by Karina Halle
“It will change everything.”
For better.
And hopefully not for worse.
Chapter 4
Dinner at the Palomino’s was an interesting event, considering Daniel, once again, had no idea what was wrong with the rest of us. Perry was nervous about the whole thing and could barely eat, just pushed the food around on her plate, while Ada seemed beside herself with excitement, chatting away at a high frequency, and I was alternating between the two.
I have to say, by the time I’d gone through three large glasses of wine, trying to match Daniel, who’s been drinking like a fish lately, I was leaning toward the excited side.
And I don’t know if it was the wine (probably), but I was turned on as hell.
I know. I’m a fucking weirdo, and a horny bastard on my best days.
I kept thinking about what it would be like to be in that world again. The unknown. The thrill.
The fear.
Fuck, the fear got me hard.
So much so that I spent the end of dinner with a raging erection, trying to make the eyes at Perry so she’d get the hint and stop lingering at the table making small talk over cheesecake. It isn’t until I bring my foot all the way up between her legs under the table that she finally notices me.
Her brows raise.
I give her a look. She knows the one.
She frowns, most likely because she didn’t expect that look at the dinner table.
“Need any help cleaning up?” she asks her father, getting out of her chair.
Oh god, I am in no position to do the dishes, why is she volunteering us?
But Daniel just waves her away. “I’ve got it. Ada will help.”
Ada shoots Perry a dirty look but it’s too late, Perry is heading to the stairs and I’m pushing my chair back while thanking Daniel for dinner, and then I’m hot on her trail.
We’re down the hall, near the bedroom, when she turns around and eyes me suspiciously. “Are you drunk? What’s wrong with you?”
The question should be, what’s right with me?
Right now? Everything.
I don’t say that though.
Instead, I usher her inside the room, close the door, locking it shut, and then I’m on her.
She lets out a little yelp of surprise as I grab her face in my hands, kissing her deeply, walking her backward until her legs hit the end of the bed. Her hands go up to the neck of my t-shirt and she grips it, holding me back as she pulls away.
“Dex,” she says, trying to find her breath, her eyes searching mine. “What happened?”
“Everything,” I tell her, managing a smirk before the hunger overwhelms me. It starts as a building fire in the base of my balls, igniting up my spine until my mouth is on hers again, fucking her with my tongue, driven by some strangely insatiable need. If she’s caught off-guard, so am I, but like hell if I’m going to do a thing to stop it.
She moans into my mouth, and Christ on a cracker, that sets me off like nothing else.
My hands work feverishly all over her body, pulling up at her sweater, tugging down at her jeans, feeling acute desperation, like if I didn’t stick my dick inside her and come right here, right now, I might possibly die. A tragic death by blue balls.
Thankfully Perry gets over her confusion and hesitation at me mauling the fuck out of her and reads into my urgency. She unzips her jeans and tries to step out of them, but I impatiently shoved her back onto the bed.
“I’m going to fuck the hell out of you,” I practically growl at her, pulling my shirt over my head, taking off my pants. I slip off my boxer briefs, my cock standing at attention, painfully hard.
Perry’s eyes go round and, sweet Jesus, the fact that my dick still gets that reaction from her is priceless.
“Spread your legs,” I tell her, making a fist over my cock and sliding it slowly up my shaft. I have to be careful as fuck or I’m going to jack myself off with ease.
Her cheeks go pink, and that only turns me on even more. My god, I’m just torturing myself right now.
“You’re bossy tonight,” she says, biting her lip. “I like it. Just tell me what to do.”
A rush runs through me, and holy hell am I the luckiest fucker alive.
“Get yourself off,” I tell her. “Let me watch.”
Whenever we fuck, I almost always make Perry come twice. That’s the bare minimum. The only problem now is, I am so damn horny that if I go down on her right now, I’m going to end up coming into the bedspread like I’m fourteen years old again. The taste of her alone can set me off on my good days.
So yeah, this time I’m going to let her get herself off so I can fuck her hard and fast and be done with this painful, primal surge that’s threatening to pull me apart.
She moves into it fast, too. Her legs spread wider, showcasing the glistening pink of her cunt, her fingers working herself. She’s surprisingly uninhibited, considering she usually keeps a part of her guarded, even during sex, even after all this time. But I guess whatever I’m feeling right now, that buzzing in my veins, the pounding in my chest like I’ve just been injected with steroids, she’s feeling it too.
I watch her closely, in awe, as her back arches and her perfect creamy tits rise, her tight little nipples pointing at the ceiling. Her mouth is open, eyes pinched shut in concentration, and I am fucking dumbstruck by two competing feelings that are starting to merge into one: how much I love this woman, and how much I want to fuck her brains out.
My dick is a monster and I have to grip it hard, force myself to think of bad memories in order to have some modicum of control, especially as I watch her come to a climax, the tiny, breathless cries that spill from her open lips, the way she’s writhing on the bed.
Thinking unsexy thoughts isn’t going to get me anywhere. If I keep this up, I’m going to come while imagining something awful, and that wouldn’t be fun.
