The Reason I Breathe

by CORY CYR

  I’ll be the first one to admit I’m a selfish and greedy bastard. But honest to God, I cannot do this without her… Don’t make me, please.

  “Mr. Michaels.” My eyes snap open as my son stirs in my arms. “You can go see your wife now,” the nurse says as she reaches for Riley.

  He is fast asleep as I hand him to her. A yawn escapes me as I stand. I peek at my son as she lays him back in the incubator. He looks peaceful. I take out my cell phone and snap a photo. Regardless of the coma, I want Ryan to see our son.

  * * *

  The room has a disinfectant smell, as if it’s just been cleaned. Ryan looks exhausted. She might have been in a coma throughout the delivery, but clearly, it fatigued her body. She is extremely pallid and looks smaller. Pain cascades through my chest as I survey her. A feeling of vertigo and a rapid heartbeat take me over. I collapse into the chair nearby and put my head between my legs. Not only a loser, but also a wimp. I’m not sure I’m worthy of being her husband. In sickness or in health, those were our vows. I didn’t realize it meant this.

  What the hell is wrong with me? Why can’t I be the man she needs me to be right now? I became him in order to be her husband. That was a charade. I fabricated that guy, hoping I could fake it until she loved me. I never thought about being the person she would need. For me, it was always about want. Ryan would be saddened. I’m ashamed. I hang my head as I close my eyes, hoping I can quiet the sound of my own mocking voice.

  ~24~

  When Quinn finally dropped us off at home, I felt ecstatic. Jesus, it felt good to say the word home. We were together and we were going to get back to normal.

  Our demeanor was strained. It was as if the past few days had left residue on us, and it would take time to wash it off. We interacted as if we were strangers. Regardless of the little time we’d been apart, it seemed like a lifetime. I worried the impact of what we’d just gone through might have on us—emotionally. I really needed us to have a conversation, share a meal, and spend some time together. But you weren’t hungry, just tired. You left me in the living room, deciding to go take a nap.

  Quinn and I had previously discussed getting all of us together for dinner this weekend. We needed to come up with a plan for my mother. We also had to figure out exactly how to handle all the paperwork involving your dad’s estate. There were issues with those documents. We had to explore how to go about claiming the funds your dad had left you and me, especially when my half should go to his rightful relative, Trina.

  We didn’t want to drag my mother into this. I already had a general idea of her reaction. She would deny it, then get hysterical. It would be a mess. I thought it would be better to leave the estate as is. We’d endured enough drama, and we were in total agreement on what we should do. I’d give my share to Trina, and my mother would never be privy to information we knew.

  I crept upstairs a few minutes later to check in on you. I didn’t like the silence between us. Not being with you was unnerving. I needed you in my arms. My mouth on yours. I wanted to touch your skin, inhale your essence, and taste you. It was making me crazy not being able to be with you.

  As I entered the bedroom, I noticed you weren’t sleeping, but getting ready to take a bath. I felt dread rise in my throat. I had to know if we were okay. If we weathered what just happened. I needed you to give me a sign. What I needed and what I wanted were two different things. God, I wanted so bad to be inside you. I needed our bodies flush. My mouth was so dry I could hardly speak, and my hands were sweating as you led me into the bathroom.

  I should have been taking care of you. Instead, you had me sit down on the toilet seat, and you began to remove my shoes. As you pulled off my sweater, I could see your hunger was as deep as mine. Our pupils both dilated as we stared at each other with uninhibited desire. My body ached for you. I could feel my hands tremble as I began removing your clothes, leaving you only in your bra and panties. I reached over to turn off the bath water as you pinned up your hair. When you began to unbutton my jeans, I almost came undone. I could feel my breathing become faster as blood rushed into my cock. It was making me dizzy with want. I felt guilty being aroused.

  You discarded your clothes, and once we were both naked, I took your hand. I sat in the bath first and had you sit between my legs. Never had minor touching encouraged such hope in me. I don’t think I’d ever been this ravenous. Maybe what we’d gone through discouraged you. Had it been too much? Did knowing my mother had an affair with your dad ruin our chances? Did all of this prove to you what I knew you feared? That being with me was too complicated and maybe you should just walk away.

