Sonata

by Kenya Wright

  “Jean-Pierre.”

  Her pussy hugged my cock, milking the tip and sucking me in.

  I groaned.

  And yet, I couldn’t get deep enough.

  I couldn’t fill her like I needed.

  I shoved.

  I thrust. Pulling back when I could. Taking that cock out in painful protest, but it was all part of the process—the road to our destiny—our bodies colliding. Crashing. Exploding. Stars and fireworks ringing in our heads. Our union. The togetherness that only intimacy brought through passion.

  I pumped so hard.

  A little sweat trickled down my back.

  “Oh!” she moaned.

  I grabbed her wrists, and lifted her arms over her head, as if she could escape me or my cock. She never could. Even if she tried, even if a massive army helped her.

  Mine!

  That pussy throbbed and gripped me as her groans rose in the room, probably startling all of the guards outside the bedroom.

  Did her moans make them crazy as much as it did me? For their sakes, I hoped not.

  Already, I was close to detonation. Bits of me had already begun to crumble. Disassemble. This was the only way I could let go. Inside of her. Only our breathing and moans rising in the air. Only the fragrance of our sex grooving in sweet unison.

  This was the only way I knew there was a God—a power—a force around me.

  Nothing had ever affected me this way. No other woman. Not any other pussy. No amount of money or power.

  “I battled the Lion for you.” I slipped my cock out a little and then slide back, triggering more of her moans. “And I’d battle the sun, if it burns you.”

  She tried to speak, but I let my cock tell her more, maintaining a steady rhythm. Somehow. Even though I was close to busting. Spilling. Filling her with my sperm. Shooting all inside of that wet pussy. In and out. In and out. My balls hung heavy, slapping against her fat softness.

  “Oh, Jean-Pierre, I’m so close.”

  “Yes, reine, come for me.”

  Her body trembled against mine, as I slowed my rhythm, making sure she felt every inch of my length, my thickness in the stroke. Thrusting in the right angle. Deeper and harder. Slipping my cock against her sweet spot.

  “Ah!” She cried in pleasure.

  The sound of her passion destroyed me in the most beautiful ways. All the little control I had left me. I let go. Went wild. Close to coming with her. My body shifted to a wild animal. A beast in heat. Possessive. Hungry.

  I whispered to her in French and couldn’t remember what I said, just that it was my cock’s last will and testament.

  “So close.”

  I groaned.

  “Oh!” She straddled her legs around my waist, rocking into my cock.

  “Yes, baby, yes.” I lifted her up. That pussy clamped around my length. She wrapped her arms around my neck. I raised us up more, bouncing her small frame on my cock. Her curls fell messy around her face and shoulders. Her breasts bounced against my chest, killing me more and more. Twisting my senses.

  “You’re mine forever.” I cupped her ass as it jiggled against my fingers.

  “Yes.”

  “Take it, reine,” I whispered.

  And then she came. Her body spasming in pleasure. I held her close, still thrusting, still gripping that fat ass in my palms. Still pumping balls deep as her arousal dripped around my throbbing cock.

  “Jean-Pierre!” She slumped into me. Her pussy continued to hug my cock, as she moaned so loud and pushed me to my own orgasm.

  I mumbled French, not knowing what the hell I was saying this time either. Just that something needed to be said about this pussy. Something needed to be done. How could it be so good? How could she be so perfect?

  I came so hard, my vision distorted. My body seized for a few seconds. Muscles clenching, as I pushed in more.

  “Oh, reine!” I buried my head into those breasts, grasping at bouncing nipples. Losing control. Loading her with me. Spilling and making a mess of that lovely pussy. Painting her. Smearing her with my scent. Falling. Drowning in pure pleasure. My body drummed in ecstasy.

  I gripped her hard, not sure if I could keep us from falling down on the bed.

  All mine.

  A minute later, I lowered us to the bed. The aftershocks of our orgasms still rocked us. I held her in my arms. Her body shivering against mine. Her chest rose and fell like she’d been running.

