I'll be back next week, in a new year, to start and bring this story down to its conclusion.
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Chapter Twenty
Trust…is a fragile thing
My shirt landed on the floor minutes ago, the straps of her dress teeter on the edges of her shoulders, just one little flick of my fingers, and they’re down. Against her lips, I take in a deep breath as her hands play against my shoulders, running around my neck, down my back, and up again.
The heat between us causes the small wisps of hairs at her temples to dampen. I know we need to slow down, but I can’t. It’s physically impossible for me to stop kissing her, stop touching her—stop feeling her. Her lips part, and I begin the dance over again. Hungrily I lick at the warmth of her mouth, the taste and feel of her, so soft, so pliant. I groan in frustration of wanting her so much.
A moment later, she breaks the kiss and pants for air, pressing her face into the crook of my neck and I smile. I haven’t made out like this since I was seventeen, and it feels great. Without much thought, I step back, slip my one arm around her back and the other hooking under her knees, effectively lifting her from the counter.
“Where are you taking me?” she asks, breathless. I tilt my head and brush a kiss against her shoulder and tell her, “Into the living room, it’s more comfortable there.”
Settling her in my lap, her legs draped across mine, I pull her back into a greedy kiss. Her lips are swollen, her breath ragged, and her breasts brushes across my bare chest, I suck in a hiss of air. Even through the thin fabric of her bra I can feel her nipples pebble upon contact. I ache to touch them, to kiss them, to play with them, but that will have to wait. As much as it pains me, I can’t risk doing too much, and scaring her off.
Liz settles her arms around my neck, and kisses me in earnest. I can feel her inexperience, which if I think too fully into it; I should question. Right now nothing matters but her lips, her body, just—her.
I can’t explain it, and even if I replay my conversation with Isabel, I know that kissing Liz, being this close to her, is better than anything I’ve felt. And I feel guilty for it.
Maybe I shouldn’t but I do.
“Max—” she pants out, pressing her palm against my chest and I push back a little to regard her.
“What’s wrong?” She looks so unsure, and a part of me is trying to think, trying to clear the sexual haze she created. I rush in a lungful of air, and realize that I never did accept her apology. In addition to which, I realize she needs some security in this step we’re taking. Funny, how those uncertain feelings I can read off of her in crystal clear waves.
I take satisfaction in knowing that I can tell when she is uncertain, or truly and deeply sorry for something. It’s written all over her features, and at least in that aspect I don’t have to guess what’s on her mind.
I eye her carefully, wrap an arm around her, and lean over to the end table. I bring the box around and open it for her again; she peers down inside, and tries to hide her smile. How can I stay mad at her? It’s harder than I want to try.
I remove the necklace and place it on her, she fingers it gently and offers me a smile. Her eyes speak volumes. I watch as her eyes close and she moves in, I can’t wait to feel her again.
Capturing her face between my hands, I let her take the lead, and all I can say is she is a quick learner. However, I realize in just a few short minutes I could have her ready for something she’s not ready for.
I’ve concluded that I am ready for Liz, to be with her that way. And the reason for it nags at my conscience, but I thrust it back to the black depths of things I wish not to think about now.
Liz requires love, and if I’m not ready to give that to her, then taking her physically would only make this situation more difficult.
Pulling away, she lets out a small grumble; I can’t help but smile and place a kiss on the tip of her nose.
“There’s something we need to talk about, something you said before that I need to make you understand,” I pause and lift the straps of her dress up, covering her from my wandering eyes.
She doesn’t say a word, just watches my fingers glide up her arms, taking her straps and placing them back in their place. Then her eyes connect with mine and I can see the relief in them.
Yet another thing that gives me pause, she’s obviously not used to making out heavily, nor is she comfortable without all of her clothing on. It’s probably because of the pregnancy and how it’s changed her body, but why is she shy around me? I’ve never seen her any other way. I met her pregnant, but heeding my mother’s lecture on women, pregnancy and hormones, I realize that I’m probably reading far too into this.
Focusing back on her, I elaborate, “You mentioned that while we hadn’t officially declared it, that we were dating.” She nods and nibbles on that sweet bottom lip, I groan in frustration—sexual frustration.
“I’m sorry if I didn’t declare it in a way that you needed me to. We have a lot to learn about each other, but on this topic, this level, understand that what we are doing here is more than having a child—at least to me,” I confess, lifting my hand up to cup her cheek. Liz takes in a deep breath and opens her mouth to say something, but stops.
“What?” I inquire gently.
She looks down between us, her eyes land on my chest, and I realize that I am a bit underdressed for such a serious, yet more intimate conversation, but that’s me. I seem to have a track record of having intimate conversations with women, half naked…or just plain naked. Maybe it’s because I’m my most vulnerable then; I literally have nothing to hide, you could say.
