by Emerson Rose
The electrical current in the air is palpable as I’m roughly hoisted onto his lap to straddle his hips. He isn’t cute anymore, feral, animalistic, magnetic maybe, but definitely not cute.
Every inch of my skin craves his touch. Our moans and whimpers propel me on toward the unexpected goal to have him inside of me. My need for him is uncontrollable and undeniable.
I have never felt such a powerful desire to connect with him. Our hands are everywhere, and at once. All of my senses are on overload, the smell of his skin and the leather interior of the Escalade, the sight of his wild eyes darkening with desire, the sound of his breathing accelerating, the pounding of his heart under my hand on his chest, the combination is simply too much.
I drop my head back to offer him my neck. He kisses a trail from my chest to the little spot behind my ear that makes me shiver and down to the tender flesh above my collarbone where his open mouth devours me. His hand leaves my skin when he reaches out to lock the doors. The kitties are already loaded in back protesting loudly. They don’t appreciate the delay.
When his attention is fully on me again, the desire in his eyes stokes the scorching fire in my core. Every movement, every touch from there on out is frantic.
We tear at each other's clothes. I need him closer I want to touch him and taste everywhere. I unbutton his jeans and free his cock. It’s stiff and smooth as silk against my bare belly. He yanks one leg of my jeans off and rips the side of my panties to gain access to my wet seam.
I dig my nails into his shoulders and throw all caution to the wind when I rise to mount him. He stops, grasping my hips, suspending me above his cock.
“Hey…” I say, opening my eyes to see why he put the brakes on. He’s staring at me, panting with want, trembling on the precipice of ecstasy. “What is it?” I ask, between gasps. There is indecision in his eyes, what the hell? Why are we stopping? ‘Fuck me already,’ I scream in my mind. Since he’s always reading my damn mind, maybe he’ll hear that thought.
He releases me and I slide down around his beautiful, solid cock, coating him with my desire. When he is deep inside of me, he tangles one hand in my hair, the other circling my back. He plasters himself against me melding us into one entity, ringing the breath from my lungs.
We bury our faces into each other’s necks and fall into a perfect rhythm until I feel him swell inside of me. He stops to rein in his threatening orgasm.
When he’s able, he loosens his tenacious grip, and I gulp in a breath of much-needed air. I hold onto his shoulders and lift up until only his tip brushes the outer folds of my needy sex. Out of my mind with need, I sink down at the same time he thrusts his hips upward.
“Ah fuck, Imani,” he moans long and low. He picks up the pace and I take all of him with every thrust, every inch to the precipice of pain but it’s a delicious pain that I welcome over and over while we rock the hell out of this Cadillac.
“Fuck, Imani, I want to bite this ass,” he growls, squeezing and spreading my cheeks with his big hands as he penetrates my soaked core over and over.
I work my hips in circles and up and down. I ride him hard and fast, and then slow and measured. He spreads me wide and glides two fingers along my slit. With each thrust he drags my slickness back spreading it around the pucker of my ass. He hovers over it and slides a finger around the sensitive spot in circles. It feels good, better than I ever imagined it would.
“Mm, you like that, baby, I know you do.”
“Ah, yes.” Is all I’m capable of saying. We’re in that zone where nothing else matters and no one else exists. If someone opened the car door I wouldn’t even notice. This is bliss, the place between reality and fantasy.
He takes my nipple in his mouth and circles my clit driving me over the edge with the combination. I clutch his biceps and come like never before without warning or abandon.
“Oh God, Marcus!” I scream, and on cue we meld into one enormous ball of pulsing energy, like a star being born.
“Fuck, Imani, you slay me. I’m yours, I’m yours, I’m yours…,” he murmurs against my neck as our tightly wound muscles begin to relax. The veil of protection surrounding us dissipates and the reality of what we just did is revealed. We were doing a good job of abstaining until now. I move back ready to playfully scold him for allowing that to happen but stop when I see the fear in his eyes.
