“Does this mean you’re officially on vacation?” I asked, only willing to stop nibbling my way across her jawline if she shoved me away. Having her in my arms again was everything I remembered it to be and even if she couldn’t, her body seemed to remember me just fine. Those two weeks without her felt like years and I was tempted to go looking for biscuit crumbs, like she was a life size Cracker Jack box and that was the prize.
Or maybe she would let me lick her other box and we could share that prize instead?
Instead of pushing me away, she leaned into my lips, replying, “How about we say I’m unofficially on vacation. I can’t think straight right now.”
That was okay. I was thinking straight enough for the both of us.
Eric Junior’s thoughts – in particular – had him very straight at the moment.
I didn’t know why I hadn’t tried this sooner. Even when Sookie and I were at our most argumentative, there was always an underlying sexual tension. We never went from hot to cold.
We went from heated to scalding.
Fighting or making up it was always explosive between us, so now that we weren’t fighting and yet still – in a way – making up, the fuse she’d lit in my pants was well on its way to detonating my cannon. Her hands were gripping my shirt forcefully enough I was sure the buttons were about to go flying and I was cocky enough to surmise once she saw my naked chest, victory would be mine. Which was why I was all the more confused when she suddenly flew to the opposite side of the couch.
Oh yeah. Now I knew why I hadn’t tried this.
It was because I wasn’t supposed to be molesting her on what amounted to a first date.
Never mind the majority of my ‘dates’ were ‘first dates’ and that was exactly how they started. Sookie wasn’t anything like them which was maybe why I’d drunkenly married her, but it was also why I’d soberly stayed married to her. No matter how much I may have wanted that movie role at the time, I couldn’t have kept up the charade if I couldn’t stand her. Now I couldn’t stand to be apart from her.
So I thought I’d clue her in to that fact by whining, “When I said you should be on vacation, I didn’t mean away from me.”
Yes. Whined. Just like the giant pussy Pam had declared me to be on more than on occasion in the last six weeks.
And I wouldn’t apologize for it. Whining was a valid response.
For a giant pussy.
“You’ll have to forgive me my vacation faux pas,” she giggled, while fanning her face. “I’ve never been on a real one and I need to cool off.”
Suggesting I spray down her insides with my cum felt like a woo-hole move, so I pulled a woo-ninja move on her instead and suggested, “Well then why don’t we go for a swim?”
In my mind, the war had not been lost and I would not concede defeat. I’d consider it a victory if she’d just agree to sleep with me and all we did was sleep.
The thought of not being next to her all night long wasn’t appealing in any way.
“Last one into the pool has to do the dishes!” she called out already on her way up the stairs as fast as her much shorter legs could carry her.
She only won the race because my kickstand got in the way.
Sookie was already floating in the middle of the pool with her eyes closed and a shit eating grin on her face by the time I got outside. She’d even managed to have the time to carry out paper plates and the ingredients to make s’mores and left them on the patio table, but she must have heard my approach because she taunted, “You might want to let those dishes soak for a while or else they’ll be a bitch to clean.”
My eyes were busy taking in the sight of her body in a bikini – it was the same one I’d taken off of her when I’d first learned she had no gag reflex after she’d learned we had no condoms – and my hands were itching to do it again.
And my memories of that night also included muscle memory because one of my muscles was itching in an entirely different way.
Since my cannon was still locked and loaded, I figured I should at least make a half-hearted attempt to drown the fuse and now that she was showing me glimpses of the old Sookie, I thought it only fair to show her a glimpse of the old me.
The asshole me.
I cannonballed into the water beside her, which had the dual effect of cooling her off by soaking her too. I could hear her shouted rebuke of, “Eric!” while under the water and I might’ve panicked if I hadn’t already known she could swim like a fish. But I ignored it and swam to the shallower end where I could stand and give her yet another glimpse of me.
The shallow part of me with my wet chest on full display.
In my mind, it was just one more way to get her soaked.
She was still trying to pull the wet strands of hair from her face while she growled, “You’re such a…” when she got one eye open to look at me.
And that one eye went from glare to flare in a split second.
I may have flexed my muscles a bit, hoping the movement alone would pull her towards me with the invisible tether that seemed to connect us from the start. And if she dunked underneath the water, she’d figure out something of mine had flared up as well once she got a look at my long range periscope. The pool water or iced tea – it made no difference whenever she was near me.
Eric Junior would be looking for her.
“I’m such a…” I asked, after a full minute had passed and she hadn’t said anything else.
She was too busy checking me out.
We were very alike in that moment.
“Doody head,” she finally huffed.