“Max, I—” she hesitates and resettles herself on my lap. I think maybe I should go find my shirt, but I want to hear what she has to say. I need her to be able to communicate with me even when she’s not comfortable with it. How else are we supposed to move on? How can we be something more if she holds back at every turn?
“Tell me, sweetheart.” I tilt her chin up and offer her a reassuring smile.
Liz nods, as if convincing herself she can do this; whatever it is. I wait patiently as she sets her mind to it. “The way I acted before, to you in the car, it was my defense mechanism. It’s just that something you had said, about being used, just hit home for me. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you. And I was afraid that, I am afraid that your feelings will change.”
“So you try and push me away?” I surmise.
Taking a deep breath, her brown eyes meet mine and she says, “Yes.”
“I guess I can understand that, everyone is afraid of rejection.” While the words leave my mouth, my head is working a mile a minute. I want to ask her what she means. Someone obviously used her, at least she feels that way. Was it Danny? Dean? My heartbeat picks up, is it someone else? Someone I know nothing about?
“Tell me the rest, Liz. Tell me who used you,” I murmur against her lips, before pressing mine firmly against hers. The tension in her body leaves, and I pull back, waiting.
Disengaging herself from my hold, and my lap, she stands. I feel the coolness immediately, and ache to pull her back, but she needs time.
I realize in that moment, she’s come to mean so much to me.
She paces in front of me, then spins on her heels, and walks across the room, places a hand on the mantle of the fireplace, and then takes a seat in front of the hearth. Wrapping her arms around herself, she begins in a whisper…
“I was sixteen, and I had this crush on a boy who was just so great. At least I thought he was,” she pauses and looks at me; a girlish awe screens her features for the moment. I realize she’s back there, sixteen again, remembering her first love. I remember mine, except there were more than one, more than a few—I refocus on her.
“He wasn’t a jock or anything, more like a book worm. He had jet-black hair, and green eyes. He was so good looking. Not what you’d think of a semi-nerdy guy. But I saw his potential right away. I had finally worked up my nerve to ask him to join me at lunch, and to my surprise he said yes. I spent the entire next day thinking of nothing but lunch period,” she smiles, and turns her head away, then shakes her head. I settle back into the couch, listening intently.
“I even thought of things we could discuss, because my friend Janice, said I should be prepared if he wasn’t a conversationalist. When the lunch bell rang, I sprang from my class and headed straight to the cafeteria. It wasn’t what I thought, we sat at a crowded table, we didn’t really get to talk, and then it was over. But he did ask me out the next day in the library. I spent the rest of my time, up until I was supposed to meet him, trying to decide what to wear. Janice even came over to help me. Alex didn’t have a clue, at that time, he was working two jobs to support us.” She rubs her hands over her knees; her dress hikes up and offers me a titillating view of her legs. I suck down my urges and focus on her face, the smile, the childlike awe it held moments ago is wiped away, and replacing it is a sadness I’ve never seen on her before.
I brace myself for the worst—God help me I’d like to find this semi-nerdy, but good looking, book worm and shove my fist down his throat for even putting that face on her. I can only imagine what I’d like to do to him once I find out what happened between them.
“We ended up dating for a month. He wasn’t at all like I thought. I figured his temperament was mild, and that we could just hang out and…whatever. Anyway, there was this party at Janice’s house, her parents were away and she used to throw sleepovers. Which is what I thought this would be, until I got there. It was what I later realized was a normal teenage party, drinking, making out. Eric, that was his name, was there, he’d been drinking a little. I’d never seen that side of him, but I was still crazy for him, so I overlooked it. I honestly don’t remember how it happened; he said he wanted to talk to me. We ended up in Janice’s room, one thing let to another and…” Liz stands, walks towards the window across the room, then turns and settles on the ledge, to face me. My entire body is taught with anger, she was innocent and he took advantage of it.
I might have had my share of girls, but they were all willing, and none too innocent in fact. From my place on the couch, I realize she’s too far away. Without a second thought I cross the room and stand in front of her, she looks up at me and offers me a crooked smile. I don’t touch her; she’s not finished yet.
“I had my first time, on the floor of my friends room. It was the worse experience of my life, at least until it was over. He didn’t talk to me; he just got dressed and left the room. I laid there in the dark and cried, I don’t remember getting dressed or even walking home.” Liz lets out a small laugh, one filled with resentment.
I can’t hide the ache in my voice, “Liz—” she silences me with a finger against my lips.
“I didn’t understand what happened. I thought that I, that it, wasn’t good for him so that’s why he left. The next day though, I tried to talk to him, to apologize,” she lets out a sarcastic huff.
