Late Valentine Ch. 03

'I think you're wonderful.'

His words punch my chest. I kneel up to take his face into my hands, to pepper him with kisses for being wonderful too. He leans into them, his quiet reminding me of the very first time we did this, in his sister's hotel. His hands move up my back, a low sound coming from his throat. I sit back.

'Open your eyes, Robbie.'

They're slashed dark with desire. I give him a sweet kiss on the mouth before asking him to stand up so I can divest him of his pants and underwear. I stand close to unbutton his shirt, letting the fabric of my dress graze his skin, against his thighs and over his cock, each touch interrupting his breathing pattern, until a small noise that could be a repressed laugh or gasp finally escapes into the stillness of my bedroom.

'Lisbeth.'

'I know. Unfair of me.'

'Hmm.'

But he doesn't look perturbed by the unfairness. Far from it.

'You like this? When I take the lead?'

'You know I do.'

I nod, pushing his shirt open, dragging the cotton across his nipples a couple of times, just for the sake of it. He watches and it's my turn to sigh at this torture of my own design, a tide of heat breaking over me. Abandoning the shirt for now, I coax his pants and underwear over his feet, feeling a greater intoxication from this than from the wine we drank over dinner.

Drawing in another long breath I slip out of my dress and stockings, the constancy of his gaze as real as the touch and brush of his fingers would be. He remains completely still, until he bends to graze his mouth over my neck. Just once, just enough to send sharp bolts of pleasure down my spine.

'What's next?' he asks.

Indeed. Great question. I cross my arms to take hold of the hem of my camisole, newly-purchased for this very moment, to take it off while I ponder the answer. He gets a hold of one of my wrists. Gently, almost tentatively.

'Can I ask one thing?'

'Yes, of course. What?'

'That you keep this on?' He fingers the black silk, lingering a little.

I reach to stroke his cheek. 'Of course.'

'Thank you,' and he drags two fingers along the underside of one breast before dropping his hand.

Everything about that patient gesture fills my heart and belly with longing, and I resolve to splash out even more money on lingerie. If all it takes is a little silk and lace to blow Rob's pupils to the size and depth of Lake Michigan, then count me in.

'I want to see you touch yourself again.' I smile, lifting my shoulders. 'I've been thinking about that a lot since London.'

'Have you?'

I shiver. He grins. A sudden, confident grin. 'You enjoyed that?'

'A whole lot, yes. Did you?'

'I did. Because you were watching. I've thought about it a great deal, too, Lisbeth.'

I hum at the notion, pleased by it.

'Where do you want me? Here -,' giving his cock a long, languid stroke that has my body contracting with desire, 'Or -?'

'On the bed. Please.'

He's already moving by the time the 'please' comes out of me, and his head inclines.

'I like that too. Being asked so politely,' the very corner of his mouth ticking upward.

+++

I slide onto her bed, acutely aware of her gaze, to sit with my back to the headboard just as on our last night together in my home -- the only woman I've taken there. The thought sits in my brain for a few seconds until I chase it away, because I am not going to spoil this moment by asking Elizabeth how many men have been here in her bedroom, in this bed.

No, instead, I'm going to do her bidding to please her, unable to resist that little catch in her voice or the pink flush blooming over her neck and cheeks. I palm my cock as she slides her underwear down her legs, imagining the slight resistance of the soft silk on her skin as she moves, feeling the resultant throb of blood under my hand. Her nipples peek, pink and excited, through the finely-made lace of her camisole, pressing against the threads when she bends and I bite on a groan as I imagine how each thread might slice into that sensitised flesh if pulled and tightened.

My grandfather died when I was fifteen; living long enough to be the strongest male influence of my life. I've often thought that the hours I'd spent by his side in his tailor's shop, running my hands over the bolts of fabric there were as formative as anything he ever said to me. The prickle of a nap rubbed the wrong way; the slip and slink of satins and nylons; the uneven nubbiness of silks and tweeds -- all of them had felt exciting and worldly to my boyish fingertips.

I resist the urge to ask Elizabeth to come closer for me to be able to run a hand over her beautifully textured skin, remembering that the game we're playing tonight is about me relinquishing control to her. My sigh is camouflaged by Elizabeth's lithe movements as she climbs onto the end of the bed, naked except for the delicate top.

'You look very good, Robbie, here on my bed,' she comments, a lick of naughtiness in her tone.

