by Jade Stone
“Because it took me this long to realise it,” he finally answered. “I know why you left. I’ve never hated you for it.”
It was now my turn to take my time answering.
“I know why you forced me to leave,” I said, quietly. “And I don’t hate you for that.”
“You should.”
“How could I, when I know what happened to you?”
I could tell I had hit a nerve. A very exposed one. His jaw clenched and his knuckles turned white around the glass, but he wouldn’t look at me. He rose to his feet and turned his back.
“What the hell are you on about now?” he asked, still with his back to me.
“John, you can lie to everyone else, and you can lie to yourself. But you cannot lie to me...”
I could see his shoulders stiffen. He gulped down almost the entire glass of whiskey.
“I shouldn’t have come here,” he said, going to get his hat.
“But you have. You are here, and now you’re too drunk to drive, so why don’t you stay?”
He still wouldn’t face me, and remained silent. When it became clear he wasn’t going to answer, I decided to press a bit more.
“Who was it, John? Who did this to you...?”
Now he did turn around. He looked enraged as he pointed a finger at me, stumbling as the whiskey began to take hold.
“Fuck you, Carey!” he yelled. “You don’t know shit!”
I ignored his outburst.
“Why didn’t you invite your mother to our wedding, John?” I pressed.
He clenched his eyes shut and put his hand over his face.
“It was someone she knew, wasn’t it?” I said, pressing further. “The person who did this to you... And your mother did nothing.”
His knees gave way, and he collapsed back onto the sofa across from me, covering his face with his hand. I knew then that what I had suspected for all these years was the devastating truth. I decided I wouldn’t say anything more. I couldn’t. I felt my heart melt for him, for his agony and his pain. And I realised that I still loved him with all my heart. I had never stopped loving him. My former contempt toward him now transferred to whoever had caused him such suffering. I felt it seep into a seething rage.
“Are they still alive?” I asked, my voice shaking with anger.
He took a deep breath, his hand still covering his face.
“No,” he whispered from behind his hand. “And don’t ask me about them again.”
I went to reach out to him, but he recoiled from my touch.
“Who told you this, Carey?” he finally asked, still hiding his face.
“You did,” I replied, softly.
He stole a glance at me, his face questioning mine.
“Your nightmares,” I began. “I heard them. You told me how rape survivors behave with others, how they avoid intimacy and closeness, pushing everyone away. That’s why you slept on the couch. And your passion for snuffing out sexual predators...” I trailed off.
By now, I had tears in my eyes. Again, I reached out my hand, and touched his knee. This time he did not recoil, and allowed me to touch him.
“I’m so sorry, John,” I told him. “I didn’t understand.”
There was a long silence between us. I expected him to brush my hand off, but he didn’t attempt to do so. The clock ticking on the wall echoed loudly. We both jumped when it suddenly began to chime at seven in the morning, causing me to raise my hand off his knee. But before I could retreat my hand, he put his over mine. He finally looked at me, and I saw that tears filled his eyes. I realised this was the first time I had ever seen him cry. And it was the first time I had ever been able to look him deep in the eyes...
“This is why,” I said. “You are still the love of my life.”
He pulled me toward him. By then I had forgotten about the sheet I had been holding around myself, and I felt it fall to my waist. My bare breasts pressed against his uniformed chest as his lips met mine, his arms around my back holding me tight against him. I don’t know how long we stayed in that tight embrace, just with our lips together and our arms around each other, but it was the most passionate kiss I had ever had with anyone. I felt all the walls between us melt away, and I could finally feel what I had craved from him the day we met. True love.
He finally broke his lips away from mine and buried his face in my hair. His fingers grasped the skin of my back, and I felt mine rise up towards his head. I ran my hands through his thick hair and down the nape of his neck, and his lips met mine again. Our kisses became a ferocious hunger as he held me so tight I could barely breathe, and he was soon on top of me on the couch, his raging erection pressing against me through his pants. I hadn’t really been expecting this to happen after such an emotional conversation, but it was clearly what we both wanted.
My naked body entwined with his beneath his blue uniform as he kissed down my neck, his hands grasping my breasts. My nipples bulged bigger and harder than they had ever been before, as each one met his mouth and he sucked on them. The skin between my thighs had become so hot that when his hand met the flesh there, I gasped. My clit throbbed against his fingers, and my wetness easily allowed him to slip two fingers inside me.
“Oh John...!” I whimpered as his fingers hit my g-spot.
