Absolution Savage Duet Part Two: Russo Saga Part Five

by Nicolina Martin

  I lean in, whispering in her ear: “And babe. You can safeword. But have some faith. Don’t fucking safeword before I’ve even started. Now, don’t move.”

  I caress her butt cheek, letting a thumb slide along the crack, down, up again, teasing, making goosebumps erupt on her skin. Then I raise my arm and let the ruler come down on her left cheek. Not too hard, a light slap that shouldn’t do more than sting briefly. A gasp escapes her, but she remains still. I kiss the skin where I smacked down, then I lift my arm again. Harder, faster. Kerry groans and her toes curl. I correct my cock, fuck I’m hard. In rapid succession, I let the ruler fall on her left side, her right side, her upper thighs, making her dance from side to side, but no safeword. I bend over and kiss the pain, blow at the swellings, at the angry red welts. Sliding my hand in between her thighs, I caress my way up to her wet pussy. Kerry moans and pushes back. I move along her slit, parting her lips, circle her clit. It grows under the tip of my fingers and Kerry begins to make little mewling sounds.

  “You missed me,” I whisper as I unzip and pull out my cock, stroking it in my other hand.

  She shakes her head which makes me laugh. “Yes, you did.”

  “No. Whenever I’m with you it hurts.”

  I grab the ruler and slap her again, five times on each side, making sure to hit where she’s sore the most. She groans, but still no safeword.

  “Touch yourself,” I say. Put your hand between your legs, push your fingers inside your pussy and spread your lips for me. Let me see you.”

  I ache to take her. It fucking hurts. It’s been such a long time and all I’ve had, after all my visits here, has been my right hand.

  I stroke my rock-hard cock as I watch her obey me. The thought that I can do everything I want with her is mind-blowing. I can take her, tie her up, gag her, use all her holes, until she cries and begs. Something dark in me wants to hurt her, use her, and I have to keep that part at bay. At least for now.

  Her long slender fingers move in her pussy, spreading her lips. I groan as I watch the pink folds, glistening with her juices, open. Lining up my cock to her opening, I push away her hand and slam inside her in one rough thrust, making her squeal and jerk forward. I grab her hips to ground her to me, waiting just a little to let her catch her breath before I thrust again, and again. Kerry pants and writhes. I stop for a moment and pull off my shirt, tossing it to the floor, then I begin to pound in her in earnest. When Kerry pushes at me, trying to ease the pressure, I lean in and catch her arms, pushing them tight against her lower back, holding both in one of my hands. That leaves her with no leverage, and completely at my mercy. I find my way to her clit and rub it, pinch it, making her shake. Small sobs escape her and at the same time she pushes back on me, rocks with me.

  Falling forward, she buries her face in the cushion, her cries muffled, as her inner walls convulse around my cock.

  I am so fucking close to coming when I realize that I have no clue if she’s on birth control. Still. I pull out and grab her arm.

  “On your knees.”

  Kerry has no resistance, no will of her own, as she numbly lets me spin her around. I grab her hair and push my cock deep into her throat. She gags, and her hands slam up, pushing at my thighs. I’m so close and she isn’t going anywhere.

  I come hard, clenching my teeth to muffle the wild roar that wants to erupt from my throat. Kerry hits my thighs, and then she finally breaks free as I release my hold. She darts to her feet, wipes come off her chin and slaps my chest.

  “You piece of shit!”

  I laugh and grab her hands, pushing her down on her back on the couch. “Let me make it up to you.” Nudging her thighs apart I hold her gaze as I lick along the inside of her thigh, all the way up to where her legs meet, to where she’s swollen, tender and deliciously wet.

  Our eyes are locked as I let my tongue lick a path from her ass all the way up to her clit, then her eyelids fall closed and she raises her hips to meet me. I push two fingers inside her slick channel, finding that ridged spot in the front wall, rubbing it, making sobs erupt from her throat. Kerry bites down on her forearm to keep from screaming as she comes, shaking and shuddering. Kissing my way over her little patch of red hair, veering past the rose tattoo in my track across her belly, I then climb higher and pull her to me, a thigh over her legs, my arms around her chest, locking her in. I don’t want to let go. Ever.

