Commitment

by K. M. Golland

  ‘So you said.’

  An overwhelming desire to grab her, throw her over my lap, rip her underwear down her legs and slap her arse, hard, came over me. And fucked if I knew where it’d come from, because I’d never had the urge to punish her as much as I did now. Jesus! I need to get a hold of myself.

  I cleared my throat and leaned towards her, hoping my new position would allow my rock-hard cock to find extra space within my pants. Now was not the time for sex; she’d rip me a new one for even thinking it.

  ‘Well … I do like it. I’m not lying.’

  She looked away. ‘Okay. I believe you.’

  ‘Tash, stop trying to dismiss me. I’m not finished.’ I traced my finger along the hairline of her forehead, collecting one of the loose pieces covering her eyes. ‘You need to know that every time I looked at your hair when it was long, every time I touched and smelled it, I was reminded of how we met. How I’d stopped you from getting it cut, and of how I became the luckiest man alive, because I got you!’

  She gasped then raised her hands defensively. ‘Sorry. That wasn’t a sniff.’

  I chuckled. ‘I know.’

  An unusual silence fell upon us as we stared into each other’s eyes. It felt strange, almost uncomfortable, as if we were in those early stages of discovery once again, which, of course, didn’t make sense.

  ‘I’m sorry I cut it without telling you first. I knew you loved it long, I just didn’t realise why. Had I known, I wouldn’t have cut it.’

  ‘It’s your hair, love. You can do what you want with it. I guess I just felt that by cutting it, we were cutting what made us. I felt that it was my job to protect it, like I had back then, and that I’d failed.’

  She burst into tears and took my hands in hers. ‘No. NO! You didn’t fail anything. And we haven’t cut what makes us. That’s in here,’ she said, placing my hand over her heart. ‘And that can’t be cut.’ Tash scooted closer and wrapped her other arm around my neck, pulling my mouth to meet hers. ‘I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.’ Tears were streaming down her face and falling onto mine as she sobbed against my lips. ‘I love you today.’

  ‘I love you every day,’ I said, moving my lips to kiss her eyes.

  Tash’s grip on my body tightened, and she sucked in a few deep breaths, instantly stopping her tears. My heart hammered in my chest as she pulled back just a little and pierced me with her eyes, her stare more intent as she slowly moved our hands from their spot just above her heart to cup her breast.

  ‘I want you,’ she whispered, squeezing my hand and coaxing my fingers to knead her skin.

  My dick hardened, straining against the confines of my pants. I wanted to fucking help its cause and set it free, but Tash was one step ahead, letting go of my neck and dropping her hand to my waistband.

  ‘Now!’ she hissed.

  Her desperation fuelled a fireball of emotion that had been building from the moment I stepped into the room, but more so because I hadn’t seen this hungry side of her for a very long time.

  Holy shit! Bryce and Derek were right.

  CHAPTER

  15

  TASH

  Every single emotion I’d buried deep within burst out of me in the form of tears, anger, love and need. All of it was too strong to keep contained, or I was too weak and no longer able to pretend everything I’d been feeling for the past few weeks was typical and justified.

  It wasn’t.

  I was a mess.

  And right now, I was hot mess.

  I slid my hand under the waistband of Dean’s pants, pulled them down and let his cock spring free. Whoa!

  It kinda startled me at first, the way it bobbed about like it had a mind of its own. And maybe it did; I couldn’t remember. I hadn’t been up close and personal with it for quite a while. We’d only had sex a handful of times these past few months, but even worse, I couldn’t recall the last time I’d given him head, or him me. To be honest, I wasn’t a massive fan. I didn’t like fishing his pubic hair off my tongue and from between my teeth. I hated getting cramps in my jaw and choking because there was a massive cock blocking my airway. So yeah, blowjob Mondays wasn’t something I pencilled in my calendar, instead something I subtly avoided with the likes of phantom mouth ulcers, migraines and sore throats.

  This time, though, was different. This time, as I watched his hard, shiny cock bob before me like an ice cube in a glass of fine scotch, I wanted nothing more than to put it in my mouth — as far as it would go. In fact, I found myself craving it the more I looked at it, the soft silky feeling of his skin sliding over my tongue and the saltiness of his pre-cum. Mmm …

  ‘Lie down,’ I demanded, practically pushing him back onto the mattress.

