28. LoverLeaver?
Chapter twenty-eight
Lover or Leaver?
Maggie
This chemistry we had was so powerful. I could only hope whatever this was between us would never end.
When Paul’s arms shook, I rubbed my hands on his side to encourage him to rest on top of me.
“It’s okay. You won’t crush me,” I whispered, afraid to burst the bubble we were in and remind him about the world. For now, I wanted it to only be the two of us. “Rest on top of me.”
Instead, Paul grunted as he forced himself to climb over me, pulling out of me quickly in the process, and headed for the bathroom.
After a minute, he washed his hands and came back to bed with a warm washcloth.
Then, he rested in bed far enough away from me so we didn’t touch.
On his back, he threw his arm up over his eyes.
Since his chest still heaved, I gave him a minute to recover on his own. Carefully, I cleaned up with the washcloth, setting it aside as doubts flittered into my head when he didn’t reach for me. Wouldn’t he want to hold me afterward like he did last night?
So, I leaned on my side. Gently, I lifted his arm from his eyes, pulling it around behind me. Snuggling into him, his chest hair tickled my nose, so I scooted up a little higher until my nose was tucked into his neck. He smelled so good that I placed a kiss where my lips rested.
I thought we could just cuddle together for a while, but Paul turned so we faced each other, studying everything about me. With his intense brown eyes burning a trail down my skin, insecurity flared, but he wouldn’t allow me to turn away. Gently, his hand brought my face back to him.
“What?” I asked, feeling an odd fear of his scrutiny.
Ignoring the question, he slowly moved forward until his lips brushed against mine. With his tanned, calloused hands, he caressed my face softly as he pushed his hand into my long, tangled hair. With a slow-burning desire, he worshipped me with his lips and soft touches.
My body was already responding to his touch when his thumb brushed against my nipple.
I drew in a sharp intake of breath. “Are you sure you’re ready for another round? Because that’s where we’re headed if you keep doing that.”
Guiding my hand down his stomach, he sucked in a breath as I wrapped my hand around his erect cock.
“I’m ready whenever you are,” he whispered, then told me all the things he still wanted to do to me.
Between his words and the way he barely brushed my nipple, he made my clit throb with desire. Moisture pooled between my thighs.
“Paul,” I purred.
It was a plea, a hope, and laced with so much more than I could say. By the look of his darkened eyes, every dream about him I had in bed was about to be fulfilled.
Leaning closer, he made lightning bolts and fireworks go off in my core until he swallowed the climax that hit me hard.
When he angled me to roll both nipples at the same time, I already felt another climax was on the horizon. “H-how do you know what my body craves?”
Releasing one nipple, his hand drifted down my belly until I gasped when it breached my lower lips. He licked my nipple, then turned back with a raised eyebrow. “I’ve always known you better than anyone, Mags.”
It was true. He did. And now he was more than proving it.
Before I could say a word, he took over my body, overstimulating everything until I was about to burst into flames.
And then the most amazing thing happened.
Multiples. So many orgasms in a row that I was losing my mind.
A few times, he clamped his lips over mine, kissing me to muffle the unbridled screams from the way he handled my body.
At some point, I knew I was being loud, but there was no way in the world I could stop when he summoned that many climaxes in a row.
My body vibrated with something I couldn’t name.
A feeling I’d never felt. Something huge coming that scared me even though I didn’t want it to stop.
A need so great bearing down on me there was nothing I could do.
Paul kept at all the magic he was doing.
I felt my body gush on his hand once, then twice.
“Oh, fuck! Oh, fuck!” I chanted into his neck as my inner muscles threatened to spasm like they had last night. Something was happening to my body. Something huge. Something I wasn’t sure I would survive.
And then my muscles contracted so hard that a scream was ripped from my body.
Paul stilled his efforts as the biggest climax of my life washed over me, I panted for breath, and everything tingled.
Removing his hands from the sensitive places on my body, Paul tucked me into his side.
There was no coherent thought as I drifted in and out of consciousness.
When I startled awake, I looked around and realized I was alone. Paul was gone. Again.
