Page 55 of Quiet Beautiful Things

Soon, my insides coil tightly. I’m no stranger to the feeling. I do have a drawer full of personal devices, after all. But never in my life have I been brought to these heights by a man. I’m on the precipice of explosion and one more push of his fingers has me detonating beneath him.

I buck and squeeze and groan and writhe and swirl and fall and fly. It’s as if heaven and hell erupted. Good and evil collided. And he just keeps touching and rubbing and pressing until every last quiver is done.

I’m languid. Completely spent.

Before I can recover and remember my name, he’s putting the condom on. He hovers over me, asking permission. As if heneeds to. After what he just did to me, I’d give him anything. The thought both excites and terrifies me.

I swallow and nod. Then I observe his face as he pushes into me. His eyes close, his expression one of pure delight and complete pleasure as if the most decadent dessert has been placed on his tongue and he’s savoring every morsel.

He moves slowly inside me until he’s fully in. Then he opens his eyes, locking gazes with me while we make love. If that’s what we’re doing. I’m not sure what to call it when two…friends?... sleep together. It seems too crude a term to call it fucking. It doesn’t feel that way either. It feels like we’re connecting.

I’m taken back to the first day I saw him. When we stood and stared. When I had an out-of-body experience over a man I’d never even talked to.

The way he’s looking at me. Does he feel it too? Or do all men have this look when having sex? I never bothered to look at any of the others.

He bites down on his lip. Hard. Is he coming? No, he’s still moving. His thrusts come more quickly now. I reach behind him and run my hands down his back then settle them on the globes of his ass, encouraging him to go harder, faster. He thrusts and holds it there, his eyes scrunching shut as things come off his lips that I can’t even pretend to understand.

He slumps down on top of me, sweat squishing between us. His breathing is hard and his heartbeat fast. He stays this way for quite some time, the only movement being his thumb brushing the side of my head over and over. Finally, he rolls to the side. It looks like he has trouble rising onto an elbow. But he does it anyway, making sure I have a clear view of his mouth when he says, “Wow.”

Chapter Nineteen

Blake

Holy shit.Maybe it’s that I’ve gone almost five months without sex—an eternity in my book. Perhaps it’s because she’s more beautiful than any woman I’ve even been with. Could be that the build-up and anticipation since the day we laid eyes on each other in the grocery store made it even more intense. But, damn, that had to be the hardest I’ve ever come in my life.

It’s dim in here, but I just know she’s blushing as I stare at her.

Is now the time I tell her I’m falling for her? Hard? Or is after sex not appropriate timing? She did, after all, fall apart beneath me in the best of ways. Maybe watching any woman come spectacularly like that would have me feeling like this.

I decide to wait. With my history, I’m not at all sure I trust myself. And with my reputation, she sure as hell shouldn’t be trusting me. Besides, I get the idea Ellie Stone isn’t easily impressed by words. I’ll have to show her with actions.

She shows no intention of getting up or kicking me out, so I take the opportunity to get to know her better.

“What’s it like being deaf?” I ask.

When she doesn’t answer, I realize the light is now behind me and there’s no way she can read my lips. I fish around the bed for our phones, setting hers on her bare chest before sending a text.

Me: What’s it like being deaf?

She studies me before answering. Then she signs, “Big question.”

Me: Call it research.

She nods and starts typing.

Ellie: How about you try to tell me what it’s like being able to hear. Describe noise to someone who has never heard sound.

As I read her text, the profoundness of it hits me. There’s just no way.

Ellie: You can’t do it, can you? If you can’t describe noise to someone who doesn’t know what sound is, how can you expect me to describe the lack of it? Although it’s probably far easier for you to imagine being deaf than for me to imagine hearing since I have no basis on which to draw my data.

Me: That’s a very clinical observation, doctor. I’ve been wondering about something else lately, ever since Maisy had a bad dream the other night. How do deaf people dream? Is it even possible for her to dream since she knows so little language?

Ellie: Deaf are visual mostly. Her dreams would be in pictures, like a silent movie.

Me: Fascinating. And what about thoughts? Do you think in English or ASL?

Ellie: People who were born deaf most likely think in ASL. The only way to describe it is that I feel myself signing in my head, which I’m told is similar to the ‘inner voice’ of the hearing. Thoughts are images, not sounds.Though I’m aware that some deaf think in written language.Want to hear something funny?

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