12. Tom

Chapter 12

Tom

T he rain hammered down, drowning the night in a steady rhythm. Ally sat beside me in my '67 Chevy Impala, soaked to the bone. Her auburn hair clung to her cheeks, droplets tracing paths down her pale skin.

"You know," she said, her voice barely audible over the rain, "I don't… I don't do this. I don't go home with guys. I just…" She let her voice trail off, eyes cast downward.

"You don't have to justify this, sweetheart," I replied, resting a hand on her denim-clad thigh. The warmth of my palm seeped through the fabric, grounding both of us in the moment. "Just relax. We're going to have fun."

"Fun," she murmured, almost as if testing the word on her tongue. Her blue eyes searched mine, filled with a mixture of curiosity and hesitation. "Do you mind… would it be okay if I got to know you?"

"We spent the entire night talking," I pointed out, a smile tugging at my lips. The irony amused me—hours of conversation, and yet here we were.

"Yes," she said softly, "but I don't know things about you. Important things."

"Like what?" My smile widened as I leaned back in my seat, giving her my full attention while also driving back to my place.

"Like… what's your favorite color?" she asked.

I chuckled softly, finding the simplicity of her question endearing. It felt like an innocent peek behind the walls I'd built so carefully.

"Blue," I answered after a moment. "The color of the sky right before dusk." I paused. "Like the color of your eyes."

She nodded thoughtfully, her fingers absently tracing circles on her thigh where my hand had rested moments before. The intimacy of the question surprised me—it wasn't something people usually asked in moments like this.

"And yours?" I prompted.

"Green," she said without hesitation. "Like the forests back home."

I nodded, glancing at her from the corner of my eye as I navigated through the rain-slicked streets. Her curiosity seemed to put her at ease, and I was willing to play along.

"What's your favorite book?" she asked, her voice soft but insistent.

I thought for a moment. "Probably The Old Man and the Sea . There's something about the struggle, the persistence. It resonates with me."

"Do you have a favorite movie?" she continued, her eyes lighting up with genuine interest.

"Field of Dreams," I replied without missing a beat. "It's about baseball, sure, but it's really about redemption and reconnecting with the past."

She smiled at that, nodding as if she understood completely. "What about music? Do you have a favorite band or artist?"

I hesitated, not because I didn't have an answer, but because sharing these little pieces of myself felt strangely intimate. "Bruce Springsteen," I finally said. "There's something raw and real about his music."

Ally looked thoughtful for a moment before asking, "Do you have any hobbies?"

I chuckled softly. "Hobbies? I used to play guitar, but it’s been years since I picked it up. That, and hockey. But…"

"But?" She raised her brows.

"A knee injury took me out of the game," I said. "That, and…" Well, she wanted answers. "The girl I was seeing at the time found out she was pregnant."

Her eyes widened in surprise. "You play guitar? That's… unexpected."

That was her focus? Not my kid, but guitar?

"Yeah," I admitted with a shrug. "Picked it up in high school to impress girls, but it turned into something more."

She laughed at that, a light, musical sound that cut through the tension in the car. It was contagious; I found myself smiling despite everything.

"What's your favorite place you've ever visited?" she asked next.

"Banff," I replied immediately. "There's nothing like those mountains—majestic and humbling all at once."

Her questions came one after another, each one peeling back another layer of my guarded exterior.

"Do you believe in fate?" she asked suddenly, catching me off guard.

I considered my answer carefully. "I think... we make our own fate. Life throws us curveballs, but it's how we handle them that defines us."

She nodded slowly, absorbing my words. There was a silence that settled between us then—comfortable yet charged with unspoken emotions.

"Why did you come over to me last night?" Her voice was barely above a whisper now.

I glanced at her again, seeing the vulnerability in her eyes. "I… I couldn't help myself," I murmured. "I don't think I had any say in the matter." I glanced back at the windshield. "Maybe it was fate."

Ally's silence stretched out, the only sound in the car the relentless drumming of the rain on the roof. I glanced over at her, searching her face for any hint of what she might be thinking.

"So… you don't care I have a kid?" I asked. "Or that I'm much, much older than you?"

