Bright Haven: An Amberly Novella Page 2

  Mike unbuttoned his pants and I stopped moving, mesmerized. He slid the zipper all the way down, and manipulated the top of his pants to extricate and untangle his cock from his clothing. I felt him looking at me, and let my eyes move back to his gaze. He smiled at me and slid his pants off his hips. His erection stood at full attention, and I marveled at his size and girth. Even though we did this all the time, I sometimes still wondered how all of that was going to fit inside me.

  But it did.

  My heart pounded, and I suddenly wanted him. Right then. I unfastened my pants and removed them as fast as I could until I stood in front of him, bare naked. My cock ached. I took it in my hand and squeezed. Mike watched me, and then wordlessly motioned for me to come closer.

  I straddled him, our cocks touching, my ass spread due to the width of his corded thighs between my legs. Mike kissed me and I gripped both our lengths together. It took both my hands to get all the way around them, and I slowly slid myself up and down against him.

  Mike reached into a crack in the couch cushion and retrieved the lube we’d left there the night before.

  “Sorry, I was going to put that away, but I forgot,” I said between kisses.

  Mike chuckled. “It’s okay. I knew it was here. I decided to leave it, so we could use it tonight.”

  Of course he did. I didn’t mind, because then he popped open the plastic lid. The sound punctuated the quiet winter night, and stood out against the crackle of the fireplace. By now, I had some kind of Pavlovian response to the sound, and my heart sped up.

  Then he rubbed his big calloused fingers between my ass cheeks, the lube still a little cool. It felt good. So good. I pressed myself toward his touch and he chuckled as he stroked and massaged me. I gripped our cocks harder and rocked my hips back and forth. He slid one large blunt finger inside me and I groaned. It felt so good. “Mike!” I gasped.

  “Mmm,” he said. He upped his ministrations, both in speed and intensity until I was practically trying to fuck myself on his finger. Before I could get too far, he removed his finger from me, and refilled his hand with lube. I felt the loss and emptiness immediately and whined, wanting him back, but also excited knowing what was next.

  Half the delight of sex is the sweet torment of the wanting, the pleasure of the anticipation. But I was getting past that point, and I could tell Mike was too. He slid his hand over mine and took possession of his, and stroked himself in lube.

  I knew what to do. I was so turned on, I worried I would come all over Mike without doing another thing. I gripped his shoulders with my hands and positioned myself over him. Mike slid his cock head against my hole over and over, sending shockwaves of pleasure through me.

  Finally I could take it no more, and impaled myself on his rock hard girth. I saw stars from the pain and pleasure, and then as my body adjusted, I pressed down further, sliding up and then pushing myself down as far as I could. Mike’s green eyes looked so dark in this light, and he held me in his soft gaze. He leaned his head back and allowed me to fuck myself onto him without any resistance or interference, smiling and gasping as I progressed.

  Finally, I was completely filled. It felt impossible, against the laws of physics. Mike pressed against me from all sides, filling me up, my tight channel stretched to the limit and gripping him in the ultimate embrace. Once seated, I wiggled my hips a little, enjoying the feeling of his balls on my ass, and my cock base right up against his body.

  Mike groaned at my movement, and then pressed his hips up toward me. “Fuck me,” he whispered. He gripped my cock in his lube covered hand and stroked me mercilessly, sliding around and over the top in a swirling up and down motion. All my muscles tightened at the pleasure and he momentarily closed his eyes in reaction to the tight pressure that applied to his buried cock.

  I remembered to relax and then joined in his rhythm, slowly sliding myself up and down his hot throbbing cock. Every time he dragged over a certain place inside me, a crash of pleasure ran through me.

  These months together meant every time we had sex we knew each others’ bodies even better. First time sex is exciting, sure, but couple sex? That’s where the real heat is. In perfect sync, we fucked, our speed rising faster and faster. There was nothing else in this world except me and Mike. I loved him so much, and I felt his love for me, as our bodies joined and pushed higher and higher to an ultimate shared ecstasy.

