by K. F. Breene
“You would have let him kill you, wouldn’t you?” he asked in a strained voice.
I nodded. It wasn’t rational, and now seemed extreme, but that was exactly what I had been thinking.
He continued to stare into my eyes. “You wanted to send me away so you could basically commit suicide.” It wasn’t a question.
“I wanted to send you away to save your life.”
William clutched my arms, his control wobbling, the pain he was feeling visible on his face.
Across the room, the dog stood.
“I nearly came apart when you tried to leave the state,” William said in a low tone, his eyes overflowing. He wasn’t trying to hide his emotion from me. We were past that. “Do you know that? When you tried to leave me, safe and in one piece, I panicked. How could you think I could live if you died? Died because I couldn’t protect you? Do you think me a monster? That I could walk away from you at all, let alone like that? Walk away from the woman that I love?”
My heart raced. He clutched my arms hard and shook a little. The dog moved closer, sounding a soft growl.
“William, how could you've lived with me if Dusty had...? You would’ve been revolted by me.”
I didn’t even realize I’d been thinking it until it came out of my mouth. I didn’t realize the intense shame I would have felt, even though none of it was my fault. It crippled me. Made my insides squirm until I wanted to crawl into a corner and die. That’s why I’d wanted to fight even at the cost of my own life. That’s why I could barely think back on the alternative outcome without feeling dirty. Unclean.
I needed to call Dr. George tomorrow.
“How could I live with you?” William whispered, incredulous. “What do you mean? You must think I’m a monster.” There was such pain in those words. Pain to match my fear and shame. “How could I live with myself, you must mean. How could I live with my inability to keep you safe? When you were with me the whole time. How could you possibly think it’s you?” He shook me a little harder, his anger at himself letting the control of his strength slip.
Before I could talk him down, the dog reacted. It barked three times, then threw its body at the gap between us. The night erupted around us, dogs barking and scratching at the glass door. The large dog between us, battering William backwards, reaching its paws to William’s chest, growling in his face. Snapping once, a warning.
I nearly peed myself, William completely forgotten.
William stepped backward, blinking, staring into brown dog eyes instead of mine. His hands let go slowly, so as not to drag me along, as the dog pushed him back another step.
“Down,” he commanded softly, his voice weak, his body spent. The dog complied immediately, but didn’t sit down, still alert.
Although, those dogs always looked alert, so who knew.
The chorus outside died down to a few whines, now that the dog inside was calm. It must be the leader. The assistant to the top dog, the head of the pack being William. Me being just another bitch.
I was too sad to chuckle.
“Jessica.” William stepped forward and crushed me to his chest, digging his face into my neck. “It would never be you that I would shy away from. Not ever. Do you hear me? Not ever! Not for anything.” He held me tighter and took a deep, raged breath.
He loosened up enough to put his face inches from mine and look into my eyes. “I love you, Jessica. I think I always have. I am positive I always will.”
He didn’t wait for a response. He kissed me deeply and thoroughly, our bodies pushed together. I could feel his taught muscles against me, his growing manhood against my stomach.
I felt light. Weightless. But I felt grounded at the same time. I felt like I had taken a serum that heightened my senses, but nothing stood out more than before. Except William. To William I was affected. His smell. His presence. His closeness. His breathing, which was quicker than normal right now. I noticed every rise and fall of his chest, every play of his muscles as he stroked and touched me. His heart beating through his sturdy chest. His stubble against my face. The way he let his emotions for me overflow into a world of their own. A deep river that connected us at its origin and flowed across time and space to merge with a deeper body, a more expansive oasis.
“Easy cowboy.” My sultry voice was soft and sweet. It conveyed all the things that I was feeling right now. “Let’s make it to the bed, first.” I let my words be playful, but the rapid surge of need filled me.
