TouchStone for giving (The Story of Us Trilogy) (60 page)

I made you a promise to come get you, to always be there for you and hated myself for not keeping

that promise.” He wraps my hands in his in a desperate plea. “Can you forgive me?”

I’m shaking my head. “Ayden, I can’t absolve you of a non-existent sin.”

“But … you can Beth. I look at you and see goodness and honesty. A handful of words from your

lips are worth a thousand of mine.”

I try to free my hands to comfort him.

“No. Let me finish. I’ve had years to rehearse this.” He bows his head solemnly. “I can’t forgive

myself until I am forgiven by you. Baby, I just can’t.”

Sensing his vulnerability, I shake free and pull him to me. His body has lost some of the heat it had

before and I’m patting and rubbing his back with my hands, as you would a weeping child. He is

stripped bare, in every way. I have to acknowledge his neediness. As irrational as it seems, it’s real to

him. I can’t allow him to suffer like this.

I take his face in my hands. “Ayden, you came for me when I needed you most. When my life was

filled with dark shadows and music was my only companion. I was lost, descending into a black hole.

You caught me, lifted me up and brought colour into my life with your love.” I take a moment to

steady myself. “Sometimes, true love only arrives when you are ready to receive it. We were both

ready. So, Ayden, you are forgiven.” I exonerate him and seal this act of absolution with a soft kiss.

Unexpectedly he pulls me to him, wrapping his arms around me tightly. His head rests on my lap

whilst I stroke his hair.

“Thank you.” A kind of blessed reverence falls over us. Somewhere in the cosmos there is heavenly

peace, brought about by the sanctification of our love. Angels will cry and so will I if I don’t end this

moment of sheer devotion.

“But …”

He lifts his head. “Here comes the but …” A smile forms.

“But, what about these knees? I have a gorgeous man naked across them. What is a girl to do?”

He reclaims his hands and repositions them on the knees in question. “I love these knees and every

other bodily part attached to them. They are mine, to have and to hold. ‘Till death do us part.” His

wedding vow catches in his throat.

I shake my head to dissolve the bubbling emotion. “Yes, they are.”

“I have only one question …” He’s tapping his chin with a single finger.

“And that is?”

“Will they taste as good as they look?”

I shrug my shoulders innocently. “There’s only one way to find out.”

My handsome husband peels back my dress until it is barely covering my thighs. While his hands

take hold of my calves, he lowers his mouth to my knees and ascends towards my most private of

parts, kissing and licking flesh that has become sticky with perspiration, pushing my legs apart as he

nears my moist entrance. Like a schoolgirl on a white knuckled ride, I hold on to the arms of the chair,

watching and squirming.

In one languid movement, he lifts my right leg over the arm of the chair, followed unhurriedly by

my left. I am completely exposed. Everything I am is wide open before him.

From beneath the scattering of pink and lavender flowers he raises his eyes to mine, seeking

approval. I give it silently by means of a smile that he returns. I throw back my head and succumb to a

deep seated need in me to surrender myself completely to this magnificent man of mine.

Fuck!

His head dips as he laps at my clitoris, secreting saliva onto the already dripping nub of nerve

endings. In my stomach, muscles are clenching and I’m moaning, fighting against his hands holding

me in place. Ayden knows my body so well. It speaks to him and he translates every movement and

unspoken word with the adroitness of a linguist; every whimper, every aching sigh is acted upon. Like

an attention seeking child I take everything, forgetting to give in return. I’m caught up on a rolling

tide of sensual craving,

He continues to torment me with his devilish tongue, flicking and licking while his hand shifts

position and finds me. The knuckles of his right hand brush against my opening and I arch into it,

needing to be penetrated, lurching towards a torrent of erotic fervour.

When he raises his head I hear his voice, deep and guttural. “I love the taste of you.” Watching my

reaction, he gently pushes a single finger into me and we moan simultaneously; the combination of

words and movement sending a burning sensation the length and breadth of my body. The noise of his

arousal multiplies my own massively, to the point I will beg to be taken.

“Ayden.”

“Not yet baby. Not yet.”

I’m wrestling with his hands and squirming, desperately trying to absorb sensations. With

clenching thighs I rock forward, taking in the sight of a mop of dark, unruly hair, jerking and rolling

into me. And then …

He emerges from beneath the scattering of summer flowers, lips glistening, and ensnares me with a

stare so penetrating, my body quivers unexpectedly at the ferocity of it. “You have always belonged to

me Beth,” he states plainly.

“Yes,” I gasp. “Always.”

“Let go baby …” With fingers that are hot and sticky to the touch, he peels back my fingers from

the arms of the chair.

I allow my arms to fall unsupported either side of the chair and tip back my head, preparing to

ascend. I hear the hum of a vibrator a second before it settles on my clitoris and slides inside me, the

tip resting against a throbbing wall of nerve endings. My unnatural fear of flying has me whimpering

until it’s replaced by an involuntary rasping sound of pleasure discharging from my throat. I am an

airborne spirit.

Like his fingers, Ayden’s eyes pierce my soul, drawing out hidden truths, secret desires. “Tell me

what you want Beth. Be bold baby.”

“I … I want you to mark me … as yours.” I bite my lip, shocked at my confession, trembling and

panting my way through this erotic episode. .

With no need for words, he gives me his blessing and kisses my thighs, still rotating my toy of

choice for my delight and what a delight. I’m becoming limp, my body is soaring. My spirit is lifting,

scaling invisible mountains held fast and flying free at the same time. He pushes into me with two

fingers and that quest for the Holy Grail begins. I am buried treasure. I am that sacred flame,

brimming over with molten juices.