  Dean fell, willingly, albeit wide-eyed, which I assumed was because he wasn’t sure what I was doing, and if that were the case, I couldn’t blame him. Ever since becoming a mum I’d held back, sexually. It just wasn’t a priority because it was boring, because I was busy, and because my body and mind couldn’t get their shit together most of the time. Deep down I felt guilty, because Dean missed out.

  We both did.

  But not today.

  Screw you, mind. Eat shit, body. I’m going to fuck my husband.

  Sidling up beside him on the bed, I rested my head on his tummy and stared his dick right in the eye. Behave. I’ll be good to you if you’re good to me. It nodded, or bobbed. Whatever. So I leaned forward, kissed the tip and gave it a teasing lick.

  ‘Fuuuuuck,’ Dean groaned, his low, gravelly tone drawing my smile. I’d missed that sound so much, how it prickled my skin with goosebumps as it swept right through me. It was different to how he groaned when we were doing missionary. It was less strained. Deeper. It was the type of groan that held nothing at bay. Unashamed. Uncontrollable.

  It struck me in places Dean hadn’t struck for so long.

  Licking my lips, I gripped the base of his cock with my hand and fed it into my mouth, swirling my tongue over everything it could touch.

  ‘Jesus, Tash.’ He jerked against my grip but I held tighter. ‘That feels great. You’re doing great!’

  I groaned.

  He groaned too.

  But my groan didn’t sound like his. My groan was code for ‘shut up and stop talking’. I didn’t need encouragement. I wasn’t playing a sport. All I wanted was to hear him moan and groan and lose his mind because of what I was doing to him. I wanted him to crave me like he used to, not give me a pep talk — another reason why I wasn’t a fan of blowing him.

  Ignoring his condescending motivational babble, I worked him harder, feeling the onset of muscle tightness in my jaw and cheeks. It was the point in a blowjob where I’d normally give up. But again, not today — the cramps could kiss my arse. I’d only just gotten started, and for once — okay, maybe twice — I was really enjoying it. Push through it, woman. You’ve got this.

  Popping my lips and releasing him from my mouth, I gave my jaw a quick reprieve by trailing kisses up and down his shaft.

  ‘Mmm,’ I moaned greedily, ready to suck on his balls but changing my mind when I saw the bush he was sporting. Uh-uh. No way! I was keen but not that keen. Plus, I’d seen a cat cough up a hairball, and it wasn’t pretty.

  Kissing back up his shaft and away from the fire hazard below, I engulfed him in my mouth yet again and went to town, pumping my fist and bobbing my head as if I were at a heavy metal concert.

  ‘Fuck. I’m close,’ he hissed.

  I blinked and looked up, finding his neck craned and a tight expression pinching his face. It was hot. Seeing him so lost in pleasure had always been hot. But I was at that point of ‘should I stay or should I go?’ and for a woman, it was perhaps the only point in time she was happy to make a decision on the spot while under pressure. No fluffing about. No switching or backpedalling. Okay, do I stop? Spit? Swallow? Quick! Shit! Err… swallow!

  Decision made.

  I was going all out.

  And I was going to do it the good ol’
Tash way — Wayne’s World headbanging style — to ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’. I might not suck cock often, but when I did, and I was into it, I literally rocked that shit.

  Hearing operatic thunderbolts, lightning, fandangos and Galileos being sung in my head by Queen, I sucked hard when Freddie Mercury sang that Beelzebub had put a devil aside for me, holding said suction with the long note of ‘meeeeeee’ and building momentum for my rock guitar riff finale.

  My suck was strong. Consistent. And I was just about to frantically bob up and down like Wayne and Garth in the movie when Dean shouted, ‘Stop!’ and pulled out of my mouth.

  ‘What? Dea—’

  ‘Your turn. Quick!’ he panted, fumbling with my hips and flipping me onto my back. His fingers were desperate and clumsy as he undid the button of my shorts and yanked them down my legs, which was when I realised what he meant.

  ‘No!’ I covered my ladypie with my hands and locked my legs together, tight.

