’t let myself.

I can picture him in my dreams all I want, but his name passing through my mouth gives him credence in this space, and this is a Liam-free zone. So I bite down on my lip, hard, as my muscles tighten and clench around my fingers. My back arches again and I push my hips and feet down into the mattress as my orgasm rocks my frame. Fuck. I’ve forgotten what that’s like. It’s been…five weeks and…five days since I’ve had an orgasm. I drop my hands down, onto the bed and sigh.

Matthias

I check my watch for what feels like the hundredth time. She should be here by now. I scan the parking lot again. Maybe I missed her? But no, I still don’t see her SUV anywhere. The only thing indicating she might already be here is the BMW loaner car parked right in front of the office door. Maybe she took her car in for service and she’s driving a loaner? Her appointment is in five minutes, and it’s not like Britain to be late.

Fuck. I was really hoping to catch her before the appointment, so I could talk to her, but now there’s probably not enough time anyways. Her ultrasound’s today, and while I’ve been dying to ask if I can go in with her, I haven’t gotten the nerve to bring it up. Or the moment hasn’t been right. Or the girls have been around. Or I’ve been too scared of the answer.

She didn’t invite me to come, but I knew what time her appointment was today and I wanted to surprise her. Not just with my presence, but also with the rest of the afternoon, too. I’d hoped to catch her as she was walking in, and that’s when I’d finally do it. I’d ask her what I’ve been meaning to for weeks. Because I don’t want to be just some guy she’s dating, I want to be her boyfriend. Her serious boyfriend.

It was always supposed to be me taking care of her and this baby. I can practically hear my Dad’s voice echoing in my head about taking care of “his girls.” Yeah, I’m trying, Dad. And I want to be there for all the baby things, including the ultrasounds. Because if things keep going the way I hope, this baby will be my child, too. I don’t want to miss seeing one of their ultrasounds because I was too scared to put myself out there and tell Britain that I see a future with her. A future family, with this baby — and hopefully a few more.

But I’m starting to get this weird, gut feeling it’s not gonna happen the way I planned. Fuck it. I get out of my SUV and head into the office. A quick scan of the waiting room as soon as I walk in reveals what I already knew: She’s not here. As I approach the front desk, Silas walks out from the back, talking with a patient, so I wait a moment until he’s finished.

“To what do I owe the pleasure, brother?” Silas asks me as he moves to set down a file.

“Hey, is Britain already here?” I don’t know why I’m suddenly nervous. Is she okay? I haven’t talked to her all day in an attempt to hype up the element of surprise.

“You haven’t talked to her?” Silas asks. His response puts me slightly on edge.

“No, I was trying to…surprise her.” There’s that weird feeling again.

“She rescheduled.” That’s all he says.

“Why?” I ask a bit too harshly.

“She just needed to reschedule, man.” He’s talking to me as Dr. Scala right now, not my brother. Noted. I give him my sternest big brother look, but it doesn’t work on him anymore. He’s not Niko, or even Max, who I can still sway with a look and the knowledge that I sign their paychecks.

I nod my head and scoff lightly, “Alright, then.” That's all I can say, not sure if I’m more pissed off at Silas for freezing me out or Britain for not telling me. I turn around to head out the door, but before I can leave, Silas stops me.

“Wanna grab a beer tonight?”

“Ha!” Silas wants to grab a beer? Never thought I’d see the day Silas was asking me out for a drink. “Since when do you go out on a school night?” I attempt to rib him, but my tone is pissy, and it comes out mean.

“I don’t know, man, since we live in the same city for the first time in years, and you’re my brother?” Suspect.

“I’ve got plans, bud.” I try to adjust my tone to something less harsh, "Maybe next time.” I turn around to leave, but he calls out to me again.

“If your plans change, let me know!” I don’t respond, just heading straight out of the office. As I walk to my car, I get that weird feeling again. My gut twists with worry…and anger.

By the time I’ve rung the doorbell a third time, I really start to panic. Did something happen to her? To the baby? I’m just getting ready to call her again when she opens the door. The awful feelings coursing through me are alleviated the moment I see her. She must have been taking a shower. Her hair’s soaking wet, and all she’s wearing is a towel. But just the sight of her like this makes me semi-hard.

“Hi, come in. Sorry, was just in the shower.”

“I gathered,” I say as Britain ushers me through and over the threshold. As soon as she turns around from closing the door, I grab her around the waist and pull her into me. I need her so fucking bad. I drop my mouth to hers and she opens right up.

