Calendar Girl: November(7)

By: Audrey Carlan

My body tightened at the same time that Wes’s thrusts became more insistent. His teeth were clenched, and his eyes were closed tight. There was no way I was letting him fall into the abyss without me right there with him.

“Wes…” I said, a warning in my tone.

He pounded relentlessly into me, striving for the edge. Every neuron and nerve inside me came alive, sparked, and was ready to light on fire, but I needed him there with me. Always with me.

“Wes, baby.” My voice was weak, lost in the haze of extreme desire. I was riding that wave of a pleasure so huge it would swallow me whole, but I wanted him there, too.

“Wes.” I choked back a sob as the splintering feeling of riding his cock and how it was about to take me beyond the ability to hold out.

Finally, finally he opened his eyes. Blazing green orbs of lust stared back at me, and he growled a single word. "Come."

For the first time ever, that one word did it. I shot off like a rocket into orbit, locking down my body around his while he thrust a few more times and together we found nirvana.

His cries mingled with mine, and I knew we’d be okay. As long as we could bring one another back from hell, we’d always have this.

* * *

Once we’d cleaned up, I tumbled back into bed, tired out of my mind and wanting to know what happened. The therapist said Wes needed to work through these issues or they’d fester and the dreams could get worse.

Sprawling my body over his, I centered my chin over my hands, which were over his heart. “So…what happened in the dream?”

He sighed and pushed a hand through his unruly dirty-blond layers. The bedhead look was working for him in a big way. If he hadn’t just broken the rollercoaster ride that was my vagina from too many goes, I’d be ready to scream my way through the hills and valleys with him again. Alas, the sore, achy feeling between my legs confirmed that my pleasure center needed a comp day for sure.

“You really don’t want that shit in your head, Mia. Hell, I don’t want that shit in my head, let alone have you worrying about it.”

“Was it a flashback?” I knew he had those pretty regularly.

He shook his head, paused, and bit his lip thoughtfully. “Kind of, I guess. I was back there, in the hut. Things were different. At first, they had grabbed Gina like they did.”

I shivered, knowing exactly what those extremists had done to his ex. Repeatedly raping someone didn’t hurt only her. Wes had been forced to watch it happen day in and day out. “And what changed?” I asked softly, not wanting to spook him for sharing.

He inhaled, blinked a few times, and brought his hand to the layers of hair that had fallen in front of my face. For a few seconds, he rubbed at the strands between his fingers.

“She turned into you,” he eventually said.

“How so?”

His eyebrows furrowed, but he continued to play with my hair. His gaze was concentrated on my face as if cataloguing every feature with an intensity that he hadn't shown before.

“The hair was different at first. It was Gina’s dark hair only not black and silky like yours.” He frowned. “Then it was the lips.” With one finger he traced my pout. I responded by kissing his fingertip. “The nose lengthened in front of my eyes.” He ran that same finger down from my brow to the tip. “Still I didn’t believe…” His voice got gravelly, as if he’d gargled with a box of jagged rocks.

“You didn’t believe what?”

“I could believe it was her until her blue eyes turned a pale, pale green. Eyes I’ve only ever seen on one person…you.”

“Oh, Wes, God…” I swallowed the emotion that was clogging my throat. “It wasn’t me.”

He closed his eyes and pointed to his heart. “I know that here, but here”—he pointed to his temple—“the details get mixed up sometimes. And tonight was the worst. One minute it was playing out like one of the nights they’d taken Gina, but then she turned into you. And Mia…I wouldn’t have survived seeing that happen to you. I can barely handle it now, having seen it happen to someone I care for, but you? Jesus…the thought alone is killing me.”

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