Well-if you're still interested in reading an update of this story, thank you! I have committed to completing both this tale as well as "Things Hidden" before I start work on a second manuscript for publication. (My first was completed a few weeks ago and is currently in the hands of an editor). My plans are to hopefully complete this saga in February and Things Hidden in March. Wish me luck!
All of that being said, I need to alert my Downton readers to a problem taking place within other fandoms, including the Once Upon a Time fandom. Several writers are being targeted by a forum here on called Critics United. Basically, if a reader thinks our story violates 's user guidelines, they can report that story to this group. and a member of this group which is not officially associated with in any manner reads the fic and decides whether or not it meets his/her standards. I've had a story reported for being listed as M when they believe it is MA content and therefore not allowed on this site. I've been told by CU-not -that I should change it or take it down.
I'm choosing to do neither.
All this to say, I refuse to deal with CU as this group is made up of fellow fic writers who have taken this task upon themselves and choose to spend their time harassing writers and asking them to either change or take down stories with which they disagree. If they report me to and the actual powers that be decide to remove my account, please know that you can find all of my writing on AO3 at /users/lalakate . I shall also be posting updates on tumblr, so it will continue to be available to you.
If you are a fellow writer, make sure you back up your work.
Now that that unpleasantness is out of the way, I do hope you enjoy this update, even if it is about 84 years late. And thanks so much for reading! -Laura
"Matthew. What a surprise."
The words flow out of her with an ease she does not feel. But she holds her insides together, fighting like mad to keep her composure as her past and present collide with unexpected force.
"It is," Matthew states, looking at her as if she's grown another head. "What-what are you doing here?"
Her mouth opens, but only air comes out.
"She's with me," Charles states, abandoning the book in front of him to give Matthew his full attention.
The words are a direct challenge, and she feels their fire prickle her skin. She gazes at Charles, watching him eye Matthew with an edge she's never before witnessed.
"You're with Mr. Wesley? How marvelous! Good for you, Mary. Good for you."
The words are from Isobel, and Mary makes eye contact with the older woman, wanting to jump over the table and hug her for the unexpected show of support.
"I must say, you look wonderful, dear," Isobel continues, nudging Matthew along as he seems to be caught in the same stupor as she. "Except for your leg. Have you injured it?"
"Yes, unfortunately," Mary manages, moving her fingers to keep her focused on the present. "I sprained my knee a few weeks ago in the park."
"My oaf of a son evidently tackled her," Jillian intervenes, looking up at Isobel with interest.
"He knocked me out of a horse's path," Mary puts in, rewarded by Matthew's mouth dropping open another few centimeters.
"And hurt your knee in the process," Charles adds, reaching over to hold her hand. His skin is hot, burning hot, even warmer than when they'd been getting each other off last night in bed. "I'm truly sorry for that, darling."
The kiss to her hand is deliberate, and she gazes back at him, wondering what he's feeling as her ex makes as unexpected an appearance as his did just days before. He's shaken, she realizes, nearly as much as she is by this turn of events.
"I've told you repeatedly that you're forgiven," she states as Charles leans in a bit closer to her than he probably should at his own book signing. They're creating a bit of a spectacle, one some of the people in line are straining to see.
"I still feel terrible about it," he states. "Hurting the woman you love is never something to take lightly." Some stray Ahhhh's and How lovely's are heard from those waiting nearby.
"So you two are together now, I take it?"
Matthew's question hovers over the table, his eyes set on hers in some sort of challenge.
"We are," she replies, squeezing Charles's hand tighter than she probably should.
"And how did you meet?" Matthew asks, ignoring the remarks of a few disgruntled patrons who don't wish to be kept waiting any longer.
"At a bar, of all places," Charles replies, upping the ante for her benefit. "And it was love at first sight, at least on my part."
Readers begin crowding as close to the table as they can, peering over each other to watch the romantic drama playing out in front of them like some sort of odd reality show.
"Don't be silly," Mary states, turning the schmaltz up another notch. "I was a mess that night."
"You could never be a mess, love," he croons, leaning over to kiss her cheek. The awww's from the crowd nearly topple them over this time, notching Mary's pulse forward another few paces.
"Don't they make a lovely couple?" Jillian chimes in. "Can you imagine how beautiful their babies will be?"
"Wait. You're pregnant?"
