Page 114 of Hold the Pickle
Her belly shudders, and I realize how pent up she’s been. How much we both have been longing for each other. I slip a finger inside her and suck on the pronounced nub of her clit.
That’s all it takes. She’s over the top, grabbing my hair, crying out my name and random syllables and sliding into a lengthy, breathy groan.
Her body shudders, her hips rocking back and forth. I keep licking, drawing it out, unrelenting, until she holds my head still.
We lie there for several heartbeats, letting her body settle. Then she pulls herself up to sitting and takes my arms, lifting me so that she can rid me of the pants.
She has the same problem, pausing to remove my shoes. Then I’m naked by the bed and she scoots backward, drawing me down on top of her.
When I enter her, she cries out again. Her eyes sparkle with tears. I’m emotional, too, clasping her head as I move inside her.
This is where we belong, where we should always be.
How can we get this back?
She wraps her legs around my back and moves up and down, wanting more speed, more depth. I give it to her, and the bed rocks as I take her hard and fast.
She gasps, a guttural cry escaping her a second time. I crash into her body, unrelenting, crazed. I need her like nothing else. I will do anything for her. Quit the hospital. Live in my car. I can’t let her go again.
She grips my shoulders and I release into her, my whole body alight, dazzled and electric to be here again, making her mine, being hers.
I hold myself above her, trying to get my bearings.
She presses her face into the side of my neck like she always used to, and I drag her tightly against me. I want as much connection with her as I can get for as long as possible.
We roll onto our sides, listening to the silence of the room. It’s never been so quiet when we were together, with cats padding around before.
I want them back too.
Eventually, our breathing slows and we both trace lazy circles on each other’s skin.
“How long do we have until your next shift starts?” she asks.
“Tomorrow evening.”
“Will you work twelve or twenty-four?”
“Twelve.”
She breathes against my skin. The warmth of her is comforting. But she’ll get a text soon. The baby will be born. She’ll spend time with family. I’ll have another shift.
I try to push the thoughts away, but they must be crashing down on Nadia as well, as she says, “I won’t be staying to help like I originally planned when I lived here. I have work to do in Boulder.”
Everything in me tenses. “So you’ll leave again?”
Her eyelashes flutter against my jaw. “I don’t want to.” The way she looks up at me in the low light from the kitchen is so familiar that I half expect a kitten to suddenly squirm between us.
“What do we do?” I pull her even closer, as if I could draw her into me.
“Los Angeles is so expensive,” she says. “I looked and looked. Unless I take a high-paying job in some soul-sucking corporation, I can’t swing it.”
“You mean renting a place for the cats?”
“I mean starting a rescue, or working with rescues. I’ve tried every which way.”
I kiss the top of her head. “Then I will have to find a way to come to you.”
“How? You’re in a program.”