  ‘No? What do you mean no? Yes!’ He got down on his knees beside the bed and tried to pry my legs open, but I turned rigid and began to twist and turn away from him. ‘Tash, stop it. It’s my turn to lick you.’

  ‘No. You’re not going down there!’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because I haven’t shaved.’

  ‘So? Don’t be stupid. Open your legs.’

  ‘No. I’m not clean.’

  He held me still and spoke purposefully. ‘Did you shower this morning?’

  ‘Yes!’

  ‘Then you’re clean.’

  ‘Dean, NO! Let go,’ I shouted, kicking my foot into his shoulder.

  He stopped and glared at me, but the heated look of anger in his eyes held something I’d never seen before. They held seductive excitement and a little devilry.

  It was so unlike Dean.

  ‘Fine. Roll over,’ he demanded, not waiting for me to do so, instead twisting my body for me.

  I went with the forced motion and splayed on my front, barely gathering my bearings before I was dragged backwards along the mattress towards him.

  I squealed.

  ‘Hands and knees, love,’ he said softly but with a tone not to be argued with.

  It so wasn’t him. Who is this alpha sex beast? And what has he done with my husband? For the time being, I didn’t really care. Wherever my normal boring-sex husband was, he could stay there … until I’d come. Oh, please make me come. I really want to come. It’s been so long.

  The thought excited me and sent a tingle along my spine just as Dean trailed his finger over my clit and then pushed it inside me. ‘Ohhh!’ I gasped and then moaned.

  He pumped me a couple of times before he replaced his finger with the head of his cock and slid into me, not wasting any time and pounding furiously. I held onto the bed sheets for dear life, my body jerking back and forth, my arse slapping his stomach.

  It was hard, fast, intense … raw. It was just what I needed.

  It was also quick, which didn’t bother me when my body was buzzed with pleasure that had me closing my eyes, opening my mouth and willing myself to come for the first time in a long time.

  ‘Yes. Yes. Oh my God, YES!’ My orgasm hit me with force and my arms buckled, my face planting into the bed sheets. Dean pumped a couple times more before he, too, came, the extra thrusts causing an uncomfortable mashing of my nose and cheeks into the mattress.

  But I didn’t care. I’d come. And until that moment, I’d almost forgotten what it felt like. That was a scary thought; the notion that such pleasure could be wiped from your mind because you’d allowed it to be.

  Collapsing on top of me, Dean’s sweat-dampened body weighed me down. It was perfect. Not that I could move anyway — my limbs were in shock.

  ‘Wow!’ I murmured into the bed.

  ‘Yeah,’ he sighed.

  Laughter burst from the two of us as we lay there spent, exhausted, and probably the most sated we’d been in years. ‘Where did that come from?’ I asked, giggling. ‘I think my vagina just went into cardiac arrest.’

  ‘Sorry.’ His laughter died off. ‘Did I hurt you?’

  ‘No! Not at all.’ I turned my head to the side so that I could see his face. ‘I liked it.’

  If there was ever a look of sheer happiness, Dean wore it as he gently tucked my hair behind my ear, his chocolate eyes warm and sparkling, his smile accentuated by his teeth grazing his bottom lip.

  ‘You did?’

  I smiled and nodded quickly. ‘Oooh yeah.’

  ‘You want to do it again sometime?’

  ‘Sure.’ I shrugged playfully. ‘Why not?’

  Lying there, staring into each other’s eyes and enjoying a moment so rare that it felt almost brand new, our peaceful euphoria vanished at the sound of a door opening then slamming shut, followed by a rumble of footsteps and the words, ‘Muuuuum. Daaaaaaad, where are you?’

  ‘Shit! The kids are back!’ I shrieked. ‘Quick! Get off.’ I bucked his body from mine like a bull in a rodeo then barrel-rolled to the end of the bed. ‘The door, Dean. Hurry up, shut it.’

  ‘You’re closer,’ he said with strain, hopping, his foot stuck in the bunched-up mess that was his pants.

  ‘I’ve got more bits to hide.’

  ‘Fuck!’ He abandoned his pants and lunged for the door, tripping at the last second and crashing headfirst into it, somehow pushing it shut just as the boys arrived.

  I gasped and covered my mouth, not knowing whether to laugh or run to him. It was a decent collision. ‘Are you okay?’

