Learning to Drown (27 page)

“By back on your feet you mean in
shape for sex,” I snorted.

“I do not.” There was a pause and I
was almost out when he chuckled. “Okay. Mostly not. Maybe a little.”

I smiled and that was the last I could
remember until he was tucking a quilt around me on the sofa and the pleasant
peaceful sounds of him moving around in the kitchen filled my ears.

* * * *

Six days I slept. I slept and Lucas
fed me. He watched movies, chopped wood, built fires and helicopter around me
like a possessive handsome maniac.

The day I knew I was better, he helped
me to the shower to get clean. “I feel like yuck and death,” I said.

“But you look fabulous,” he joked.

He turned the shower to scorching the
way I liked it and helped me out of his old oversized sweatshirt that I had now
officially claimed as mine. Then he pushed down my pajama bottoms and helped me
step out. I’d lost weight and my ribs peeked out along my torso, little rails
of bone that reminded me how hungry I was. My stomach growled.

“I’m starving,” I said.

“Good sign,” he said. Let’s get you in
and out and then I’ll make you whatever you want.

“Grilled cheese and tomato soup.”

“Done.”

“Brownies!”

“Done.” He grinned at me and held my
hand like I was a debutante as I climbed into the spray. I had been so weak he
was afraid I’d fall.

I dropped my head back under the
falling water and when he went to pull the curtain shut a whole new kind of
hunger overtook me. “Lucas?”

“Yeah, babe.”

“Come in here with me.”

He peeked in, his face set resolutely.
His jaw line bunched with muscle, his dark eyes hooded. He was warring with his
own lust and that made him even more desirable to me in that moment. I had seen
that Lucas could make me succumb to his will but he could also make me feel
priceless and loved and cherished. No one had ever taken care of me the way he
had since I got sick.

“You dizzy?” he asked.

I grinned. “Yes, I am dizzy. I am
dizzy and I am hungry and I am so weak I feel like I’m made of wet tissue
paper. But there’s one thing I am more than all of that.”

“What?” His eyes narrowed and he
stared at me hard. Then his gaze broke free of his will and it skittered down
my neck, over my breasts, lingered on my belly button and then my mound. I
remembered that first day him watching me silently, like some predator, in his
shower. A shiver of want worked through me. The fever trembles had passed, this
was nothing more than arousal.

“I’m horny,” I whispered and grabbed
the front of his tee and yanked.

I caught him off guard and he stepped
forward to keep himself balanced. One leg going into the shower, his jeans
darkening with wetness as I tugged and yanked at his belt, his button. He took
pity and helped me with his unforgiving jeans. Finally, he dropped his head and
kissed me. It was the hungriest kiss I’d ever experienced.

When he pinned me to the cool wet tile
I gasped, taking his tongue in my mouth, kissing him back, warning all the way
through with the feel of his big hands on my waist, exploring my slick skin. He
dipped his head and bit my throat, hard enough that a tiny spasm of pleasure
sounded in my cunt. “God, I missed the feel of you. God, I was worried. You
were really sick, September.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“Christ, don’t be sorry,” he said,
dipped his head, sucked my nipple tight between his lips so that all of me
broke out in goose bumps despite the steaming shower. “But I missed you. I
missed being with you and being in you. Fuck I missed being in you.”

“Then fix it,” I said, wrapping one
leg around his hard waist, yanking as much as my meager strength would allow.
“Be in  me.”

With my leg up, my pussy pressed to
the jut of his hard-on. He growled against my cheek, his lips moving restlessly
as he tried to kiss me everywhere at once. He pinned my arms high above my head
with one broad palm and slipped the head of his cock along the wet split of me.
A nudge, a thrust, a sigh and he was seated deep and my body caught up his cock
and tugged. Lucas groaned and I came. Three slow thrusts and I was coming, my
lips working but no sound coming out of me as the pleasure pulled me under.

“That was easy,” he said. I felt him
smile against my throat.

“I am easy,” I said. “I missed you. I
missed you in me.”

His hand gripped my wrists harder
still and he bit my nipple hard enough to make my cunt grow tight again. “I can
fix that. Right now. After I feed you. After we make brownies. While we’re
eating brownies, before bed,” he was joking but his voice was getting huskier
and huskier as he fucked me.

I opened my mouth and it filled with
water and then his kiss. For just a moment I couldn’t breathe and then it he
broke the kiss and the water fell free and I said, “Learning to drown. You told
me that. Being with you would be that way. I think I’ve learned.”

Lucas’s free hand pinned my hip to the
wall and he drove into me. He watched his cock going in and out of my body, his
dark eyes darker than I’d ever seen them.

“I love you, Lucas,” I said. Realizing
that I hadn’t told him so yet. Not lucid. Not since that first mistaken slip.

“Aw, Christ,” he said and his hips
drove forward. “I think we’ve both learned to drown,” he said in my ear, his
face pressed to mine, his lips touching my earlobe. “You certainly taught me
something about losing myself. About surrender.”

Another orgasm rolled through me and I
tipped my head back, feeling the echoes of pleasure all through my body. He
pressed his teeth to my throat and came too.

We stayed there until the water ran
cold and I started to shiver again. “Matty called while you were sawing logs,”
he said, drying my back with a big soft towel.

“Oh yeah? Everything okay with the
repo stuff?”

“Fine, fine. He’s done three jobs and
no one’s had to wait. Which is good. Don’t want to ruin the old reputation.”
Lucas smacked my ass gently. Way more gently than he ever had before. He was
just being nice, I knew there were much more staggering smacks in my future.
And that turned me on.

“Then what?”

“He met a girl.”

“He met a girl,” I echoed, waggling my
eyebrows.

