Found (Captive Heart #2) (7 page)

S
he’s so drunk
I can smell the tequila on her tongue. I shouldn’t be letting Char do this, but God, it feels fucking good.

It’s been three years since someone besides my own right hand has touched my cock. I thought about this moment way too often when I was lying in my jail cell. The first time I would make love to Char after I got out.

I’ve been holding off for weeks, not sure why I can’t get close to her. And I knew she was frustrated. But not this frustrated.

I’ve never seen Char even remotely tipsy. The closest I ever saw her get was the night she sprained her ankle at Camp Marsh and I gave her the bottles of red wine. She’d admitted to me then that she’d never had more than a drink or two a semester in college. So I definitely don’t recognize this drunken version Char.

Or this minx version Char. The woman I left was shy and quiet in bed, I used to have to bribe her with orgasms to get her to talk during sex. She would have never initiated fully, and she never would have so brazenly taken off her own clothes and thrown herself at me.

I clearly have no idea who my wife is.

This is a bad idea. Such a bad idea. She’s drunk. We haven’t talked about a thing yet. We’re not even sleeping in the same bed.

But I’m so turned on for her right now. I forgot about those beautiful, petite curves. All of that whipped cream skin. The way her mocha eyes melt when she’s aroused.

Couple that with her hands now snaking down my sweatpants and touching my cock, my engorged flesh …

“Holy fuck. Fuck, Char, fuck …”

She’s gripping me roughly, stroking up and down my cock and flicking her thumb at the sensitive underside of my head each time she reaches the top. I’ve gone three years without her touch, and I’m not going to last if she keeps this up.

“Char, slow down, fuck …”

She keeps up her pace, pushing up on her toes to kiss my pecs, my neck, nibble on my jaw …

Something akin to an electric jolt zaps down my spine and rockets through my balls. And then I’m coming, a sticky, hot mess on her hand and in my sweatpants. I gasp for air, shooting my hand out and grabbing for the wall to keep myself upright. The sensations of my release are more than my sex-starved body can bear.

Char pulls her hand back clumsily, and I remember in the aftershocks of my climax that she’s wasted.

“Char …”

She’s not listening, but instead drops her unfastened bra and wiggles out of her underwear. I can’t breathe.

She’s so beautiful in the dark hallway.

“Make love to me.” She wraps her arms around my neck

“We shouldn’t do this.” I place my hands on her silky, toned hips to push her away.

“Make love to me.” Her eyes are so vulnerable.

“Charlotte, come on …” Despite my head, my heart and my body cant my hips forward, pushing into her softness.

“Make love to me.” She pushes up on her toes and I feel the words breathed against my lips.

Logic leaves me and I close the tiny gap she’s left between us, squeezing her tiny hips in my hands as I plunge my tongue into her mouth.

She smells so good, and tastes like tequila. I feel high, my hands trying to grab every smooth, toned body part as fast and as much as I possibly can. I turn us, our unit of togetherness, and slam her against the hallway wall. A picture rattles next to her head, crashing off its nail and to the floor. We never stop.

I’m breathing her and she’s devouring me. There are gasps and tears mixed into this kiss, and it feels like we’re moving heaven and earth. What started as horny, disjointed groping has turned into passion. We’re kissing each other as if our tongues might locate the other’s soul. She’s making my heart crack and ooze every feeling I’ve been holding in.

Before I know what’s happening, my pants are pooled by my ankles and we’re on the floor, Char straddling me.

“I love you. I love you. I love you.” She chants as she takes my come-covered, once-again stiff cock in her hands and positions me at her entrance.

When she slides onto me, sheathing my hardness in her tight warmness, we both lose our breath. I wrap one hand around the back of her neck, the other massages the skin at her hip. She presses her nose against mine, our eyes intensely searching each others.

And I remember now. I remember everything that we have. What it feels like to have Charlotte, why I knew she was my world all of those years ago. There are no words to describe the connection we have. Connection is too weak a word. This is other-worldly, what we have transcends galaxies and time.

Char starts to move and I groan into her mouth, fusing our lips together as she rides me slowly. With every pulse of her hips she gives a pained moan, like I’m killing and curing her.

“Tucker, Tucker …” She sobs my name as I feel her body tense and then shudder.

