A Week in the Snow (27 page)

Richard watched her move around the room, berating himself for not making love to her. Was he really going to let Amanda’s anger keep him from enjoying the woman he wanted so much? But now she was dressed, and so was he, and she was looking at him from the top of the stairs.

“Hurry up, lazybones,” she said.

Richard drove them to the office, where the same young man was there to greet them. The coffee in the back room was piping hot and Richard poured two cups. Rebecca wandered over to the layout room as she shrugged out of her jacket. He watched her bend low over the old press and study it. Her shirt fit snugly into the waist of her jeans. Her hourglass profile was accentuated by a thin leather belt. She had left her hair down today, the better to cover the marks on the side of her face, and when she arched her back to stretch, he watched as her breasts were thrown into sharp relief.

Her nipples were hard under her shirt.

Richard stared at them as she moved. She must have known he was watching her, for sometimes she seemed to glance sidelong at him, but she never acknowledged him. She just moved among the things he was so familiar with, taking her time, and every now and then she would stand in such a way he could have sworn she was posing for him.

When she moved from his office area to the rooms that never got used anymore, the ones so crowded with the flotsam of days gone by that Richard mostly just kept the doors closed and ignored the mess, he grinned and followed her.

He closed the door behind them.

The room was pitch-black without the overhead light from the next room over. He could hear the slight rustling sounds Rebecca made as she moved carefully in the room, perhaps turning around to look at him, perhaps trying to feel her way back to him. Finally the movement stopped and her voice came, low and careful. “Does the door lock?”

Richard reached behind him, felt for the knob, and found no lock there. He had never thought to look for one before. “No.”

There was silence for a long moment. “Good.”

Richard waited to let his eyes adjust to the darkness, but there was no adjusting to be had. It really was dark as a tomb in there, and it smelt like one, too—musty paper, dusty computers tucked away in corners, wood that was a century old.

Richard took a few steps forward, feeling his way with his shins and his hands, hoping he would brush up against something rather than slam into it. He took his time, working towards where he had heard her voice. If he stood quietly for a moment, he could hear her breathing.

When he reached something hard, he wrapped his hand around it. It was wooden, and smooth—maybe part of a frame of some old machine, something that hadn’t been used in decades. He felt with his other hand and there she was, warm flesh under his palm.

He slid his hand down. And down.

She was naked.

Richard’s cock was instantly hard. What he couldn’t do in the glare of the sunlight was the one thing he couldn’t live without, here in the utter darkness. Using her body as a guide, he stepped behind her and realised she was bent over the old printing press, her hands outstretched, her bare ass waiting.

“Fuck me,” she whispered.

Richard pulled down his slacks. He listened for sounds from outside the door, any evidence of an interruption, but even as he listened he knew he didn’t give a damn. There was a warm and willing woman right in front of him, her pussy already wet, and what else mattered?

He slid in with one long, smooth thrust.

Rebecca arched her back, pushing on to him, and smiled in the darkness. He fit her perfectly, like a key to a lock. She spread her legs wider and bent low over the machine in front of her, the metal parts cold against her hard nipples, the smooth rubber parts slippery against her body. Richard’s hands were on her hips and he was pulling her back, fucking her hard, while she held on.

Richard rammed into her with all the force he had. He knew she was bruised and battered, but that paled in comparison to how wet and hot her cunt was around his dick. She wanted a fuck, and she wanted it hard. She slammed back into him, giving as good as she got. His balls made a soft slapping sound with every thrust, and he grunted softly every time he pushed in.

Rebecca spread her legs wider, desperate to get him deeper. He bent his knees and fucked her with an upward angle, a new sensation that made her shake with the impending orgasm. He was touching something within her, something that was hard to reach, and she was afraid to move, lest the pleasure disappear. “Right there,” she whispered. “Right there, oh, God, don’t stop.”

Richard pumped in and out of her, nothing but his hips moving. He held her thighs hard with his hands when she started to squirm, not letting her move away from him, and not letting up. The metal rattled underneath her as she tightened her hands on it, pulling hard, the orgasm blossoming from the inside out.