She’s still convulsing when I get on the bed and prowl over her, moving fast, feeling like time is running out. I steady myself between her legs and she looks up at me with big, sated eyes as I push myself inside her with one hard, slick thrust.
We both cry out, the air expelled from our lungs, and my eyes practically roll to the back of my brain. I’m buried in so deep, I swear I’m being fused to her.
But this was always the case with her.
Our connection is like no other.
And when I’m inside her, when I’m moving in her body, when we’re tangled together as one, it’s like we’re two magnets unable to keep apart. This isn’t just about the sex, about the nearly supernatural desire and pleasure that we give each other, this is about our souls. This is where they meet, meld, lock together.
But fuck it if I’m not a slave to this need to get off right now.
“Dex,” she says through a moan, her hands going into my hair, making tiny fists, trying to hold on even though I can’t be stopped, not now, not when I’m losing my fucking mind to her body.
I’m rutting into her, raw and ruthless, my ass cheeks clenching with unlimited power as I drive into her, again and again, deeper and deeper. She makes these incredible noises that are nothing short of a symphony and I’m the conductor.
“Jesus,” she swears, hands going down my back now in an effort to contain me as I thrust harder, faster. I bury my head into her neck, biting her there until I taste blood.
She gasps in pain.
Sweat pours off me.
The bed slams against the wall.
The smell of sex fills the room.
“Dex, Dex, oh god,” she cries out, clawing at my back in vicious scratches, and I can’t hold it together any longer. I feel her clench around me as the breath inside her stills.
Then she’s unleashed, quaking beneath me.
And I come so motherfucking hard it feels like I’ve been hit by a truck.
“Fuck!” I call out, my mind going black and blank, the roar of the orgasm ripping me apart at the seams. “Holy fucking FUCK.”
&
nbsp; I’m blabbering now, barely aware that my thrusts are slowing down, that I’m still coming inside her somehow, like there’s a dam inside me that won’t subside.
But eventually it does.
I collapse on top of her, trying to get air back into my lungs, my heart thundering against my ribs so hard I feel like it’s trying to meet hers.
What the hell just happened there?
We have sex a lot. Sometimes it’s freaky.
But it’s been a long time since it’s been like that.
I don’t even have words for it.
“Dex,” Perry says softly.
I lift up my head and gaze at her, my eyes trying to focus.
My god, she’s beautiful.
And to think she’s mine.
“I’m sorry, am I crushing you?” I ask, licking my lips, making a sorry attempt to push off of her.
“No!” she cries out, eyes flashing. She grabs my shoulders, holding me against her chest, the sweat of my exertion sticking between us. “No. Don’t. I just…”
“I know,” I manage to say, smoothing her hair off her forehead. I eye the bitemark on her neck. I hate that it turns me on, like I’ve left my permanent mark there. I guess a wedding band isn’t enough. “I got carried away.”
She nods slowly, her eyes resting on my mouth, my nose, searching the corners of my face, like she can’t really believe it’s me. “I didn’t mind,” she says softly. She swallows, nostrils flaring. “I can’t remember the last time I came that hard.”
I give her a wry smile. “Gee, thanks.”
“I can’t remember the last time you came like that either,” she says. “Something changed.”
“Nothing changed,” I tell her quickly.
But, of course something has.
It’s what we’re about to do tomorrow.
It’s that step into the past.
Into the unknown.
Into the fear.
And if I wasn’t afraid of spooking her, I’d probably tell her my theory.
That sex heals me, it’s a balm on the wounds I bury deep.
It quiets the chaos of my mind.
And it strengthens that bond between us when we’re going to need it most.
“Well, that was one hell of an anniversary present,” she says, as if that was to blame.
And then I realize fuck, I never bought her an anniversary gift. I thought that having a romantic night somewhere would be enough, but of course that’s not enough, you always get the wife something else nice as an extra. And now we’re not even going to the beach at all. Instead we’re going to be re-enacting scenes from Beetlejuice with her sister and the Cheeto-head.
Dex, you fucking tool. Worst husband of the year award, right here.
Oh well. At least there was the orgasm.
I pull out and roll off of her, also aware that the chances of her sister and father hearing us were quite high.
I think from the way she’s sitting up, looking sheepish, she’s thinking the same thing.
“If anyone asks, we’ll just tell them we had to battle the closet monsters again,” I tell her, slipping on my briefs. I toss her her bra and sweater.
“Dex, don’t talk about that,” she warns me, eyes darting to the closet.
“Hey, that’s all done with. You know that.”
But for how long? Her voice whispers softly in my head.
I guess we’ll see.
The next day rolls around in harmony with Halloween. The morning is foggy and dark gray, with trails of mist moving through the fir trees outside the window in the kitchen.
I’m sitting at the table, mainlining coffee, along with Ada and Perry.
The two of them are quiet as they pick at their breakfast, then they occasionally look at each other in either surprise or annoyance, which makes me think they might be having a conversation in their heads. Either way, I’m not about to get involved in their sisterly business, which seems more and more complicated by the day. Judging by the way Perry is keeping her hair wrapped around the bite mark I left on her, Ada is probably giving her shit about that.
