33
WHEN WE GET BACK, the apartment is cold and dark. Corrie is nowhere to be seen but she’s apparently had a late night snack and left a mess in the kitchen. I pad over to her room and check on her — she’s sound asleep.
I don’t turn on the lights. I enjoy the darkness, and the flickering light from the streetlamp outside. I plug the kettle in and reach for the cocoa in the cupboard. It’s brand new, never opened. I noticed it in the cupboard when we first got in, when I inspected every inch of this place; the DVDs and books on the bookshelf (a mix of different languages which I found fascinating), the food in the cupboard, and the toiletries in the washroom (European brands mostly). I was tempted to try the fancy French shampoo the first night, but was too afraid that some ill-intended psycho had put some Nair in it, and I’d find myself bald in Paris — the things that go through my mind. I really am a paranoid cynic.
Oscar is leaning against the counter, watching me. It’s dark but the light from the street brings his beautiful profile into view. He’s still upset, still remembering his brother.
I pour the boiling water into two whimsical cups, two tablespoons full of cocoa in each. Oscar erases the distance between us and snuggles up close against me. I stand still, enjoying the feel of him against me, the warmth of him. He wraps his large arms slowly around my waist, unsettling me a little. Heat fills my core. I close my eyes and enjoy his embrace.
He pulls from me, just a bit, and brings a hand to my hair. He’s gentle when he swipes my locks over my left shoulder, and presses his hot mouth against the back of neck. God, he knows right where to touch me.
“I need you,” he whispers, his breath hot on my skin.
I need him too.
I turn around and reach for his face. I press my hands against his jaw and draw him to me. Our lips meet and his kiss feels amazing. I want to get lost in him forever. His mouth tastes sweet and there’s an urgency about him, a desperate need that I haven’t felt with him before. It’s not sexual, it’s emotional, like he wants to get deep into my soul.
Or maybe it’s me. Perhaps I’m the one who wants to get deep inside him, peel all his layers. I don’t want any more secrets between us.
As we deepen the kiss, his hands travels to my neck, and he wraps them around my throat tightly. He’s never done this before, but it doesn’t scare me. I bury my hands in his hair and pull at it. He bites at my bottom lip as his hands travel down to my breasts, and down the length of my body. When he reaches my ass, he grabs me hard and lifts me up against him. I wrap my legs tightly around him, and he spins me around.
We find ourselves on the kitchen table where he presses his length against me. I so badly want him, but not here. Not with Corrie a few meters away. “Let’s… go to our room,” I whisper, breathless.
He carries me to our bed. Our room is dark too, but light filters through the sheer curtains covering the tall window. The bed is unmade and smells funny. The linens are cold on my back as Oscar presses me down on the mattress. He pulls from me, but I cling desperately to him. I don’t want him to leave me, even for a second. We get lost in another kiss, not in a hurry to get undressed. I bury my hand under his sweater and revel in the feel of his hot, soft skin. His mouth pulls from mine, and he stares at me for a long beat. I get lost in his dark eyes. “I can’t imagine my life without you,” he says. “Tell me you’ll always be there.”
I smile up at him. “I’ll always be there.”
“I’ll never hurt you.” He twirls a lock of my long hair between his fingers. “You’ve already been hurt too much. The thought of him hurting you like that drove me crazy. That he did it all those years ago, and he was still trying to hurt you years later… I just lost it.”
“I know…” I say, not quite knowing what else to say. I smile, brought back to that punch. “You really got him good. It was priceless. You did what I wanted to do all those years.”
He grins. “Well, someone had to put him in his place.”
I press a finger against his soft lips, not wanting him to ruin the moment. He lowers his head and presses his mouth against my collarbone. He traces a line of soft kisses along my skin, over my shoulder and down my arm. He’s usually so wild in bed, but I love it when he’s soft like this sometimes. He makes me feel loved, like no one else ever has. When I’m with Oscar, I feel beautiful and precious.
I want a turn too. I want to taste him, revel in him. I swing myself around and over him. I pull up his shirt and trail my tongue down the ridges of his abs. A low growl escapes him as he grabs my hair and pulls at it a little hard. When I reach his pants, I unbutton his fly slowly, teasing him. I dig into his boxers and wrap my mouth around him. I want to make him forget everything. I want to bring him pleasure. He throws his head back and groans loudly.
He wraps a hand tightly around my arm and pulls me up to him. “I want you,” he pleads. “I want to make love to you.”
I smile. “Yes, me too.”
Our lips meet again, and we slowly undress each other. I take in everything about him as I peel off his clothing; his smooth olive skin against my fair complexion. The hardness of him, and those soft spots too; his lower belly, his hands, his neck. I rake my hands through his thick locks, reveling in the softness of them, and when he stops for a beat and gazes into my eyes, I mark his beautiful almond shaped chocolate eyes to memory, afraid I might forget them one day. No matter what happens, I know I won’t.
He trails hot butterfly kisses along my collarbone and over the swells of my breasts, and his touch is soft and sweet as he gently peels off my polka-dot bra. My breasts are aching for his mouth. I arch my back, offering myself to him. When his tongue lands on my swollen nipple, I get lost in the pleasure of it. “I love the way you taste,” he breathes.
I throw my head back and reach for his hardness. I slip my finger under the waistband of his boxers, and slide them around his smooth hard ass. His moan gets lost in the warm underside of my breast. “I want to take all night,” I tell him. “I want this to last forever. No pain, no hurt, just pleasure.”
“Yes,” he whispers. “Pleasure… and love.”
“Yes,” I echo. “Pleasure and love.”
I long for us to be closer than we have ever been, to get completely lost inside each other, to forget about the world together. I pull off his boxers slowly, and he peels off my panties. When he sinks gently into me, I wrap my arm and legs around him and hold him tight. I don’t say the words, but I want him to know that he’s loved, that I’ll always be there for him.
Grief
Grief changes shape, but it never ends.— Keanu Reeves
Who knewthat Keanu Reeves was such a great philosopher? Sexy as sin, and wise too. He’s spot on with this quote. Grief is part of you until your last breath. Grief is a clingy little fucker. It never lets go.