  ‘Did I make it?’ he murmured from under his arm.

  Giggling, I grabbed my top and quickly popped it over my head before bending down next to his heaped body. ‘Yeah, I think you did.’

  He raised his hand for a high five. ‘Go team!’

  I slapped my hand against his and collapsed next to him, unable to hold back my laughter. ‘Oh my God! What were we thinking?’

  ‘That’s just it, love. We weren’t. And it was perfect.’

  I stopped laughing, his words striking a chord. He was right. We hadn’t thought, or planned. We hadn’t scheduled or built expectation that almost always failed. We’d just … gone with it.

  ‘Dad?’ Thomas asked, his muffled voice on the other side of the door startling me from my thoughts.

  ‘What?’

  There was silence followed by whispers and giggles.

  ‘Say it.’

  ‘No, you say it.’

  ‘What?’ Dean groaned.

  ‘Your penis looks like Snuffleupagus.’

  I snort-laughed and jerked back, hitting my head against the wall as the rumble of footsteps and the boys’ laughter faded.

  ‘Oh my God, ouch!’ I cradled my head in my hands.

  ‘Serves you right,’ he said playfully, slowly rising to his feet then leaning down and kissing me on the forehead. ‘I’m gonna go wash Snuffy in the shower.’

  Nodding, I giggled some more and watched his naked body retreat to the bathroom, his hand rubbing his head the entire time.

  And that was when my smile faltered, my chest tightened, and an overwhelming sense of guilt and dread hit me in the worst possible way. It was when I realised I might have ruined my marriage.

  Tash, you stupid, stupid bitch. What have you done?

  CHAPTER

  16

  DEAN

  Fuck me dead. I think I’m seeing stars.

  Squinting at myself in the mirror, I moved my hair from my forehead and checked the damage, finding a minor red mark, which was pretty bloody lucky considering I’d just slammed a door shut with only my head. Shit, that hurt.

  I propped my hands on the cabinet and shook my head in disbelief, chuckling as I looked down into the basin. Snufflefuckingupagus?

  Those boys were gonna be the death of me one day. Then again, maybe Tash would be; my body ached all over and I was fairly sure I’d pulled a muscle in my arse. Damn.

  I squatted, stretching in hope of relief but still smiling because what
just happened in the bedroom was well worth the physical torture plaguing my arse and head. For once I hadn’t settled for missionary, worried I wouldn’t get laid at all, and instead I’d taken the lead and tried something that I wanted, something that she’d liked.

  And that blowjob … where the fuck had that come from?

  Unable to wipe the smile from my face, I walked to the shower, turned on the taps and stepped under the spray of water, closing the glass door behind me. To say I was a little stunned was an understatement, and that had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that I could very well be concussed. No, I was stunned because Bryce and Derek had been right, which meant I needed to have another chat to them about everything else they’d told me. It was a breakthrough, and I wanted to know more.

  After cleaning up in the shower, I made my way out of the bathroom and found Tash in the kitchen, cooking. Can this day get any better? I guess it could if she wanted round two after the kids went to bed, but I wasn’t about to push my luck and suggest it. Then again, maybe I should. Damn, I really need to speak to Bryce.

  ‘What are you making, love?’ I asked, opening the fridge and taking out a beer.

  ‘Nonna’s arancini. I’m gonna freeze them. Except I’ve run out of mozzarella.’

  ‘Want me to shoot to the shops and get some?’

  ‘Nah, it’s too late. I’ve used tasty cheese instead.’ She turned to face me and screwed up her nose. ‘Just don’t tell Nonna. I’ve basically stripped these little rice balls of their wogness.’

  ‘What’s wogness?’ Thomas asked, taking a peek at the arancini over Tash’s shoulder.

  ‘It’s all things obnoxiously Italian, including you.’

  ‘I’m Italian?’

  ‘Yep.’

  ‘Half Italian,’ I corrected.

  ‘I don’t think you can actually be “half” Italian. You’re either Italian or you’re not.’

  ‘What’s Italian?’

  Tash spun to face Thomas, placed her hands on both sides of his face and groaned, lighthearted. ‘It’s a way of life. Now, don’t you have homework to do?’

  His shoulders slumped. ‘Homework sucks. Why do we have to do it anyway?’