Damage Done

by Virginia Duke

  He stared down at her, the smell of alcohol heavy on his breath. She stared back defiantly, determined to leave and continue this conversation when his head wasn't clouded with liquor and grief.

  "No, pussycat, we'll do it now. Come sit, I've saved the best seat in the house for you," he said, leaning over and picking her up with ease, as if to carry her over the threshold.

  He sat with a thud on his leather sofa and held her in his lap, draping an arm across her legs to keep her from leaving.

  "Dylan," she said, annoyed, "This isn't you, you're drunk and hurt and angry and I understand, but let me up so I can leave.”

  “Am I scaring you?"

  "No, you're not," she said, "Now let me up, I'm leaving."

  He settled his arms in a little tighter, his eyebrow shot up, his head cocked to the side as he studied her face.

  "No, I'm not letting you leave. I want to ask you something."

  "Just ask me already, I want to get up."

  "Why were you with that guy in San Antonio?"

  "I don't know," she said impatiently, this wasn’t the time to discuss it, “Because I was sad, I needed an escape."

  "Were you fucking him?"

  "I didn't start fucking him until after I thought you’d left me, Dylan. No, I wasn’t fucking him then."

  He watched her, nodded his head, "So, you fucked him later?"

  She sighed, tried to push his hands from her waist and legs, her annoyance rising, "Goddammit, Dylan, let me go."

  "Or what?" he laughed, "You're going to break up with me again?"

  She stopped trying to break his hold and looked into his gentle and handsome face.

  "I'm sorry for hurting you."

  "No, you're not. You blame me," he said. "You only remembered the bad between us, you never were able to focus on the good. That's what's wrong with you, you love to be miserable. You believed your mom because you expected bad things to happen. And now you won't leave him to be with me, because you love to be miserable."

  "That isn't true," she argued, "Or I wouldn’t be here."

  "Oh, it’s true, when things aren’t going your way, you race off in search of an escape, right? Then you run right back to being miserable. That guy you started fucking was an escape, right? And then you ran right back to being miserable."

  She started yelling, angry then, pushing at his hands again to release her, "That isn't true, I wish I had an escape, I was desperate for an escape, I was desperate for something good that would keep me grounded and hopeful and fearless and happy. I didn’t come here so you could treat me like shit. And you don’t have to understand why I started fucking him, you can look at me like I was an idiot, and judge me or hate me or whatever you want, but you have no idea what I lived through. Yes, I fucked him! Yes, it was an escape, I did it to forget about you, and I don’t care if it hurts you! Is that what you want to hear?”

  He released her and she walked to leave, she stood near the kitchen shaking with anger, a lifetime of never feeling heard bubbling to the surface at the opportunity to say all the things she'd never had the chance to say.

  She was a new woman now.

  His eyes narrowed and he bolted from the couch, then standing over her, he asked through his teeth, "Is that why you fucked me again? To forget about your miserable life? And when you're done you'll run back home? Am I your new escape?"

  She held her breath and considered what to say next, holding her ground in front of him as she steeled herself to maintain control, not to cry or flee, or freeze up.

  She reached up defiantly to pull her hair back into the ponytail, recalling how he'd told her not to do it when she'd first walked in.

  Rachel was done answering to him, or Kenneth, or her mother.

  "Yes, Dylan, that’s all you are, my escape," she said cruelly, “I needed a release from the misery and you gave it to me.”

  His eyes filled with fury and his hands went to the back of her neck, pulling her mouth to his. When she reached up and shoved at his shoulders, he released her and she turned to leave. But he gripped her tightly from behind, pulling her close to him, his body crushing against hers. A strong hand found its way inside her dress to her breast and his breath came hot in her ear.

  "You need a release, Rachel?" he growled.

  "Let me go, Dylan!" she yelled, confusion flooding her senses when her body responded to the lust in his voice.

  "You said you needed an escape, I'm going to give it to you," he threatened, his body pressing against her as he walked forward, pushing her towards the wall in the kitchen.

