Phoenix (17 page)

His statement makes me sad. How can he not see himself the way I see him?
“You are good for everything. The things you’ve survived make you almost seem
unreal to me.” I pause before braving a confession. “Sometimes I dream about
you as this ancient warrior.” I give a little embarrassed laugh. “Perhaps I
read too much of the classics to my students and the stories are infiltrating
my sleep. But all I know is that they have meaning. My dreams show you as the
strength and fearlessness I long to possess. So don’t ever say you are good for
nothing, Phoenix, because you make my life bright again. I didn’t think I’d
ever find another friend like Harriet, but I have found better. I have found
you.”

I look at him now and his eyes are burning into me; a solitary tear
trickles down his cheek. I gasp when I see it, reaching forward to wipe it
away. The next thing I know he is gripping my neck and pulling my mouth to his
in a fierce and possessive kiss. His tongue plunges past my lips, melding and
grinding against mine. He tugs me to his lap and I wrap my arms around his neck,
playing with the clipped ends of his hair.

He breaks the kiss, breathing heavily, and whispers, “
S’Agapo
.”

Before I have the chance to question what he means his mouth is on me
again, making me forget everything else.

After dinner
Phoenix goes out to his garden to train and I relax in the living room in front
of the television. I don’t want to go back to my empty cottage tonight,
especially knowing that Mum and Maxwell are still in town. Phoenix told me he’d
like it if I stayed and I said yes.

After a while I decide to go upstairs and run myself a bath, since I’m
feeling pretty grimy after a long day of teaching. In Phoenix’s bathroom I find
towels and the usual bathing products, all of them for men, but I don’t mind
smelling like a man if it means I’ll smell like him.

Once the tub is full I climb in and lie back, closing my eyes and allowing
the peace to wash over me. I soak a washcloth in the water and then lay it over
my forehead. Closing my eyes again, memories of last night flood my head and my
nipples harden as the image of Phoenix with his face between my legs takes
hold.

I get a fright when the bathroom door opens. When I look up I find
Phoenix standing there, a sheen of sweat over his forehead from training. He’s
wearing black workout pants and a tight grey T-shirt.

“Hey,” I say in a small voice. “I hope you don’t mind, but sometimes I
like to take a bath before I go to bed. It helps me unwind.”

A slow grin spreads across his lips. “I don’t mind at all. Take your
time.”

He saunters into the room, closing the door behind him and sitting down
on the wooden chair by the sink. I’m hyper aware of the fact that most of the
bubbles have dissolved and my naked body is completely viewable beneath the
water. It’s not like he hasn’t seen it all already, but I still feel vulnerable
under his hot, intense stare. I make contact with those deep brown eyes of his
and I see myself last night, taking his cock into my mouth. I remember how his
entire body undulated when I’d taken him in as far as I could go.

“Are you just going to sit there and watch me?” I ask in an unexpectedly
husky voice.

Phoenix folds his arms and leans back in the chair. “That’s the plan.”

I eye him warily. “Okay, then.”

Picking up a jug, I fill it with water, lift it above my head and pour it
over my hair. I repeat the action and then squeeze some shampoo into my hand before
lathering it into my long tresses. I hear Phoenix suck in a harsh breath when
my nipples rise above the water, two tight peaks. Soaping up the washcloth, I
draw it over my breasts and then make eye contact with him. I want him in here
with me so that I can wash his sweaty body clean and then he can make love to
me in the water.

He grips the handles of the chair as though to keep from doing just that.

“Join me,” I whisper.

He shakes his head and replies, “Watching you is almost as good as being
in there with you.”

“You like watching?” I ask nervously.

“I really like watching,” he purrs, eyes as dark as sin.

I rinse the suds from my hair and then lie back, throwing one leg over
the edge of the tub and leaning the other against the far side. I reach down
and pinch my nipple, biting my lower lip as I do and letting out a quiet moan.

“Eve,” comes Phoenix’s throaty growl.

“You want me to stop?” I question, unsure.

“No.”

In answer to that I run my hand over my breast, moulding it with my palm
before trailing over the other nipple. I circle it, torturing myself, feeling
myself grow incredibly aroused to know that he is watching me. I use both hands
now, massaging my breasts and closing my eyes when I hear him groan. My clit is
throbbing, begging for some kind of touch.

Taking the bottle of shower gel, I pour some into my hand and rub it over
my breasts, creating a soapy lather.

“Christ,” Phoenix says with choppy breathing.