  “That was amazing,” she whispered.

  My phone buzzed.

  I let out a long breath. “I’m ignoring that.”

  “Should you?”

  “No.” Letting her go, I grabbed the phone from the nightstand. “Yes?”

  Louis’s voice came on. “Kazimir delivered a message for you? It was a card on kid’s stationary, with a cartoon lion smiling at the viewer. Something a mother would use for a kid’s birthday party.”

  My chest stiffened. “What did the damn invitation say?”

  “It says.” Paper crumpled on his end and then Louis spoke, “Jean-Pierre, if you want the Devil, come and get him.”

  “That was it?”

  “Yep. And he wrote down a date, time, and address. It’s in two nights.”

  “Where?”

  “Same mall. Even more, it’s the same lingerie store where you’d fought him.”

  “I didn’t realize the Lion was so symbolic.”

  “I’ve heard that about him.” Louis’s voice held an edge. “It’s a trap.”

  “Probably.” I sat up in bed. “Get the Mouse’s phone number.”

  Louis sighed. “Why?”

  “I want to know her thoughts.”

  “Are you fucking crazy?”

  “We already know the answer to that question.”

  “I want to have a peaceful week.”

  “We all do, Louis.”

  “What would you do, if the Lion called Eden?”

  “We don’t want to know.”

  Eden sat up in bed next to me and looked my way. Dread filled her eyes.

  “I have to go,” I said. “Let me know, when you have the Mouse’s number.”

  “Fuck. This is a bad idea, but I’ll get the number.” Louis hung up.

  I put the phone back on my stand.

  Eden’s expression went neutral. I didn’t know she could do it. Before her face displayed every emotion that she’d felt. Now, she’d begun masking. Did she even know she was doing it? Or, had these past days taught her how to mask her emotions, and keep them safe?

  I knew she wouldn’t want to hear what was going on. It would scare her and possibly put her on edge. But I had to tell her the truth.

  “What’s going on?”

  “Kazimir is possibly luring me into a trap.”

  “How?”

  “He’s dangling the Devil, hoping I’ll come out and grab him.”

  She blinked. “And… what are you going to do?”

  “I don’t know yet.”

  “Don’t go.”

  “I want the Devil.” I worked hard to keep the anger off my face. “I just want…to talk to him.”

  She scowled. “Me too, but I want to be next to you more.”

  I embraced her. “Don’t worry.”

  “Don’t go. Leave the Devil and the Lion alone.”

  “We’ll see.” I captured her mouth.

  There was no need to discuss the matter anymore. Eden came before anything else. If it didn’t make any sense to go, then I wouldn’t.

  I landed a kiss on that sweet mouth and pulled away. “For now, reine, let’s get you some food and let you rest.”

  “I don’t need any rest or food.”

  “What do you need?”

  “More of you. If you could lay inside of me, I would let you.”

  “And I would stay there all day.” I gazed at her wondering if she could ever understand how much I needed her.

  Chapter 27

  Forever

  Eden

  The next day started with
peace, and calm. We spoiled each other, with ourselves—cuddling throughout the morning as we watched movies.

  The whole time he stroked my hair. A few times he brushed his fingers against the bandage which delivered shivers within me.

  Sometimes I wasn’t sure if they were good or bad shivers.

  Anxiety had become a very real thing these days. The Devil had planted the seeds of fear. Shalimar’s torture had nurtured them into full plants. Now I swear a tree grew in me, snaking out branches of pure terror through me.

  The sky weighed down more. I did my best to push it away and focus on Jean-Pierre—the way he made me feel. I worked on reminding myself that I was no longer in danger, and that everything would be okay.

  By lunch, we shut off the tv and put on music. We played the classics and then shifted to jazz. At the moment, I didn’t want to hear too many violins. And as if Jean-Pierre knew, he never pressed the issue.

  I gave Jean-Pierre back rubs after lunch. I couldn’t use my sore hand, but neither of us minded the one hand rubbing him.