Richard knew when she came. Though she didn’t make a sound, he felt the pulses of her cunt around him, both sucking at him and trying to push him out at the same time. He held very still inside her for a moment, enjoying the sensation. When he moved again it was to pump hard, straight in and out, now intent on making himself come, too.

When he did come, he had to bite his lip to keep from hollering.

He held inside her for as long as he could. Then he rubbed against her, spreading her wetness all over them both. She giggled at the slippery feeling, and he shushed her with a loud stage whisper. “Somebody will come back here and see you naked,” he warned.

“You would like that, wouldn’t you?”

His cock twitched in response, making her laugh again.

Richard carefully pulled up his pants. He made his way back towards the door as Rebecca made herself somewhat presentable. When she gave the okay, he opened the door just a little, enough to let the light shine through, and looked at her.

Her hair was a mess, the way he loved to see it. Her cheeks were flushed, and in the dim light the bruised eye didn’t look bruised at all. She gave him a wicked grin.

“I think I have ink on my tits,” she said.

The rest of the day was spent flirting like mad while he tried to get work done. He pushed himself to finish more articles than he usually did, and Rebecca did her best to help him, though she was miserable at proofreading and admitted as much. She kept staring at him instead of at the papers in front of her. Every time he got up for something, she made sure to reach out and touch him. The constant scrutiny kept him hot, and the constant interruptions from townsfolk and employees kept the frustration high. Though he knew he was there to work, there was nothing he wanted more than Rebecca in bed, moaning on his cock.

When the office finally closed up for the day, Richard bade the last employee goodbye and locked the door behind them. He pulled the shades down and turned to the woman who had been waiting for this moment all day.

“You vixen,” he growled, then he was on her.

They did it in his office chair. She sat on top of him, her legs draped on either side, and lowered her wet hole on to his dick. He slid in without the slightest hint of resistance, but when she pulled up on him she squeezed hard with her inner muscles. The result was like a firm handjob, only much, much nicer. He teased her nipples with his fingertips while she bounced up and down on him, her head thrown back. When she reached back to brace herself on the desk, all the paperwork slid to the floor, where it was completely ignored. She leant back against the computer monitor and when the keyboard got in the way, she pushed it aside, letting it fall to the floor with a clatter.

Richard stood up and grabbed her hips, pressing her firmly into his desk, running his dick in and out of her while she squealed with delight. She grabbed the edge of the desk, knocking over a cup full of pens and pencils. They scattered on the floor and rolled in every direction. Richard leaned over her, thrusting hard into her pussy and running his dick against her clit at the same time, stimulating her from the inside out. She bucked against him when she came, her mouth open wide with ecstasy, her eyes wild as they met his. He came right along with her, his balls throbbing as he emptied into her.

Someone knocked on the door.

The sound startled Richard so much he almost dropped Rebecca to the floor. She caught herself on the edge of the desk and lowered her feet to the ground, staring at the front door. The blinds there were closed but could someone see through anyway? Maybe from around the corner?

Richard pulled his pants up and shrugged into his shirt. “It’s probably someone wanting to place an ad before deadline.”

The sound came again, but this time it was an insistent pounding. Someone knew they were in there, and they weren’t taking silence for an answer.

Rebecca quickly found her clothes and put them on. Richard waited in the inner doorway while she made herself look presentable, then he peeked out of the shade at whoever was beating down the door.

When he saw his mother, he sighed.

“Let me in, son! Damn it, it’s cold out here.”

Richard opened the door and Janette came inside, a whirl of wool and cold and anger.

She glared at him then shot a vicious look at Rebecca. “What have you done?” she almost yelled, and, though Rebecca’s instinct was to fade into the office and avoid this confrontation, Richard stood his ground and calmly answered.

“I’m not sure you want to know what I was just doing, Ma.”

His mother looked as though she wanted to slap him. “Don’t be obscene.”

“If this is about Amanda, Ma, you’ve got no cause to argue. She’s in the psych ward at General.”

“She’s a very sick woman!”

