Friday, August 1, 2014

A Many Splintered Thing / Day 22: "Time to get up."

Howdy, all. Happy Friday. Busy day today and it started rough so I'm posting this now while I have the chance. Enjoy :)


Her fingers were cool on his skin. Which was ironic considering how much heat he felt she’d been giving off just minutes before. She slipped her fingertips along the length of him, tracing the veins of his cock and smiling. He had to focus on his breathing because his eyes were locked on where she touched him—how she touched him—and if he didn’t get his head on right things were going to be over way before he wanted them to end.

She slid the condom onto the tip of his cock and then slowly pushed so it began to unroll. He tried to recall a time when a woman made sheathing up almost as erotic as the prelude and failed miserably. Couldn’t think of a single time.

When she reached the root of his cock she bent to kiss the inside of each thigh. A tremor rocked through him and he almost laughed. One would think he’d never done this before.

He held out his hand and she took it. Then she got up off her knees and stepped between his legs. Caleb tried to tug her down onto his lap but Dahlia shook her head. His heart fell. Had she changed her mind that fast? Were they destined to torture each other? Granted it had been a day but to him—specifically a certain part of him—it felt as if they’d been waiting years.

“What?” he asked, looking up at her.

Dahlia smoothed her hands down his cheeks and smiled when his stubble rasped. She stroked his chin and then slid her fingers down his forehead. Her fingers plunged into his hair and she pulled his face close and kissed him. “Are you trying to tell me this isn’t going to happen?” he asked.

She stood up a bit so that his face nestled between her breasts. He sighed. “In the nicest possible way, though?” he continued.

“Nope.” Serious blue eyes looked down at him. Too serious he felt. He held his breath and waited. “I was just thinking, you’re going to want me to be on top so I feel in control. I’m going to want you to be on top because…” She paused and smiled at him. He watched, enraptured, as a shivers shook her body. “Because I like that. It gets me off,” she whispered. “With the right guy, mind you. But my point is…” Another pause, a deep kiss that made him see white light behind his closed eyes. “It’s going to be a whole thing”

Caleb wrapped his arms around her and quickly stood. He hiked her up and she gave a startled sound that made him chuckle. Not letting go of her he walked her to the large dresser. He sat her ass on the top—marble no less—and said, “How about no one’s on top?”

“So you think outside the box,” she said, but she slid her hips toward him along the slippery stone tabletop.

He put his hands on her thighs and spread them. She was wet and pink and absolutely perfect. He felt his heart do a trembling skip in his chest and he parted her nether lips with his fingers. He slid a single finger over her clit and then inside her. Her humid softness overwhelmed him. Part of his mind—the rational part—shut down and all that was left was the part of him that needed to be inside her.

“When life gives you lemons make lemonade,” he muttered like a madman. “Or when you’re not sure who should be on top make sure no one is…” He glanced at her and found her watching him. Her eyes taking everything in, her full pink lips twisted in an amused smile. “Or something like that.”

She took his cock in her hands. She stroked him slowly, never breaking eye contact. She was something untamed and staggering. Something like he’d never experienced. Dahlia was a whole new creature to Caleb and he was so glad he’d been stupid enough to drive three thousand miles for Jasmine to blow him off.

Maybe there was something to this whole the Universe knows the way ideology Bob’s wife Belinda had been into. Maybe the Universe sent his cross, useless, sad-sack self here for this reason.

“Hey, Caleb?”


“Can you stop navel gazing and fuck me now?” She squeezed him and it went right to his gut before shooting straight to his heart. I was like being struck by a shooting star.

“I think I can do that,”’ he said. But she didn’t get off the hook without just one more kiss. He could kiss her until the sun fell from the sky, he was fairly certain. “I’m thinking decidedly unmanly things about you,” he confessed. “All poetic and shit…”

She laughed. But only for a second. Because he’d taken his cock in hand and ran it along her wetness. Teasing her, pushing just hard enough to enter her a bit before pulling back to slide his cockhead along her slit again. Over and over again so that he had to bite his bottom lip to keep his mind alert.