The words are part question, part accusation, and she looks back at the man who uttered them with as much calm as she can muster as the crowd catches its breath.
"No," Mary replies. "Not yet." A few mutters of disappointment are heard from the line. "But we're trying."
Charles goes into a coughing fit beside her as Rex steps in and forces him to drink more water while part of the crowd breaks out into spontaneous applause.
"Oh my God," Jillian exclaims, turning on her son with the speed of an Olympic sprinter. "Why didn't you tell me that the two of you are trying to have a baby? I mean, I'm thrilled, but don't you think you should propose to her first?"
Just ask her is yelled out from someone Mary can't identify, but it's Matthew she's fixated on, the wedding ring on his finger practically screaming into her face.
"How do you know that he hasn't?"
For a moment, Jillian looks like she might faint.
Charles motions Rex back to his side, pulling the shorter man down to ear level.
"Can you give a us a break?" he asks. "Five minutes or so?"
Rex sizes up the situation that has brought the line of autograph seekers to a stand-still as someone cries out Propose, man!
"Take ten," Rex says. "That gives you time to go to the loo and possibly sneak out of here to buy a ring."
Charles nearly coughs up a lung at that.
He smiles, politely excuses himself from the table, and finally stands to move to Mary's side, giving her a look she can't quite read and isn't sure if she wants to. For God's sake, she just practically told the world and his mother that they were all but engaged, and for what? To one-up her ex-boyfriend, that's what.
"You're not going to kill me are you?" she whispers, trying to find enough moisture in her mouth to swallow.
"Not in public, anyway," he breathes, flicking a brow in her direction that makes her shiver.
He then helps her up before reaching down and giving her the crutches, turning to face Isobel and Matthew with smooth smile Mary knows he doesn't feel.
"Why don't the two of you join us back here for a few minutes," he states, his grip on Mary more possessive than not. "I could use a breather, and it seems that you have some catching up to do."
She stares at him in a half-panic, but he squeezes her arm gently as he dots a kiss to her cheek.
"You're doing splendidly," he assures her when Matthew moves away. "You definitely gained the upper hand with the baby and engagement comments just then."
"I'm just glad I didn't send your mother into cardiac arrest," Mary whispers as they move slowly to a small, private room behind the elevators. "Or you, for that matter."
"Thick skinned ogre," Charles says. "Remember. And Good God, if you think Mum liked you before, prepare yourself to be doted upon now that she thinks we're planning to get married and trying to give her grandchildren."
She laughs nervously, wondering what in God's name possessed her to tell Matthew that she and Charles were trying to have a baby. No. That's a lie. She knows exactly why she said it. And she wonders if his resulting reaction will be worth it.
"So you're not angry?"
Charles pauses and looks right at her, melting a few knots of worry with a soft kiss to her nose.
"I'm not angry," he replies. "But with my family the way that they are, you might be an engaged woman as soon as my divorce goes through. You've been forewarned."
It's her turn to cough this time.
"So," Matthew begins, looking from her to Charles and back to her again once they'd reached the small room. "You're really together."
"Yes," Mary states as Charles helps her into a seat. "We are. Does this surprise you?"
He eyeballs her directly before breathing out deliberately.
"Yes," he finally answers. "Quite frankly, it does."
A vein in Charles's jaw twitches, so she reaches out to squeeze his hand.
"Why?" she shoots back. "Don't you think I can be happy with anyone besides you?"
Matthew looks from her over to Charles, clearly feeling both uncomfortable and outnumbered.
"Of course not," he utters. "It's just that-" He pauses, looking around the room before returning his gaze back to her. "The last time I saw you, Mary…"
"I was begging you not to get married," she finishes for him. "I know, Matthew. I was there."
His face is red now, the same shade it had been during their numerous arguments.
"I was in a bad place then," she continues, willing her heart to notch down its tempo a decimal or two. "Pretty much rock bottom, to be honest. It wasn't one of my proudest moments."
"That was only weeks ago, Mary," Matthew continues. "Yet here you sit with a new man, looking all put together and discussing the possibility of having children with him. Don't you think that's a bit sudden?"
She looks over his shoulder to see Jillian and Isobel chatting together as if they hadn't a care in the world.
"And that's a problem because?"
Her question hangs between the three of them as Charles's hand squeezes hers.
