Amy goes straight to her and clasps both her hands, and for a moment I study the differences in her and my little sister. Mariska is free flowing like one of those yellow wildflowers scattered all over the hills in the spring. Amy is structured like a rose cultured in a greenhouse, a controlled environment. Still they manage to be close.
“I’m sorry I made you feel bad,” Amy says, hugging her.
“It’s not your fault,” Mariska hugs her in return. “I think I was just tired. I started to fall asleep or something. I don’t know what it was.”
“We never have to do it again—” My little sister shakes her head, but Mariska won’t let her finish.
“It’s no big deal. We can do it again.” Then her eyes drift to the kitchen. “Just not with that coffee press.”
Amy laughs, and I’m glad to see Mariska is able to joke. The rest of dinner is relaxed, if a little quiet. We pass around platters of dark roast and garlic-sweet potatoes while Amy catches my mother up on the latest Chicago gossip.
Occasionally I glance over at Mariska, and she’s quiet, her thoughts seeming to be far away. I don’t like it, especially after our feisty start this morning.
Strolling back to our room a while later, I stop her in the hall, pressing her back against the wall and leaning down for a kiss. Her lips yield and open to me, and her tongue curls around mine. Still, it’s off somehow.
“Do you feel bad?” I ask quietly, studying her eyes in the dim light.
“I guess my head hurts a little.”
It sounds more like an excuse than a fact from the way her eyes slide away from mine. Catching her chin, I make her look at me.
“It’s okay to be tired. Your body is working hard. I understand that.”
Instead of answering, she steps forward, into my chest, pushing her arms around my waist. I only hesitate a moment, puzzled. Then I feel a little shiver move through her, and I wrap my arms around her.
She holds me tighter, and I tighten my embrace in response, ready to share my strength with her. Fierce protectiveness rises hot in my chest, and I kiss the top of her head. “I’ve got you, babe.”
* * *
Mariska
The rain has stopped when I open my eyes the next morning. I passed a thankfully dreamless night, and the vision from yesterday feels farther away than before. Still, my heart beats faster at the memory—made even more horrifying because I don’t understand it. The ratted hair, my empty eyes, the restraints…
A shudder moves across my shoulders, and I roll onto my stomach pushing my face into the pillow. A large hand slides over my bare shoulder, and the warmth of Stuart’s body is at my back. I exhale a little sigh, melting into him.
“You’re here,” I sigh.
“You were very clear about not waking up alone.” His lips move to the back of my neck, rising higher into my hair, and this time I shudder for a different reason. I feel his erection at my back, and heat unfurls low in my pelvis. My bottom lip goes under my teeth and I bite down.
“I hate a cold mattress where you’re supposed to be.”
Soft kisses followed by the scruff of his beard trace a line down my neck to my shoulders, and I moan again, arching my back up to meet him. With his knee he moves my thighs apart, guiding the head of his cock right to my entrance and sliding in with a forceful thrust.
“Oh, yes!” My head pops up, and I gasp. “Stuart!”
I’m on my stomach, and he’s behind me, rocking harder, one arm gripping the headboard and the other holding his weight off my body. I press both palms against the mattress to meet him from behind.
We’re moving together in a rhythm all our own, and as the fire grows hotter in my core, I groan, trying to move faster, send him into me harder. My orgasm is teasing and close, and I can hardly bear the sweet torture.
“Come for me, baby,” he groans in my ear, and I hear the break in his voice.
Moving his face to my neck, he kisses me roughly behind my ear and down the back of my shoulders. My thighs quiver, and I fall over the edge.
“Oh, god! Oh!” I’m shuddering and gripping, trying to find a way to keep this going and not explode at the same time. Moving my head to the side, I kiss his forearm, slipping out my tongue to taste his heated skin. Salt is on my tongue, and I’m breathing fast.
He’s behind me, pulsing, rocking slower, his pelvis cupping my ass with each heavy thrust. Gradually he slows, going with me to the end. Until with a deep sigh, he drops beside me on the bed, tracing the palm of his hand down my back.
“Better?” His deep voice causes my eyes to flutter open.