The Man I Need

by Williams, Shanora

  “You’re sure?”

  “I’m positive.”

  I inhale deeply before exhaling. “Alcohol poisoning. That must have been horrible.”

  “Oh, it was. Trust me. Wouldn’t wish it on anyone…well, except Kyle. He deserves several rounds of alcohol poisoning.”

  I break out in a laugh, as does he.

  “I think we need to get away,” he murmurs after our laughter has faded. “Take a trip again. Just you and me.”

  “Where would we go?”

  “Anywhere you wanna go. I feel like the stress here is really gettin’ to us. We can go somewhere, clear our minds, then come back and handle everything properly.”

  “Aw, we don’t have to. I know you have a lot of work to do.”

  He reaches for my hand and gives it a squeeze. “I want to, Gabby. Besides, I don’t vacation much because I work so much. It’s about time I start livin’ a little.”

  I smile a little. “Well, where would we even go?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe Florida? Las Vegas? New Orleans?”

  I gasp. “Wait—I’ve never been to New Orleans. That would actually be really fun.”

  “You’ve never been?” He looks at me with a boyish grin. “I’ve been once, but it was for a work trip. Didn’t get to have fun like I wanted. We can go there. Get drunk, let loose.”

  I lock on his eyes. “You’re serious?”

  “As a heart attack.”

  I wince. “Whoa. That was way too soon!”

  He busts out laughing then throws his hands in the air with a shrug.

  “Okay. New Orleans it is then,” I declare.

  He looks me over. There’s heat in his eyes, and I don’t know how I could ever think he doesn’t want me. That look says it all, smoldering and unquestionable.

  “Come here.” He drops his legs, and I move to his lap, wrapping my arms around the back of his neck. “Know what would make me a happy man right now?”

  “What?”

  “To fuck you under this tree.”

  My heartbeat picks up speed as he reaches under my dress to tug on the strap of my panties. “But there are people walking the beach,” I say, though I can’t pretend I’m not excited.

  “They won’t see us,” he assures me. “The grass is too tall. Now get up.”

  I perch up on my knees while he remains seated and pulls my panties the rest of the way down. When they’re low enough, I work my way out of them, then lower back down on his lap.

  “Right here? Really?” I whisper on his mouth as he reaches down to undo his jeans.

  “It’ll be quick,” he rasps, pulling his cock out. “If we can’t see them, they can’t see us.”

  My mouth parts on his as he positions himself at my entrance then brings a hand to my hip to lower me.

  “Oh, God,” I breathe, squeezing my eyes shut. I still have to get used to his size. “We’re really doing this. So crazy,” I breathe.

  I ride him slowly, planting my mouth on his. A groan catches in his throat as he cups my ass, guiding me up and down the length of his thick cock.

  “Damn, baby,” he groans. “This is a dream. You’re a dream.”

  His words are so beautiful, completing me in so many ways. I may not be everything to one man, but I am everything to this man, so I ride him faster, our skin softly clapping together while rays of sunlight kiss my back.

  Panting raggedly, I curl my fingers in his hair, shifting up and then back down.

  “Perfect pussy,” he rumbles on my neck. “Perfect body. Perfect woman.”

  Every word brings me closer. I drop down, and he takes initiative, flipping me onto my back, bringing one of my legs over his waist and thrusting powerfully into me.

  He doesn’t slow down either. I meet him with my hips, watching his eyes and the way they swim with lust and so much love.

  I love everything about this. Where we are. How we’re doing it. He’s right; no one can see us from here. The grass and even the trees around us block most of the view from where we are.

  Bringing a thumb down, he places the pad of it on my clit and rubs in slow, gentle circles.

  “Yes,” I moan, and he thrusts forward, filling me with his hard cock again. Sand is in my hair, but I don’t care. As he continues rubbing small circles on my clit, my body bucks, and I breathe his name.

  “Shit, baby. You’re comin’ all over my dick,” he groans.

