Authors: Charlotte Swanpol
Chapter 5
Fern’s pulse raced as she walked beside this tall, quiet stranger who, now, knew her most intimate moments. He put out an arm for her to hold as they walked out of the diner, together. He tried so hard to appear rough and unhinged, but she could tell there was more to him; a chivalry in him. She shook her head, grinning, as she reveled in her evening.
What would the girls say?
Arm in arm, they meandered down the street toward his motorcycle, she talking and he listening. He really didn’t seem to mind her nattering, at all. A block away from the bike, she got so carried away with a story, she didn’t see the pair of gentlemen exiting the restaurant to their left. On impact, she crumbled, still remarkably unstable on her heels.
“Oh, I’m so sorry!” she cried, embarrassed, as Rocky leant to help her up. When she peered up to drive her apology home, the man she bumped into turned, and her heart became stone, time freezing and melting all at once.
“Joel?” she breathed, dumbstruck.
“Fern?” came the pedantic reply. In a crisp, navy suit, he looked every bit as handsome as she remembered; the memory of their passion rushed back to nestle on her cheeks.
“Wait, Joel?” Rocky asked, steadying Fern upon her feet. “Your ex-fiancé, Joel?”
Rocky turned to look, the rage behind everything he had just learned about the man igniting a fire in his eyes. Before Fern could intercept, the punch connected, and Fern’s lovely, lying, lecherous ex-fiancé was splayed out on the ground, massaging his jaw.
Fern gasped, first at Joel, and then at Rocky, massaging his knuckles; they were bleeding, again.
“Robert?” boomed a deep voice. The man with Joel, middle-aged and very handsome, stared down his nose at Rocky. She looked from Rocky to the man, confused.
Robert? This guy must have him confused with someone else.
“Come on,” Rocky muttered, pushing past the men in suits.
Back on the bike, and back in control, they took off down the street, leaving the two men in a cloud of exhaust.
When they finally arrived at Rocky’s place, the mood was very grim. On the ride over, the gravity of her encounter with Joel had hit her like a ton of bricks. This was the first time she’d seen him since he moved out. This was the first time he had seen her since he moved out. She clung to Rocky for a moment, before dismounting the bike. Her shoulders began to shake, and Rocky placed a hand softly on her shoulder.
“Are you all right? That must have been tough.”
Fern tugged off the helmet, and clutched her chest for breath. She couldn’t breathe. Tears were streaming down her face. She was howling with laughter.
“YOU PUNCHED HIM IN THE FACE!” she squealed. “He’s never been so much as pinched in his life, and you punched him in his face!”
She coughed and sputtered, as Rocky took a long look at her. Then it struck her.
“Oh my God!” she cried. “Your fist! Are you okay? You must be in so much pain! You’re bleeding again!”
“I’ll be all right. I’ll be fixed up in no time,” he soothed. “Come on, let’s go upstairs.”
It was a squat little building, no more than four or five storeys, and quite narrow. His apartment was on the top floor – or, more appropriately,
was
the top floor – and smelled of him. It was a gorgeous space, an industrial-style loft with rugged, simplistic décor. It was definitely a
man’s
apartment. Standard manly things were found around the loft: a TV, a bed, a couch – the basics – but what caught her eye was just beyond the living room.
In the dark, on a long, wooden table sat several basins of water, all of which lay below a bare red bulb and a clothesline.
“Are you a photographer?” she whispered, afraid she might ruin the images by speaking too loudly.
“I take photos in my spare time, yes,” Rocky smiled. “I really enjoy it.”
“They’re breathtaking,” Fern gushed, moving from photo to drying photo, hanging on the line. Some were black and white, some were in color; some were crisp and others were blurry. All of them were stunning.
“They really are wonderful,” she encouraged. “You should pursue it, especially if it makes you this happy.”
He padded softly toward her, smiling, and breathed, “Thank you.”
