Cherry Blossoms: A Losing His Wife Novel

by KT Morrison

  “You’re fucking crazy, Dino,” she whispered.

  Her heart beat in her chest. He’d done it. Waited in the dark to get the guy he’d thought forced himself on her. Almost killed him. “Fuckin crazy.”

  He shook his head, his mouth firm, turned down. He couldn’t look at her. His brow furrowed in meanness.

  She went to the door but he stopped her. His large hand reached over her shoulder and spread across the chipped metal and he pushed it closed. She kept her back to him, could hear him breathing behind her, feel his presence.

  “We should keep this door open,” she said.

  “Did he hurt you?”

  She turned to face him and pressed her back to the closed door. He loomed over her, tall, warm, possessive...

  “Dino...”

  His hand came up, hesitated, knew how it shouldn’t, then he clasped her neck, his thumb brushed her cheek. She closed her eyes.

  Her knees sank when he kissed her. His lips pressed to hers and her mind reeled. She slumped down the door. Her heart swelled in her chest. His other hand twisted the lock on the door, its scissoring metal gears making her belly clench.

  “No, Dino,” she gasped around his kisses. Her hands went to his sides like they’d done a thousand times. She’d loved Dino at one time. The first boy she ever loved. The only other besides Geoff. It was where her hands went when they kissed. He was hard and strong.

  Her lips returned his kisses and her palm curled the hard ridge of his chest where it met his ribs. His nipples were stiff.

  Her exhale trembled, feeling his warm familiar body under her touch.

  “Wait, Dino,” she gasped as she broke away. “What are we doing?”

  “Just kiss me,” he said.

  “No, Dino,” she whispered. This was too much. Dino was too much. He came with baggage. He came with love and loss and betrayal and fights and slammed doors and cursed names. Dino was trouble. They’d almost married, they’d almost had a family. They almost bought a house. He’d proposed...

  “No, Dino, no,” she cried but still her hands roamed. His body was her past. He felt like her youth, he felt like love and hope.

  “Oh, Dino,” she gasped as her breaths came quicker and quicker. She kissed him with passion, her tongue spread his lips and he took it. His tongue was waiting, its wet feel no different than when she was twenty. When she felt it her hands clawed his back. He pulled her to him, held her close, and she climbed him, her legs going up his thighs, his hands cradling her, helping her until they locked around his hips. He clasped her closer to him, his big hands smoothing over her slim back, and she squeezed him with her thighs.

  His cot was to her right, his big boots lined up side by side underneath, and he turned and took a step to it, lowered her back until she lay crossways on it. Her chin raised as he kissed her long neck, his hands went up her front, up her belly, and her nipples ached for him to touch them. They hardened in her bra, pressing out against the lycra. His hair was thick and full and her fingers raked through it, felt his ears and his neck, the muscles flex in his jaw as he kissed and bit at her.

  “Oh, Dino,” she sighed. Her heels locked over one another behind him.

  His hand went up her thin, black shirt and it clutched her breast and that sudden sexual feel made her cry out.

  “Sshh,” he reminded her. There were men around that would rat him out. Men that would tell his wife he’d fucked his ex right on his firefighter cot. Men that would probably fuck his wife Stacy once he was out of the picture.

  They writhed on the cot, just their lusty breaths, and fabric on fabric, and the squeal of the metal bed in the room. He kissed his way to her mouth again, leaned his head back, his eyes narrow with intent, he shushed her again and he slipped a hand over her mouth. Her eyes went wide as his other hand went inside her thigh and snuck between them where her legs clutched his waist.

  “No, don’t,” she gasped into his cupped hand. He touched her pussy through her panties and her belly heaved against him. She gasped. Her hips pushed her sex to meet him. His finger hooked under her panty crotch and his finger slipped across her wet lips.

  “Fuck, Nia, I’ve missed this pussy.”

  She shook her head No. Hoped he would stop but knew he wouldn’t. Her hand went to his belt buckle. Old habits. Knew her old love kept his big tool down his right pant leg. Knew he liked boxers over briefs because he told her one time when they were young and foolish that he liked to feel it against his own thigh. She gripped that buckle tight, stopped herself. She squeezed him with her legs and moved her pussy from him, got it so he couldn’t touch it.