  With one more push inside me, his cock fills me up as his hips remain still, and then he lowers his body, his mouth connecting to mine as he comes.

  I cup his face in my hands and kiss him back, and his moan becomes mine. When our lips separate, we lock on each other’s eyes again.

  “No more secrets,” he reassures me. “From now on, I’m an open book. I’m all yours.” He runs a finger over my bottom lip, and his cock pulses inside me one last time. “And you’re all mine.”

  “Yeah,” I smile. “I’m all yours.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Marcel

  A lot of people won’t be able to accept the fact that I’ve fallen in love with a married woman.

  To many, it may seem like I came in the way of Gabby’s marriage, but the truth is, I saved her from that terrible matrimony.

  This woman…there is just something about her. She makes my heart race in ways I’ve never felt before. When she’s next to me, I feel whole. I haven’t felt whole since my sister died eight years ago.

  I have Gabby now, which is exactly what I’ve wanted for a while now. Being with her is surreal. The circumstances aren’t great, but I’m going to help her get through this shit any way I can.

  Her battles have become my own. The scars she wears from months of abuse have been marked on me too. I won’t let her go through this alone.

  After we leave the beach, we go back home, and I make love to her in bed—our bed. She fits in my hands like the perfect puzzle piece.

  Her husband was a fool to let her go—to abuse someone so wonderful. I know for a fact that I’ll never let it happen again.

  She’s with me now, and I’ll do everything I can to make sure she’s here to stay.

  * * *

  After planning the mini getaway to New Orleans the following morning, I check in at work for a few hours, and then take Gabby to the mall, like I agreed.

  Gabby is running low on clothes, and I don’t have much to wear for leisure, so we’re going shopping for new outfits, seeing as our trip is happening in three days.

  Gabby and I talked a little more this morning over breakfast about the kid that I’ll most likely never get to meet. I’ve come to terms with the fact that I’ll never meet him. For that kid’s sake, I’ll stay away and let him live a happy, oblivious life. They seem like great parents, too. I can’t ruin what they have, no matter how much it bothers me.

  I personally would love to have a kid of my own one day, but I never saw it in the plans for me. Maybe that’s why I became a bit obsessive with staying updated on that family after seeing them at the store.

  His name is Wylie Briar. Maybe when Wylie’s older and out of school, his parents will feel the need to lay the truth on the table for their own peace of mind and tell him who his real father is.

  They know I’m a good man. Then again, when I think about it, they weren’t the kind of people who couldn’t keep a secret. After all, they had many.

  Deep down I know I may never get the chance to formally meet the kid, and that bothers me. But as of today, I’m putting a stop to the Facebook stalking and research. I’m only torturing myself by doing it. I’ll still check in, but I know I need to end the obsession. I’m only hurting myself.

  After hitting our fourth store in the mall, I already have what I need tucked inside my shopping bags, but of course Gabby is still shopping.

  While Gabby roams to the next store, I sit in the corner inside, letting her shop in peace. I scroll through my emails as someone else walks into the store, a bell chiming to alert their presence.

 
I don’t pay much attention to the person at first, but in a matter of seconds, Gabby is rushing in my direction, her face panicked.

  “We have to get out of here,” she says hurriedly.

  “Why? What happened?”

  She looks over her shoulder and I stand, looking in the direction she’s looking.

  There is an older, Asian woman standing in the women’s section, shuffling through a rack. She side-eyes us, then continues to shuffle through the rack.

  “That’s Kyle’s mom.”

  Shit.

  “Let’s go,” she insists, grabbing my hand and heading for the exit of the store, but before she can make it out, her name is called, and she freezes.

  “Gabrielle?” The voice calls again, and Gabby releases my hand turning toward the voice.

  I look with her and now that the woman is closer, I can see hints of Kyle in her. The eyes and nose. The dark hair. The woman puts on a faint smile as she looks from Gabby to me.

