Chapter 5: 8 Months later
The knock was tentative, three soft raps against the flimsy door. Dan wiped his hands on a grease-stained rag, his mind still back at the bakery, the feel of Troy’s nose crunching under his fist. He opened the door.
Megan stood there, a suitcase at her feet, her face a pale moon in the shadowed hallway. “Surprise,” she said, the word fraying at the edges.
For a beat, he just stared. Then he moved, pulling her into him so hard her feet left the ground. She let out a small ‘oof’ and then her arms were around his neck, her face buried in his shoulder. He breathed in the scent of her shampoo and airport air. Without a word, he bent, hooked an arm under her legs, and carried her inside, kicking the door shut with his heel. The suitcase was forgotten.
“Dan,” she laughed, but it was a nervous sound. He didn’t stop. He carried her through the living room, past the half-empty whiskey bottle, and into the bedroom. The late afternoon sun cut through the slatted blinds, painting tiger-stripes on the unmade bed.
He set her down gently, his hands coming up to cradle her face. His thumbs smoothed over the faint freckles on her cheeks. “You’re here.”
“I’m here,” she whispered, her brown eyes searching his. “I saw your text. ‘Handled it.’ That’s all you said. I got on the next flight.”
“You shouldn’t have.”
“Don’t be silly.” Her fingers went to the buttons of his work shirt. “Let me see you.”
They undressed each other with a slow, deliberate focus that was its own language. Her fingers fumbled at his belt; his work-roughened hands pushed her cardigan from her shoulders. Fabric whispered to the floor. When she was in just her bra and panties, a sensible cotton set, he traced the swell of her stomach, the silver lines like faint rivers on her skin. She shivered.
“You’re so beautiful, Meg,” he murmured, his voice thick.
She reached behind to unclasp her bra, letting her full, heavy breasts fall free. He bent his head, taking a nipple into his mouth, sucking gently until she gasped and arched into him. He guided her back onto the bed, the springs groaning in protest. He knelt between her legs, hooking his fingers in the waistband of her panties and drawing them down. The thatch of brown curls was as he remembered, lush and soft.
He didn’t speak. He just looked, his gaze a physical heat, before he lowered his head.
His tongue found her center, a long, slow lick that made her jolt. “Oh, Danny…” she breathed, her hands flying to his sandy hair. He worshipped her with his mouth, learning the rhythms of her body anew. He licked and sucked, circling her clit with a focused intensity that soon had her hips rolling off the mattress. He slid two fingers inside her, crooking them, and she cried out, her inner walls clutching at him. Her first climax came quickly, a shuddering wave that soaked his chin. He didn’t let up, gentling his touch, then building her again, relentless. She came a second time, her thighs tightening around his ears, a high, keening sound torn from her throat.
When she was boneless and gasping, he finally drew back, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. Her eyes were dazed, loving.
“My turn,” she whispered, pushing at his shoulders.
He lay back, and she straddled his thighs, her gaze fixed on the thick, hard length of him standing up from a nest of coarse hair. Even fully aroused, a flicker of apprehension crossed her face. She wrapped her hand around the base, her fingers not meeting. She leaned down, her auburn hair brushing his stomach, and took just the broad, ruddy head into her mouth.
She worked at him with tender diligence, using her tongue, her lips, her hand pumping what she couldn’t take. She moaned around him, the vibration shooting straight to his groin. “You taste so good,” she sighed, coming up for air, a string of saliva connecting her lip to his glistening tip. She took him deeper, gagging slightly, then pulling back, her eyes watering. “You’re just so big for me, my darling. So big.”
Her struggle, her willingness, her whispered endearments were more erotic than any skilled technique. He fisted his hands in the sheets to keep from thrusting up. When he was trembling on the edge, he gently pulled her up. “Enough. Come here. I need to be inside you.”
He positioned her on her back, lifting her hips with a pillow. He knelt between her legs, the enormous head of his cock pressing against her slick, swollen entrance. He met her eyes. She nodded, biting her lip.
He pushed in, an inch, two, a slow, inexorable stretch. Her breath hitched. “Oh, goodness… oh, Danny, wait… it’s so much.” Her hands pressed against his chest.
He stilled, his whole body vibrating with the effort. He bent, kissing her forehead, her eyelids. “Breathe, sweetheart. Just breathe for me.”
She took a ragged breath, then another, her body gradually softening, accepting. He sank deeper, a low groan tearing from his throat as her tight, wet heat enveloped him. It was a fight, a glorious, tight fit. When he was fully sheathed, they were both sweating, joined in an almost unbearable intimacy.
He began to move, a slow, deep rock. Each stroke was a full, profound possession. Her legs wrapped high around his back, her heels digging into his ass, urging him deeper still.
“Yes,” she chanted, her maternal reserve incinerated by sensation. “Oh, yes, right there, my love. You fill me up so completely. It feels… it feels like heaven.”
