Authors: Abbey Lincoln
He opens the door and steps onto the porch, his eyes never leaving mine. “Becs,” he says. “Did you honestly think I would have forgotten you?”
“I…I wasn’t sure,” I stammer. “It’s been…so long.”
“Eight years,” he replies sadly.
My eyes meet his. “Eight years.”
The simple act of looking into his eyes causes a yearning inside of me that has long been forgotten. Though I’ve had other lovers since Ryan, none of them have been able to make me feel as he once did. And now, without having touched this man in nearly a decade, I know that if he were reach a hand out to me, I would fall into his arms as though we’ve never been apart.
He tilts his head to one side as though he’s inspecting me. Then he opens the door a bit wider, beckoning me in. I nod and step around him and into the house, careful not to allow our bodies to touch.
As I step into the tiny room, I take it all in. The room, while neat and orderly, has been furnished with mismatched items that I assume are from a second hand store. There are piles of books on the floor next to a nearly empty bookshelf and it leads me to believe that Ryan has only recently moved in. Knowing how orderly he is, the books would have been placed neatly on the shelf shortly after moving in. Then it occurs to me that I don’t know this man at all; I only know who he used to be. The man that stands before me now may very well be unorganized and slovenly.
Ryan sits down on one of the faded blue wing back chairs and crosses his ankle over his knee. He motions to the couch. “Sit,” he says softly.
I settle myself on the couch, making every attempt to hide my discomfort.
“Becca.” He says my name, then stops. Leaning forward, he rests his forearms on his thighs and peers at me. “What are you doing here?”
He sounds almost tired. My heart aches for him as I wonder just what has made him so tired. He is not the same as he was; did I really think it possible he would be? While his features are the same – his eyes are still as piercing, the scar on his chin is still there, and his hair is still the same light brown I remember – he is different somehow. Behind the eyes that I lost myself in countless times, there is a hardness that wasn’t there is his youth. I wonder if I have that same hardness and if perhaps, it’s something acquired after having lost at love.
As I look at him, I begin to have the familiar feelings of my youth, a rush of excitement in my belly, a quickening of my pulse, and a familiar ache between my thighs. I realize with dismay how stupid it was of me to come here today. How stupid it was of me to think I could be in the same room as this man and not feel at least some of the emotions that were such a huge part of me in my youth. I redirect my thoughts, pushing memories of our time together from my mind and forcing myself to remember exactly why I am here.
I move to the edge of the couch, thinking to stand. “I needed to see you,”
I reply. “I had to find out…” My voice trails off and I find I can’t even tell him why I’ve come. How do you tell someone you loved – someone you still love – that another man has asked you to marry him?
I stand up quickly as I realize how ridiculous it is that I am even here with him. There is nothing left between us and it was stupid of me to think there might be.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “I shouldn’t have come.”
I take one step toward the door when I feel his hand on my forearm. “Don’t go,” he says. “Please.”
Ryan’s hand feels warm on my arm. I long to lean into it; to feel more of his warmth, but know that if I do, it will be the end of me. He still has a hold over me, despite not having touched me in years. I realize now how stupid it was of me to even think I could spend a moment without feeling as though I was living half a life. This man beside me? He is my other half.
The tension leaves my body and if sensing this, Ryan’s hand wraps around my wrist and he pulls me to him. My body turns to face him, almost involuntarily. We are mere inches apart and he is looking at me as though he can’t believe I am here in front of him. I open my mouth to speak, not even sure what I’m going to say but before I can utter a word, his lips are on mine. My body responds as it always has when any part of him touches me and I reach up under his arms and pull him closer to me, opening my mouth so that his tongue can join with mine. Though I’m surprised at my response to him – the way my body almost immediately thrums with desire – it’s not entirely unexpected. I think my passion for him has always been there, just simmering beneath the surface.
His hands reach up and they are buried in my hair, holding my head in place as his tongue pushes its way into my mouth. Suddenly, it is like no time has passed and I lean into him, moaning as my tongue meets his. He melts into me and I feel his erection straining against his jeans.
His mouth rips from mine and his lips are everywhere. He trails a path across my jaw line toward my ear, then down my neck to my collar bone.
“I knew you’d come back to me,” he whispers. “I always knew it.”
His hands slide up my shirt and lift up my bra. His fingers are all over my breasts and I gasp. I tilt my head back and arch my back, loving the feel of his hands on me. Gone are the tender hands of his youth and instead the hands that caress me are rough and calloused, eliciting such arousal in me that I cry out. He takes his thumbs and rubs them over my nipples and they stand at attention, immediately responding to his touch.
“Ryan,” I gasp, wanting more, wanting everything, but not knowing how to ask. There are so many unanswered questions. I know there are…it’s just that with his hands on my body, I seem to have forgotten them all.
But Ryan knows me, better than anyone else in this world, despite our separation and slowly lowers me back down to the couch. He tugs off my t-shirt and removes my bra before laying me down and gently placing a pillow underneath my head. He looks into my eyes and I see the same passion and desire I recall from my youth. I raise my arms to him and he grins. Knowing he is smiling for me is all I could ever ask for and I’m nearly undone. His smile is forgiveness and desire all wrapped up in the tiny uplift of his lips.
