Authors: Sawyer Belle
Chapter 18
The solitary window of the apartment faced east and with the
early morning sun blasting through the sheer curtains, the room was as bright
as midday. Mackenna was used to the conditions and slept soundly, but Brent
always rose with the dawn.
As his eyes opened, he found Mackenna on her side facing
him, her breath washing over his neck. Her hands were folded, one on top of the
other, and rested beneath her chin. Wavy blonde hairs had escaped their
confines and fell over her face. She was completely at ease, breathing softly
with her mouth slightly parted. Brent’s arm was looped around her and one of
his legs was thrown over one of hers.
How they had gotten so entangled, he did not remember, but
he was glad that they did. She was a heartwarming sight to wake up to and if he
could have stopped time, he would have done so right then. If he had a choice,
he would wake up to this every day for the rest of his life. The thought sank
into his soul and filled him with unblemished joy.
He moved his hand to cup her face, smoothing away the soft
wisps of her hair as he did so. He ran his thumb lightly over her lower lip and
watched as her eyelids fluttered open in response. Her eyes gleamed like
Montana sapphires as all traces of sleepiness vanished in the wake of desire.
Her breaths moved quicker and shallower over his thumb until he finally gave in
and kissed her.
Her lips were warm and soft, molding perfectly to his. He
pressed them together gently, hesitantly waiting for her response. Her arm
moved to wrap around his back and he took that for the sign that she wanted
what he wanted. He deepened the kiss, sucking on her bottom lip until her mouth
opened completely to him and they tasted each other.
His tongue was hot and bold and moved with teasing slowness,
stroking her untutored one with unhurried skill. As their mouths stayed locked
together, he pressed his bare chest closer to hers, bringing the whole of her
body up against him. His hand left her face to move up into her hair, gently
removing the tie she’d used to bind it. Once the strands were loose he buried
his fingers in their silkiness.
Slowly, he eased her onto her back and leaned his torso over
hers, cradling her head in his hands as he filled his mouth with the taste of
her. Her mounting passion matched his and she ran her palms over the sculpted
muscles of his back as she had always longed to. Up and down his spine, she
stroked until she finally brought her hands up into his blonde mane.
He wanted to explore the rest of her body and so finally
broke the kiss long enough to reach down and grab the ends of her shirt and
pull it up over her head. If Mackenna had any shyness about her body, it had
disappeared against the heat and desire swelling inside of her. Whenever she
had imagined them together like this, she felt sheepish and insecure, knowing
that her body was not as beautiful as others, but in this moment all she wanted
was Brent’s hands and eyes and mouth on her, and wherever he wanted them.
He stopped for a moment to stare down at her in appreciation.
Her eyes were glazed with desire, her hair fanning out in disheveled beauty.
Her skin was pale and soft, stretching over her collar bones before filling out
into two perfectly round and full breasts, their centers dark and peaked for
his attention. He could feel his erection straining against his pants in
response.
He leaned down and took a nipple into his mouth, groaning
with the realization of how much he had wanted to see and taste this part of
her. He filled his palm with her other breast, teasing the nipple between his
thumb and forefinger. He swirled his tongue around slowly and attentively, as
if committing it to memory. Finally, he tickled the bud with the tip of his
tongue and felt Mackenna shiver beneath him.
Her body was on fire with a sinful pleasure. He controlled
the very flow of her blood with the tiniest flick of his tongue. She felt her
mind losing command of her body. Even her lungs seemed to forget how to fill
with air as every breath stopped short of her throat. She found herself arching
her back to lift her breasts closer to him. Her hands played in his hair as
pure ecstasy spiraled from the tips of her breasts down to her toes.
Finally, his tongue left her breast and traced a line up
over her collar bone to her neck. He tugged lightly at the flesh with his lips
as he slowly eased himself fully atop her. She could feel his shaft prodding at
the lower reaches of her belly and a deep pulsing began even lower inside of
her. When he took her mouth again, his hand reached down and settled in between
her legs.
He rubbed the area slowly, awakening her most sensitive spot
for the first time and she shuddered from the pleasure that rippled through
her. She had no idea it was possible to feel like this. Her entire being was
melting around his hand. She felt her legs part wider, unable to stop them even
if she had wanted to.
