by P. Dangelico
Bear pulled up to our building and dropped us off. Not a word was said as we made our way up to the apartment, the space between us loaded with tension, charged with conflict. I could see by his eyes how tired he was, that his leg was bothering him––and it made me feel terrible. I reached out, but he stepped away. For the first time in our relationship, he wouldn’t let me touch him.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Once we were inside, he headed straight for the shower, his strides swallowing up ground. He avoided looking at me more than was absolutely necessary. I was in our bedroom, undressing, when he returned wearing a towel hanging low around his hips. He finger combed his wet hair back and watched me peel the jeans off my legs with a mixture of irritation and pure animal attraction.
My greedy eyes, drawn by natural instinct to his quintessential masculine beauty, moved over those spectacular traps, down his broad chest, and over a six pack that rippled every time he moved. Dark blonde hair peeked out over the top of his low slug towel, now tenting as a result of where his apparent thoughts were headed….and taking me right along with him. The ache between my legs was increasing by the second.
It made me furious. I had absolutely no dominion over myself when it came to him. No matter how many times I tried to harness this heat living between us, to contain it, it bucked every attempt to be managed. Although I should’ve know better, since it had always been that way between us. This undeniable imperative to come together hadn’t diminished even a small fraction since the day we met, reducing my self-control to a punch line, a bad joke. I always considered myself strong, determined, in charge of my own fate. But I hadn’t been since the day he found me on my knees. Come to think of it, that seemed about right. Because I was a willing slave to him.
When my eyes climbed back up to his face, his eyes were heavy lidded, full of lust…and anger. There was no ignoring that. He moved fast––with impunity.
Grabbing my wrists in a firm grip, he pushed me down on the bed and fell on top of me, all two hundred and fifteen pounds of him. He made no attempt to break his fall. The air rushed out of my lungs. My wrists were pinned above my head. He held on with one hand while the other gently skated over my throat, onto my throbbing pulse. His erection pressed hard and hot in between my thighs, stoking my arousal. It didn’t take much for the heat to build into a raging fire.
He nudged me twice and a low moan escaped my lips. That’s all it took for the electric sensation to move through me, a branch of pure pleasure lighting up the farthest reaches of my body. He knew me, knew my body like a treasure map he’d studied over and over. He knew my weaknesses better than I did. That thought made me pause. Spurned on by my reaction, he ground himself against me, encouraging this frenzy, this fervent, insatiable need I had for his touch…until I stopped thinking altogether.
“Sometimes I want to fucking strangle you.” My eyes floated open to find his face inches from mine, frustration and desire taking turns flashing in those rust colored eyes. They darted from my eyes to my mouth. His breathing grew erratic. I watched him fight to gain control of it.
When he kissed me roughly, I knew desire had won. His free hand moved lower, hooking under by bent knee. He jerked it up until it was practically resting near my head. “Sometimes I wish I could put a fucking leash on you.”
Desire is a strange and complicated affair. What you would find repulsive under any other circumstance can become a total turn-on when done and said by the person you love…the person who brings out the best and worst in you.
I locked my mouth onto his and devoured him, consumed him, let the kiss say everything I couldn’t communicate in words. Because I didn’t have the courage to tell him what those words from him stirred in me. He didn’t have to question it for long though. Releasing his grip on my wrists, he ripped away his towel. Skin to skin now, he brushed his fingertips back and forth over my nipples, pinching, teasing them up. Barely able to move, I squirmed chasing his fingers.
His arm, still under my knee in a cruel and punishing hold, had my hip flexed at a brutal angle. He pushed my soaked underwear aside and caught the unquestionable evidence of my arousal, the scent of my body telling him I was his to do with as he pleased, more than ready for him to take me. A small smile manifested on features so perfect they were both a blessing and a burden. Then he went back to business.
“Can’t have you running around with my heart in your hands,” he muttered, rocking the velvet steel of his shaft against my primed body.