  She reached out blindly to steady herself and he held her tightly to him as he fumbled for the top of her dress.

  "Dylan!" she yelled, angry at her body's reaction to his mouth against her neck, "I don't want to do this!"

  But she did. He pressed her hard against the wall with his weight and held her breast as he slid a rough hand down between her legs, pushing her legs apart until his fingers found her wet panties.

  "Yes, you do," he growled, "You're wet as fuck, stop measuring your self-respect by how you want to get fucked, Rachel, I know your pussy, it’s screaming for me."

  The hand on her breast rose roughly to her throat until he cupped her delicate jaw and his index finger found its way to her mouth, settling between the soft lips. She bit hard but he didn't flinch, her hands scrambling back to try and push him off of her. He gripped her panties and yanked them down.

  "Dylan, get your hands off me," she said, twisting, trying to turn and face him.

  He pressed against her harder, and reached for her hands, gripping both and bringing them high above her head until he held them tightly against the wall with one hand. He kissed her neck and shoulder from behind, his free hand reaching around her hips to her mound where his fingers slid in and out of her wet folds with ease.

  "You need an escape, Rachel, your body is telling me what you won’t, it always told me what you wouldn't," he breathed into her ear, "You want to forget? I can make you forget."

  His cock pressed hard against her through his pants as he worked her cunt, stirring responses she'd never known her body craved, responses that conflicted with the gentle lovemaking that made sense in her head. She was confused and angry.

  “I own this pussy, Rachel,” he growled, “Show me whose pussy it is, take it how you need it, puss.”

  She let go, she did want to forget, she wanted to let him make her forget. And as he drove her legs further apart, her hands still held tightly over her head, she felt a new kind of release. She stopped resisting and let go of trying to control the outcome. In that fleeting moment, giving herself over to him, in accepting the pleasure he gave her, she was liberated.

  And when he felt the tension leave her body, when he knew she wouldn't resist him, he released her hands.

  "Don't take your hands down," he demanded, both hands leaving her flesh until she felt his fingers touch her already tight nipples. Her head fell back in pleasure, a small gasp escaping her lips.

  He leaned into her ear and breathed, "You fucking love that, don't you? Your pussy is begging for it, you need me to tell you what to do."

  "Dylan-"

  "Be quiet," he growled, "Just stand there."

  He pulled his hands from her nipples and a flash of panic flooded through her. She turned to face him, she needed to know what he was doing, what he was thinking.

  "Don't move!" he snapped as he pushed her hands back up to the wall.

  He drove his free hand between her legs, his fingers sliding easily into her tight core, her body shaking as he plunged deeper, driving her towards an orgasm. She moaned loudly, her breath coming fast and heavy as she bucked against his fingers inside of her.

  "Do you need to cum, Rachel? Is that the release you're looking for?"

  He let go of her hands but she kept her palms flat against the cool wall while he pulled his rocked dick out and pressed the tip into her entrance. One hand reached for her breast, the other wrapped around her waist
and he jerked her back onto the hard shaft. She let out a scream, overwhelmed by the pleasure of his thickness burying inside of her. He pulled her further onto his cock, driving into her mercilessly.

  "Is that it, is that what you needed, Rachel? A hard dick driving into that tight pussy?"

  She moaned loudly, reaching desperately to steady herself as he pumped harder from behind, his dick growing inside of her.

  "That's right, take it, is this what you came here for?"

  He held the tight grip on her waist but let go of her breast and reached for her hair, pulling her head back to him, his voice in her ear made her quiver, "Open that pussy up and take it."

  Her body fell limp as she came, her cunt convulsing hungrily as he drove his raging dick in and out of her, one long moan filling the room. He ravished her until he ripened, pulling her to the root as he pulsed with climax, his hands holding her roughly to him until it was over, and he withdrew slowly, steadying her against the wall, her breathing labored and her legs weak.

  "Don't move," he said, one last time.

  He reached for a dish towel in the drawer and gently wiped between her legs, an act of intimacy she’d never experienced. He threw it to the ground and leaned over her, his hands high against the wall over hers.

