I Run to You (47 page)

In the bedroom, Coy hauled the covers to the
foot of the bed, and then stripped his jeans. He brought her down
with him, rolling her half under him, kissing her hungrily.

Immediately the air seemed to sizzle with
heat.

Her hands grasping, molding, Brook felt him,
heated skin, the velvet flesh, and muscles. With the taste of him
inside his mouth, her erotic hungers intensified. He was rock hard
against her, his cock hot against her thigh.

After skillfully massaging her clit while
kissing her, Coy shifted and settled between her legs.

Nails biting into those fanned back muscles,
Brook took him inside her body, listening to his breath rush as he
uttered, “God…You feel better than I remember.”

Turning her head so she could breathe when he
grasped the backs of her thighs, lifting them high and wide, Brook
moaned on the first thrust. He went in and out, deeply, several
times, then moved his hips in circles—moves that kept her moaning,
oh. God. Yes...

As he had claimed to her, Coy was good and
nasty. His hips shifted faster. His muscles flexed while he stroked
her, gliding his sex in and out, letting his fine athletic frame
become an extension of it, grinding, and doing sexy things even
while he gave and received...

At some point, he leaned back to look at her,
their breathing rapid, dark, and wanton. Then his thrusts were
shallower, but stroking a spot she discovered, was
ultra-sensitive.

He whispered roughly, “You’re beautiful,
baby.” He scanned over her face. Her moist lips were parted and
eyes half-closed. “You feel so good inside. I want to do this
forever. I want to go in so deep ….”

Brook reached up, her trembling fingers
feeling his mouth. “You— do this— very well.”

He rocked into her a dozen times. They
witnessed each other’s expressions, her body undulating with his
thrusts, only their eyes revealing for an intense and intimate
stretch

When his frame tensed, Brook held on tighter.
She shifted her hold to his sides. Her head back, her thighs
gripped by his strong hands as he rode her hard and fast. He
muttered. She moaned. For a while, it was only the sounds lust,
good sex.

Coy shifted his hold and rolled her to her
side. His skin dewed. He kept them joined while they caught their
breath. He massaged her breasts. She caressed him, anywhere she
could reach.

Kissing her sensually, he eased out but kept
her on her side, shifting her legs, and then entering her that
way.

“That feels—different.”

“Hurting….”

“No.”

After several moments of going in like that,
slowly, letting their lungs and muscles rest. He turned her on her
back again, announcing tightly, “Fuck sakes! I forgot a
condom.”

“Had your check up,” she attempted to joke.
But was frankly too deep in the miasma of eroticism to think
straight.

“Yes.”

“I’m on the pill. I’ve—”

“Okay. But—I’m—coming.” He went in deep, so
deep, she gasped.

Brook absorbed his climax, hearing his own
gasps above her. He muttered softly, “God, that’s good. Baby.”
before he stilled.

In time, Coy shifted over so as not to crush
her with his weight.

After washing again, Brook found their
coffee— which they forgot outside. She drank hers, sitting up in
the bed, against the headboard. He sauntered over to the window
with his, leaning his hips on the ledge, facing her, while he
smoked.

He looked rumpled, sexy, and sleepy.

It wasn’t long before he asked, “Can you go
again?”

She lowered the cup from the drink she was
about to take, laughing softly, “Are you serious—Already?”

“Fraid so. You look wonderful, sitting there,
in my bed. It’s a fantasy I’ve had several over the years.”

Brook leaned her head back, the cup between
her palms while she regarded him. The moon glow was just to the
right of him. Some of it caught in his hair, dispersing on his dark
skin.

His trousers weren’t half buttoned.

Fragments of his rugged face in the shadows,
his voice seemed deep and intimate.

He drawled next, “The hours seem to be racing
by. I’m afraid that, when you leave me— all your doubts will still
be between us. I am not giving up, Brook. I will do whatever you
need me to do, to make you believe we can have our forever. I love
you enough to keep fighting for it. I want you enough—to beg to be
inside you again.”

She moved up, off the bed, and walked toward
him, letting the shirt she’d put on drop to the floor.