"Were you married?" she asked, not missing a beat.

"Fuck no."

"Tell me how you really feel," she quipped, a hint of amusement flickering in her eyes.

I sighed, my grip tightening on the steering wheel. "Marriage isn't my thing," I admitted. "Never has been. It's just... I don’t see the point in binding myself legally to someone when things can change so quickly. People change. That's a goddamn fact, whether we like it or not."

"So, you'd never get married at all?" Ally pushed, her curiosity unyielding.

"Doubtful," I said flatly. "She'd have to be some kind of special for me to even consider it."

"What about kids?" she asked, her voice softer now. "Would you ever have more kids?"

"No," I said immediately, feeling a pang of something—regret? Resentment?—tighten in my chest. My hands gripped the wheel harder. "I have one."

"That's all you need?" Ally guessed.

"It's not even that," I admitted, feeling a rare wave of vulnerability wash over me. "More like… I picked the wrong person to have my kid with. And now, I'm paying for it. I've been paying for it. Like… no one really thinks about consequences, you know? I have to deal with her for the rest of my life because of my kid."

"Hmm," Ally murmured thoughtfully.

The weight of our conversation hung between us as we drove through the rain-soaked streets. Her questions had dug up emotions and thoughts I'd long buried, and for once, I didn't mind sharing them.

"How long were you with her?" Ally asked, her voice barely above a whisper. "The mother of your child."

I blew out a breath, frustration bubbling up inside me. "Fuck, Ally, these questions..."

"You don't have to answer if you don't want," she said quickly, dropping her gaze to her lap.

Something tugged at my chest. The crazy thing was, I wanted to answer. I sighed and made a left turn; the streetlights casting fleeting shadows across her face.

"I was with her for three years," I said finally. "I tried to make it work for three years. But… I couldn't."

"I'm sorry," she murmured. "What was the final straw?"

I breathed out heavily; the memory weighing me down. "She got pregnant," I said, my voice cracking slightly. "Again." My chest hurt, the pain of the past seeping into the present. "I've never told anyone this," I admitted, glancing at her briefly before returning my focus to the road. "We both decided we didn't want another kid... To this day, I don't know if she did it on purpose. We were fighting a lot. I almost left her a couple of times. And she might have thought this would trap me like it did with my son."

Ally remained silent, her eyes locked on me as I continued.

"But a few weeks later, she miscarried," I said, my voice growing softer. "Her grief… that's a real thing I wouldn't wish on anyone. But after that, she got worse. She sunk her claws into my son and I knew I had to leave because I didn't trust her and I never loved her." The words spilled out, raw and unfiltered. "And I just… I didn't want to go through that again. A pregnancy. Even the miscarriage." My throat tightened as the memories resurfaced. "I don't know how I feel about it. I don't know if I'm allowed to feel anything about it. It didn't happen to me."

"Sure, it did," Ally said softly, her voice carrying an unexpected strength. "Maybe not physically, but regardless of your relationship with her, that was still your child. You're allowed to mourn that."

"I… I felt relieved," I admitted after a moment's pause. "I would have stepped up. I would have taken care of the child, but…" My voice trailed off into the quiet hum of the car engine.

The silence that followed felt different—less burdened by unspoken words and more like an understanding that settled between us.

"You're not a bad person for feeling that way," Ally said softly, taking my hand in hers.

"I think at my age, I can't do another diaper," I replied, though my heart wasn't in it.

"Do you think you're scared?" she asked. "Getting someone else pregnant, maybe?"

"If I were, I sure as shit wouldn't be taking you home," I pointed out.

She rolled her eyes. "You know what I mean," she said.

"I don't know," I admitted. "Quite frankly, I don't want to find out. I thought I was a monster. For feeling relieved after she lost the baby. For leaving her after that. I don't think I could handle that again."

Ally nodded just as we pulled up to my townhouse.

The place was modest but comfortable, a two-story brick structure with ivy crawling up the sides like nature's embrace trying to soften its edges. The windows glowed warmly against the rain-drenched night, and a small porch light flickered intermittently, casting erratic shadows on the wet pavement.