"Well, it's not, really," Matthew admits. "Just very unexpected. Especially after-"
He stops himself again, swallowing down the rest of his sentence as Charles meets his stare head-on.
"Especially after the fact that she wasn't sure about having children with you?"
Her heart hammers so hard she can barely hear, but she fights to keep her gaze steady, hoping to God she's doing a better job than she perceives.
"So you've discussed this?" Matthew asks. "Our past history?"
"Of course we have," Mary rebuts. "Just like I'm sure you've discussed me with Lavinia. It's a part of being in a relationship, Matthew, at least so I've heard."
Matthew nods and rubs his chin, looking as if he's seeing parts of her for the first time.
"And you've decided that you do want children after all?"
It's somewhere between an accusation and a question, and she feels Charles stiffen beside her.
"I never said that I didn't, if you remember," she states, her heart cinching in remembrance for the child she lost. "Only that I wasn't ready at the time that you asked."
Pure confusion gazes back at her from across the table.
"It's a better time for me than it was when we first discussed starting a family," Mary elaborates. "My business is going well, and Charles is in a position where he can work from home." She leans towards Charles, reveling in how he wraps her up with his arm, wondering what he's thinking about all of this baby talk when they've only just admitted that they love each other and haven't even had actual sex.
"But you haven't known each other that long," Matthew observes. "Isn't it a bit hasty for you to be making decisions like this?"
"How long did it take you to propose to Lavinia after we broke up?"
He swallows, licking his lips before staring down at his hands.
"About three and a half months," he admits.
"And have you ever regretted it?"
His eyes meet hers, holding on for a few stolen moments that belong to another lifetime. Everything seems almost surreal, as if she's having a conversation she's only imagined in a reality she'd never anticipated.
"No," Matthew finally states as she feels Charles exhale beside her. "I haven't."
"I'm glad," she returns. "Because I finally have no regrets, either. And that is one hell of a feeling."
It's true, she realizes, the reality of it making her skin tingle and her fingers fidget relentlessly. She feels Charles caress them, and she suddenly wants to whisk him out of here and back to her flat where she can kiss him senseless and fuck him into the hardwood, brace or no brace.
"And you're happy?" Matthew questions, looking at her as if he can't quite imagine such a thing.
"I am," she says. "Happier than I've been in a long time."
The words are deliberate, but she's amazed to find they're also true. She shakes her head and laughs then, wondering just why in God's name took her so long to let go of a tangled past and move forward. Matthew stands there looking down at her before tossing her a smile that used to devastate her.
"I'm so glad to hear it. Truly, Mary. I am."
"You should be," Charles cuts in. "Mary's an extraordinary woman, you know. She deserves all of the happiness that this life has to offer."
Matthew nods as he rubs one hand through his hair.
"That she does," he agrees. "And it would seem she's finding that with you, Mr. Wesley."
Charles looks over at her and blinks, awaiting her permission before he stands and extends his hand.
"It's Mr. Blake, actually," he says. "Charles Blake. C.B. Wesley is my pen name for privacy reasons."
"Charles, then," Matthew replies, taking his hand within his own. "I'm Matthew."
"I know," Charles returns. A sudden silence descends.
"Well, then," Matthew states, rubbing his hands together. "I believe mother and I should be getting along. She's a huge fan of your writing, Charles, but we wouldn't want to take up any more of your valuable time."
"Did I ever sign your book?" Charles asks, turning his attention to Isobel. "Please forgive me if I overlooked it in the excitement of the moment."
"You overlooked nothing," Isobel smiles, reaching forward to shake his hand once again. "And I'm very anxious to read your next book whenever it comes out."
"Write down your address, and I'll send you an advance copy," Charles states, making Isobel beam as if she'd just won the lottery.
"Thank you so much," Isobel replies. "I'd love that."
"He hasn't even offered me an advanced copy," Mary cuts in. "Consider yourself lucky."
Isobel stares at her before leaning down to give her a hug.
"I'm so glad to see you again, Mary. Truly I am."
Mary holds on to Isobel a few seconds longer than she should, fighting back tears of relief that her image hasn't been tainted for this woman she both adores and respects.
"So am I," Mary replies as they draw back from each other. "You have no idea."
Isobel looks from Matthew to Charles then back to Mary before giving her hand a squeeze.