“What, Marcus, hey, what’s the matter?” He reaches out to touch my cheek swiping it he shows me two fingers covered in blood. “You’re bleeding,” he says.
I grasp his face between my hands and tilt his head toward me, examining his incision. I see nothing. His hair has grown back but it’s still short enough that I can see his incision and there is nothing, absolutely nothing, out of the ordinary.
I have his head facing down examining it when I feel panic surging through his body like a storm rolling in out of nowhere.
“Oh God, Imani, it’s not me, it’s you.” I release him and follow his gaze to where we are still connected. Somewhere there is the source of the blood, lots of it.
Did I start my period? I haven’t been keeping close track of it with all that’s been going on. The longer I look the clearer it is to me that this is not just a period. I am actively bleeding and cramping. Something is very wrong.
Marcus scrambles to move me onto the seat next to him, laying me down on my back. He wipes at the blood with his shirt from the floor, but I can feel it trickling down under my bottom.
I lift my hands and find my palms covered in blood. There isn’t a place on our bodies that went untouched in our frenzied state but we never noticed the blood. He throws open the door to my horror, screams for Mr. Black.
“Marcus, God no, don’t let him see me like this. Are you nuts?” He disregards me, and like a machine he works at putting himself back together and covering me up with the leg of my jeans that is still dangling from my hip.
The door opens immediately, and I turn to face the seat embarrassed to be seen half-dressed and bleeding everywhere.
“Eyes down! Take us to the nearest hospital, now!” he yells. Anger and worry ripple through his words and Black slams the door. He is in the driver’s seat pulling out of the hanger in seconds.
“Arms up.” I peek out from the shelter of the back seat. He’s holding my bra and sweater out for me. I blindly follow his instructions until I’m all in order, other than my one naked leg.
I feel like he knows something, like he is keeping something from me.
“Marcus.” He continues to fuss with the edge of my sweater and he won’t meet my eyes.
“Marcus,” I say raising my voice.
“Imani, I’m so sorry. I knew it was dangerous, I knew we shouldn’t. You are being punished because of me. I should have known something like this would happen. I’m not supposed to have anything good.”
What in the hell is he talking about?
“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Marcus. You’re not making any sense.” His eyes lock with mine and instantly I know why they say the eyes are the windows to the soul. His soul is being tormented by something new. I’ve seen his pain before but this is different, he’s being crucified.
“Marcus, you’re scaring me! Why am I bleeding? What are you not telling me?”
Oh God, no. It’s impossible. There is no way in hell that I am pregnant. The doctors made it crystal clear that I would never conceive and carry a child after my attack.
“Am I? Was I? No, no, this can’t be.” He nods his head and I lay my hands on my cramping belly. “How? You knew? Why didn’t you fucking tell me?” My questions start out soft but escalate to hysteria.
“Doctor Lorenzo checked when he did your physical. He didn’t know you couldn’t get pregnant.”
“And he told you and not me!” I roar. I see Mr. Black shift uncomfortably out of the corner of my eye and the kittens begin to yowl. My head is going to explode. I’m way past shock and overstimulation. I’m knocking on the door of insanity.
Marcus reaches out to
take my hand, and I smack it away.
“Don’t touch me right now.” I cover my eyes with my arm and attempt to accept what he’s telling me, what’s happening, what might happen, what he kept from me and why? I still can’t understand the why. Black hits a pothole that jolts me causing more pain and a gush of blood.
I wince and hold my abdomen with my free hand.
“Watch the fucking holes, Black,” he yells.
“Why, why didn’t you tell me?” He doesn’t answer. “Why?” I scream.
“I wanted to protect you. I didn’t want you to worry until we got home where you could see an obstetrician.” I look at him from under my arm, his head is hanging low and he is wringing his hands together.
“There’s got to be more than that. You didn’t keep a monumental piece of news like this from me just to prolong my worrying.”
