Kismet

by Sarah Michelle Lynch

  He wipes his eyes and stands up, taking tentative steps towards me. He pulls me into his arms and asks, “No, I don’t know. I still want to know everything. All of it. All their names. What they did to you. Over time, you’ll tell me, won’t you?”

  I wrap my hands around the back of his neck and shake my head. “It’s in the past. That girl, that’s not me anymore. Whatever I am now, I’m not that girl.”

  “And I’m the only man you’ve ever loved?” he demands, holding on tight to my waist.

  I brush my lips over his and taste the torment in his soul. He needs me to comfort him, so I pick words that hopefully will. “You’re the only man I will ever love. The night we got together was the most erotic moment of my entire life.”

  “Because you love me?” he asks, his eyes conveying the mindset of someone feeling wounded, tortured and in love.

  “Because I’ve always loved you, and because I wanted you. I wanted you even when I didn’t want to want you. I wanted you even when you came across as a bastard. I wanted you even when I was telling you about all those other guys. I wanted you to want me but I was afraid just how much.” My chin finally goes and it’s a full-on wobble-fest. Tears streak down my cheeks. “I wanted you to hold me so tight and love me. That is all I’ve ever really wanted… is to feel love. To hold it in my hand and know that even when I unfurl my fingers, it’s not going to fly away, just like that. I want to know it’s real even when we’re apart, and all I think I know right now is that I have never felt this way about anyone else.”

  Ruben sighs and moves in even closer, dragging me towards him. “All I want is you, Frey. I swear. You’re all I’ve ever wanted. I want you in my arms until the day I die. I want you to marry me and if you want, have my children. I love you. I’ve never been in a relationship like this before. I didn’t care for it. I didn’t want it. With you, it’s necessity. I can’t be without you. I look forward to seeing you smile. I sometimes wish the clock would tick faster just so I can hold you in my arms at night. I want to literally have you become one with me, I don’t know how much closer we can get when we’re fucking, but I need you inside my arms and in my soul. I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anything, football career included, and I will never, ever let you go. You’re mine.”

  Desire and happiness overwhelm me and I push my body into his, willing him to hold me up. Instead he unties the belt on my robe and brushes his fingers along my sides, sighing against my hair.

  “Velvet soft, I can’t get enough of you,” he groans, “the way you feel makes me instantly hard. Your curves… the way you fit against me, soft and strong, fuck… the scent of you… the way your hair feels in my hands as I’m fucking you roughly… my beautiful goddess enjoying being taken. You’re the only reason for my existence… loving you will be the only thing that matters.” I undo the belt on his robe and kiss his chest, pushing my skin against his. He smells musky and clean, aroused and naked. “You’re right, the past doesn’t matter anymore. Together we’re washed clean… a new slate… fresh start, just us. I don’t care about anything else. Just you.”

  I run my tongue between his pecs and groan, “I love you.”

  Ruben shrugs off his robe first, then mine, pulling me into him with a deep intake of breath, then a long, slow sigh. He hauls me up into his arms, carrying me to the sofa just a few feet away.

  I sit astride him, arms around his neck, my knees dug into the cushions. I’m tipped forward slightly, my chest resting snugly against his. Ruben’s hands are holding my bottom, patiently waiting to see what I might say or do next.

  “Have you ever done anal sex?” I ask, hoping he wants to do it, too.

  “I haven’t.”

  “Why not?” I ask, my belly pressing against his rock-hard cock, my wet pussy agape above his spread thighs. I’d only need to shift up a little to slide him into me.

  He reaches out just one finger to rub the skin near my anus, his eyes wide with desire.

  “I’ve either been too big,” he murmurs, “or I’ve never stuck around long enough to make it work in that way with a partner.”

  I lick my lips and groan when he strokes his hands over my bottom and along the backs of my thighs.

  “You mean, you’ve never really been intimate with a woman? Not really.”

