Take My Hand (28 page)

His sweet breath swathed my face like a blanket as his denim-blue eyes
– dark with hunger – bored into mine. Then he hovered his
impressive erection over my voracious entrance before sliding it gently up and
down, just like he did with his fingers – as if he was trying to get me
to beg.

“
Please.
” If he needed me to
beg, then beg I would. “I need you, Dexter. So bad.” I was a whimpering mess
– my body writhing uncontrollably beneath him.

“You’ve got me, doll,” he whispered gently into my ear before slamming
into me unexpectedly. I let out an involuntary gasp and immediately my hips
starting moving against his as I wrapped my legs around his waist. Hoisting my
thighs up with his hands he leaned down and kissed my mouth – his tongue
delving deeper as he attempted to stifle my moans. “You’ve always got me.”

There was no dragging it out this time – no making it last. Dexter
worked himself hard and fast inside me with his head buried deep in my neck as
he panted and groaned in my ear. The knowledge that I could produce such a
delicious reaction from him was the most magnificent feeling in the world and
the sounds he was making alone were enough to tip me over the edge.

So when
his rhythm increased, when he forced himself deeper inside me as my nails
clawed into the delicate skin of his rigid back, it felt like my body was
exploding into a thousand pieces. The most intense orgasm I’ve ever had ripped
through my body like a surge of electricity, igniting every nerve ending as it coursed
through my veins. My body involuntarily stiffened and my limbs twisted around
him like a vice.

“That’s
it, doll. You’re gripping me so fucking tight,” Dexter muttered through
clenched teeth – working so fast I had to steady myself by wrapping my
arms around his shoulders so I didn’t bang into the headboard. “I love you,
Emily,” were his last words as he poured himself into me – his body
juddering to a stop before he collapsed on top of me, resting his clammy
forehead against mine and breathing deeply to slow his racing heart.

“I will
never
get tired of doing that to you. I
would stay inside you all day if I could,” Dexter muttered, stroking my wild
hair and tucking it behind my ear. I could feel his erection waning inside me
and I knew it would soon be time for him to come out. But I didn’t want him
too. Lying like this – our bodies pressed together, his body inside mine,
our heartbeats racing in unison… I’d never felt more loved.
Wanted.
Needed. Protected.

Alive.

“I would
let you if I could,” I admitted honestly. But then knowing in reality that was
impossible, I slapped his bum causing him to jump and slide out of me whether
he meant to or not.

“Hey! I
could turn you in for abuse,” he teased, rubbing his behind with the palm of
his hands.

“You love
it.”

“Yeah.
Yeah I do.”

Emily

Dexter
took me shopping
this morning while Sarah sifted through a pile of Deborah-related
correspondence bigger than Mount Everest. It wasn’t until I stepped inside the
mall I remembered Christmas was just a few days away. It was easy to forget
with everything else going on around us while we had been living held up in a
house with not a decoration in sight.

Wrapped up warm in jackets and scarves (I borrowed one from Sarah and
Dexter already had one with his things from his previous life here), we browsed
the windows for a while before eventually braving the crowd in one of the
shops. I picked up a few boxes of American candy for Rachel and upon Dexter’s
advice, a blow-up woman for Jared. I hated being a scrimper but we didn’t have
the cash while we were over here to buy anything extravagant. Dexter and I have
agreed not to buy gifts this year, which left me feeling a little sad. I know
it’s the only viable option given our lack of finances but it’s our first Christmas
and it’s supposed to be filled with useless gifts, and flowers and chocolates
and balloons and stuff right? At least it is in the movies.

Still, I remembered I’d yet to give him his Harley Davidson figure which
made me feel a little better. Plus, I’m sure I can come up with something
imaginative which involves not much money and even less clothes.

I’m sorry. You don’t need to know that. Good God, I’m turning into
Rachel.

Exhausted from walking round a crammed mall, aimlessly searching for
gifts we couldn’t afford, we made our way home. I decided we could get Sarah a
Christmas bouquet from a small shop near their house and I’d get Chris
something last minute when we get home.

“I feel awful leaving Sarah so near to Christmas,” I mumbled sorrowfully
through chattering teeth while we waited for our bus home. “What if…” I took a
brief moment to consider what I was about to say and decided I was certain.
“What if we stayed till the new year?”