  As I bathed you, I could tell you’d missed my touch. You wanted me—at least sexually. The truth was this entire affair had begun with sex. Would it now end with it? Your lack of words terrified me. I needed you to give me a sign that you still loved me.

  We sat in the tub until the water turned cool. I scooped you up and bundled you in heavy bath towels. As I began drying myself, I noticed you staring. I was so hard it bordered on torture, my cock stretched to capacity, and my need to come was eminent. I apologized. Jesus, I said I’m sorry for having hard-on. I was nude; you were naked under those towels. We hadn’t had sex for days, and I apologized?

  I wrapped a towel around my waist, causing my engorged length to create a tent. I didn’t care. I watched with heavy-lidded eyes as you began to remove the towel to dress. I stopped you. I wanted you, but I needed you to want me too. I knew it was wrong to desire sex right now. I expressed these feelings. That among everything we’d just endured, the only thing I could think about was being inside you.

  I knew I should be pissed off at my mother. What she’d done was unforgivable. Madness should fill my thoughts, but the only thing that could placate me right now was you. My naivety made me believe sex would solve everything.

  Jesus, then you fell to your knees, taking my towel with you. I almost lost it. Beads of precum moistened the tip of my cock as the anticipation of your mouth filled my brain. Then you cupped my balls and ran your entire tongue along my shaft. I was gone. I fisted your hair as you took me in. My cock began to pulsate as you suckled my tip, and I felt myself coming apart. You barely had time to taste me before I spilled into your mouth.

  Once you had your fill of me, I pulled you to your feet. I had to make love to you. My body vibrated from the previous orgasm, and I reveled in the fact another one was near. I tugged the towel away from your body. I held you tightly as I saw our reflection in the mirror. Our tattoos were side by side, mated.

  I dropped down on the bed and pulled you on top of me. I had you straddle me facing forward. My shaft came alive as it prodded your entrance. I kissed the shell of your ears, then your neck and shoulder. Your body went taut and I felt your heart begin to race.

  You wanted to tell me something. I knew it was the secret you’d been holding. The one thing you concealed that burdened you and weighed heavy on your shoulders. We’d endured so much already. I couldn’t take the chance that what you had to say would break us. God help me, I kept you from telling me. Yet again. I didn’t want to know. I asked you if you loved me. I told you if you truly did, that would be enough. I didn’t care about your past. Because to me, babe, there was no past before us.

  I felt your body relax as you devoured my mouth by teasing me with your tongue. You traced the seam of my lips and the curve of my neck, sending shockwaves up my spine. I possessively reclaimed your mouth while cupping both your breasts. You smelled like heaven and tasted like home. You vowed your love for me then. You whispered it to me as you pulled away from the earth-shattering kiss we’d just shared.

  You took my cock and guided me into you. You raised yourself up just enough that I could push in deep. I barely could contemplate a thought as you seated yourself to the hilt. I stayed still, feeling your muscles contract around my dick. You felt too good to move. I wanted to wallow in this moment, knowing any motion would make me explode. Your breasts crushed against my chest, and I c
ould feel your breath on my face.

  As I finally began to rock into you, I begged you to tell me you belonged to only me. I wanted to hear you were mine and mine alone. I whispered my love for you as I dragged my teeth against your bare collarbone as I began to thrust into you deeper. I felt your pussy grip my cock with an intensity I’d not felt before as I struggled not to come. I wanted this moment to last. I never wanted to leave this place. We climaxed at the same time. My orgasm came furiously, spilling out onto your thighs. I felt lightheaded yet satiated with release.

  After I caught my breath, I lifted you off and walked to the bathroom. I came back and gently and meticulously wiped my semen from your legs. I smiled, promising much more to come. But I knew you were tired—emotionally and physically. I felt it too—the fatigue. The last week had drained me, leaving me inundated by feelings of fear and anxiety. Making love calmed some of my worry.