  He lay on his stomach. Naked. Delicious. Muscle coiled and corded around his wide back. I sat on top of that yummy ass, rubbing my pussy against those firm orbs every few minutes.

  You’re so irresistible.

  It should’ve been illegal for a man to have such a nice ass. With one hand, I did my best to soothe him. His sore muscles melted under my fingers. His low groans rode the silence in the room.

  Once I finished, he flipped me over, nuzzling my neck at first and kissing my mouth next. He tore away my panties away, flipped me over, like I was just a feather and rammed his cock into me like a wild beast.

  Several fast-pumping minutes later, we came together.

  Me screaming his name, and him groaning in French.

  Dr. Martin showed up minutes later.

  No more examinations.

  I was about to argue the issue, when Dr. Martin looked at me. “We should talk by ourselves. Perhaps in the living room.”

  I raised my eyebrows. “Why?”

  “No. What’s wrong?” Jean-Pierre growled.

  Dr. Martin adjusted his glasses. “This is not a matter of danger, Jean-Pierre. The reason for privacy, is because you both are not married. Under medical regulations, certain results I’m supposed to—”

  “What’s wrong?” I asked. “You can say it in front of him?”

  Jean-Pierre held my hand pulling me closer to his body, as if to say that he would shield me from whatever it was.

  What is it? Was it the drug? What did they give me? Did it poison me? Am I more broken than I knew?

  “Please,” I whispered. “I would tell Jean-Pierre whatever it is, regardless.”

  Dr. Martin watched us and then nodded his head. “Okay. Let’s sit down.”

  “Just tell me.”

  “I am an old man and you two are rattling my nerves.” He eased himself over to the couch and sat down. “You two can sit, if you want.”

  Hand-in-hand, we walked over to the couch across from him and planted ourselves down.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked again.

  Dr. Martin looked at me. “You’re pregnant.”

  I opened my mouth in shock.

  Jean-Pierre rose and began to pace. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes. Very sure. We should do another examination soon.” He pulled out a piece of paper. “I have a prescription for you. I’m changing your pain medication, due to the present situation. There are also prenatal vitamins on there. I can recommend several top of the line ob/gyns.”

  I stared at Dr. Martin unable to speak.

  Jean-Pierre walked over and took the prescription. “Thank you.”

  Dr. Martin and him talked more.

  My fingers shook.

  “Um.” I cleared my throat. “I need a minute. I’ll be right back.”

  “Take your time.” Jean-Pierre’s gaze held worry.

  Was it worry for me or fear about the pregnancy?

  No. No. No. Now’s not the time. . .

  My heartbeats increased. I grabbed the doorknob with shaky fingers. My hands had already been sweaty. I went into the room and shut the door behind me.

  Oh my God! I’m not. . .I’m in no condition to be. . .somebody’s mother. . .not right now.

  I tried to catch my breath, but I couldn’t get the rhythm of my breathing.

  What am I going to do?

  Uni the Unicorn appeared and smiled. “I think you’ll be a great mom.”

  I blinked.

  He was no longer there. Or was he ever there? Was I bringing him back? Were they ever hallucinations from the drugs? Or was it all me, after laying in darkness with a dead body? Did I go crazy?

  I leaned against the door unable to walk forward. Across from me the vanity table stood. My reflection showed in the mirror. I’d been avoiding my reflection all day, but this time I looked back.

  Who am I?

  The bandage took up most of my cheek. My curls lay messy all over the place, from Jean-Pierre and I rolling around in bed.

  I had no idea what to do with my life anymore. I would have to wait until my fingers healed, to see if I could hold the bow right. My left hand jittered and trembled too much, and it hadn’t even been injured.

  Sometimes after Jean-Pierre went to sleep, my hands shook, and I couldn’t stop them.

  My eyes watered.

  What the fuck are you crying about? Now’s not the time. You’re pregnant. What are you going to do?

  It wasn’t about the money or taking care of our child. Jean-Pierre would spare no expense on his son or daughter.