She really had changed to be using that kind of language with me, almost like I was a complete stranger and she was on her best behavior. I didn’t care for that at all, so I laughed and swam towards her saying, “Oh come on Sookie. Emmy can’t hear you yet. You can say shithead.”
It was probably one of the nicer things she’d called me after we’d woken up together in Vegas, but thinking about it made me wonder if she’d want to homeschool Emmy. With the F-bombs that flew out of our mouths on a regular basis, it would certainly cut down on future trips to the principal’s office if our kid turned out to be a chip off of the old block.
Or – in this case – a turd off of the old shithead.
The closer I swam to her, the further she swam backwards, until I finally had her trapped between my arms against the far side of the pool.
“Caught you,” I whispered, before my mouth automatically dove forward to press my lips against the northern G-spot located just underneath her ear.
Even without my prior knowledge of its location, my compass was pointing due north and would’ve given it away.
“I…I didn’t realize I was running away,” she panted.
She never seemed to think she was running away, but then I was good at assuming she was running when she wasn’t, so I offered, “Well then I didn’t realize there was a rip current in the pool.”
She shuddered when my rudder rubbed up against her port of entry and I couldn’t stop myself from reminding her, “You’ve worn this bikini before. You tortured me with it right here in the backyard.” I softly bit her neck and licked away the mark, adding, “Right before I took it off of you and we tortured each other with our mouths. Right. Here. In. The. Backyard.”
Her body was giving me all of the signals she was onboard, but before I could get her to sign up for a three hour cruise riding my cruise missile, she ducked underneath my outstretched arm and pulled herself out of the pool, asking, “Do you want s’mores? I want s’mores.”
Yes I wanted s’more, but it had nothing to do with chocolate bars and graham crackers.
Where in the hell did that come from?
“Pregnancy craving?” I asked, pulling myself up onto the ledge and following after her. The invisible tether was still there, but now it seemed like Sookie was the one who held the strings.
Maybe she always had.
She’d skittered away as fast as she could and wrapped a towel around her body, hiding more than just her skin from me when she wouldn’t meet my eyes. I suddenly felt like a dick for pushing my dick at her, so I said, “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable. It’s just that bikini in particular brings back very fond memories for me.”
For me and Eric Junior.
“No, it’s fine,” she said, while busying herself opening the bag of marshmallows.
Her hands were shaking, so I pulled the bag from her fingertips and gently pushed her down into one of the chairs. Taking the one beside her, I leaned towards her, but kept my hands to myself while I asked, “What is it? Do you feel okay?”
The doctor had said – other than the amnesia – she was completely healthy, but now I was getting worried.
Worried enough I’d even call McDickface for a house call if I had to.
She still wouldn’t look at me, so I reached out and pushed some of the hair away from her face, hoping that would do the trick. It turned out to be the wrong thing to do because she pulled away from me instead and began frantically pulling her fingers through the wet strands. Her actions also seemed to pull whatever was bothering her from her thoughts and out through her lips because she rambled out, “I just don’t get it. I mean you’re you and I’m me and you could have any woman you wanted and I’m just a pregnant unemployed hick and you’re the sexiest man alive five times and I couldn’t even keep my ex from dipping his stick into any oil pan he ran into and you’re modeling fuck me suits on Sunset Boulevard and I wear wash-and-wear from Walmart and you’re on TV and waltz down red carpets and I don’t even own a TV and the only red carpet I waltz across is the one in the hallway in Amelia’s apartment and I look like a drowned rat right now but you look like you just stepped out of the pages of a magazine looking like the poster boy for what wet dreams are made of and even if we did do the do and now I’m having your diddy, I don’t want you to stay with me just because of it and once diddy is done I’ll be…and you’ll be…and…”
I was surprised she hadn’t passed out from the lack of oxygen after her nearly hyperventilated confession or that she hadn’t choked on the bullshit that spewed from her insecurities. I wanted to blame that fucker Quinn, but I knew the majority of it stemmed from my own well-documented history and the fact she only knew me from the press. Her brain was still stuck on the Eric Northman who was still stuck on her bedroom walls back in Bon Temps. She didn’t know the real me well enough yet to know that wasn’t the real me at all. She didn’t know about my own insecurities flaring only a couple of hours earlier just cutting a fucking flower from the garden or how much better she’d made me feel when I’d first told her about it. She didn’t know how special she’d already proven she was by making a childhood dream of mine come true and it wasn’t flying in a fighter jet that made it so special.
It was the fact she’d actually listened to what I’d had to say.
Or maybe it was more the fact she was special enough to me that I actually shared my past with her.
But I was more than willing to give her the time to learn who the real me was all over again. So while she’d been rambling for a good five minutes and pulling enough hair out of her own head she could make a nice sized pillow with it, I thought I’d give her yet another glimpse of me.
