Embrace

by S. Layne

  He turns me around, his jaw tightly clenched. “I don’t want to finish in your mouth.”

  I nod, spin around, and bend over the bed. My feet widen instinctively as James’s cock runs along the crease in my ass. His hands follow, his fingers teasing my puckered hole.

  I moan in pleasure from being teased there. It’s not something he’s ever done, not something I thought I’d ever enjoy.

  I arch into his movements and I can tell it shocks him.

  He stills briefly and then runs his finger around the tight hole again. My body shivers.

  “Here?” he asks, and his voice is tight with hate.

  I shake my head, unable to speak. The tip of his cock is running along my folds, his hips slowly rocking, teasing me, and his finger is playing with a hole I never wanted Liam to take.

  But was curious all the same.

  I hesitate in answering, and James must understand why because he asks, “Have you?”

  “No,” I say, my voice catching, and go for honesty. “But he wanted to.”

  A harsh exhale falls from his lips.

  “Did that turn you on?” I ask, turning to look at him over my shoulder. My long hair falls in my face, making it difficult to see him. “That video? Watching her get it in the ass?”

  “God,” James says, his eyes looking directly at me. “What the fuck are we doing?”

  “Forgetting,” I say. Needing this. My ass arches into his touch, my pussy feels his cock.

  This isn’t pretty and it’s not love. It’s hate mixed with anger and it’s a primal claiming.

  His lips twitch and his finger presses against my hole, not entering, but closer. My lips part on a gasp.

  “I always wanted to try this.”

  He searches me for response, maybe to tell him no.

  “Do it then, take me here.” Just the admission that I want it has juices seeping from my pussy. It wets his cock, making it easier for him to slide against me.

  My head is swirling—my mind a mess.

  His finger presses again. A slight burn stings my skin at the slight intrusion before he pulls back.

  “God that’s hot, the way your body just wants to suck me inside of you.”

  He glances at me again, and I see uncertainty lining his eyes. I’m sure mine show the same.

  I don’t care.

  I’ve been curious, wanting this. Now I know it was always supposed to be him. Maybe we need it angry to get past the hurdles. We need this honesty to explode the hate until there’s nothing left except the love we had. Or have.

  His dick slides into me and I groan, dropping my head. “You feel so good inside me,” I say, and his hips rock into me again, slowly.

  His finger is still there, though, teasing and pushing.

  Driving me wild.

  “Yes,” I gasp as he pulls out and slams back inside me. It’s forceful as he begins fucking me, pushing me onto my toes. My hands tightly fist the sheets of our bed and my back arches, pushing into him. “More, please, James.”

  He’s moving too slow, but he feels so good. So big and thick. I want more.

  But then he’s gone and my body clenches, searching for what he’s taken from me. I look over my shoulder to see him move to the table next to my side of the bed.

  He doesn’t look at me, doesn’t speak, he just comes back with a bottle in his hand.

  “Tell me to stop if you need me to.”

  His voice is tender, caring. The anger from earlier is evaporating and I nod, acknowledging what he’s said.

  “Please,” I whisper, the one word filling the room.

  Cold liquid hits my skin and I gasp before his finger is back, running along my hole as his dick slides back inside me. He braces me with one hand on my hip.

  But his movements are tender now, patient, and as his finger presses into my ass, I let out a shaky breath. “Yes.”

  It’s so tight, I’m so full. Both places.

  “You’re so damn tight here. I might come before I get inside you.”

  “Please, just keep fucking me,” I whimper as he adds another finger. He’s stretching me and I feel the burn of pleasure increasing. His dick inside me, his fingers. It’s all so much.

  Overwhelming.

  I forget everything except the sensations he’s creating.

  “Feels so good,” I moan, dropping my head. My arms shake and I collapse, falling to my elbows. I’m so close, my body pulsing, my orgasm tightening inside me.

  And then he’s gone, sliding out of me everywhere, and I feel empty.

