Forevermore Ch. 01

Her cell phone buzzed.

It was Darren Fleiss, her editor. He was also her day drinking companion when she was in New York. Belinda was sure that he was calling to check on her progress. She swiped the green button, "Took you long enough."

"Ugh, don't you start too. I figured everyone would be up your ass when you first got out."

They had been. Belinda just hadn't answered the phone.

He continued, "So tell me how rehab was. Did you have a fabulous time?"

"They don't have good drugs there, I'll tell you that much," Belinda said as she buttered a cracker. "Which is surprising you know, because I kind of thought they'd have the best."

"One day at a time?" Darren asked with a laugh.

"Let go and let god," Belinda answered back, as if it really were the answer.

"Well, next time don't burn down your house," he chided her.

"Fuck, I wasn't trying to burn down the house," she said with a laugh. "If Trish just didn't have such shitty taste in clothes."

"She has shitty taste in men, too," Darren was quick to add.

"Hey, he was my husband first."

"Yeah, well you're better off."

Belinda found herself agreeing. At the moment, she was actually glad that she wasn't Mrs. White anymore. It was one more alias that she could do without.

"So you want to know how the book's coming?"

"Well that and to make sure that you didn't turn into one of those sober people that we hate."

They both cracked up.

"No I'm definitely not sober," she admitted as she reached for a cigarette. "But writing is good." At least someone's writing was good.

"Good?" Darren didn't want to doubt her but he had known about the dry spell.

Belinda puffed and tried to imagine his face if she told him the truth. No, not even Darren would like her through that. "No, actually it's really good. If I stay on it, I should have something for you by the end of the month."

He whistled and Belinda could sense his relief. As much money as Fantasia Fox made for the publishing house, she would have thought that there would be a grace period. She had half expected a little respite for craziness when life handed her lemons but she had discovered that the machine was always churning.

"In fact, I better get back to it," Belinda said quietly. Two more books and they were free.

"You hang in there sweetheart," Darren told her as he signed off.

Back to the keyboard. Back to the rhythm, the unearthly rhythm that was steady as a drumbeat. Belinda had always had fits and starts with writing. Even when it flowed, it was always a lull and then she raced to keep up. This pace was something new and clearly not under her control.

Pages and pages later, Belinda heard the chime of the alarm. She and the force that drove her fingers seemed to sigh with relief. That was enough, she was empty and hungry and hollowed out.

Belinda ordered carry out from the Horse. A bacon cheeseburger with everything and an enormous order of fries would help put a little weight on her. She could barely keep up her shorts and the tee shirt swam on her. One glance in the mirror on her way out and she thought she had seen a ghost.

She poured one glass of bourbon with a steady hand when she came back. Belinda felt good even if she looked like shit.

"You're breathtaking," his voice was so close. His lips were on her earlobe and sent a wave of need down her shoulders.

She smiled and blushed. She wanted to be beautiful for him.

As sore as she'd been earlier, there was an undeniable twinge, a longing, between her legs. It had been a while, actually a really long while, but Belinda was horny. All of this foreplay had kept her on edge for far too long. Yes, it was incredible. Her whole body melted with his touch, his kiss, but now she wanted more.

"I need you to do something for me," he murmured. It felt as if he'd just tucked her hair behind her ear. He was so close, his lips right there on her pulse.

"Anything," Belinda gave herself over to him completely. She'd already bled, she wasn't even terrified of it anymore.

"Bring a lover home." He seemed torn about it though, the words didn't come naturally or easily. "Bring a man to your bed."

"Is that really what you want?" Belinda shivered, the cold settled in around her once more. It was a sure sign of him, the boiling hot center and ice cold edges.

He was fierce, his voice could tear her apart and there was something heartbreaking underneath it. "It will be torture for me," he whispered it, "but I can see no other way."

"No other way for what?" Belinda held her arms and rocked. She rubbed her hands together and wished he was here, really here to hold her hands.

"To give you what you desire," his voice was the ebb and flow. It was the tide that kept time, it was the rhythm that brought her to him.

"So I should just go and pick someone up?" Belinda gulped. She was suddenly nervous and her throat was dry. Truth be told, she was jealous of Fantasia Fox because she was a vixen. Fantasia was the confident, devil may care, slightly slutty alter ego that Belinda never let herself be. Secretly, she still felt like the awkward girl that had always had her nose in her books.