In those same shadows, Brook reached up and
drew him down for a kiss.

He said gruffly, afterwards, his hands
cupping her ass to lift her, “I wanted you from the moment we met.
Never stopped. I’ll never get enough of you.”

His mouth crushed hers, tongue going deep. In
moments, he had his jeans down his thighs and Brook’s back against
the wall. He drove himself up and inside. Holding her up, moving
her, he initiated a fast, sweaty, lust driven joining.

A twinge of it for Brook was desperation,
fear, wanting to believe him. Wanting—to take him into her—and give
to him at the same time.

Coy slammed into her again and again.

Brook cried silently throughout most of it.
It was the burning so good— the physical pleasure—the heart pain.
When he came close to her, reaching deeper still, thrusting
rapidly, she bit down on the sinew between his neck and shoulder,
before suckling hard and leaving a mark. Her nails marked him too.
They did, when she sank her teeth in. Coy muttered explicit, sexy
words, drawing back to finish—giving it to her so hard her cries of
excitement carried through the house.

~*~

Dawn emerged while they were in the
shower.

They soaped and rinsed—watched often— enough
to make Brook wonder if they’d ever not be hungry to touch each
other.

Coy noticed his finger marks on her thighs,
uttering over the sound of the twinjets, “I’m sorry. Damn. I forget
how delicate you are.”

“They don’t hurt. And I am far from
delicate.”

She had been speechless seeing how she had
scored his back too, and left that purple mark on his neck. “I
don’t think either of us had much control.”

Water beading and rolled off his toasted
skin, Coy squatted down and lightly put his lips on all the marks
he found. Discovering a thumbprint on her ass too. Straightening,
he kissed her, a dozen brief but tender ones.

He stepped back and smoothed his hair, next
shutting off the jet on his side. She did the same. They dried.
When she was smoothing on lotion, Brook glanced to where he sat,
towel on his hips watching her.

The steamy scent of shampoo and soaps hung in
the tiled room. She switched, propping her foot on the ledge of the
shower to smooth lotion over it. She murmured, “I need to go home
before I come back to Mitch and Mom’s for dinner.”

He laughed lazily, though his eyes were
traveling over her. “Neither of us have had enough sleep.”

“I know.” She put her leg down and peeked in
the mirror. “I look it too.”

“You look wonderful,” he whispered.

Slanting him a glance, she released a quiet
sigh that revealed what his words could do to her, Brook left,
pulling on her clothing and finding her clogs, in the living
room.

“Let me cook you breakfast.” he offered when
he’d joined her.

“I don’t each much, fruit, bagel. I’m one of
those people who do what they tell you not to and eat huge in the
evening.” She sat on the stool watching him make coffee.

He had on denims and a T-shirt. She could not
believe she was still scanning at his shoulders, checking out his
ass—remembering how muscular and round it was.

When he turned, she dragged her eyes up to
his face. His hair was drying in its layered muss. His amber gaze
became intense on hers as the room was lightening. The coffee done,
he fixed it, and they drank it that way—with eyes touching.

Brook was feeling tired and yet her mind
rolled through questions, struggling with the emotions that were
now more profound because of the lovemaking.

Finished, he got his shoes on and gave her a
ride in his truck to get her car. He held her, standing by her
opened car door, kissing her repeatedly, and deep, slow, shallow,
and soft.

When he finally let her go, Brook was
emotional again, shaking a little. She closed her door, started the
car, and did not look over until moments before pulling out. His
face pensive, but his eyes said the same he had spoken with his
body all night.

She arrived home, set the alarm, and slept a
few hours. Rising at the alarm, she refreshed, dressed in denims
and blouse, put her feet into sandals—and did her make up
fully—because her eyes were still dark underneath. She put pup in
the car so that Levi could visit him, and then drove to
Madeline’s.

~*~

It was a typical Sunday; some of the family
in their church clothing still, scattered everywhere. While
parking, she spotted Coy’s truck, and then noticed him as she
approached the steps. He was seated on the Porch swing with Jude
and Mitch. Most of the men were on the front porch, the women, from
the sounds of it, out back at the picnic tables.