When he reached her, he paused momentarily, the two of them looking at one another in the dim light of the streetlamps outside. As he took her in, she could see the thoughts running through his mind, feel all the things he wanted to say, but didn’t know how. She smiled at him, and he bent his head.
Their lips touched, so softly at first, that she needed open her eyes to be sure. She felt a shiver run through her body as his long fingers brushed a curl from her eyes, and ran down her neck. As she tilted her head up to meet his, a thought struck her.
“Why did that man call you Robert?” Fern recalled. “Do you know him?”
Rocky moved away from her, abruptly, and sighed.
“I’m sorry,” she emphasized. “I didn’t mean to upset you. Especially not after everything I made you listen to tonight.”
“No, you’re right,” Rocky coughed. “You shared your most tender wound with me – a complete stranger – and I should share something equally as delicate with you, at the very least.”
Fern walked to him, and took his hand, leading him to the couch where they sat down together. After a deep breath, Rocky began.
“He called me Robert because that is my name. Robert Oliver Constantin Koontz III. I started going by Rocky as a teenager – it’s an anagram. And yeah, I do know him. He’s Robert Oliver Constantine Koontz Junior; he’s my dad.”
Fern listened, patiently, as Rocky went on.
“My dad is a successful lawyer – a
very
successful lawyer. As was his father; as was I expected to be. Law was never my thing; I always had a passion for the arts, for photography. I didn’t buy into that whole, ‘I’m your first-born, so I have to adopt the family business’ bullshit. But my brother, Billy, did.
“Billy was my dad’s pride and joy. Athletic, smart, and eager to join the family practice – what’s not to love, right? Mom said she loved us both, equally, but I knew which one of us my dad loved more.
“Anyway, this time last year, Bill was two months away from graduating with his Honors Degree in Law, when I called him from a party. I was wasted, Fern - right fucked up – and being the perfect brother he was, he came to get me. He had class the next morning, and he was exhausted. He needed to get back to bed, so he decided to take the highway outside the city. It was the fastest way.
“I’d thrown the passenger seat back and passed out. When I threw up, I was too drunk to help myself; I started choking.”
Rocky began shaking his head, his deep, blue eyes misty with memory.
“He should have been paying attention to the road. He shouldn’t have needed to take care of me; I’m his older brother for fuck’s sake. If he had been watching the road, he’d have seen the semi coming sooner. That driver did fall asleep; it was late, and he was tired. Billy saw it at the last second, and swerved. We missed the truck, but rolled into the ditch. I was flung from the car, but Billy… he was stuck inside it.
“It was a sobering experience, that. I remember waking up and crawling to him – my leg was broken – and right as I reached his window - it was like a light went out. He was gone.”
By the time Rocky finished, Fern was weeping softly, her hand stroking his back. His crying had subsided, and all that remained was numbness. She stood up, his hands in hers, and guided him to the bed. They lay next to one another for hours, in silence, Fern running her fingers through Rocky’s hair.
When Fern awoke the next morning, he was still lying next to her, the soft rise and fall of his chest told her he was sleeping. She had no idea how long they’d laid like that, just being with one another, in the moment. She smiled into the mid-morning sun. For so long, this quiet, destructive man masked a tragedy with indifference – apathy was his only defense.
Fern leaned over to brush a kiss on his lips, feel the gentle warmth of his breath on her cheek. Then a hand moved to brush the same stubborn curl out of her eyes.
“Good morning,” he smiled. “How did you sleep?”
“Really well,” Fern smiled back. “And yourself?”
“I haven’t slept that well in years,” he laughed in surprise.
As he placed a light kiss on her forehead, he whispered, “Thank you,” and in that phrase, Fern knew, there was more than just a good night’s sleep; there was every lost moment with his brother, every ounce of bruised pride. There was a peace he hadn’t known in a long time.