  “James!” I cry, needy and breathless.

  “Tell me if I hurt you.” I can’t help but look at him, shiver underneath his soothing touch as his hand runs slowly down my spine, relaxing me. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

  I blink, tears filling my eyes, and I meet his gaze as his cock begins pressing against my hole. “I know you don’t.”

  He swallows, his breath hitches, and I nod, understanding.

  “I know you didn’t.”

  Because I do. He didn’t intentionally mean to hurt me. None of this was done to hurt me.

  “I love you, Laurie,” he whispers reverently into the air.

  I swallow because I have yet to be able to say the words back to him even though I do. I just can’t.

  This, here, being vulnerable physically, is the best I can give him.

  My skin burns as he presses against me, as my body stretches to take something larger. His crown presses in and I close my eyes. It stings worse than I thought, worse than his fingers.

  James’s hands go to my hips, holding me still. “Lay your cheek on the bed, show me your ass.”

  I obey, moving slowly, the burn growing and spreading until he breaches the barrier and is fully inside me.

  “Oh my God,” I gasp, feeling him back there. “Don’t move yet. Just give me a moment.” It hurts. It really does.

  James grunts. “Fuck, you’re tight. But God, your ass looks so sexy like this.” His hands rub against my cheeks, soothing me until the pain diminishes a little bit. The burn dissipates into something else, something better.

  It’s warm and hot and spreads everywhere, making my clit pulse.

  “Okay,” I nod, “I’m good.”

  “You sure?”

  “Yes, please, give me more.”

  And he does. He slides in slowly. It hurts but feels so good, and when he’s fully inside me, I feel his balls settle against my clit.

  Nice.

  One of my hands loosens from its tight grip on the sheets and I slide it underneath me, my clit needing attention, but James notices and brushes my hand away.

  “Let me give you pleasure. I want all of it.”

  I nod, acquiescing, and gasp as his fingers brush against my clit. He pulls out and the sensation is odd, but as he slowly begins pumping in and out, his fingers running circles around my clit with a light brush, I begin to go insane.

  “So good, so tight,” he groans.

  I can only agree in whimpers and panted breaths.

  And then I let go. I let him take me. Everything in my body goes up in flames as his thrusts become quicker, our grunts become louder, and then we’re both flying. My orgasm hits quickly, taking me by surprise, and I’m screaming his name, thrashing on the bed. Sounds I didn’t know I could make escape my throat and James is over me, his chest to my back, and his hips press into me.

  He pushes against me and as I pulse around him, I feel him come—emptying himself inside of me.

  “Holy shit.” I’m listless. Boneless.

  I can’t move and I can’t think.

  “That was amazing,” he says, and he’s panting. His lips are by my ear as he braces himself to keep his weight off my back. “You’re amazing.”

  “Mmhmm.” I have forgotten my words. I have forgotten my name. Everything in me is still beating way too fast and it takes forever before my heart rate slows.

  I can feel James against my back, and then he’s slowly lifting.
>
  “Go slow,” I warn as he begins to pull out of me. It stings slightly, but when he’s fully pulled out I feel stretched and empty. In a good way. In a strange way.

  I’m not aware enough to feel embarrassed about it, though. I don’t know if I should.

  James leans over me, his lips brushing against my cheek. “Let me clean you up. Stay here.”

  As if I can move anywhere anytime soon.

  I nod, and smile when I hear his low chuckle as he heads to the bathroom. He returns moments later with a warm washcloth and bathes my skin, cleaning me and then himself.

  “I’m sorry about earlier, I really am,” he says when he’s done. He rolls me over, pushes me back to the center of the bed. We’re still naked as he crawls slowly over me. His eyes meet mine as he holds himself over me. One of his hands moves until his thumb brushes over my cheeks. “I hate that I keep making you cry.”

  “I hate that you do, too.”

  “I don’t want you to cry anymore, Laurie. I just want us to be happy. I just don’t know how to get us there.”