If she was really honest, she'd admit that as much of a toolbag as Steven was, she'd always been flattered that someone as handsome as him had picked her.

"Nonsense, my darling," he read her thoughts, Belinda kept forgetting. "You are perfect."

"Does it matter who it is?" she wondered. This was new territory. She didn't remember the last time she fucked a stranger and did that mean that he would watch?

Oh Jesus.

"He should be virile," the voice was calm, as if this was nothing out of the ordinary, like it wasn't even the slightest bit totally fucking insane. "You should enjoy him," the voice went on, as if he were touching her; perhaps touching himself as he imagined it. "My beautiful Belinda, you should desire him," he murmured and she felt his spell on her skin. His fingers stirred every sensation deep inside, even if it was just in her mind. "Please, do this for me," he requested.

Belinda nodded, she'd committed already. It was the kinkiest sounding thing, by far, that she'd ever done. Fucking a stranger while her lover watched? Jesus, worse than that, the stranger was sure to see the marks on her body. Edgar had ravished her, she was scratched and bitten all over. She was owned, marked. Possessed.

She went to the bathroom and pushed the plug into the drain. Belinda had stocked up on her favorite vanilla scented bubble bath and poured some into the hot water. She gave half a smile as she lit some candles as well. Might as well make her slutty experiment romantic, right? What would Fantasia Fox do?

Belinda undressed and tossed her clothes aside. She sank down into the bubbly water and watched as her breasts were covered in foam. She closed her eyes and felt the warmth penetrate her body. As she drifted away, she could almost feel his hands in her hair. She could almost feel him bare her neck for him. She could almost feel his lips. Those soft lips, lips that could be so tender, so sweet, and then so savage and so hungry.

"You'll have all of me soon enough, Belinda," his voice caressed her. "And I will have my angel." The chill settled around her body and her nipples rose to eager points. Belinda wondered if it was the temperature at all or if his voice wasn't enough at this point.

She washed her hair and felt the water trail through her thick, black mane and ran down her back. She passed the bubbles down her milky white limbs as she washed her arms and legs. She even washed between her toes. Why not get squeaky clean, right? She shrugged and set her chin on her knees.

When was the last time she'd had sex? The better question was when was the last time she'd had sex sober? She slapped the bath water and rolled her eyes at that one. Tonight wasn't the time to start taking all this one day at a time shit seriously. Even perfectly normal people got fucked up when it was time to do the deed. The horizontal mambo, Belinda added with a fit of giggles.

She rose from the tub and took the plug out with her toes. It was as good of an excuse as any to get a little shit faced. And she'd been such a good girl lately. Belinda could feel the giddiness rise up inside, her heart beat a little faster thinking about the drink. Fuck, she craved it. She could smell it from here and it was much too far away.

Belinda could feel his chill and his heat fondle her naked, dripping skin. It felt like fingers everywhere, cupping her breasts, sliding down her hips and drawing her close. Pulling her body into the center of his fire and Belinda wondered if he wasn't hard there for her. It was a possessive move. A man who stroked a woman like that and drew her close would be ready to take her, all of her. "Not tonight, my darling." It was an instruction, a command and his voice made the hair on the back of her neck rise up.

Pick up a stranger stone cold sober?

"I can't," Belinda whispered to the steam, "I really can't."

The squeak startled her and Belinda's eyes went to the mirror. Letters were forming, condensation was dripping down the mirror as something ice cold collided with something warm and melting.

"DO IT FOR ME." The words were there. She wasn't imagining this. Hell, she wasn't even half in the bag, there was no other excuse. He didn't even say please, Belinda felt her lips twist up into a sarcastic smile. They really were more alike than either of them would probably ever admit to.

Belinda was quick as she finished her preparations. Her hair was combed and loose. It shone in the light and it looked like wet ink pouring down her shoulders. She had underwear and a bra on, which was an improvement. As she swiveled her hips in front of the mirror, she thought she looked cute in her old Rolling Stones shirt and Levi's. With a tiny bit of mascara and a glimmer of gloss on her lips, Belinda looked at the finished product with a smirk.

She wasn't the blonde bombshell that posed for paparazzi and gave autographs. She was just Belinda, but not bad, considering. As she paused to grab her house keys, Belinda could hear the voice, the rolling baritone that made her sigh with desire.

