Saving Nathaniel (35 page)

He put his wineglass on the bedside table, took off his jacket and hung it over the chair and put his shoes, neatly paired, under the seat. She noticed he hadn't been wearing any socks.

He switched on the bedside lamp and it glowed with a soft, mellow light. Megan slipped off her own shoes and kicked them away under the bed. She never took her eyes off Nat as he moved around the room, fussing with the pillows, closing the curtains against the darkening night and throwing back the duvet. She sipped at her wine as she watched him, and her stomach began to flutter as her heartbeat picked up a pace.

Satisfied all was in order, he returned to her, took her wine glass from her and placed it on the bedside table beside his. 'Later,' he said. He took her in his arms, his hands on her backside. 'Now, where shall we go?' he said, and kissed her with gentle firmness. He brought his hands to her waist and up under her sweater, running them up her body, feeling where her ribs were prominent as her arms stretched up and around his neck. Gathering up the material, he removed her sweater over her head, hardly ruffling a hair.

He reached around her, unzipped her trousers and allowed them to fall down over her legs. She stepped out of them and flicked them away with her heel.

They hardly paused in their kissing as she unfastened the belt at his waist. A sharp tug to loosen the pin, and it was open. She undid the zip and the button at his waist and pulled his shirt free to strip it from him.

Nat took over the job of removing his pants himself. His attention still on Megan, he slipped them off leaving only his shorts. Even these loose garments did not hide the fact that his erection was already well started.

He arranged his arms around her and with a swift movement that made her grab at him for balance, he swept her up and laid her down on the bed. She lay back with her arms above her head allowing him free reign to do whatever he liked.

He grabbed her by the ankle and lifted up her leg. 'What are these?'

She was still wearing her socks, blue and green ones, embroidered with tiny white sheep. 'I get cold feet,' she pouted.

He tutted and rolled his eyes. 'Dearie me,' he said, and one by one, peeled them off her.

Starting at her perfectly pedicured toes, he laid his lips on her skin and tracked a continuous line all the way up her leg to her stomach, around her navel and back down to her panties. He eased the small, lacy articles from her, and tossed them aside. Straddling her legs, he kissed up her body to her brassiere. With a quick flick of his wrist, it came loose.

'You've done that before,' she said.

He dropped the bra onto the floor. 'Once or twice.'

He played with her breasts, first with his hands and then his mouth, taking them in and sucking and massaging the nipples until they stood erect.

She was breathing softly as he moved over her, finally returning to her mouth. She threw her arms around his neck, running her hand through his hair. While his tongue explored her mouth, his hands were busy trying to remove his shorts. By now, his erection was pushing hard against the material and he was having trouble extricating himself from the garment. He muttered and cursed under his breath.

'Can I give you a hand with that?' she said.

'Please…do.'

Once free he was once again on top of her and her hand tracked down his back, over his waist, down through his hair to his cock. She stroked it with a delicate touch. 'Ooh, yes,' he breathed in her ear. 'That's nice.'

She giggled softly and her stroking became a firmer grip. 'Like this,' she cooed, and with a gasped, 'Oh, yes!' his arousal became more intense. His scrotum contracted as she massaged it and he groaned loudly.

She played with him, stroking the silky softness that covered his hardness until he was ready for her and she, in turn, warm, wet and open, was ready for him. He slid easily into her, filling her comfortably. As he moved in her, she closed her eyes and cleared her mind of everything but the sensation of him. She wrapped her legs around his body crossing them at the ankle to maintain a good hold.

He did not have to work too hard before she felt the quickening that indicated orgasm was imminent. She urged him by lifting her hips and gripping at his buttocks forcing him into her. Understanding her desire, he increased his pressure and speed.

Once more she experienced a sexual frenzy that tore at her senses, her whole body spasmed akin to a seizure. Spurred on by her climaxing muscles gripping at his penis, Nat continued his rhythmic pushing, and less than a minute after her zenith, he too came, ejaculating hard into her.

'Oh, man alive!' he gasped as his whole body lurched and pulsed.

When he was done, he lay down on her breathing hard and fast. He could still feel the aftershocks of her orgasm and enjoyed the extra stimulation. It took a long time for his erection to subside.

He rested his head on her chest, her heartbeat easily audible. She stroked through his hair; a simple action she knew always relaxed him, and he fell into a comfortable torpor.

'Hmmm.' A long, deep sound welled up from his throat.

'What was that?' she asked.

'That,' he said, 'is what contentment sounds like.'

'Are you content?'

In reply, he made the noise again.

She wrapped her arms around him and rested her cheek against his head. 'I like this,' she murmured. 'It feels good lying here holding you. You're nice to hold.'

'Thank you very much.'

He caressed her stomach and then ran his fingers along the length of the silver line that spanned her bikini line, stretching almost from hip to hip. He traced the scar's course again and then placed the flat of his hand on her stomach, covering the place where her womb had once been. 'You can't have children can you, Meg?'

She brushed his hair with her lips. 'No, sweetheart, I can't.'

'It's a big scar. Did it hurt...what you had done?'

'For a while,' she said. 'But I'm a fast healer and it was a long time ago. It was...not something I wanted, but I didn't have a choice...'

'It's okay,' he said. You don't need to tell me.'

She resumed stroking his hair, brushing it back from his face. 'I know a child is the one thing in the world you want but I won't be the one able to give you one.'

He sighed. 'It's alright. I came to terms with the fact that I would never be a father a long time ago.'

'It might not have worked out anyway. I'm not exactly a spring chicken, you know. I'm way past my prime and a bit stringy.'