"I think I do, dear," the older woman states before turning her attention to Charles's mother. "So noon on Monday for luncheon?"
"Noon on Monday," Jillian returns, giving Isobel's arm a squeeze as Mary, Charles and Matthew gape at the two women as if they'd all just stepped into an episode of The Twilight Zone. "So lovely to meet you, Isobel."
"Lovely to meet you, Jillian," Isobel replies. "Just as it is an honor to meet your son."
"We'll have to discuss our future grandchildren," Jillian beams as Matthew's eye round to the size of saucers.
"Wait," Mary injects. "Are you and Lavinia expecting?"
He shakes his head, his face turning that deep shade of pink that never fails to amuse her.
"Not yet," he confesses. "But we're trying."
The words settle in without pain, and she breathes in deeply, absorbing a reality she finds fits her far better than she anticipated.
"Good luck, then," she states, finally able to smile back at him and mean every crease.
"The same to you, Mary," Matthew states as he reaches for his mother's arm. "Such good luck." He pauses then and turns directly to Charles.
"Be good to her."
He then walks away with Isobel in tow, leaving Mary to stare back at another man who's now looking at her like she's the cat's meow.
"Believe me," Charles breathes with a soft stroke to her cheek. "I intend to do just that."
"Did your mother really agree to go to lunch with Matthew's mother?" Mary questions as Charles carries her into the flat.
"Yes," Charles sighs as he sets her down on the sofa. "She did. It would seem that the two of them hit it off rather well."
"And you really met Matthew," Mary states as she leans back into the cushions. "That really happened?"
"It did," Charles hums. "And we both lived to tell the tale." His phone buzzes then, and he looks at it, grimacing at the words before glancing her way.
"My mother," he states, holding up the phone in her direction. "She's letting me know that she and dad think we need to make our engagement official after my divorce is finalized before we proceed with trying to get pregnant."
Her cheeks heat up with the reminder of the conversation that nearly sent Jillian Blake into the stratosphere.
"I'm sorry about that," she says. "I'm not sure what possessed me to imply those things."
"You did far more than imply, darling," he fires back, making his way towards her before tossing his phone on the table and heading back to the kitchen. "You practically did everything but set a date and pass out cigars." He makes his way back bearing two cups of tea, setting them down on the table before looking her in the eye. "I had three readers congratulate me after we went back to the signing table, you know." She tosses him a glimpse from underneath her lashes, a look she knows gets to him every time.
"Don't think you're getting out of this that easily," he quips, pointing a finger in her direction.
"Out of what?"
"Out of what, my ass," he mutters.
"I'm rather fond of your ass," she hums, reaching around out to give it a pinch.
"You're the cheekiest woman I've ever met," he exclaims as he manages to jump out of her reach.
"And you said every bit of what you said today to get at Matthew."
He then sits down beside her, and she leans towards him, losing her fingers in his hair as she begins to massage his scalp.
"Does that bother you?" she asks, hoping she hadn't misread him most of the afternoon.
"Not really," he confesses. "I was so bloody proud of you for standing your ground and looking so glorious that I would have agreed to practically anything you said."
She swallows as her lips find his forehead, amazed at how warm he always seemed to be.
"And now?"
His eyes open then, and he stares into her, cupping her cheek as his vulnerability begins to show.
"Now I can't help but think about how lovely it all sounds," he admits, his gaze falling to her leg. "Us getting married, having a baby, me staying home to write novels and change nappies while you go off to make London a more beautiful place."
She leans in and kisses him then, needing the contact, craving the assurance that all of this isn't a pipe dream she's construed in a needy mind.
"It does sound rather lovely," she breathes onto his lips. "But are we insane to be discussing it so soon?"
He shrugs and looks back up at her.
"Well, seeing as I've practically moved in already…"
She laughs then and tugs him towards her, watching him avoid her knee as he leans over the rest of her body.
"Honestly, Mary. I'm so very proud of you. How you handled seeing Matthew today…"
"How I didn't drink myself into oblivion and pass out in your car," she cuts in, earning herself a soft kiss to the tip of her nose.
"Seeing that the strongest beverage available at the book signing was coffee, that would have been quite an impressive fete," he muses, tracing a soft trail along her neckline with his finger. "Although it probably would have done Rex in."