Tears gathered in my eyes and fell down my cheeks with a rapid pace. I wasn’t sure what happened. He gave me the most intense orgasms of my life and then vanished.
Did I do something wrong? Had I not pleased him enough? Was this not what he wanted? Why did I keep passing out after intimacy? Did I feel so comfortable with him that I slept beside him or did he wring every last drop of energy I had so I couldn’t go on without a rest?
Questions swirled around in my brain until I thought I was going crazy.
Forcing my well-used body to move, I swayed on my way to the shower.
All I could think to do was to wash his scent from my skin.
How could I want that masculine scent on me when maybe this thing with him didn’t mean what I thought it meant.
Maybe we were friends with benefits. We were both going through something, and although I still didn’t know what his problems were, maybe this was just our way of getting through.
Mind-blowing, life-altering sex and nothing more.
Though I was raised to avoid such things, I was an adult.
It was like skipping a meal and eating dessert instead.
I could do that. I could get dressed and go to Steeplegate for pie and ice cream right now if I wanted.
But after the shower, I threw on a pair of panties and a large-necked sweatshirt, grabbing the television remote to cuddle up in bed.
While I thought I could be okay, my bed still smelled like him even if I didn’t. And then I watched a romantic comedy with blurry-eyes.
I kicked myself, sick of being that girl who got upset when the boy didn’t make her feel loved.
I’d tried not to care, to be indifferent about it, but his scent lingered on my pillowcase.
Memories of him, his tenderness, and how good we were together filled my senses, then vanished when I opened my eyes to find him gone.
As I sniffled and dabbed at my eyes, I saw the time was after three o’clock. He probably just had to get back to work. So, why did I have to be so emotional?
Because he left without a word. He could have left a note or a text, but I’d checked my phone. There was nothing.
I felt used, discarded, and worse yet, convenient.
And I hated myself for continuing to long for more of him.
Why was I so desperate for his touch? Sure, I’d held out for a long time waiting to be with the right man, the one who made me feel special and made intimacy enjoyable.
And Paul was the man for me. Or so I thought.
I’d waited so long for him that I was starved for physical intimacy, but it wasn’t enough.
I needed an emotional connection to him that he wasn’t providing.
Cringing, I thought about all the lectures Father’d given me, telling me to wait until I was married.
Was it possible that the lesson wasn’t to wait for physical reasons but because of emotional ones?
No, he’d never said anything about that.
Just harped on how it was a sin. But now that I was an adult, why shouldn’t I enjoy sex?
I was old enough and responsible, choosing to get an IUD and choosing a partner who was healthy.
After waiting as long as I had, I deserved to enjoy sex.
But the way I felt now was awful. I needed to know what Paul was thinking. Not knowing how he really felt about me and what he wanted from this situationship was messing with my head.
More than anything, I wondered how I was going to explain to Mom tomorrow that I saw him again, but we still didn’t talk. She’d either figure out what we did or be completely confused. Either way, I was in for a lecture.
Finding an old mystery on television, I tried to keep my focus on the storyline. I watched for clues, got to know the characters, but my attention drifted before the end. When I came out of a daydream, I realized I missed the ending.
So, I shut off the television and checked my phone. When I saw I had a text, my heart jumped.
Paul: Tonight at the pond, 8 o’clock.
Just a text from him and my thighs clenched. Heat swirled in my core and that familiar tingle at the base of my spine had moisture pooling between my legs. I was helpless to walk away from him even though it might be better for my heart.
For now, I’d enjoy every moment we did have.
Mom wanted that for me and wanted me to be with Paul.
She had a relationship in mind, but since that couldn’t work, maybe this was what we needed to get each other out of our systems. Just some summer fun.
A fling. I’d never had one, but I didn’t see an alternative at this point.
I was already addicted to Paul, but it was clearly one way.
So, if this was all I could have, then I’d take what I could get.
When I went to visit Mom, she’d had a hard day and was resting. The fact that we didn’t have to talk about Paul and whatever was going on between the two of us was a relief, but I was concerned.