“Yes, she is.”

“And you’re still leaving her? I figured you would be the good man I raised you to be, and come to your senses! You don’t just leave your wife when she’s in the hospital and in need of her husband’s good care!”

Richard rubbed his eyes. “She’s been gone for years, Ma. I’m sorry she’s sick and I will do what I can to help her, but I’m not in love with her anymore.”

“Oh, yes, you are. You’re just blinded by that…that…”

“My name is Rebecca,” she said from across the room, and won a glare from Janette.

“I’m not in love with Amanda,” he said again, “and I’m not a martyr.”

“You’re a married man!”

Richard held up his hands. Both of them were bare of rings. “I haven’t been married for a long time, Ma. The divorce papers just make it legal.”

“It’s not right,” she said again, and Richard realised she didn’t know any argument other than that one. She had lived her life based on a certain set of rules, a certain expectation of doing things, and she thought the whole world should work that way. When it didn’t, she clucked and shook her head in consternation, but when it was her own son who broke the rules, she was hell-bent on bringing him back into line.

“Maybe it’s not right,” he agreed. “I wish the world worked that way, Ma. I wish we lived in a place where relationships lasted, and husbands and wives treated one another with respect. I wish this world knew nothing of divorce, or arguments, or illness, and everything worked out. But that’s a utopia, Ma, and humans aren’t capable of utopia in large doses.”

She glared at him. “Don’t you get all philosophical with me,” she said, pointing a finger.

“If she hadn’t left, Ma, none of this would have happened. If I had known she was sick before I married her, I would have been able to see the signs, and I might have been able to help her. But none of those things happened, and life is the way it is. I’m sorry if you don’t like it, but I’m getting a divorce, and no amount of bickering or guilt-tripping is going to change that.”

Janette had tears in her eyes. “You haven’t even been to see her.”

“That’s where I’m going right now, if you will let us leave here and do it.”

Janette shot a look of pure spite at Rebecca. The younger woman stood her ground but inside she shrank away from that look, hating the fact that Janette would never accept her, no matter how much time went by or how her relationship with Richard evolved.

Richard watched his mother leave. She practically ran to her car, got in behind the wheel, and made a show of wiping away tears before she started the car and drove away.

Even as he watched her he knew she would never come around, and that, as much as she loved him, their relationship would be strained from this point on, no matter what he did. It was something he would have to learn to live with, but he didn’t imagine it would ever stop hurting.

“I’m sorry,” Rebecca said, coming up behind him.

“You and me both,” he said, and put his arm around her.

“Let’s go get flowers for Amanda,” Rebecca said. “I’ll wait in the car while you go up to see her.”

Richard looked down at her. “You sure?”

Rebecca was absolutely sure. In fact, she was much surer of everything than she had ever been. She understood that Amanda was sick, that she needed all the help she could get—and that included Richard’s forgiveness. She also knew that no matter what was happening around them, no matter who didn’t agree with their relationship, she was in this for the long haul. She knew Richard was in it for good, too.

“Daisies are good. Do you think we can find daisies at this hour?”

Richard led her out the door, wondering if the hospital gift shop was still open.

Chapter Nineteen

Before they knew it, Christmas arrived. Richard spent it in Miami, his first time celebrating Christmas in a place where he didn’t have to wear a coat to go outside. Rebecca’s tiny apartment was filled with lights. A Christmas tree was up in the living room, which meant one less place to sit, because she had moved a chair out to the balcony to make room.

On Christmas morning they sat on that balcony in the early sunlight, wearing pyjamas and drinking iced tea instead of hot cocoa. It was the strangest Christmas he had ever had, and quite possibly the happiest.

Amanda was still in the hospital, where she would probably stay for quite some time. Richard called Grace every few days to check on how she was doing, and he made sure to send weekly flowers, but he knew it was best for Amanda if he didn’t contact her directly. She was just now stabilising, and he would do her more harm than good. Every time he hung up the phone with Grace he felt a twinge of guilt, and wondered what he could have done to see the signs. He thought he would always feel that guilt, no matter how much time passed.