He drove into her, the bed frame knocking a dull rhythm against the wall. His world narrowed to the sight of her face, flushed with pleasure, to the feel of her breasts shaking with each thrust, to the wet, sucking sounds of their joining. He could feel every internal flutter, every clench of her orgasm building again.
“I’m gonna come,” he gritted out, his control shattering.
“Inside me,” she begged, her eyes wild. “Please, Danny, I want to feel it. Give it all to me.”
With a final, brutal thrust, he obeyed. He plunged deep and stilled, a raw shout ripped from his chest as he pulsed into her, release pouring from him in hot, endless waves. It triggered her own climax, a silent, shattering convulsion that squeezed him milkingly, drawing out every last drop.
He collapsed atop her, spent, his face in the crook of her neck. Their hearts hammered against each other. The room smelled of sex and sweat and her perfume.
Long minutes passed. The sun stripes had crawled across the floor. He finally rolled to the side, taking her with him, keeping her close. She traced the fresh bruises on his knuckles.
“Tell me again,” she said softly.
“I love you” he whispered
“Megan?” He said softly as he nuzzled her neck “What’s going on? What are you doing here?”
She offered a weak, tremulous smile. “I hope you’re not disappointed,”
“Don’t be stupid,” he said, closing the door, the room once again a cocoon of neon glow and dust. “Just tell me.”
She took a shaky breath, her maternal composure crumbling. “The boys… all three of them had moved out, six months ago. The house is so quiet, Dan. It’s like a tomb. And Jason and me… we’d done nothing but argue and fight for that entire time. Every day. Over nothing. Over everything.” She wrapped her arms around herself. “It was like we were strangers throwing rocks at each other in the same cage. So I… I said I needed some time away. I just… I got on a plane. And I came here.”
She came here. Not to a spa, not to a girlfriend’s. Here. To him. To the one person whose love for her was an unquestionable, foundational truth, however complicated its shape.
“It’s okay isn’t it, that I’m here” she asked
“Of course, you can stay here as long as you want
She looked at him then, her soft brown eyes searching his weathered face. There was no censure there, only a deep, weary understanding. She knew the cost of his loyalty. It had always been this way.
Her hand drifted from his knuckle, down over the hard plane of his stomach, to the waistband of his jeans. Her touch was not tentative, but purposeful. A reclaiming.
“I need you to connect us forever, Danny,” she whispered, her voice thick. “… and put your baby in me”
He groaned, his body instantly answering hers. his enormous cock again coming to life, thick and heavy. She licked her lips, a flash of the adventurous girl she’d been, mixed with the hesitant woman she’d become.
“It’s so much,” she breathed, wrapping her fingers around the base. They didn’t meet.
“It can be yours forever ,” he said, his voice rough. “If you want.”
She guided him, positioning herself over She wasn’t seeking slow completeness. She was seeking obliteration. She sank down onto him in one slow, agonizingly tight descent, her head thrown back, a long, ragged moan tearing from her throat.
“Oh, goodness… Danny… it stretches me so… so wide…”
She began to ride him, not with the deliberate rhythm of before, but with a desperate, driving need. Her full breasts swayed heavily, her wide hips grinding in frantic circles. The wet, slick sounds of their joining filled the room, a raw and filthy counterpoint to the hum of the ancient air conditioner.
“Yes… right there… oh, that fills me up, it fills up all the empty spaces…” she chanted, her words coming in hot puffs against his neck. She was loud, gloriously noisy, confessing her pleasure with every gasp. “I feel you… so deep… I’ve never had anything like you… never…”
He gripped her generous hips, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of her backside, helping her piston up and down his length. The sight of her, of her lush brown bush framed above him, taking every impossible inch, was the most profoundly erotic thing he’d ever witnessed. His control frayed.
“You’re so fucking tight, Meg,” he grunted, the obscenity falling from his lips like a prayer. “So hot and wet for me. Take it. Take all of it.”
She leaned forward, bracing her hands on his chest, changing the angle. He cried out as he slipped even deeper. Her nipples brushed his skin. Their eyes locked, and in that moment, it was just them—the brother and sister, the protector and the protected, the two lonely people who’d always been each other’s first and most forbidden harbour.
The climax built like a desert storm, swift and devastating. He felt her inner muscles begin to flutter and then violently clamp around him, a series of intense, milking spasms. Her wail was uninhibited, shattered.
“Danny! I’m… I’m coming! Oh, please!”
Her climax triggered his. With a final, brutal thrust up into her yielding heat, he emptied himself, a hot, pumping flood that made her sob his name again as she collapsed onto his sweat-slicked chest. They lay joined, panting, wrecked.
In the shuddering silence, with the neon painting their sated bodies, she nuzzled into his neck, her breath evening out. The empty house, the arguing husband, the cruel words in the bakery—all of it was blessedly, temporarily, gone. There was only this sunbaked tomb of a room, and the profound, terrible peace they found in each other’s arms.