Her pussy grips me as she unravels on top of me. “Oh god, yesss …”

Char’s orgasm goes on and on, rocking both of us until with just a small thrust of my hips, I’m coming again. This release is more intense, gripping me by the balls and making my body lose control. I fall back onto the hardwood, the arms I was using to hold myself up collapsing and taking Char with me.

I can’t speak after the last quake leaves me. Our breathing has paired, each lungful of air in and out in sync. And Char’s tears, wetting the hair on my chest.

“I love you,” she whispers.

I search my heart for the words, and surprisingly, they come. “I love you, too.”

The wall I had carefully constructed to keep her out is crumbling. It feels better, to let her in.

But, it’s also scary as hell.

T
ucker slept
in my bed that night. The first night we’d been together since he came home. He slept in our bed.

He carried me up the stairs and pulled the sheets aside, and then held me like the world was ending. And the cracks in my heart began to fill, to fuse together with the love and happiness he was giving me.

The past two weeks haven’t been us back to normal. They’ve been better. Because we recognize each other’s flaws, we talk about them and our downfalls in counseling. I know when he needs to talk about something, and when he’d rather not discuss it. He tries to be more positive with me, but I also try to let him sit in his moods if he needs it. We are finally becoming partners, a real husband and wife who deal with things together.

He met Jackie finally, to her delight. She peppered him with so many questions about me as a child that it made him comfortable. I hadn’t seen him smile that much since he’d been home. And I thanked God for sending me a friend who was so amazing.

Our three year wedding anniversary rolled around, and Tucker brought home a cheesecake that he had actually gone to a local bakery himself and picked up. We ate our slices of Oreo goodness in our underwear, in bed, after a marathon of sex. We’d even broken out the new champagne glasses I’d bought, the bubbles for me and sparkling grape juice for him.

And one of the best, sexy parts of my husband being home? Sexy texting during work hours.

I smile at his message. He’s
really
gotten the hang of this whole sexting thing since we got him a cellphone again.

My phone pings with his response.

Oh God, he hit me with a wink face! I had to admit though, I missed our Camp Marsh days sometimes too. It was so much simpler then, as complicated as the situation was. We were alone. No pressure from society or jobs or people. We were free to love each other and do exactly what we wanted to.

I sneak to the bathroom down the hall and into a stall. I open my camera app and snap a quick picture as I lift up my blouse. He’s going to love the gray demi bra I have on today. Lace all the way through. You can make out my nipples in the picture.

I don’t even have to wait two seconds for his response.

Giggling, I type back. If anyone else is in this bathroom, they’re going to think I’m insane.

Tucker messages me back.

I hope I do.

* * *

F
our days
later and we’re sitting at the table, enjoying a Sunday morning breakfast of spinach omelets that I whipped up. I’m scrolling through my Facebook timeline and Tucker has the local paper’s sports section spread across the table.

We really
are
like a normal couple now. Ignoring each other even though we’re sharing a meal.

I look up to see Tucker staring at my wrist. The one with the tattoo of our baby’s birthday.

When he feels my gaze on his face, he looks up. “I want to take you somewhere today.”

I can’t hide my shock well. He’s barely wanted to leave the house despite the fact that we’re really good in our marriage right now. He only goes to work, counseling, and NA meetings. I’ve been wanting to go on a real live date so badly, but I didn’t want to push him.

“I would love to go anywhere with you. Plus, it’s a beautiful day.”

Early May in Lancaster is always gorgeous. The flowers are in bloom the sun is shining. I couldn’t think of a more perfect way to spend a Sunday than with my husband doing something he’s planned for me.

“Good. Go get ready. And put on some walking shoes, you’re going to need them.”

“
W
here are we going
?” Char laughs as she swings our arms, my hand holding hers.

It’s a beautiful spring day, warm enough that we don’t even need coats or sweaters. I steer us down the street away from our condo, and how amazing is it that I’m referring to it as the place
we
live now. Since the night I made love to Char on the hardwood, the iciness I’ve held onto since I’ve gotten home has started to melt.

Therapy has helped considerably, and given us an outlet to talk to each other correctly. And my sponsor, Jim, has been a big help.

But work is the real savior. I like construction, like completing something with my hands and seeing the joy it brings to the people living there or working there. I like it so much that Jane’s friend brought me onto his crew full time. That conversation had been fun.

Char had been thrilled when I came home and told her about it. So thrilled that I got a congratulatory blow job that almost gave me a heart attack.

I finally felt like I was finding my way back to a normal life. Adapting to the rush around me, fitting into society after putting my life on hold for three years.