'So am I.'

'You're not stringy, you're in fine shape.'

He pressed his lips to the soft skin of her breast. 'We'll do lots of things together, just the two of us.'

They lay quietly until she said, 'We could always get a cat.'

A large smile broke out over Nat's face and the cast of sadness all but disappeared. 'Over my dead body,' he said, with a chuckle. 'I can't stand the bloody things.' She felt him settle against her, and within a short while, he had drifted into sleep.

She didn't join him. She lay listening to his gentle rhythmic breathing. The rhythm became more irregular, changing to sharp gasps, and he began to twitch and fidget. He was dreaming. His breathing became more laboured, and he mumbled something she couldn't quite catch. It was clear to her he was becoming distressed in his dream. She strengthened her hold and hushed him, offering soft reassurance.

He was in the hallway of the house, looking into the kitchen. It was dark save for a rudimentary glow from the open refrigerator door. He went into the room, walking slowly as his eyes became accustomed to the gloom. He glanced into the fridge as he passed. Every shelf was loaded with bottles of liquor. Some were on their side, their contents dribbling out onto the floor.

Something sharp pricked at his bare feet. The half-light reflected off large pieces of glass on the floor. He recognised them as Joanna's Mackintosh vase, smashed into a hundred pieces.

There was something on the table. The form was familiar, a person, completely covered by a large white sheet; female, he could tell by the shape.

At one end of the fabric, a bright red stain was slowly spreading. He tore his eyes away from the crimson wetness and toward the head end of the form. The hair poking out from under the sheet he recognised at once - salt and pepper coloured with a distinctive silver-white streak. His gut twisted.

Already knowing what he would see, he grabbed a corner of the sheet and threw it back. He recoiled at the sight before him. There she lay – still, white and lifeless. His beloved Megan.

At her groin, the silver line he had traced with both his lips and his fingers lay torn open, and the gash joined at a right angle to its centre by another jagged tear, right up to her navel. The slices formed a ragged 'T'. Blood continued to ooze from the wounds.

He put his hand to his mouth and gagged. He tried to turn and run away, but something held him in place. Sudden warmth enveloped him and he felt his anxiety subsiding, being replaced with calmness.

'You're wasting your time,' a voice issued from the shadow. This too, he knew at once.

'Joanna?'

It was her. Not the blood soaked horror he had witnessed in his nightmares, but as he remembered her in life, even though, now she carried in her right hand a filleting knife with a long, tapered blade, covered in…not blood, but rust.

'She can't give you what you want,' she said.

He wasn't afraid. The comforting warmth had spread through him and his fear vanished. 'She already has,' he said.

With the tip of the knife, Joanna poked at the wound on Megan's body, opening the gash wider until he could see inside. 'She's empty,' she said. 'There will be no child from her.'

'I know,' he said.

Joanna looked at him, her eyes glittering in the dimness. 'Do you love her?'

'Aye, I do.'

'You loved me once.'

'I still do, Joanna. But you're not here, she is.'

'That's not my fault.'

'And it's not mine either, I know that now.'

Joanna cocked her head and looked into Megan's still face. 'Do you want her?' she asked.

'Aye…aye, I do.'

'Even though she can't give you a child?'

'Aye.'

'Does she love you? Does she make you happy?'

'Aye, she does. Very.'

Joanna smiled beneficently. 'Then have her...with my blessing.'

She held out her hand to him, but the knife was no longer there. In its place, a long-stemmed, perfect red rose with the most exquisite fragrance. He reached out to take it from her. As he took hold of the stem, a thorn pricked his finger…

With a jerk, he came awake. 'Meg!' he cried, half asleep.

'Shh, it's okay, you're safe, sweetheart. You were dreaming.'

He lay back onto the pillows with a groan, his hands covering his face. 'Are you alright?' she asked gently, removing them.

He nodded and rubbed his eyes.

'Another nightmare?'

'No, it was nothing like before, nothing so awful. In fact, it was just…odd.'

'Do you want to tell me?'

The dream slipped away even as he tried to recall it. 'It's fading now.'

'It was just a dream,' she said. 'They're not real. They can't hurt you.'

He inhaled deeply and blew it out in a long, slow breath. 'I know.'

'My poor love.' She kissed him tenderly. 'Has it gone now?'

He gave her a soft smile. 'Aye,' he said. 'All gone. Everything's alright now.'

Her lips found his again and he took her to him. Without needing any further encouragement, they made love for the second time that night.

They lay together in warm embrace under the duvet, enjoying the closeness and feel of each other. 'Warm enough?'

'Hmm, lovely. I don't want to have to get out of it.'

He ran his lips over Megan's throat and she moaned her own contentment. 'Then don't,' he whispered in her ear, and nibbled at her lobe. 'Stay here.'

'I can't, not all night.'

'Please. I want to see what you look like first thing in the morning.'

She laughed. 'Believe me, sweetheart, you don't.'

'I want to wake up next to you and watch you sleep.' He nuzzled into her neck and put his hand on her breast. She playfully slapped it away.

'No, Nat, I can't. I have to think about Rebecca. If I were still here in the morning, she would be mortified. It wouldn't be fair.'

He rolled onto his back and puffed out his cheeks. 'Selfless as usual.'

'More like self preservation,' she said. She grabbed his wrist and looked at his watch. 'Time I wasn't here,' she said, and threw back the duvet.

They shared a quick shower, and afterwards, Nat, wrapped only in a towel, lay back on the bed sipping from his wineglass and watching Megan dress.

She didn't finish her drink since she had to drive herself home.

'Are you sure you have to go?' he said.