“I didn’t believe it at first.” He raises his hand to his forehead. “I had Doctor Lorenzo run the blood test again. He knows I can’t have children. When he confirmed it a million things went through my mind. I even doubted you for a moment. I thought maybe you and Elijah… Goddamn it, Imani. I don’t deserve children. I couldn’t accept that this was real. I have been so incredibly blessed with you. I was frozen with fear that something bad would happen if you were pregnant with my child, and look at us. He waves his bloody hand over my belly hesitating near my hands. He wants to touch me, comfort me but he’s been warned.
“You thought I was unfaithful to you?” I whisper and the floodgates open wide. Disappointment and grief combined with anger burst from me in the form of tears.
Sure I’m angry that he kept my pregnancy from me, but the fact that he even considered for a microsecond that I would cheat on him is devastating. I raise my hands to my face and bawl, my body heaving up and down with my sobs.
The one thing I have always taken for granted is the level of trust we had. The knowledge and understanding that nothing could ever come between us, especially another person. Now I know our foundation is cracked with doubt.
“Imani, please, let me touch you. It’s killing me to watch you cry. I’m so sorry this is all my fault. I’m fucking cursed.”
I hear him between my shuddering breaths, but I can’t respond. I can’t even think right now, overwhelmed doesn’t even begin to cover the span of emotions I’m experiencing.
The car pulls to a stop, I can’t see what hospital we are at but I pray it’s not Seattle Trinity. I don’t want anyone I know seeing me like this, broken, bleeding, and dying of a shattered heart.
Minutes ago I was in heaven, and now I’m facing the loss of a child that I had no knowledge of and my husband thought I was unfaithful. This is abso-fucking-lutely spot on for us. If there is a chance something can go wrong with us, it always does.
“Tell them to bring a sheet and towels,” he says, when Black is getting out of the car. He gathers me into his lap disregarding the blood oozing from my body onto his jeans. He presses my face against his chest and I let out a wail and beat against his chest with my fists.
“I hate you!” I scream.
“I know, baby, I do, too. I do, too...”
Ninety-Seven
Like they always show in the movies, the lights overhead zip by as I’m wheeled down the hall of the emergency department into a small triage room. Thankfully, we are not at Seattle Trinity where I worked for over ten years.
It’s a small hospital and the gossip train makes the rounds regularly. Everyone would know that I was being hospitalized again and why.
I’m struggling with the facts of the situation. Thank God, this didn’t happen in Italy where I can’t understand a damn thing anyone’s saying. Why is this happening to me, to us? When will we ever catch a break?
I’ve been resolved to the idea of not having children for a long time, and so has Marcus. So why give us a miracle just to snatch it away before we can embrace it?
Haven’t I been through enough, God? I have suffered and fought, endured enough. I dedicated my life to helping others in need and now I’m being dragged through the mud for loving one of the most difficult people on earth. This is so unfair, so indescribably unfair.
“I… can’t… breathe,” I say, grabbing the edge of my nurse’s scrub shirt.
“Hold on, honey, you’re hyperventilating. Can you hold your breath for a few seconds?”
I’m sweating profusely, and lightheaded, but her words click. In the back of my mind I remember why she wants me to do the opposite of what feels right. I nod as she takes my hands and locks eyes with me.
“Breathe in. Good, good, now hold it with me.” I copy her and inhale a shallow, shaky breath and hold it with her until she starts to turn red. I blow out my breath hard, and she encourages me to repeat the process one more time.
“I got it. I’m OK now, thank you.” I read the name badge dangling from her shirt. Her name is Storm? The nurse sent to help me through this awful mess is named Storm? The irony is almost funny.
“What’s your name? Can you tell me what happened?”
“Imani, my name is Imani. I am… or I was…” I can’t force the word pregnant from my mouth and Marcus steps in to relieve me.
“She is pregnant, unexpectedly. We aren’t sure exactly how far along and we had sex tonight. That’s when the bleeding began.” I can hear the stress and regret in his voice.
My heart accelerates when he says the words ‘she is pregnant.’ Storm feels my pulse quicken under her fingers where she is still holding my hands.
“We will find out what’s going on, okay? Try not to panic. I’ll call the OB and she will look you over before we jump to any conclusions.”