Honestly, I’m in my own world, trapped in my own head. My thoughts are bouncing back and forth on a loop, as it happens sometimes. I have good days and bad days, and some days the medication isn’t enough, I need extra coffee to power through. Or a cigarette. Fuck, I would kill for a cigarette.
I keep thinking about two things.
One is the sex I had last night, because I’m nothing if not on-brand.
And two is what we’re about to do tonight.
As for the sex, I’m not sure what exactly came over me, but I have a feeling that it won’t be a one-time thing. There’s something in my blood that runs hot, saturating my veins like smoke, that pulls at me. Pulls me back to those same feelings from last night. The lust. The insatiable wild necessity. Like some primal, lizard-brained part of me is waking up for the first time in a long time and it only has one need.
And that’s to fuck.
It’s not some vague feeling either. It’s specific in its want.
It’s focus is solely for the woman sitting across from me, biting into a piece of toast, her eyes going to the window and taking in the rolling fingers of fog.
That’s who I want.
More than anything.
And I know I have her…I know I do. That’s the funny thing about all of this. Perry is mine and always will be. She’s wearing a ruby and topaz ring on her left hand, the ring I gave her. The ring that symbolizes our marriage, just as the band on my finger does.
So she’s mine, I know she’s mine.
Then why do I feel…I need to keep her?
With a desperation I hadn’t felt in years?
And why does this desperation make me feel so fucking alive?
Which brings my brain back to the other thing I’m obsessing over.
Tonight.
The reason why I have goosebumps all over my body already.
Why the hair on the back of my neck is already raised, like whatever we’re about to do has already started, just by our own intentions.
Plus, I have a hard-on.
I’m a fucking mess of a man.
“Are you okay?” Ada asks me.
I glance over at her, wondering what she’s picking up on.
I give her a quick smile, adjusting myself. “I’m fine.”
She studies me, suspicious as always, then has a sip of her coffee before glancing at Perry.
Perry is still staring out the window, oblivious to either me or Ada.
“Then stop looking at her like that,” Ada says.
My brows raise. “Pardon? Stop looking at my wife?”
“Yeah. It’s weird. You’re looking at her like she’s food.”
“Food?” I pause. “What kind of food?”
Ada rolls her eyes. “Look, I just want things to go smoothly tonight, and it’s quite obvious that you’re just rolling with your feelings right now.”
“I’m not rolling with anything,” I counter. “I’m just…getting prepared.”
Don’t tell me she can hear thoughts too now.
But while I’m talking with Ada, I notice Perry hasn’t said a word. She’s still staring out the window.
“Perry?” I say softly, trying to not look at her like a fucking Big Mac or whatever the fuck food Ada was talking about.
She still doesn’t look at me.
Finally I reach across the table and take her hand.
She blinks, jolted back into reality and looks at me in surprise.
“God. Sorry, I…” She shakes her head and looks at the both of us. “I was daydreaming. There are these birds out there. They’re so strange…”
I follow Perry’s gaze out the window, across the lawn to the towering maple trees on the other side of the road. I don’t know how I didn’t notice it before, considering the branches are mostly bare, with a few patches of orange leaves hanging on, but there’s a giant flock of tiny birds that keep taking off
and landing on the trees.
The birds take off as one, like a black cape, swirling and twirling up into the air and then swoop back down, covering the trees. They stay there for a moment, chirping and bouncing along the branches, before they do it again. A blot in the sky.
Leave as one.
Land as one.
A chill runs down my spine.
I twist in my seat to look at Ada and Perry.
Perry’s expression is blank, almost dreamy. Ada looks bothered.
“I hope that’s not an omen,” Ada says.
“I wonder what they’re doing,” Perry muses softly.
“Oh good, you’re still here,” Daniel says, walking into the kitchen with a newspaper under his arm, maybe the only person alive who still reads them. He breaks up the weird vibes, with all of us snapping to attention.
He puts the newspaper down and stares at us, like he has something to say.
Then he looks at me.
I can’t read his expression, but I can feel what he’s carrying in him.
Worry and fear.
But he doesn’t know what we’re up to tonight, unless Ada has told him.
“Dex,” he says, grabbing the coffee pot and pouring himself a cup. “You’re good at gardening, right?”
Perry snorts. “Dad, have you met Dex?”
But what Perry isn’t picking up on, what she should be picking up on, is that the conversation is a ruse.
“I know some things,” I tell him, and god help me if I’m wrong about this because I know shit-all. I’ve had numerous marijuana plants over the years, and they’ve all died. Probably because I didn’t water them. Look, I can barely take care of myself.
“Perhaps you can tell me what’s wrong with the fig tree in the back yard,” he says, walking across the kitchen with his cup of coffee, gesturing with his head to the sliding doors in the living room.
“Uh, yeah, I can do that,” I say, avoiding the rapid-fire looks that Ada and Perry are shooting me.
I get up and follow Daniel, my palms sweating.
I feel like I’m in trouble.
Like I’ve done something wrong.
He’s about to go all Italian mafia on my ass, isn’t he?
I’m out of the family, just like that.