Lovely Darkness (Creeping Beautiful)

But you can’t make people wake up.

And right now, Wendy is sleeping deeply.

I know this because I put her there.

This whole mess is all my fault.

And I can say Merc, or Donovan, or whoever is her cure, but it’s not true.

I’m her cure because I am her lie.

Wendy is lifting my shirt up. I die a little with pleasure when her fingertips brush along the hard muscles of my abdomen. Then I just take over. Pull the shirt over my head, toss it aside, and reach for the button of her shorts.

I’m careful with her, just like always. But she’s rough with me. As I slip her shorts down her legs, she grabs fistfuls of my hair and pushes my face towards her hips. I don’t need to be asked twice. I place my palms flat on her hip bones and use my thumbs to caress the dusting of blonde hair between her legs. She lets out a breath when I part her lips and slip my tongue between them, licking little circles around her sweet spot.

Her knees almost buckle, she loves this so much. Everything about this moment feels happy. And it occurs to me that we haven’t had a fight since the wedding. We haven’t really been together since the wedding, but close proximity has never been a requirement for arguments when it comes to Wendy and me.

She is sighing. Breathing harder. And I can feel the quick beat of her heart all the way down in her hips.

“More,” she says. And it comes out like a plea.

“Lie back on the bed.”

The bed is just behind her. So she sits and lies back.

My hands immediately cup her knees and open her legs up. I have just enough time to catch her biting her lip as I lower my face back where she wants it.

Her fingers tangle up in my hair again, pulling and pushing as I lick her with more vigor.

“Yes.” She likes it. “Yes.” Her hips buck up and fall back down. Seeking more contact. More movement. More, more, more.

She just wants more.

I slip a finger inside her and her mouth opens wide with a gasp. She has always liked to be fingered. So I play with her for a little bit, sliding it in and out, adding another, then another. Stretching her open as she lies there, writhing a little with building pleasure.

She whimpers a little, then tightens her grip on my hair, like she’s asking me to stop.

My eyes rise up, seeking out her face over her tight belly and round breasts. But I find her unsmiling and serious. “What? What’s wrong?”

“You’re doing it just like you always do.”

“What?”

“Careful. You’re so careful, Nick.”

This again. “Because you’re special,” I say.

“No. It’s because you think you’re gonna trigger me. And I’m craving more, Nick. I want more right now. You don’t have to be afraid—”

“Wendy.” I cut her off. “No. I’m not afraid of you. This is not why I’m careful. I like going slow. And it’s good for you. It keeps your emotions even.”

She sits up a little, balancing on her elbows so she can see me better. “I don’t want to be even. I want to be surprised. I want to be shocked. I want to be—” She pauses to suck in a breath. “I want to be… controlled.”

I blink at her.

Not what I’m looking for.

She lets out a small chuckle. “No. Not like that. I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking… my mind is some kind of battlefield. It’s got dead bodies lying all over it. Fox holes, and mud, and shell casings everywhere. And if you take control of that, you take control of whatever weapons have been left behind. But there are no weapons left behind, Nick.”

What the fuck is she talking about?

“Just…” Her eyes plead with me. “Make me stop thinking. Just for a few moments. Take over. Give me what I want. Let me get lost in it.”

I don’t like this. Not one bit. She’s talking in metaphors and that… that reminds me of Indie.

So this is what I tell her. “You’re talking like Indie.”

“So?”

“Well—”

“Indie knows what she wants. And Nathan gives it to her exactly the way she wants it.”

“Are you talking about sex?”

“Of course I’m talking about sex. That’s what we’re doing, right? I’m tired of careful, Nick. And we’re so close now. So close to the cure. Just give me a little taste. Please.” The last word comes out soft and begging. “We’re so close,” she repeats. “Just a little bit.”

She’s done.

I can see it now.

She’s not waiting around for me.

“I’m not fragile. I’m strong.”

She loves me, but she has needs. And she’s counting on this cure I’ve promised her. She’s counting on it to make things normal between us. And for some reason, Wendy has got it in her head that normal is the same thing as rough.