Damage Done (20 page)

He pushed himself up from
where he'd been leaning and turned back towards the stove, a welcome
distraction. Rachel was sick and kept imagining herself puking all over the
counter. She gulped the rest of her wine, and stood to pour another glass.

She walked to stand near
him, hugging the bathrobe tightly with one hand and her wine glass with the
other, "I'm sorry."

"I know," he said,
turning to face her, "So anyway, I told my dad I couldn't go back out to
work, and I drove to San Antonio to look for you. I didn't know what to
believe, I thought there was no way- no way you'd done it, had an abortion. No
way you'd started dating somebody else. I thought I would find you, see for
myself, you know? It was stupid, I had no idea where you were. I walked around
the RiverWalk for two days, and then I saw you. With some guy. I was going
crazy out of my mind. I called my mom and she told me to come home- "

He looked at her hard,
unblinking, seemed to remember something. He was breathtaking. The smooth tan
skin she remembered so well had started to age, small lines had begun to
surface around the corners of his lilac eyes, more gray now. He was stunning to
look at, even as he watched her uneasily.

"She told me that if we
were meant to be together, that the universe wouldn't keep us apart. And I just
lost it," he finished, "I was angry then and I needed to get
away."

He turned back to the stove
and cracked eggs into the vegetables. Rachel pictured him driving for hours,
not knowing where'd she'd been or why she'd stopped talking to him, while she
heard her mother's voice over and over, "He never loved you, Rachel."

"So then what?"

"I joined the Army. I
was at basic training by the first of August. I blew off college and did my
four years. When I was done being angry I decided to go back to school. Then I
went to law school. And now here I am again," he finished, "With you.
Again."

A wave of heat ran over her,
she took a step back and leaned against the counter with her hip as she poured
another glass of wine. A full glass this time.

"Why law school?"
she asked.

"Because you thought
I'd never amount to anything, that I'd end up some greasy deckhand like my dad.
That's what I thought. I figured if I busted my ass and made something of
myself as an attorney that eventually I'd run into your dad or your stepdad,
and I wanted to make you sorry. Make you regret it, you know?"

"Dylan- "

"No, it's okay,
Rachel," he said, turning to face her as he turned off the stove, "I
mean, I was hurt, and seeing you again, it brought it all back. But, law school
was good for me, and I might not be saving battered women, but I like what I'm
doing. I'm good at it."

How differently would they
have turned out if Savannah hadn't kept them apart, if they'd gotten married
and had the baby and worked and struggled through college? Would they have made
it?

"Dylan, how old is
Michael?" she asked.

She couldn't keep pretending she wasn't obsessing over when
he'd been born.

"Sixteen," he said
softly.

"So, then you- "
she hesitated.

"No, he's not- "
he leaned against the counter and crossed his arms, he was amused by where she
was going, but gathered his composure, "I met Chrissy at community
college, she was a single mom and Michael's father was never in his life. We
dated for awhile and I just - I just fell in love with her little boy."

She read the suffering in
his eyes, and her stomach turned heavy.

"He was about the same age- you know? And it was a
weird kind of relief. We only dated for about a year, but when we broke up she
let me stay in his life. He needed me and I needed to feel needed."

His eyes grew glassy and he
swallowed hard, he looked away from her, turning back to the omelets in the
skillet.

"Dylan," she said,
setting down the wine glass, "I'm sorry about Michael. I can't imagine."

He slid the eggs onto a plate
on the counter, and tossed the pan in the sink, "Rach, can we not talk
about Michael right now? I'm not ready."

"Of course, I'm sorry,
I just- whenever you're ready."

She wished she hadn't
brought it up, but she couldn't pretend it hadn't made her feel good to know
that he hadn't run off and gotten another girl pregnant right away, or that
he'd hadn
’t been sleeping around while
they were together. Her heart grew heavier as she thought about a young Dylan
spending time with a little boy who'd needed a daddy, had he always wondered
what his own little boy would have looked like, if he'd have had Dylan's blue
eyes or Rachel's green?

"Are you hungry?"
Dylan asked.

"Not really."

"Me either."

They stood at the stove,
watching one another, the tension growing between them. He reached over and
brushed a wet curl from her face, a thrill shot through her when his fingertips
grazed her skin. She closed her eyes, but looked right back at Dylan, needing
to know this was real.

"Do you mind sitting in
the living room?" he asked, "I like to watch the storms."

They sat comfortably near
one another on the large leather couch. Dylan reached for her hand and held it
gently. Lightning struck in the distance and a sharp crack of thunder rocked
the tall apartment building.

She stroked his hand and
watched the lightning in the distance. She knew he'd answered enough questions
for now, and she wasn't ready to tackle the demons her mother had fed with her
deceit and manipulation. She felt conviction and strength, but she was angry,
she had something to prove now. She had to be the woman she'd never thought she
was capable of being, she had to stop being weak and full of fear, and stop
worrying about the people around her, stop caring what everyone else thought or
what they said about her.

She took his hand in hers
and brought it tightly to her chest, not wanting to let him go. She'd never be
able to erase the pain he felt now, or the pain he must have felt then. The
same pain that had left her scarred and ruined, convinced she hadn't been good
enough, that she'd driven him away.

But she wasn't going to live another day without taking a
risk or making herself vulnerable. She understood then that she would only find
power in being bold, no matter how much it terrified her.

She sat up and straddled him
on the couch, letting the bathrobe fall open, unashamed she no longer had the
tight, smooth body she'd had when they first made love. After twelve years of
marriage, she
’d never had sex without
making sure she'd shaved her legs, turned down the lights, put everything in
its proper place. But now that she was here with Dylan again, she was
unconstrained.

