Before I know it, my mind is wandering to last night. God, last night was amazing. I close my eyes to get the full visual. Ok, I got a little carried away with the spanking; her ass was pretty red. I couldn’t help it. I was feeling a little insecure. Do you think I missed how she was staring at Maddie’s boyfriend? No, I didn’t and I can tell you right now, I wasn’t and am still not happy about it. What the fuck was that about anyway? I don’t like how she was looking at Blake, either. I don’t like her looking at any other guy that’s not me—not in that way. I kept it to myself, though, just in case I was overreacting. Besides, feeling insecure is one thing, acting out because of that insecurity is another. Anyways . . . there she was, on her knees, ass up. It was red and she was soaked. I swear to Christ she’s going to turn me into a two-pump-chump. I can barely keep it together around her.
She was trembling.
I was nervous.
We were about to have a first—together.
Oh, you thought I’ve done that before? Nope. I’ve never even had the desire; truth be told. With CiCi . . . I desire everything. She was so wet. I made sure to pull most of it to lubricate her naturally. And then, I sunk into her, plunging several times to relax her and thoroughly coat myself. I pulled out and slowly slid my cock up to her other opening. We both panted in anticipation. I pushed against her opening. Her breaths became more rapid. “Take in a deep breath, Ceese then exhale and try to relax.” I know; easier said than done. But she did as I said and as soon as she fully exhaled, I pushed all the way in—maybe a little too quickly. She gasped and whimpered. Oh fuck, how she whimpered. You know what her whimpering does to me. It took every ounce of my strength to contain myself. I focused on the newer sensation. How tight it felt. But mostly, it felt like taking a bite of forbidden fruit, and I can’t even begin to tell you how much more erotic that thought made it feel. Every time I pulled back and dove in again, I felt myself getting harder from her response. I’m not even going to go there about the visual. I’m sad that Ceese couldn’t see the way my cock slid in and out of her ass. She’s a visual fucker like me and I love that about her; it’s hot as hell. I made sure to describe it to her, though. Let’s just say that not only did she acclimate herself quickly, but that dirty fucking mouth of hers was open for business. God, I love her! She had me shattered within minutes. I, of course, shattered her this morning with her favorite alarm clock.
“Wow, Rosie palm and her five sisters are really giving it to you good!” CiCi bellows out of nowhere!
“Shit!” I open my eyes, jumping at her voice. She’s eyeing my crotch while biting back her smile. I pull my hand out of my pants. “I don’t even know how it got in there.” I try to act shocked.
“Funny how that shit happens, huh?” She giggles as she walks around from the back of the couch, pulling her scarf off.
“Is it snowing?”
“No. I have really bad dandruff.” She rolls her eyes and shakes out her hair before pulling her coat off. She struggles with her boots but manages to pull them off. “Scooch, I’m freezing my ass off; I need a snuggle.” She smacks my leg. I get on my side and push my back against the couch. She lies next to me. I pull the blanket over us and we spoon. Not even five minutes goes by and I can hear the tempo in her breathing change. Poor baby. I snuggle closer and breathe her hair in. This is the best place in the world.
“Kyle?”
“Yes?”
“Your dick is poking me,” she says around a yawn.
“Poking you is his favorite thing to do.”
“Tell him nobody’s home.”
“He can hear lady boom boom’s faucet running. Drip. Drip. Drip.” I whisper into her ear.
She laughs lightly, “Dipshit.”
“C’mon, you’ve been sleeping for two hours anyway; you should be getting up now otherwise, you’ll be awake all night.” I pat her hip.
“I’m sure I could come up with a way to tire myself out.” She grinds her bottom into me.
“I could help . . . I’m useful like that,” I murmur between kisses to her neck.
“Ugh . . . you’re right; let’s get up.” She stretches then sits up.
“I’ve been up for the past few hours and it’s done nothing but cause me pain.”
“Shut-up.” She slaps my stomach.
“You’re very aggressive this morning.” I sit up, as well.
“Hmm. I’m hungry.”
“Let’s have some lunch and you can show me everything you bought.” I stand up and reach my hand out to her. We walk out to the kitchen hand in hand without a care in the world. And then I remember. Shit. I’m going to let her eat first. Then, I swear, I’ll give her the letter.
We quickly fix ourselves some Thanksgiving sandwiches—my favorite—and head back into the media room to see what Christmas movie we can find. I love that she loves Christmas. I’m the same way. My mom always played Christmas music while prepping for Thanksgiving, and for me, that was the start of the season. I guess things were the same way for Ceese in her family.
“Kyle, if you shake your leg one more time, I’m going to fucking break it,” she snaps and slams her hand down on my leg. That makes it the third time she’s yelled at me for that. We’re on movie number two and my anxiety over this letter has been going through the roof.
“Sorry,” I sigh and rub my face.
“What is the matter with you? You’ve had nothing but nervous energy the past two hours.”
“Fuck it, I’ve procrastinated long enough.” I get up. “Wait here, I’ll be right back,” I say before heading out to the kitchen. I grab the infamous letter and head back . . . slowly. “Ceese, this came for you today.” I hold it out to her.