“I couldn’t find him, or Janice anywhere. I didn’t tell her what happened, because I was embarrassed. So after school, I went to her house, I was going to tell her. She didn’t answer, and a part of me was worried. I went around the side of the house; they usually kept the kitchen door unlocked. I called out to her, but there was no answer. I got to her bedroom door, and was about to knock, that’s when I heard her…them.”
Liz looks up at me, the tears in her eyes are evident, she doesn’t want to cry, but I can tell how much what she saw behind that door must have hurt her.
“How didn’t I know? Janice, who was supposed to be my friend, thought convincing him to sleep with me would do me some good. That it would loosen me up. But then after hearing about my ‘performance’ decided she owed Eric a good lay, her words not mine.”
“Damnit!” I pull her into my arms and hold her, let her cry on my shoulder. And fight the urge to ask where Janice and Eric are today, so I can bury them.
“It’s something Alex, no one, ever knew about even to this day. You asked me once why I never had any friends, or even a boyfriend to mention—before Danny that is. That’s why.”
“Liz, no one should ever have to go through that. I understand why you don’t let anyone in…let me in.” I pull away, frame her face in my hands, and swipe her tears away with the pads of my thumbs. She is beautiful, and she is mine, whether she realizes it or not.
Maybe I was waiting for a sign, something to tell me that I could invest my feelings into her, I think I just found it. I think I just found her, the real Liz. The one, no one else has ever seen…not even Danny.
She lets out a puff of air, mixed with a sob of pain and can’t help my reaction to it. I need to comfort her, soothe her, and erase every bad memory she has. Taking her lips gently, I part them, tilt her chin and coax her to open fully for me. Mere seconds is all is takes to feel her cool palms against my chest, the rise and fall of her breasts against me, the swell of her belly. All of it sparks something deep within me, something I can’t control, and I find myself not wanting to.
Keeping an arm braced around her back, I cradle her hips and lift her to the nearest couch; gently I place her down and remove her shoes. Her lids are heavy, her lips swollen, and I lean up and take them again. Sweeping my tongue inside, delving deeper, drinking heavily from her. Little moans from her escape past her lips, I groan in appreciation, knowing I’m doing that to her. Slowly, gently, I reach down between us, lifting her dress; I slide between her open legs, caress her knees, her thighs, and finally I reach the place between.
Her body tenses, I kiss her hungrily, asking her with my lips, with my hands, to trust me. The moment she does is a relief; I let out a breath and move to taste the skin on her neck, while my fingers begin to draw circles over the dampness they’ve found.
Liz’s hands slide down my arms, my muscles jump the moment her soft fingers glide over them. I try and steady my breathing; my reaction to her, but it’s fruitless. I want her too much, but I have to take my time, I have to be gentle. I have to teach her to trust me, trust herself, and her instincts that I’m not like Eric, or even Danny.
I take a small satisfaction in knowing that giving me this part of her, allowing me to pleasure her, is more than she was willing to part with a few months ago with anyone.
“Sweetheart, look at me,” I whisper against her ear before pulling away. Her lids are closed but for a brief moment she opens them for me. I smile at her, she returns the sentiment and then I say, “You can tell me to stop, and I will, okay?” She hesitates for a moment then nods.
My hands slide up her hips, latch onto the thin material of her panties and slide them down her legs. Her breath hitches but she doesn’t stop me. I lean down, kissing her ankle, then up to her knee, all the way until the scent of her arousal fills me. My erection strains tightly against my jeans, but I ignore it. This is about her.
I bite my lip in anticipation, her legs part of their own accord and I settle once again between them. The tension leaves her body as my fingers trail back between, and find the wetness that’s coating her. I hold back my groan, and gently part her with my thumbs. I gauge her reaction, my eyes never leaving her face.
One strap of her dress has already fallen and I realize I want her to feel more. Removing one hand from its place, I lift it to her shoulder, pulling first one strap, then the other and finally moving to take her bra straps with them. Her eyes open, and I still. Slowly she arches her back, and slides her arms back, disengaging the hook and removes her bra, allowing me a full view of her rosy nipples.
Licking my lips, I watch as she closes her eyes once again and allows me free reign on her body. My thumb circles the hard nub gently, applying more pressure, my other hand cupping one swollen breast as I lean forward and take her into my mouth. Her body arches, a moan escapes, as I sink one finger into her wetness. I can’t help the groan that leaks from my lips as I take in her tightness, slickness, and eagerness I feel as her hands tighten on my arms, urging more from me. I switch, taking the other breast into my mouth, nibble on her nipple, as my fingers below slide sleekly in and out of her body.
“Max…” she pants, and I open my eyes to watch her.
“You feel amazing, baby.” I say, as I lean forward and capture her lips. This kiss is anything but neat; it’s hungry and wet, wet like the juices coating my finger. I move away, watch her watching me as I suck on her nipple, bite down on it gently and feel her body arch off the couch; I slide another finger inside. This time, she screams out, her entire body tensing and shaking as the first orgasm washes over her.