“Caleb—“she hissed. Her voice was a soft, dark thing that spoke of need and insistence.

He shook his head but she grabbed his hip and tugged. He caved, sliding into her on one slow, hard thrust. They froze that way. Joined fully. Pressed together. She put her hand behind his neck and held him there to kiss him. Her tongue was soft and sweet against his, her body seemed to hum with electricity that danced just beneath her skin.

The poetic thoughts fled and he gripped her hips in his hands, squeezing her skin, holding her steady as he began to move. Every thrust made him question his sanity and his self-control. The feel of her gripping him, tight and slick, made him want to surrender to his never endings but the sane part of him simply wanted to ride this to the end. To take her everywhere she needed to go so that in the end he knew it had been everything it could have been.

And more.

He angled her hips a little more, thrusting hard but controlled. He bent so he could reach her nipple and found the tip with his teeth. He tugged her nipple until her breath came in soft, fast pants. He grinned and broke that contact to kiss and nip at her neck.

Remembering the night before, he released his right hand from her hip and put it across her throat. Just enough pressure for him to feel the flutter-bang of her pulse beneath his fingertips.
She groaned and suddenly she was a body in motion. Her hips slamming up, her fingers clutching his shoulder, biting into the meat of his muscle.

He felt her tremble and then still before she cried out, her pussy gripping around him even tighter than before. He kept his focus, kept his head about him, because he didn’t want to come just yet. Caleb hiked her leg up high so that her knee rode right below his armpit. He didn’t move the hand on her throat. If anything, he tightened his grip just a hair. Breath rushed in and out of her and when he kissed her he stopped it for a second. Her body grew lax all over but for inside. Inside she grew tighter.

He broke the kiss and gave into his needs. Every motion brought him closer, ever breath she took pushed him toward the end. He wanted to come but Christ—he didn’t want it to stop.

“Please,” she said. And then she pushed up to meet him. Her body slim and strong. She arched up once more and he kissed her to cut off her breath. She came, her tongue twitching against his lower lip, her mouth desperately meeting his.

Caleb dropped his hand and gripped her ass to keep her from sliding. He pushed into her over and over, harder and harder, until she said, “Caleb—“

This time when she tipped over he came with her. It was a gorgeous fall. A plummet from god to human and then back again just from a few nerve endings firing off with pleasure. He rode the light and warmth until it ended.

On the nightstand his alarm clock went off.

“Time to get up,” she said, her head nestled on his shoulder, her breath warm across his back.

Caleb could only laugh.

photo credit: Sommer Marsden 2014 "Caleb's Lemons"

Thursday, July 31, 2014

A Many Splintered Thing / Day 21: He didn’t even have enough breath in his lungs to groan with pleasure.

I have a feeling you're going to hate me today. But maybe not. We'll see ;)

Two things, constant readers: 

1. I'd love it if you would spread the word of AMST if you're enjoying the ride. Part of my goal in writing it, along with saving my sanity as we traverse the man's illness, and giving a new novel to my faithful readers, is to connect with new readers. So if you could whisper in some ears on my behalf I'd appreciate it. Truly :)

2. I'd also love to see who you see in your mind's eye when you picture Caleb and Dahlia and yes, Jasmine and Harrison, too. So if you have a specific person in mind and would like to share, feel free to post in comments or send them to me and I'll post them in future segments.

Much love,
p.s. If you are new and found me because of AMST please say hi. We don't bite. I promise. Well, not unless you ask. Nicely. 

He held her there, as tight as he could and kissed her. At first she grew still. Caleb worried that kissing her after that confession had been the stupidest fucking thing he could have done. He nearly pulled back but then she responded. At first with an intensity that met his and then she blew right past him in the intensity department. She scooted forward on the bed so they were closer. Some dim but aware part of his mind noted the heat radiating off her. She was like a tiny oven in his bed.

He pulled back, looking her in the eye. “Drop that towel again, will you?”

“I didn’t tell you that for your…” She was about to use the word pity. He could feel it. Sense it the way you know what someone you’ve been around a very long time is about to say. Only they hadn’t been around one another a very long time—not even a day—but hell, it sure felt like it. “Sympathy.” She finally finished strong.

