Broken and bitter, Bella has returned to Forks where she works in her father's bar. Will a chance encounter on a deserted country road be the path to acceptance, healing and... love? Entry for the Sort of Beautiful Challenge. Adult and angsty. AH/AU
A Hair of the Dog that Bit Me and Moonshadow have been nominated in the Indie Twi Fics! See my profile page for details.
A Hair of the Dog that Bit Me
Disclaimer: All things Twilight are the sole property of the divine Stephenie Meyers. This fan fic is purely for entertainment with no other gain. No copyright infringement is intended.
~*~
Tap tap.
"Miss? You okay in there? Miss?"
Reluctantly I raised my head from its resting place on my forearms that were folded over the steering wheel.
I blinked at the sight that met me through the window: an enormous expanse of brown shirt and a pair of inquiring brown eyes set in an anxious face. There was something familiar about that face.
"Miss? Do you need some help?"
I gave myself a mental shake and rolled down the window a couple of cautious inches.
"Uh, hi. Stupid truck broke down – again. I, uh, had a little melt down myself. Guess the old girl isn't up for a whole lot more." I tried not to let my voice quaver. I wasn't really sure which old girl I was referring to, my ancient pick up truck or myself.
Not a flattering comparison: I was twenty-eight, the truck was more than forty.
"Maybe I could help? I'm pretty good with engines, especially old ones." This was said with a disarming smile.
I dithered internally. I was always leery of strangers. Especially strange men. Especially strange men met on a deserted stretch of country highway.
My uncertainty must have been evident, or maybe this Good Samaritan just watched the news.
"You remember me? Jacob Black. I come into Charlie's Place pretty often."
I blushed. "Oh, yes, of course, how silly of me," I muttered, unlocking the door and popping the hood. "I guess I didn't recognize you with your clothes on."
Idiot! Can you get that foot any farther in your mouth?
Rolling my eyes as I slid out of the truck's cab, "Er, that didn't come out right."
"No sweat!" He said with an easy laugh, "I knew what you meant; I always change out of my uniform before I go into a bar."
His uniform. Brown shirt and shorts. I hastily averted my eyes from my study of his muscular legs and focused on the huge brown delivery van. The UPS man. Tall; russet skin; dark eyes; good – great – build; shiny black hair. They always hire hunksters. He fit.
We shook hands. Of course – he knew who I was; he wasn't the clueless one here.
"You kinda scared me, there," he went on, polite concern on his face. "The way you looked just now…?" His eyes asked the question about my well being, or lack of it. A nice balance of courteous interest without pushing any boundaries.
"O-o-ohh," I faltered. "Just a generally crappy day." Or year. Or life.
"The truck started bucking like a bronco and died, way out here, wouldn't you know it, and I…." I shrugged, fighting the tears. "One of those last straw kind of moments." I stopped, trying to get control. The way I felt today I'd be unburdening myself on this helpful fellow in such a way that he'd never stop to help a stranded woman again.
He straightened up from his examination of the engine and rolled his eyes, "Yeah, the general contrariness of things always comes all lumped together, doesn't it? Well, this truck's not going anywhere right now, but it's not serious – or expensive."
That was a relief. The property that I had inherited on my father's death last year, a bar eponymously named Charlie's Place, was deep under water. Charlie had been pretty out of it the last couple of years of his life. I was spending a lot of time lately wondering if trying to save the last link I had to my dad was worth all the work and heart ache.
I knew he had hoped that his little tavern would be the anchor in life that it had been for him. It would have to be: I didn't have a whole lot else.
The Beast - my (not so) affectionate name for the truck – had been included in the inheritance.
The supreme irony of my father's legacy was that I was a recovering alcoholic.
Oh, well, it was a living and work that I knew well, from both sides. At least these days I wasn't in danger of drinking up whatever meager profit I could glean from the business.
I hoped.
I had been driving back to Forks from an AA meeting in Port Angeles when The Beast had commenced to do the Lambada on the most deserted stretch of road between the two towns.
I had pounded the steering wheel in frustration after guiding the chugging, lurching piece of shit off the road. And then had broken down, sobbing over my frustration, worries, loneliness and the general fucked-upness of my life.
