Page 41 of Ardently Yours

He makes a sound in his throat, something between a groan and a growl. “If you feel empty, then slide it inside that sweet pussy.”

I don’t go deep. The shallow pressure and vibration is enough to have me clenching my teeth and practically wailing through them in pleasure.

“That’s it, Charlotte. You don’t know what I’d give for that to be me, sliding inside you. Feeling you squeeze around me. Making us both feel so fucking good.”

The tension ramps higher, even as, inexplicably, something inside me loosens and uncoils. My body softens yet begs me to give it more. I barely register that I’ve slid the vibrator inside all the way. That I’m using it on myself in time to the sounds I hear as Arden works toward his own orgasm. There’s no thought left in my head. I’m nothing but sensation.

“Are you close?” Arden’s voice sounds tight.

“Almost.”

“I can picture you. So beautiful as you bring yourself to climax. Do you need to work your clit to come, or can you get there like this?”

“I’m going to . . . get there . . . like this.”

“Tell me, Charlotte, when your body spasms in pleasure. Tell me when your pussy clamps down on that cock inside you and you shake from how good you feel.”

Despite his instructions, when the wave hits, I nearly forget to speak, sucked into the undertow of a climax unlike anything I’ve experienced in my life.

My words, when they come, are nearly incoherent. “Arden. Now. It’s—” A broken keening escapes between my teeth as I convulse and shudder in electric spasms of pleasure.

The sound of Arden . . . his own hand shuttling faster and faster . . . then a grunt and . . . stillness. Nothing that I can hear or see or feel as Arden comes with me, his release evident by the silence, alone.

Reality descends between us as my heart rate calms. There’s something almost clinical about removing the vibe from my body, turning it off, and setting it aside. As if every bit of its magic was tied to Arden’s voice, and in his absence, it’s been reduced, once more, to a piece of blue silicone.

My bathwater is lukewarm now, and a shiver rattles through me.

Maybe he heard my shudder because he asks, “Are you all right?”

“I can’t remember the last time I felt this relaxed. I’m going to sleep like a rock when I get into bed.” It’s not a lie. My body feels replete, but my heart is heavy. We should be curling up into each other’s arms, not getting ready to hang up the phone.

His chuckle skates across the deepest parts of me, warming me a little from the inside out. “Dream of us, Charlotte. Another one of your beautiful dreams.”

Tiny Dancer

Three Days Later

September 4, 1998

Dear Arden,

I’m having a freaking meltdown here, and I need you to talk me off the metaphorical ledge because I can’t even breathe right now.

This child has me at the end of my rope. I swear to God, the way she dives right into doing things with zero fear cannot be normal. I told you about catching her sitting on top of the refrigerator last week. I told you how she climbed on top of the kitchen table, then fell off. I put her in time-out every time, and she says she’s sorry. Then she does it again and says she forgot, and I believe her.

It’s like she has a thought, then just does that thing without a moment’s hesitation. I expected that of a two-year-old, but she’s three and a half.

I found out today that her cousin, Deirdre, told her that if she hung from monkey bars long enough, it would make her grow. Since she hates being the littlest cousin, she’s become obsessed with hanging off things. I told her that’s not how it worked, but she’s convinced it will. She says she can feel herself “stretching” taller. That’s what she was doing on the fridge, and when she was on the table, she was trying to reach the little chandelier above it. She hung off the bathroom towel rack yesterday and brought the whole thing crashing down onto her head.

Today, on our way home from BSU, I stopped at my parents’ place. While I was talking to Mom, I looked over and caught her ON TOP OF THE DECK RAILING. If I had checked on her TWO SECONDS later, she’d have been hanging two stories above the ground or already fallen!

I completely lost it on her. And when she didn’t seem to care that I was yelling at her, I yelled louder until she cried. Then my mother scolded me for making her cry because “That’s not the way to handle this.” I know Mom is right. I didn’t mean to raise my voice, but I have never been so scared in my life, which is saying something because I’ve experienced some terrifying things.

In my head, I could see her hanging from that railing, then falling to the concrete patio. Even now, I can’t stop seeing it.

I feel like a monster that I lost my cool with her. That isn’t who I thought I was. But it’s almost worse that I’m still trying to remember how to breathe an hour later, and she’s forgotten all about it. She does the exact same things at daycare too.

She tries to do headfirst “flips” off the end of the sofa. She puts pillows on the floor, then pretends the footboard of her bed is a diving board.

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