“Hey, you brought him,” Levi came from behind
the house.

“Yep.”

He took the leash and after giving her a sort
of' hug, took off running to join the other kids.

“Food’s on the counter,” Mitch winked at
her.

Brook flushed and nodded, getting the feeling
they and everyone else had been discussing her.

Inside, she greeted people, kids running in
and out, and teens in the den playing Wii. She took down a plate
and filled it, then sat at the counter, with an icy soda by her
elbow.

Despite the brief sleep, her mind was heavy,
drifting, and not present at the moment. because her emotions were
in a kind of limbo, a sort of chaos that wasn’t so much clamorous
as it was sifting through the—why— she shouldn’t, knew she
couldn’t—stop it. Where would it go anyways?

“Hey, sweetie.” Madeline came around and
hugged her one arm’d, putting the soda bottles she had carried in a
bin. Next, sliding her arms around Brook’s shoulders, she hugged
her that way, their heads resting against each other.

Madeline murmured under the people talking,
laughing, and kid noise, “You look…tired.”

Much to her dismay, Brook’s nose burned. She
dropped her plastic fork into her plate and stood, blinking at
Madeline. She made a helpless sound and took off toward the back of
the house.

There was no place to go where people
weren’t., Brook felt Madeline join her, take her hand, and as soon
as they stepped out back, she led her towards the field.

Holding hands like that, Madeline didn’t say
anything.

Brook held tightly, wiping at tears on her
face, and occasionally sniffing them back.

They arrived at a spot and sat finally, on
the rise, overlooking the hollow, arms resting on their up drawn
knees.

“I’m not doing a very good job with my life.”
Brook picked up a twig and rolled it in her fingers.

“You’re living it. That’s all we can do.”

Watching a kid roll down the road on a
scooter, Brook mused, “I used to think you were the family cry
baby.”

Chuckling, Madeline returned, “Drama is
emotional. You’ve had more than your share. We do not observe life,
women like us, we feel it and we live with our choices. Sometimes,
we make wrong ones. Sometimes they’re not wrong—they’re just right
for that time.”

She waited a beat, and then added, “I’d
rather you never felt hurt/confusion, in any way. But I know you
have to. We get through the complicated parts of life by the skin
of our teeth. You are a strong woman, Brook. Just because some
decisions are harder and some things ache more, doesn’t mean you’ve
taken a wrong turn. Chances are, you’re still turning.”

Brook regarded her, seeing the smile lines
that somehow made Madeline more beautiful—that earthy kind of
handsomeness her mother seemed to keep growing into. “I understand
your fear…with emotions, and Mitch. Back then. I understand it so
much better now.”

Madeline met her gaze. “It’s not something
that just goes away overnight.”

Nodding, Brook leaned and kissed her cheek.
Sitting up again, she told her, “He tears me up. Makes me crazy.
Moves me.” Brook touched her chest. “Thing is, he did that when I
was young too. Now, he is more of a man—more mature. And because
he’s so much a man, when he’s vulnerable and open about his
feelings, it just—wrecks me.”

“I know.”

Brook tossed the twig, drawing her knees up
tighter and resting her forehead on them. “Summer is going to be
crazy busy. All of us—with so much going on.”

“Um. But our life is like that anyway. It’s
normal.”

Brook was just sitting that way, latent when
Madeline lightly touched her back.

Jerking her head up, she followed Madeline’s
gaze, observing Levi coming their way with the pup.

After kissing her head, Madeline stood, and
then walked to meet him.

Brook heard him say, “Is Brook sad?”

So she got up, listening to Madeline tell him
that, no, they were just worn out from the picnic.

When he reached her, his aqua eyes were
searching.

Brook smiled and ruffled his hair. “Want to
walk pup around the barn?”

“Sure.”

They did that, stopping at times to pet and
play with him, laughing aloud while he barked at the horses and
tried to pull them along, running after a rabbit.

Brook stayed in the field with Levi for some
time, asking him about school, sports, letting him talk, just
listening.

They headed back. Brook had her hand on his
shoulder. Levi was telling her about the “cool” overnight at his
cousins.