  Right on the edge, I squeezed my eyes closed and keened. Mike doubled his efforts and held me up a little so he could get some leverage and fuck me from underneath. I rode the waves, feeling his hand sliding up and down my cock, pistoned from underneath by his merciless cock. I held myself there, right on the edge, until Mike groaned and I felt him thicken and jump deep inside me. Just knowing he was coming, just feeling his pleasure, made the floor fall out from under me and my own release exploded in a rush of blinding heat. At the same time he gripped me tighter and shoved himself harder, faster, his cock releasing hot and wet inside me.

  Relentless, Mike did not let go and instead milked me for every last bit of my orgasm, and I helplessly let him. Finally spent, I sagged forward and he held me close in his protective arms. He smelled like clean sweat, manly musk and soap. And sex. We both smelled like sex.

  Mike stroked me all over, touching me as if making sure I was all there, and then pulled me in for a sweet kiss. Then he pressed his forehead against mine and said in his deep and soft voice, “I love you, David.”

  I sighed and leaned into his ministrations. My unfocused gaze wandered to the fire lower but still crackling in the fireplace. The wood had turned black and grooved, glowing from the inside with the light of the fire inside. A piece split off one of the larger logs and fell onto the grate.

  “It’s still snowing,” Mike said, and reached across the couch to pull the big soft blanket around my back and wrap me closer to him.

  We stayed like that for a while, as the daylight further waned. It was almost dark when we gathered our clothes and made our way upstairs to our bedroom to get dressed and think about dinner.

  Still basking in the glow of our lovemaking, I noticed in the mirror that my cheeks still held a high flush to them. Mike walked past me and smiled, patting my ass as he went by. He too had a rosy glow.

  As I came down from the single-minded bliss we’d created, I hoped Mike had forgotten about what he’d said about our Christmas Eve guest list. I needed a Christmas without my overbearing father looming over my life.

  Enjoying the winter weather, I layered a soft hoodie over my clothes to spend the rest of my December evening with Mike. I could smell food cooking in the kitchen, and smiled at my luck of being with such a domestic stud.

  Before I could get all the way down the stairs, the doorbell rang. It was probably a neighbor bringing a gift. Mike and I had made English toffee and wrapped it up in cute packages with red bows for our neighbor gifts. We all gave each other treats that we shouldn’t eat. I’d save them for the Christmas Eve party and feed them to our guests and spare my waistline. Though something fresh baked sounded really great right now. Maybe Mike and I could have just a little dessert after dinner…

  I daydreamed about holiday cookies as I floated down the rest of the stairs and with a smile on my face opened my front door, Bacon hot on my heels to see who was there.

  My anticipation faded into shock. My parents stood on my porch, huddled under an umbrella in winter gear, with worry and fear in their eyes.

  Mike came up behind me and stopped short when he saw my parents. He put his hand on my back, in a protective gesture, and stood with me.

  “Mom?” I said, my heart thudding with worry as I looked back and forth between them. “What’s going on? Is everyone okay?”

  3

  David

  “Everyone is okay,” my mom said. She stood with her arms folded to ward off the cold, and stamped her white boots to shake off the snow. She wore a white down coat, a white hat, and white mittens to match her boots. Even in my annoyance and s
hock, I admired how stylish my mother was.

  I glared at my father, annoyed that they worried me and disturbed my evening. “Then why are you here? You made yourself pretty clear the last time we spoke. And as I recall, so did I.”

  My mother’s lip trembled and she looked to my father. A long awkward moment passed between us while he looked like he was trying to figure out what to say.

  Enough of this. This decision had already been made.

  “All right then,” I said. “I don’t want to be rude, but we’re letting all the heat out of the house.” I started to close the front door. I had to gently push Bacon back with my foot to do it. He always thought everyone who came was there to see him. To be fair, he wasn’t usually wrong.