She kissed him, again, harder; deeper. Her breathing slowed down despite her racing heart. Running her fingers through his hair, she felt his need of her start to grow. His hands explored her back, her bottom, everywhere they could. Before she knew what they were up to, her own hands were pulling off his t-shirt to reveal a lean, muscular chest.
The tattoos running down his arms stopped at his shoulders – she was surprised that she had been expecting a full canvas of ink. Impatient, her hands kneaded his strong arms. She could tell that the years of partying had taken a toll on his body; he was verging on the edge of gaunt, but she knew what sadness could do to a person. Her mission that morning was to make him happy.
As she kissed her way down his stomach, he tugged the blouse over her head, and she flushed. The sorcery of the makeover had dissipated, leaving unkind lines down her sides; that shirt had really been too tight, it was such a relief to get it off.
Fern began to retreat, making excuses as to why she was covering herself.
“Stop it,” Rocky breathed. “You. Are. Beautiful.”
A grin spread across her beautiful face as he lay her down, trailing kisses down her neck and onto her ample bosom. He slipped a hand behind her to unclasp her bra, and cast it aside. Taking one nipple in his mouth and the other in his hand, Rocky flicked both finger and tongue, sending waves of goosebumps through her body.
His other hand found its home on her thigh, massaging her leg and buttock, and moving inward. The pressure was light, at first, but as he felt her body respond, it grew heavier and heavier. Rocky kissed every inch of her as he made his way down to slide off her pants. They had been so tight, she was forced to surrender her underwear.
“I love a girl who can go commando,” he smirked. Fern laughed, and released a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.
He placed his hand on her stomach as he returned to kiss her collarbone. His hand teased its way down to begin its deliberate caressing. With each trip over her clitoris, she felt her body convulse, each tantalizing journey his fingers made lower – her breath caught in her throat. She didn’t know how much more of this she could take.
A deep moan escaped her as he pressed his fingers in, moving rhythmically to the beat of her body. When he began kissing his way to meet his hand, she thought her heart would stop. If she thought her body had convulsed before, she had been mistaken. With every move of his tongue she was certain she would explode. He felt her desire, and quickened his pace. It quickened her pulse, as well.
“Oh my God,” she moaned, as her ecstasy mounted. Closer and closer she came to release.
Rocky slowed his fingers, his tongue removed completely. Painfully slow, he kissed his way up to her earlobe, and nibbled it lightly.
“I want to make love to you,” he panted. She could feel his erection throb between them. She bit her lip, and gurgled mischievously.
“I’d like that.”
As he lay down on the bed, Fern knelt before him, first unbuckling his belt, and then unbuttoning his jeans. Moving slowly was torture for her; she could only imagine what it was doing to him. Once his clothes were off, she sat for a moment, drinking him in. She bit her lip once more and leaned forward.
Urgency left no room for decorum; she had had enough of teasing, thank you very much. She took him full in her mouth, steadily gaining speed. It was comforting, his hands in her hair; it really made her feel his need. One hand joined the movement as the other moved to massage below, and she smiled to herself when she heard his breath catch.
“Fern,” he moaned, and that fueled the fire.
She began moving faster, squeezed just a little more firmly, and his hands on her head were a little more deliberate. She felt his body tense, and she pulled away.
Okay, I guess a little teasing is all right.
“Make love to me,” she implored. She could barely hear over her heartbeat pounding in her ears.
He laid her down, kissing her forehead and cheeks, her neck and her shoulders. As he entered her, they both moaned in ecstasy.
He began slowly, gaining momentum with each thrust. Fern’s eyes rolled back in her head, her back arched. She could feel his heart beat against her chest, feel his muscles in his arms tense and release. She wrapped her legs around him to pull him in deeper, and she gasped.
She was getting close.
She looked up at this man, this stranger; his big, blue eyes gazing down at her, affectionately. This stranger, with whom she felt more comfortable after one night, than in five years with the man she thought she was going to marry.
Fuck, am I in trouble,
she thought. She smiled, and he leant down to kiss her.