And today was special. I don’t think Char realized what day it was, but I’d been watching the news the other day, and they’d done a highlight on it. I’d been difficult to put it mildly, and I wanted to do something special for my wife. For the woman who had stuck by me for all of these years.

“I’m not going to tell you yet!”

We wander into downtown Lancaster, and for a second I have to brace myself for the influx of people surrounding us. There is so much chatter and noise and colors here. It can be overwhelming at times.

“Oh my God, Tucker! I forgot about the Amish festival!”

Char squeals and gives me a side hug, marveling at all of the tents set up. They feature baked goods, arts, wooden rocking chairs. The famous sourdough pretzel factory has a tent, as well as some of the local restaurants. Kids are getting their faces painted, teenagers are flirting with each other by the sunglass booth.

“I thought it might be fun. And I remember you coming last year with Jackie.”

It was one of the only weekends she didn’t come visit me. But she’d been there the next week, regaling me with stories of the delicious Amish food she’d eaten.

“Oh yeah! We have to go get donuts. Right now!”

She pulls me through the crowd, her slim hand and arm like a leash that I will never let go of. I can’t help but tilt my head up and laugh at her enthusiasm.

Fifteen minutes later and we have our apple fritters in hand.

“You didn’t tell me how fucking good this was.” I lick my fingers as I get in line to order another.

“Yes I did! I talked about these for weeks, I swear!”

I lean down and lick a speck of sugar off her upper lip, and she wraps her hand around the back of my neck and pulls me in for more. Someone behind us has to clear their throat for us to break apart.

We just smile at each like idiots. And get more donuts.

I stop her at a stand on the outskirts of the festival. It’s overflowing with fresh-picked flowers, and I make Char wait outside while I disappear into the tent and grab the biggest bouquet of daisies I can find.

Her face lights up when she sees me, and she stands from the bench I made her wait on.

“Are those for me?!” Her joy is tangible.

“Maybe, but you’ll have to follow me to find out.” I reach my hand out for hers, which she takes, and I lead her out of the festival.

I walk us away from downtown and out where the houses become farther and farther apart. I hang a right, and soon we’re at the edge of Lancaster County Central Park.

“We’re going for a walk in the park?” She’s still guessing.

“You up for a little bit more of a walk?”

There is somewhere I want to take her. Char nods and we keep going, hand in hand, just admiring this beautiful day.

The park is alive with sounds and fragrances. I can’t imagine returning here with anyone but her.

Farther into the park, and I finally spot it.

“Oh, Tucker …” Char gasps quietly and I know I’ve done good.

We walk onto the worn wood planks of the Kurtz Mill Covered Bridge and I stop her once we’re just inside the opening.

“It looks just like the one in
Bridges of Madison County
.” Char marvels at the construction of the red covered bridge.

“I used to sleep in here sometimes.” I look at her, assessing her reaction.

“Back when you were using?”

“Yeah … it was one of the only free, covered places I could ever think of.”

I walk to her, pressing her against the wall of the bridge and bringing one hand up to her cheek. My other is still occupied with her daisies.

“I want to rewrite all of the bad memories with you. I want to take away all of the pain we’ve had. Not forget it, but replace them with happiness and new traditions. It’s why I wanted to bring you here. It’s why I got you these.”

I hold up the flowers to her. “Happy Mother’s Day, Char.”

Tears spring to the corners of her eyes. “I forgot … I didn’t realize today was …”

I sink down so that our eyes are on the same level. “I know how hard it must have been for you, with the miscarriage. I’m here now, and we can mourn him and remember him together. We can think of him, a perfect little boy, playing up in Heaven. And I want to mark this day every year. Remember him. And I also want to remind you that one day, you’re going to be an amazing mother to our children. You will. I love you, baby.”

She starts to weep and I hold her against my chest while she clutches her daisies and cries for the little boy we lost. I mean it, someday, she is going to be the most perfect mom.

“Thank you. Thank you, Tuck. It’s been so hard. For so long, I blamed myself. And I still do. But this … just, thank you.”

I lean down and plant a soft kiss on her lips.

“I also brought you out here because I thought maybe, you’d like to see what it’s like to get lucky in a covered bridge. What do you think?”

I smirk against her mouth and hope she takes the bait to break the emotional moment. I sense she needs me too.

Char doesn’t say anything. Just pulls my mouth to hers and deepens that soft kiss.