Again he found himself oddly proud of her. She was fierce, this woman. Life had kicked her—hard—and instead of rolling over, she kicked back.

He knew a thing or two about that.

Caleb hooked his finger into the top of the towel where the tail end was tucked in to secure it. He tugged gently, teasing her just a little. Trying to shift the mood. She trusted him, he realized that now. And it made him feel lighter inside. They were practically strangers. She had no real reason to trust him beyond last night. But she seemed to follow her instincts just as he did.

Again, the reflection of himself in her felt slightly intoxicating. Shouldn’t that mean they’d be explosive? A massive fail? The worst idea ever?

On that thought, he pulled that little swatch of cotton and the towel fell open and down. Now when he saw her, he didn’t just see a body that made him want to do really bad things below a face he was pretty sure could make angels weep…he saw a warrior. And that was the biggest turn-on about Dahlia. There was something to be said for a woman who made you wonder if she could kick your ass. It was beyond arousing.

“You do have my sympathy,” he said, running a finger down her collar bone to her cleavage. “But that’s not what this is about. I’m simply doing what I really wanted to do last night.”

His finger was nestled half way down the tight valley between her breasts and he thought his dick might snap off it was so hard. That made him laugh because if it snapped off, well, they’d both be screwed. Or technically, neither of them would be.

“And that’s funny because?”

She had steel in her voice but beneath his seeking fingertip he felt the echoing pound of her heart. It was beating nearly as hard as his. “It’s not, I was thinking about my dick.”

His hand slid lower, he felt ribs beneath the taut skin and the firm muscles of her belly. She definitely worked hard, it showed in her body. Not a gym body, a body in motion body. Caleb liked that better.

“Is your dick funny?” Dahlia asked, but her voice had warmed to a slight purr. She liked him touching her and that made him smile all over again. “Is there something I should know?”

“Nope. It’s a long story about my cock being so very hard I fear it might shatter, because of you.” He kissed her again.

She tried not to respond, he felt her try, but she caved again and that thing in his chest that had lightened now leapt for joy. Inside himself he felt giddy and wild. It was an unexpected sensation that almost startled him into stillness.


He cupped her breast, pinching her nipple until he heard and felt a hitch in her breathing as they kissed. Then he soothed the skin he’d just pinched with small, soft circular swirls of his fingertips. She exhaled softly.

Caleb buried his hand in her still-damp hair and kissed her again. He thought if he kissed her long enough—just kissed her—he could come from that alone.

He kissed her neck and when she crawled onto his lap, straddled him while facing him, he kissed lower on her neck to lick and bite her clavicle. Then he slid his tongue along the scars she’d just explained to him. They were a part of her, as gorgeous and intense as her eyes, the flare of her hips, those long fucking legs.

She whispered something but he didn’t hear. She was grinding herself against him and he wished that his boxers would simply disintegrate. No such luck there. They stayed solid and in the way as she tugged his hair and bit his shoulder.

She whispered again and he had to reel himself up from the depths of his arousal. He had to push aside the scent and feel and movement of her to listen to her words.

“What?” he said, stupidly. “What?”

He felt slow and dull in the brain department. Electric and alive when it came to his physical being. All he could think about was being inside her—the warmth, the grip, the wetness.


It flashed through his mind as he watched her lips to comprehend her words. He’d never considered sex that way and it quickened his pulse.

“I said there’s a condom in the nightstand.” He grunted and she laughed, saying, “You animal.”

He nodded. “Damn right.” He didn’t let go of her, just angled his body to reach the drawer. Not just one condom. A box. He cocked an eyebrow.

She shrugged. “Don’t look at me. I don’t outfit the guest house. Well, actually, I do, I’m the maid. But I mean, I was told to put them there. Everything is thought of around here. From cold medicine to rubbers.”

She winked and he laughed. “So, you’re telling me this condom we’re about to use is courtesy of Jasmine.”

Her eyes went a bit wide and then she bit her lip trying to stifle her own laugh. “Um…yeah. I think that would be safe to say.”

“God, I love this place,” he said and tore open the foil packet.