Not to mention a trace of panic at the thought of how I would get home from here. It was late afternoon and I really didn't fancy a long walk in the growing dark with the looming forest on either side of the road.
That's when my rescuer had appeared.
"Hey, I'm really not supposed to give rides to people in my rig, but I'm not going to leave you stranded out here. I'm heading back to the barn anyway, so… I'll drop you off some place convenient when we get to Forks, and it'll just be between us. Okay?"
I felt shaky with relief. That was one problem solved anyway.
The drive back to town seemed surprisingly brief, as I clung to the jump seat, feeling very exposed next to the open door. Jacob and I chatted easily. He reassured me that the repairs would be simple, offering to do them himself, if I liked.
"It's no sweat," he said confidently. "I restore classic cars as a sideline. Well, honestly, I think of it as my 'real' work. Delivery just pays the bills." He gave a shrug.
"Don't quit your day job sort of thing, huh?"
He went on to tell me that he did actually make a bit of money on the classics, but he sunk it right back into other projects, or as he loftily said, he reinvested it. I liked his lighthearted manner, even over something that was obviously quite important to him. He plainly didn't believe in taking himself too seriously.
As he negotiated the turn to the street where I lived, I asked hesitantly if he could give me an estimate, mentally raking over my slender resources. He thought and named a figure that I suspected was a lowball. I was formulating an objection when he cheerfully suggested taking it out in trade.
"Buy me a few beers, why don't you? That's an easy enough way to handle it." He jumped from the van to gallantly help me down to the curb. "Anyway, that'll give me an excuse to drop by Charlie's Place more often."
His smile was… dazzling. I nodded dumbly. I knew I shouldn't put myself in his debt. I just knew it. It went against my grain, against my principles, against my experience. But there was something about him….
Hastily, before he could think I was a total moron, and a mute one at that, I brought up the problem of getting The Beast to wherever he planned to work on it.
"That's okay, I have connections: I get a lot of cars towed." That made sense; he would, of course. "I live over in La Push, but it's not as far as it sounds."
A light bulb moment. Black, La Push, The Beast.
"You're Billy Black's son, aren't you. Wow, do I feel foolish. Charlie talked about him all the time. And that was his truck. Er, sorry for your loss."
"Thank you, sorry for yours, too." He smiled sympathetically. "No reason to make the connection, I don't think we've ever met. No, I'm sure we haven't met, I'd definitely remember if we had."
A promise to be in touch soon, another smile - I noticed that he had only one dimple when he smiled - and he was gone.
I went into the house wrapped in thought. Somehow a monumentally crappy day seemed a good bit less burdensome than it had before.
*****
The sense of being Atlas balancing a world of shit on my shoulders lightened appreciably over the course of the next several weeks. It wasn't that my circumstances changed all that much, but my attitude sure had.
The truck was running great, thanks to Jacob. He happily stopped by the bar two or three times a week after work for the promised beers. Jacob's modest consumption of one or two beers at a time would make the pay off quite a lengthy process.
He didn't seem to be in any hurry.
I had to laugh at myself and my own assumptions. I hadn't really taken into account that this man was a normal drinker! The way I had always approached alcohol consumption, such a bargain would have left me owing in very short order.
After a week or so, he invited me out for coffee.
At first I was concerned about conversing without the reassuring barrier of the bar between us. I needn't have worried. He was amazingly easy to talk to.
He must have felt the same: he dug out his wallet and showed me a photo of his daughter, Emily. He explained that Emmy, as he called her, lived with her mother in Hoquiam.
"The relationship was already over when Leah found out she was pregnant. We really were never serious, didn't even consider getting married. Leah's a nice lady," he shrugged, "It just… wasn't there, y'know?" He plainly wanted me to be all right with this knowledge.
"Emmy… well, she's something special." An extraordinarily sweet smile accompanied this observation.
This, of course, required a similar contribution from me. I didn't have kids; I knew what it was like to grow up with a boozing, drugging mother and hadn't been about to inflict that on an innocent child.
I offered what I had: my cat, Cassie, short for Hop-a-Long Cassidy.
