Forbidden (5 page)

It is only now that thoughts of
the man waiting for me enter my mind. And though I know I’ve never felt more at home, I feel a twinge of guilt. Steven, my almost fiancé, is a good man. He has always been kind and loving to me. Is it his fault I wasn’t able to love him as I did Ryan? I know he doesn’t deserve this, this secrecy, but I also know it was unavoidable. I mean, what was I suppose to do?  Tell him I needed a few days before giving him an answer to his proposal so I could find my former lover and see if there was anything left between us? Even though it’s the truth, I shudder to think what he would do if he knew any of this. What would any man do, really, when faced with the fact that the woman they love, the woman they’d just asked to marry them, was still desperately in love with someone else?  I don’t think there’s a man in the world who would respond favorably to that.  

             
I tilt my head up so that I can make out the line of Ryan’s jaw. Tracing it with my fingers, I feel the beginnings of coarse stubble, which is very different from the more fine hairs of his youth.  I am only now beginning to notice all the changes that have occurred since I’ve last seen him.  It is to be expected, of course.  It has been eight years, after all.  Surely, I expected him to be a bit different. I guess it’s just that I didn’t expect him to be so
familiar
after all this time.  That is perhaps what’s so jarring to me.  On some level, it’s as if there hadn’t been any time passage at all.  And then I wonder…is that what true love is?  Do two people who know each other so well neglect to see the changes in the other?  Or is it that we simply both change and see change in the other person as merely an extension of ourselves. 

             
Ryan is still asleep; his breathing is smooth and steady. If he sleeps as he did in his youth, nothing will wake him. Well…there is one thing that will wake him, I think, smiling to myself. 

My hand trails a path down onto his chest and I run my hands through the soft patch of hair that is in the middle of his chest.  There is so much more there now than when he was seventeen and I run my fingers through it, re
lishing the feeling of it curling over my fingers. I allow my hands to roam freely over his chest, lingering on his nipples as they harden beneath my touch, then dipping lower, following the hair that leads a path downward. I feel the taut muscles of his stomach just beneath the skin and can’t help but wonder what Ryan has been doing in order to have this incredible body. Slowly, my hand dips lower. I take one finger and stroke the length of his semi-erect penis, which is growing by the second.  I smile.  Even while he sleeps he responds to my touch.  I continue stroking the length of him and feel him harden even more beneath my touch.  I glance up at his face and see that he has a soft smile on his lips and I know that he will be awake soon – that is, if he isn’t already. 

My hand reaches lower and I cup his balls, e
liciting a moan from Ryan. Slowly, I release them and travel back to his now fully erect penis and curl my fingers around the base. He lifts his hips upward, encouraging me to stroke him. Knowing I have this affect on him still arouses me like nothing else and I feel a familiar throbbing between my thighs. I want him inside of me but I also want to taste him, feel him inside of my mouth, and lick him from top to bottom as he did to me only hours ago. 

The tip of his penis
is a mere inch from my mouth. I flick my tongue out so that it caresses the sensitive tip and I hear Ryan inhale sharply. Before he can recover, I take him so deeply into my mouth that I render him immobile, save for the hands that are now buried in my hair.  Every muscle in his body has tensed while he waits for me to caress him with my mouth.  Slowly, I withdraw, sucking every last inch of him and I feel his tension ease. 

“Holy fuck,” he gasps. Before the words are out of his mouth, I slide down the length of him again, sucking him harder.  
“Becs,” he cries.  “You feel so fucking amazing.”

As I continue to stroke the length of him with my mouth, I feel his thighs tens
e.  His breathing quicken as he comes closer and closer to his release. The power I have over this man’s body is incredible. He is at my mercy and I’m the sole reason for his arousal. 

The throbbing between my legs has become quite insistent and I reach one hand down to touch myself between my wet folds. 

The movement of my hand slows my attention on his penis just enough for him to notice. I see his eyes darken with desire as he spies my hand between my legs. 

“Oh my god,” he gr
oans. 

Ryan
moves his hips back toward the bed so that momentarily, he is out of my mouth.  He takes a deep breath, then moves my hips gently, encouraging them to the top of the bed where he can have free access to my clitoris with his mouth. He directs my legs on either side of his head so that my sex is perched above him. 

When I realize what he’s done
and what he’s intending, I groan with desire and lower my hips to his mouth.  Instantly, his tongue is caressing my warm, wet folds.  My pulse races and within seconds, I feel an intense orgasm building inside of me. My body takes over and I move my hips in time with his tongue, straining for my release. 

I realize that I have both of my ha
nds on either side of Ryan’s hips and in my distraction, I have left his penis unattended. While keeping my upper body balanced on my hands, I lean forward just a bit and suck the tip of his penis into my mouth.  I feel a break in Ryan’s attention to my nether regions and know that I’ve succeeded in distracting him.

I desperately try to continue to suck on his penis, but honestly, his tongue flicking against my clit and the stubble on his chin is nearly more than I can bear. I come quickly, gasping his name as
my body shudders with a powerful orgasm. I find that I have to release the hold on his penis so that I can gasp for air.  But once the orgasm subsides, I take one hand, wrap it around the base of his penis and take the top half of it into my mouth. Wanting to give him the release he’s given me, I suck up and down the full length of him over and over again while he tenses beneath me.  Within moments, I hear him cry out and his penis throbs over and over as he comes.  I hold onto him, swallowing his seed as he pulses inside of me. 

Beneath me, he is gasping fo
r air and caressing my thighs. Once his orgasm subsides, I release him from my grasp and collapse beside him on the bed. 

“Holy shit,” I say, still breathing heavy. 