“Today? But it’s a holiday.” She furrows her brows.
“Only to the crazy people, who get up at two a.m. to stand in lines for the best deals.”
“Really?”
“Yes. I know; it’s hard to believe.”
She grabs the letter from me, skimming it until she sees what I know she sees—the sender’s information. She drops the letter and stands up; moving away from it like it’s going to explode. “Why didn’t you just throw that out? Why would you subject me to anything that bastard has to say?” she yells.
“I think you should read it. It might help you to have some closure on whatever he did.” I lift the envelope and hold it out to her again.
“I don’t want to read an apology from him. That won’t bring me closure! Seeing him burn in hell will give me closure!”
“You just might be getting your wish, Ceese.” I look down.
“What do you mean?” she asks. I ignore. “Kyle! What do you mean?!”
“Don’t get mad,” I start. Brilliant way to go about it, right? “I did a little digging on Drew.”
“What? Why?!”
“I just needed to know where the son of bitch was, what he was up to, and if there was any criminal record on him. That’s all—I wasn’t going to do anything with it. Not at the moment, at least.” I close the gap she caused between us. “I think you should read that letter. Look, I don’t know what he did and I’m not going to force you to tell me. I don’t want you to tell me until you are ready. However, this letter might have the answers to the questions you’ve been asking yourself for fifteen years. Don’t wait another day, baby. It’s time to heal fully from this—if you can.”
“Why would you call me ‘baby’? I’ve asked you time and time again not to call me that!” she screams, her eyes welling up.
“Ceese, it’s time. Open the letter.” I put it in her hands, ignoring her misplaced anger.
“I don’t want to. There’s nothing important enough in there for me to do this to myself. Is that what you want, Kyle? You want me to read this letter so I can freak out and start pushing you away again? Are you done with me—looking for a way out that won’t make you look like the jerk?!” She pushes me.
“Stop it.” Push. “Stop it, Ceese.” Push. “Stop! It!” I yell in her face.
I no sooner bounce back from that and she’s pounding on my chest with her fists. I grab her by the wrists. “Goddamn it, Ceese, stop!” I pin them behind her back. She hocks back. Oh, hell no! My left hand lets go of her wrist and I grab her face from underneath her chin. “Don’t you fucking dare spit in my face! You can beat the shit out of me, but you will not spit in my face. We will be through. Do you understand me?!” I hate to admit this, but I have such a hold on her face that she couldn’t spit at this moment if she wanted to. I’m not proud of this, you must know, but I will not tolerate being so disrespected. Slowly, the tension leaves her body and she starts crying. Her right hand comes up to my left arm and she grasps it gently; she pats it. “You good, now?” I ask. She nods and I let go of my hold. She falls forward, into my chest, and sobs her beautiful little heart out. All I can do is just stand here and hold her . . . be her rock.
I take in a deep breath. “He’s dying, Ceese.”
Her head jerks up, “What?” her voice cracks.
“He’s dying. He has Hodgkin’s Lymphoma. Treatment was unsuccessful for him.”
“No, Kyle. How could you even get that information?” She shakes her head in what seems like disbelief.
“You hire people who know people, beautiful. It’s not as difficult as they would like it to be.” I push her tears away with my thumbs.
“I don’t . . . I don’t think I can do this.” She takes in a shaky breath. “Can you read it to me?”
“If that’s what you need, I have no problem doing that for you.” I tilt my head, studying her to get the final ok. She nods slightly then points to the couch. We head over and sit. She takes in another deep breath.
I wait.
“Okay,” she says after a few minutes have gone by.
“Okay.” I copy her and open the letter. “Wow. He writes like a girl,” I chuckle to ease the tension of this moment.
“I know. I used to tease him all the time.” She laughs then, as if she remembers, her chin quivers. Christ, it’s like everything that happened is still so fresh for her after all these years.
“Ready?
“Yes.”
I look down.
Dear CiCi,
If you are reading this letter, it’s safe to say that I am no longer in this world. My lawyer had explicit instructions not to mail this till after my passing.
“Wait—what?” CiCi cries.
“He’s gone, Birkita.” I repeat then watch as she falls apart, sobbing for someone that once held her heart in the palm of his hands. I’m a little shocked at her response and at the same time, not so much. CiCi loves fiercely and gathering from her response, she’s the type who will always love you no matter what happens. I have mixed emotions, myself, about her response. She waves me on. I look back down.
I have played this conversation over and over again in my mind for the past fifteen years. And yet, I don’t know where to begin. You were the love of my life and I destroyed everything we had become and everything we had planned to be because I needed to be accepted by that son of a bitch I call Father. I can’t tell you how so very sorry I am for what happened.
One thing is for sure: you deserve answers. If this letter leaves you with nothing else, at least you will know why I did what I did. As you know, I was desperately trying to get accepted into Psi Gamma Alpha for the second year in a row. My father gave me hell for not making it the first time. He said I was an embarrassment. I was determined and it paid off. I made it to the secret challenge. It took them three weeks to get it from me. I kept postponing, saying I didn’t have it yet. Then, with the deadline looming and another horrific argument with my father, I caved.