  I bite into his top lip and wait for his response. Putting my hand over his heart, I feel it beating and rumbling in his chest, thwacking against his ribcage… because of me.

  “I never shared real intimacy with any woman… until you.”

  I move in even closer and lick into his mouth, kissing and then nipping, teasing him until he’s panting. “I want you in every way, Ruben. But first I need to be really wet. I need to ride your face, baby. If you’d like.”

  He swallows hard and his eyes flutter shut. “I’m yours.”

  I stand on the sofa cushions, my feet either side of him. Ruben leans his head back and looks up at me. I bend my knees just a fraction and grab hold of his hair and the back of the sofa.

  “Oh, fuck,” I scream, his tongue sliding into my seam.

  “You’re drenched.” He smooths his hands along the backs of my thighs and encourages me closer, holding my butt in his hands to give me more balance. With a couple more licks against my sex, I feel loose and uninhibited. I lift one knee onto the back of the sofa and push his face into me, rocking my hips back and forth, round and round, all over his face.

  When Ruben flicks his tongue inside me, I start to feel like I want to pee and try to resist. He groans and moves his tongue back to my clit, lashing my wetness over and over. My forehead is pressed to the cold wall as I come, gushing against his face.

  Ruben pulls me back into his arms, my body astride his once more. His hands are feverish with want, tugging and grasping, trying to get me to slide onto him. I pull his mouth into my neck and moan, “Ruben, don’t stop. Kiss me.”

  I slide onto his cock and grip him between the tight walls of my pussy, aching for him as I come again, my hand on my clit as he sucks my breasts.

  “Lie down, Ruben. Grab the robe. Underneath you… like that… yeah.” I dole out instructions.

  “What next?” he asks, shaking with desire and the need to please me.

  “Play with it.”

  I adopt a kind of reverse cowgirl, instead holding my arse cheeks open. He slides wetness from my pussy to my other opening before circling his finger around and around, playing with my anus until I relax and loosen up.

  When he pops his finger all the way inside, it is the most shocking thing I’ve ever experienced.

  “Don’t stop.” I lean forward and my breasts dangle against his thighs while my ass is in the air, full of Ruben’s finger. I begin rocking back and forth, asking him to wet another finger and add that. “Oh, fuck.”

  “You’re sucking my fingers in so hard, I don’t know if I’ll last long once I get my cock inside you.”

  “That’s okay, just want you in there. So bad.”

  “Me too.”

  He adds another finger and I breathe deeply, always relaxing into it.

  “We need lube. I have some upstairs,” he says.

  “No, hang on.”

  I shift a little and sink onto his cock again, soaking him with my juices. Ruben groans and forgets where his hand is for a minute, his fingers stretching me more than I’d like.

  However, I feel open now and Ruben is soaked.

  “Now, Ruben. Bloody hell, now or never!”

  “Fuck, fuck!” he yells, withdrawing from my pussy and tensing his fingers wide again, gradually slipping his cock in place of where his fingers just were.

  All of a sudden there’s just this full feeling down there and the sensation of all my muscles dragging inwards.

  “Fuck, fuck!” he crows, his fingers digging into my buttocks.

  His thighs are trembling and he’s holding me firmly in place in case I move suddenly.

  “Say dirty things to me, Ruben. Tell me. I want to know. I want to k
now the dirtiest thoughts you’ve ever had about me. I need to get out of my head while you fuck me like this.” I’m gripping his thighs and trying not to cry or scream or move quickly off him and likely injure us both. It feels crazy-tight and I’m fighting with every breath to not push him out.

  “I once imagined throwing you over my shoulder and screwing you in the alley behind our pub in Soho. In my fantasy I fucked you with your skirt up around your waist and your tits spilling out everywhere, so if anyone came by, they’d see your tits and ass.”

  “Oh, fuck,” I groan, very slowly beginning to slide him deeper between my arse cheeks. “Tell me more.”