He smacks my upper thigh and grins.  “We’ve still got it,” he says.  “Even though we’re getting old.”

“Speak for
yourself,” I retort, rolling onto my back and closing my eyes.  I feel the bed move underneath me and then feel his breathing on my ear and his arm across my belly. 

“You hungry?”
He asks as he nibbles on my ear lobe.

“Starving.”

He rolls away from me and off the bed, then reaches for his jeans which were lying on the floor in a heap. Something lands on my belly and I look down to see it’s one of his t-shirts.  I sit up and pull it on over my head, then get up and look for my panties.  I locate them in the corner of the room and step into them. 

As I dress, the guilty feeling I so haphazardly tossed asi
de earlier comes rushing back. It’s suddenly so clear to me what a shit I am. Someone proposes marriage to me and I go running back to my old lover and immediately fall into his arms…and into his bed. I am a horrible, horrible person. 

“What’s his name?”

“What?”  I whirl around to see Ryan staring at me.

He looks at me pointe
dly. “You know…
him.”

“Oh,” I reply softly.
“Steven.”

“Do you love him?” He asks softly.

I’m stumped. How do I answer that question? Do I love Steven? Certainly, he is a good man. He’s always treated me with kindness and affection. He’s been patient with me, never pushing me into the next level of our relationship. It seemed he always knew something or someone was holding me back. 

I look b
ack at Ryan and meet his eyes. Slowly, I nod.  “I do,” I say. “But it’s different somehow.” I tug on my lower lip, unsure of how to explain what I’m feeling. 

Ryan
reaches out a hand to me and I put mine into his. He closes his fingers around mine, then lifts our clasped hands to his mouth and kisses one of my knuckles. He is looking at me with such concern that I nearly weep. It’s as if he knows what I’m feeling and is trying to help me through it. 

“What
are you going to tell him?”

I sigh heavily,
then cover my face with my free hand. “I have no idea,” I reply. “I don’t want to hurt him, but really, it’s inevitable.” 

“Do you want me to go with you?”

“No,” I reply, knowing this is something I must do on my own. It would be even more of a slap in the face to Steven if I were have the man I‘m dumping him for waiting for me in the car. 

Ryan
looks oddly disappointed, almost as though he felt he had a right to come with me. I lean into him and wrap my arms around his waist. 

“Don’t
worry,” I say. “I’ll be fine. Steven will understand.”

“Will he?
” He frowns. “I’m not sure I would. Not where you’re concerned.”

“I can’t explain it other than to say I held something back from
him…and I think he knew I did. He never said anything to me but I think he always knew there was someone else…someone I…”

Ryan
’s arms wrap around me. “I know,” he says, holding me tight. “I know. Come on. Let’s get something to eat.”

We take a few steps into the kitchen and I
’m shocked at how small it is. He’s got one of those bistro tables but I know it’s second hand because the table’s edges are worn and the chairs are mismatched.  But with some sanding and a coat of paint…  Without even realizing I’m doing it, I’m imagining how I might improve the table and chairs and make the kitchen a bit more homey for Ryan. 

“Where did you find this?” I ask, placing my hand on one of the chairs.

“Goodwill,” he replies. He’s bent over in front of the fridge, searching through its contents, which I am certain contain nothing more than condiments and the odd jar of pickles.  He is a bachelor, after all. To my surprise, he pulls out a dozen eggs, some mushrooms, and a bag of shredded cheese. “Omelet all right with you?”

“Sure,” I reply, takin
g a seat in one of the chairs. “As long as it’s not ham and cheese.”

He looks up, surprised. “But you love ham and cheese
omelets.”

“Not anymore, I don’t.”

“Huh.”  He frowns. I make a mental note to tell him why I can no longer tolerate anything with ham in it. 

Though his place is sm
all, it’s actually quite cozy. I imagine many mornings waking up here in Ryan’s arms, perhaps sitting on the front porch with him while we sip our coffee and read the paper. I will, of course, have to clip coupons until I find something that pays a bit more than the current cashier job I was able to obtain. It sucks that I managed to graduate in the middle of a recession. I have a degree in Marketing but no job even close to my field. For now, cashiering will have to do.   

I
t occurs to me that I have no idea what Ryan does for work. I inspect his body once again, noting the ripples in his stomach and the firm curves of his shoulders and biceps. I assume he must be doing something that requires a lot of heavy lifting. 

“Ryan
?”

“Yeah?”
He says. cracking two eggs into a bowl. He picks it up and turns to me while whisking them into oblivion with a fork. 

“What have you been doing since you…got out?
  Where are you working?” 

It’s a little odd to be asking these sorts of questions since the
last time Ryan and I spoke, we were trying to decide what color dress I should get if we decided to go to prom. But things are different now, and it’s becoming more apparent the more time we spend together. I feel a twinge of concern in the pit of my belly but quickly brush it aside.
Of course things are going to be different now,
I tell myself. 

Ryan
smiles as me with understanding, almost as though he can read my thoughts. “I’m all right for money, if that’s what you’re asking.  I know it doesn’t look that way from where you’re sitting but trust me, we’ll be all right.”

“That’s not
what I’m worried about at all. I don’t care if you have tons of money or none at all – you know that.”

He puts the bowl down and walks over
to me, taking my hands in his. “Of course, I know you don’t care about that sort of thing.  You never have. I just want you to know that I’m fine. We’re going to be fine.”

He walks back over to the stove and pours the eggs into the pan.
He quickly chops up a few of the mushrooms and tosses them in, then turns back to me as though waiting for me to ask my follow-up question, which of course, I do.

“So what
have
you been doing?”

He
smirks at me. “A little of this, a little of that.”