He shook his head slightly to ward off butterflies and let out another raged breath. A sudden insight led me to realize that neither of us had been down this path before. We were walking unprotected on an uncharted plain into a place where each of us could be ground into nothing if the other so chose. We were opening ourselves to each other as we had to no other. As we rarely had even to ourselves. The events of the night transpired into a level of trust I shared with no other.
He ran his hand up my body. He bent me over backward gently and kissed each nipple. He flicked his tongue along my areola and sucked. I let out a moan. He softly bit and sucked harder, slipping his hand between my legs into my warm, wet slit. He worked his fingers on my pleasure button as heat coursed through my body.
Chapter Eight
“I love you Jessica. I want you so badly. I want you as my own.”
He backed me to the bed and laid me down. He stood above me with his large cock jutting out. He opened my legs and kneeled down, lightly licking and tasting my inner thighs. He slowly, ever so slowly, moved up my leg, giving me Goosebumps.
Finally he reached my sex, licking lightly, then softly blew to enhance anticipation. I opened my legs wider, begging with my body. He opened my slit and took a long taste, his lips and tongue exploring. Two fingers worked inside me, messaging upward, hitting exactly where I needed him, his hot mouth teasing my clitoris.
I lost all thought. The rising increasingly mounting, his sucking, tasting, rubbing and touching going faster, harder. I moaned and arched, positioning myself to enjoy the experience fully. At last the tidal wave of satisfaction broke over me and I cried out a final time, my body shuddering.
He climbed up onto me, inserting himself, his need obvious. His large manhood thrust deeply, hitting all the right places, and the dance began. He took it slow. Almost too slow. I begged and pleaded for him to go faster, scratching his back and biting his neck, but he wouldn’t relent. He kissed and rocked, telling me sensual nothings with a smile, heightening the sensation.
I quaked and peaked, then started the build again. Each peak higher than the last. Time and space did not exist. I would not have blinked if I found we were suddenly floating through the bedroom air, or in a different location altogether. He continued his recital of his worship of me, me proving to be as much a god to him as he was Apollo to me. His thrusting was a little faster now. He iron glad self-control starting to slip in the emotions of the night.
I had paired my emotions for him with our love making since we first began, but this was a different level. A deeper level. It went to the core of me. I was opening myself in ways I didn’t know I could, inviting him inside in a way that I could never take back, realizing that I would never want to. Our bodies moved in sync with each other, his thrusting coming faster, harder, his breath labored, my moans of delight louder.
He bit my neck then kissed me hard. I grabbed at him with all my strength, arching and pulling. I pushed him on with my words, I met his thrust for thrust, twisting my legs around him and begging for more. I pulled him into me, crashing against his body, then feeling his withdrawal only to pull him back in.
We were panting when climax took us, rocketing us away from reality. We held onto each other as if the world was being torn apart, us knowing where ever we would be sucked and spun, it would be together. His final cry was that he loved me, that phrase over simplifying the feeling, but cementing itself into our every fiber.
We lay in each other’s arms, him stroking my hair, breathing deeply. I wanted to admi
t my love as well, but not as an afterthought. Not as a come-down. I wanted to do it in my own way. Without him stealing my thunder. Or me stealing his.
Oh God, where am I?
I looked around frantically before I saw my lotion bottle on the dresser. The disorientation from waking up started to recede, helping me recognize William’s room in the ranch house. I hadn’t been here in over a month, and then only the one time. We’d been sleeping in his elegantly furnished house in the city. A place I now knew well.
The bold sunlight shot through the thin fabric of the curtains and baked my eyes. Shielding my face with my arm, I allowed my eyes to flutter and my consciousness to come fully awake. The red numbers on the alarm clock said 9:03. It was my usual time to get up on a weekend, if I hadn’t been drinking the night before, but my body hurt. And my pride hurt. I could have slept for half the day, shutting out the uncomfortable world I found myself.
But my safety blanket was gone. Which had me sitting up and groggily, blinking around the room.
A soft chiming sounded next to me. The dog from last night stood, its stump of a tail wagging as it stared at me with what I imagined a hostile gaze.