Brent reached up and took her wrist in his hand, bringing
her palm down to cover his throbbing arousal, encouraging her to touch him the
same way. Mackenna panicked and went still, cursing her inexperience. She was
terrified to displease him or do something wrong.
“Brent,” she breathed.
“Yes,” he answered breathlessly, lost in the pleasure she
was giving him, in the pleasure he knew he was giving her. His body felt on the
verge of exploding as he continued to nuzzle her neck and stroke her aching
womanhood. She was beautiful. She was perfect. Their joining was so passionate,
so fiery, so…
“I don’t know what to do,” Mackenna said as she still cupped
his shaft. “I’ve never done this before.”
So wrong
! Everything
shattered in that moment for him. He stopped immediately and raised himself up.
Of course she didn’t know what to do. She was a trusting virgin.
A teenaged virgin.
And he had just taken advantage of her.
“Jesus!” he breathed heavily. “What the hell am I doing?” He
clambered off the bed, nearly tripping in the process, and backed away from her
guiltily.
“Oh my God.
Mackenna, I am so sorry.”
Confused, she sat up in the bed, her breasts looking even
larger as they fell forward and Brent spun around and put his back to her.
“Put your shirt on!” he ordered abruptly.
Wounded, Mackenna grabbed her shirt and raced past him into
the bathroom, slamming the door and locking it. She collapsed onto the toilet
and buried her face in her hands. Tears poured into her palms. She was
humiliated.
Absolutely, utterly humiliated.
Brent
didn’t want some naïve virgin. He wanted someone who knew what she was doing in
bed.
Someone like Kelly.
Her shoulders shook and she almost had to bite down on her
fingers to keep from crying out loud. Brent was still on the other side of the
door and she did not want him to know that she was sobbing. Within seconds she
heard her apartment door slam shut and knew that he had gone. She released her
voice and moaned pitifully into her hands.
How could she have been so stupid? How could she believe
that Brent had feelings for her? He did nothing more than act like a man who
was in bed with a woman. She knew he had been attracted to her both last night
and this morning, but she saw it leave his eyes the second she revealed her
ignorance. How would she ever face him again? She could never look at him
without reliving that moment of rejection.
After what seemed like an hour of crying Mackenna finally
settled her emotions long enough to wash her face. It did not help. Her eyes
were red and puffy. She opened the bathroom door and peeked out, but she knew
that he had not returned. She did not know whether to be relieved or
heartbroken about that. When she looked to the spot on the floor where his
duffel bag had been and saw that it was gone, too, heartbreak won. He had left
her for good.
Brent stomped through the fast-melting snow, cursing himself
both silently and aloud as he went. He carried his bag with him in the
direction of the airport, not knowing exactly how to get there. Anger and
self-disgust filled every ounce of his being. If it were at all possible, he
would have beaten the living crap out of himself. That is surely what he would
have done had some guy his age done the same thing to his kid-sister.
How could he have let himself get carried away like that?
True, he was a hot-blooded man in the presence of a beautiful woman. True, he
hadn’t had sex in more than a year. But Mackenna was not just some momentary
fling to quench his dry spell. She was his best friend, and she was pure and
innocent. She deserved better than him for her first time. She deserved someone
that she loved, who loved her enough to commit to her.
Brent had been struck by how deeply he had felt for her, but
in no way had it ever occurred to him that a relationship was possible. There
was no point in even pondering the logistics of it. It simply wouldn’t work. He
should have held onto that thought in the early morning hours, and not let his
shaft do his thinking.
He was some friend. His whole motive had been to make her
happy, to make her forget her troubles for the weekend, not add to them. Now,
not only had he breached the very strict boundaries of friendships with members
of the opposite sex, but he had walked out on her without a word. He stopped
walking and cursed himself again. He had no idea what he would say to her, but
she deserved some kind of explanation. He turned around and headed back toward
her apartment.
Chapter 19
Mackenna had dressed in jeans and an oversized hoodie,
throwing her hair back into a ponytail. She was standing in front of the
bathroom mirror, studying the puffiness beneath her eyes when she heard the
knock at the door. Her heart pounded against her chest and her eyes threatened
to fill again. She knew it was him, but she didn’t want to answer.