He pinched my nipples hard and my body bowed off the bed. He scraped the delicate skin at the side of my throat with his teeth. A wild thing staking his claim. But I was already his. It had happened quietly, without me noticing. He’d dug under my skin and written himself into my DNA…just as he said he’d wished to do.
When he pulled his lower body away I cried out, bereft, cold where he had been. A moment later he drove his hips against mine, fitting himself inside of me to the root. The air swooshed from his lungs while I sucked in a breath. The broad head of his erection hit the back of my womb and a spot so sensitive it sent a shockwave racing up my spine. The initial twinge of pain melted into pleasure, coalesced into ecstasy, and grew into a state of arousal I hadn’t quite experienced before. Tears welled in my eyes as the sensation grew stronger and stronger. His eyes, catching every detail, lost some of their hardness. Lowering his guard, he let the love shine.
I cupped his face as he began to rock deeper and deeper, pushing me towards an epic climax. With my knee bent, I couldn’t do anything other than submit to him. To his needs, to his force of will. It was intentional and I knew it…I let it happen.
He picked up the pace, driving faster and faster. Tipping his chin, he watched his body invading mine, taking possession, making us one. A dark smile curved his lips.
I was getting close, struggling to adjust to the right angle. “No,” he barked, and pulled out of me. I screamed in frustration loud enough for it to echo throughout the apartment.
In one swift move, he flipped me over onto my knees, my face pushed into the mattress. “My way––understood?” The command was forceful, backed by impatience. He stroked his large hand up and down the length of my spine, in between the cheeks of my rear end. I jerked at the sensation. “Easy––not tonight,” he murmured.
The other gripped my hip with a force that I knew would leave a bruise. His erection, hot and slippery, settled between my cheeks, his hips pinned to my rear end. One hand cupped me, his fingers teasing and torturing me while the other hand held me down by the neck. I squirmed to get his fingers where I wanted them. He kept them just out of reach.
“Beg me for what you want. Beg me and I’ll give it to you.”
Part of me wanted to buck him off, fight him every inch of the way. The rest of me ate it up, craved it, lusted after it, an addict needing a fix.
Without warning, he thrust his hips and filled me up. “I want to hear you beg me,” he commanded in a tone as sharp as broken glass, angry enough to gain my full attention even when the sound was mellowed by desire. He slammed into me harder, faster. My muscles pulled taut, quivered from the insane amount of pleasure he was giving me. Though at the same time––not enough. “I’ll give you what you want. I’ll give you things you didn’t even know you wanted. But first I want to hear you beg.”
Whines and desperate moans came bursting out of me. I was on a straight trajectory to the most powerful orgasm he’d ever given me––and that was saying a lot. What troubled me was the why. The bruising hold on me, the filthy words whispered in my ear excited me beyond measure. Make me..go ahead and make me, the devil in me whispered.
“Let go and give me what I want,” he demanded, each word punctuated by deep and powerful thrust of his hips. “And I’ll give you what you need.”
I couldn’t resist any longer. I couldn’t fight anymore. I stopped trying to control my body––my mind. I stopped seeking, and received what he wanted to give me. Pleasure. So much pleasure a river of te
ars ran down my face.
“I’m begging, Sebastian, please…” My voice faded away, my mind grew quiet.
“I’ll give it to you, baby. I’ll give you everything you need, always.” And he did. He kept his promise and pushed me over the edge. I fell from the stars and landed in an ocean of euphoria.
I came…and came…and came.
Muscles expanded and contracted. I screamed his name, the sound muffled by the blanket shoved against my mouth.
Sebastian thrust one last time and stilled. Muscles turned to rock, spine curved around mine. He bit the space where my shoulder dovetailed with my neck and growled as he emptied himself inside of me. It launched me into a second orgasm.
And I came…and came…and came.