I lift my chin. 'Thank you.'

I give myself another long stroke, up, then down, watching her eyes track my movements. She crawls forwards, reaching into the drawer of the bedside table, retrieving a small bottle and dropping it on the bed.

'I bought this, in case -- you know -- I mean, it's new,' she flounders, looking as flustered as I've seen her.

I flip the cap open and hiss at the feel of the cool lube as I slick it down my cock. 'Good idea,' I affirm, tipping my head back to absorb the intense feeling already banking up in my abdomen.

She breathes in, the faint glottal stop in her throat louder here, in her quiet bedroom. I open my eyes to find her looking utterly absorbed by my hands as I move them with, perhaps, a bit more exaggeration than necessary.

'I love watching you.'

I squeeze myself, wanting this to last as long as possible. The glow on Elizabeth's face is captivatingly beautiful. She leans a little closer, then closer again, until she touches her lips to mine in a gentle promise, neither advancing nor retreating, but somewhere in-between. I ache to close the gap, to push into her, but remind myself to wait. Her kiss, when it comes, feels even sweeter and her moan sends sparks straight to my balls.

I slide a hand between her legs because I can no longer stop myself. She tips closer.

'Are you wet for me here?' I nudge my thumb higher.

'You know I am.'

I circle my thumb into her heat, following the movements of her hips, then going against them. But she pushes me away, moving out of reach.

'Oh no you don't, Rob,' she breathes the soft admonishment before returning my hand to my cock. 'Stop distracting me and show me more of this instead.'

'Mm,' I agree.

What else, but to oblige? Her lips part while she watches, fisting her hands by her sides as if resisting all temptation to touch me; all of her held taut, almost entirely unmoving.

'How does it feel?' Her flush deepens, and I appreciate her courage in asking.

'Exquisite,' I offer her. 'Because you're watching.'

She emits another of her lovely, throaty sounds that make me want to push her down to the bed and claim her; to mark her as mine in an almost overwhelming streak of possessiveness.

Just as I tighten my fist around myself in search of self-control, she moves in, lifting her legs to sit over my thighs, touching herself to the underside of my cock. All that heat and wet and promise sucks the air from my chest. She rocks into me before kneeling up and wrapping a hand around me. I hold onto her right hip, my fingers feeling for the raised freckles of her birthmark there, steadying her until we find our position.

She hesitates. 'I wasn't going to do this, but I can't resist you.'

As if that wasn't wonderful enough to hear she begins to press down, a tight, hot advance that squeezes over my crown, where she pauses, inhaling then exhaling, before taking more of me into her body. Sweat pops over my shoulders and at the base of my spine. I want, desperately, to hurry her, and yet I want it to last forever. I murmur her name.

She pauses a second time. 'Is this ok?'

'You're tight. I'm not going to last,' I warn her.

Her body contracts, as if to own me.

'Lisbeth,' I warn her again.

Her eyes drop shut and she eases herself downward until she's taken all of me, and we're as intimate as any two people can possibly be.

'I love this,' she says, a waver in her voice as if the words have broken free.

'I love this too,' I reply, stepping carefully around the word, yet wanting to say it and to have her hear it.

Strange what an easy word it can be to say. With Grace and Faith, it trips off my tongue, knowing it will land in safety, finding its place in a world where the strongest defences have been built from love. But with Ginny, it had become a word used in desperation, as if its repetition could make it happen, could force what I'd wanted into reality. Elizabeth relaxes, her body softening against mine and I slide my arms around her back. I'd wanted this feeling with Ginny so much it had hurt.

Elizabeth kisses the side of my neck, bringing me back to the sweet agony of my cock gripped by her body, my hips lifting instinctively to give her more. I wallow in the deliciousness of her skin under my palms and in the vibrations running through her. She whispers my name and it trips the switch.

'Lisbeth,' I breathe, 'Are you coming for me now?'

She moves so fast and hard, I almost lose my grip of her. I glory in the moment, in its suddenness and its beauty. Burnished coils of her hair unravel, falling around her pale shoulders with every hot heave of her body, the muscles in her thighs straining to pull us closer together.

'Open your eyes, Lisbeth,' I beg, greedy for every molecule of her I can get.

