“He was so angry he almost had a heart attack. He told my brother to never come back to his house ever again…not until he ‘got his head on straight’. My brother, he tried. He tried as hard as he could to change himself to be more like what my father wanted, but that just made him hate himself more. No one talked about it. Then, a year later, he committed suicide, and only a few days after that, we each got letters in the mail from him. Mine was him telling me how much he loved me, and wanted me to be the best Guinevere in the history of Guineveres, and also to take care of his puppy, Taigi. To my parents, he said that he loved them, even though he knew he disgusted them, and that he hoped they could one day forgive him. My father cried for weeks, and my mom couldn’t even get out of bed.” I hated talking about my past. I had told no one this, not even Sebastian.
“When I go home and hug my father, I always wonder if he regrets what he said to my brother, if he would have preferred to have two daughters instead of one daughter and a dead son. The only reason I’m saying this to you—and I’m sorry for making this evening so depressing—is because hearing Logan felt like I was hearing my brother. The same thing, just this time it’s about music. Is it really the same? No. Yes. I’m not sure. All I know is, we all get one life, and it’s hard enough without the people we love trying to stop us from completing our dreams. Could he go out there and completely fail as a musician? Sure. It happens to millions of people, and I’m sure there will be more than enough people who will tell him he isn’t any good, or that he will never make it. Believe me, I know, because I’ve met all of them.”
Many of them were still waiting for me to fail.
“He just needs his big brother to love him anyway. I get that you love him and want him to be happy, but whether he fails or not, he just needs you to be in his corner.” When I finished, I handed him the present I had wrapped.
Unfolding his arms, he took it, not looking up at me.
“I lied to you and your mother…well, and the world before. When I painted my Whispers of the East, it wasn’t for my grandparents. It was for my brother. I’ve just never told anyone about him, and I didn’t want my parents to be hurt if they ever saw it. The anniversary of his death is Friday, and your mom said your father died a week after that. So, I made a large-scaled one to give to her, and had small copies made and framed for you and Logan.”
Eli
My hands shook as I unwrapped the paper, and when I saw it, I felt like someone was squeezing my heart. The painting was so good it looked like a photo, and she had drawn a picture of Logan and I all grown up alongside my mother and father. We were all laughing at something, and it felt so real, like he had actually lived it along with us.
“Guinevere…” I didn’t even know what to say, so I put the frame down next to the lamp and kissed her. My mind was racing, I felt ten million different things, and the greatest of all was just to be with her…for as long as she would let me.
She shifted onto my lap, and my hands went under her shirt as hers gripped my hair.
“Eli…” She moaned as I kissed down her neck. “I want this with you, but I want you to want it, not just in return for the painting.”
Flipping her onto her back, I stared at her. “I want this for all of that and more, because you make me feel…you make me feel things I can’t describe. If you tell me to stop, I will stop.”
She pulled open my shirt, smiling to herself. “I see all that running does a body good.”
I reached for a condom in my back pocket when she stopped me.
“I’m on the pill,” she replied, and it was music to my ears.
Grinning, I kissed her once more, biting her bottom lip. Returning the favor, I ripped open her shirt, kissing both of her breasts before I trailed my tongue down her stomach, pulling off her jeans and underwear as I went.
“Ahh…” she moaned, reaching up to hold the couch when two of my fingers slid into her. She rocked against me.
“Eli!”
She shivered when I licked her. Her leg on my shoulder, my tongue buried itself in her, tasting, drinking all of her in, my fingers never once stopping.
“Eli…ahh, Eli… I…I—ahh…I can’t,” she said.
Or at least I thought she did, but I wasn’t sure between all of her moaning and her hands pushing on my head, keeping me going.
“Eli!” She came, her body arching up.
Sitting up, I wiped the corner of my mouth, grinning at the sight of her underneath me, her chest rising and falling with each breath.
“Kiss me,” she demanded.
How could I deny her? Her tongue rolled over mine and I moaned, knowing she could taste herself on my tongue.
With a slight push, she was able to get me onto my back, hopping on top of me. When she did, she took off her bra, dropping it on the ground next to me. Sitting up slightly, I grabbed her breasts and took one into my mouth. She gasped when I bit her nipple.
“Eli…I…I want you,” she said, undoing my pants and reaching for me.
I twitched in her warm hand. When she stroked me so slowly, I lost my train of thought.
“Guinevere,” I gasped, letting go of her breast and thrusting into her hand.
“I want you in me.” She kissed my lips quickly and repeated each word.
Holding her waist, my breathing shallow, I almost came when she lowered herself onto me.
“Fuck,” I hissed.
She was so damn tight, all of her clenching around me. With her hands on my chest, she rode me, her hair falling to the side, mouth partly open, moaning my name over and over again as she did.