His pace is fast, but I match it thrust for thrust. Soon we are both panting and sweating, our bodies slipping over each other's as we give in to our animalistic need to mate. While I know it's not true, I pretend this is Ian claiming me for his own, marking me so no other male will interlope. I relish the feel of his body over mine, in mine. I claw his back, dig my nails into his ass, and bite his shoulder. I will mark him too, for he is mine and I will let no other woman have him.
It becomes harder to stay in sync, each of our thrusts more erratic than the one before. I am quickly approaching another orgasm and my inner muscles tighten, clenching around him. He grunts and pushes harder, no longer pulling out as far, instead keeping up a steady pressure punctuated only by short, sharp thrusts.
His head is hanging down beside mine and I turn my head and bite his jaw. He turns and gives me a kiss, his tongue delving into my mouth before pulling back to suck on my lower lip. With a firm bite to my lip, I come.
My back arches off the bed and I cry out loud and long. Ian continues thrusting, speeding up even more which I'd find hard to believe if I had been paying attention. But I'm not. I'm in the middle of the best orgasm of my life. It radiates out from my core in rippling waves that reach my entire body - from the tips of my toes to the roots of my hair. There is a second wave, and a third, and even a forth. By this time Ian is coming too, and my attention is drawn back to him as he freezes inside me and lets out a strangled cry of his own. He begins convulsing, a few last spastic thrusts into me as he releases, hot spurts shooting up into my womb.
The feeling brings tears to my eyes and I begin crying. Even though I have an IUD, all I can think about is how it would be to carry Ian's baby, to be the mother of his children. My love for him is so strong, and our situation so hopeless, that I completely break down.
He lays on me a few moments before he realizes I'm crying. Lifting himself, he looks down at me, worry in his eyes. I curse myself then. I'm so fucking stupid. I just had earth-shattering sex with the man I'm sure is my soul mate and instead of enjoying a post-coital glow, I'm blubbering over our non-existent babies.
Trying to salvage the moment, I quickly say, "I'm okay, I'm okay. Really. Don't worry." But it's too late. His curtain has already shuttered his heart from me, and I see regret take hold in his gaze.
"No," I say as he pulls out of me and begins to get up. "No, Ian, please." I'm sobbing now, wanting so badly to have him stay. "Please, come back to bed for a few minutes. I don't want this to be over yet. Please, Ian!" I sound pathetic and I'm angry at myself for begging, but I have no other choice. I need to be in his arms again. I need to feel his breath on my neck. I need to be with him. Always.
Ian dresses quickly, not bothering with underwear or socks, pulling on only his jeans, a shirt, and a pair of shoes. The next minute he's out the door.
I stare at it for a moment, shocked. He left me here, in his house, without a word. He left me. Alone. Again. Heavy, heart-wrenching sobs take control of my body and I curl up into a fetal position and give myself over to my misery.
I'm not sure how long I cry, but I finally stop. Not because I feel better, but because I'm suddenly hollow. There is nothing in me. Except in my womb. Ian's semen is still there and I'm loath to move least it slip out. I stay curled in a ball on his bed, cold, alone, and broken.
Without the distraction of unabated wailing, reality slowly seeps in. I need to get up. I need to go to the bathroom and get dressed. I need to leave Ian's house and get home to my apartment.
I force myself to move. I do not want to be here when he returns, although I'd put money on him not returning until he was sure I had left. He's probably hidden somewhere across the street, waiting to return as soon as I'm gone.
Not wanting to keep him from his home, I move as quickly as my trembling limbs will allow. I'm unsteady and shaking, but manage to dress, use the bathroom, and gather my things. I'm about to leave when a thought strikes me.
I turn around and search for a piece of paper. Finding a pad on the counter, I grab a pen from my purse and write,
Sunday, January 10th
1:34am
Dear Ian,
Thank you for making love to me tonight. It was the most amazing experience of my life.
I love you now, and I will love you always. I want you to know that. I know you think you are too broken for love, but I have felt your love and it has made me whole.
I came to L.A. in search of my perfect life, and I found you. While not perfect, you are exactly what I've been searching for all these years and although we cannot be together, I will always consider this move a success.
I will never regret meeting you. You will always have both my heart and my soul.
I love you.
Kelli
Tucking it behind a magnet on his fridge, I let myself out and walk home in the misty, silent night.
Chapter 11: Should I Stay or Should I Go?
I arrive at the pub at 6pm that night, as usual. I've spent the entire day crying and sleeping, and it's obvious: my nose is red and raw from all the tissues, my eyes are puffy and have the dead look of a Great White shark. But I'm here, and I'm going to act my ass off, pretending nothing is wrong. My smile may not reach my eyes, but I've plastered one on my lips.
I enter through the front, needing to have the lay of the land, but praying I'll spend the night in the kitchen. Upon entering, I do a quick sweep: Hal's clearing tables and Ian's behind the bar; no one else is in sight. The only crew member in attendance is Ben and I thank the heavens for that.
I give Hal a quick smile and then head behind the bar. Eyes on the ground I walk up to Ian.
"Hey boss, where do you need me tonight?"
"Tracey's out so you can take the kitchen," he says. I can't bring myself to look at him but his voice sounds gravely, a bit hoarser than normal.
"Right," I say and quickly turn and enter the kitchen, breathing a sigh of relief. I put my stuff away and get to work.
It's a relatively slow night and by 10pm there are no orders for stew. I'm out making a sweep of the tables, which are all cleared, when Ian calls me over.
"It's dead, why don't you head home. Hal can walk you."
"Sounds good," I say, going into the kitchen. Unfortunately, Ian follows.
As soon as we are alone in the kitchen he asks, "Are you ever going to look at me?" His voice is thick with emotion.
Still looking at the floor, I say, "I assume I will at some point, but I wasn't planning to today."
"Kelli," he grabs me as I move to leave the kitchen.
I snap. "What the fuck, Ian?" I yell at him, finally looking him in the eye. He looks like shit, but I don't have a lot of sympathy. "What do you want? Tell me!"
"I want you to look at me. I want you to talk to me!" he says, his voice rising in anger.
"Oh really?" I say, even louder than him. "You want me to talk to you? Is that why you bolted - from your own fucking house - the minute we finished making love? Oh wait, am I not supposed to call it that? Am I just supposed to say fucking? Because you aren't capable of love, so how could you possibly make love to me?"
I pause for a breath, fully intent on continuing my tirade. It feels good and I want to scream at him until I'm blue in the face. A movement catches our attention and we both turn to look to see Hal frozen in the doorway, his mouth open, as if about to say something.
"Not a good time, Hal," Ian barks. Hal, nodding his agreement, backs out the door. The minute it swings shut behind him, Ian starts to lay into me.
"I have never pretended we were more than we are, Kelli. You knew that last night was a one-time thing and that it wasn't going to happen again," Ian says, glaring at me.
"I never accused you otherwise," I yell at him. "But did that mean you had to race out the door the second you had come? Really, that's pretty low, even for you."
"Oh, even for me? What the fuck does that mean?"
"Never mind, Ian, just never mind," I say. I'm quickly losing my fight.
"Why were you crying?" he asks quietly. "When we finished, why were you crying?"
I force myself to finally look into his eyes. They are sad, and hurt, and definitely confused.
"I was thinking about how you had just come inside me. I was thinking about how, if I didn't have an IUD, how perhaps we could have started a life. And I was thinking about how much I would love a child of yours. Of ours," I correct myself, tears threatening. I sniff, and blink until they've retreated.