“Are you sure you don’t want to join me?” My voice is more rasp than
sound.

He shakes his head and my eyes are drawn to the hard bulge straining
against the crotch of his pants. I continue palming my breast while I run the
other hand up my inner thigh. When I whisper my finger over my clit I
practically convulse as tiny sparks of pleasure consume me. I let out a loud
moan that fills the room.

“Put your fingers inside yourself,” Phoenix instructs quietly.

I rub my clit another time and then slip my hand along my folds, reaching
for my opening. I slide two fingers in and slowly begin to pump. My mouth falls
open as little gasps tumble from my lips.

I hear the chair scratch against the floor as Phoenix comes to kneel by
the edge of the tub. I expect him to touch me, but he doesn’t. He has simply
come closer to get a better view. His eyes burn as they watch my fingers move
in and out. My chest heaves. I pinch my nipple hard, a storm building inside of
me. I never thought it could be so erotic
not
to be touched by him.

His gaze is glued to the show going on between my legs. I drag my fingers
out and bring them back to my clit, making big, slow, torturous circles.

I moan and Phoenix curses in Greek. The hard erection beneath his pants
makes me hotter. I can’t take my eyes off it. I want it inside of me. Water
splashes against the tub as my movements become more frantic, seeking release.
I’m making all sorts of noises and if I weren’t so turned on I’d probably be
embarrassed by them.

I open my eyes and Phoenix’s face is mere inches from mine; he knows I’m
close to unravelling. A red blush spreads over my cheeks, all the way down my
chest. One last circle and I am vibrating with my orgasm, shaking once, twice,
three times as Phoenix views it all without laying a single finger on me. Then
he leans closer and takes my mouth in a hot, wet kiss. I moan as his tongue
strokes hard over mine.

“That was beautiful,” he tells me as he pulls away, voice tight with
need.

A second later he is pulling me from the tub and wrapping me in a thick
white towel. He scoops me up into his arms and carries me to his room where he
lays me down on the bed. The towel falls from my damp body as he stands back
and practically tears his clothes off. When he is naked he walks to his dresser
and withdraws a condom, quickly unwrapping it and slipping it on. He hops up
onto the bed and grabs my waist before flipping me over onto my belly. He
spreads my legs, positions his erection between them and then surges into me,
the invasion exquisite in every way. I have never been taken from this position
before and it feels deeper than anything else I’ve experienced.

Phoenix thrusts his hips back and forth in quick succession, his hard
abdomen slamming against my bottom with noisy slaps. He grips the back of my
neck and encourages me to rise up on all fours, all the while never once
slipping out of me. Then he grabs my hip with one hand and with the other he takes
my hair, lightly tugging on it every time he pumps in. A sharp sting of pain
whispers over my scalp and mixes with the pleasure of his cock as he fucks me.

His hand moves from my hip and around my stomach to reach down to my
clit. He circles it quickly, the pleasure encapsulating me. As he continues to
thrust, I feel as though I am going to come on the inside and on the out.
Bending over me he bites down gently on my earlobe and I let out a throaty cry.
This is the trigger that causes me to explode; my entire channel pulsates,
milking him dry as he shatters with his own orgasm.

We stay like that for a long time before Phoenix pulls me into his arms,
wrapping me in his embrace. He is still inside of me and I like him there. He
places tender kisses all along my neck and I’m lulled to sleep by it.

I wake up in the early hours of the morning. Phoenix is looming over me
in the barely there light, his dark hair hanging over his forehead. He is hard
and ready inside of me and he’s already thrusting in and out torturously slow.

“Ah,” I moan.

I’m so tender on the inside and I feel weak from lovemaking, yet the
sensation of his cock is still amazing. He bends down, bringing his open mouth
to my throat, sucking on my sensitive skin.

“I will never tire of this,” he vows.

I stare into his eyes. My entire being seems as though it is on the verge
of cracking at the love I find there. I’m not sure if I can take it. Never in
my life have I felt this kind of a draw to another person. I don’t know what I’d
do if I lost him and it scares me to death.

“You said something to me in Greek last night, but you never explained
what it meant,” I breathe as he works his way up my neck to my jaw.

The ghost of a smile tugs at his mouth. “You don’t forget anything, do
you?”

“Not often,” I answer and then sigh when his tongue flicks over my
earlobe.

“I said,
S’Agapo
,” he replies, eyes darkening.

“What does it mean?”

“Sweet, beautiful, Eve, it means I love you.”

I gasp and tears instantly fill my eyes.

