Chapter 19
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Liaden
A fter I woke up from my post-deflowering-my-crush nap, to find him smiling down at me as he watched me, I started sleepily tracing his tattoos with my finger, learning each one and enjoying the way goosebumps rose on his skin in response to my touch.
I thought about why he chose these particular pictures and letters, what significance they have for him.
I remembered the letters on his forearm: YKWYDMFNF.
I followed the shape of each one with my fingertip, but when I asked him what they stood for, he just shook his head and distracted me with kisses.
I was disappointed that he didn’t want to tell me, as it showed me that, even after all that transpired, his defences are still up and probably aren’t going anywhere.
Maybe he just needs some more time to settle.
I suggested we could go for a walk along the seafront in the early evening; I wasn't ready for the day to end yet. Plus, I knew a nice walk to blow out the cobwebs of my nap would feel so good. He nodded, wide awake and happy enough to go along with whatever I wanted, so I drove us down to the beach. In the high holiday season I’d have had no chance of finding any parking, but this time we were one of the only cars in the whole area. .
I feel like I’m in a dream. Ravenous after the afternoon’s lovemaking, we stop at the food stands on the pier for spicy, satisfying takeaway noodles, followed by fresh, warm cinnamon sugar doughnuts.
We stroll hand in hand, in no hurry, and then I’m wrapped up in his arms, my back to his front, as we watch the sun setting into the ocean.
I smile sleepily as I feel him run kisses down my neck, locking our fingers together as he holds me close.
He can’t stop touching me, always maintaining some form of physical contact.
I chuckle and melt inside as he licks a trace of sugar from the corner of my lips.
A girl could get used to this level of attention.
It’s a wonderfully peaceful way to spend the twilight hours. Though, when I check my watch, it’s still a little early for twilight. One fat raindrop lands on my wrist, and I look up. Dark, almost black rain clouds are quickly gathering overhead, chasing the clear skies surrounding the sunset.
“Maybe we should - ” A flash of forked lightning tears across the sky, and a few more drops splash onto my skin, a little harder. “Shit,” I laugh. My car must be a good half mile away. We’re going to get drenched, and I'm only wearing a light jacket.
Dean pulls off his leather jacket and puts it over my head. “No, you’ll get cold - ” I protest, but he shakes his head insistently and urges me forward.
We break out into a run as the downpour hits, loud and raucous, sounding like stones hitting the ground.
It’s cold, sharp, and biting, and I try to share the shelter from the jacket with Dean but he shakes his head, wanting me to have all the protection.
I pull the car keys out of my pocket, and he takes them from me, running ahead and unlocking the doors.
His top clings wetly to his skin, droplets running over his face and down strands of his hair.
In spite of the cold and wet, and being winded from running, a burn of desire for him warms through my veins.
I want him again .
Dean
I’m hers.
Fully.Completely.
I’d do anything for this woman. I’d give her both my kidneys. I’d be her human shield against anything life throws at her. Giving her my jacket to keep her as dry as possible was nothing to what I’m prepared to do for Liaden O’Brien.
I can’t stop looking at her, touching her however I can.
I’m fascinated by her mouth, red and trembling with the cold, the same mouth that took me to fiery heaven and brought me safely back down to earth again.
For so long I was almost afraid of it all, of opening myself up to someone in that way.
But with Liaden, it’s not only natural, it’s necessary.
Surprising, and yet sustaining me more than even the air I breathe.
The moment we’re both in the car, catching our breath and dripping all over the seats, I pull her to me and kiss her damp, cold lips.
The shivers running over my skin have nothing to do with being chilled and soaked to the bone, and everything to do with the thrill of relief at having her in my arms once again. I’m never getting tired of this.
Mine .
Her mouth is so sweet and spiced with the lingering hints of the cinnamon donut sugar. I pull her closer to me, closer, until she finally and blissfully climbs on top of me.
Mine.
Her thighs are so chilled, almost clammy with it, but her pussy is still achingly hot as it lines up so perfectly where my dick is straining against my zipper, demanding her again.