She surprised him by taking the disc of latex from his fingers “Let me.”

And then in the soft morning light, she slipped from his lap and dropped to her knees at between his thighs. She hooked her thin fingers into the waistband of his boxers and said, “Lift.”

He didn’t question or argue. With another woman he might have. But the sight of her there—like that—and her soft voice shut down any argument he might have. He angled his hips to allow her to slip the navy blue shorts off and then she touched him.

Caleb had forgotten what it felt like to be a teenager with a hair trigger. He’d blocked most teenage memories for many reasons. But the pleasure and runaway-train feeling of being touched for the first time by someone he wanted so badly he could taste it flooded back to him in an instant.

He didn’t even have enough breath in his lungs to groan with pleasure.

photo credit: Pensiero via photopin cc

Wednesday, July 30, 2014

A Many Splintered Thing / Day 20: Then she opened the towel and dropped it so it puddled around her waist.

Posting this on the fly before taking girl child and her friends to her uncle's pool for a little belated birthday swim today. Boy child is manning the fort for me. Right now I'm trying desperately to get ready. If you see any issues, shout 'em out in the comments. I won't be gone longish.



She moved to sit up and Caleb wrapped his arm around her tighter. He pressed his mouth to her ear and said simply, “Stay.”

She would or she wouldn’t. He forced his body to go lax. Made sure she felt his arm around her welcoming but not forceful. He inhaled and exhaled three times, waiting, as Zen as he could managed to pull off when all he really wanted to do was roll on top of her and plunge inside her.

She relaxed and he felt his own body relax fully. He kissed the side of her head. Her hair was soft and it smelled like fruit. What kind of fruit he had no earthly clue, but he liked it.

“Why?” she asked.

He could feel the hurt coming off her in waves. It was like putting your hand near a fire pit that had extinguished but remained hot enough to burn you.

“Long story. And zero to do with you. I just wanted…” He shrugged and then pulled her so that she molded herself against him. She felt nice. Long and lean and warm in his arms. “I just wanted to do that. Just that for tonight. Is that…” He chuckled. “Is that a punishable sin?”

She didn’t answer for a moment and when he said, “Well?”

She said, “I’m thinking.”

He grinned. “What time is wakeup call around this joint? I forgot to ask.”

“We start shift at eight. I get up at seven.”

He rolled away for a moment, feeling the absence of her pressed against him, and set the alarm clock on the beside. “I’m getting up at six forty-five because I’m an over achiever.”

She snorted and he rolled to his side and then positioned her so that she was lying with her back against his chest. He brushed her hair back and kissed the side of her neck. “Don’t read too much into this, Dahlia,” he said.

“I thought you wanted me,” she said. He had to give her credit, a lot of the women he’d known would have pouted. That statement would have been tainted with tears or an attempt to make him feel guilt. This wasn’t. This was a short, strong statement without the bullshit.

That made his desire to turn her over and enter her as strong as ever. Stronger, possibly. He took another deep breath and second guessed himself. What the hell was he doing? He had her—this long legged, smart-mouthed, whiskey drinking creature—in his bed and he was going to lie here and go to sleep?

Yep, you are. So she can trust you and you can trust her.

If she force the issue, manipulated, threw a fit—if she did any combination of those things—he’d know what he was dealing with. Because lying here in a strange house in a strange town with a strange but tempting woman he realized that the last thing he wanted was another Jasmine.

“I did. I do. I just…I’d like it to be this way for tonight. Can we leave it at that?”

Another long pause in the dark and then she pushed her legs back against his and her ass against his cock and her back further against his chest. She was nestling herself against him and he waited, wanting to know, would she try to force the issue? Try to get a rise of out him—so to speak—by rubbing herself against him.

Instead, she took his arm, draped it over her waist and said quietly. “Of course we can. Yes.”

He wasn’t sure how to react. So he smiled and squeezed her and within moments she was breathing deeply, her body soft and still against him.

Caleb found himself falling down the rabbit hole of sleep not long after.


When he opened his eyes she was already sitting there looking at him. She wore nothing but a blue towel wound around her body and her hair was wet.

