Page 63 of Broken Melody
He rises from his place between my legs and grins at me, “Feel good, songbird?”
All I can do is nod. He smiles again as he kisses his way up my body, and gets into position. With a look at me, he pauses. A question. I nod, and shock him even more with my demand, “Fuck me, Maddox.” He grins, and enters me swiftly. I move my hips suggestively, a demand.
Adhering to my request he begins working his hips quickly and sufficiently. “Like that?” he asks me.
“God, yes.” My head is bent back, my breaths coming in gasps as I wrap my legs around his waist. “More,” I tell him. “I want more.”
“Fuck, Sailor,” he says and his body feels slick from a mixture of water and sweat, and I dig my fingernails into the chair. He moves faster, and I love what he’s doing to me. I meet him pound for pound. The look on his face, the sound of our bodies coming together over and over, the way he whispers my name under his breath, how his eyes roll back in his head – it all provides sensory overload, and before long I’m moaning out my release again, his quickly following mine.
It was fast, intense, and perfect. His head is next to mine and he doesn’t move, waiting to catch his breath. I begin rubbing my hands over his back, his shoulders, his arms. He pulls away from me, looks down into my face and kisses my lips before separating us and hands me a towel like a gentleman. “Shower?” he asks and I nod.
While wrapping myself in the towel, he does the same, wrapping one around his waist then leads me inside, up the stairs, and into a huge bedroom with an attached bathroom. We shower together and he sweetly washes every inch of my body, and even shampoos my hair. I return the favor and the whole time we laugh and whisper to each other like the lovers we now are.
He then calmly and efficiently takes me to his bed and we make love all over again. Each touch is like fire to my blood; each sweet whisper is water that puts out the flame.
Much later, facing each other, he asks, “Will you stay with me tonight?”
“Yes,” I tell him sleepily, my eyes feeling heavy.
“Sailor?”
“Hmm?”
“Why do you have a tattoo that says ‘good vibes’ under your breast?”
My eyes pop open having forgotten he would see my other two tattoos while seeing me naked. “I was drunk and it seemed like a good idea.”
He laughs, “Gotcha. And the date on your hip? That’s your son’s birthday isn’t it?”
That sobers me, “Yes,” I whisper.
He pulls me closer to him, kisses the top of my head, “I thought so. Do you…do you ever hear anything about him?”
“No. It wasn’t an open adoption. I don’t even know his name.”
“I’m sorry,” he says.
“It was my choice,” I tell him. “I thought that knowing would have made it harder, but the truth is, not knowing isn’t all that easy either.”
“I understand.”
“I did send my name with other information about me so they would have it. So, maybe someday…maybe…”
He pulls me closer and I love that I don’t have to say another word. He knows. “Maybe so,” he says. I’m not sure why but the words, even though they aren’t a certainty by any means, give me comfort and my mind slips back to the moment he kissed my scar. I almost tell him right then. Almost. But, I refrain, choosing instead to revel silently.
The next morning I realize that I slept the best I have in years. It was the first night since I can remember that I didn’t pray to God asking him to forgive me for abandoning my son. For the first time since his birth, I know without a doubt I made the right choice. And feel at peace.