Her gaze is out of focus, soft and brown and dark. I reach for her face just as I reach the edge of surrender, my name on her lips as I release everything from a place that feels deeper and more intrinsic than before. I slide us down the bed, holding her hips hard until I've given her every last drop of me, emptying myself in a deafening rush, only gradually becoming aware of sounds -- harsh breaths and uneven groans -- that must be us.

I fling an arm wide, seeking the cool crispness of the sheets, whilst holding her securely with the other, not wanting her to move. Not able to let her go -- that's a more accurate statement -- although with that, comes the unwelcome truth it's only a matter of hours before I have to leave her to fly home. I shut the thought down, and instead, concentrate on stroking her back, half-listening to the night sounds of the unfamiliar city outside, half-stunned by the intensity of what's just passed between us.

+++

I drowse for a long while, too blissed to move, the slow, regular thud of his pulse like a hypnotic beat I can't get enough of. After a while, though, my mind inevitably begins to fill back up with all kinds of random stuff; snippets of conversations from the last couple of days that begin to resolve until I'm back in Antonio's kitchen, burning with my need to confess.

'What is it?'

Rob sounds sleepy but, again, I marvel at his uncanny ability to sense my change of mood. I roll over onto my back.

'How do you do that?'

'What?'

'Read my mind.'

The mattress moves under us as he props himself up onto one elbow to look at me. 'I can't. I've no idea what you're going to say, Lisbeth, just that you're working up to saying it.'

'Well, that then. How do you do that?'

He tips his head. 'I don't know. Just don't ask me to guess what's on your mind. It's too much like a trick question to be fair.'

'No tricks, Robbie. But -- I guess there is something I want to tell you, even if I'm not sure why it feels so important that you know. It just is.'

He rubs a hand across his eyes and down over his stubble in an everyday sort of gesture that nevertheless sends a shiver down my back. There's a real, sexy man in my bed, and for a second or two, I want to chase that lovely reality far more than pursue this conversation.

'Ok.' He waits a few beats, giving me time to get my act together.

'So -- me and Antonio. You already know he was my one-time, serious boyfriend, and I guess the reason we broke up is obvious now that he's married to Seth.' I check Rob's face before plunging onward. 'And if it wasn't enough that the truth of his sexuality was something we kept secret between us for years, there were -- are -- other secrets too.' I pause, folding and refolding the cotton of the comforter between my fingers.

'I think all relationships have secrets, don't they?'

'Maybe, yes. I don't know. I guess some secrets come with greater debts than others.'

He makes a sound of encouragement.

'So one of our secrets is that we were engaged. It doesn't sound like much now, but back then, it would've been a huge deal for our families. Antonio's family were never fond of me. I think they thought I was going to be too much of a career woman for him. Or, more accurately, to be the traditional stay-at-home wife they wanted for him.' I pull my shoulders in, the memories feeling awkward, as if they don't quite fit anymore. 'And my mom -- well -- she wanted me to "do better" than Antonio.'

'Harsh.'

'That's my mom, alright.'

'And you were planning to get married?'

'Yes. Yes, we were. It wasn't a fake thing -- although since then, I've thought it was maybe why Antonio wanted it so much. You know -- to prove his heterosexuality once and for all to his family?'

'He didn't think they'd be open to anything else?'

'No. And he's been proven right, unfortunately. Out of his whole family, only his youngest brother talks to him now.'

Rob's sigh is low and disappointed.

'It's hard for him. To this day, it's so hard for him to live without their support.' I sit up. 'It still makes me wild with anger they disowned him like that.'

'Did you always know?'

'That's he's bisexual? Yes, it was, like, our third or fourth conversation. We met in our freshman year at college and we were practically inseparable from the get-go. Both of us needed a port in the storm, you know?'

'What happened?'

'I think it got too much for him. We were in our senior year, making choices about law schools and trying to imagine being adults, and he was struggling with whether he could be a good husband to me for the rest of his life when he was also attracted to men. It sounds naïve, and maybe it was, but I guess the simple truth of it is, I wasn't the one for him -- male or female. So we broke up. But,' and I drag air into my lungs, 'but then we found out I was pregnant.'

I steal another quick look at him. He meets my eyes.

'We talked and talked about what to do, and in the end, we made appointments with the priest and the abortion clinic.' I laugh without humour. 'That's how young we were; thinking we could weigh it up like that.'

'What did you choose?'

I stare down at his hand resting over the top of mine. One of his nails has a dark shadow across it, as if he's caught it in a door.