“Are you being serious?” he asked, sounding flabbergasted as he tugged
his tan jacket down from over his mouth to free his lips.

“It makes sense. She’ll be all alone here. It’s her first Christmas
without you, and now without your mom. The few friends she has will be busy
with their own families,” I shrugged as I spoke. “Whereas our friends back in
England have their own families to go to. Rachel and Jared have got their
parents, Chris is apparently going to his latest girlfriend’s parents…No one
will be alone there. I just don’t think I can do it, Dex. I don’t think I could
enjoy Christmas knowing she was here by herself. I really think we should
stay.”

I didn’t know how I’d not thought about this before. I’d known Sarah
less than two weeks yet impossibly I already loved her like a mum. Maybe more
than my own…

No. That’s just cruel. I won’t go there.

“What about work and college? They won’t wait for us forever.” He was
right of course… so why couldn’t I seem to make myself give a flying damn?

“We’re only talking two more weeks max,” I argued. “And if work won’t
wait for us I’m sure we’ll pick up something else. We’re hardly high-flyers now
are we?” I teased. We live in the centre of London, which is jam-packed with pubs,
bars, cafes and shops that all supplied a never-ending stream of students and
business people. I have no doubt we’d find new jobs if need be. “As for Uni… if
I’m honest I’m not too sure how well that’s working out anyway,” I confessed
out loud for the first time.

“Why not?” he asked - his eyebrow shooting up in surprise. “I thought
you had this whole ‘new life’ planned?”

“I did. I
do
. But I’ve known
all along I only wanted a degree to please my mum. It’s not something I’d have
chosen if I’d really had an option. I’m not saying I want to work in Starbucks
for the rest of my life or anything. Maybe I could get into some kind of trade
– do an apprenticeship or something. It’s just… full time studying? It
kind of bores the hell out of me.” Wow that felt good. I think it was the first
time I’d really admitted how much I hated it – even to myself. I suppose
I imagined if I said it out loud I would feel like a failure. But you know
what? I feel more liberated than anything else.

“You know, you’ve just described my situation perfectly,” Dexter
declared, laughing softly through his plump lips, which had turned an odd shade
of purple with the cold.

“How so?” I pressed curiously.

“I thought going to college would show Aunt Sarah that I meant business.
I thought it would prove to her that I was serious about getting my life back
in order. But I just couldn’t do it here. I needed to get away. Seeing my mom
every day… it was tearing me apart. How selfish is that?”

“It’s not selfish. It’s how you dealt with a situation the best you knew
how. Nobody blames you, Dex… for anything.” I cupped the freezing skin of his
beaming red cheek with my gloved hand and rubbed it softly. “So, you’re doing
it for someone else too, eh?” I asked, reverting the subject back to our original
– less angst-ridden - discussion.

“Kinda,” he shrugged. “I mean I really
do
want to make something of myself – make her proud. But
I’ve fallen so behind anyway when I decided to go all MIA on your ass, and I
just don’t know if I’m interested enough to catch up. But then, we gotta think
of the fees, doll. We still gotta pay for the full year so we might as well
give it a shot don’t you think?”

“Maybe. Let’s just agree that it’s not a priority.
Family
is a priority and Sarah is family. No one should be alone on
Christmas.”

“Sure, Cindy-Lou,” he teased. You’ve seen The Grinch right? If not, then
that comment will have gone completely over your head so just ignore it. Or
Google it. “That’s one of the reasons I love you so much. You’re always
thinking of everyone else. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again –
you fucking amaze me, doll.”

I was grateful my cheeks were too red from the frigid weather to expose
the blush I now felt heating them up. My insides literally melted when he said
things like that. No one in the whole world has
ever
made me feel as special as Dexter and I could only hope in
time he would learn to feel that way as well - because
he
is the most special person in the world to me too.

“Thank fuck for that,” Dexter blared when he saw our bus approaching.
“I’m getting’ freakin’ frostbite here.”

“Hypochondriac much?”

“Hey, you’ll have a little more sympathy when my dick gets so cold it
shrivels up and falls off. I’m not the only one who makes use of him these days
remember?”

“
Him
?”

“Sure. I’ve actually been thinking of naming him lately. Maybe… Percy.
Yeah, Percy Penis. Got a nice ring to it don’t ya think?”

“What I think is… you need to stick your arm out for that bus or we’ll
be here all bloody day,” I said, rolling my eyes and trying not to giggle.