  She shook her head vigorously for him, opened her eyes wide so he’d see she meant it. Dino felt so good. He was big and strong and he was masculine. He made her feel like a woman. She’d fucked him up. She’d broken him. She’d ruined them. She missed him. Missed this feeling. Missed having him between her legs. But she couldn’t. Geoff could tell her this was okay as much as he wanted but he had no clue what a bad idea this was.

  Her fingers clawed his from her lips and she whispered, “Kiss me.”

  He put his weight on her, pressed his body against her between her thighs. It made every part of her tingle with pleasure. Her knees tucked in and her heels pulled him tighter to her.

  It was there. Pressing her. His perfect cock, hard in his firefighter uniform pants, pressing her soft mound.

  “Oh, Dino,” she whispered in his ear.

  He humped her, and she built a rhythm with him, rolling and rocking on his cot. His cock surged in his pants, upright, a hard throbbing polyester column. He ground its thick stomach through the cotton cleft of her sex. Over her panties, her skirt bunched at her waist. She clawed his back and gasped his name over and over.

  When they were nineteen Dino’s parents paid for her to come along to Sicily with them and Dino. Why not? They were going to marry. But the family watched them like hawks when they were there. Separate rooms. They stayed with his mother’s family in Sciacca. After five days only holding hands their bodies were ready to explode.

  They rode two old bicycles to the beach one afternoon. They were supposed to go with his cousins, but Giuseppe and Lucca let them go off on their own, laughing and speaking zero English and knowing what they wanted to get up to. Nia and Dino ended up at Timpi Russi, a long, hot, beautiful, white sand beach. It was empty.

  They stripped naked, and they made love on the beach while the sun baked their bronze skin, and the Mediterranean licked their feet. Two nude, tanned, gorgeous teenagers doing what their young bodies needed. When she told Ang when she got home they’d made love on the beach, she’d sighed, “You must have looked like a cologne ad.”

  “Harder,” she whispered in Dino’s ear. Dino growled, his muscles flexed and his powerful hips worked against her. His massive cock strained his pants. She could feel it against her, feel it grinding her panties through her cleft flesh, felt its mass press her clit, up and down, over and over.

  “Oh, Dino,” she cried. She squinted her eyes.

  It had been five days without his passion that time in Sicily. Five days and she’d thought she would die without him. It had been seven years this time.

  “I can’t,” she cried. Seven years ago had been the biggest mistake of her life. She’d brought devastation into her life and the life of the man who was never bad to her, who only gave her good. She didn’t deserve him. She proved it that day she fucked Dino seven years ago. It had changed her life. She swore she would never be bad again.

  “Stop, oh, stop,” she said, clenching her eyes, but it was too late. Her hands clenched his ass through his tight pants and they rode his thrusts, her nails dug into his perfect rump, feeling its flexing, the gears of his lust.

  “Ah—awaah,” she blurted.

  He clamped her mouth again, his eyes were wide, he’d sucked his own lips into his mouth. He gave her long, pressing thrusts, the wide middle of his hard cock wonderfully pleasuring her swollen button. She saw his eyes tremble w
ith excitement. He knew he’d made her come. He could always make her come.

  Tears welled in her eyes and she snorted against his palm, her face pounded with blood, she felt her face go red, a wet bubble popped from her nostril.

  “What?” he whispered, his brow troubled. His hand came off her.

  “Get off me!” she hissed. Tears streamed her cheeks now, she couldn’t see. He didn’t get off her. “Off me!” she hissed, and she slapped at him, hit his shoulders and she tried to scratch his face but he grabbed her wrists and held her.

  “Nia...” he said. He pressed her still, his hardness against her soft flesh. He raised himself off her, still holding her wrists, and she sat up, pulled herself from him and leaned against her bare knees.

  “I made you come,” he whispered, and he put an arm around her.

  She sobbed, pressed her face harder to her legs.

  “It’s okay, Nia.”

  She shook her head No.