  “I didn’t expect to see you here,” the woman says. Her accent is different. I can hear the British, but there’s another accent mixed with it that I can’t place.

  Gabby shrugs. “Just shopping.”

  The woman takes a step forward while Gabby takes one back. As if the woman notices Gabby’s cautiousness, she stops and straightens her back. “Is this the young man you had the affair with?”

  Gabby frowns. “This is Marcel, the man who saved me from Kyle, yes,”

  The woman tips her chin, that faint smile still on her red lips. “You know, I was actually hoping I would run into you. Do you mind having coffee or tea with me? We can go any place you’d like.”

  Gabby looks at me warily before focusing on her. “Not if Kyle will be around.”

  “He won’t be around, love. I assure you.” She smiles wider then looks me in the eyes. “I would prefer that it is only us, if that is okay.”

  I drop my eyes to Gabby’s. Gabby shifts on her feet, then she finally nods. “Fine. Coffee it is.”

  “Are you sure?” I ask.

  “Yeah. Just wait for me around here. I’ll call you when I’m done.” She takes a step toward Kyle’s mom. “There’s a coffeeshop upstairs. Let’s go there.”

  “Very well.” The woman sashays past Gabby, but she pauses in front of me, looking me up and down. Shaking her head, she walks away, and I frown, watching her go.

  “Bitch,” I grumble. “If shit goes south, Gabby—”

  Gabby places a hand on my chest. “I’ll call you, I promise. There are a few things I want to talk about with her and then we’ll go. This shouldn’t take long.”

  I watch her walk off too, but I don’t feel good about any of it. What are the odds that Kyle’s mother runs into Gabby at an outlet? She doesn’t even look like the kind of person who would shop in a place like this.

  Something is fishy.

  For all I know, this whole thing is just a set up.

  Chapter Twenty

  Gabby

  The aromas of roasted coffee beans and sugar are thick in the air of the coffee shop.

  The walls are painted a light brown, the floors made of dark wood. The accent colors of the shop are ivory and blue.

  I’m seated across from Mrs. Moore, latte in my hand, while she sips tea from a white teacup.

  I fold my arms, leaning against the back of my chair. She hasn’t said much since we’ve gotten here. She’s been fixing her tea to her liking, pouring honey into it, acting like she has all the time in the world.

  “Why are you here?” I finally ask when I’m tired of waiting.

  “To see my son, of course,” she answers.

  “No, I mean here. At the mall. You told me once that you have a designer who gets your clothes and arranges your wardrobe. You knew I’d be here.”

  Her face remains stoic as she looks me over. “I hired a private investigator who knows where Mr. Ward lives. He told me you two were here, so I came to see you.”

  “Wow. Are you serious? So, you’re stalking me now?”

  “No. I’m just keeping my family ahead of the situation. Keeping tabs. How was the meeting with the attorney?”

  I narrow my eyes at her. “Wow. Your whole family is clearly insane.”

  “No, Gabrielle. We are just cautious.” She sighs. “Don’t worry, Kyle has no idea I am meeting with you right now. I wanted to get the chance to talk to you alone.”

  I narrow my eyes. “To talk about what?”

  “Kyle, of course.”

  “If that’s the case, there’s nothing for us to talk about. Kyle hit me many times and raped me. That means he is dead to me. I’m sure he’s told you his sob story, though, and you’ll believe him over me.”

  “How can your husband rape you?” she asks, and her voice is so cynical. I want to throw my coffee in her face. She is the kind of woman who makes others feel like they’re in the wrong. Now I see where Kyle gets it from, and I see why so many rape victims don’t come out to let people know they’ve been raped.

  I scoff and push out of my chair. “You know what? I’m not about to let you try and undermine me. If there’s nothing to talk about, I’m leaving.”

  “Gabrielle, sit,” she demands as I turn. “Please,” she adds, and I know that took a lot of pride for her to request.

  I stop, not because of her demand, but because I really do have questions, and I know she’s the only one who can give them to me.