"It's a wonder he didn't implode with all of today's excitement," she smiles as she touches a dimple.
"When that one lady started giving us fertility pointers, I thought he might faint," Charles chuckles. "Especially when she started describing the best positions for conception."
"As if my knee would allow for any of them at the moment," she sighs, eyeing her brace in frustration.
"As if my back would allow me to try half of them at all," he grins, nipping her chin with his teeth. "Speaking of body casts, I'd probably be in two, although that one technique involving the bedpost did intrigue me."
She pulls him into another kiss, her tongue pressing in and initiating a slow tango with his that warms her from the inside-out. God, he feels good, and she tugs his lower lip through her teeth, eliciting a low growl from him that makes her nipples stand on edge.
"I'm ridiculously proud of you, C.B.," she grins as his mouth moves to that spot behind her ear. She moans as his teeth and tongue tease her, and she tugs his hand down to her breast before kissing him again, open mouthed and heated, desperate for more.
"I was rather charming," he muses, giving her nipple a pert squeeze as she gently whacks his shoulder. His fingers keep up their work through her blouse, making her want, making her ache, making her want everything and every bit of him now.
"Take me to bed, Charles."
She traces his lips with her tongue to emphasize her point as his point becomes more emphasized by the second.
"Aye, aye, my queen," he breathes as he slowly pushes himself into a sitting position before standing and gathering her up into his arms. She laughs as he hoists her closer, amusement morphing into a moan when his mouth claims a spot just between her neck and her shoulder.
"Don't drop me," she orders, feeling his resulting chuckle against her skin.
"Believe me, the only dropping I have in mind tonight involves my trousers," he mutters, allowing his fingers to cup her ass in a tease that drives her insane. The few steps to the bedroom are made in haste, and he deposits her gently on her mattress before going after his necktie with a vengeance.
"I think someone's as horny as I am," she teases as his tie is tossed over his head, watching his eyes darken as she slides off her blouse and toys with her bra.
"I'm always half-erect where you're concerned," he confesses. "But you have no idea how turned on I've been ever since you told Matthew that you were happy with me."
Her fingers pause as her bra falls forward, half-exposing her breasts as she swallows hard.
"I meant it, you know." She breathes in and shakes her head in wonder as her brows crease together. "If you told me a month ago that I'd feel this way, I would have said you were insane, but now…" She allows her bra to slide forward until it hooks on to her finger, raising a brow in his direction that reels him in. He kneels before her, leaning in to kiss her shoulder open-mouthed, breathing his want into her pores, upping her craving for him another ten notches. She caresses his head, losing her fingers in thick, wavy hair, losing another piece of herself to his keeping.
"Why do you think I'm so damned aroused?"
His fingers toy with her pants, pulling her upright with one hand while the other eases them down. She closes her eyes, losing herself to the sensation of fingertips on bare flesh, of cool air on her thighs, of a want that goes deeper than it did only yesterday.
"Take off my brace," she instructs as he eases her back onto the bed.
"Mary-"
"I want to be naked with you, Charles. Completely and utterly naked."
The words hit their mark, and he looks back at her with near reverence as he kneels before her again, kissing just above the brace, turning her dull ache into a persistent pulse.
"We'll have to be careful," he whispers as she uses her bra to tug his face in her direction.
"I know," she agrees. "But I'm tired of waiting. And I need this tonight."
He rises up and meets her, mouth to mouth, tongue to tongue, his buttons opening beneath her fingers, her heart opening beneath his touch. His shirt falls to the floor, her brace is removed with a tenderness that nearly undoes her, and her panties follow with an ease that makes her tingle everywhere at once.
"You okay?" he asks, looking up at her in concern as he strokes her lower leg.
"I'm fine," she insists. "This is actually a good position for me."
He smiles then and bites his lower lip, standing up to slide down his pants and his boxers, taking away any doubt she might have about just how much he wants her as they pool around his feet.
"You are glad to see me," she hums as he steps out of them. He's all male, dark hair and toned muscles, and she wants to pull him down on top of her so she can kiss and sample naked skin.
"You have no idea," he grins, swivelling his hips and prompting her to laugh and lick her lips. Then he's kneeling again, kissing his way up her uninjured leg, pushing it open little by little until he's so close to where she wants him that she could scream.