  He pulled her to him, held her against his chest. She put her ear to him and listened to his powerful heartbeat. His cock still pressed his pants out. A long thick bulge that went up to his hip, just under his belt loop under his pocket. She could see beads of her own dampness glinting on the rough waterproof polyester. She put her hand on it, her fingers together, running up his shaft. She ran it up and down, over his uniform, the tips of her fingers feeling the shape of his glans under there. She stroked him, watching her tear-blurry hand on his big bulge, not even knowing what she was doing, lost now.

  He stopped her. A big hand taking her slight wrist and holding her still. “Not like that, Nia. I don’t want to come like that.”

  She nodded. A tear fell from her chin and she watched it plop on his pants, spread a growing black spot in the deep midnight blue. She whispered, “Why do you fuck everything up, Dino?”

  “Me?” he growled.

  “Fuck, Dino,” she said. She stood up and wiped her eyes. Her skirt bunched up at her waist and her long legs were bare and cold now, standing in her heels and her sopping panties. She pulled her skirt down.

  Dino sat with his legs apart, his arms behind him, showing his muscle and his bulge, looking at her through his eyebrows. He was gorgeous.

  “Whatever happened to us?” he said.

  “Come on. Fuck you, Dino,” she said, and she turned to the door and unlocked it.

  “Nia, wait. Don’t go,” he said.

  She thumped her forehead on the door, frowned and groaned. She yanked it open, said, “I have to fucking go. I have to pick up my daughter.”

  GEOFF

  Geoff leaned his skinny butt against the black polished edge of his wife’s new convertible. He was at Sunnybrook Park and he was feeling good, waiting for the love in his life to disembark from her colourfully painted retired schoolbus. Odie was back from Camp. It was the longest ten days of his life in many ways. The most trying, the most challenging. Definitely a milestone time in his young life and he would never forget it. The last ten days had slipped a leather glove on and eased up under his ribs and kept a careful grip on his heart. Let him live, didn’t squeeze the life out of him, just held on to him, made it hard to breathe, see, think, and it wanted him to know how amazing life could be and how awful it could be at the same time. Another man fucked his wife. He watched it happen. It was awful. His wife had shown her dark side and it was pitch fucking black. Fifty fucking shades of gray? Nope. One tone, one note. Black as her hair. Black as her wardrobe. Black as her new car. She was black.

  Another black head of hair bounced and bobbed past the windows of the bus, the other raven-haired beauty in his life, singing and hopping while she waited for the other kids to disembark to their waiting parents. They’d mostly gathered at the scissored open bus doors with outstretched arms waiting for their little kiddies to hop down the three battered steps to them. Geoff eased off the BMW. Original plan was for his little O to get out and see him leaning on the new car with his Wayfarers on. To make her laugh. Her dumb dad trying to look cool. Those parents though, their reactions as they first grabbed those kids they loved so much, they got his eyes wet. He could make her laugh later. He headed to the bus and he couldn’t wait to feel his daughter in his arms.

  She was four kids back now. Skin as tanned as her mom could get. Practically bronze. Maybe lost a little bit of her softness too. She was beautiful. The most beautiful little girl in the whole wide world. She had a big piece of bristol board and she’d glued things on it, some sort of collage she’d made but he couldn’t tell what it was yet. She had friendship bracelets up both arms and she was babbling to two girls behind her and the one in front. She was a little ringleader, wasn’t she? They hugged, she and her friends, and they made promises to keep in touch and then she was coming down the steps in her black canvas sneakers and she saw him and she yelled Daddy! and ran like kids do when everything in their heart is honest and happy. She came to him with her face open and exuberant, her white teeth gleaming in the evening sun and her two arms up in the air, her purple collage fluttering in her grasp as she ran to him.

  He hugged her. He pulled her in tight and he squeezed the life out of her, his face clenched, his mouth wriggling and trying not to cry. He’d missed her so much. Everything was different now but she was the same and he needed her. “Oh, baby O,” he gasped.

  “Holy cow, Dad,” she grunted, her arms around his neck, laughing that he was crushing her.

  “Sorry, O, I missed you.”