"Hurry back, my love."

***

She had struck out at the Cat's Eye Pub. Sure, there had been a couple of not totally hideous men in there but her instructions were that she should desire the lucky winner of the weirdest threesome ever. Desire, she had thought with her upper lip curled. No, not exactly.

At the Slainte Irish Pub, Belinda had looked around carefully as she took a seat in the back corner. She needed to have a good view, she told herself. Yes, she was here to get laid but that didn't mean she wanted to talk to any of them. A nice enough looking middle-aged man had stopped by and asked if he could buy her next drink.

"Oh, I'm just drinking Coke," she told him with an embarrassed smile.

"Well how are you going to have a good time then?" He clasped her shoulder and Belinda shrugged it away.

Belinda went outside to smoke and as she took a deep, satisfied drag she thought the fucker actually had a legitimate point. What were the odds that she'd be able to pick up anyone if she wasn't even at least a little hammered? Belinda didn't even flirt, not really, she smirked, she made sarcastic comments. Finding a desirable man while sober was becoming mission impossible.

Then she saw him across the street. The Viking boy. She thought of the liquor store delivery guy as a boy although he was a man. At nineteen or possibly twenty, Belinda felt like "boy" was really much more accurate.

She crossed the street and waved to him. It didn't even matter that he wasn't old enough to buy a beer because she wasn't drinking anyway. He was old enough to get a boner and that was all that she needed. Belinda bet that he had a nice looking cock because the rest of him was damn fine.

"Hey," she greeted him with a smile. "I recognize you from the liquor store. You delivered my bourbon the other day." God, she was awkward.

"Oh, yeah," he gave her a nod. He was taller than her, close to six feet. His hair and beard were both brown. If Belinda were going to be seen with him anywhere, she'd request that he shave but at the moment, it didn't matter. His chest was broad and the lines of his pecs were clearly delineated through his tight, white tee shirt. His ass and thighs were thick, blue collar and well muscled. Belinda could easily picture her hands wrapped around his cheeks while he thrust. "How are you?" he asked, absently, like he had no idea what else to say.

Belinda gulped hard, might as well go big or go home. "Horny." She looked him in the eye, it was as direct as she'd ever been.

"Cool," he nodded.

Belinda wanted to roll her eyes but instead, she asked in a breathless voice, "Want to come over?"

"Totally," he nodded.

"I'm Belinda, by the way," she offered her hand.

"Chris," he shook her hand officially. His fingers were the rough, calloused fingers of a blue collar man. He smelled like soap though, no cologne, just soap and maybe yeasty like beer. He'd smell clean and his sweat would feel good on her skin.

"Nice to meet you," Belinda smiled and pointed north. "Follow me."

They made some strained small talk on the way. No kissing, no hand holding, it was almost as if Chris the Viking knew that there was more to this invitation than met the eye. This is so fucking weird, Belinda thought as they got closer and closer to her front door.

And would Edgar make an appearance? They crossed the street and Belinda reached into her Chanel backpack for her house keys. Would Chris feel the freezing cold swirl of otherworldly breath around his bare body? Would he see a pair of gray, wolfish eyes that shone through the dusk? Would he hear the man's voice with the familiar cadence from a poem about long lost love?

Or, Belinda thought as she pushed the key into the lock, would absolutely nothing happen at all and then she'd just know that she was crazy as a bed bug?

Nothing waited for them in the entry. Belinda wondered how many women her age had invited Chris the Viking over since he'd started to deliver liquor. She set her backpack on the table in the hallway and slipped off her sandals. She felt like a pervert as she ogled him up and down. He had impressive triceps and an L shape in the backs of both arms. She could see the ripples of his abs through the shirt. He was carved of stone, a statue to male perfection so what the fuck was wrong with her that she felt absolutely nothing?

Belinda had already fallen. Crazy, alcoholic Belinda, nerdy, weird Belinda, was halfway in love with a ghost poet who had left his mark on her. He had carved his name with his nails on her body and she wanted more.

Well, he told her to get someone she found attractive and she'd done it sober as well. Belinda asked in a shy voice, "Want to come to my bedroom?"

"Definitely," he murmured. As she led him there, he wrapped his chiseled arms around her waist. His abs were marble and his cock was hot and pushed to get at her through his jeans.