When he continued to knock, guilt ate away at her
conscience. He had no transportation. His flight didn’t leave until the next
day. She would not make him find a place to stay. Regardless of her own
embarrassment over the situation, she couldn’t turn him away. She searched
through her makeup bag for something to cover the evidence of her tears, but
she knew nothing could erase the obvious.
She went to the door and opened it, keeping her eyes on the
ground. She focused on his boots as they stepped past her and into the
apartment. He only walked a few steps before he dropped his bag and turned to
her. They were both silent for so long that she was beginning to wish she had
left him on the other side of the door.
“Mackenna,” he said but did not continue.
He waited for her to look up. When she did not, he repeated
her name. Slowly, her face lifted and she looked at him with bloodshot, swollen
eyes and splotchy cheeks and he hated himself even more.
“Ah, shit,” he said as his shoulders sagged and he rubbed
his forehead with the palm of his hand. He shook his head at himself and opened
his mouth to explain, but she cut him off with a raised palm.
“Stop,” she said. “I can’t bear to talk about it. If we’re
still friends, let’s just pretend it never happened, okay?”
“I think we need to talk about it,” he countered.
“I don’t want to talk about it!” she said forcefully. “You
said I could ask any one thing of you. Well, this is it.”
He stared silently at her for a long moment, knowing that
she was furious with him for taking advantage of her. If she was still willing
to be his friend, even after such a trespass, he would grant her wish. He
nodded in agreement.
“Good,” she said with relief. After an awkward pause, she
spoke again. “I’m assuming you haven’t changed your flight?”
“No, I haven’t.”
She nodded. “Then, I want to take you somewhere. Bring your
bag.”
She grabbed her truck keys and he picked up his duffel and
followed her out to her truck. He figured she was going to take him to a motel,
which would be very wise and
very
deserved, but she
took the first entrance onto the freeway instead. Maybe the airport, he
thought, but she sped passed it without even a glance. The drive was long and
awkwardly silent.
A half an hour later, she turned off of the highway down a
gravel road that was wet with yesterday’s slush. Ten minutes grated over it and
she made another turn down a long and tree-rimmed drive. He surveyed the area
as she came to a stop in front of a two-story house with white siding and dark
blue shutters. A porch wrapped-around as far as he could see, and rows of white
fences stretched away from it toward the shadows of the Sierras, corraling what
had to be three to four dozen horses. She killed the engine and peered up
through the windshield.
“Where are we?” he asked.
“This is home,” she answered and climbed out of the truck. “Grab
your bag,” she told him as she fumbled with the keys on her ring for the one to
the front door.
Once they were inside, the sound of erratic tapping clattered
over the wood flooring and soon a hairy golden retriever rounded the corner and
leapt excitedly toward them. Mackenna dropped to a knee and held her arms out
wide to receive him.
“Chance!” she cooed excitedly. “How’s my good boy?!”
The dog pawed her and sent his tongue lapping over her
throat and chin as she laughed and scratched him behind the ears and under his
chin. Once the greeting was over she led Brent upstairs, Chance right at her
side. She pointed out rooms and features, bits of furniture that were family
heirlooms and photographs of six generations of her mother's family who had
inherited this land from Mackenna's ancestors, Morgan and Lila Kelly. She ended
the tour when she came to the end of the hall. There were two bedrooms opposite
each other. She pointed to one door.
“This is my room.” She then went to the door opposite her
room and opened it. “This is where you’ll sleep tonight.”
He followed her into the guest room. It was spacious, cozy
and far finer than any room he’d ever owned. He set his bag on the end of the
bed and thanked her. She shrugged.
“The folks aren’t due back for a few days. Their home is far
more comfortable than my little studio. Plus, you can see where I grew up.”
And I’ll be safe in my
own bed away from you
, Brent thought to himself.
“Are you hungry?” she asked him. He shook his head.
“Why don’t you show me the rest of the place?”
She nodded and led them outside. The acreage rolling away
from the house was sectioned off into six large pastures, all adjoining. At the
far end of each pasture were large red barns housing stables that could be
entered from either inside the paddock or from the walkway on the other side.
There were ten stalls in each stable. Just beyond the last pasture fence was a
river meandering along the base of the mountain.