“My god,” she pants, her eyes open, my fingers continuing to delve into the hot wetness between her thighs. Saying that I want to sink inside of her is an understatement. I want to take her, ride her, over and over until I’m sated. Which at this point could take days.
I can sense her uneasiness, as I continue to stare at her, like she were my next meal—how I wish. I’m not done with her yet, I ask her to sit up, but I never remove my hand. She squirms a bit, and I crawl in closer, this next stunt is going to cost me, but she’s worth it. Finally I remove my hand, which she thankfully protests, I smile and tell her I’m not done yet.
Hooking my arms beneath her knees, I pull her down a little and I ache to see her and she must realize it, because with unsteady hands, she begins to lift her dress up, just enough to allow me a view of her sweet, wet pink flesh. I buck my hips against her, she gasps. I pull her down further, sinking her into the cushions and urge her to wrap her legs around my waist.
“Liz,” I groan as she bucks up against me this time. And I waste not a moment to lean over her, clasping her hips in my hands and taking a hard nipple into my mouth, I begin a gentle rocking against her exposed flesh.
“Max…ah…” I’ve leveled us off perfectly, my erection hitting her sweet spot perfectly with each rock. Back and forth, over and over, her wetness seeping through my jeans, her pants and gasps for air urging me on. My will is tested by this, because all I want to do is free myself from these damn jeans and drive into her until I feel her soft body convulse around me, until I sink so far inside of her I can feel her heartbeat around me, and until I can fill her to overflowing.
My body shudders and I’m a hairsbreadth away from coming in my jeans, something I’ve never done. I reign in my excitement and concentrate on her, on hitting her spot, and realizing that I can’t hold out much longer, I reach between us, find the hard nub and rub almost frantically.
Liz pants, “Max, oh don’t stop…please…”
“Trust me…I won’t,” I pant, leaning over placing a kiss on her stomach, right where our baby lays and it’s in that moment that I wish we had this when creating our child. Not just hot sweaty sex that I’ve had countless times, but moments of making love, creating a child.
I don’t get to ponder that for long, because her breath is picking up, her hips become insistent on rocking against mine. Not able to wait a minute longer, I reach between us, delve two fingers deep within her, and revel in the feel of her body tensing beneath mine, her moans of deep satisfaction escaping from her lips, and finally the rush of hot wetness inside of her washes over me.
*******
Liz doesn’t look at me afterwards; she just gets herself together and rises from the couch. I reach out to grab her hand.
“Liz, wait.” Her cheeks tint to a rosy color but she looks up at me. I smile and kiss her softly, pull her against me and whisper to her. “Thank you, for trusting me.” She must have been expecting me to say something else, because when she moves and searches my face, she must find what she’s looking for because her entire face lights up and she reaches up and kisses me.
“I’m just going upstairs to…” I nod in understanding and ask her if she’s hungry.
“Starving,” she calls out and says anything I have is fine. I can’t crack the smile off my face as I head for the kitchen to place an order at my favorite Chinese restaurant.
After ordering half the menu, I stroll back into the living room to wait for her. She truly is something amazing. I think it’s a quality I have yet to find in anyone else, she’s deep down good, even though she’s been through hell and back, Liz is a good person. Not that I don’t know my fair share of good people, maybe it’s more like Liz, despite her sarcasm and her hesitation, wants to see the good in people. At first, before today that is, I thought she was too quick to judge, but it’s the other way around.
Liz doesn’t judge people; she just uses her defenses to make one think she’s forming an opinion, when in reality she needs to see how far she can push, before the truth comes out. To figure out what kind of person you are.
Today, she realized that she pushed me too far. And when she did, that wall fell, she allowed me into a part of her world no one has ever seen. Alex was right, Liz doesn’t trust easily, but in a way he was wrong, she trusts too easily. And because she knows that, she has developed a way to stave off people from getting close, this way she won’t have to get hurt in front of them.
She prefers to do her crying behind closed doors. Except when she’s around me.
Because I know damn well, Liz might be tough, but her feelings once realized, run deep. I know Liz cares about me; I know she feels something more for me, even if she hasn’t said it. This afternoon, her looking at me, telling me she was sorry, and then just moments ago on this very couch, she trusted me to not let her down, to not turn her away, and to accept her as she was.
If I had rejected her, if I had simply made her feel used, she would have told me to go to hell and would have meant it. She doesn’t half ass anything. She doesn’t know how. That makes her special, it makes her genuine, and it makes her fragile.
She knows it and now I do too.
She trusts me not to do what every other guy has done.
She trusts me not to break her heart.
TBC…
And so here we go...