“Are we home alone?” I ask, releasing her mouth just long enough for me to ask and her to answer “Yes” before I’m all over her again. I’ve been waiting for this since the moment I saw her at Colton’s a month and a half ago, but between the move, and Sandy, and the girls, there hasn’t been an opportunity…until now. I pick her up, moving her legs to wrap around me and head straight for the stairs.

I’m almost to the top when Britain laughs out, “Not even a hello? How are you? Just straight to bed?” Yeah. I don’t think she has any idea how badly I’ve been needing this. How I need to cement myself in her life. How I need to claim her as mine.

I lay her down on her bed and quickly slip off my shoes. Less than a second later I’m on top of her, nudging her legs open with my knee.

“I missed you, babe,” I say as I take her mouth. Slipping my hand behind her head, I stroke her cheek, as our mouths move to the rhythm we’ve created. The same way we used to. Never too slow and never too fast, just perfectly in sync with each other. It’s always been so easy with her.

I move my hand to her breast and push the top of the towel down, exposing her, allowing me to run my thumb over a nipple. And fuck, she looks and feels better than I remember, and when she moans after I increase the pressure, I can’t fucking wait. I rip the towel apart exposing all of her, and I freeze.

I lean back on bent knees to admire the sight of her laid out before me. “You’re so beautiful, Brit,” I whisper and her cheeks turn bright pink. She’s beautiful, always has been. But now, she’s looking…very pregnant. I go rock hard, surprising myself. I haven’t seen her naked since, well, it’s been a really long time. 17 years, I think with regret. And the last couple of weeks she’s been wearing baggy sweatshirts and flowy sundresses, hiding this. I run my hand over her bump, loving how it feels, how she looks round with the baby.

The sting of jealousy hits me right in the center of my chest. It should have been my baby in there. The feeling only fuels the need I have for her. I haven’t felt this kind of lust towards anyone since…her. I glide my hand over her abdomen again, unable to help myself. Fuck, maybe my kink is fucking pregnant women?

“Matthias…” Britain says quietly. I’m still staring at her body and rubbing my hands all over her because she has no idea how good she looks, or how unbelievably sexy she is, bump and all. Especially with the bump. God damn. I grab one of her full breasts in my hand, noticing how much fuller they are than they used to be. Time has been good to her, filling out her breasts and hips.

“So, so beautiful, Brit,” I say to her before I drop my mouth back down to hers. She tastes amazing, leaving me to imagine what she tastes like down there. I push up and away from her mouth and make my way down her body, dropping kisses on her chest, her breasts, and lastly, her belly, before I move to settle in between her legs.

“Matthias, stop.” Her tone is firm, the sound abrasive to my ears, leaving me feeling instantly scolded. “I’m sorry, I can’t,” she says more quietly this time. My cheeks burn with embarrassment. I tense up, feeling the back of my throat sting painfully.

I just nod my head, but I’m finding it hard to meet her eyes. “No. Uh, no, I’m sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking.” Not true, I was thinking I want to fuck away all the memories of him. I move off and away from her, sitting on the edge of the bed to put my shoes back on, feeling the heat of anger spread through me. It should have been me. It was supposed to be us. That’s supposed to be our baby.

“I’m sorry, Mats.” Mats. When she says it, it hurts, and I can’t help the sarcastic laugh that I let slip out. I used to love it when she’d call me that. Now I’m here feeling chastised and she calls me Mats like it’ll somehow soften the blow.

“Why did you reschedule your appointment?” I turn to look at her, and her eyes go wide with surprise. There’s a slight bark in my tone that I don’t try hard enough to hide.

“Did Silas call you?” She tilts her head slightly in confusion.

“No, I went to his office. I was expecting to see you there for your appointment.”

“Oh, you were coming to my appointment?” Yes, Britain. I try not to feel hurt by the sound of her surprise.

“I mean I thought I’d kill two birds with one stone. See you, see my brother.” The lie comes out easily.

“Right. Let me get dressed really quick and then we can talk, okay?” She rests her hand on my shoulder and I get that awful feeling in my gut again. But I don’t let on. I just nod my head and stand.

“Do you want me to get you water or anything? I’m gonna head downstairs.” I ask mostly to keep my mind and hands busy, but I know I’m falling right back into the role I was made for — taking care of her.

“Sure, I’ll take a water. Thanks.”

I walk out of her bedroom feeling burned, and like the biggest fucking idiot. Was I wrong thinking she was ready? I thought we just hadn’t gotten the chance to be alone. It never occurred to me she might not want me. I don’t fucking get it.