+CHAPTER 9

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It was her touch.

That night. That touch…

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He was between her legs, his hands caressing her open thighs.

She gasped as his lips first touched her.

He loved taking her on this ride…watching her face as he brought her so close and than backing off just enough to let her body accept the next level of pleasure.

She never begged for climax. She knew it would come.

She reveled in the journey and in the knowledge that her pleasure was his delight also.

Slowly, gently and precisely he walked her up the ladder.

His fingers touched her sensitive clit with the gentlest of strokes.

His tongue gave butterfly kisses to her waiting lips.

He watched her face as it morphed from expectation, to pleasure and finely to ecstasy.

He heard her breathing go from slow measured breaths to fervent panting and knew the powerful gasp of climax was not far off.

He felt her body stiffen, her toes curl and her back arch off the bed.

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She made the most wonderful sound when she came.

It wasn't a moan, nor was it a scream.

It was a quiet, gleeful cry…the kind of sound made by a child when first seeing a puppy or a balloon or something else delightful to their eye.

She delighted in the places he brought her.

This time was no exception.

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He reached his fingers deep inside her and removed them, coated in her juices.

They smiled at each other as he used the tip of his tongue to lick the tips.

She opened her mouth, waiting to share the taste; something they had done many times before.

But this time was different.

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He couldn't explain, not even to himself, the need for his next action.

Instead of offering his prize to her to suckle, he brought his fingers to his chest.

He spread her juices across his chest and over his heart.

He marked himself with her essence.

He wasn't claiming her as much as showing her that she had total ownership of him.

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A long soft "ohh" escaped her lips.

Her eyes dilated to deep dark windows into her heart.

She rose to her knees and kissed him.

It was a kiss from that heart.

If she could, she would have shared the very oxygen in his lungs and the blood in his veins.

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He was kneeling in front of her.

She pushed him back on his heels and began to slowly and methodically kiss her way down his neck and across his shoulder.

At his chest, she bit and sucked his nipples.

She moved to his waist and then across to his abdomen.

Her tongue made those same butterfly kisses on his pelvis on their way to his shaft.

He had been stroking her hair, but now he needed to brace himself for the intensity to come.

Placing his hands behind and resting farther back on his heels he watched her as she journeyed south.

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He was aware of his breathing. It was still measured, but had become deep and expecting.

Her tongue made tiny circles across his tip.

Her lips caressed and suckled the cap.

Her hands were soft and gentle in their play with his sac.

She had pleasured him often like this.

It was not a one-way street. Many times she would emerge from him, moist with her joy running down her thighs.

This time was different, more intense.

It was as if she was trying to communicate through his erection, her devotion.

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This made his ejaculation all the more pleasurable and intense.

He could feel the electricity starting at the end of his spine and jolting through his penis.

But just at the moment of release…she did the most unexpected thing…

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Instead of swallowing his offering and sucking him dry, she removed him from her mouth.

Holding his shaft in her hand, she showered herself in his seed.

In a line she went from her hair to her face and finally her breast over her heart.

Watching the ecstasy on her face forced every drop of semen from him.

A cry of absolute joy escaped his lips.

For a moment he thought he would actually lose consciousness.

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They looked into each other's eyes in complete silence and complete devotion.

Nothing they could say could have expressed their allegiance more than what they had just shared… or so it seemed.

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He stood and took her hand.

He placed his finger over her lips as she was about to speak, and shook his head.

He led her to the bathroom and into the shower.

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He turned on the ceiling-head and a warm, gentle rain washed over both of them.

He reached for the gel and slowly began to shampoo her hair. Tenderly he ran his fingers through the strands and carefully rinsed them.

Then he lathered his hands and bathed her.

Her face, her neck, every inch of her was touched and cleansed by his hands.

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This wasn't done in passion, but in compassion. As if he could wash away all the impurities from him that had clung to her.

Although far from perfect, he did not want to see her carrying the marks of his sins along with her own.