  “Son, is there any way we could come in,” my father said before I could shut them out. “I would really like to talk to you.”

  “We would really like to talk to you,” my mother added, pleading in her eyes. She rubbed her mittens together. I knew her. This was a nervous gesture more than a heat generating one.

  Mike put his arm around me, and I felt my body shake, despite my best attempts to stop it. My autonomic nervous system was reacting to the stress of their appearance. So many years of emotions and anger and regret and conditional love had passed. These were still my parents. But that is precisely why all of that still hurt so much. Because they were my parents and hurt me anyway.

  “That depends,” Mike said from behind me, his deep voice soothing my nerves. He squeezed me with his arm. “Are you here to cause your son more emotional grief? Because I’m afraid I can’t allow that.”

  Even mired in my defensive reaction, I noticed my father blanch at Mike’s words. “That is the last thing we want,” my mother said.

  Mike gave them a wary look and gave them a curt nod. He kept his arm around me and guided me back from the door, giving my parents space to come in. When they crossed my threshold, I felt like some kind of milestone passed. I just didn’t know if it was a good or bad one.

  So much for my peaceful Christmas.

  My mom looked around, admiring our house. “This is lovely,” she said. “Just beautiful.”

  My father looked around too but I think had the sense to not say anything about it. He needed to explain his presence, not engage in small talk.

  “Thank you,” I said, my voice flat, like a child being forced to say the magic words to an unwanted guest. Which, let’s face it, is exactly what they were.

  Mike sat down by me on the couch, and my parents sat in the arm chairs facing us. Bacon followed us into the room, and stood next to my mother, wagging his tail. My dad removed his hat when he came through the door and now held it in his hands. My mom twisted hers, wrapping her hands in the plush cabled knitting as she fidgeted. She looked down at Bacon and back up at me, and then reached down and stroked his silky fur. He laid down by her side and looked up at all of us like he was supposed to be the center of attention. I didn’t know if our dog was an ambassador or a traitor.

  “I came to extend an olive branch,” my father said.

  I blinked, trying to understand what he was saying. I mean, I knew what that meant, but I couldn’t compute how that translated to our current situation or what he intended to do. I stared at him and waited for him to say more.

  My father studied my face, and then continued. “I was wrong. So wrong. I know a lot of water has passed under the bridge, and I don’t know how I can, but I want to make this right.”

  I pressed my lips together and inhaled deeply. I looked at my mother, who wiped a tear from her eye. A million emotions filled me and I sat up straight. “Wrong about what?” I said, frowning at my father. I needed to hear him say it — all of it.

  He blinked at me and rotated his hat in his hands as he spoke. “I suppose it wouldn’t do to just say, I was wrong about everything. But I was. I’m sorry about everything. I’m sorry I interfered in your personal life. I’m sorry I held the business over your head.”

  I sat still. Everything inside me felt like I was made of stone. They both looked at me like they expected me to say something, but I had nothing. I didn’t know what I wanted, but whatever this was — it was not enough.

  “I realize it is going to take more than one apology to fix this,” my father said. He sat back, and sighed. In that moment I realized how old he looked. I hadn’t seen my parents in months and they both looked so much older. My mom reached over and took his hand, and I noticed how wrinkled both of their hands were. These were my parents’ hands? They were such towering figures in my life. As a child, your parents are tall, strong, invincible, and they held all the power.

  Now looking at my parents I realized something that hit me like a revelation. They were getting old. Something in my heart softened, but only a little bit. Even old people can make someone’s life horrible. It’s not like once you hit seventy you magically turn into a good person.

  I looked at my mother. She never directly did anything against me, but she didn’t help me either. She didn’t stick up for me, that I knew of. There was no evidence that she ever had. She looked really distressed though. I felt Mike’s solid warmth beside me and thought about how I would back Mike up no matter what.

  But Mike wouldn’t do something like my dad did. I would never have to worry about standing by my man when he was wrong. Not like this.