As Mackenna led them down the walkway Chance pranced happily
beside her, scurrying every now and then to bark at the horses, or a darting
critter. She took Brent into each barn, introducing him to her mother’s overseer,
employees, and of course the animals within. Each horse had a history and
Mackenna knew every one of them. With each new introduction, the emotional
morning was ebbing from her features, replaced with the concern and affection
she felt for the animals.
He understood why she had brought him here. This was a
healing place for more than just four-legged creatures and he saw the effects
of it in her already. The animals, too, perked up in her presence, neighing and
nuzzling affectionately. He knew she would make a great vet one day.
She picked up a bucket of oats as she led him into the last
barn. The chestnut mare was already hanging her head over the wooden door to
her stall. Chocolate-colored mane hung loosely over her eyes while the rest
tumbled over her thick furry neck. She whinnied and waved her head in a
succession of brisk nods. Mackenna laughed and pet her favorite.
“This,” she told Brent, her voice full of love, “is my
little darlin’ Tip.” She tickled the only white spot on the tip of the horse’s
snout to show how she earned her name.
Brent reached out and petted the horse as she chomped
through the bucket Mackenna held out for her. She was a beautiful animal with
thick and muscular legs.
“Does she belong to you or is she someone that your mother is
rehabilitating?” he asked.
“She’s mine,” Mackenna answered. “She was sort of left on
our doorstep.”
He made a face that showed he didn’t believe her.
“It’s true,” she said. “About five years ago, I was going
out to do my chores and I saw her tied to one of the trees on the drive. No
note or anything. At first, it didn’t seem like there was anything wrong with
her. Her temperament was calm and cooperative. She had no obvious injuries. We
decided to saddle her up and see how she rode. I had her lead rope tied to a
rail tie. I put the blanket on her and the saddle without any problem. As soon
as the cinch touched her belly through, she went crazy.
“She yanked back so violently that I almost got trampled.
She reared and tried to pull away from the rail tie, but all of her jerking
only tightened the knot that I had used. She ended up getting herself so
twisted up that she fell onto her back with her neck turned almost completely
around. I was afraid that her neck would snap as tight as it was tied to the
rail. I tried to pull the knot free with my hands while she winced and whined,
but I couldn’t get it out.
“I ended up running for a curry brush and basically sawed
through the rope. Once her neck was free she was back on her feet, bucking and
rearing until the saddle finally fell off. As soon as it was off, she was fine
as can be, perfectly placid. We worked with her, mostly me, for almost a full
year to no avail. She would never allow a cinch to touch her belly. I didn’t
see any reason to try and force one on her. She’s obviously suffered some
trauma to the belly, probably some jerk tightening it so she couldn’t breathe
or something.”
“So, you’ve never ridden her?”
“Oh, I’ve ridden her, but just bareback, and just around
here. That’s plenty. She enjoys it. I enjoy it. There’s no need to add anything.
There’s no benefit to aggravating an old wound. Huh, Tip?” she asked the horse
as she scratched between her ears.
Brent agreed on more than one level. Some wounds never heal.
The more time he spent with Mackenna, the more he cared for her and the worse
he felt for what he’d almost done to her in the morning. She was goodness and
innocence and her genuine virtues made him feel even more sullied and flawed. This
was where she flourished. This was where she belonged. He belonged in Montana.
But he knew he could love her and so he had resolved to distance himself from
their friendship as soon as he returned home.
They spent the rest of the afternoon and evening cooking in
her parents’ home with Mackenna filling Brent’s ears with sweet childhood
memories. He recounted some of his fonder ones, always omitting his father’s
role in them. He spoke lovingly of his sister and mother. They joked and teased
each other like the days of old, each doing their best to ignore the undercurrent
of unresolved passion and apprehension as to where and how they would go on.
For Mackenna, the visit proved that her heart was well and
truly lost to him. Even with her embarrassing admission in the bedroom and his
hurtful reaction, she knew that she was still desperately in love with him.
Barring his rejection of her, the weekend had been perfect and life had never
felt as right as it had with him sharing it all with her, her bed, her parents’
house, her animals, her meals. She knew now that she was empty without him, and
if he had asked it of her, she would have returned with him. She would have
abandoned her degree, her plans,
her
dreams and followed
him wherever he went.
But he didn’t ask. He simply said good-bye.