"Not until you release those tears you're holding back and get it out of your system."
"I'm not crying. I detest crying. There's nothing to cry about. She's dead and gone and crying won't bring her back. I tried to stop her, but she wouldn't listen. She wouldn't listen and now she's dead. Oh God, Hugh, she's dead. Why didn't she listen to me?” With that, the dam burst and she began crying in earnest. Fighting Hugh, she tried to free herself and get away from him, not wanting anyone to see her like this.
Hugh locked her in an iron grip, refusing to release her. Instead, he gathered her even closer to his body, rocking her and making soothing noises. Still, she fought him even as she fought against the grief, until she'd exhausted her strength. Giving in, she slumped against him and let it out—all the sorrow and the conflicting feelings she felt for her sister that she loved yet now could admit that she hated with equal passion. She cried for years of mistreatment by her mother, but most of all she cried for what should have been and never was.
The tears went on and on, until all that was left were the hiccups. Hugh lifted her off of his lap and went into the bathroom. She curled up on her side, facing away from him. He climbed back under the covers and pulled her close before handing her the tissues. She wiped her still streaming eyes and blew her stuffy, clogged up nose. Her face felt hot and swollen, and her body sore.
Hugh curved around her back like a spoon, with her head tucked under his chin and his arm around her waist, holding her tight. She closed her eyes and tried to stop the flow of the tears tracking silently down her face. They wouldn't stop. Memory after memory, of good times and bad, flowed through her mind like a river. With each memory came a fresh flood of weeping. She needed to stop crying. She had to do something get her mind off of the past. Enough was enough.
She turned in his arms, shifting to face him, and pushed steadily against his chest until he was half lying on his back. Then she threw an arm around his waist and began to spread kisses all over his chest.
"Uh, Mary Elizabeth. What are you doing?"
It should be obvious. If he had to ask, she wasn't doing it right. She pushed him again until he lay completely on his back. Her hand slid down to stroke his rapidly hardening cock.
"Honey, that feels good, but I don't think this is a good idea. Let's wait until you're feeling better."
Mary Elizabeth ignored him. She threw her leg over his and straddled his thighs. Sliding backwards, she worked her way down his torso with her mouth.
"Mary Elizabeth, stop. Let's discuss this. Baby, please. I don't think you know what you're doing."
Why won't he shut up? She didn't want to talk. Couldn't he tell?
Hugh had a decision to make. He didn't want to take advantage of her fragile emotional state. It might jeopardize his long-term objective, but he couldn't allow her to continue with her current course of action.
His body jerked in reaction to the feel of her hot, moist breath on his penis. She grabbed his cock with both hands and was frantically sucking the head. This was nothing like before. Her head was bobbing up and down like she was in a race to finish him off as fast as possible. He reached down and tried to pry her off of him. She fought against him, tightening her teeth on his cock in warning when he persisted. Hands in the air, he surrendered and let her have her way.
This wasn't right. He wasn't sure how he'd envisioned their first night together, but this wasn't it. How to stop her without hurting her or worse, inflicting pain upon his most valuable asset? While he was strategizing the options available to him with the least amount of collateral damage, she abruptly stopped.
Rising above him, she positioned her body and tried to impale herself on his cock. It didn't work. One, the woman obviously didn't know what she was doing. Two, she was tight and dry. She was not forcing him inside, no matter how hard she tried. Finally, she gave a shriek of frustration and slapped him on his stomach. “Help me!"
He casually reached out and caught both of her wrists in his hand and pulled until she lay flat on top of his body. Then he rolled them until he was on top. “If you want me to help you, you have to tell me what it is you are trying to do.” His tone was utterly reasonable, but there was a hint of steel underneath.
She held his gaze for only a moment before her eyes to slide away in shame. Tears once more filled her eyes. She was such a failure, just like her mother stated. Here she was, naked and willing, and she couldn't even seduce the man into having sex with her.
"Unh, unh, unh. Look at me."
She gathered her courage and then raised her eyes to meet his, which immediately drilled into hers. “I'm sorry, Hugh. I just wanted a distraction, something to take my mind off of Babs and all of the memories. I just can't deal with them right now."
He studied her for a moment, gauging her sincerity. He was quiet for so long that she began to squirm. “I can help you, if that's what you want. But know this. This won't be a one-time deal. You will not use me tonight and then toss me away tomorrow. Understood? Know what you're asking because if we do this, it's just the beginning. There won't be any turning back. I won't let you go. Do you accept my terms?"
She blinked at him while nervously chewing on her bottom lip. He could almost see her mind churning as she cautiously examined his words, looking for the trap contained within. He watched her like a predator with his prey, willing her to agree to his terms. One simple yes, and she was his.
"I understand. I accept your terms,” she said solemnly.
His beast roared in triumph, but the man was more subdued. He wouldn't pass up this opportunity, but it wouldn't be the fierce claiming his nature demanded of him. That would have to come later, and there would be a later. She was exhausted, both physically and emotionally. She didn't really want sex. What she wanted and desperately needed was sleep. She sought a way to shut her mind off so she could rest, and he needed to mark her, claim as his. He would give them what they both desired.
He repositioned his body so that his legs lay on the outside of hers, his erection heavy against her mound. He braced his forearms on either side of her head and resting his weight on them. Then he lowered his face until they were eye-to-eye. Her eyes immediately shied away. “No, look at me. Look me in the eye."
His eyes were two inches away. She didn't she'd ever been this close to anyone in her life. Eyes were such strange things. From a distance, his appeared to be black. Now that she was close, she could see there were specks of gold in his eyes. She felt her eyes losing focus.
"Hey, keep your eyes and your mind focused on me."
She snapped back to attention, unaware that her mind had drifted. This was so uncomfortable. If the eyes really were the windows to the soul, she wondered what hers revealed. Could he see what a failure she was? Did all her disappointments show? Maybe her mother was right. Maybe she was too old and too fat to be trying to attract a man's attention now. What did she have worth offering?
"Mary Elizabeth.” He cupped her face, and put the tip of his nose right against hers. “Look at me. Not through me. I need you to focus, honey. Don't let your mind wander. Breathe with me. Inhale when I exhale. Focus your attention on me. Can you do that for me?"
"I'll try."
"Good girl."
Mary Elizabeth concentrated on matching her breathing to his. She focused on the feel of his chest, rising and falling; the soft caress of his breath against her lips, all the while staring deep into his eyes. When he inhaled, she exhaled and when he exhaled, she inhaled. On and on it went—inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale—until his very essence permeated her body.
It was the most intimate thing she'd ever done. She never realized just how rarely she gave complete eye contact with anyone. Mary Elizabeth saw him, really saw him, like she was looking into his soul.