  Still, I wanted to hear what my mother had to say. “Mom?” I said, my eyes telling her everything. She met my gaze and I could tell she felt my reproach. “Why didn’t you ever help me?”

  “I should have stood up for you more,” she said, her voice cracking. “I didn’t know. It was a different time, and I didn’t know any better. But you are my son and I should have known anyway.” She burst into tears and buried her face in her hands. “I’m so sorry, David. I failed you.”

  As if sensing the mood in the room, Bacon backed away from my mother, who’d stopped petting him, and laid down on the floor beside me.

  My eyes flicked to my father, and he looked like he was going to be sick. I’d never seen him apologize like this in my life. But could I believe it? A dark thought occurred to me.

  “You’re not dying or something are you?” I said to my dad, my voice pointed. The possibility made me feel a jumble of anger, grief, and frustration all at once.

  Despite himself, my father laughed, just a brief grim chuckle. He shook his head. “No. I’m glad I at least had the sense to try to do this before something like that happened.” He looked up at me and said, “But in a way I am, because I’m not getting any younger and a life without being in my son’s life is not a life I want.”

  Another disturbing thought occurred to me. “Wait a minute. Is this because you are trying to retire?” I narrowed my eyes at my father, taking the measure of his reaction.

  He shook his head, his mouth turned down in a sad line. “No, son. I know I held inheriting the business over your head, assuming you would do what I wanted, but this isn’t about that.”

  “So you don’t want to retire?” I raised an eyebrow, and leaned back into Mike’s support. “I mean we both know that isn’t true.”

  My father sighed. “No, I do want to retire. But this isn’t about the vet clinic.” He looked at me, his eyes meeting mine back and forth as he gauged my response. “The truth is, you can have the clinic if you want.”

  I opened my mouth to retort, but before I could say anything he continued. He held up his hand as he spoke. “You can have the clinic if you want, same kind of deal we had talked about before — or not if you don’t want. This isn’t about that. I only keep working these days to stay out of your mother’s hair.”

  My mom smiled a little in the corner of her mouth, though she tried really hard to control it. Even I had to allow myself some amusement at his admission. My dad drove my mother crazy when he was home all day every day.

  “Okay. I don’t even know how to reply to that. I have a good job, at another clinic,” I said, confusion clouding my words. I’d bec
ome a vet, just like my dad, and he’d dangled taking over his practice over my head for years. Then he threatened to take it away if I didn’t break things off with Mike. I picked Mike. It became a running joke between me and my friends: Did you know that when you get a degree it’s good in more than one place? I got a job in another clinic in the next town, and though I miss Sarah, my friend and one of the vet techs, it’s been great to have my personal life out of my professional life.

  “We are going off track here,” my mother said. “Forget about the clinic. We don’t care about anything except having a relationship with you. And with our grandchildren.”

  Ah yes. The grandchildren. I ground my jaw while I thought. I guess Danielle really isn’t letting them see the girls. I made a mental note to get her an extra awesome Christmas present. “Is this actually just about the grandchildren?” I said. Sadness and pain flooded into my heart. Did my parents actually want to atone for the past or were they just trying to get past me to the girls?

  My mother shook her head and wiped a tear away. She looked to the side and swallowed hard. Then she faced me, her eyes shining with tears. “This is about you, David. You are my baby boy. You are our son. We want to mend this with you.”

  I spent so many years hardening my heart against my parents’ invasions of my identity I found it hard to thaw out based on one conversation. I stared at them both for a long moment, and then managed to grind out, “It’s nice to hear that you are sorry. But as you can see, I’ve built a nice life without your interference or support.” I tried not to sneer the last word, but it was hard. “I’m sure you can imagine that it’s hard for me to believe you or to allow the idea of letting you back in to hurt me more.”

  My mom looked up at me, stricken. Her mouth hung slightly open and I knew this was killing her. But all those years before were killing me. This was self preservation.