Love has a sound. It sounded like the rush of my husband’s breath by my ear. Love has a feel to it. It felt like the warm slip of sweat between our bodies, and the squeeze of his hands on my breasts as he held on in comfort. Love was all those things and more. It was the intimacy expanding between us into an unfathomable place where we were no longer two, but one.
To be so vulnerable should’ve frightened me to death, should have sent me screaming from the room. I was hanging over a cliff, trusting him to catch me when I fell. Relinquishing control was the hardest thing I’d ever done. Placing myself in his hands meant trusting him without reserve. In the farthest, darkest corners of my mind, a voice called out, told me to run and hide, to get away. Instead, I turned and wrapped him in my arms, and held him as he fell asleep.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Trust is a hothouse flower. It needs to be tended, nurtured, protected. It needs all your attention to help it thrive. While at the same time it takes very little to erode it…to kill it. One wrong move, and weeks, months, even years of hard work and care can be wiped away in the blink of an eye.
I accepted my fair share of the blame. I will admit that my actions didn’t exactly inspire trust in him. Though in my defense I didn’t do anything on purpose. But his own issues, which had everything to do with his upbringing, sabotaged it as well.
“I’ll be home after dinner tonight. It’s the only night of the week we see patients.”
Sebastian came out of the walk in closet wearing only his underwear and socks, his pants hanging from his fingertips. On cue, my reaction practically Pavlovian, my eyes roamed over him in appreciation. When they climbed back up to his face, I didn’t like what I found.
“I thought you were volunteering. That this was only going to take up a few days of your time?”
I really didn’t like where this conversation was headed. My attention descended to the shell buttons of the blouse I was busy closing. “It was at first, but Yannick––”
“Yannick?” he said, interrupting me. “Who the fuck is Yannick?”
“My God, Sebastian––language.” His scowl didn’t lessen one iota. “Dr. Kama. The attending physician. It’s his clinic.”
Four weeks had passed since I’d started working at the clinic. Sebastian had been so busy restoring order at the bank that he hadn’t noticed the long hours I had been working. All that had changed in the last week. The bank was back to running as smoothly as ever, and my husband back home earlier than usual. Russet colored eyes met brown ones––the brown ones wide with anticipation.
He looked uncomfortable, on the verge of saying something…important? “I thought you would…” He swallowed. “Now that the case is closed.”
“Would what?” My skin prickled with awareness.
He looked around. I could practically see the wheels spinning in his mind. “I thought we could try again,” he said, his eyes glued to the pants he was holding.
My heart dropped. I heard it fall to the ground. Things were finally back to semi-normal (whatever that was) between us. My job at the clinic was everything I had hoped and more…
A baby. He wanted a baby. How could I tell the man I loved more that anything in this world that I didn’t. Not right now, anyway. Sensing that an oblique attack would be most effective, I immediately went in that direction.
I walked up to him and placed my hand over his heart. “Darling––I’m just now getting acclimated to a life where no one wants you dead, and I’m not going to spend the rest of mine in a gulag. I love my husband. I love being married to you. I also love my new job. Can I possible enjoy that for a little while longer before we throw a baby into the mix?”
By the time I was done with my little speech the side of his mouth had curved up in a sweet, adorable smile. He nodded briefly and placed a soft kiss on my lips.
“Why don’t you meet me at the clinic and we can go out to dinner from there?”
That seemed to smooth his ruffled feathers. His expression relaxed. I exhaled the breath I was holding. Crisis averted, at least for now.
My days at the clinic had fallen into a comfortable routine. And what I mean by that is that we would examine patients and discuss the diagnosis and treatments. Then, outside the examination room, Yannick would fire off a thousand other potential diagnoses, quiz me on those symptoms and what my course of treatment would be––all this while I was being timed. It was like facing a firing squad every day. And I loved every minute of it.
By seven pm we were almost done with scheduled appointments. A young woman, no older than twenty-one, walked in. Under her olive skin, there was a pallor to her that concerned me. Hunched over and walking slowly, she was clearly in pain. Agnes noticed as well and immediately escorted her to an examination room while Yannick finished up with another patient.