His eyes locked with hers,
if he was surprised by her courage it didn't show. His hands raced to her legs,
then moved slowly, deliberately, to the curve of her ass, to the small of her
back, up her shoulders and back down again. He took his time to relearn her
body, branding her flesh, and weighing her reactions when he touched her skin.
She leaned back, legs on either side of his and let the robe fall to the floor.

"Rachel, are you sure?"

"Are you?"

His pale eyes turned black
with hunger, he pulled her tightly into him, and a strong hand moved down to
grip her ass while the other ran hard up the back of her neck. He wrapped the
hair at the base of her neck in his fingers and pulled her head to the side
viciously, granting his mouth access to the sensitive skin he'd discovered in
another life. Rachel gasped, her back tensing from the overwhelming stimulation
she felt as he licked and sucked his way from her collarbone to behind her ear.

He released her hair and slid his hands over her prickled
skin, warming her as she shivered from the pleasure of his mouth on her neck.

"Fuck Rachel," his
deep voice vibrated softly into her ear, "I've dreamed this a million
times, dreamed of your skin next to mine, I can't believe you're here."

He wrapped his arms around her waist and lifted her with
ease as he stood and turned to place her gently on the couch.

"You are so fucking
beautiful," he said going to his knees, he gripped her ankles and pushed
her feet up until her knees were high to her chest, he spread her wide and ran
his hands down her legs to cup her ass, pulling her hips towards him.

"Give me that pussy,” he demanded and his warm mouth
engulfed the folds, her back arching unexpectedly.

She let out a moan and her body went rigid with surprise as
he explored and tasted her most delicate recess. She managed to exhale, her
body softening as she acclimated to the sensation while his hands slid from her
knees toward her breasts until his fingertips softly brushed each nipple,
caressing them tenderly.

When she started to swell he
brushed harder, feeding her fire as he squeezed gently, stroking both nipples
while he savored her pussy and her clit screamed for release. He circled it
slowly until she breathed, "I can't stop-"

His hands gripped her breasts, holding her to the couch
while his mouth flooded over her again and she climaxed, his tongue probing,
begging for more, until he felt the tension leave her.

"You taste so fucking
good, promise to let me do it again.”

"I promise," she
rasped.

He stood and ripped the
t-shirt over his chest, dropping it to the floor before loosening the
drawstring on his pants. His chest was still the smooth hairless valley of lean
muscles she remembered, his small dark brown nipples hard with anticipation.
She watched with fascination as his pants fell, her eyes following the soft
patch of brown hair below his waist.

As time passed after she'd lost him, Rachel convinced
herself her memory of his grand physique was flawed, that she'd simply wanted
to remember him that way. But here he stood, the lightning outside the window
showcasing his perfect skin, that perfect cock. She'd been so terrified of it
the first time she'd seen it, but now she reached down and confidently touched
the smooth skin of his long thick shaft, her fingers drifting over the rigid
head.

His eyes flared when she
touched him, but he kept his arms at his sides while his solid cock bobbed with
impatience.

She gripped his dick,
"I need you inside of me."

He sat on the couch and
growled, "Come here," pulling her to him, "I want to watch
you."

His fingers met her hips as
she straddled him again, kneeling directly over his cock and his mouth covered
a nipple, the tongue tormenting its tip. Her entrance was still wet, and the
hard dick slid through her folds with ease, the pressure slowly rising as he
pulled her down further, until he'd finally filled her completely.

"Rachel," he
whispered when his mouth broke to find her other nipple, "God, what are
you doing to me?"

She'd never felt so
possessed, so settled, all trepidation had left her, and for that moment she
felt- quiet.

"Your dick was made to
be inside of me, Dylan.
”

She settled her hands to his shoulders for support and
began to rise, feeling his length slowly draw out of her. She needed to feel
her clit driving hard against him, to relive his cock entering her over and
over, the ridge of his head rippling past her lips, the thick shaft forcing her
open.

"Purr for me, puss, let
me hear you," he urged, "Show me how you want it."

He hastened her with this
hands and mouth, kneading her muscles, commanding her body to comply, just as
he'd done when they first explored one another all those years ago. And she
finally leaned back in surrender, her blood pumping hot and thick as the
whimpers and moans escaped from deep within, from a distant, buried place she'd
long forgotten existed.

"Fuck, Rachel,"
Dylan groaned, his face full of wonderment as he watched her submit,
"You'll never know the pleasure your moans give me, I still fantasize
about the sounds you make when you lose yourself like this."

He pulled her to him, and
her arms went around his neck, his body massaging her clit as she rode him
faster until his cock thickened, growing harder inside of her as he neared his
peak.

"I'm going to
cum," she moaned, "Dylan, you're going to make me cum," the last
barely escaping from her throat before her cunt began convulsing around him.

"Cum for me, pussycat.”

Her breath caught as he sat forward and his arms, wrapped
tightly around her waist, pulled her further down, sending her body into a
state of unyielding deliverance. His cock, bursting inside of her, pulsed as
his sweaty body melted into hers while they came, clinging to one another. And
when her body fell limp against him, his panting slowed to short heavy breaths
and he buried his face in her chest, her arms still wrapped tightly around his
neck.

The storm
outside began to pass, but the dark clouds lingered, giving his apartment a
feeling of dusk in spite of the clock that read early afternoon. She'd have to
leave soon to pick up her children, and he was both comforted and disheartened
to know that she would go home to her two sweet, healthy babies while he was
left in his dark apartment, alone. He'd have no children to hear playing loudly
in the next room, nobody to hear him yell, "Dinner is ready!" No
homework or giggles or frustrated tears.