The real me.
I’d been busy crafting my response and it had the desired effect when she couldn’t stop the snort she made when she finally looked at me.
“See?’ she snorted again. “I’m not classy enough to be the wife of a celebrity. I snort.”
“Your snorts are cute,” I offered, as much as I could.
It was difficult to talk around the two giant marshmallows I’d stuck onto my upper teeth, but she couldn’t decide if she should stare at those or the paper plates I’d cut slits into and slid over my ears like giant satellite dishes.
It was hard to tell what she was looking at anyway with my eyes crossed.
“You’re cute,” she whispered and leaned forward, sucking one of the marshmallows from my mouth and into hers. ‘Cute’ was definitely a step up from ‘Doody head’ and my eyes uncrossed to watch her chew and swallow before she leaned forward and repeated the action to take the other one, adding, “And sweet.”
“That could be the marshmallows,” I replied, salivating just watching her mouth move because it wasn’t so far off the mark of how it looked when her lips were wrapped around other parts of me. “I’m not normally sweet.”
An epic understatement.
An epic pussy? Absolutely.
But sweet? No.
“Yes you are,” she protested and added, “Taste for yourself.”
Her lips hesitantly met mine and her tongue shyly darted into my mouth, so I could taste the sugary treat left behind. I swallowed her next snort when her hands pulled away the makeshift paper satellites from my ears, forcing her back into the moment with my mouth, while she forced her fingers through my wet hair. As much as I wanted to pull her into my lap and give her a detailed replay of the last time we’d had s’mores out on the patio, I knew it would be pushing my luck. Her body may have been ready, but her mind wasn’t.
So my body and mind would have to wait.
“See?” she panted with a smile when I forced myself to pull away. “You’re sweet.”
“Only because of you.”
Another epic understatement.
But remembering everything else she’d said, I took her hands in my own and said, “I know you have no reason to believe me Sookie, but I meant what I said to you in the hospital. I meant what I said to you earlier on the couch. And I’ll keep telling you until I’m as blue in the face as I’m blue in the balls. I. Love. You. Diddy or no diddy, I would still be here doing whatever I could to make you feel the same way. I get that it’s hard for you. You don’t know me like I know you, but I want to show you who I am. I want to stay married to you for no other reason than because I love you and I can’t imagine a future without you in it.”
For two long weeks I did everything I could to not imagine my future without her in it and now that I had her back – mostly – I wasn’t going to give up.
From the very start Sookie had a hold on me. I didn’t understand what it was at first. I didn’t want to admit it existed in the days that followed. And even now when I couldn’t explain it or give it a name, I couldn’t let go of it. I now knew what love felt like thanks to her and that wasn’t it. It was more than love and calling it fate or destiny was too fucking hokey for my brain to wrap around, but it didn’t matter. I didn’t care what it was called. I just knew I didn’t want to go back to living my life without her in it.
And now there was another life I wanted to be a part of mine just as much.
Had someone told me six weeks earlier that I’d be returning from Vegas with my new wife in tow and what she would end up meaning to me, I would’ve laughed in their face and suggested a stay in my former rehab center. If someone had told me the morning we woke up together, tattooed and cum covered, that we’d made a baby the night before I would’ve thrown a bucket of cash at her and run for the hills.
Now there was no other place I wanted to be or anyone else I would want to be there with.
I wouldn’t change a thing.
Even Sookie having amnesia and not remembering a damn thing was acceptable if that was the only way I could have her back. But then I still had every other memory of our time together – with the exception of that night in Vegas – so I thought it only fair to share those memories with her.
She still hadn’t said anything, so I offered with a smile, “You know, when I first woke up in the hotel room the morning after, you were standing there in nothing but a bed sheet, glaring at me. I had a hangover to end all hangovers and you’d spotted the tattoos on our hands before I did. I didn’t know it yet and was a complete asshole, but as soon as I saw you I tried to turn on the charm to coax you back into bed.”
Her eyes got as big as saucers and her face flushed red when she asked, “And did it…uh…work?”
“No,” I laughed. “You shot me down and I crashed and burned.”
Reaching out, I took her left hand in mine. They’d removed her wedding ring while she was in the hospital and she hadn’t put it back on, so I ran my finger over her tattoo and said, “You’re quite the spitfire, Mrs. Northman. You took every ounce of shit I threw at you and chucked it right back at me. It was refreshing.”
Everything about her was refreshing.
“What were we fighting about?”
“What didn’t we fight about?” I laughed again. “The lack of finding any evidence condoms were used was one. You declared all of the women I’d been pictured with over the years to be skanks, so you were concerned about getting an STD from me. And because I’m such a prince, I pointed out the fact that we didn’t know each other and yet you were wearing nothing but a sheet and my cum, so who was the skank?”