"You can use my jacket if you ? —"

But Ally was already out the door, getting soaked again.

I couldn't help but grin at the sight of her as I stepped out of the car. She stood there, rain pouring down around her, and yet she seemed almost ethereal in the dim light—drenched but defiant, vulnerable yet resilient. Her long auburn hair stuck to her face, her clothes clinging to her petite frame.

I walked around the car and joined her on the porch. My jacket hung uselessly in my hand as she shook off some of the water from her hair and gave me a sheepish smile.

"Guess I'm not made of sugar," she said with a chuckle.

"Nope," I agreed, unlocking the door and pushing it open for her to step inside. "Come on in."

The interior of the townhouse was simple and functional—dark wooden floors, a few pieces of well-worn furniture, and walls adorned with framed photos of my coaching days and some old black-and-white hockey shots. It wasn't much, but it was home.

Ally looked around appreciatively as she shrugged off her wet coat and hung it on a hook near the door.

"Nice place," she remarked.

"Thanks," I replied, kicking off my shoes and motioning for her to do the same. "Make yourself comfortable."

Before she could react, I lunged forward, my hands finding her hips and pressing her against the wall. Our lips collided with a ferocity that startled even me. Her breath hitched, but she responded in kind, her hands tangling in my hair, pulling me closer.

The kiss was electric. My lips moved against hers with a hunger I hadn't felt in years. Her mouth tasted faintly of rain and something sweet, and I couldn't get enough. Our tongues danced, exploring and teasing, igniting a fire that spread through my veins.

I could feel her heartbeat quicken under my touch, matching the frantic pace of my own. My hands roamed over her soaked clothes, feeling the curves of her body beneath the fabric. She moaned softly into my mouth; the sound sending a jolt of desire straight to my core.

Without breaking the kiss, I trailed my lips down to her jawline and then to her neck. Her skin was warm and inviting, and I couldn't resist the urge to taste it. I sucked gently at first, then harder, leaving a mark—a claim—on her delicate skin. She gasped and arched into me; her nails digging into my shoulders.

When I pulled back to admire my handiwork, a primal sense of possession flared within me. The mark on her neck stood out against her pale skin—a reminder of our connection tonight. A surge of raw desire coursed through me; I wanted to leave more marks, to make sure she wouldn't forget this night.

I met her eyes, dark with lust and something deeper. "You're mine tonight," I growled against her ear before capturing her lips again with renewed intensity.

Her response was immediate and fervent; she wrapped a leg around mine, pulling me even closer as our kiss deepened once more. The heat between us was undeniable—burning away any remnants of hesitation or doubt.

I picked her up as she started tugging at my shirt, her fingers insistent and needy. Her lips never left mine as I carried her up the stairs, our bodies pressing together with each step. We left a trail of discarded clothing behind us—shoes, socks, my jacket—each piece marking our path.

“Fuck, if this wasn’t our first time,” I murmured against her lips, my voice husky with desire, “I’d fuck you against this wall.”

“First?” She opened her eyes, a small smile playing on her lips. “How many times do you intend to fuck me, old man?”

I growled, the sound primal and raw. “As many times as it takes,” I replied before dropping her onto the bed.

“So romantic,” she murmured, her voice dripping with sarcasm as she helped me tug off her wet pants.

I grunted in response, my eyes roaming over her body. She was fucking beautiful—her skin glistening from the rain, her hair splayed out like a halo on the pillow. My hands shook slightly as I pulled off my own shirt, eager to feel her warmth against me.

Her hands reached for me again, pulling me down onto the bed. Our bodies collided with an urgency that bordered on desperation. My mouth found hers once more, and I kissed her deeply, losing myself in the taste and feel of her.

“Thomas,” she whispered against my lips, her voice a soft plea.

My name on her lips sent a jolt of desire through me. I trailed kisses down her neck, savoring the way she gasped and arched into me. My hands roamed over every inch of her body, memorizing the curves and lines that drove me wild.

“Fuck,” I muttered against her skin. “You’re perfect.”

Her fingers dug into my back as I continued my descent, my mouth worshiping every inch of her. When I finally reached the waistband of her underwear, I hesitated for a moment—just long enough to look up at her.