I told myself, “She’ll hardly ever see these guys. Once we graduate, she’ll never see any of them again.” I wish I could go back and knock some sense into myself. I knew what they were doing was wrong. I knew I was wrong for not only allowing it but being a part of it, as well. What a fucking coward I was. And I thought I had the right to walk around calling myself a man. I wasn’t a man; I was a very stupid, lost boy, trying desperately—at any cost—to have his father “find” him.
You never knew the rage that I felt at that moment, when I was allowing them to watch, my father to win. I had gotten up to turn it off and end my pledge. But then I saw you and the horrified look on your face.
“Ceese, I’m lost. What the fuck happened?” I stop reading and glance up at her. She is silently crying. I grab some tissues off the table and hand them to her.
She lays her head in her palms then runs them down, vigorously wiping her tears away and rubbing her face. She takes in a deep, shaky breath. “As you know, I went over to his frat house to tell him about the baby. It was a surprise visit. Well, no one was more surprised than I was. When I heard a bunch of the guys cheering and carrying on in their big living room where they watched movies and sports, I headed down the hall and into the room. At first, I was slightly chuckling at the way they were carrying on. That is until I looked to see what they were watching that was causing all the commotion.” She tries to start the next sentence but she’s hyperventilating a little bit.
“Shh . . . shh. Take your time.” I go to hug her but she pushes away.
“I can’t . . . I don’t want to hug right now. I just need to get this out,” her voice finally steadies again.
“Okay.” I nod.
“When I looked at the screen, I realized it was me. Drew, unbeknownst to me, had videotaped the first time we made love; when he took my virginity.”
“What?!”
“Yup. And there they were, all of those sick bastards, cheering Drew on, congratulating him on how fucking hot I was. Yelling out all kinds of personal questions: was I really tight, was I a squirter, did I let him fuck me in the ass. I was horrified. That night I lost my virginity was so beautiful to me and within moments, it became the ugliest night of my life. Drew’s right. He did look as if he was about to turn it off, but then he saw me. The color drained from his face. I didn’t care, though. I ran over to the TV and ripped out the video. I think they were all just in shock because no one tried to stop me. I ran. I ran so fast and hard, I fell . . . like one of those dumb bitches in a horror movie.” She chuckles slightly at her last comment. That’s CiCi for ya, always trying to find the funny in the worst kind of situations. And, damn it, if that isn’t one of the reasons why I love her so much.
A lot of things are making sense to me now: no video sex, the alarm over somebody seeing us through our windows, and the infamous wall. I’m a little unsure about the whole visual fucker thing, but it does make sense when you think about it. It’s her way of controlling who sees her pleasure. That’s my take on it anyhow, but I’m no Maddie St. Claire.
“Sometimes I get so mad at myself for letting this one incident hold so much power over me for so many years, especially when you came along, Kyle. I should’ve gotten over it a while back.”
“CiCi, are you fucking kidding me, right now? Get over it?” I look at her as if she has five heads.
“Well, it’s not like I got raped.” She looks down.
“What he did was a violation to you. First, he taped you without you knowing. Second, he showed it to others! Why would that be something you would just get over? You only consented to sex. You did not consent to the others. How could you not be traumatized by what he did? Don’t ever under validate the magnitude of responsibility his actions have over the length of time you’ve grieved or the mistrust you’ve had in relationships since.” I palm her face.
“You sound a little like Maddie.” She gives me a weak smile.
“Good. Maddie’s a smart chick.”
“You’re a smart chick, too.” Her smile gets bigger. I groan with frustration and love before I plant a big kiss on her lips.
“Do you want me to continue with the letter?”
“Yes, please.”
I pick it back up and scan over to find where I left off. Ah!
I was frozen. No.
I was a coward. After a few minutes, I finally pulled myself together enough to run after you. I stopped the moment I got to your dorm. Your light was on and I could see you moving around, shifting stuff; and I knew. I knew that I had lost you. It didn’t matter what brilliant line or two came out of my mouth; I had destroyed us.
I wasn’t surprised the next day when several people told me you were dropping out. My guilt, though, went through the roof. I not only destroyed our future, I possibly was single-handedly destroying yours. I could only pray that you would transfer to another school for spring. I know that you never became a Veterinarian like you had dreamed of. I am happy that you did at least become a groomer and opened your own business up. Yes, you can add creeper to the many names you have probably called me over the years. I couldn’t help it. I never stopped loving you. Of course, I wanted to make sure you were ok. But you weren’t, were you?
I know about the baby.
I stop and look up at her when she gasps. She has her mouth covered with her hand and she signals me with the other to keep reading.
One of our project buddies in the English class we took together came up to me, asking if you were okay. She said she saw you coming out of one of the parenting clinics in town, crying. I knew there would only be one reason for you to be there. I know you, Ceese. As much as you understand both sides of the argument over abortion, you always said you would never go through with something like that—it had to be a dire situation for you to do that. I did that. I put you in such a dark place, it made you do something you would’ve never done. I had realized at that moment—I succeeded. I was now just like my father. He too had put me in such a dark place, it made me do something I would’ve never done.
In the Mix Page 28