  "I bet he never fucked you like that," he whispered hoarsely.

  And he walked from the room, leaving her alone and bewildered, her body spent.

  ***

  Her thoughts raced and nervousness invaded every deliberate breath, slowly inhaling through her nose, then exhaling through her mouth, trying to stay grounded and keep herself calm.

  What had she just done? She had to make her world stop spinning, she had to take control again. She'd always believed strong women didn't want to be objectified, they should demand sensitivity and reject sex that took away their control. It conflicted with everything she’d valued in her work and in taking back her self-worth. What was wrong with her? Dylan had left her alone, her hair a mess, her body sore from his rough hands and rougher manners.

  As she left him now, and waited for the elevator in the hall, Rachel's stomach turned in knots, reliving how she'd reacted to him, the delicious ache between her legs a sour reminder of how her body had betrayed her, betrayed the simple tastes that she'd thought defined her.

  She loved Dylan, she'd known it her entire life, and she'd known it as he fucked her, destroying her sexual identity and leaving her body screaming for more. He'd been demanding, vulgar and remorseless, and she'd never felt more urgency for sex so wholly obscene. But then he’d left her there, and confusion and shame flooded through her. She had to leave.

  “Rachel!” Dylan yelled from down the hall. She looked to him as he ran toward her, his hair wet from the shower, he stood over her, “Where are you going?”

  “I’m going home.”

  “Don’t.”

  “Why not?” she asked shakily, “You resent me.”

  “I don’t resent you, Rach. I'm sorry, I just-"

  “This was a mistake, Dylan, we’ll never be able to forget.”

  "No, we'll never forget," he said, "But we can get past it."

  "No! Look at what just happened! You'll regret it!"

  "It was just sex, Rachel," he said gently, "I'm sorry. I was weak. I shouldn't have said those things, I was hurt. I thought I wanted to hurt you. I'm still adjusting, too. But, regrets aren't worth it, puss. We’ll always have regrets about the past, but we can find a way to deal with it, the past will heal itself over time. But regretting what we don't do from here on out? Those are the regrets that never leave us, the things we wish we'd done differently. I won't fear the future. It's no way to live. Stay with me, Rachel."

  The elevator door opened and he stood silent, giving her the power to choose.

  Rachel stopped making excuses, stopped asking herself what was expected of her. She'd spent her entire adult life trying to play by the rules, but the rules kept changing, everything was different now. He'd been the one she'd wanted to spend her life with, the one she was going to have children with. This was Dylan, he belonged to her.

  For the first time in sixteen years she didn't tell herself it was wrong to feel the way she did, she didn't ask herself if she was deserving enough, smart enough, pretty enough. The elevator door closed and she held his hand tightly, not because she was afraid it wasn't real, but because she needed to make up for the time that had been stolen. She chose to stop running. This was her life. She was going to live it.

  "We'll figure it out, puss," he whispered, holding her close, "We'll figure it out and then you'll come home to me, here or wherever you want, none of the rest of it matters. We'll work it out."

  ***

  Dylan picked her up and walked back to his apartment, her legs wrapped around his waist. Rachel was staying there with him, she’d chosen to stay, and he had to make it up to her. He’d been too upset about Michael, and hurt that she hadn’t come to him sooner.

  He carried her into his bedroom and laid her gently on his bed, his hand slid silkily up her thigh, underneath her dress to caress the most sensitive part of her legs, the small pieces of flesh just next to her sex. Her warm breath mingled with his, and her nipples grew beneath her dress. Dylan gently parted her thighs and teased her folds skillfully through her thin panties.

  "Purr for me, kitten," he whispered, sliding the panties to the side to touch her hot center where it throbbed for more.