"You'll let me know if you start hurting?"
He's rubbing her inner thigh, his thumb teasing her just there, his breath teasing even deeper regions.
"Yes," she breathes, willing to agree to anything if he'll just fucking touch her.
"Then lie back."
His words run over her like warm honey, and she does as he instructs, her legs dangling gently over the side, her body open for him. She shivers, anticipating what's to come, reaching up to trace her own nipple as he gently hooks her bad knee over his shoulder for support.
"This alright?" he breathes, moving in so close she can sense him just there.
"Yes," she insists. "Get on with it, will you? I'll tell you if anything hurts."
He chuckles, nudging his nose in close, caressing around what's begging for him, making her throb and clench. Her fingers moving into his hair, nudging him forward just as his lips make contact.
"Patience, love," he murmurs before flicking his tongue and making her hiss. "I plan on taking my time."
"Then hurry up," she insists, another lick making her throw her head back onto the mattress. Soft kisses follow, then another lick, and she realizes he's sampling all of her, driving her desire up another notch.
"I've wanted to do this forever," he breathes, his words caressing her just before he draws her into his mouth and sucks. "So I plan on taking my time."
"You plan on driving me crazy, you mean," she mutters as he places a flat lick right over her clit.
"Yes," he confirms as words desert her. "That is part of my plan, in fact." Little flicks turn into broad strokes, and she clenches her thighs as she tugs on her own breast. "That's it, darling," he coaxes, his voice now huskier than it was just seconds ago. "Give into it. Feel everything. This is for you."
"Shit, Charles," she pants, unable to keep from pressing nails into his scalp as her body thrums tighter and tighter. He paints her like a landscape, stroking her artfully, hinting at peaks before sliding to safer terrain, delving into depths that leave her breathless and hot.
"I love tasting you, " he continues, licking her folds. "Kissing you. Sucking you. Feeling you come apart in my mouth."
Some primal sound claws its way up and out of her as he slides a finger inside, and he steadies her lower body as her hips rise off the mattress, keeping her knee as secure as he can.
"Let go for me, Mary. You don't have to hold back."
Another finger enters just as he sucks at her again, and she lets out a wail she's sure the neighbors can hear. Then just like that, she's close, on the edge, skimming her own abyss of absolute pleasure from the man sketching his love for her onto her body. Her muscles tense, her every nerve shoots to high alert, and she tosses her head back and forth, searching, seeking, needing until her mind short-circuits and she explodes from the inside-out.
"Oh my God," she cries as he laps at her, continuing to press in and out, drawing out her orgasm as long as he can. She lets him, moving with him until everything's too sensitive, until his mouth is too much. She pulls his face towards her, pushing her upper body up on her elbows as he rises to his feet, depositing her knee back to the mattress with utmost delicacy before leaning down to kiss her open-mouthed.
The taste of herself is thrilling, as are his lazy, calming circles between her legs still helping to coax her down gently.
"You okay?" he asks before she claims his mouth again, swallowing his question whole.
"You have to ask?" she manages as he nips her upper lip playfully. He gives her that lopsided smile that does things to her as she reaches out for him and gives him a squeeze. Shit, she's done for, and she knows it. "Inside me," she commands, her tone deep and raw as she draws him towards her entrance. "Now."
He pulls back to look at her, concern fogging his need.
"But your knee-"
"I don't give a fuck about my knee," she insists, devouring his mouth with need gone wild as she loses her fingers in his hair. She draws back and stares at him, all heavy-lidded and swollen-lipped, hair sticking out everywhere and sexy as hell. "But I do want you to fuck me. Got it?"
He chuckles, burying his face in between her breasts before dotting a kiss to her chest and looking back at her.
"Your wish is my command," he breathes, taking a nipple into his mouth before she can utter another word. He sucks her until she's ready to lose her mind, then switches to her other breast, making her crave his touch further down. But he backs up then and stands erect, wrapping her good knee around his waist as he positions himself right where she wants him.
"Like this?" he asks, checking to make sure this position isn't bothering her knee, and she reaches one arm out as far as she can, opening her palm so his face can make contact. He takes her hand and kisses it before letting it go, smiling as she nods and reaches forward to help guide him in.
"Oh my God," he mutters as he begins to push inside her. His eyes close, his face creases, and she's mesmerized by his expression until he moves in deep enough that her own eyes roll back in her head.