  “We will,” I tell him. I don’t know how I can make that promise, except that I simply, desperately want it to be true.

  “Can you forgive me for tonight? It wasn’t about you, it really wasn’t.”

  I turn my face away from him. “I only want you to need me,” I say, feeling suddenly vulnerable.

  I don’t want to talk about it anymore. Not now. Everything we just did was so…much. I want to crawl back into our hole and avoid.

  Run.

  Evade.

  But it’s not the right thing.

  Slowly, I turn back to him. “I will never be able to forget the moment I walked into our kitchen and heard you and Becky talking.”

  His eyes flash and he flinches.

  “You need to know that, though, James. There will probably never be a day in my life where I simply forget it.” I reach up, needing to touch him. My hand molds to his cheek and I attempt a smile, but it feels forced. I’m too tired of forcing things, so I stop trying. “But I do want to forgive you. You just have to let me have my anger while I do it, too.”

  “I know.” He nods, and lowers himself until our noses are brushing. “I just want to move on from all of this.”

  “It will take time.”

  “I will give you however much time you need.”

  Our earlier anger is the first time we’ve let it all out, but somehow, between the screaming and the sex, I feel better.

  Maybe getting it all off our chests in shouts and wild fucking helped. We certainly weren’t helping anything with the polite deference we’d been doing for the last week.

  He rolls me to my side, his back to my chest, fusses with the covers until we’re under them, and holds me tight.

  His breathing evens out and I think he’s sleeping when I whisper what I know he’s been dying to hear.

  “I love you.”

  His breath hitches, and then his lips are at my ear. “Thank you. I love you, too.”

  Elissa’s smile is patient. Her legs are elegantly crossed and her posture is relaxed in the chair in front of James and me. Our session is almost over, and we’ve gone over the last few weeks, telling her that we’ve decided to try to work on our marriage, that I’ve decided to invite him back to our house.

  Most of our updates have been met with quiet hmms from her, and slight head-nods. I have no idea if she agrees with the decisions we’re making.

  A part of me wants her to hand us an outline. Points one, two, and three, sub-points A, B, and C, that tell us exactly how to forgive, move on, get over this massive hurdle we face.

  She doesn’t do that.

  “What do you need, Laurie?”

  “I need to trust him,” I answer without hesitating.

  “And how can he gain that?”

  The million-dollar question. I have no answer.

  “I don’t know,” I admit. I look at James. My voice is sad and I know he feels the weight of this. His shoulders seem heavier than they did before we entered her office. “On one hand, him quitting the firm or firing Becky would help. On the other hand, there will always be another assistant, another woman.” I smile sadly at James before turning back to Elissa with a small shrug of my shoulders. “How do I know it won’t happen again when I don’t get why it happened in the first place?”

  “Is that the only thing you’re concerned about?” she asks, her head tilting to the side.

  I hesitate before answering. For me, it’s become bigger than that. “No.” I shake my head. “All those things James mentioned last time we were here, about resenting me and everything…” I pause, stuttering over my words and my thoughts. Next to me, James reaches out and covers my hand.

  “I’m sorry,” he murmurs.

  I waver, trying to put the pieces of words I want to say into a linear thought, but it’s all jumbled in my head. A thousand-piece puzzle spilled all over the floor.

  Swallowing hard, I force back more tears that want to fall. My eyes are already rimmed with red from this session.

  “I didn’t know,” I say, choking over the thought. James squeezes my hand, and I return it, needing some small connection to him. “I didn’t know he was unhappy. I thought everything was perfect, I guess, or that we’d always be perfect. Hearing that he was unhappy or upset and was able to act like things were just fine when around me…that scares me.”

  Biting my lip, I look away to the floor. It’s speckled Berber, grays and blues in an office filled with calming grays and blues. The colors jump at me as silence falls in the room.

  “I think this is probably an excellent place to pick up next time.”