  She exhaled, trying to let go for him and he pushed her to relax, moving slowly until she was moaning softly as he slid a single finger up and down her pursed lips. He helped her pull her dress off, she eased the panties down her legs and he laid her back, kissing her sweetly. He took his time building her excitement, until his thumb began its rhythmic cycle around her clit, massaging her towards orgasm, and his mouth reached down to cover her nipple. She gasped as his lips and tongue started pulling it slowly in and out of his mouth. When his fingers finally made their entry, she came, her body quaking unexpectedly. Then the tension left her and he held her naked body close to him.

  “I’m sorry, Rachel,” he whispered, “I was brutal earlier. I’m too angry about Michael, and bitter. I never want to hurt you because I’m hurting, Rachel. And I shouldn't have- I shouldn't have been so rough. Forgive me.”

  “Dylan,” she rasped tearily, “Don’t- I wanted it.”

  He looked down at her then, surprised, she was letting him in again. And he adored her for it. Whatever mistakes she'd made, however indecisive and insecure and vulnerable she'd been, Rachel deserved more from him. He'd failed her. And he'd spend the rest of his life trying to make it up to her.

  “You’re everything to me, Rachel. Then and now. I will rip my heart out before I let you get hurt again. Tell me what I can do. I need you.”

  "Dylan, I told him."

  His heart raced, relief poured over him and he leaned in to kiss. She was his again.

  She’d told her husband she wanted a divorce, and pain shot through him thinking what it must have felt like to be on the receiving end of that conversation.

  He'd destroyed another man's marriage. It was what he wanted, but it felt fucking terrible.

  "I thought you were going to wait."

  "I couldn't live with it, it wasn't fair," she said.

  No, it wasn't fair. But living without her wasn't fair, losing Michael wasn't fair. Fuck fair.

  "I'm sorry, Rachel."

  "I'm not. I shouldn’t have married somebody I could live with, I was supposed to marry the person I couldn’t live without.”

  She shared how she'd met Kenneth, Dylan listened with heartache as she outlined the good and the bad, and then relief as she told him how she’d never stopped loving him.

  He knew the conversation was far from over, that Kenneth would haunt Rachel as she'd haunted him. Moving forward, their marriage and its demise would be as much a part of Dylan's life as it would their own. It was a price he was willing to pay.

  ***

  "T
ell me about your kids," he said.

  They were laying in the tub, he ran his hands over her wet skin, his lust spent. He needed to know all of her again.

  "Hunter is eight, he's brilliant and funny, all boy. He's energetic and athletic, and loves to read. But he's bossy and squirms a lot and his teachers hate that. We've had a hard time keeping him focused, he just wants to chat everybody up. But I love that about him, I envy it, you know? Him and Lauren both, she's almost four, they've never met a stranger, they're both so outgoing and friendly. But Lauren is more than that, she's like this cunning little diva, friendly, but she'll snap your neck if you cross her," Rachel laughed, "but I love that about her, too, she's so willful and independent, and gorgeous. She's the most beautiful little thing."

  "Like her mother," he interjected, squeezing her before reaching for the soap and lathering her back and shoulders.

  "No, not like me," she said, "I mean, she does look like me, but she's got this spark, people are just drawn to her. It's hard to explain."

  She hesitated, and then asked, "What about Michael? Tell me about him."

  He ran his hands down her arms, and sat quietly for a moment. He hadn't wanted to talk about Michael, but he'd opened the door by asking about her kids, it was only natural that she'd have questions, too.

  "He's amazing. That kid has everything, he's crazy smart, you know? He never has to work for his grades, it all just comes naturally to him, science, math or whatever, he just eats it up. So he loves a challenge, anything that makes him have to use his brain," he slowed, "I bought him that old Porsche for his sixteenth birthday, the one I gave that woman, we did all of the restoration ourselves. Actually, he did most of it, he just opened up a book and knew everything we had to do, it blew my mind."

  She let the water drain from the tub, they stood to rinse one another off, and after he'd gotten started, Dylan couldn't shut up.

  They lay together on the bed, chatting for hours. Every story, every skinned knee, refusing to ski the bunny slopes because he wasn't a baby anymore, all of it came rushing out of him, he shared all of it with her. And she smiled and laughed, and when he got choked up, she wiped tears from her face.