Page 102 of The Anchor Holds

Elliot’s expression didn’t change at the knowledge that I was barren by choice, which shouldn’t have surprised me, yet it did. I couldn’t help but expect the worst of him. I was constantly on guard, waiting for him to be just like all other men. For him to reveal that the empathy and understanding he displayed was just a thin veneer to get me comfortable enough so he could strike.

“That means…” He shifted on the sofa to pin me down, hovering over me. “That we can practice as much as we want without any unintended consequences.” He pushed the robe from my chest, lowering his mouth to my nipple and sucking loudly.

My body vibrated with sensation, need and something much deeper. He was still attracted to me, still wanted me, even though he knew I was barren and would never bear his children.

His cock strained through his underwear, pressing against my exposed and already soaking core.

“You have nothing else to say about this?” I was already breathing heavily.

Elliot lifted his head from my nipple, eyes gluing to mine. He didn’t speak. Instead, he reached down to free his cock from his boxers, not giving me a moment to prepare, just thrusting into my pussy, filling me to the hilt.

I cried out in surprise and ecstasy.

“That,” he grunted, “is all I have to say about that.” His eyes never left mine as he plunged in and out in precise, harsh, exquisite strokes.

“In case it wasn’t clear, you are part of my future, Calliope Derrick.” He punctuated his point as he impaled me with his cock.

I saw stars, my orgasm rushing forward, silencing any protests I might have had to his point.

Yet deep down, I didn’t have any protests.

I wanted, more than anything, to be a part of his future.

But we didn’t always get what we wanted.

I’d have to settle for being a part of his present. And then, eventually, his past.

Twenty

Harvest Moon — Neil Young

TWO WEEKS LATER

“What thefuck?” A loud ringing had barged into my consciousness. It wasn’t my ringtone or alarm, sounds that my body was accustomed to.

It was a grating sound, one that instantly pissed me off. “Is there a tsunami coming?” I groaned as Elliot shifted his body in the direction of the jarring tone. “Because that’s the only answer I’ll accept for something so offensive at…” I scrambled for my own device, now free from Elliot’s embrace.

I squinted at my phone. “At 5:00 in the morning.” I ignored the multiple texts and emails, slamming the phone back down on the side table with a clatter.

I’d assumed Elliot would do whatever was needed to stop the noise, then once he had done that, he’d bring me back into the warm, comfortable cocoon of his arms. I couldn’t sleep without it, without him, these days.

But instead, Elliot got out of bed. His behavior so confusing, it took me a second to process it as he turned on the bathroom light so he could put on his clothing.

At first, I was worried there was some kind of family emergency, something to do with Clara. My stomach curdled in dread. Elliot was moving quickly, in a rush. But a glimpse at Elliot’s relaxed face had me at least secure in knowing it wasn’t something terrible.

“What the fuck is going on?” I propped myself up on my elbows.

Elliot looked up at me, a tender expression on his handsome face. “Go back to sleep, Calliope. Sorry to wake you.” He said it as if I would just go back to sleep passively, asking no questions. As if he didn’t know me at all.

And he knew, despite the ungodly hour, once I was awake, I was awake.

“What, you’ve got another girlfriend or something?” My tone was light, joking, trying to sound like I didn’t care. But I did. Care. Very much. In fact, if that was a woman, I might have had the urge to go set her house on fire.

Elliot chuckled. “No, babe. I require every single one of my wits ready and available for just you.” He hurriedly put on his jeans. “I’m a volunteer firefighter.”

I sunk back onto the bed. So if I were to set some innocent woman’s house on fire, then Elliot would be rushing to save the day.

Figures.

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