  I knew you loved me, but I was plagued with apprehension and suspicion. Whatever you needed to get off your conscience, I should have let you speak. By allowing you to stay silent and telling you it was okay. I was basically giving you consent to keep it from me. I ended up blaming you entirely when in reality I had sanctioned your silence. I should have believed whatever it was, we’d deal. We’d just weathered the worst scenario I could imagine. Whatever you were hiding, it couldn’t be as horrible as what we just went through, so I knew we could endure.

  Sometimes love wasn’t enough. I let my own shallow ego and apprehension get in the way of you coming clean. I just couldn’t take the chance. I’d always known deep down what you had to tell me would be bad. But I was so afraid if you told me, there would be no going back. We’d worked too hard to get to this point. Couldn’t we just pretend a little longer?

  Your stomach growled, signaling you were hungry, a sign for me to go make dinner and for you to get dressed. I wanted you nourished and well rested for what I had devised. I could say I planned to be inside you until I had my fill. But I knew I would never be satisfied. I’d always want more. You came downstairs and watched me as I made a gourmet meal of soup and sandwiches. I could tell by your stance I wasn’t the only one with carnal thoughts. You wanted more too.

  You had concerns about Trina being your sister. Frankly, I didn’t care. As long as we weren’t related, it wasn’t a problem. You and Trina had always been the best of friends; now you were sisters. It was a good thing. It felt natural. Minus the entire my mother banged your dad ordeal. I did have an issue with that visual—just saying.

  My only thoughts currently were eating this meal, drinking a beer, and having dessert. I couldn’t wait to taste you on my tongue.

  ~25~

  Those few days apart made me crave you more. I couldn’t get enough. If I hadn’t had to go to work, I would have fucked you every hour. I gave you something to remind you of me while I was gone. I nipped you on your breast and neck. I termed these love bites. You, on the other hand, called them actual bites and seemed extremely agitated when I came home from work that evening.

  You appeared hostile. I’d forgotten about the bites. I personally thought they looked sexy. You, however, threatened me with dog obedience classes that taught the art of bite and release. I have to admit you made me chuckle. I knew how to let go. I’d done it before. Now it would never happen again.

  That evening, we had dinner with Trina and Quinn to solidify our plans and go over the documents once more. We’d all come to an agreement about my mother and the lawyer. I’d also made up my mind about us. I knew what I had to do.

  I was thrilled to hear that Trina had come over during the day. You and she had dealt with all the emotions about being sisters and our parents’ affair. Both of you figured out the financial situation before we even went to dinner. I don’t think my sister was overjoyed when she found out you’d sold the Corvette. Though the car had been willed to me, technically it belonged to Trina, since she was the actual blood relative. I was satisfied after dinner that we’d all approved of the plan. I knew Quinn had more than enough money to buy Trina any automobile she wanted, so the Vette was no longer an issue. I was going to give my share of the money to her. I wasn’t interested in the funds or the car. I had everything I ever wanted the minute you came back.

  * * *

  The next few weeks were busy for us. I had major renovations planned for the house, especially our bedroom—since we were going to be spending quality time in that room. Truthfully, if I didn’t have to work, eat, or sleep, I’d just tie you to the bed and take you at will. But since that wasn’t a feasible plan, remodeling the bedroom would have to suffice. Between the excess mess and the abundance of noise, it felt like it took the workers forever to complete the task.

  Quite a few changes occurred during this time. I decided I wanted to take over the veterinary practice when Dr. Hansen retired. I was almost finished with school. It had been a long five years of part-time education, but I felt as though I was now ready. Taking care of animals seemed my vocation, and it wasn’t only good financially, but rewarding as well. I wanted you—us—to have security. I wanted you to know I could provide for you.

  Trina and I finally decided after much debate to put our mother in an assisted-living facility. It was nearby, and Quinn had vetted the place thoroughly. I never went to see her without Trina. I couldn’t. I suppose realistically, it was naive of me to blame her for everything. She was ill. But deep in my heart, I wondered how sick she’d been when she had the affair. I’d been making excuses for her for years and still didn’t want to believe she’d been cognizant of everything. I didn’t believe she was ill when she had Trina. Years later, she’d been clever enough to devise a plan to save her daughter.