  “Here, Dad,” she said and she held the board out in front of her, her little tanned fingers curling around the paper edges. She posed with it for him, knee bent, coy smile on her face. Her collage was made up of photos of her with all the other little girls. They were tying knots, portaging, canoeing, kayaking, dancing, wearing costumes in a play or something, arms around each other, all seven-year-old smiling faces. Innocent and uncomplicated. The best time in anyone’s life. His eyes teared. She’d drawn canoes and paddles, cut out shapes of teepees and tents and made the whole thing an amazing art project. She was a talent. So much going on in that young little mind.

  “Oh, Dad,” she laughed and rolled her eyes at him seeing him cry yet again.

  “I love you, O,” he said and put his arms around her again.

  “I love you, Dad,” she said and her arms hugged his neck and crushed his Adam’s apple against her narrow shoulder.

  “All right,” he sniffed, “all right, come see something,” he said.

  “Where’s Mom?” she asked.

  Good question, baby. She never showed up. Never texted. Didn’t respond to his texts. Mid-afternoon she’d texted that she would be running late, that they were still in Mississauga. That was the last he’d heard. What could he do? He headed here alone in her new car without her.

  “Hold on, O, check this out,” he said.

  “What?” she asked, skipping along behind him.

  He went to the car and leaned. Put his pose back on for her, the cool young dad with burgeoning mid-life issues. His sunglasses, his convertible...

  She giggled. She was unsure of his display. What was so funny? She probably didn’t get how her dad was starting to feel old, so instead he waved his hand along the car and said, “This. It’s your mom’s new car...”

  “Holy!” she yelled. She loved it. She bubbled and jumped and asked all sorts of questions and he walked her around it and she asked if Mom could drive her to school in it and he said, Around the block? She said she wanted all her friends to see her in it. Yes, baby, he said.

  “Can we go for ice cream? Can we got to Two Scoops?”

  “Yes, Odie, I want you to tell me all about your trip. Tell me all the stuff you learned. We should go back and wait for your mom...maybe she hasn’t been getting my texts, I feel like—”

  “Just text her again,” Odie said, “She can meet us there...come on, Dad.”

  He grimaced, not sure what to do here. He wanted to go have fun with his daughter, not have to worry about what his wife might be doing. He ha
ted this in some ways. Wished their sexuality could be more compartmentalized and not so messy, bleeding over into other aspects of—

  He had his phone out of his pocket now and he saw that she’d messaged him.

  Nia: Please wait for me! please wait for me!

  Then five minutes ago:

  Nia: almost there!

  And with that he heard worn Volvo tire’s rubbery squirreling as she rounded off the road, bumping into the parking lot at Sunnybrook, the nose of the Volvo bouncing. She was coming in hot.

  “Mommy!” Odie yelled. Geoff smiled. Nia spotted them and she barrelled over, winding through the regular park traffic to the bare end of the paved space where the two buses from Camp were parked. Wary parents turned to watch, clutched their children closer. She chirped to a stop, the car dipping she broke so hard.

  She stumbled out, her hair a tangled mess. She looked scattered and Nia never look scattered. Her eyes were wet and red, and she’d removed her makeup. Or someone had removed it for her.

  “Oh, Odie,” she crooned and she squat in her heels and hugged her daughter. Odie held her and Nia rocked her back and forth and she kept her eyes closed, wouldn’t look over at him.

  So, she missed her dinner, missed a fun drive in her new car, practically missed welcoming her daughter home—all so she could stay after work and fuck Rocco. Nice, Nia.

  He’d picked up her car today, spent more than half a day for her doing that. They had plans tonight. Plans with their daughter. But his wife fucked her boss. Maybe sucked him or both.

  Odie said, “You smell like cologne.”

  Nia shook her head, shocked, she said “What?”

  “Like Old Spice,” Odie laughed.

  “No, I don’t,” she said. Her chin trembled. Her eyes darted to Geoff and she shook her head No, smoothed her hair and changed the subject.

  “What do you think of our new car?” she asked her now, holding Odie away and smiling.

  Odie said, “Shotgun,” and looked to her dad and pointed a finger-gun at him, shot him and winked. “Dad’s taking the nerd-mobile.”