by Emerson Rose
“I used to beg my aunt Angelica to blindfold me so I could experience the world the way she did. I learned how to maneuver around her house and then it became a challenge for me to do it everywhere I could. I’ve memorized every square foot of every home I’ve ever owned, every space I’ve spent time in.”
“That’s a very compassionate thing for a little boy to do.” I lean in and kiss him on the cheek softly as we walk down the hall toward his bedroom.
He wasn’t always a monster. He started out pure and loving like anyone else. It was his parents who fucked him up.
He reaches into his pocket and hands me a tiny metal box of Altoids mints.
“Why did you get sick?” he asks, and I roll my eyes even though he can’t see me. I take two and pop them in my mouth. I hadn’t realized how bad it tasted until now.
“Stress. Watching you rage around the house like a lunatic. Being plucked from bed drugged up on sleeping pills. A panic room. Death SD cards, nothing big.”
He inhales and puffs his cheeks before blowing the air out slowly. “I’m sorry, Imani.”
“I know, but you shouldn’t have to be. It’s nobody’s fault, but we do need to find a way to fix this.”
“My head hurts like hell, and I’m so tired.”
“Bed,” I say, and guide him through the mess he made in his room to his bed.
“Sit.” He reaches out and touches the mattress before sitting down.
“I’m the boss, remember?” The thought of him being in charge of me makes my libido jump up and down and clap her hands. I’m desperate for him to rule over me. I want to be worshiped and adored by his talented mouth, and his expert hands.
I press my lips softly on his and I whisper against them, “Yes, I know.” He reaches for me, sliding his hands inside my robe and around to cup my ass and pull me between his legs.
“I need you, Imani.” In a blink the world disappears and nothing matters more than us being together right now. I forget that he can’t see, that his head aches, and he’s tired. I forget he’s just traumatized an entire house full of people including myself. I forget that he could turn into a raging maniac at the drop of a hat.
All I feel is an urgency to give him everything, fulfill every one of his desires and satisfy all of his needs.
There are too many barriers separating us. I need to be naked and plastered against him. I need to feel the thickness of his hard cock gliding in and out of me right now.
I thread my fingers through his hair and lunge for his mouth taking what I so desperately need. He moans against my lips and slides his hands up my arms to move my hands back to my sides.
“Slow. I want you slow, Imani. I want to take my time acquainting myself with your body with no sight. I need to see you with my hands.”
Holy shit, I can’t say no to that.
Placing one hand on the small of my back, he pulls me close again but I keep my hands at my sides. I remember this game; it’s hard not to touch, but in the end it’s oh, so rewarding.
“You smell so fucking good,” he says into my neck, inhaling deeply. I love it when he talks dirty. He always speaks so formally in everyday life. I get a whole different dialog when we are alone like this and it makes me wet.
He peruses my body kissing and licking until he pushes my robe off of my shoulders. When it pools at my feet, a shiver runs up my spine.
He pulls me onto the bed with him and spreads me out on my back. He kneels between my legs, “Arm’s up.”
Done.
“Keep them there until I say otherwise.” I close my eyes, too. We may as well be on the same playing field. If we’re going to go slow I need less stimulation and right now sight is the only one I’m in control of.
His hands glide from my ankles to my knees with a tenderness I’ve not experienced with him before. He isn’t kidding about taking it slow. I think I’m about to experience a leisurely pleasure filled torture.
He takes forever touching and tasting every inch of my skin until an ache nearing pain has built between my legs. He hooks his hands behind my knees to open them wide and I gasp.
“Good things come to those who wait,” he says, as he massages the inside of my thighs.
“Making love blind is like I always imagined it would be. Sight makes it easy to get turned on. This is more of a challenge. A delicious challenge. God, you’re so soft.”
He kisses the inside of my thigh. “And smooth,” he says, mirroring the kiss on the other side.
God help me, I’m never going to make it through this.
“And warm,” he says, placing a kiss directly above ground zero. I arch my back and clutch the sheets above my head as he softly kisses me there where my panties have been soaked since he said the words ‘I need you.’