“Come on, doll. Take my hand.” He offered his hand out to me and I
placed mine in his – pink glove to brown. Then when the bus slowed he
pulled me up the steps and raced me to the back like we were still in high
school. But he didn’t stop there in his quest to relive his lost teenage years
– because we made out on the back seat all the way home. I was too busy
engrossed in all things Dexter to be embarrassed, and I can officially say that
was the funnest bus ride I’d ever taken in my life.

**********

Later in the evening Dexter went out for a long run to make up for all
the ones he’s missed since being here and Sarah had an appointment with
Deborah’s solicitor regarding her will. Left alone I decided to make myself
useful and set about making dinner. There were potatoes in the pantry and what
looked like minced beef bagged up in the freezer so I decided to make a good
old British shepherd’s pie to surprise them both.

While dicing the onion I found in the fridge I thought back to the
afternoon and the moment we told Sarah we were staying on for a few weeks.
Sarah being the selfless person she is, she tried to tell us it was unnecessary
and that she would be fine, but when I looked carefully I saw her wedge-clad
feet tapping away as if she was nervous about our response – as if she
was worried we might agree with her. Then, when we made it clear she couldn’t
get rid of us so easily, her face twisted into its first true smile since
Deborah passed away. I think I even detected a hint of a squeal.

I’ve not told anyone back home about our plans yet but I know they’ll
understand. Well, maybe Chris will have an opinion as usual. No doubt he’ll be miffed
I’m risking my degree for some lowly barman I barely know or something along
those lines. As for my parents – I doubt they’ll even notice I’m not
there. Little do they know I wasn’t planning on being there anyway this year.
But hey, my mum will have her posh friends to impress so she’ll probably be
grateful her embarrassments – sorry, kids – won’t be there to ruin
it. And if I do end up risking my degree? I have no doubt in my mind she’ll be
first in line to say I told you so.

After scraping the onion into the bottom of a frying pan the doorbell
rang. Wiping my hands on a nearby dishcloth I tentatively made my way towards
it. It felt sort of cheeky opening the door to someone else’s house like I owned
the joint, but I couldn’t ignore it in case it was someone important. Or maybe
someone wanting to pay their belated respects. Anyway, I headed for the heavy
door and dragged it open.

“Hi,” a man – early fifties maybe, with faded brown hair and a
firm smile – greeted me. “I’m looking for a Dexter Michaels,” he stated.
“I knew his mom,” he clarified.

“Um, he’s out just now but he shouldn’t be long. You’re welcome to come
in and wait for him,” I offered, feeling guilty leaving him stood out in the
cold.

“Thank you,” he said warmly. “I will.” Smiling welcomingly I led the man
into the living room and motioned my hand towards the couch for him to sit
down.

“Can I get you a drink?”

“I’m fine, thank you,” he answered curtly, looking around the room
– almost like he was analysing it.
Fair
enough
I thought to myself. He seemed like a miserable old sod to be honest
but then he was probably grieving seeing as he knew Deborah and everything.

Naturally I stayed with him out of politeness, standing behind the
armchair and resting my forearms on it. I tapped my foot against the carpet and
checked the clock every ten seconds. He didn’t speak so neither did I. I was
beginning to regret opening the door now. The atmosphere was so silent and
awkward it was getting embarrassing, and the more seconds that passed the
hotter my cheeks became.

Seventeen minutes later (though it felt like seventeen hours) I jumped
upright to the sound of the key turning in the lock. I rushed towards it
– eager to see a familiar face.

“Happy to see you too, doll,” Dexter teased, wrapping his arms around my
waist. “I’ve just done a five-mile circuit though so I probably stink. You
might wanna back off a little.”

“You’ve got a visitor,” I said with a smile – relieved that I
could return to busying myself in the kitchen while Dexter tended to the
stranger in the living room. Dexter’s eyes flipped to the couch where the man
whose name I’d forgotten to ask was in the middle of standing up.

When all traces of blood visibly drained from Dexter’s face, the smile I
was wearing evaporated from my face instantaneously. Sensing something bad was
happening I grabbed Dexter’s forearm and squeezed it anxiously. The man offered
Dexter a sly looking grin which made his arm tremble beneath my fingers before
taking a step towards us.

“Hello, son.”

To be continued…