Lost Time Ch. 06

Small southern towns either keep secrets too well, or let loose with that which is no one's business without restraint. On a trip to the grocery store, Chris back at the house showering, three people stopped me to ask about my new beau. These were all people associated with the ex, Mike, so I made sure to tell them that I was very happy with the new boyfriend. In fact, happier than I had ever been.

The last days that Chris was there, we spent mostly in bed, in some state of undress or another, either cuddling or making love. It was heaven.

I wasn't ready to see him go. We were very quiet on the way to the airport, other than briefly telling one another that it sucked that today had arrived so quickly. Our good bye was quick on purpose, and I drove away, watching him in the rear view as he waited in line to check his bags until he was out of sight. Somehow, I managed to keep from crying. I would save those tears for later.

I almost did not return to the house. I dreaded it, but knew that I could not just stay away for the day. It would be unhealthy for me to do so. I needed to get used to being alone again for the time being. Besides, there was nowhere I wanted to be at the moment, even at home, but home was the best place to be when nowhere else seemed good enough.

As I pulled up to the house, I was surprised, unpleasantly, at the sight of the blue pick up truck that waited there. Mike, the ex, leaned against the tailgate, his arms crossed over his chest, eyes dark blue with fury.

I stepped out of the car. "What are you doing here?"

"Just wanted to hear it from you," he shot back. "Who's the new boyfriend?"

"I did not know that I was supposed to answer to you," I replied, slamming my car door shut. Something in his eyes was unsettling.

"I have tried for a long time to win you back. We are meant to be together, and this is what you do?" He took several steps toward me, and I stepped back. Mike, like most people, towered over me, and his sudden advance only increased my unease.

"We aren't meant for anything together. I would appreciate it if you left right now, or I will call the police." I reached into my purse, as if to get the cell phone, though it lay, turned off, inside the house.

With one leap, he had tackled me. I hit the ground with a force that knocked the wind out of me, and before I knew it, he had a hand on my throat, squeezing.

I struggled, using a free hand to pull his head back by the hair, though it did little for me. Fear would have overwhelmed me if anger had not gotten there first, but the anger did little to help against someone so much bigger and stronger. And out here, no one would hear me scream.

I felt lightheaded, his intent eyes a blur to me as my vision swam. My struggles were weakened by the lack of air, and I fought only to breathe after a few moments. Then, it all went black.

When I came to, I was still on the ground. The first thing I saw was a yellow taxi, parked only a few feet away. Coughing and sputtering, I blinked and looked up, for there were voices coming from somewhere above, and I was shocked to see that Chris was there, punching Mike while the cab driver held him.

I passed out again.

Mike was unconscious by the time the cabbie called the police, muttering in his Cajun accent that Mike was not a man. Chris, his lip bloodied, was at my side when I came to again. "I decided that I'm moving here, and wanted to come back and tell you," he was saying, eyes filling with tears. "I'm so glad I did. Jesus. Are you okay, sweetie?"

"Am now," I choked out.

It was not until hours later, when the police reports were filled, and when the cabbie was invited out for drinks in a few days in thanks, that anything sank in. Chris and I were in the living room, cuddled quietly on the love seat, when I asked him, "What made you change your mind when you did?"

"Watching you drive away," he said quietly. "I changed the flight so that I could go back next week, and figured I would discuss moving down here with you now. I can't make you give up a career. I can transfer schools. Aside from that, Mom told me I needed to be with you here. That meant a lot to me."

"I love you."

"I love you too."

Though my neck was bruised and I still felt a little shell shocked, I leaned over and kissed him, my arms tightening around him. "I'm so glad you changed your mind." I let my lips trail down his throat. "You saved my life."

"And mine," he whispered, his hand drifting down to the small of my back while the other played with my hair.

The kisses were growing more and more heated, and he stopped once my hand rested on the growing bulge in his pants. "Are you up to this?"

"Be gentle," I replied. I wore no underwear or pajamas under the bathrobe, and felt the terrycloth grow damp.

He slid his hand under the robe, fingers sliding along my wet pussy. I shuddered, relishing in the feel of his fingers as he gently manipulated me, a finger sliding in, then out, and rubbing over my clit. I began to unbutton his pants, but he stopped me. "Let me please you."

I could only nod, meeting his gaze and parting my legs further for him. He untied the robe with one hand, the other still playing with me, and then slid to the floor on his knees.

My heart raced. As his tongue played warmly over my clit, he moved two fingers into me, wiggling them gently without pulling them out. I think I melted.

His lips pulled at the engorged nub, suckling it, fingers always moving, even as they pumped slowly in and out of me. I think I told him it felt so good, but words were easily lost in a moan of pleasure, and the orgasm came more quickly than I imagined it might. My hips raised to press tight against his face as I quivered through the orgasm.

He looked up at me with a little smile, lips and chin glistening with my juices. "Stay right there."

"I won't run, trust me."

He stood, sliding out of his pants, cock poking out, hard and thick. Kneeling with a leg either side of me, my face pressed to his warm chest, he slowly began to fuck me.

The slow thrusts were thorough, pushing as far into me as he could go, then sliding out almost completely. More than the hard rabbit thrusts or the dirty talk, this feeling was too arousing. I pressed my hips up, but he was in total control, and kept the slow, steady pace, smiling down at me wickedly, his hands tight on my shoulders as he whispered, "Let me just feel you... appreciate you."

I hitched my legs around his waist, whimpering as he let me feel and relish in every inch of him.

I came harder than I ever had in my life. He never quickened the pace, and one orgasm followed the first, the second punctuated by the sudden throb of his cock inside of me. He gasped, tense, the gasp followed by a sharp moan. I could feel him coming inside of me, and it was the most beautiful thing in the world.

Afterward, we lay wrapped around one another on the love seat, never speaking, simply enjoying.

In the end, Chris moved in with me, and within a year, he had dropped out of school to open up his own bar.

We were married a year after that.

Is it any surprise that the first song played at the reception was "Ten Years Gone"?