“Don’t cry, my sweet. I never thought I could feel love again. You gave
me that gift simply by existing around me. I don’t know how any man could not
love you once he knew you. It doesn’t matter if you don’t feel it in return. I
understand, for you are infinitely more loveable than I.”

With each word his gaze sinks deeper into me, marking me. I can’t believe
he thinks he isn’t loveable. I feel as though I have loved him since the very
first moment his eyes met mine; they were a mystery that crawled deep into my
soul.

I pull his mouth to mine and roll us so that I am on top of him, moving
back and forth on his thickness, my hips thrusting. Breaking our kiss, sweat
and lust and everything in between fills me up. I meet his stare. His mouth
hangs open with desire.

“You are infinitely loveable, Phoenix,” I whisper into the vague morning
light. “And I love you, too.”

It’s a wonder
that I make it into work at all. After I told Phoenix I loved him he made me
come with his mouth, his fingers, his cock. My body is sated. It feels like a
gooey mess of emotions and lust.

As I carry out my lessons, my thoughts wander to darker things. I
consider how Mum and Maxwell are still in town, yet they haven’t tried to
contact me. It makes me wonder if they’re planning something.

During the mid-morning break there is a rapping of knuckles on my door
just before Tim enters. He wears a sheepish expression, his usual confidence
barely there today.

“Tim,” I say as he comes to stand in front of my desk, not knowing what
he’s going to say. My worst fear is that he’ll press charges against Phoenix
for hitting him.

He runs a hand through his highlighted hair. “I just came to apologise
for what happened yesterday. I’m sorry I was so pushy about taking you to
dinner.”

I study him. That’s definitely not what I’d expected from him. And then,
I see it. The fear in his eyes. At some point he must have recognised the
killer in Phoenix. Now he is afraid.

“It’s okay, Tim.”

“Your, uh, your friend, will you let him know I apologised as well? I’d
do it face to face but I think I value my testicles too much for that.”

His attempt at humour lightens the mood a touch.

“Yeah, I’ll tell him.” I give him a small smile.

“I was an arse. It won’t happen again. So, are you seeing him?” he
questions, unsure.

I give him a closed off look. “He’s my neighbour, Tim.”

What I have with Phoenix feels way too precious right now to tell other
people. I want to keep it just for us for a little while longer. Tim seems to
understand the meaning in my words as he nods and leaves the room, saying he
might see me at lunch.

That evening Phoenix comes to my cottage and I make us dinner. Afterwards
he requests that I play my piano. I sit down on the bench, remembering the
first time I’d played for him, when he’d crawled underneath, positioned himself
between my legs and gone down on me.

My fingers twitch with the memory and I begin to play Part Two of Philip
Glass’
Metamorphosis
. It remains an appropriate theme. I am still
changing with Phoenix. He fascinates me; every new thing I learn about him
helps me to learn something new about myself.

This piece is lighter than the first. If you were to imagine the
development of a caterpillar into a butterfly, the first part would have been
the caterpillar and this one the butterfly. Phoenix lies on my sofa, his long
legs dangling off the edge, his hands resting behind his head as he watches me
play.

I see myself as the caterpillar, living inside my exoskeleton, never showing
my real self to anybody except for Harriet. I was still inside that exoskeleton
when Phoenix came along. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to break free but he
encouraged me, taught me how to spread my wings and fly. I saw what he had
survived, how he had managed to preserve his mind after all the dark things he
was forced to do, and it gave me strength. If Phoenix can survive what he has
suffered then I can surely survive what I have.

I can surely survive the piece of gutter filth that is my brother.

I will not allow him to take any more from me.

Somewhere along the way I forget my thoughts, feeling nothing but the
music. I end up playing all five parts. Harriet taught me so many pieces over
the years. Sometimes it felt like my only respite was sitting by this very
piano in her house back in Wales and getting lost in songs. I had discovered
there was an old piano at the back of the assembly hall at my school once. I
was overjoyed to have found it but when I sat down to play it didn’t feel quite
the same as Harriet’s baby grand. When I bemoaned this fact to her she told me
that the instrument is inconsequential. That the music is inside of me and if
it really needs to get out it will use a broken old stick against a table top
if that is all there is to hand.

I laughed and told her she was crazy. You can’t play Beethoven with a
stick and a table top. She laughed back and said people had been telling her
she was crazy all her life. She felt like she was the only sane person and they
were all the mad ones. I never told her so, but I had often felt the same way.