Very soon after taking possession of Charlie's Place I had noticed a scrawny, half-grown calico cat lurking in the little loading area out back and started putting out food. The kitty had been nearly as shy of overtures as I was.
One night she didn't show up. I hadn't realized how much I depended on seeing her everyday. I had searched, growing almost frantic by the time I found her cowering behind some trashcans.
She must have been hit by a car: one hind leg dangled sickeningly. I called around until I found a vet clinic that took late night calls. Her leg had to be amputated. A few days later she was at home with me, enduring such nursing as a cat will.
Jacob's eyes glowed warmly at this recital. "Ah, a tender heart as well as a pretty face," he observed approvingly.
I blushed, I had never been good a receiving compliments. "Oh, she would have done the same for me," I said as lightly as I could. I was a little embarrassed at how attached I had become to Cassie. We were two of a kind.
A few days later he asked me to dinner. I said yes with no small trepidation. It had been so long since I'd been on a date, I wasn't even sure if I knew what to do any more. One thing I was sure of: I wouldn't sleep with him.
He didn't ask. Or make any but the most gentlemanly gestures. Go figure.
He did ask me out again, though.
I found myself, for the first time in years, noticing what other women were wearing and I went clothes shopping. For so long I had hidden in shapeless garments that were a form of camouflage: I had forgotten the triumph of finding bargains, and the pleasure of pretty things.
I ordered some things on line, telling myself that as a business owner I had no time to waste on shopping trips to the city. Inside I knew that it was for the lift my spirits got when Jacob, with his brown uniform and carefree whistle, would come to my door with the latest purchase.
Jacob toured me around the Olympic Peninsula with as much pride in his home as if he had made it personally and I saw it all with new eyes. He seemed as much a part of the land as the very rocks and trees. His dog, Sam, a huge black animal of great dignity, and indeterminate ancestry, was an agreeable addition to our excursions.
My return to the area had been fraught with misgivings: I had spent the last year and a half of high school in Forks, living with Charlie after my mom, Renée, became impossible to live with. My experiences at that time had not endeared me to the Pacific North West.
I had gotten over blaming my alcoholism on things other people did – mostly. It was time to take responsibility for myself. Anyway, a shattered heart as a teenager was hardly an excuse for the way I had lived in the years following my 'escape', as I thought of it, from the place where I had experienced such pain.
It had been a rather long way down.
I had made very little impact on the town in my previous residence here. Just as well, I wanted to make a fresh start and this was actually fairly close. The intervening years had brought a lot of newcomers searching for the Simple Life in the sticks; people I hadn't known at all. Certain other people had moved on.
Jacob enthusiastically showed me his garage beside the little red house at the edge of the forest where he lived. Just a series of prefab sheds bolted together, but his eyes had glowed as if he were guiding me through the Taj Mahal.
Then he revealed his own personal obsession. "It's a 1968 AC Cobra. The first car to go 0 to 60 in five seconds." He said reverently, whipping off the dustsheet with a flourish.
"She's not much now, but some day…this baby will really turn heads!" This was said in a dreamy voice with the look on his face of a mother seeing her first born.
Jacob extolled its virtues and I admired it cordially, though to my untutored vision it looked far from impressive at this point. Pretending to study it, with half closed eyes, I nodded and murmured, "Yes, I guess it really is sort of beautiful, isn't it? For a car."
"Sort of!" He gave snort of mock indignation and pretended to be hurt. We burst into laughter simultaneously. He was just so easy to be with!
Jacob's small house was simply, even sparsely, furnished. He explained that he had gotten used to that because his father had been in a wheelchair the last several years of his life.
"I don't really need a whole lot, anyway," he said with an off-hand shrug. "Just the basics."
I smiled inwardly as I looked at the 'basics'. A pleasantly worn leather sofa, a coffee table that Jake had made himself (and very nice it was, too, looked like Pottery Barn). There was a slightly battered but serviceable dinette set in the bright eat-in kitchen – the cramped dining room was given over to a set of free weights. And one whole wall of the compact living room was filled by a massive TV and a gleaming top-of-the-line sound system. Of course!