'An abortion, Rob. I chose to have an abortion, and I want you to be clear about that.' I swallow. It's bitter, but he needs to know my truth. 'The irony is, I miscarried anyway.'

'I'm sorry.'

I try in vain to smooth out the creases I've made in the comforter. 'So am I. Everything about that time was awful. It was as if we were bingeing on all the ways our hearts could be broken.'

'Antonio stuck it out with you, did he?'

'Yes. He's a good person, Rob. At one point he even tried to insist we get married anyway. But it was too late. Or too broken. Or something. In fact, the only thing I could be sure of was that I couldn't bring a baby into the world right then.'

'I'm so sorry,' he says again, sitting up, bringing his body's warmth with him.

I link my arms around my raised knees. 'I don't really know why I've felt I needed to tell you all that, except it felt like I couldn't go on without you knowing.'

He curls a long arm around my back, holding it there loosely. 'And now I know. Thank you for telling me.'

'And that's it?'

'That's it. What did you expect?'

I look into his face. 'I don't know.' The comforter is scrunched up in my fist again. 'Something more -- dramatic? Rejection, or at least some disappointment.'

He hugs me to his side a little, and I let him, while his silence gives me the space to say more.

'It's why my relationship with my mom and sister is so horrible, Robbie. I made the mistake of confiding in my sister when I was at a real low point, and she blew that all sky high by telling our mom. I might as well have had the abortion for all the hate they heap on my head. Even now.'

'Because of their religious beliefs?'

I nod.

'You're shaking. Here, come here,' and he gathers me up into a bundle where I burrow into his warmth. His hands feel big as they rove across my back and into my hair. 'Look, we're both at an age where we have a fair amount of history. I'm not going to condemn you for yours.'

'No?'

'No. It sounds like it was a difficult time full of hard choices.'

I listen to my own breathing for a while, eventually recognising the feeling inside me as relief. I sit with that, blinking rapidly before tuning into his breathing, the rise and fall of his chest under my cheek so fulsomely human.

'Thank you,' I whisper.

He's quiet as he coaxes me into lying down beside him until his body is pressed along the length of mine, his chest to my back, his head above mine on the pillows.

'This is going to happen, Elizabeth, as we discover more about each other.'

I think about that for a few minutes, suddenly marvelling at the familiarity of my bedroom against the total unfamiliarity of a man's body being here next to me in this bed; the newness of Rob's presence contrasting with the strength of my lonely yearning for him over these last weeks.

'You mean we're going to find things out we don't like?'

'Maybe. Although I hope that won't be the case. No, I mean we've both got a lot of life that we're going to have to learn about -- the things we're proud of, or that have hurt us. People we've loved. Places we avoid. Everything.'

I hum to myself, weighing up what to say next, eventually going for optimism. 'So, we're going to find out 'everything' about each other, are we?'

'If you're agreeable,' he replies comfortably.

'I am.'

'Good.'

'So, you liked Chicago?'

'I like you, Elizabeth.'

'Oh.' I blink in the dark. 'I'm relieved to hear it, since I like you too.'

'We're going to do this again.'

'Are we?'

He kisses the back of my head which I take as a 'yes'.

'Ok, then. I guess that's great, since I need to find somewhere to live in London soon.'

'Yes?'

'Hm. Work can help, but I figure I already know a guy who knows about property there and could help me out.' I let the words hang out there.

'How true.'

I smile into the pillow and wriggle a little, suddenly exhausted and welcoming the first hints of sleepiness.

+++

I wake up unusually slowly, confused for a few seconds about the annoying buzzing and the tender pain in my lower back. It's only as the announcement penetrates more thoroughly that I understand I'm still on the flight home to London. And, unfortunately, there's turbulence in our near future, hence the co-pilot's mid-western drawl crawling into my head and the flutter of cabin crew in the aisles checking on their passengers. I fumble for the belt and clasp, sucking in air at the sharper pain in my back from the movement. A visit to the osteopath and much more swimming need to be in my near future too.

I run my hand along the lip of the window as I turn over memories of the weekend. It already feels far away; barely credible it was only today we'd been in Elizabeth's bed, her kitchen and then her bed again. Because breakfast had taken a while. And we'd needed more of each other afterwards, right up until it was time for me to get into a cab, telling her I didn't want her to come with me to the airport as I hate goodbyes. Just those words flying thoughtlessly out of my mouth has given me a lot to think about since then.