“Yep. Get this, her name is June.”

I snorted. “It’s a calendar theme. So
he likes her?”

“I really think he does. And it’s good.
He’s moving toward his own stuff. I have you. We need this.”

“Agreed,” I said. “And they all lived
happily ever after,” I said. My stomach roared and I winced. “Food,” I said a
moment later as he combed through my wet hair.

“And then more of that.” He nodded
toward the shower where we'd just coupled and grinned. He tucked my wet hair
behind my ear, kissed me on the lips.

“And then more of that,” I agreed. I
totally, totally agreed.

The End

ABOUT SOMMER MARSDEN

Sommer
Marsden’s work has appeared in dozens anthologies and on numerous websites.
Some of her favorite books include I is for Indecent, J is for Jealousy, L is
for Leather,Spank Me, Tie Me Up, Whip Me, Ultimate Lesbian Erotica ‘08, Love at
First Sting,Open for Business, Tasting Her, Hurts So Good and Yes, Sir. She is
also writes The Seekers novellas for Eternal Press and is the author of The
Anniversary Party for Whiskey Creek Press Torrid. She lives in Maryland and
keeps her alter ego to herself. Not really. She had a big mouth and knows how to
use it. She has many addictions and has no intentions of getting help for any
of them. They currently include red wine, writing smut, long walks, the
downward dog position, emails, blog hopping, and biscotti. You can reach her at
[email protected]
or visit her at
sommermarsden.blogspot.com
to keep
up with her dirty ramblings.

If you enjoyed LEARNING TO DROWN
,
you might
also enjoy:

MAN IN
THE MIDDLE

By Sommer
Marsden

A two story
collection of hot couples who decide to make things even hotter by putting a
man in the middle.
In Some Things, a friend of Joe's stirs the pot and puts Zoe in a corner.
"There are some things you simply don’t ask for. I know that. And I had
done a damn fine job of keeping this particular thought-wish-dream to myself.
Until that jackass, Drake, undid it all."
Zoe ends up confessing a long-held fantasy of seeing her husband with another
man while he's with her. What Zoe is not expecting after spilling the beans is
that Joe will do whatever he can to make sure she gets what she wants.
In Hidey Hole, a drawer riddled piece of furniture shows Jill a glimpse of
Peter's past in a note. Now that we’re moving, I want you to know that you mean
so much to me. And when I’m lonely or sad, I will always think of us together.
How you smelled, how you touched me, what you tasted like...
Jill pieces together her husband's adolescent experimentation and wonders
(aloud) if he might just do it again. But this time for her. Lucky for Jill,
Peter's all about pleasing his wife.

Warnings: This title
contains graphic sex and language, m/m sex, anal sex, and multiple partners.

EXCERPT:

From Some
Things:

“So what is it?” He didn’t look directly a t me but instead at his
five o’clock shadow in the mirror. He stroked his jaw as if considering
shaving. We both knew damn well he wouldn’t. He never shaved on the weekends.

“What’s what?” I pulled the toilet paper roll so viciously I ended
up with enough toilet paper for a baby elephant.

“The fantasy you’re keeping from me.” More mirror examining as I
wiped and flushed.

“I’m not—”

“How long have we been married?” he asked, confusing me for an
instant.

I sighed. “Thirteen years.”

“How often do we lie to each other?”

“Pretty much never.” I tried to scoot by him, but the bathroom was
so damned small, he took a step back and nearly pinned me against the tub.

“So why are you lying now? What’s so horrible about this fantasy
that you can’t or won’t tell me?”

“There is no fantasy!” I growled and felt my fists ball up on
their own. As if on cue, I had a vivid mental flash of what I imagine almost
every time we make love. I gritted my teeth and willed it away.

“Yeah. Well, your face says you’re lying. Your voice says you’re
lying. And you look guilty as all get out.”

“Why is this so important?” I hissed. Tears. I could feel them
coming like an impending storm. And goddamn I hated to cry. My throat was
squeezing shut, and my eyes were prickling. I felt panicky.

“Because I love you.”

From Hidey
Hole:

There was a nightstand that matched the demo dresser Peter had
been showcasing. It was in this beautifully carved piece of his past that I
found the letter. I pressed the drawer liner to see if this one also had a
false bottom. Who knew, maybe I would find a vintage skin mag or an ancient
desiccated bud of pot. Instead, I found dried up glue holding down the delicate
paisley patterned liner. I was all ready to move on when a square of
white-lined paper flashed in my peripheral vision. I pulled the liner a bit
more and tugged the triangle of yellowed paper. “Man, someone really wedged it
back there,” I said to the dog. He was lying on my feet, bored and snoozing the
way dogs do.

Simon raised his eyes, sniffed, went back to sleep. “Try not to
get too excited,” I said to him. This time he didn’t even open his eyes.

I unfolded the paper, standard college-ruled filler paper, and saw
the heading Dearest Peter. I folded it back. “I shouldn’t read this Simon. I
think it’s a love note.”

Simon snorted like a pig, but beyond that he barely registered my
addressing him. I sighed, curiosity getting the better of me. I unfolded the
paper fast, the way you would take off a band-aid, and continued reading. The
opening was mundane enough. Flirtatious and sweet and flattering. Someone who
was clearly just star-struck by Peter back in the day. The date in the upper
right hand corner would have put my husband at a week shy of eighteen.

“Oh, Simon, I really, really should put this down,” I said. But I
kept reading. And Simon didn’t say a word. He didn’t even raise his head or
thump his tail on the hardwood floor.

This summer with you has been the best of my life. Now that we’re
moving, I want you to know that you mean so much to me. And when I’m lonely or
sad, I will always think of us together. How you smelled, how you touched me,
what you tasted like...

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