I moaned as he finger fucked me, his raging hard cock still pressing against my stomach. I went for his belt, unleashing the cock that had satisfied me and infuriated me all those years before. It met my hand, and I grasped it hard as he continued to fuck me with his fingers. I moved my hand up and down his shaft as I felt it throb against my palm, while my pussy pulsed in his hand. I lost the grip on his cock as he moved down my torso, removing his fingers from inside me as he kissed down my stomach. His mouth met my pussy, and I completely gave myself away to him the same way I had so long ago, during the few times he actually pleasured me this way. Because no one could give me oral sex the way John could. I gripped the back of his head and writhed all over the couch as he held his hands steady on my stomach, stretching my pussy up into his mouth as his tongue worked me, sliding up and down my folds and flicking my clit, then dipping in and out of me. I felt my back arch as I was about to come, but John could read my mind now the same way he could when we were married; he knew I wanted his cock in my mouth, and that I only liked to come when he fucked the living daylights out of me.
He lifted his face from my pussy, then leaned over me, directing his cock into my mouth. But I had to look at it first. I had fantasised for so long about having his cock again that I took a few moments to savour the sight of it as I rubbed it down. John had the perfect pink cock, seven inches long when aroused, which always pierced me with the perfect amount of pain before it transformed to pleasure, and was topped with a bulging head which blazed red the more aroused he became. I couldn’t look at it for long before he pushed it toward my mouth, and I hungrily took his cock in.
I closed my eyes as his cock filled my mouth, taking in the same taste and smell of him that had so turned me on, and turned me upside down, so long ago. He moaned as I held him by the shaft and sucked him up and down, ravenously taking him to the back of my throat as I clamped my lips tightly around his thick girth, his cock sliding in and out of my mouth as I flicked my tongue over his bulging red head and beneath the underside. I could feel his balls begin to pulsate when he gasped my name.
“Carey, I wanna fuck you!”
Only the thought of him fucking me allowed me to let his cock out my mouth. I was enjoying that so much that I could have sucked it for hours. He stretched out on top of me as I parted my legs, and my head fell back as his rock hard, seven-inch cock pierced into me for the first time in ten years. I let out a moan as his cock opened me up, stretching me out. I wrapped my legs around his waist as he pulled backwards, then slammed straight back into me. He wrapped his arms around my back, burying his face into my neck as he hammered into me, my pussy taking his cock deeper and deeper inside me with every thrust. I gripped the back of his neck hard as he pou
nded inside me, knowing for sure now that there was no other man I ever wanted inside me again. My pussy began to throb around his cock, gripping it harder than ever, as I was starting to hit the brink of orgasm. I felt my entire body go rigid as the orgasm hit, my g-spot going into overdrive as John’s cock continued to pound against it, and I began to convulse beneath him. I gripped the back of his head as I cried out into his neck, my body writhing beneath his just as he met his own orgasm.
“Carey!” he grunted, holding me tight.
I felt his cock explode, his warm cum erupting and seeping deep into me. John collapsed on top of me, his face buried in my neck and my hair. I lay still beneath him with my eyes closed, stroking his back, recovering from the best sex, and the best orgasm, I had ever had in my life. And we just held each other like that, something we had never done before. When he finally lifted his face, we looked into each other’s eyes for a long time, and he gently stroked my face before he finally eased himself out of me. He held me in his arms as I stroked his hair, running my hand through it and over the nape of his neck. He kissed me, then he took my hand, raising it to his lips and kissing it before kissing me on the mouth again.
“Please, Carey, don’t ever leave me again,” he whispered between kisses.
“I don’t ever want to again,” I replied, kissing him back.
We kissed for a long time, just holding each other.
“Why didn’t you tell me...?” I whispered into his ear.
“I’ve never told anyone...” he whispered back.
I felt the tears prick my eyes again. I blinked them back. We would have to have another conversation about this at some point soon, as painful as it would be. John stroked my back.
“How can we make this work this time?” he asked softly.
I stroked his face.
“Let me love you, John,” I whispered, looking into his eyes. “At least try. Do you think you can try?”
He stared into my eyes, and this time he did not try to hide the vulnerability inside his own.
“I love you, John,” I told him.
“I love you, too,” he whispered.
This time I did not try to blink away my tears. It was the first time he had ever said those words to me. During our entire marriage, he had never uttered them, not even once. He pulled me close, his mouth meeting mine. I sunk into his kisses, melting into him.
I was under no illusions, because I knew this was not going to be easy. Nobody recovers from trauma overnight. But unlike twelve years earlier, I knew exactly who I was with, and what I was doing. Despite the pain, I was with the only man I would ever love. And he was still worth every moment of it.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Jade Stone
Jade Stone is a New Zealand based author.
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