After an hour of sitting with her, watching her sleep, I went to the kitchen to talk to Father, handing him the mail I’d picked up earlier.
“What happened today? Was she uncomfortable?” I asked.
He sat nursing a cup of coffee. “She’s in pain, Margaret. Of course, she’s uncomfortable. It’s getting worse and harder to control.”
While I knew that, it seemed that hospice was supposed to help with that.
“Isn’t Mary giving her enough medicine?” I asked. “Or is there something holistic I should be looking into? I’ll do whatever I can.”
“There’s only so much that can be done, don’t you understand?
” he roared, then stood pacing. “I take care of her meals, make her foods that I hope are appetizing and don’t aggravate the sores in her mouth, but it’s not working.
No matter what I make her, she doesn’t want to eat.
And the pain is increasing with every day those tumors grow.
I’m watching her waste away, and there’s nothing I can do about it. ”
I pressed my lips together, trying not to say what came to mind.
“Don’t you have something to say now? Some sort of helpful statement that will fix everything? Isn’t that why you came back, to be the savior?” he asked in a mocking tone.
“Where’s your God now?” I blurted, unable to hold back any longer.
His microaggressions since I came back had piled onto my already strained nerves.
“Aren’t you supposed to be able to pray to him to make Mom better, and He’ll listen to you because you’ve been such a devoted, faithful servant?
So has she, for that matter. You always have the answers, so tell me, Father, why isn’t your God helping her? ”
Father’s face turned that familiar shade of purple before he called me blasphemous and demanded that I leave.
I didn’t argue with him this time. There were so many things I didn’t understand about his religion, one that I’d been forced to listen to for so many years.
How could he justify his beliefs with what was happening now?
How could he blame me for failing to save her when he’s the one who separated us?
But the moment I stepped outside into the humidity, tugging off that oppressive long skirt, shame washed over me for making things worse. I knew Father was hurting and instead of being there for him, I took his insults personally and threw his one source of comfort into his face.
Driving to the park, I sat on the bench watching the sun set and called my aunt and uncle.
“Hey, sweetie, how are things going?” Aunt June asked. “Your uncle is here, too.”
A tear slipped down my cheek. “Oh, you know. Awful.”
“Is it your mom?” Uncle Isaac asked.
“She’s having a bad day, which is worrisome.
But when I tried to talk to Father about it, he lashed out at me, and I threw something back in his face that I shouldn’t have.
I just don’t know why he hates me so much,” I said, my chest so tight I clutched it.
“I didn’t come back to save her, as he said.
I’ve never pretended to have all the answers.
I was only trying to talk to him about how to help her. ”
“Your father is hurting far too much to be thinking logically,” Uncle Isaac said. “I’m sorry he’s lashing out at you.”
“Do you need us to come?” Aunt June asked.
Pressing my lips together, I swiped away some tears. “Not yet. I just needed to hear friendly voices. Tell me what’s happening there.”
After talking with them for a while, hearing about Uncle Isaac’s work and Aunt June’s new recipe, I did feel a little better. Knowing Father and I were both upset and hurting, I forgave us both and hoped tomorrow would be a better day.
As I approached the pond, soft candlelight greeted me. Moving closer, I noticed hundreds of battery-operated candles.
“Too dry for the real ones,” Paul said as he met me at the path.
With a blanket spread out in front of the log, a picnic basket, a bottle of wine, and a couple of mason jars, he’d thought of everything. And my chest tightened. This wasn’t a quick romp he had in mind for us tonight.
My lips curled up in a shy smile. “This is beautiful.”
“Not as beautiful as you.”
He leaned down to kiss me, and when my fingers wrapped around his neck, he whisked me away to another world.
A world of candles, wine, making love, all in a bubble where nothing bad existed.
A world where he pleasured my body in every way possible.
With food and without. With his tongue and his fingers.
With his cock and just with his breath. I let him sweep me up in the fantasy that nothing else existed.
Because life was unkind. Because not talking was easier.
And because his body was so damn magical that I wouldn’t let anything spoil these moments together.