  “I’ve had several fantasies of ejaculating all over your breasts, in your hair, across your face… like, superhuman amounts of cum, all over you, caked everywhere, your body covered in it… I thought about you glossing my cock and then accidentally shooting some in your ear.”

  I begin to knead inside and his hands tighten on me even more. “You’re so big, Rube. I want you to move, just a little. I want you to come inside me… soon.”

  His breathing becomes erratic as he very gently moves a little inside me, barely at all really, but enough we both know about it.

  “I’ve imagined other things, Freya… stuff I’m not sure you’d want.”

  “Oh, god, just tell me. I’m gonna come any second,” I warn, mashing my clit with my fingers. “I want you to move inside me when I’m close and fire that river of cum you’re holding onto, okay?”

  He slaps my bum and groans loudly, grunting and cursing as he begins jutting into me just that inch, in and out, in and out.

  “I’ve thought about tying you up, a lot…”

  “You have?”

  “I’ve thought about it often, yeah.”

  A shot of adrenalin spikes my heartrate and I cling to whatever I can grab a hold of. “Please, tell me more. Tying me up how?”

  “Not like so you couldn’t escape, just so that you’d be restrained and open to me… so I could do what I want. I’d dress you up in nice silk underwear and stockings and lick you until you can’t take anymore.”

  “Ruben…” I hope he knows how close I am now.

  “I’d make you lick all the cum off your big tits before fisting you…”

  I’m on the cusp, dying for relief. “Yes… what else?”

  “I’d spank you, pour hot wax on you. Make you crawl around for me. Plait your hair and drag you around by it. I’d make you get on your knees every day for it and beg. I’d make you mine,” he growls, before shooting deep into me, so deep it takes my breath away. On his final push, he buries himself completely inside me and my belly crunches inwards, grabbing onto him, my pussy and rectum pummelling him from all sides.

  He howls his release while I cry tears of pain, joy, relief.

  “Fuck, I can get all the way in like this,” he says, his fingers touching me briefly as he grabs the base of his cock and slowly withdraws.

  Everything burns and prickles as he leaves my body and I shut my eyes and wrap my arms around myself. Ruben pulls me backwards and spoons me on the couch, dragging my robe off the floor to cover us both.

  He holds me tight and breathes heavily against the nape of my neck. I’m shaking unbearably while he’s roasting hot and the most comforting thing I’ve ever known. I want to cry, demand he explain why he took so much of me, and yet I willingly gave it and would give again—but it’s hard processing all of these different feelings at once.

  “Did I freak you out?” he asks.

  I don’t respond.

  “Are you… okay?” are his next words.

  “I’m processing,” I whisper. “I’m okay. Just hold me.”

  “We don’t have to do… all those things… I was just… they’re fantasies, Freya.”

  “Ruben, shut up and hold me.” I lace my fingers through his and wriggle back into him, loving the heat and solidity of him. “Just hold me.”

  He’s silent and kisses my shoulder, then my hair, his limbs and body sinking into slumber behind me.

  “Ruben?” I ask, just as he’s beginning to fall asleep.

  “Yeah, bub?”

  “I think that was pretty good for our first try.”

  “It felt fucking amazing.”

  “Don’t let go now.”

  “Never,” he whispers, wrapping me even tighter in his arms.

  He makes some satisfied noises as he holds me, our wounded hearts potentially beginning to heal.

  Then just as I’m about to fall asleep, I shudder awake as if from a dream about falling.

  I almost forgot.

  What about Freddie?

  Does Ruben somehow blame him for Laurent’s death?

  Do they have beef?

  Did I inadvertently scupper Ruben’s plans to ruin the wedding that night by going over to speak to him?

  I now understand my mother a little more; it’s just that all these years, I didn’t see that she actually loved my father, but of course she must have done to have papered over all the cracks.