  I’ll never believe my mother set out intentionally to hurt me. Even though she herself was abused, it never occurred to her that he would begin inflicting punishment on a son he believed wasn’t his own. He made sure my mother heard the screams or watched the damage he inflicted. I now realize it was payback. I paid for her infidelity.

  Ryan, I have guilt. A part of me wishes it hadn’t been me beaten, battered, burned, and bruised. When I found out the truth, I allowed myself to wish it were Trina in my place. It was only for a second. But it makes me feel like shit. What kind of person does that make me? What kind of brother? The truth is no matter what I went through, now I can view it as a sacrifice. I did it to save my sister.

  I have more than physical scars, baby. It did something to my mind. I have demons. They aren’t dark like my father’s, but I do carry them. There are times they bubble to the surface. When I feel them rise, the only thing that can save me is you. I shouldn’t put that burden on you. It’s not your job to save me; it’s mine to save you. Can you need someone too much? I feel my world is dependent on whether or not you love me. I’m scared, down to my inner core, if you leave me, I’ll never be able to go on.

  If you didn’t come back, I would still be daydreaming what if. I would still be wondering what it would be like if you were mine. I’d fantasize about kissing your mouth and being inside. Now that I’ve drunk from that well, my thirst will never be quenched. I’ll always have to have more.

  When I came home that evening, the workers had left, the house was warm, and you looked tasty as hell. I was starved. You and I walked through the empty rooms, surveying what the contractors had accomplished, and I became famished. I pinned you against the wall, caging you in my arms as I nibbled around your ear. My cock throbbed as I unzipped your pants. Once I had them down to your ankles, I made haste and dragged my tongue along your body. I could smell how hot you were for me.

  I went down on my knees, suckling the material of your thong. God, you were wet. Your panties were drenched and your sex eager and ready. My mouth began to water just thinking about sampling you. I licked my lips in anticipation. I coaxed your thighs apart and taunted you with kisses and bites. I nuzzled the small patch of hair you had, and my cock went into overdrive.

  I spread your legs farther apart as I separa
ted the folds with two fingers, laving my tongue around your nub. I was mesmerized by the sounds of my fingers going in and out. Your juices began dripping along my hand as I nipped your clit, causing your legs to buckle. I pushed myself against you to add support to your body. I began licking and sucking then darting my tongue in and out while gently skimming the outside edges of your pussy. You became so excited your clit became hard and distended, which drove me wild.

  I felt you pull my hair in frustration. You squirmed to push me away, bellowing how sensitive you were and you needed to come. Baby, I wanted to come too. My dick was smashed in my jeans, almost creased in half. Fuck, when you came on my tongue, it was like a rush of life-affirming liquid running down my throat. My entire body tightened like a bow as I lapped it up. I never knew taste buds could explode until I savored you.

  I felt you shudder over and over again, then slump against the wall. You murmured, “I love you,” then began to sob. I wanted to believe the orgasm was so intense you were overcome with emotion. But I knew that wasn’t it. I’d given you many earth-shattering releases and none of those had filled you with such sorrow. I had no doubt it was that dark anvil waiting to crush what we had. When you cried, my reaction was trepidation. I tried to ignore your plight by making light of your discomfort, but the fact was I was once again smothered with fear. I helped you put on your clothes, then scooped you up and deposited you on the sofa in the living room.

  We needed pizza and beer. For whatever ailed us, that was the cure. I handed you a bottle as we waited for our meal to arrive. I sat on the couch nonchalantly and asked you about your emotional outburst. You shrugged it off as if it had been nothing. You blamed it on hormones, caught up in the moment. Briefly, I had a thought maybe your outburst wasn’t about your past this time. I mean we’d fucked a lot. The pill wasn’t one hundred percent. I grinned like an idiot. Jesus, I acted like a woman trying to trap a man. I asked if you could be pregnant.