by C. Michelle
The visit concludes after an hour. Marisol requests a minute of my time before her group therapy session begins. I agree to speak with her briefly.
“I can’t thank you enough for bringing him today. Seeing him is like seeing the sun after being trapped in the dark for an eternity. He’s my sunshine, the only thing I have in this world who can brighten up my day. A million thanks, Kade to you and to everyone else. Considering the circumstances, my little boy seems happy.”
“We all love him, Marisol. I didn’t bring him here for you, I did it for him. I hope that you overcome your inner battles with your addiction. Think of him when you have that demonic urge to cause yourself harm. Think of the pain you bring him with your absence. His love for you is unconditional, don’t take advantage of the purity in his heart. Instead, benefit from this time to get yourself together, come out stronger than ever, and never rely on just any man for love or drugs to fulfill an empty void. Don’t worry about Muscles, he’s in good hands.” I assure her.
“Muscles?” She questions.
“He likes walking around shirtless so the nickname kind of stuck.” I explain.
She gives me a hint of a smile. “I like it.” She says quietly then walks us to the lobby. Letting go of her son becomes unbearable for her to manage. Her eyes instantly turn red and glassy. She’s fights desperately to remain strong in front of Muscles. It takes every inch of strength to resist the urge to shed the tears that are relentlessly trying to be set free.
“Be a good boy for mommy, okay? I’ll see you real soon.” She struggles to say.
Muscles immediately looks at me for confirmation. “Yes, we’ll come back to visit your mom. But you have to turn your frown upside down otherwise your mommy is going to be sad if she sees that you’re sad.”
He nods his head understanding my point then gives his mom the biggest smile and hug he can conjure up. After a long moment, I pull him away and head out the door with Muscles by my side. Curiosity gets the best of me so I decide to turn around. I witness Marisol’s strong façade crumble to pieces as her sunshine leaves her in the dark once again.
Chapter 10 (Nina)
Sancho
“Shhhh! Lower your voice!” I whisper not so softly. “You’re going to wake him!” I tell my man as we’re leaving Muscles’ room. The quieter we try to be, the more noise we seem to make.
As soon as we enter his room, Josh closes the door behind him and dims the lights. “What are you doing?” I ask confused.
“What do you mean? I’m getting ready to dick you down.” Josh states with hunger in his eyes.
“You know Muscles wakes up in the middle of the night, we can’t just close the door. What if he wakes up earlier than usual? Open the door. No one is bumpin’ and grindin’ tonight.” I put my foot down.
Josh stands by the door considering my words then after some thought, opens it. The room is mostly dark, barely lit but I can easily sense his devious smile rising to the surface. He clenches his jaw and makes his way to me, picking me up, and throwing me over his shoulders. “Babe!” I shriek.
He slaps my ass. “Shhhh! You’ll wake up Muscles!” He takes me into his closet and shuts the door. The closet is pitch black, our eyes fail to adjust to the darkness even after being there for a few moments. It doesn’t matter. Once he glides my body against his as he places me on my feet, I can immediately recall every inch of the delicious man who stands before me. His clean scent of soap mixed with mint overpowers my senses. He pulls off his shirt rewarding me with the feel of his muscular, smooth chest. The texture of his stomach changes once I caress my hand past his navel. I can trace a hint of hair in the center of his lower abs. I stop myself from touching him further below. Instead, I search for his handsome face in the dark and bring it down near mine. Our lips instantly connect allowing our tongues to glide graciously and our taste to flow freely. Josh grabs ahold of my bottom lip and with it between his teeth he reprimands me with his deep voice. “Don’t ever refuse me.” He reaches down between my legs and cups my sensitive spot as demonstration. “This belongs to me. I will kiss it, lick it, finger it, make love to it, and fuck it wherever and whenever the fuck I please, understand?” He adds more pressure as he massages my clit over my shorts.
His husky voice and the simultaneous pressure on both my lips cause a fierce sensation to spread throughout my body. An anxious moan escapes me. “I understand.” He releases my lip from the grip of his teeth then returns to sway his lips against mine.