My pulse is racing and there is an all too familiar ache between my thighs. Nothing has changed in the time I have spent away from him. I want him, desperately, just as I always have. In one swift movement, Ryan reaches one arm over his head to remove his shirt and then he is pressing down on top of me.
I rake my fingers down his back as my nipples press against his rock-hard chest. My legs, seeming to have a mind of their own, wrap around his waist and pull him toward me. I lift up my hips and press my throbbing center into his hips and he groans, once again ripping his lips from mine. He inches his way down my neck until he takes one of my nipples into his mouth. I groan and buck my hips once again, desperately wanting him inside of me.
But Ryan was never one to be rushed. Though I know he’s feeling just as I am, I know he will take delight in tormenting me until he is good and ready to have me.
I am panting underneath him as he suckles my breast with his mouth while his hand toys with my other nipple. I can feel the roughness of his thumb against the tenderness of the skin there and each time he flicks a nipple, I buck my hips as I feel a throb in my center, almost as though the two spots of my body were connected. And they are, of course, but only for Ryan, for no man has ever been able to elicit such a response from my body.
He releases my nipple and then begins a slow torment of my other breast. He takes it into his mouth and flicks it with his tongue. I moan and arch my back, seeking more of his sweet torment. He is happy to oblige and pulls it deeper into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the most sensitive spot. Over and over his tongue caresses my nipple and I am lost in the sensation. I don’t notice anything else, just the feel of his mouth on me.
He buries his head between my breasts and says my name over and over. “Becca,” he whispers. “My Becca.”
Then I feel his hands slide down my waistline and unbutton my jeans. I lift my hips so that he is able to slide them off of me. My flip-flops are kicked off and then he is back, settled between my hips. I frown as I realize his jeans are still on, but then I realize his hand is perched at the entrance of my vagina.
“Have you thought of me often?” He asks, gently fingering the curly, dark hairs that cover the entrance to my center.
“You know I have,” I whisper. I buck my hips toward his hand, urging him inside of me.
He grins at me, then slowly lowers his head to mine and kisses me urgently. “I’ve thought of you every day.” His tongue slowly works its way inside of my mouth at the same time two fingers open me and a third slides inside of me. I gasp, breathing into his mouth and lift my hips upward, urging him in deeper. At the same time his finger slides slowly out of me, he removes his mouth from mine and I whimper.
“Ryan, please,” I gasp. A master with my body, he lowers himself to my breast and takes the nipple inside of his mouth. Between my thighs, two fingers spread my folds apart and a third stokes the delicate skin there. His finger slides up and down, gently gliding over my clit. He circles the tiny nub, then finds its center once again. His finger, slick with my own wetness, caresses my most sensitive spot, sending shards of pleasure up through my belly. I’m panting and lifting my hips up and down, straining to press against the finger that is driving me mad with desire.
Ryan flicks a nipple with his tongue and as he does so, he slides his fingers down to the center of my sex. As I arch toward him, he thrusts two fingers inside of me. While buried deep inside, his thumb returns to my clit and finds the delicate center. He strokes and caresses the delicate spot there while his fingers are stilled inside of me. My hips have a mind of their own and they move up and down, urging him to increase his speed, depth, anything to give me the release I crave. He pulls his hand out of me slowly and by now I am desperate with need. I’m panting and clutching his broad shoulders. Sweat has formed on my brow and my head is arched back into the pillow he so carefully put underneath me.
“Tell me,” he commands, and I know what he is asking. Of course I will tell him. Even if I were not in this position and desperate for release, it would be the truth.
“I’m yours, Ryan,” I gasp. “All yours.”
At hearing what he so desperately needed to hear, his fingers thrust inside of me again. My hips, intent on achieving release, buck towards him and this time, he gives me what my body is searching for. His fingers dive into me over and over again, filling me and matching my pace. All the while, his tongue is flicking over the tip of my nipple. I pull one knee to my chest and spread my legs wide as a powerful orgasm rips through my body. Ryan delivers several quick thrusts deep into my center and I come with an intensity I’d long forgotten, screaming out his name as my body throbs around his hand.
Once the throbbing subsides, he removes himself from inside of me, stands and undoes the button on his jeans, yanks them down over his hips, and kicks them off. He kneels in front of the couch and grabs behind my knees, pulling me toward him. My buttocks are perched on the edge of the couch and my legs are spread wide, anticipating having him buried deep inside of me. I barely have time to catch my breath before he perches at the entrance of my sex and thrusts inside of me, causing me to gasp audibly. I lift my knees upward and reach for his lower back so that I can pull him deeper inside of me.
He is thrusting inside of me with the pent of passion of eight years passed. Over and over he grinds into me and I feel another orgasm building. I look down to where our bodies meet and feel myself become even more aroused at the primal scene before me. The sight of his erect penis, slick with my arousal and disappearing over and over into me is so incredibly erotic, I have to look away. I sit up slightly and Ryan reaches around to hold me close to him. My hands are gripping his hips, encouraging every deep thrust.
He is moving quicker and quicker and I know he is close to his own release. I feel my own orgasm inching closer and I tilt my hips forward so that he rubs against my clitoris. The feeling is exquisite and after only a few more thrusts, another orgasm rips through me. Ryan straightens his back so that he can look into my eyes. He grabs my hips and buries himself deep inside of me while he comes, pulsing his seed into me and crying out my name. After several moments, he collapses on top of me and kisses me tenderly.