I entered the examination room ready to take her information and found her lying down on her side. When I tried asking her in French what her name was, she stared back at me with a blank expression. I tried asking her again in English and received the same vacant stare.
Yannick walked in then.
“I don’t know what language she speaks but it isn’t English or French.” His dark, intelligent eyes moved to the woman who was on the examination table, assessing the situation. Her eyes were closed, beads of sweat collecting on her brow.
“Signora, come ti chiami?” I asked in Italian. Her eyes blinked open and she answered. My eyes connected with Yannick’s.
“Italian.”
“Her name is Arabic,” he added. A couple more questions and we had ferreted out that she was in Switzerland illegally and she had gotten pregnant. We didn’t pursue the topic further, however, it was easy to deduced that she was in the sex trade.
Looking at her, small, long dark hair, the similarities in our stories was not lost on me. Could I have ended up like her if I hadn’t met Sebastian? The question sank in bone deep and rattled me.
After a thorough examination, Yannick concluded that she had had a miscarriage. She categorically refused to go to a hospital so Yannick did his best to make her comfortable.
In the now empty lobby of the clinic, we waited for her to get dressed. “What’s wrong? You look pale.”
Distracted, I glanced up and found Yannick watching me strangely. I’d never seen him look concerned before but he was at the moment.
“Nothing. She just reminds me…” My voice got lost in the midst of all the memories that came rushing back. “I could have been her.” I shrugged. “If I hadn’t met my husband––who knows what would have happened to me.”
Yannick looked thoughtful. “He’s a good man?”
That made me smile. “The best.” I looked at the man standing before me. He was a good man. He had also become a good friend. “He wants a baby.”
Yannick scowled. “What about your career?”
“That’s the problem. Can I do both, and not have both suffer from neglect?”
“Tough question.”
“Yes,” I exhaled deeply. “Thank you for listening.”
Yannick placed his large comforting hand on my shoulder and said, “Anytime.”
“Get your fucking hands off my wife.”
It was as if a cold bucket of ice water had be
en dumped on my head. We both turned to face the growling voice. Yannick eye’s narrowed. The two men squared up. While on the outside I remained frozen, on the inside my heart was beating savagely inside my chest.
And then it happened all at once…I couldn’t believe my eyes. Sebastian launched himself at Yannick and grabbed him by the lapels. I sprang into action trying to separate them while Yannick gave as well as he got. I was sent sprawling onto my rear end by the two titans trying to shove each other around.
They only stopped and separated when the chair I fell against toppled over. Sebastian came over and hauled me to my feet. Glaring viciously, I pushed him away.
“Yannick, I’ll see you tomorrow.” I measured my words, afraid an avalanche of foul language was about to come tumbling out. Wiping the sweat off his brow, he nodded in answer. I walked out without looking in Sebastian’s direction once.
In the interminable ride home, we were both silent, the air heavy with disbelief and disappointment. I spent the time trying to school my temper into something manageable. A wave of relief washed over me when he pulled the Bentley into the underground garage and parked. I tugged on the door handle twice and still it remained locked.
“Do you want him?” The words registered slowly. I turned to take him in. He couldn’t possible be serious? His unblinking gaze was fixed ahead, his nostrils flaring, his jaw pulsing with tension. All the usual signs of irrational anger were there.
“Do you hear yourself? Do you hear how insane you sound?”
“Answer my question.”
His voice was too cool for my liking. I wanted him to loose it so we could go straight to dealing with the insanity he was currently experiencing. “I’m going to say this slowly, so there’s no misunderstanding…go fuck yourself.”
His head whipped around. A deep frown was carved into those patrician good looks. I’d never spoken to him like that––but desperate times called for desperate measures. And after being humiliated in front of my boss, a colleague I respected enormously and a friend, he needed to understand that I wouldn’t tolerate this irrational jealousy ever again.