Josh directs me to my knees. He releases his rock hard shaft from his sweats then places his hands behind my head. “Suck and make me forget.” He commands with no room for discussion as he places the tip of his cock at the center of my lips.
I welcome his thickness into my mouth. Instead of me pleasuring him by guiding my tongue and lips over his shaft, he takes absolute control…he fucks my mouth. His strokes are determined and hit the back of my throat, but his hands behind my head maintain only the slightest hint of pressure. His long, fat dick is too much for my mouth, so I use one hand to cup and massage his sack while the other strokes the base of his erection as he continues to rhythmically glide in and out of my mouth. I hear a growl deep within him. “Fuck, baby…your mouth feels like heaven. I can’t get enough of it.”
I stop him in motion to lick his shaft and savor the precum that eagerly spurts out. I twirl my tongue over the tip and suck with just enough pressure to make him moan in ecstasy. “Mmm…you have the best flavor.” I compliment as I feel my own juices making their way to my entrance.
Some women see oral sex as a chore, but I see it as empowerment to make my man weak with just the feel of my mouth. I love it and take pleasure from being absolutely raw with the man who holds my heart.
“Stand up.” Josh commands.
Fervently, I do as directed, but lick my way up to his chest. He bends down to grab the hem of my shirt and slides it upward to pull it off me. His lips find my face, he grazes his teeth along my jawline working his way to my neck. The darkness heightens my awareness and intensifies every sensation. He expertly unhooks my bra to release my swollen, sensitive breasts craving the attention only my man knows how to give. As if hearing my thoughts, he reaches with his hands to massage and gently rub my erect nipples. He surprises me by lowering himself on his knees and meeting my chest at eye level. He caresses his face in between my breasts then lovingly kisses and worships my tits. He makes his way to the nipple and begins to suck, then tug at my pebble while massaging the other breast with his hand. He brings his free hand down to my waist and begins to take off my loose shorts right along with my panties. His hand then finds its way to my entrance. On instinct, I spread my legs wider hoping he’ll invade my sensitive area. “You’re so wet, baby. What is it you like best? When I fuck your mouth or when my mouth worships your amazing tits?” He massages my clit then enters me with his finger.
“I love it all. Your touch, your mouth, your demanding ways.” I whimper. The friction of his gliding finger inside me while he sucks on my tit gives me a mind-blowing sensation. I want to scream, moan, tell the world of my blissful state, but I can’t. I have to contain the exhilaration pent up inside me.
“I can’t hold it any longer, I need to be in you.” My man confesses. His words are a beautiful soliloquy to my ears.
“Fuck me then, babe. Show me how much you want my pussy.” I wrap my arms around his neck as he lays me down on the floor of his walk in closet. Without waiting a second longer, he rams his swollen penis inside me. I gasp. His size, his depth, and his force take me by surprise. Although I’ve had him in me countless times, being fucked by my man in absolute darkness brings unfamiliar sensations that I hungrily welcome.
My moans treacherously escape. Josh brings his mouth to mine to keep my sounds restrained as he penetrates me deeper. Josh consumes me both physically and emotionally. His body engulfs mine as he’s above me and his mouth overpowers mine. I love every thrust he gives me, I love how his body over mine makes me feel
like an absolute woman, and I love how his touch makes me feel worshipped. We may be fucking in his closet, but his need, want, and love for me makes everything surrounding us feel just right. Until…we hear a knock on his closet’s door.
OMG! Are you fucking kidding me? Let me just die now! “Muscles? I’m getting dressed, honey. Give me a second and I’ll be right out, okay?” I hear him coughing near the door then hear his cough seem more distant. He left Josh’s room.
“Get off me! I can’t believe I allowed you to seduce me in the dark with your debonair and irresistible charm! Never again, Tree Hugger!”
“Wait. I’m almost finished.” My relentless man says as he continues with his thrusts.
Men!
I laugh. “I cannot believe you’re still fucking me! I want to die of humiliation and all you care about his busting a nut? You’re too much!”
“Ahhh…there…I’m finished.” He announces then rolls off me.
“You have a one track mind, Mister! Poor Muscles will need additional therapy to deal with such a traumatic experience!” I state completely mortified.