“Give yourself to me Beth,” he commands in a jumbled smattering of explosive vowels. “It’s time

to fly.”

And I do. I surrender myself totally to him, on this our belated wedding night; discarding every

wasted tear, banishing every haunting scream and replacing all that with a fierce, earth-shattering

orgasm that has me tearing at my clothes and gyrating into his mouth.

I can’t hold off a second longer and scream and moan my way through an orgasm which begins at

my navel and powers its way to my clitoris, ending with a pulsating explosion in my vagina. My body

jerks uncontrollably off the chair. I watch him leaving his mark; sucking, biting, bruising the skin on

my inner thigh, pairing pleasure with pain at that unparalleled, climactic moment.

Like a celestial body having peaked, I descend from the sky, a falling star. I slither down from the

chair and he catches me in his arms, lowers me onto him until we are locked together, his knees on

terra firma, our bodies entwined.

Still internally throbbing I tighten my grip around his rigid cock, causing him to sink into me with a

passion that has me questioning my sanity. I am pushed to my limits. Then something happens …

I close my eyes and I see only blinding light. Our cosmic union transcends the expected and falls

into the realms of the fantastical. Our fateful love manifests itself as a supernova. I open my eyes as

our bodies approach detonation. When I look into Ayden’s eyes, I see a universe streaked with

coloured light. I see eternity.

“Do you feel it Beth?” he gasps, close to oblivion.

“Yes, yes. I feel it Ayden.” I cry, lost in the moment.

We climax together! Our seething, scorching orgasms rip us in two. Primal screams fill the room

and linger in the air like stardust at that supreme moment when our two worlds collide …

The earthquake settles and we face one another wide-eyed, trembling and stunned. “Fuck!” is

Ayden’s only response.

Only now do I realise he is still inside me. He makes no attempt to withdraw and I cherish our

intimate connection.

“What the fuck was that?” he asks, taking my face in both hands. He lifts my chin. “I felt like I was

tripping … there was lights and colours and … Wow!” His stare intensifies. “Did you feel it or was it

just me?”

I’m nodding. “Yes I felt it. At first I was scared and then …”

“So was I. But … it was just us. I think we experienced something spiritual Beth.” He’s grinning.

“It was like we really found each other, finally.” He lifts me slowly off him, wrapping his arms around

me protectively like a force field.

Nothing and no-one can touch me now.

From beneath the dark, imposing sky, Dan emerges with a renewed sense of achievement. His

patience has paid dividends and he’s feeling cheerful about the prospect of getting his hands on his

girl.

The pain he is experiencing from his hand and now across his heart is a constant reminder of her

existence. She has long since been an apparition; she’s a warm-blooded, breathing bride. But that’s of

no consequence to him. She is Stone’s in name only; she is his by design.

As he steps from his car he pauses like a hunting dog sniffing the air, catching an unfamiliar scent.

His fighter’s instincts tell him something’s wrong. His hands roll into two tight fists; one gripping

keys, the other punctured by fingernails cutting into pleated skin. His eyes settle on his ground floor

apartment, where the insipid glow of lamplight signals the presence of an uninvited guest.

With stealth he approaches the security entrance and steps inside the building, shocked to see a

busted front door, his front door. With considered footsteps he enters, half hoping the brave bastard

rummaging through his things is still on the premises.

Disappointedly, he wanders through the dusty place, stepping over discarded items en route, before

ending up in his bedroom. He stops dead when he sees the contents of his wardrobe rifled through,

ripped and strewn across the floor like rags. If that’s not bad enough, he spots his special box of

treasures emptied of its contents; everything he owns pales into insignificance compared to that.

Beneath a pair of slashed jeans is what’s left of an outdated phone; it’s in pieces. Close to it is a

crushed leather purse and a black velvet bag that’s been trampled on and ruined. Like a caged animal

he lets out an almighty roar, a deafening expression of pent up emotion; grief at the loss and rage,

disbelieving someone would invade his private space like this. He falls to his knees scavenging,

looking for the one remaining item that has been his salvation for as long as he can remember. Her

crumpled panties lie blackened by boots; there’s the imprint of a heavy sole that refuses to be brushed

off. It’s the final straw.

He takes out his mobile phone and switches it on, unsure of who to call exactly. As he holds it in his

palm it rings three times. He frowns and thinks aloud, “Three messages in one day?”

As he scrolls down, reading them back, his face becomes a weaker shade of cream with each

ensuing message from Jack Simpson.

08.45

What did u do you crazy fuck! It was a fucking set-up! We’re all fucked!

13.05

I hope yur happy. My place was trashed today. 2 big foreign fuckers kicked the shit out of me.

I’ll be pissing blood for a week. I gave them yur number so theyll be coming for u

14.50

If yur still alive call me!

Dan careers backwards, grinding clothes and broken items into the carpet and yells, “What the

fuck!” Needing to think no more about it, he snatches at clothes and stuffs them carelessly on top of

the items in his rucksack. It’s weighty and bursting at the seams. Before making a run for his car, he

checks left, conceals his face with an enormous hand and walks briskly towards it, hoping the absence

of daylight will help conceal his identity. He accelerates away from the place he used to call home. He

can’t go back there, not if he values his life. Stone’s deal went bad. The guys involved are looking for

him and will stop at nothing to find him. His heart is beating out of his chest at that terrifying thought.

He’s a wanted man.

23

I
had planned on staying in bed and languishing in the afterglow of a wedding night so profoundly

stirring, I keep replaying it over and over in my head.

As we crawled from the bedroom carpet and showered together, few words were spoken. No amount

of rational thinking could allow me to piece together the fragmented theories resulting from our