Stay With Me...

Chapter 18- We'll Always Have Iceland

Bags, check. Guns, check. Back up guns, check. Knives, check. They had everything that they could think of. The car was loaded. The plane was waiting. By John's calculations they would be landing in Mexico within in the next eight hours. Then they would have to use a boat to finish off their journey, which would take an indefinite amount of time. Which was a lot of time to spend in such a small space with someone who was barely speaking to him.

Emmaline had promised that she was not mad, and he had done the same. But since they had come from the lake, there was undeniable distance between them. Things were not as tense as they were awkward. To him, it felt like they were waiting for the inevitable. For the moment when they finally accomplished what they were working towards and they both realized that they no longer had any place in each other's lives. He was dreading it, the goodbyes, the readjusting to living without her, sleeping alone, to living a life that did not include Emmaline.

Standing in front of the bed, John adjusted his tie, picked up his last bag and started the short journey downstairs. In the living room, Emmaline was standing near the widow talking on the phone. She was finalizing their use of the boat. John watched her, her face serious and free hand stuffed in the pocket of her pinstriped pants. He waited until she hung up the phone and placed it in her handbag. "All set?"

"All set," Emmaline confirmed with a tight smile. Lately, that was the only kind of smile he got from her. "Shall we?" She gestured at the door and collected her bag and coat. They got out of the house, greeted by the fresh morning air. Emmaline locked the house, activating the security system while John got into the driver's seat and got the car running.

John drove them to the airport, Emmaline had tried to make small talk, but the drive was filled with mostly silence. Tense, uncomfortable, heavy silence. Three hours later, they were boarding the aircraft, awkwardly going their separate ways when the plane took off. From his seat that the widow, John watched as the small European island shrunk as the distance grew. He hated that they were leaving Iceland just as they had arrived, with aching distance between them.

***

After a seven-hour plane ride and an hour driving through Mexico, Emmaline and John were finally boarding the sleek white boat at nightfall. "You didn't say it was a yacht." John dumped his bags next to Emmaline's in small living room that doubled as a kitchenette.

"I didn't know. I just know that every time I see Eliza, she goes on and about how her husband has a boat and blah blah blah." She peeled off the black jacket she was wearing, left in her pants and a white chiffon blouse that showed off her cleavage. Bending over, she unbuckled the straps of her shoes and kicked them off. "Well I'm beat. And seeing as the captain already knows our coordinates, I'm heading to bed. Meet you there?" Her tone revealed nothing, but her eyes were hopeful. 

At least they were still sharing a bed. "Yeah. Be there in a few."

When John got into the small bedroom cabin, Emmaline was already under the covers, fast asleep. He showered and got into a t-shirt and pajama pants and got in next to her. He watched her sleep for a while and eventually fell asleep himself.

***

Hours later, it was still dark and too early to be awake. The clock next him read 2:38am. Way to early to be awake. The spot next to him was empty and cold, suggesting that Emmaline had been gone for a while. "Em?" John called, "Em!" There was no response.

A little annoyed, John swung his legs out of bed. He proceeded to check every room he could think of, still there was no sign of her. Then he noticed the door leading to outside cracked open. Quietly, he opened the door and was immediately blasted by cold sea air. At first, he did not see her, then a figure sitting on the silver railing caught his attention. Emmaline. She did not seem to notice him staring at her. She was leaned forward, holding onto the railing, one leg still on the boat the other hovering over the water, only wearing a white cable knit sweater and shorts. "Are you going to keep staring or are you going to say something?" So she did know he was there.

"That's a pretty risky move for someone who can't swim." John approached her, placing his hand on the small of her back. "What are you doing out here?"

She turned to him, leaning against his chest, "Couldn't sleep. You?"

"I was looking for you. Why couldn't you sleep?" John helped her pull her leg over the railing so now he was standing between her thighs. His hands rubbed up and down her smooth bare skin, warming it up.

"Cause I missed this." Blatant honesty was different for her, it was refreshing. "I missed you." Emmaline closed her eyes pressing her head to his chest.

John kissed her head and pulled her closer, "Me too." Emmaline wrapped her arms around his waist and John did the same.

"Do you think we could just forget that whole thing for now. Just live for now and pretend that nothing is ever going to change between us?" Her voice was soft but eager, pleading even.

"I'd like that." John's hands slid beneath Emmaline and lifted her off the railing, her legs wrapping around him, "Now why don't we go back to bed?" Emmaline kissed him, her hands tangling in his hair and their lips moving together. It had only been a few hours more than a day, but she missed how he tasted.

They returned to their room with John only putting Emmaline down when they were in bed. She laid beneath him and he hovered over her with his hands on either side of her head. One of his large, calloused hands slid down her body and slid under her sweater as he littered kisses on her face down to her neck. Emmaline clawed at John's t-shirt until it was off and discarded at the corner of the room. He helped her out of her sweater pausing to admire her naked breasts below him.

Eventually, John had edged Emmaline's shorts to her ankles and had started rubbing her sex through her panties. Her arms flew around his neck and she arched her back upwards. "John....More..." Emmaline moaned into his ear, begging. The heat of his breath on her chest as he kissed and sucked her breasts; maddening her. She jerked her hand upward to grab a fistful of his hair while the other glided lower to cup him though his cotton sleep pants. "John..." She whined again, desperate for more than his fingers.

"Patience baby," This was the first time he had ever called her that. John himself was losing patience, he wanted her, now. But who knew when they would get to their destination? If this was the last time that they were ever together like this, he wanted to last as long as possible. He was almost lying on top of her now, close enough for their foreheads to touch, the only thing keeping him from putting his full weight on her was one of him arms pressed into the mattress. Emmaline's legs were spread, and she ground against his fingers as she worked him with her hand down his pants. The noises she was making, the way she mewled his name, begging for him, it was the ultimate high. "What do you want?" His voice low and oddly horse.

At first it was hard to understand her above her moans and incoherent pleas, "You," Was all she managed. John pushed the thin cotton of her soaked underwear aside and inserted two of his fingers, pumping slowly.

"Who? Say it. Say who you want Em," He needed to hear it, hear her say his name, beg for him and only him.

"You." She gasped as he pumped his fingers faster, "Fuck! I need you John!" Her eyes were closed and her mouth open. The nails of her free hand clawed into his back. Without wasting another minute, John tore her panties with his fingers and made short work of his pesky pants and slid into her fully, listening to her whimper in pleasure. He rolled his hips, his fingers digging into her side. He moved in quick deep thrusts as she dug into his shoulder blades, begging him to go faster.

After holding out for as long as they both could, John's thrusts became sloppy and he could feel Emmaline tightening around him. Like the gentleman he was, he let her come first, his name a loud chant spilling from her mouth. John came immediately after, warmth flooding her.

Breathless, he collapsed on top of her, rolling them so she would be laying on him.

They laid like this until they fell asleep, too spent to even get up and clean themselves up. Until then John absentmindedly ran his fingers through her hair while she traced patterns on his skin. There was so much they could have said, but right then, silence was enough.