Andrew

Amelia didn’t want to think Andrew at all. No matter how many times she chided herself, how many times she worked herself to death. But each time she returned to her hometown, her thoughts inevitably turned to him and what she had done. Disgusted with herself as always, she tried to put him aside and threw headlong into work, but as always, the image of Andrew returned to taunt her. Oh, if only she hadn't been impetuous. But alas, even after 12 years, the deed remained done and irrevocable.

Every time she went home, she kept wondering if she would bump into him on the streets. After all, how big was Ipoh town? Everyone knew most everybody. The streets have not been extended or increased. There were only so many places to eat. Yet miraculously – was it? – she never saw him, not a glimpse or a shadow. If she didn’t know better, she swore he had permanently dropped off the face of this country.

But she didn’t know. She had severed all ties to her past, her old friends and all. How that happened was too complicated and excruciating to ponder over. There was nothing where she could pick up pieces from. If she wanted to search for him, she wouldn’t know where to start. Perhaps he really had left the town, only going back on rare holidays. Maybe she was lucky. She wouldn’t know what to say anyway. Whatever it was, she never saw Andrew or heard from him ever. She regretted her rash actions. She wished she didn’t return his photo along with his letters. At least then she would have something of him to remember by. Yet, she felt that she would recognize him anyway… she felt she could.

That night her memories tormented her. She remembered times when the night breeze blew into her room, cooling her skin, refreshing her mind to the pleasures she experienced in this very bed with him, heated and never really enough. Silent and unawares, he crept in with the cool wind, bringing with him his warmth and desire.

“Andrew!” she gasped.

“My sweet, did you miss me?” he asked, smiling in the dark, hands gentle and strong as he swept the sheets aside. The air teased her naked skin, she shivered and he covered her with his body. “Did you?” he asked again, persistently and unrelenting.

“Always,” she finally said, turning her head away. “You know the answer to that.”

“Then why do you turn from me?” he kissed her exposed nape. She shuddered, not answering. He chuckled. He knew her every thought. As if sending her need, he pulled her into his arms, spoon-fashion and drew the sheets over them. She sighed as she leaned into him, drawing strength and comfort, gathering courage to speak to him of her feelings.

“I’m afraid.”

“Of?”

“Of waking up alone, of never being able to say certain things to you.”

“You think of unimportant things. And you always look so sad. Why?”

“I am who I am. If I look sad, it is because of myself. Don’t ask me questions as such. You wouldn’t understand.”

“I wouldn’t understand?” he repeatedly incredulously. With a growl, he turned her on her back and leaned heavily into her. “I am probably the only one who understands you. Who listens to your fears, your desires whispered in the night? Or do you have another, waiting behind the curtains?” His nose flared, anger sparked at her audacity. Instantly reminded of his constant restrain of stronger emotions, she trembled, even though she knew he would not hurt her.

“I only know what I see and don’t.” She lifted a shaking hand to his face. “But, there is no other. There never was. There was, ever, only you. Need you ask?” she whispered.

He smiled, appeased, because he knew that what she said was true. He took one of her hands and put it over his heart. “Instead of thinking such morbid thoughts, why don’t you feel me instead?” he said, sliding her hand down his chest, over the plane of his stomach, slowly but with a purpose.

His other hand lightly skimmed her neck, smoothening away her hair, over her breasts, nipples now hard and alert. The hand paused for a moment then continued, until it reached her stomach. He began to caress her smooth skin.

“Ever wondered if lovemaking would hurt a child while inside?” he asked, momentarily fascinated with the thought.

Amelia watched as he caressed and kissed, her pores practically opened and calling out in fire. He lifted his gaze to her eyes, aware of her heavy breathing, raised eyebrows, waiting for her answer.

“I don’t know. Would it?” she asked back tremulously.

“Well, I think not. But anyway, we wouldn’t know now, would we?” he said, finally finding her womanhood, sinking in one finger. Amelia sucked in a breath, hips raised at the sudden pleasure, attention lost in the shards of fire thundering through her bloodstream. The finger began a series of circling and rubbing around her core, rhythmic and insistent. She felt her juices flowing and felt the finger increasing tempo.

“I want you to feel me like you never did.” Andrew grind out, rubbing urgently at her pleasure button, over and over he flicked her sensitive bud with his thumb, until she was writhing beneath him. One other finger went in, then another, her core stretching to accommodate him, her hips rise and fell with each pounding and thrusting of the fingers, her breath came out in hisses. Meanwhile, Andrew continued to tease her breasts with his tongue, licking her nipples, occasionally nipping them playfully.

“I will not come to you for a week, so that you will miss me more, want me more with every fiber of your being. Then I will come to you and pleasure you until you scream for more.” He pressed the pad of his thumb harder on her clit and she started jerking. “Then I will go again, leaving you craving for me. You will be filled with want for me every second, every breath of every day.” His fingers was pulling in and out of her rapidly, she felt the world spinning out of control, her thighs trembled and tightened on his fingers, creating more friction and she began to thrust with his strokes, hissing with pleasure. “You will think of me, fucking you, right here, right now, in this bed, every night, fucking your beautiful cunt.”

Amelia screamed, stars exploded in her vision. She fell over the clouds, spinning madly. As she calmed down and caught her breath, she whispered raggedly.

“Andrew.”

He leaned over and kissed her lingeringly. He stroked her face. She caught his hand and sucked at his fingers. When she finished, he was looking at her with a wolfish gleam. As she caught the gleam in his eyes, she saw something else lurking behind the desire and blurted out her innermost thoughts, the very thought on her mind the whole time.

“Don’t leave me,” she pleaded.

As soon as she said the words, she realized her error. The look froze in his eyes, growing cold and hard. He smiled unfeelingly even as she saw him began to fade. She caught his hand but he pulled away.

“But you sent me away,” he whispered.

“I was wrong,” she pleaded, tears now flowing freely.

“But… the fact is… you… sent me away.” He was gone, the words dying in the night. Warmth fled with Andrew, leaving her cold and wanting, full of regret. Ashamed of her wanton actions, the stain of her juices showing prominently where she imagined Andrew laid, the lingering smell of her sex on her fingers, and where she had tried to gain pleasure to ease her guilt and need, she drew herself into a ball and cried.

“Andrew…”