My hands go higher to cup her butt, so tight and full, my fingertips clutching at her cool flesh as I grind her urgently against me.
Sinking into her earlier was the hottest, most intense feeling in the world, the kind that makes you dizzy.
I ached then, and I ache in this moment, too.
I need her right now, just like I need oxygen.
More.
She gasps against my lips as I pull on her clothes, lifting the skirt of her dress and pulling the crotch of her panties to one side.
I know what’s waiting for me now. I almost vibrate with the knowledge of it, and I crave another taste.
I’m determined to make this good for her, because I’ll be damned if this is gonna be a one sided fumble in a car with steamed up windows, fuck no, so it makes my breath catch when I find her delicate flesh soaking wet on my fingers.
We could get caught.
The windows are steamed up, but someone could see us, or see the car rocking back and forth. We could get caught…
My cock pulses hard at the thought, enough to make me gasp. I circle her clit with my thumb while easing my forefinger into her channel, trying to sync up my movements. I don’t want to leave her hanging again. She’s coming on my cock before I shoot my load or I’ll die trying.
Matching my fervour, thank god, she battles with my belt and zipper until my rock-on is free, rubbing me hard and fast until I’m almost seeing stars. I lose my rhythm stroking her, making me annoyed with myself, so I grab my cock, line it up with her pussy, and ease her down.
Fuck . The hot feeling is an amazing contrast to the chill of our skin, and just as intense as the first time.
But I will hold on to my self-control this time, even if it’s by my fingernails.
I will . So I return my fingers to her clit, rubbing that gorgeous nub until I can actually feel her getting wetter against my shaft.
God , that feels so fucking good …
And, thank god, I think she agrees. I love the way she moans, the soft little noises she makes, the catches in her breath and the glide of her wetness as I fuck her. I’m actually fucking. This is surreal and magnificent and better than my wildest dreams.
I pull on her neckline until her tits pop out, and I’m sheathed to the hilt in her, and I’m not sure whether I find her more devastatingly sexy , grinding against me as her nipples harden into points, or if she’s more adorable , wrapped in a damp coat with droplets of rain from her wet hair falling onto me .
I’ll figure it out some other time, I tell myself, breathless as I gently scrape my teeth over one of her tips, making her squirm and mewl.
Just as she is now, she’s the most beautiful, erotic sight I ever saw.
It’s killing me, in the best way. Grabbing her hips as I feel the telltale warning tickling the base of my spine, I grind right back at her, feeling like the goddamn man when her eyes widen and she nods fast. “Yes…like that,” she bursts out, shifting slightly until she’s mashing her clit against my pubic bone, and then this furtive car fuck becomes a sweaty, blurry, furious rollercoaster of lust and clenching that nothing and no-one can stop, and… and…
Nom de Dieu, the feeling of pumping a hot load into the soft, warm wetness engulfing and clenching at me as she gets off is like nothing I could have anticipated. It’s nothing like I thought it would be. It’s better. I never could have envisioned this.
I made her come with my cock. I did it.
I feel more powerful, more like a vital, alive man than I ever have before. And it’s intoxicating.
Even though my boner is dying down inside her, I want her again. I want to lose myself one more time…
Liaden
As we peel ourselves apart and readjust our clothes, it becomes clear the rain isn’t going to let up any time soon. I climb into my seat, and Dean takes my hand and kisses my fingers.
My place is closer, he says, come back to mine? There’s a hint of pleading in his eyes. He’s not ready for the day to end any more than I am. And I’ve got no intention of saying goodnight any time soon.
I flip the heating on as I start the car. “Deal.”
By the time we’re back, fork lightning is tearing across the sky and rainwater is running down the street like a river.
He takes my hand and we run into his place, dashing up some stairs and through the front door.
I giggle as we both stand in his hallway with rain dripping off us, catching sight of the disaster that is my hair in the hall mirror.
He smiles at me slowly, focused entirely on me and my laugh, before he cups my face in his hands and pulls me close.
His movements are more confident now, though still hurried, albeit in a way that speaks of raw want rather than inexperience.