I was pleased to see that this Spartan philosophy did not extend to Emmy's room. It contained a small, white painted bed with a pink frilly bedspread and curtains, and a collection of stuffed animals, among other childish treasures. I found myself wondering when I'd get to meet her. Perhaps we weren't there, yet.
We often spent the day at his place, he'd work on his cars and I would watch. We talked a lot, about all kinds of things.
Jake was so open about his life, I felt that I could hardly do less. I gathered my courage and told him of my struggles with booze and, to a lesser extent, drugs. He had taken this revelation in stride, remarking that he'd been busted for possession while in high school.
"My mom was killed in a car wreck and I was kind of… lost for a while. Got in to various kinds of trouble, like kids do." He gave a rueful grimace.
"It never went to trial. The tribal elders have an, uh, understanding with the judge about cases like that on the rez. He knows that the, er, penalties they inflict are… persuasive. I wasn't a repeat offender. Not that they ever found out, at least." He smirked. "But all that's behind me now."
I could feel the hard icy ball that had been in place of my heart for so long starting to thaw in the warmth of a man I was coming to regard as my own personal sun. For the first time in years I felt soft and pretty… and young.
The feeling was amazing. Energizing. Hope inspiring. Utterly terrifying.
I had a bad record with men. My AA sponsor, Alice, often remarked that alcoholics don't have relationships – they take hostages. As part of my recovery I had sworn off becoming involved with anyone; temporarily, I had always told myself. But the moratorium had stretched on and on. Jake was the first to seriously test my resolve.
I wavered between whimpering that I wasn't ready yet, and firmly telling myself that it was high time to try again (after all, I had been sober three years!), and the impulse to fake my own death and run away.
Jacob indicated that he was ready for our friendship to become something more. Not overtly, but by the way his hand would rest on the small of my back when he opened a door for me. While walking in the woods he would take my hand to help me and 'forget' to let it go. All the subtlest of gestures, but they were adding up.
He had the sweetest way of calling me Bells and honey. I couldn't remember when someone had last called me by a pet name.
Good night kisses after an evening out had gone from swift and friendly to warm and lingering. I would sink into such an embrace gladly then stiffen and pull away as my insecurities began to hammer at the back of my mind.
Sometimes I would find him looking at me in a way I couldn't quite describe but that caused an odd fluttering in my chest. As well as other feelings that I thought had died.
I talked over my fears with Alice who, typically, advised honesty. "You're only as sick as your secrets, sweetie," she reminded. I hated it when she was right.
As it happened, I didn't have to bring it up.
One afternoon Jacob suggested a walk on First Beach, one of our favorite places. It was a gloomy day. A storm was forming on the Pacific, so the beach was virtually deserted. He led me to a huge driftwood tree where we sat looking at the breakers rolling in.
Jake cleared his throat before saying, "Bella, I have to ask – is this going anywhere? You and me, I mean? I feel like we could have a future…." He looked shy, but determined. "I haven't led a perfect life, I admit, but I'm a good guy. I wish you'd give me a chance… for more."
My heart started to pound and my stomach clenched in on itself painfully. This lovely man would hardly be so eager for a future with me if he knew just how broken I was.
As always, when I felt backed into a corner, I went on the offensive. Words formed on my lips and I blurted them out without thinking: "You're talking about sex." I surprised myself at how hostile my voice sounded.
Jacob was obviously taken aback, as well. "We-e-ll, that's part of it, yeah. Is that bad?" Nonplussed would be a good way to describe his expression.
"People who are in love usually do that sort of thing! I'm falling in love with you, Bella, and you feel the same way, I can tell, but you won't admit it. I want to know why. I think I deserve that much.
"And if all I wanted was to knock off a piece, um, I don't have any trouble getting that." He said this without bragging, just a matter of plain fact. I knew it was true, I'd seen the way women looked at him. Not that he'd ever gone home with anybody, from Charlie's Place at least.
"I'm not good enough for you. You wouldn't love me if you really knew me." I whispered brokenly. "I-I'm so sorry…." My voice dissolved into tears as I whirled away and started to walk swiftly back to the village, head down, fists jammed in the pockets of my jacket. I hated myself as never before for letting things go so far.