“Hi girl. Or boy.” Further analysis proved it was a boy. “You waiting for me, or did you sleep in, too?”
He didn’t respond.
“It seems you’ve learned Denise’s stare down.”
Standing out of bed, in the buff, I noticed my dress had been removed.
“Good,” I said to myself. Then realized that it was weird to talk to oneself when another being was in the room. I turned to the dog. “I hope they burned it.”
He wagged his tail. It was a better class of answer than silence, at any rate.
I snagged a pair of William’s boxer-briefs and a t-shirt, both of which were loose, but smelled deliciously like his fabric softener. I sighed like a love-sick ninny as I turned toward the door.
The dog nearly knocked me over as it sprinted out in front of me, then clattered around the Mexican tile of the hallway.
“Geez. Graceful my butt.”
I smelt cooking, though no bacon. Beggars can’t be choosers.
As I wandered into the kitchen, ready to pinch my Romeo on the butt, I stopped dead when I saw Denise at the stove, oven mitt on her hand, apron on her chest. William was at the center island with a paper and a glass of orange juice.
I quickly about-faced, not ready to meet this women, who still didn’t like me no matter what she said. I didn't want her seeing me in William’s freaking underwear!
Before I could get away, I heard: “Jess. Where ya headed?”
Freezing mid-stride, I about-faced again, though slower this time. “Oh, well, um…I was going to look for something more…suitable… to wear.”
He looked me over. Man he looked so good right now. The sunlight in the room was reflecting in his brilliant blue eyes filled to the brim with love. His strong forearms braced against the counter, body completely relaxed and in his element. He was well-built and powerful met with grace and refinement. He could sit on a stool in an old T-shirt and pajama bottoms, like he was right at the moment, and still exude such manly confidence that I wasn’t sure I could keep my hands off. How the hell did I land this man? And how could anyone possibly love this much?
“You look fine. It’s only us,” he said, a smile tickling those lush lips.
I tried to use facial sign language to fervently explain that his mother did not count as an “us,” thank you very little, but you could only get so far with snarls and widening eyes.
He smiled, shook his head, and looked adorably confused. “C’mon. My mom is making her famous Eggs Benedict. Do you want some OJ?”
“Yes please.” Resigned, I walked over in his boxers and sat down on the stool next to him at the island. Then, remembering my manners, even though I was a titch embarrassed, I said, “Hello Mrs. Davies. Nice to see you again.”
Denise turned around, and for the first time ever in my acquaintance, had a warm smile. It didn’t take long for her face to cloud over, though, as her eyes flickered around my face and neck—she must be checking out the latest batch of bruises.
When her eyes flicked to my upper arms, her brow furrowed. She looked back into my face.
Yeah, it was his shirt, what choice did I have?
“Those hand prints look too big to match…” Denise’s accusing cobra stare pounded her son.
In confusion I looked to my arms, remembered, then shrugged. I’d forgotten about our breakdown.
He noticed the exchange and followed her gaze. His eyes widened in surprise.
“Did I do that?” he asked in horrified shock.
You could just make out where his fingers had squeezed, but not much else. They were faint and not worth notice. Not in the face of the other bruises, which I didn't want to think about until Dr. George had me in his chair.
“Yeah.” I shrugged again. “Not a big deal.”
“Jessica!” William gently ran his fingers over my upper arm, “It is a big deal! My God, why didn’t you say something?
I nearly laughed—why didn’t I say something? Such a man response. Why was he squeezing in the first place? But I knew why, and I didn’t think he would realize it was a joke, so I shrugged again and said instead, “Didn’t seem important. There were… other things to discuss.”
“Jessica, I am so sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you!” He looked like a beat puppy. He stroked my cheek with his fingers.
“No worries.” I shrugged for the millionth time. Denise was still pointedly looking at William. He caught the look.