“Asshole!” she gasped and tried to take her hand back, but I refused to let go.
“Yep,” I chuckled. “That was your very first pet name for me, but you slapped me too. These hands of yours should be marked with a registration number so the air traffic control towers can identify them when they fly through the air. They take to the skies often.”
“I slapped you?” she asked, looking both mortified and proud at the same time.
“And my father too,” I nodded.
“I slapped your father?” she gasped again.
I shrugged and said, “He deserved it.”
A part of me was still bothered by his reaction to Sookie’s accident. I couldn’t figure out what his endgame was, but I hadn’t spent much time thinking about it either. He’d show his hand eventually.
Sookie buried her face in her hands and mumbled, “You must’ve wanted that movie role pretty bad to have stayed married to me, but I can’t imagine I would’ve wanted my job enough to agree to stay married to someone who insinuated I was a skank.”
What started off as a little lighthearted trip down missing memory lane now had the potential to end very badly, so I pulled her hand back into mine and explained, “I did want that role and at the time I told myself that was all it was, but the truth I didn’t want to admit was that you had me hooked in under ten minutes. When we found out we were married I both despised you and was drawn to you. Even when you did nothing but glare at me, I couldn’t get enough of looking at you. You were so guarded and angry, but then you’d let the mask fall and I’d see other sides of you. Sweet and innocent and above all, genuine. All I wanted was to figure you out. No one ever affected me the way you did. I kept waiting for me to get tired of you. Of being in your constant presence, but you had the opposite effect. I couldn’t get enough of you. I couldn’t stand being in a separate room from you. When you flew to Louisiana after Gran’s heart attack, you took a huge part of me with you. I couldn’t function. I couldn’t sleep. As soon as I found out I was free from work I headed straight to you and it felt like I hadn’t taken another breath until I finally laid eyes on you. Why you stayed married to me? I can’t say for sure. I would like to think you felt the same way, but we were both good at keeping that to ourselves back then. We fought a lot, but I think we were mostly fighting what we felt for each other. Quinn did a number on you. And me? Well…I think my skank-filled past speaks for itself. But now that I know what it is I feel for you, I wouldn’t change a thing because it led me to here and now. You’re it for me Sookie. I know that like I know my own name. And if you never feel the same way for me again and ultimately decide to leave, I will never stop hoping you come back to me.”
Of course I left out the fact I would probably stalk her every move. And with the way the paparazzi stalked my every move, it wouldn’t take her long to figure out what I’d been up to.
She’d learn about that with one trip to the grocery store checkout line.
“Is that what that is?” she asked, putting her hand over my heart.
Feeling any part of her on my bare skin made other parts of me sit up and take notice – literally – wanting to feel her on them too. But I gave Eric Junior a stern lecture that now wasn’t the fucking time for fucking and asked aloud, “Is that what, what is?”
I felt like we were Abbott and Costello playing, ‘Who’s on first?’
My whole body shivered when her fingertip ghosted over my nipple and she snatched her hand back, while I kept my own from returning the gesture, as she explained, “I feel something. I can’t explain it and it doesn’t make any sense. I don’t know you any more than I knew you from Tiger Beat magazines when I was ten. But I feel like I know you. I feel comfortable around you. Too comfortable for you to be a complete stranger. It scares me.”
It would scare me too if I were in her shoes, especially since I wouldn’t have had the added benefit of knowing her in an abstract way from TV. I could only imagine how long and how hard I would’ve fought those feelings, so I couldn’t blame her for fighting them now.
But she was worth fighting for, so I would fight too.
“You don’t have to be scared, Sookie. I would never do anything to hurt you and we’ll go as slow as you want. I’ll do whatever you need me to do to put your mind at ease. I just need you to give me the chance. To take a chance on us.”
She’d come home with me from the hospital without any complaint, but I knew that mostly stemmed from her not knowing what else to do. She’d been told by all of us what her recent life had been and she’d just gone with the flow, but a part of me had worried she would finally say ‘enough’ and go back to Amelia’s. I didn’t want to overwhelm her, but I didn’t want to let her go either. I’d beg her to stay if I had to. If anything, her being in a coma for two weeks was lesson enough for me to know I’d do anything to keep her with me.
There was no limit. No extreme I wouldn’t go to. No line in the sand.
I’d kicked my pussy feet in my metaphorical litter box and buried my pride back in her hospital room where she was concerned.
So it was no surprise when my exhaled sigh of relief sounded more like a contented purr rumbling through my chest as her eyes met mine and she softly whispered out, “Okay.”
That one word was all I needed to believe everything really was going to be okay.