She met my gaze with a hunger that mirrored mine. “Don’t stop,” she breathed.

With a growl of affirmation, I hooked my fingers into the fabric and pulled them down in one swift motion. The sight of her bare and vulnerable beneath me was almost too much to bear.

“Goddamn,” I muttered, unable to tear my eyes away from her.

“Thomas,” she said again, this time more insistent.

I moved back up to capture her lips once more before whispering against them. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

I crawled on top of her, my breath coming in ragged gasps. The anticipation was almost unbearable. I slid inside her, a groan escaping my lips as her warmth enveloped me. Every nerve in my body was on fire, a sensation that was both exhilarating and overwhelming.

I intended to be rough, to let the raw passion consume us both. But as I moved within her, something shifted. The urgency melted away, replaced by a need to savor every moment. I found myself slowing down, taking the time to explore her body with a tenderness that caught me off guard.

Her skin was soft beneath my hands, every touch sending shivers through me. I kissed her deeply, tasting the sweetness of her lips and the salt of the rain still clinging to her. Our movements were unhurried, each thrust deliberate and measured. It wasn't just about the physical act; it was about connecting with her on a level I hadn't allowed myself to experience in years.

With anyone.

I watched her face as we moved together, captivated by the way her expressions shifted from pleasure to something deeper—something almost like love. Her eyes fluttered shut, and she bit her lip, trying to stifle the sounds of pleasure escaping her throat. I wanted to hear every moan, every gasp.

I marveled at how perfectly we fit together, how each movement brought us closer to that inevitable climax.

When she finally climaxed around me, it was like nothing I'd ever experienced before. Her body tensed beneath mine, her back arching off the bed as a cry of ecstasy escaped her lips. Her face flushed with pleasure, eyes squeezed shut as waves of bliss washed over her.

She looked beautiful—utterly lost in the moment and completely vulnerable. The sight of her climaxing because of me sent a surge of pride and possessiveness through my veins.

"Fuck," I growled, feeling the tightness around me intensify. "I want that again, Ally."

The intensity in my voice surprised even me. This wasn't just about satisfying an urge anymore; it was about experiencing this connection over and over again.

And as we continued to move together, slow and deliberate, I realized that maybe—just maybe—this was more than just a quick fuck.

I kissed her, my lips trailing down to her neck as my fingers found her clit. Her body tensed beneath me, and I felt a surge of satisfaction at her response.

"Again," I commanded, my voice rough with desire. "I want to feel you shatter on my dick."

She moaned, arching into me, her hands gripping my shoulders. My fingers moved faster, applying just the right amount of pressure. The sound of her pleasure drove me wild, fueling the fire that burned within me.

"Thomas," she whimpered, her voice breathy and full of need.

"There you go," I whispered against her skin, feeling my own climax building. Every muscle in my body tensed with the effort to hold back. I knew I should pull out, knew I should fucking stop, but she felt so damn good, and I couldn't.

I wouldn't.

Her body tightened around me as she came, a cry of pure ecstasy escaping her lips. The second her eyes met mine, I was gone. The sight of her lost in pleasure pushed me over the edge. My own release crashed through me like a tidal wave, overwhelming and all-consuming.

I felt myself coming deep inside her, a raw and primal sensation that was unlike anything I'd ever experienced before. It was as if every nerve in my body was on fire, every inch of me connected to her in a way that transcended mere physicality. The pleasure was so intense it bordered on pain, but it was a sweet agony that I never wanted to end.

When I finally finished, I carefully fell onto her, our bodies still entwined. My lips found the mark I'd left on her neck earlier, and I kissed it tenderly. Her skin was warm and inviting, and for a moment, everything else faded away.

I closed my eyes, my arm wrapping around her possessively. Her presence grounded me in a way that nothing else could.

"Don't fall asleep, old man," she whispered softly against my ear. "We have all night."

A chuckle rumbled from deep within my chest as I tightened my hold on her. "Not a chance," I murmured back, savoring the feel of her against me. "I want to show you just what the fuck this old man can do to you, sweetheart."