"Yes," she replies, her words more growled than spoken. He's taking his time, making sure to be careful, pulling out a bit before going in deeper, giving one last thrust until he's buried to the hilt.
"Shit, Mary," he mutters, as he just stands there for a moment taking everything in. She feels pleasantly stretched, he feels amazing and warm, and she closes her eyes, enjoying the sensation of being thoroughly loved and filled.
Then he starts to move.
It's a slow dance at first, a rocking and caressing, stirring up need little by little, adding sparks to primed kindling. A tempo's established, a rhythm is found, and the pace begins to increase, one pulse at a time. Her body lights up again, her nerves catch fire as he shifts to the left then finally to the right and finds a spot that unleashes everything.
"There?" he asks as she practically comes off the bed, steadying her bad knee as he continues to move.
"Yes," she hisses, the smolder he'd stoked now a full-fledged wildfire. "Don't stop. Please."
He picks up the pace, raising her good leg a bit higher, allowing him to move in even deeper and practically knocking her out of her own mind. Words fly out of her she can't identify as he keeps stroking all the right places, as she starts sweating, as curses of pleasure fill the room until she breaks open. She cries out as her body curves in on itself, as wave after wave hits her with force, as sensations overtake reason and she comes out of her own skin, feeling more alive than she has in years.
He's still moving, but he's close, she can see it in the tense lines of his face, can sense it in the hard set of his jaw. She reaches up to stroke his arm, earning herself a grunt that makes her feel immensely powerful, so she glides her fingers up and down his skin, wanting to watch him come apart inside her.
"Let go, Charles," she breathes, feeling the sheen of sweat on his skin. "I want you to." His brows crease further, his swallow fills the room, then he's panting, pounding inside her at a pace that's losing control. "That's it," she hums, noticing how he physically responds to her voice. "That's it, baby."
"Shit," he cries out as her nails trace lines on his arm. He's burning now, his skin like a furnace, this new lover of hers. Then he jerks and cries out, his movements sporadic as he continues to push until he collapses on top of her, all spent, all warm, and completely hers.
"Christ, Mary."
He gazes up at her through unfocused eyes, and she pulls her face to hers, kissing him gently. Tongues stroke and soothe, breaths mingle in spent passion, and he sighs into her shoulder, shaking his head.
"God, when you started talking to me like that…"
She laughs softly, burying her fingers in that thick hair of his, massaging his scalp until he's putty in her hands.
"You like that?"
His index finger traces a circle around her left nipple.
"I'm addicted."
They touch and stare, bound by a new connection, one born of shared bodies and private words. Then he pushes himself up too quickly, staring at her leg in concern before melting before her smile.
"It's alright?" he asks.
"It's alright," she assures him. "You didn't hurt me at all."
He looks at her in a way he never has before reaching for her hands and tugging her upper body gently towards him, dotting a kiss to her lips.
"I never want to hurt you, Mary. I love you too much."
Noses stroke, foreheads touch, and she closes her eyes to absorb the scent of him, all primal and musky in the aftermath of sex. He's hers now, she knows this, the delay in his divorce proceedings a technicality, the unknowns before them something they can take on together. It thrills and frightens her, this step forward into another person when her previous journey nearly broke her in half. But she feels safe here with him, with this man who's seen her at her worst, and she wants to give to him all that he gives to her, even if she's not exactly sure how to do it.
"I love you, too," she whispers. "And I know you've got me."
They need no other words after that.
He helps her to the bathroom after fetching a towel to wipe between her legs, but she welcomes the stickiness, feeling sated and treasured in more ways than she can count. He guides her back into bed, this time propping her knee up on pillows before sliding in beside her and holding her close. They're still naked, still connected, and she smiles to herself as the sounds from the city fade into oblivion and post-coital sleep plots its course. Eyes flutter shut, her mind soaring on the realization that she is stronger than she realized and that this man beside her knew it all along.
It isn't until the next day that an ugly text arrives, one he'll try to downplay but eats at him all the same. It's not until tomorrow afternoon that she secretly contacts Matthew, asking something of him that surprises even her. And it isn't until morning that the realization hits her out of nowhere that in the midst of taking muscle relaxers and pain killers over the past few weeks that her birth control has been all but forgotten.
