Love Not at First Sight by Sarah Ready

12

Sam

“I love you,”I say. And then I drive into Veronica. Everything disappears, the cave, the world, all of it vanishes except the two of us. The only thing that’s real is our hands clasped together and her warmth and wetness wrapped around me.

I push into her, tilt her hips and push in as deep as I can. I hiss out a breath. She’s tight and wet and I’ve never felt anything like her in my life. I want to stay this way forever, holding her to me, settled inside her, but I can’t. I have to move.

I pull out and draw in a ragged breath at the sensation. She tightens around me and clenches as I pull out. Her hands clasp mine and she cries out. Then, I drive into her again. She clamps down on me and her warmth and tightness feel like heaven. I pull out and the world is dark, I drive in and there’s light. Every time I leave her, there’s only darkness and I feel like I might disappear, then when I join with her there’s light and we’re here. Together.

I grab her mouth. Taste her. I let go of one of her hands and reach down. Play with her swollen clit. Feel her pulse around me as I stroke her. She cries out my name.

“Yes,” I say. “That’s it.”

I circle my fingers over her. Then I tilt up her hips and work myself in and out of her. I don’t want this to end. If I could stay this way forever, I would. I never…I never want to live without her.

I cry out at the realization, plunge into her deeper, harder.

“Sam,” she cries.

My name on her lips sends me over the edge. I feel the pressure, the thick building heat, and I drive harder, faster. I’m mindless for her. I only know that I need her, I want her, I love her.

Sparks and stars light behind my eyes.

Her walls clench around me, tighten down on me and I shout out. I’m so thick inside her that I can’t do anything but drive in harder, deeper. Then the mounting pressure, the mindless need to bury myself so deep in her that I’ll never leave, that I’ll make her mine, it takes away all thought, I can only feel. She cries out and I feel her orgasm. I’m wedged so deep in her that I can’t do anything but shout and ride her. I’m trapped, I’m trapped again, but this time, when I can’t breathe and I can’t move, I don’t want to. I want to stay this way forever. With her. She grabs my back, pulls me closer and cries out.

“I love you,” she sobs.

At her words, I can’t hold on any longer. My cum rises up and explodes out of me in a wave of pleasure so intense that my mind goes blank. I can only feel her pulsing and pulling the cum from me as the world ignites. Light blinds me, a supernova, even though it’s pitch black and there is no light, it’s still there. It fills the world and I shout out.

All of it, everything is dragged out of me, pulled from me. And even when the waves stop, I still press into her, rock my hips against her, I don’t want to leave. Don’t want this to end.

I press a kiss to her mouth, rest my forehead against hers.

Eventually, my heartbeat slows, my breathing grows steady. I feel the cold, hard of the stone beneath my knees. The darkness of the tunnel. The chill of the air on my bare skin.

Veronica shifts beneath me and I reluctantly pull out of her.

“Was that okay?” I ask.

She sniffs, and I realize she’s crying. My chest clenches.

“What’s wrong?” Does she regret it? Maybe I shouldn’t have…

“Nothing,” she says. “It’s just…I…I’ve never felt anything like that before.”

I rub my fingers over her cheek, brush her tears away.

“Me either.”

“Really?”

“Never.”

“Thank you,” she says. She reaches up and presses her hand against my jaw. “Thank you for being here.”

She sounds almost sad. Like she thinks we aren’t going to make it out of here. Like that was the last time she’s ever going to experience anything like that. Determination fills me. This isn’t the end.

I grab our clothes and we struggle back into them.

“We’re getting out of here today,” I say. My voice is filled with confidence. I know it. I don’t know how I know it, but I do. We’re getting out of here and then I’m going to make Veronica my wife. Because I can’t imagine a future without her in it.

Veronica lights the watch and we crawl forward. The tunnel opens up and soon we’re both walking upright. The smell of the bat colony grows heavier and I know we’re on the right track.

I grab her hand and we move faster.

My heart is light. We’re going to get out and I’m going to marry this courageous, loving woman. She won’t care who I used to be, what mistakes I made, or what I did to get over my ex. She won’t care about who the world thinks I am. She knows me, sees me. Loves me.

Suddenly, the tunnel ends and we drop down into a large cavern. From what I can see it’s…

“Empty,” says Veronica. “There’s nothing here.” Her voice is filled with shock and confusion. “I thought…”

We thought this was the way out.

It’s dark, musty, full of bat guano and stink.

We walk around the cavern, feeling the edge of the walls, looking for a way out, but there’s nothing. It’s a dead end. We’re still trapped.

I close my eyes and fight away the bitter sinking in my chest.