“Mom, I’m serious. I didn’t know I was hurting her!”
“You need to be more careful,” Denise said in a firm tone. It was like she was talking to two children. I didn’t appreciate the sentiment.
“The story isn’t in the papers, so that is good,” Denise said after we’d sat down at the table to quietly ate our breakfast.
I tried to keep my mind from calling up flashbacks. William put a hand on my leg.
“Dusty lived,” she continued. “He was put in intensive care overnight. But he lived. As soon as he is able he’s going straight to prison. Scotty is ready to counter sue if Dusty’s father looks like he is going to press charges. Right now it looks like the father’s placing blame the group his son hangs out with, but you never know. It is a painful road for a parent to travel—placing blame on a child. The good news is that the police have enough evidence to rule this as self-defense.”
“Good.” William sighed, squeezing my leg gently again.
There was a knock at the door followed by William’s bellow to come in. The dog took off to investigate.
I felt it my job to elbow William for blowing out my ear, even though Denise didn’t seem to mind. He, again, looked at me confusedly. We’d have to take up sign language.
In stepped Adam, who wasted no time checking out my various battle wounds. He crossed the room in a few long strides and ripped me out of my chair and into a tight embrace. It was fine, except that he could have smelt better.
“Damn it, Jessica. How do you keep getting’ inta trouble?” he asked with a growl.
“Ow,” I responded meekly.
He put me down and shook his head. “Damn glad to see you made it out. Someone should’a told us that fucker was out of jail!”
“ADAM! Language!” Dense yelled.
“Oh.” Adam's face turned red. “Sorry ma’am.”
“It is like a bunch of sailors in this house!” Denise said, standing. “You want breakfast, Adam?”
“Yes ma’am, if it suits.”
“Now, that’s better. That’s language your mother would be proud of.”
After I’d showered and climbed into some clothes William had nicked from my house, the sneak, I thanked Denise for the breakfast and scurried toward the hallway.
“Jessica—“ Almost made it!
With a big sigh I turned back to Adam, who apparently thought my discomfort was hilariou
s, judging by the irritating smirk on his face. “Been meanin’ to tell ya. I’ve got a car you can borrow. I never use the thing so it’s no trouble if you wanna use it.”
“Adam, that is really great. Probably too much, though. I’ll get my stuff figured out soon.”
His eyes brows furrowed dangerously. “Stop bein’ stubborn. I don’t use it. Borrow it. Get your own’un. Give it back.”
“Yiks, okay. Thanks.”
“It’s nuthin.”
We walked into Adam’s spacious, three car garage later that day. It was attached to a moderate-sized ranch house. It wasn’t as nice as the one on William’s ranch, nor as big, but apparently Adam didn’t stay out here much, so he didn’t bother with improvements. He, like William, had a place closer to the city.
Must be freaking nice having two houses and a bunch of cars to put in them. No wonder William couldn’t understand why buying a car was a big deal. Jerk.
The light from the open garage door splashed down on a beat-up old mustang in need of desperate repair. It looked like the paint was once orange, but rust had taken over. I tried to keep my eyes from bugging out of my head for Adam’s sake, but no offense, I would rather take the bus.
William and Adam started laughing.
“Not that one you dolt!” Adam turned to William, “Didcha see the look on her face? She about threw up her breakfast!”
Indignantly, I watched as Adam walked across the garage, passing a sweet, though slightly older, Mercedes, before he stopped in front of a mid-sized car with a cover on it. He pointed. Being that the light was on one side of the big garage, and he was on the other, and also that the car had a cover, I wasn’t sure what reaction to offer. Frankly, I was worried it would look like the rusty death trap I was standing in front of.
“Oh right,” Adam said as he noticed, apparently for the first time, that the car was incognito. He ripped off the cover and pointed again. “It’ll do ya, I reckon. It works. About five years old, but I ain’t had no problems with it. Hell, I hardly ever drove the thing before I parked it. Prefer the truck.”