Other people are coming in and out of the room but I focus on Storm’s words. I watch her lips move and I hear her voice, but the meaning isn’t connecting. I repeat what she said in my head over and over, ‘don’t panic, don’t jump to conclusions.’
A nurse starts and IV in my arm and another uses a warm washcloth to clean the blood off of my legs. Every time I blink someone new is crowding into the small room asking questions, bringing in supplies, asking for signatures and poking at me. Marcus is here, I can feel him, I hear him breathing, but my eyes are on Storm.
“This is Doctor Morris, Imani,” she says gesturing toward a lovely brunette woman who has just appeared at the end of the bed. “She’s an OB. She’s going to assess your bleeding, okay?” I can’t speak, my mouth tastes like sand but I nod.
“Imani, can you tell me how far along you might be? Have you missed a period?”
I don’t know. I probably couldn’t tell her if it were yesterday, my mind isn’t functioning. I turn to Marcus for help. When he realizes I need him, he jumps at the opportunity to be included in any way that I will allow.
“She had a blood test a week ago that indicated she is ten to twelve weeks along.”
That news clears some things up. Ten to twelve weeks, have I been that irregular? There must be a mistake. I look at him with disbelief, and he raises his eyebrows tilting his head to the side with an expression that says ‘I can’t believe it either.’
“Alright, good, well, we have confirmation of a positive pregnancy then. I’m going to take a look at your bleeding and do an ultrasound, Imani. Do you understand?”
I squeeze my eyes shut tight and roll my head in Marcus’s direction. I may hate his ass right now, but I’m scared. Storm is soothing but Marcus is my rock, and in his own totally fucked up way I know he loves me.
“She understands,” he says. He crouches down next to the gurney and laces his bloody fingers with mine. Doctor Morris lifts the sheet from the bottom of the bed and proceeds to perform a speculum exam. I flinch at the slightest touch and she notices. She touches my knee lightly and asks me to relax.
This is the old Imani. The one I thought was gone. I used to be so inhibited that it took an hour in an exam room to work up the courage for a pap smear every year. I wouldn’t undress in front of a stranger or share a hotel room on a vacati
on.
I feel none of that with Marcus. From day one I’ve been an open book physically and mentally for him to touch and explore. I have no inhibitions with him. I blossomed naturally like a flower in sunlight in his arms. I trusted him with everything. I guess that wasn’t a two-way street after all. He doubted me. He fucking doubted me.
When Doctor Morris is finished, she covers me and stands on the side of the bed opposite from Marcus.
“I’m not going to beat around the bush. You exhibit signs of having been abused in the past and you’re bleeding heavily. I have to ask, is everything OK between you two?”
He squeezes my hand so hard I think he might crush my fingers. “It wasn’t him,” I say with a croak.
“Can she have some water?”
“Just a sip, there is a cup behind you. What do you mean it’s not him, Imani? Who is it then?” He hands me a Styrofoam cup of water. I ignore her orders and take a long drink.
“It happened a long time ago. She was kidnapped and raped,” Marcus says in an even tone. He’s trying to hold it together but I know he wants to rip her head off for insinuating that he hurt me on purpose.
“Is that true, Imani?”
“Yes, it happened when I was nineteen, I was jumped…”
“She’s not going to rehash all of that again. Can we get on with the exam and see what’s going on?”
Doctor Morris looks at me. “I’d like to know what’s happening, please. Can we just get on with it?” She nods curtly at my request and a nurse pushes a portable ultrasound machine to the bedside.
“Mr. Castillo,” Doctor Morris says in a challenging tone, and I feel him bristle beside me, taking offense to her tone.
“Yes, Doctor Morris?”
“Could you turn out the light behind you?” She is all business now as she switches on the machine. I want to look but at the same time I don’t.
Finding out you’re pregnant is life-changing news for any woman, and I’m sure it takes time to wrap your head around it. But I’m not supposed to be able to get pregnant. I believed for ten years that it was impossible. This is crazy mind blowing for me