Jacob strode along beside me, awkwardly leaning at an angle, trying to see into my face. "Bella, that's a piss poor excuse for an explanation and you know it! Don't I get any say in this? Tell me what's wrong!"
He stopped me by putting his arms around me; he was as immoveable as the sea stacks along the coast.
He drew me back to the drift log and sat me down, leaving a respectful distance between us. Seriously he said, "I know you have feelings for me, honey, then you turn around and act like I've got rabies or something. What happened to you? Were you… abused?"
I took a deep shaky breath; it was time I told him. "T-those years before I got sober, I – well, I led a pretty wild life, did… a lot of things I'm not proud of."
Giving a bitter laugh, I explained, "Yeah, I was abused: but it was self-inflicted!" I was almost gagging in my self-loathing. "Nobody ever treated me worse than I treated myself - I'd have killed any son of a bitch who tried! Alice says I need to learn to forgive myself, but it's hard. It's not fair to drag you into how fucked up I am!"
I pulled my feet up onto the log and buried my face in my knees. I didn't want to look at him as I finished this revelation.
"Bella, you don't have to give me a confession, you know." His voice was soft.
"I know, but I've got to say this… the scariest part… what's really getting in my way… is… I've never had sex sober!" My voice dissolved into a wail. "I don't know… how I'll react or if I will even! I don't even know if I'm any good at it, if I remember how…!"
Jacob surprised me by laughing and throwing his arms around me.
"It's not funny!" I sobbed dismally, too distraught to even be resentful at this callous reaction.
"No, it's not, I apologize." He was instantly contrite. "I'm just – relieved. I can see that this means a lot to you, but I was thinking that you'd been … brutalized or you were sick or, or…. But this is something we can work on!"
We.
He rocked me in his arms, comforting me till I had cried myself out.
"So, I get to make up for all the jerkwads of the male half of the human race!" He teased gently, "Hope I'm up to it!"
I drew a shaky, gasping breath, "I just want to be able to put all that behind me, and – and start fresh. Like new."
"Sure, sure. So now you're a virgin, too! Way to take the pressure off, Bells!"
I had to laugh in spite of myself, a trifle hysterical with relief at finally confessing my fears. Jake's calm acceptance of what had seemed to me to be an insurmountable obstacle was making me rather light headed. As usual, my imagination was worse than the reality.
We sat on the beach, taking about nothing in particular, till it began to get dark, then walked back to Jake's house.
He amazed me by not offering to immediately address my 'issues'. As we stood beside the truck, he took my face in both his hands, lightly drawing his thumbs down my cheeks.
"Thanks for opening up, Bella. It'll all work out, you'll see." Then he kissed me gently and put me in the truck with a promise that he'd see me the next day.
I was impressed; and surprised; and … disappointed?
*****
For a few days things went on much as before. I worked; took my walks; went to meetings; journaled; talked to Alice; spent the same easy times with Jacob.
Clearly, it was up to me to put the ball in play.
*****
Candles. Fresh, ironed sheets. A nice dinner.
Not that I thought that the quality of the dinner I fed him would influence the rest of the evening, but I thought it would make me feel more confident if he liked it.
As we washed up the dishes, I braced myself and said, in voice that seemed very distant, "Jacob, I-I'd like you to stay tonight, if you want."
He took a moment straightening the dishtowel on the bar. "I'd like that very much, if you're sure you're okay with it." His voice was huskier than usual as he answered.
"I wouldn't ask if I wasn't." I whispered and took his hand to lead him to my bedroom.
His eyes were wide and soft as he carefully took me in his arms and bent his head to kiss me. Our previous kisses had been full of promise, but none had ever made my heart pound like this. I wondered if he could hear it.
He whispered against my lips, "Are you nervous?" Not trusting myself to speak I simply nodded. "Me too, a little. We'll do this easy-like, just let me know if…?" I nodded again.
I focused hard on my fingers as I undid the buttons of his shirt. Shakily, I pressed my lips to the smooth, warm skin of his chest, inhaling deeply of his personal scent. His hands slid slowly down my back, cherishing every inch of me, and cupped themselves around my ass, pulling me closer to him as his mouth roamed my neck and shoulders.