  “You’re not right in the head,” she finally whispers.

  “I think we’ve established that.”

  I’m drenched in sweat, spent, but I’m also so fucking relaxed.

  “I don’t think we should be doing this.”

  My heart skips a beat. “Why?”

  “It’s… I— I don’t know, Christian. It’s just too much.”

  I rise on my elbow and study her. “But you like this?”

  Kerry pulls back, struggles to get up, and I let her as something grows colder inside. She finds her clothes that are spread around the room and puts them on, one by one. As she turns her back on me my cock stirs again at the mottled skin and the sweet red welts on her butt. It’s as if she reads my mind, because she tentatively puts her hand on her ass and lets out a hiss.

  “Tender?”

  She pulls up her pants, holding out the waistband as she passes the bruised skin, then she spins around.

  “You never give me a choice, Christian. I never get to make a decision. It’s always about you, and your needs. You never ask what I want.”

  I narrow my eyes as I stand and move toward her. Kerry, brave little Kerry, doesn’t move. “I take what I want, and you’re loving it. I know it.”

  Kerry has to tilt her head to meet my gaze. The heat grows in the almost non-existent distance between us. “This won’t work, Christian. You’re an awesome dad, but I never know when you’ll… turn on me.”

  “This isn’t me turning on you,” I snarl.

  Kerry throws up her hands. “You’re doing it again!”

  I groan and take a step back. Picking up my jeans and pulling them back on, I look at the determined little woman before me. She hugs her chest that rises and falls rapidly. Her hands tremble slightly. I know she isn’t unaffected. I know she wants me. I just don’t know how to make her see it.

  You never ask what I want.

  “Christian.” She lays a hand on my arm. “Let’s just be her parents. It’s enough, isn’t it?”

  I pull her hand to me and kiss the tips of her fingers, one after the other. “No, love. It’s not enough. It will never be enough for me.”

  “You can’t just take me.”

  “I won’t,” I say and unlock the door, stepping out into the dark living room. “Let’s just be Mom and Dad, then, Kerry.” The words taste wrong. That’s not what we are, and I know she knows it. I see it in her eyes, feel it in the energy between us. She wants me just as much as I want her, she just has to come around and acknowledge it.

  I put my hand on the front door handle.

  “Christian.”

  I inhale and turn. Meeting her gaze, I wait.

  “Sunday? In the park?” She sounds so unsure, as if she’s afraid I’ll reject her. She still doesn’t understand. She’s mine. I’m hers. That will never happen.

  “Sure,” I say, clenching my jaw, then I leave while I still can.

  Chapter 27

  Kerry

  I look at us as others must see us. We’re picture perfect. We look like any other couple in the park, the mother sitting on a bench, enjoying the sun, the father playing on the playground with their two-year old daughter.

  If they only knew.

  No one but me knows of the darkness in him, of the longing in his eyes he doesn’t know that I see. No one knows of my long, lonely nights when I wish we were that normal couple, when I put a hand between my legs and conjure up the memories of our latest meeting, fantasizing of it happening again, fantasizing of his possessiveness, the fright that turns to heat, of his complete domination over me.

  I
t’s as if he hears my thoughts. His dark eyes dart up and meet mine for a brief moment, making my heart stutter.

  We share so many secrets, and then there’s the one we never share: where we stand with each other.

  He’s the only man I want, but I can’t function when I’m with him. He devours my whole being. We’re just not meant to be. So why do I long for him every moment of my life?

  I close the journal and put the pen down. I brought it because I figured I could catch up while we’re here, but I have nothing to say. I glance again at father and daughter. He is good with her, really good. He’s good for her.

  Does time heal all wounds? I don’t know. At least it makes it harder to remember why they hurt in the first place. He sacrificed himself for our daughter. He’s her father, a hero, and a real person, a real man. No matter who he is, and what he has done in the past, it doesn’t matter anymore.