Josh chuckles, but I can sense him rolling his eyes. “It’s not like he saw us.”
“No, but he must have heard us! That’s just as bad!” As I’m searching for my clothes in the dark, I ask, “Hey, where’s the light switch?”
“Right outside the door.”
“What? How am I supposed to get dressed if I can’t see shit? What if he’s still in your room? I don’t want to open the door and risk having him see me!” I whisper in a panic.
“Are you done with your rant? Because I’m ready to open the door and check on him. I kept my sweats on and just finished putting on my shirt, cuckoo lady.”
I sigh with relief. “Oh.” Then giggle uncontrollably.
The following day as I’m walking to my office from the parking lot in the city’s morning work rush, I get a perturbed feeling. Although I’m surrounded by several people all scurrying to get to work, I feel prying eyes focused solely on me. I discreetly look around to see anyone who I may recognize or someone worthy of suspicion, but no one catches my attention. I blame my paranoia on last night’s dream featuring the ever so dead, kingpin, Mateo Blanco who continues to haunt me in my sleep. I try to brush off the presentiment, but the nagging feeling refuses to fritter away.
Once I step foot into my office, the sense of security I desperately yearn for fails to surface. As I walk to the printer, I scrutinize every coworker wondering and mistrusting their intentions. Nina, stop! No one is after you! You’re being silly.
My first appointment arrives and is waiting in our lounge area along with her mother. Once I see her, all my personal issues escape my thoughts. I provide my client my undivided attention along with the empathy she distraughtly longs for. She’s a twelve-year-old girl who has endured sexual abuse from her grandfather since the early age of six. No one likes to think about such disturbing cases, but they exist. In this situation what adds to this young girl’s horrid circumstance is that the mother is more concerned about freeing her dying father despite the inhumane acts he committed upon her child. How can anything take precedence over her daughter’s traumatic experience?
This particular case is sickening on countless levels. What kind of “man” and I say the term loosely, would look at his own flesh and blood and want to perpetrate heinous acts upon them? What kind of mother would overlook such an atrocious crime carried out on her own child…a child whom she brought into this world, a child whom she carried for months in her womb, a child whom she gave life to? Aren’t mothers supposed to love and protect their children with all their might, heart, and soul?
This situation repulses me even more because despite the family bond they’re supposed to have, this monstrous act was committed on a defenseless child! Anyone can sympathize for this young girl on a human level, right? So why is the mother more concerned for her dying father than her own child? Because the man is severely ill now, that grants him forgiveness? I don’t think so. In the bible, it states that we’re supposed to honor our mother and father…not in this case. This woman’s father is a malevolent demon. She is too self-involved with all the wrong priorities to be a good parent. Even animals have the instinct to protect their own. Not this woman, she cares more about her father and her financial status than she does about the well-being of her daughter. What’s even more revolting? The mother also endured the same sexual abuse from her father. Why would she allow the abuse to continue?
My heart breaks for this little girl who sits in front of me with an expression of misery, desolation, and emptiness. She’s the same age I was when I went through my own violation. Unlike her, I had my mother’s unconditional love. I don’t know what would have become of me had things been otherwise. Because of my mother’s support, I wasn’t a victim, I was a survivor of rape. As far as I’m concerned, the mother is just as perverse as the grandfather in this case.
I spent the whole morning in the Court’s chambers with the little girl trying to calm her nerves. The hearing is continued to a later date. Once lunchtime arrives, I’m famished and emotionally spent. When I return to my office, I realize I have a visitor.
Michael. Damn…he’s some serious eye candy.
“Hey, you!” I embrace him immediately with a genuine smile. He reciprocates the gestures.
“I hope you’re okay with my unexpected visit.” He asks.
“Of course. How’s Diego?”
“He’s fine. Here I brought you lunch.” Michael hands me a foam takeout container.
“Bless your heart. I’m starving!” I don’t bother to keep my cool. “Did you bring some for yourself?”
“I did.” She states simply.
“Great! We can have lunch together here at my desk. So tell me, what brings you by?”
“Just checking up on you. A routine visit…if you will.” Michael gives me a hint of a smile.