I could feel his hard-on pressing against my belly. A pleasant burning started between my legs, the warmth purling through my center. That was a relief: I'd been so afraid that I wouldn't be able to respond at all. I was still anxious, but…
He leaned away from me and shrugged out of his shirt. He gently tugged the hems of the layered tees I wore up and over my head. I had fretted over the question of underwear, toying with buying something special and lacy, but had given up the idea. He would have to take me in the simple cotton racer back and boy shorts that were my regular choice. This was me, just as I was.
He didn't seem disappointed. Slowly, as if trying to gentle a frightened animal, he ran his hands over every bit of flesh. Brushing over my breasts, still covered by my bra, slipping down to explore inside the waistband of my jeans, then back up.
Lacing his fingers behind my head, his lips sought mine again, more demanding now. A tiny part of my mind considered the growing intensity with detached interest as the larger part of my awareness simply melted into him, wanting more.
This time, I was the one to pull away, yanking the bra off as my breasts actually ached to be pressed against his skin. I couldn't help a sigh of relief as our bodies met. I hadn't done anything like this in… forever, and never with this kind of longing.
Our hands fumbled frantically at belts and buttons and zippers, jeans were unfastened, dropped and kicked aside. Clothing gone, we stood for a moment caressing each other's bodies with our eyes.
He dropped heavily to sit on the edge of my bed and drew me to stand between his legs. He lightly rested his hands on my hips and just looked at me, waiting for me to make the next move.
In the near darkness of the room his eyes were deeply shadowed, amplifying his expression. It seemed to me that his whole heart was on his face, plain for me to see. Wonder, wariness, and hope.
I was struck by the sudden sure knowledge that his desire for me was just as he had said that day on the beach. This wasn't merely a random coupling of two lonely people, fueled by a biological imperative, inhibitions dissolved by some substance or other. Which was all I knew of such things. Jacob wanted me, Bella. And I wanted….
"Oh!" I gave a little cry of self-discovery – and desire.
I flung myself against him, arms around his neck. I kissed him forcefully and hungrily, making little squeaking gasps as our lips and tongues mingled and fought. The heat of my wanting rose like an elemental force as I felt his erection pulse against my leg.
His hands tightened on me and he pulled us both onto the bed, me on top of him. Our arms and legs tangled together, our hands explored; our mouths met, then parted to travel the lengths of heated flesh. The room was filled with the sound of sighs and exclamations.
Jacob rolled me onto my back and paused to look searchingly into my eyes. He breathed my name, stroking my hair back from my face. He kissed me slowly and deliberately. Then, just as deliberately, began to work his way down my throat, brushing his lips slowly across my chest, a hand circling my breast.
I felt his warm mouth on my nipple, sending a jolt of electricity shooting directly to my center. I pressed his head more firmly to my flesh, begging in a whisper for him to suck me harder. My legs twined themselves around his thigh, instinctively rubbing my split against him.
His other hand wound its way through the curls at my hub, searching and probing. I could feel, as well as hear, his chuckle of delight when I twitched and whimpered as his fingers brushed my clit. And again. And again.
I gave a little moan of protest as he disentangled himself from my leg lock. Sliding further down, he paused between my legs for a moment and, spreading my lips with his hand, just looked at my pussy for a long moment. With a hoarse gasp, like that of a man lost in the desert coming upon a longed-for oasis, he fell on me. His mouth claimed my knot, his tongue flicking, his teeth lightly grazing me, which caused my hips to buck convulsively.
His fingers sought my entrance and my moans turned to cries as I ground down on his hand, my need driving my responses. A sporadic flow of half-formed words and pleas fell from my lips under the coaxing of his hands and mouth. I could feel the walls of my sex quivering helplessly, quivers that turned to tremors that in turn became an irresistible force that carried me away from myself.
Jacob rested his head on my thigh as I came down to earth; I reached for him, pulling him up to face me, my mouth searching for his. I could taste my essence on his lips as we kissed; the intimacy of that connection was breathtaking in its sweet intensity.
"I need you, Bella. Now." He mumbled through our kiss.