“It’s okay,” she says. “We can go back…”

She trails off. The knowledge sinks in and makes the air around us heavy. We can’t go back. I’m too big for the tunnel. This time, I might not make it through alive. I was lucky to get through once. I’m stuck here. This is the end for me.

I grab her other hand and pull her to me.

“You can go,” I say, resting my lips against her hair. I love her. I love her so much. I breathe in the scent of her, the warmth of her. I love her too much to keep her here to die with me. “You have to find another way out. Take the last fork that we didn’t go down. Keep looking.”

“No. Stop.” She pushes at me. I pull her back and hold her close.

“Yes. Listen to me. This makes sense. Take the watch. You find a way out. You can get out, send rescuers back. I’ll be fine here. There’s plenty of water to drink. I’ll rest up. I have what…another three to fifteen days before time runs out. You can find the way before then. This is what you’ve been waiting for, isn’t it? The chance to rescue me?”

I kiss her hair.

She lets out a strangled laugh. “I don’t want to rescue you, I want you to live.”

A heaviness settles over me. Giving myself three days was generous, I know it, but I hope she doesn’t. I’ve had a headache for more than a day now, my body is sore and sluggish, I’m becoming clumsy. I no longer feel hunger, just increasing weakness. I thought this was the exit, I’d thought we’d done it. But…no.

“I’ll live,” I tell her. “And so will you.”

She shifts in my arms and lights the watch. I read the display, it’s three in the morning of our fifth day in the caves.

Then, slowly and deliberately Veronica takes off the watch, unlatches the links and puts it back on my wrist. My heart wrenches as she does. She clasps the links and wraps her hands over the metal. Secures the watch in place. That’s her answer. She’s not taking the watch, she’s not leaving me.

I swallow down my fear for her. The brave, stubborn woman.

“I’m not leaving you,” she whispers. “I told you, we’re in this together. I’m not leaving you.”

She presses her hands to my checks and rests her lips to mine.

My shoulders fall. She won’t try to save herself. She’s so stubborn that she’ll stay here with me to die rather than try to find a way out.

I shake my head. “I want you to go,” I tell her. “I need you to keep looking.”

“No. I’m not leaving you. I told you before, I don’t want to die down here alone. I want to be with someone I know and trust. A friend.”

She rests her head against my chest.

I know what she’s envisioning. That she’ll leave me here, and she won’t find her way out, that she’ll die alone at the bottom of a crevice or in a tunnel and I’ll die alone in this stinking cavern. She’s making a choice. I think it’s the wrong one.

“Please don’t,” I say. “I need you to keep going. To get us out of here. I’ll be with you”—I press my hand to her heart—“right here.”

She sniffs and shakes her head then wraps her arms around me. I sink down to the ground and lean against the wall. She curls into me. Her hands wrap around my waist and she lays her head against my heart.

“We’ll sleep for a bit,” I whisper. I kiss her hair and rest my chin against her head. After she has some rest I’ll convince her to leave me. To go, to keep fighting, to live.

I rub my hands over her back, the tension slowly fades from her and then her breathing steadies. She’s asleep. I wrap my arms around her and try to memorize the feeling I have when I hold her. The warmth of her, the softness of her skin, the curve of her back and the flare of her hips. How even though it’s dark, she shines bright for me.

For more than an hour I sit quietly, just holding her.

If she refuses to go, I’m going to have to take matters into my own hands. Years ago, when I was a kid, I went to the Race to the South Pole exhibit at the Natural History Museum. I remember Scott’s party of British explorers were doomed. They were in an endless blizzard with no way out. They were going to die. One of the men had severe frostbite in his feet and he was slowing the party down. He knew he was harming the others’ chances of survival, so he calmly told them he was going out for a walk and that he may be awhile. And then he left, walked into the white, and never returned. He sacrificed himself so the others could move faster. So he didn’t ruin their slim chance of survival. This man walked into the darkness for his friends. As a child, I read the journals with horror and I didn’t quite understand why he did it, but now I do. I understand. If Veronica refuses to leave, I’ll have to do what that man did. Find a way to walk into the darkness, die so that she can survive. Make it to the light.

I shift her weight in my arms and pull her close.

“I love you,” I whisper.

There’s a sound above me. A squeaking and the humming of wings. I look up, then blink, because I think I see something. Which can’t be right, because we’re in a pitch black cave. But…I see movement and…

I shake Veronica. She wakes up with a start.

“What? What is it?” she asks sleepily.

“Look,” I say.

I point toward the sound of the bats returning to roost. There must be hundreds of them. Thousands. They’re flying into the cave from a hole in the ceiling. And we can see it. We can see it because it’s five in the morning and there’s the thin, gray light of dawn filtering down into the cavern.

It’s dark, but I can see her. I can see Veronica.

We’re going to live.