“Let me guess…Diego? What’s he so worried about? My whole life he never made himself known, now he’s everywhere even though he’s not really there. You know?”
“Maybe, he’s just making up for lost time.” Michael comes to Diego’s defense.
“I’m not complaining. I appreciate his letters and phone calls. It’s nice hearing from him so often. But truth be told…I slightly panic when I see you. I’m always afraid you’ll come bearing bad news.”
Michael looks at me with slight disappointment. “Don’t think that way. He’s going crazy not being able to protect you. Your dad is someone who is used to controlling all his surroundings, although he still holds power behind bars, it’s still not the same.”
I stop chewing my food mid bite. “Why would Diego need to protect me? I thought I was no longer in danger since Mateo Blanco is now six feet under.” Remembering my environment, I get up and close my office door.
Michael acts nonchalant, but something tells me he’s keeping something from me. “You know how fathers are with their daughters…overprotective.”
“I think you’re lying, Michael.” The nagging feeling from this morning instantly returns. “Am I in danger? Tell me the truth. This morning I felt as if I were being followed. Don’t lie to me. I need to know if someone is after me and the reason behind it.”
Michael sighs. “Your dad has one of his men following you…for your protection.”
For my protection? What the fuck?
“Only a handful of people are aware Diego is my father. Outside of my intimate circle, no one else knows. So what’s the problem?”
“It’s more complicated than that. Your name, Josh, Kade, Celeste, Victoria, and Emme’s names were all included in the police reports as innocent bystanders or witnesses. Everyone else with the exception of your father is dead. Mateo Blanco’s family isn’t just going to leave his death unaccounted for. Evidence shows that Blanco wasn’t killed by law enforcement. The weapon used to shoot Blanco to death still hasn’t been recovered. Your dad’s concern is that Blanco’s son might com
e after everyone who was there the night of his father’s murder in pursue of answers or to seek vengeance.”
Slowly, I try to piece things together. “Wait a minute. Diego’s men surrendered right along with him so how is Diego the only survivor left of the group?”
“Don’t ask questions you’re not prepared to hear the answers to. I’ve been directed to tell you nothing, but the truth.”
“Tell me.” I demand.
Michael sighs. “Diego’s men knew too much. He couldn’t risk putting your life in danger on his account. He did what he had to do…to protect you.”
“Oh.” I understand. Diego promised not to shed innocent blood again. Those men he had killed were not innocent. He got rid of them to protect me. It’s not right, but I won’t reproach him for it. “What about Emme? She was working for Diego. Is there a hit on her?” I’m afraid of Michael’s response.
“Emme’s life is being spared because of the friendship she holds with you and for no other reason. You have to understand that she holds a very serious threat to your father and you due to all the information she possesses.”
I decide to keep quiet about ending all ties with Emme. Although we’re no longer friends, I can’t live with her death on my conscience. How did my life become so complicated? I shouldn’t have the power to decide whether someone lives or dies. No one should.
“Can we visit Diego soon? He’s due for a visit. I have questions I’d like him to explain.”
“Of course. We’ll go this week.” Michael suggests.
“Thanks.”
The remainder of our lunch is spent discussing lighter topics. The more Michael conducts his routine visits per Diego’s request, the more he relaxes around me. I become fond of his company and have earned great respect for the loyalty he holds for my father.
When my mom babysits Muscles, they’re usually at the bakery for the last half hour, so after work I head there to pick him up. When I enter, the delicious, warm aroma of baked goods feels inviting to my senses as opposed to today’s piercingly, cold weather that has me on the defensive. It’s the perfect contrast. My mom informs me that Muscles appeared to enjoy his first speech therapy session. Tomorrow, he’ll begin occupational therapy to deal with some of the violent tantrums he’s been displaying lately. Since he’s not able to verbally communicate his feelings, he aggressively lashes out in frustration. Due to his past, we all made a group decision agreeing that the more therapy Muscles is involved in, the more beneficial it would be for him in the long run. We also elect on a hearing test and an EEG to measure his brain’s activity as forms of precaution per his pediatrician’s recommendations.