  Part III

  Blessings

  Chapter 28

  Kerry

  Christian has an amazing house. An old mansion built in the forties, part brick, part wooden panel. Back then it was probably pretty much the only house on the hill. Now a whole community of more modern, and larger houses surrounds it, but they lack the charm of this older building. It’s got pillars on either side of the front door, two floors and a mysterious attic window, nooks and crannies, a balcony on the backside with my favorite view in life, and a large, old swimming pool with blue mosaic in the pattern of a dolphin on the bottom.

  It’s also almost empty of furniture. It’s like he sleeps here, but I wonder where he lives.

  I got the tour when I left off Cecilia the first time, but after that I’ve only stood in the hallway. I don’t want to intrude on their time together. It’s like this place has become theirs. Father’s and daughter’s.

  A light chair on his patio has flipped over and flaps in the wind, rattling against the hard surface. It bangs and slams like an out-of-control child. I look out into the darkness where the streetlights are dancing a funny dance and then I glance behind me. He should secure the outdoor furniture and wrap up the newer plants. It’s getting colder. Why hasn’t he already?

  He’s reading to Cecilia and the wind has increased dramatically just in the last twenty minutes. Maybe he isn’t even aware of the severity of the situation.

  A storm is well on its way and I need to get her back home before it gets too bad. I press my nose against the window. The rage outside translates through the soulless surface and makes me quiver. Where are they? I spin around and walk with determined steps across the room only to meet Christian in the doorway. “I wondered where you were.” I can barely hide the irritation in my voice. “It’s getting windy. You should put your patio furniture in the garage.”

  He looks uncomfortable. I frown. “Trust me,” I add. “You don’t want to leave them loose. If something comes flying through the air, your windows will crack like eggshells if this thing keeps up with its promise.”

  He pushes his fingers through his hair and sighs. “I know. I’m not sure I can do it alone.”

  That is the least likely of all answers I would have thought possible. “Why?”

  “Can you please help me?”

  And there’s that word again. Please. It’ll never cease to amaze me, hearing it from his lips. “Oookay. Where’s Cece?”

  His features lighten. “Sleeping. After the walk she was exhausted.”

  “Sleeping? But… we need to get going. Real soon.”

  He steps into a pair of boots. “Are we doing this?”

  I frown and reach for my sweater. “Sure.”

  We almost have to double over as we fight against the gusts and I curse him more than once for not having done this earlier this afternoon. When it was still bright. When it wasn’t so cold. Together we carry furniture across the dark patio and Christian struggles with canvas and rope to tie around the plants, saving them from the rage and the possible frost. I think of my bed, my TV, of a warm cup of tea and my cozy pajamas. Why am I here again? I frown as I look at Christian who seems to be more holding onto a large terracotta pot than wrapping it.

  “Hur—” The wind steals my words, almost before they even leave my lips, and I realize I can scream as much as I want to and he won’t hear it anyway, not over the wind. I struggle across the lawn and shudder. The temperature has dropped several degrees in just the last couple of hours. He jerks when I tap his shoulder. “You need to—” Even in the dark I see how pale he is. He looks exhausted. “Just leave it!” I shout. “Come on!”

  The wind comes from behind us now and shoves us forward, almost lifts us back. Once inside, the door slams shut behind us and we’re thrown into silence, our hearing temporarily stunned by the alarm we’ve just fought our way through. I gasp and lean back against the nearest wall. Christian’s chest heaves and he’s sweaty.

  I frown. “What’s wrong?”

  “Noth—ing’s wrong,” he hitches.

  I leave my spot by the wall, taking a few steps closer, studying him. “You look absolutely exhausted, Christian. Are you ill?” Putting my hand to his forehead, I feel if he has a fever. He’s sweaty and warm, but not hot. At least not feverish hot.

  “Funny,” he gasps, his eyes following the track of my hand as I let it drop. “Isn’t it quite the déjà vu? The wind, the cold.”

  “Not the isolation, though,” I say quickly.

  “Not the isolation. Hell, I don’t ever wanna see a forest again in my life.” He sighs deeply and kicks off his boots. “You should stay, you know.”