They entered the bedroom and candles were lit everywhere. Belinda could feel her heart beating triple time because she hadn't left it like this, this pyromaniac's idea of ambiance. It was Edgar. The moment that she thought his name, the chill rushed down her body, like someone had suddenly opened a window and let the winter wind inside. He was here.

"You really are sexy," the Viking whispered and turned Belinda around to face him. "I'm glad you asked me over," his beard ticked her neck as he kissed her throat.

"Oh good, thanks," Belinda was a jumble of nerves and wondered where Edgar was. Is he right behind us? Is he between us? She had never needed a drink more.

Chris the Viking tugged at the hem of her Rolling Stones tee shirt and pulled it up over her head. Stop, don't you feel him watching? She wanted to ask but then that just sounded crazy. What did Edgar want anyway? Did he want to watch someone fuck her the way that he wished he could? Did he just like to watch? Belinda held herself as Chris unhooked her black bra and threw it down.

Better question, didn't Edgar know her enough to understand that the only man she'd be thinking about was him?

"Yes, my love," came the whisper in the wind. It was him and her breath was frosty. The wind rustled her hair and crept down her bare back as Chris the Viking bowed his head. The delivery boy licked his way from the top of her cleavage to the crease below her breasts.

"Great tits," he lapped around one areola and she felt it throb as it hardened on his slippery tongue.

Belinda hung her head back and felt the fingers make their way through her hair. The burning hot fingers were strong and demanding. They grabbed at her back and set every nerve on fire as they fondled her. Fingers that teased and wound around her other nipple until it was an aching point of need.

God, two men touched her at the same time and Belinda shivered as two totally different hands were on her skin. Belinda felt the hands that knew her better than any other hands before rub her crotch through her jeans. Fuck, and she was instantly wet and she pushed her hips up. She was needy for more and she groaned.

"You are horny, aren't you?" Chris asked and moved his calloused hand down between her legs as well. He exhaled deeply and his hot breath covered her chest. There was that scent of his soap and his musky, male scent as he rubbed her pussy. The Viking grabbed a handful of Belinda.

Didn't he feel the other hand underneath? Belinda wasn't sure if she was going to cum or going to scream as the two touches continued. Her panties were wet and her clitoris pounded, erect and pulsing. It wanted to be rubbed and Edgar knew exactly what it needed and how to find it. Belinda shuddered as he touched her. Was it just the tips of his fingers or was it his breath that made her body radiate with heat and need?

"I gotta get your pants off," Chris opened the button and the zipper of her jeans.

"Yes, Belinda," the voice whispered as Chris helped her, one foot at a time, from her pants.

"And these panties," the delivery boy groaned. As he was on his knees, he stared at the last piece of clothing, the last barrier between her and his cock pounding inside.

Belinda cried out as he removed the panties and the fingers delved along her hips. They dipped into her crack and pried apart her cheeks. They eased down her damp crevice and stroked her sensitive flesh.

Chris got to his feet. His hand was still there on her mound now and he clasped it and growled. "Your pussy is wet," he said and one finger traced along the line that parted her lips.

"So lovely, my darling," Edgar whispered as the fingers penetrated her forcefully and fully.

Belinda shrieked and then moaned as she melted into the fingers. Fuck it was good and a trickle of her lust ran down her thigh. She ached for it. God, she needed to be fucked senseless, fucked until she couldn't move, couldn't speak.

"Anything you want," the voice promised as it thrust mercilessly inside.

"Fuck, it sounds like you're ready," Chris the Viking made haste to get undressed. His shirt and jeans were off in a flash. He pushed the front of his boxers down with one hand and his eyes all over Belinda. "You want that cock, don't you?" he muttered.

Belinda sank to the bed, her hair fanned out beneath her, the waves of impulse ran down her body. Yes, yes of course she wanted the cock, Belinda thought. What she really needed, what would make her absolutely explode in a climax that would engulf her whole body was the feel of Edgar and his voice and his words while the cock was inside. She needed her ghost lover.

"Yes," she whispered to Chris. Fingers pulled at her nipples and mouths sucked her thighs. Belinda was dripping wet and trembling. Underneath it all, there was the sound of a heart beating. The tremor of life. It vibrated, it exploded. It came from the house, it came from the walls, it was loud and demanding.