He washed her private area with a reverence not a passion, and continued until he had cleansed her feet.

He stood in front of her and gave the top of her head a long and loving kiss.

As he reached for the shower control, she stopped him.

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He wanted to say something to stop her, but she would not allow it.

Placing her finger on his lips, she commanded silence.

Filling her hands with gel, she repeated step by step the ritual just performed on her.

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He closed his eyes as alien feelings whirled through his mind.

As she touched him, anger and dread fell away.

With each caress they were replaced with love and faith.

She had crumbled the wall he had built around himself.

She had unlocked the door to his heart.

And now she was peeling away layers upon layers of guilt, self-incrimination and revulsion.

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She was slowly revealing the core of his soul.

She did not see the cold, heartless killing machine the army had created.

She did not see the iron ruler of the misfits known as Rangemen.

She did not see the humiliated child cowering in a closet.

She saw only a good man with an honorable heart.

She saw the man of her future and her past.

She saw the man of her heart and her soul.

She did not see the tears.

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There had not been tears since he was 12 years old.

He had promised himself never to cry again. He had kept that promise.

He would turn the pain inward; morphing it into purpose and resolve.

Never acknowledging the hurt or the loneliness.

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Now the tears flowed freely, hidden by the gently flowing water.

He was no longer ashamed of them…

He had been freed by them.

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Somehow, the one person in the world who had the answers to his life's questions had found him…had accepted him as he was…and had loved him unequivocally.

She had pulled him from his self-imposed darkness.

She had renewed his soul…

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Was he dreaming all of this? Was it a memory?

It didn't matter. It was real here where he was now.

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She had saved him from himself.

He was finally alive…

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"Did you see that?" Steph whispered softly to the two other men in the room.

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"His eyes are moving under the lids. He's in REM. He's dreaming." Bobby Brown looked at Steph and smiled. "He's trying to wake up."

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"What should I do? How can I help him?" She felt herself shaking with excitement.

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"Keep holding his hand and talk to him." Tank's voice was matter-of-fact but his eyes were smiling. "Let him know you are here and guide him out of the black hole he is in. He's searching for a way out…guide him to it."

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She held his hand tighter and called his name. "Ranger, mi Novio, open your eyes. Ranger, I'm right here. Mi querido, I am here. Open you eyes, come back to me."

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His face muscles reacted first to the pleading sound of her voice.

Then with great effort she watched as he fought with his lids to open his eyes.

They were tiny slits at first. His eyes wandering behind their lids…lost in his other world.

They were searching for the source of her voice.

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He had her hand in his. He was holding tight. He couldn't let go.

She was pulling him from the void.

He needed to find her.

He needed to see her.

And there she was…

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His eyes had finally found her and locked there, but they were questioning and empty.

Gradually he came back and those dark, wonderful eyes were full of realization and life.

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"Babe?" His voice was barely a whisper. "Babe?" He called out with all the strength he had.

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"I'm right here. I'd never leave you." Tears of utter thankfulness and joy kept her from seeing him clearly. She brought his hand up to her face to wipe them away.

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He hadn't much strength, and his throat was on fire as he tried to speak; but just in case this wasn't real…just in case this was the final goodbye…he had to tell her.

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"You saved me. You saved me." Tears were in his eyes as he touched her cheek and felt her tears.

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"No, Carlos, Tank and the guys found you. I've been here at the hospital since.

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He shook his head and repeated…"You, you…love…saved me."

As hard as he fought, the drugs and the effort pulled him back into sleep.

This was a warm and tender sleep. There were no nightmares or ugly memories.

There were just loving thoughts and peace…perhaps even hope.

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If he was indeed about to die, he was ready.

But if there was a chance of life, he would beg and bargain for it.

He saw a future for both of them that was wonderful and bright.

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He wanted Stephanie at his side to share everything.

No more secrets. No more hiding their love from the world.

He wanted to rejoice in their love…

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He wanted to live.