He pins my wrists above my head and devours my mouth.
He walks me backwards to his bedroom, peeling my wet clothes off and leaving them where they fall.
He falls on top of me the instant the back of my knees touch his bed, and his hands smooth over every part of me before returning to my wrists and holding them down again.
This is his third time having sex, and it’s an unexpected erotic jackpot to have been his first lover.
His need is keener, his enthusiasm wonderfully sharp.
Who wouldn’t want to be wanted this way?
But this time it’s fully brought home to me, from the conspicuously absent sounds of his enjoyment, that I am never going to hear this man tell me he loves me, or that he wants me, or that he wants to fuck me until I cry.
Not once. Having said that, the way his touch is still greedy rather than practised, his thrusts still more jerky and instinctual than finessed, tells me everything I could possibly want to know about how he sees me.
His body is saying everything his mouth can’t.
So I respond in kind. I take his face in my hands and guide his mouth back to mine, kissing him until our tongues glide and thrust in time with his cock.
I rub my nipples against his chest, knowing he can feel them all tight and hard even through his vest, swallowing his gasp and enjoying the mingling of our breath.
I tighten my walls around him, startled when this hurries along my own climax as well as his.
There is no more language barrier; this is one we can both speak.
Dean
“Gimme the remote, buttface,” Neroli growls playfully, “How I Met Your Mother is on.” She makes a grab for it, treating me like her brother instead of an invalid now enough time has passed that my wounds have closed.
Well, my physical wounds. It’s been four years since it happened, and I’m learning to exist with the inner ones, the grief, the terror that never quite passed.
The emotional wounds will always be open and raw.
I like moments like this. Bickering lightly with my little sister.
It’s a taste of normalcy, like working part time for my dad’s motor parts business, staying behind the scenes sourcing hard to find parts for his clients.
I can even summon up a silent chuckle as I hold the remote high above my head, making her reach for it.
I love this kid. She’s been so fierce about me, my recovery, chasing off strangers who tried to talk to me about Prom Night the few times I’ve gone out, and damn near barking at them like an angry Jack Russell.
She’s even stayed up with me sometimes when she’s found me awake and trembling in the kitchen, unable to sleep.
And when I started drinking and relying on diazepam a little too much - a lot too much - she’d sit with me and hold my hand, Mom on my other side, as I rode out the craving for some more.
Mom’s been amazing. Never judging me, but determined that this wasn’t going to be her son’s life, he wasn’t going to be strung out all the time.
I was mad at her at first, but I know she was right.
Mrs Oberman didn’t die so I could spend my time getting jacked up.
Neroli gives me a gentle jab in the ribs to get me to drop the remote, neatly catching it and changing channels with a smirk. She’s sixteen now, whip smart, and blessedly confident. She’ll go far, further than I ever could have even if Mr Whitmire hadn’t done what he did.
I sign to her, and her head turns immediately, watching carefully. You still gonna marry Ted? I ask, my hands slow and steady. We’ve learned ASL as a family, and we’re all able to get by. We’ll all be fluent before much longer.
She snorts. “Nah,” she scoffs, “I want Marshall. The way he looks at Lily? That’s what I want. Plus, don’t know if you’ve seen Forgetting Sarah Marshall , but I saw it at Riley’s - oh, don’t tell Mom and Dad, OK? - and his - ”
“We interrupt your regularly scheduled programming to bring you this breaking news,” the TV anchorman announces.
“A Wal-Mart in Palmetto, Louisiana was the site of a grisly mass shooting today, when a man dressed as DC’s The Joker opened fire inside the store, killing two and injuring several. Police shot him at the scene, and - ”
The next thing I know, my father is raising his voice to me, pulling on my hand.
It’s clasped around Neroli’s mouth, because we have to be quiet, we have to be silent as the grave.
I have to protect her. We have a chance in this cupboard, a small chance that maybe he won’t find us.
My hand is wet. Neroli’s crying, her tears covering my hand as she whimpers.
I’m holding her very tightly. He’s not getting her.
He’s not killing my baby sister. I won’t let him…