I could only nod; I was speechless in my desire to feel him inside me, a desire that burned and ached in my core. He fumbled for a moment at the nightstand – in the flurry of undressing I hadn't noticed the handful of condoms he had placed there. A few quick movements and he was ready.
He knelt between my legs and hovered over me for a moment. I reached down and our hands met, together we guided his cock to my opening. I took a deep breath. Jake had joked about my being a virgin again, but in truth, I rather felt that way.
I lightly crossed my legs over his back as he rocked into me. "Aaaahhhaa." The sound poured from my mouth, and from his mouth simultaneously, as he entered. It was, well, a trifle uncomfortable, actually. I had forgotten the sensation of stretching, especially with a man as… substantial as Jacob.
"Wait." I whispered. He looked down at me anxiously. "I just need a sec." Taking another deep breath, I slowly let it out, willing relaxation though my body. Much better. I placed my hands on Jake's ass and pressed down as I moved my pelvis to meet his – I was more than ready for him now.
Our bodies moved together, finding a rhythm that was ours in a primal dance that was as old as time, yet that seemed completely new for us.
For a tiny breath of time I was drawn outside of my being.
As though I had a bird's eye view, I could see below me a pair of completely engaged lovers. A strong-bodied bronze-skinned man strove urgently with a slender, pale woman whose dark hair tumbled around them. As I watched, the woman's face was reshaped from a look of awe to the grimace of mounting ecstasy.
And I was that woman, back in my body once more, feeling Jacob's strength impelling me onward. All will was useless, as the world became only the sensation of his cock plunging in and out of me, existence summed up in our joining. The tensions in my core were becoming unbearable when, at last, I was seized by a wild, primitive joy. I distantly heard my sobbing cries as I met my release.
As I became Bella once more, I opened blurry eyes and gazed in wonder at my lover. His face was flushed and his groans were torn from deep in his chest. Resting his weight on one hand, Jacob slid an arm under my lower back. I clung to him with arms and legs as he rose slightly on his knees, driving into me deeply. I arched into his body – I could never have enough of him!
He jerked and shuddered in the extremity of his climax. I felt a surge of emotion at sharing these moments of utmost vulnerability with him. I had not known this before, that passion and tenderness were so intermingled as to be the same thing.
I had a flicker of passing sorrow for the woman I had been, the one who had been so unaware. A sentiment that quickly disappeared, instantly replaced by elation to have had the realization in the arms of this man.
*****
Morning. A miracle that had yet to get old: waking up sober, without a hangover, remembering what had happened the night before.
Damn! Was it actually sunny outside? Another miracle! I rolled and stretched luxuriously, giggling to myself – I was sore, but in the most pleasant of ways….
I heard the toilet flush, the opening of the bathroom door, then quiet sounds in the kitchen. I scurried to take a quick turn in the bathroom and slipped back into bed as the promising scent of coffee began to drift through the house.
I must have dozed for a moment: the next thing I knew, Jacob was sitting on the bed beside me with a fragrant cup in his hands. I eased into a sitting position and took a grateful sip. I thanked him with a smile and a kiss.
"What'll we do today?" His eyes glowed warmly at me.
"We-e-ll…." I murmured, rolling my eyes.
He snickered, "I've created a monster! We'll find time for that, but we need to go do some shopping"
I thought that over for a moment, I could think of two or three romantic items that a couple might shop for together….
"What will we be looking for?" I asked demurely.
"Lumber."
Lumber. Nothing even faintly romantic about that. Jake's face was serious, but I thought I detected a glimmer of a smile in his eyes.
"Okay, I'll bite." I conceded. "Why will we be shopping for lumber?"
The lurking smile started to spread over his face. "I'm going to put an addition to my house. A proper master bedroom and bath."
I opened my mouth to speak but he silenced me with his fingers.
"Don't say anything yet, it'll take me a while get it all done. About as long as it will take to persuade you to marry me. I intend to have a fitting place for you, when I bring you home to stay."
Lumber is pretty romantic after all.
"You seem pretty certain of my answer," I murmured faintly.
"You might as well just say yes," he replied and leaned forward to brush his lips along my neck. "I'm prepared to be annoyingly persistent."
............