  Right now, a bit of papering seems a much more attractive prospect than asking Ruben about his beef with Freddie.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Red Daggers

  In the middle of the night, I wake to find myself in bed, lying on my front and bursting for the loo. At some point he must have carried me to bed but I have absolutely no recollection of that. I scramble for the bathroom, padding there naked, then piss like a racehorse (not for the first time since embarking on this relationship with Ruben). While I’m on the toilet, I wet some tissue under the tap to clean myself up a bit. Everything’s a little tender but I’m not as broken as I thought I would be. A girlfriend once said she had piles after anal sex, but maybe her partner was too forceful.

  Back in the bedroom, I find Ruben asleep on his back, arms thrown over his head. He seems untroubled in sleep. I climb in next to him but it’s a big bed and I’m careful not to disturb the mattress too much. When he doesn’t stir, I leave him to his dreams, even though I’d love a cuddle right now.

  I lie on my side facing the other way, wondering about Freddie. I had myself convinced earlier that I could leave it, but I don’t know if I can. I guess there’s one way to find out a little bit more information… and it’s sitting on the nightstand next to me.

  I shield my phone screen beneath the duvet so as not to wake him. Scrolling through my rarely used Facebook feed, I see nothing unusual. The world still keeps turning, eh?

  I type in Debbie’s name and her profile pops up. We’ve been Facebook friends for a while, since before the wedding, purely because my father’s side of the family loves to be in each other’s pockets. Funny, really, because I never post on Facebook—I’m just there to spy on them, not the other way around.

  Anyway, I discover Debbie posted only yesterday…

  Let’s see, then.

  Seems she posted a picture of herself holding a pair of twins… toddlers. Freddie is also in the frame, posing with his wife and kids. The caption reads: Where does the time go?

  As I study the twins, they’re unmistakably Freddie’s—both ginger, with those huge bug eyes, baby blue in colour.

  As I study Freddie, I see hints of Fred Snr. If you added some grey hair, a thick ’tache and slightly bushier eyebrows to Freddie, you’d have Fred Snr. You’d have to be blind not to see the similarities, so I’m thinking Ruben is more than aware of the fact he has a half-brother.

  One thing’s for sure, my mother has herself convinced that Ruben is as bad as Fred, if not worse. She’s told herself that Ruben showed up at that wedding to cause trouble, or maybe worse—to harm someone. Yet there they are, on the screen, a happy family living their lives—all while Laurent rots in the ground. Even if Ruben would love to exact revenge, he hasn’t done anything to hurt Freddie. Maybe he did show up at the wedding determined to cause a scene—fair enough—but hurt anyone? Or start a fight? It’s not his style. Besides, it didn’t take much persuading to get him to have
a drink with me that night. Whatever he was planning to do that night was thrown out of the window the moment I approached him and struck up conversation. The way my mother phrased things earlier, it was like she couldn’t have me living at home anymore because I’d chosen to be with an axe murderer or a child snatcher or something. It doesn’t make sense. There was no arguing with her, either. Usually she’d apologise on my father’s behalf and say he doesn’t know what he’s doing half the time, but this once she’s jumped on his theory about Ruben and ridden that thing like a trooper.

  I’m not blind, though—not turning the other cheek because I love Ruben. I know there are questions still to be answered. I guess the night I met my love, he did seem tense before we got talking, didn’t he? I remember now… he was on his phone, seemed angry, and didn’t want to be there but was for some reason.

  Scrolling through Debbie’s posts, nothing whatsoever springs out as unusual or suspect or telling. There’s nothing about trying times or knowing who your friends are… nor any of those other vague posts which allude to a relationship gone bad, then fixed again. Nothing like interference in her life or anything like that. She also seems as abhorrently infatuated with Freddie as she was on their wedding night. There are two brats to prove it.

  I have to remind myself, this is what my father is like. He takes seeds of doubt and sows them in anyone who will listen, but especially my mother. The hard reality of it is, he just wants rid of the daughter who might show him up in public for what he really is. He doesn’t want to see me happy with Ruben. He never will. He’s been waiting for the right opportunity to get rid of me.

  I switch my phone off and return it to the nightstand, rolling over and into Ruben’s arms.