  But what about the child’s life?

  I hugged myself.

  It could be a dangerous childhood. Running around all the time. No. No. Jean-Pierre wouldn’t let that happen. I wouldn’t let that happen.

  I ran my fingers through my hair.

  I need to get better. If I’m not crazy, then I’ll be okay. Then our child will be okay.

  I left the door, walked to the closet, and took out the suitcase. “I can go somewhere to get fixed or. . .”

  I dragged the suitcase to the center of the floor, and let it go. “What am I doing? I’m too scared to leave him. And if I wasn’t scared, I don’t know if I can ever leave him.”

  I’m not leaving for good. Just for now. . .Maybe I would leave for a little while. Wait. Why am I leaving in the first place? I don’t know.

  A tear left my eye. I wiped it away quick and glanced around the room to make sure no one saw.

  Okay.

  I inhaled and exhaled.

  Breathe. I did. Breathe again. Did I ever stop? Stop it.

  I stepped away from the suitcase and went to the bathroom. “I’m losing it.”

  Where was I going?

  I shut the bathroom door behind me.

  Where could I go?

  I made it to the sink.

  What do I need to fix right now? Me. But what part? I don’t know. Who am I talking to now? Me. Can I talk to myself? Yes. I think that’s normal. I talked to myself before.

  I turned on the faucet, filled my shaking hands with cold water, and splashed a little on the part of my face that wasn’t bandaged.

  There we go. I just needed some cold water. Everything is okay.

  Shaking my wet fingers, I turned off the faucet and studied myself in the mirror.

  My body trembled.

  When will the shaking stop? Why am I still scared?

  I fisted my uninjured hand. I wanted to punch something. Scream. It wasn’t fair. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be, with Jean-Pierre and me. Of course I wanted to have a child with him. . .eventually.

  But we are still learning about each other.

  I turned away from the mirror, unable to look at myself anymore.

  I didn’t even know if we would still be together. Jean-Pierre. . .he fell in love with someone else. I’m not her anymore.

  “We need to talk. If I just say something to him. . .” I went to the door a
nd opened it.

  Jean-Pierre stood in the room, staring at the empty luggage.

  Pain covered his face.

  My body tensed.

  I remained in the doorway.

  He turned his attention to me.

  More pain hit his face.

  My heart hammered in my chest.

  He spoke low, but there was an edge to it. “Where were you going?”

  “I’m. . .I’m not going now.”

  “I know.”

  I widened my eyes. “How do you know?”

  “Because I’m not letting you go anywhere.”

  Silence filled the air.

  “We’re in this forever.”

  I swallowed.

  He picked up the suitcase and slung it into the closet. It banged against the wall and fell down. He glared back at me.

  I swallowed. “I wasn’t leaving you, Jean-Pierre. Not in that way.”

  His face cracked a little. It softened on the edges. He turned away. “What were you doing?”

  “I need to go somewhere and get myself together.”

  He turned back to me. “It’s going to take you time to heal.”

  “I don’t have the time now. I’m pregnant.”

  “You’ve been pregnant before?” he asked.

  “No.”

  “Then how do you know that you don’t have the time to heal?”

  I let out a long breath. “Something is. . .not right with me.”

  “And it won’t be for a long time, but I’m here and anything you need will be here for you too.”

  The tension in my shoulders eased. My voice came out shaky. “Okay.”

  “You don’t walk away. We talk it over.” His voice rose a little. “You don’t just grab a suitcase and walk out of my life.”

  “I know.”

  “You don’t want me to chase after you, reine.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means that I’m not normal.”

  “You are.”

  “I’m not. Be okay with it.” A scowl replaced his expression. “And no, you are not who you were before, you’re someone else. Life changes us all the time, but our love should never change.”

  “That’s easy to say, but it’s not reality.” I walked over to Jean-Pierre, stood a foot away from him, and slowly pulled off the bandage. He took in the scars and lines. I dropped the bandage on the floor. “You fell in love with a woman that played a violin. I can’t play—”