He smiled at her and touched the dripping end of her hair. “I thought you said you got up at seven.”
“I woke up and couldn’t go back to sleep. So I took Alice out to pee, got the paper, took a shower.”

“Painted the house, fed the hogs, and plowed the land…” he teased.

She smiled. Then she opened the towel and dropped it so it puddled around her waist.

So she waited for morning to force the issue. Not sure if she gets points for this or not.

She took his hand and his dick got hard. Well, harder, thanks to morning it was hard to begin with. She moved his hand and he expected a large handful of breast and instead she placed his palm on the scars.

His heart quickened, a tempo he doubted he’d have experienced if she’d done anything else. He felt that freefall sensation that came with intense emotional response. His heart broke a little as she began to speak.

“My father started coming in my room when I was twelve.”

“Oh, Jesus. Dahlia—“

“Hush up, Caleb,” she said.

He shut his mouth so hard his teeth clacked.

“He made a habit of visiting me at least once a month. Sometimes, more.” She swallowed hard. “I don’t know if my mother knew then. I really don’t.”

Then. But he kept his mouth shut and let her talk. The scars seemed to burn beneath his palm.

“By the time I was fifteen there had been a pregnancy scare. I had tried everything to talk him out of it. To turn him off. To deflect him. But I had a little sister and I…well, it became more important to me once I hit that age to keep his attention off her even if it meant it was on me.”

“When I was sixteen, I finally went to my mother. Desperate, I guess. I was still terrified of him, but more at that point, terrified for Delilah. My mother called me a liar.” She shook her head, pulled his palm away from her chest and kissed it. Then she replaced it on that pink puckered skin and his heart broke even more. He wanted to wrap her in his arms and keep her close. For a minute, for an hour, for the day…

“She either knew what he was doing and didn’t want to admit it—because that meant it was real—or she didn’t know and I had brought it to light. But I’d opened my mouth and it became reality. So…one night when I was about to turn seventeen, my dad was gone on business. I remember being so relieved and excited that he was out of that damn house. It meant I had some peace. I could go to sleep and not worry. I came home to find her waiting in my room. My sister wasn’t home. It was just us. And she was waiting…”

He could feel her heart banging under his hand. It felt like something small trapped in there trying to get out. Caleb tried to pull her in so he could at least hold her but she stiff armed him and shook her head.

“She said I was a whore.” She laughed. It was an ugly sound. “That I had seduced my father. That I’d tried to steal him from her.” Another laugh and he wanted to put his fist through something. Preferably her mother. “She was right up in my face. Screaming. And I was shocked…I was motionless. Then she proceeded to pull out a straight razor that my father prided himself on shaving with—it had been my grandfather’s—and…” She coughed. “Well, as you can see, she got in three good swipes at me before I kicked her feet out from under her and ran.”

He pressed his lips together so he wouldn’t rant. Or possibly scream.

“This one,” she said, tracing his finger up the center scar, the longest one. “This one is the one the attending ER doc told me another inch or so and she could have nicked my jugular.” She smiled.
There was no humor in that smile. Just sadness and pain.

She dropped his hand and pulled the towel around her. “Long story short,” she said, briskly. “It all came out in the wash, as they say, and I was emancipated not long after. I had a job after school already. A boss who testified on my responsibility and work ethic. I would be finishing high school and luckily had teachers willing to speak on my behalf as well. I was adamant and I got a decent judge who saw that I meant what I said. Delilah went to live with my mother’s sister. A nice woman who gave her a good life.”

“Your parents?”

“Jail and jail. One for attempted murder, my father for obvious reasons. I lucked out. I hear horror stories of monsters like them getting off or getting short sentences. I had scars, physical, emotional, mental, but I got some justice and my sister was safe. And that’s saying something.”

He sat up and took her face in her hands. “You tell me that story, woman, and then tell me how lucky you are?”

“In that respect.”

“I’m going to warn you because I have morning breath,” Caleb said, feeling his heart pick up once again but for an entirely different reason. “But I’m going to kiss you now.”

photo credit: Sommer Marsden Double Rock Park 2013