  “No. We have to go!” Sleeping in the same house as him… bad, bad idea. Memories of ropes and belts, of pain and half-panic run through my mind, making my blood run hotter through my veins.

  “You don’t have to go, Ker. I have like… six guestrooms or something.” He sighs. “Just… be reasonable for once. I won’t touch you. I know what you said.”

  “No, we can’t—” Why the fuck does that hurt? I should be pleased. He’s reasonable for once. Then I take a closer look. “What’s wrong, Christian?” He suddenly worries me. He looks as if he would fall into a heap if I poked him.

  “I’ll tell you in front of the fireplace. After you’ve made yourself a bed.”

  “No! I—” A loud crack outside has us both jumping. I glance out the window but see nothing but my own reflection. “It’s— I. Well—” I realize I can’t justify endangering Cece and myself by going out into the blustery night. It’s not impossible, not like in Canada, it’s not like we’re trapped, it would just be really stupid. And she is already asleep. I want to fight it, I want to find a way, but there is none that is reasonable, and I nod reluctantly. “Where do you keep your spare sheets?”

  “In the closet.”

  “Where?”

  “In whichever room you pick.”

  “I’ll take the one closest to Cece.”

  “Okay.” He turns his back on me and starts toward the living room. “You realize it’s also the one closest to mine?”

  I groan. I can easily picture the smug look on his face.

  Cece’s door is open. She snores lightly. Maybe I could sleep in there? Awkward doesn’t quite cover how it feels to actually be making a bed in his house, and the little thrills that run through me have got nothing to do with his closeness. Nothing at all. Staying is practical, that’s all there is to it.

  When I’m done, I plan to quietly slip between the sheets and forget I’m even here, but I realize I have nothing to sleep in, and no toothbrush. My palms get sweaty just from the thought of going back down to him. I think of skipping the toothbrush, sleeping in my clothes and… somehow it doesn’t seem very mature.

  I tiptoe down the stairs. He sits with his back to me in one of the two leather chairs that stand in front of the fireplace. A few strands of hair peek up from over the back of the chair and a foot dangles from a leg slung over the armrest. I know these chairs are new, and still they look old and worn. I wonder how much that cost. Everything has
a price.

  I wonder what it will cost me to get a toothbrush.

  Everything has a price.

  I won’t touch you.

  A shiver runs through me.

  I’m not very good at keeping my promises.

  “Hey,” I say. “I wonder—”

  “Sit. Please. Just for a few minutes.” His voice is soft, and still I sense the underlying need and it makes my stomach clench again. He leans back, his eyes on me. In front of him, on a little sideboard with a smoky glass surface, stand two glasses filled with a creamy, yellowish content.

  I clear my throat. “I was just wondering if you have a toothbrush I could use.”

  “Sit with me and I’ll give you everything you need.”

  “Just a little while then, it’s late and I should—”

  “It’s eight thirty, Ker.”

  My cheeks heat up. I hate when he sees right through me. The fire is crackling peacefully, though, and the warmth is nice. There’s a throw blanket on the arm rest. Grabbing it, I hang it over my shoulders before I sit down next to him and gesture to the glasses. “What’s this?”

  “Eggnog. It’s warm. It’s really good.”

  “I’ve never tasted it.”

  “Then what are you waiting for?”

  I enjoy the feel of the warm heavy glass in my hand before I sip on the sweet creamy contents. The bourbon in it makes my taste buds bounce with surprise. But I like the aftertaste. “It’s nice,” I say.

  “Aw, come on. It’s more than ‘nice’. This is an art form.”

  “The art of making eggnog?”

  “The perfect eggnog. And not only that, but the fire, the blanket, the weather. Perfect conditions.”

  I eye him suspiciously. “For what?”

  “For a moment of real peace.”

  I’m quiet. I’m bad at that. At taking it easy. I rush from this to that, avoiding time for thought, time for reflection. It’s a habit I’ve perfected over the years. I had no idea he did things like this. I wonder what he and Cece do when they’re alone. Suddenly, I’m jealous. They have something I don’t take part in. I take a larger sip and enjoy how it warms my chest. This is nice.