  My gaze snaps to Elissa and my eyes widen. “What?”

  She smiles. I’m beginning to despise her friendly, patient smile. “Perhaps you two can spend some time this week talking, considering what you would like to see your marriage look like in the future—how you can communicate better—and next week when we meet we’ll discuss that, bring some options to the table.”

  “I thought you were supposed to tell us that.”

  Her smile turns patronizing. Or polite. Either way I have the sudden urge to smack her and scream “Help me, dammit! Help us!”

  “Counseling is more about being able to speak your issues and concerns in an open, nonjudgmental environment, Laurie. This room is where you can voice your pain, knowing everyone is listening. I can’t give you an outline or a program because everyone is different. And sometimes, being able to talk things out, aloud, helps the most.”

  I fume, flash her a face that tells her I don’t like her answer. “I want the program.”

  Next to me, James laughs. Elissa does the same.

  “I know. But this will work, too. I promise.”

  I take her word for it, thankful that we’re at least ending on an awkward laugh instead of me barreling out of her office like my ass is on fire.

  After our goodbyes and scheduling our next appointment for the following Friday, James leads me outside.

  We hit the fresh air, and I think both of us breathe long and deep for the first time in an hour.

  “Is it always going to be that hard?” James asks. His wipes a hand down his face as if he can erase the tension and nerves we’ve both had.

  I frown, seeing him so emotionally wrung dry. “I didn’t mean to make it seem like this was a bitch on James night.”

  Showing him I mean it, I take the few steps between us and walk toward him, roll to my toes, and wrap my arms around his shoulders, clasping my wrist with my other hand.

  He drops his head to my shoulder, his hands go around my waist, and he holds me tight against him, releasing a shuddering breath that I feel throughout his whole body.

  “I feel like such a fucking ass.”

  My hands run through his hair. He still hasn’t gotten it cut, and I grin into his chest. The longer length is beginning to grow on me. I like seeing James a bit messy, a bit imperfect.

  “I need
ice cream.”

  I feel his quiet laugh against my skin. “And a horror movie?”

  I grin. “Yes. Perfect.”

  He releases me, entwines our fingers together, and tugs me toward his car. “Game on. I know just the place.”

  He doesn’t have to tell me we’re going to LemonDrop. It’s a self-serve frozen yogurt place where you fill your own bowlfuls of deliciously flavored frozen yogurt. Healthier than ice cream, until you end up with a pint of six different flavors that should be disgusting together but somehow mesh perfectly once you add on gummy bears, sprinkles, chocolate sauce, and a thousand other toppings.

  It’s the mecca of frozen desserts.

  One of my favorite places in the entire world.

  My heart flips happily inside my chest knowing James not only knows but remembers these small little things about me. The little ways to make me smile and show me he cares.

  If only fro-yo could solve every problem.

  I’m lost. Floundering a little bit.

  In the two-and-a-half weeks since I emptied my desk at ParaMed, I’ve done nothing except pace around my house, trying to figure out what I want to do with my career now.

  Online searches for new jobs have brought very few prospects to my mind, and considering my only true experience is being an Executive Assistant, my confidence to do anything else has taken quite a large hit.

  As I sit on a blanket in the park in the middle of the afternoon, I can’t even bring myself to smile as I watch hundreds of families and couples enjoying themselves, splashing in the water, building sandcastles on the beach.

  The sun is shining bright and the breeze is light, giving just enough cool air to keep from feeling sweltering hot in the summer sun.

  But my mind is elsewhere. Like so many other things, nothing is yet firmly settled.

  James and I have spent the last week talking since our meeting with Elissa. A lot of talking.

  We’ve talked so much my throat feels hoarse and dry by the end of the night and we haven’t just talked about our marriage and what went wrong, but spent the hours together trying—really trying—to be with one another.

  And at night, we come together in better ways. Physical ways.

  So we’re better.

  Moving forward.