  Despite how much I am not a fan of Kyle’s, I face her again, taking my seat and leaning toward her. “For the record, your son is a heartless coward, Mrs. Moore. He choked me twice. Kicked me in my face. Raped me over the dining table you gave to him as a gift. Your son is a fucking monster. I thought I’d let you know that before you try and convince me to change my mind about any of this.”

  “I’m not here to change your mind. I simply want to talk.” She folds her fingers on top of the table, studying my eyes. Realizing how dead serious I am, she drops her gaze to her cup of tea, picking up the spoon beside it and stirring it. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised about what’s happening. I had a feeling it would happen again.”

  I frown. “What do you mean again?”

  “Kyle hasn’t always been like this.”

  “Frankly, I can’t tell. He’s been abusing me since shortly after the wedding.”

  She’s quiet a moment. “Dan isn’t Kyle’s real father,” she says, matter-of-factly, and I close my mouth.

  “What? How?”

  “His real father was British as well. He visited Malaysia here and there for work, and that’s how I met him, but I didn’t realize he was such a horrible person. Kyle was severely abused by his biological father.” Her throat bobs. “After our divorce, I made the terrible mistake of letting my son live with his father for a few years so he could go to a popular boarding school that was hard to get into at the time. His father had connections with one of the men who accepted applications at the school and only agreed to talk to the man at the school if I let Kyle live with him during the school season. I could only have him on summers and winter breaks. While he stayed with his biological father, however, he was being abused the entire time. I didn’t find out about the abuse until I picked him up one day for an optometrist appointment and saw him with a faded black eye. I took him away immediately, filed a report, and went to court over it, where he was found guilty, and we have not seen his father ever since. I met Dan a year later, and he took on the role of being Kyle’s father without a problem, moved us to America, and we rebuilt from there. He even offered to give Kyle his last name, as a way for him to start fresh.”

  I can’t help staring at her. I didn’t know any of this about Kyle. Why didn’t he tell me? Not that it would have made a difference, but all this time I thought I was doing something wrong.

  “Kyle was placed in therapy for a few years and seemed to be improving,” she goes on. “I thought he was fine…until he got a little older and had his first real girlfriend. He hit her once after school in his car
, gave her a busted lip, and her parents pressed charges. They dropped the charges, but only because we wrote them a very large check and asked them to dismiss it. I didn’t want it on his record, you see.”

  “Wow.”

  She sips her tea delicately. “All I’ve ever wanted was for Kyle to find his happy place. To find a woman who would help him change. I thought it would be you, but he has hit you as well, which proves to me that perhaps my son will never change.”

  “You knew this about him all along and didn’t warn me?”

  “I didn’t feel the need to. He seemed genuinely happy with you. He had changed while he was with you. I thought it was for the better.”

  I scoff and look away.

  “I told Kyle not to take the divorce to the hearing. I told him to go through with a settlement so that it doesn’t have to go to court, but he refuses. He claims that because you had the affair with Mr. Ward, that you deserve to get called out for it. He is being spiteful. He’s hurt and angry—”

  “He’s hurt?” I spit out. “Wait—are you serious right now?”

  She presses her red lips.

  I sit forward, digging my phone out of my back pocket. I unlock it quickly, then go to my pictures app. When I find the photo of my face, I turn the phone toward her, practically shoving it into her face.

  “This is what Kyle did to me. This happened because of him and I’ve had to deal with that and so much more, so I don’t want to hear shit about him being hurt.”

  She puts a hand on the phone to lower it, shaking her head. “I understand your anger, Gabrielle. I really do, but you have to realize that Kyle has a lot of money. Even if you win the judge over at the hearing, it won’t hurt him. He won’t lose much of anything, and we will make sure he doesn’t do any jail time. The most he’ll get is community service of some sort, or going to required therapy.”

  “I don’t care. It’s still happening.” I shove out of my chair. “Tell Kyle to take the settlement or get ready to be put to shame in court.”