“These need to go. Up,” he commands, and I lift my ass up so he can remove them. “Now the rest of you needs undressing. I love dressing you, but undressing you is much more interesting.
I have to admit, I will miss seeing your eyes when you come for me, my beautiful Imani.” My breath hitches in my throat and my head swims as he works my nightie up over my breasts stopping for a taste along the way.
“Up,” he says, and I raise up on my elbows just enough for him to work the thin material over my head.
“Keep your hands here,” he says, grasping both of my tiny wrists with one hand and pressing down on them to make sure I understand.
“Good girl. Anticipation is the best aphrodisiac. I promise it will be so good when we get there,” he whispers in my ear.
I open my eyes a slit and watch him pull his shirt off with one hand and toss it on the floor. I couldn’t resist, he’s beautiful.
What started as a peek ended up being a visual feast of his bronze skin, chiseled chest, and eight-pack of abs.
His arms flex with every movement as he unzips my favorite soft worn jeans. This is my favorite part; it’s like Christmas morning when you’ve waited to open the best gift last. I’m glad I opened my eyes. I’ve missed this so much.
With nothing separating us he continues exploring every inch of my skin, tasting me from my fingertips to the dimples on the small of my back.
Now he knows all the mysteries of my body, the sensitive spots that make me gasp and the ticklish places that make me squirm, he owns them all. He is thoroughly educated on his possessions.
I’m on the edge of desire overload and tears when he slides his hand under my belly and pulls my hips up. No more taking it slow, he’s done luxuriously torturing me.
His cock presses against my soaked core as he positions me perfectly with his hands wrapped around my hips. I am wound up so tight I feel myself quivering in his hands.
“Please, Marcus… please,” I beg and he rewards my ever-loving patience with a deep thrust that brings stars to my eyes.
“Fuck, baby. See why we wait?”
He slides out and thrusts into me again. And I claw at the sheets.
Oh God, yes, I see why we wait.
“See why you should always listen to me?”
He slams into me again and I cry out in my hoarse voice.
“Yes, yes, yes,” I whisper over and over with every glorious punishing thrust. He plunges into me balls deep and I press my greedy ass against him.
Every time he enters me, a burst of electricity shoots through my nervous system until my orgasm is consuming me.
“Let it go, baby, come with me,” he commands, and I do.
Holy hell, I do.
If I could scream, every person within a mile would hear me come. I’m so ready and primed I explode around him, arching my back trying to squeeze every last sensation out of the experience.
I escape into an all-encompassing orgasm that rocks my very foundation. He's seconds behind me, perfectly timed so that I can ride out my orgasm as long as possible. He roars my name and grips my ass, digging his fingers into the soft flesh of my hips, pulsing inside of me. I’ve never felt anything like this before; it’s more than just sex and lo
ve, it’s spiritual.
We wilt and collapse onto the mattress together.
“If I died right now my life would be complete,” he says, pressing a kiss against the side of my face from behind. I squirm under him and he rolls off of me. I turn over and pull him against me assuming that the hand above my head rule doesn’t apply anymore.
I wrap my arms around his neck and nuzzle his damp cheek. It’s a relief to be able to touch him after at least an hour of disciplined restraint. I hold him tight and whisper into his ear, “Nobody’s dying, we have so much more to do. You’re not leaving me for a very long time, baby.”
He tightens our embrace, rolling us onto our sides and I watch as a single tear slides from the corner of his eye onto my arm. He doesn’t believe me. Everything about the expression on his face says he has no hope for a future together. My heart shatters into a billion pieces for him, for me, for us.
Fifty
We lie tangled in each other’s arms for a while returning to reality.
I wonder where Elijah and Mr. Black went off to? They never would have left us alone for this long in the same room after what happened earlier.
Closed circuit cameras, great, that’s just great. I’m going to hope that they didn’t just get a big eyeful of Marcus and me in multiple compromising positions. Knowing how seriously they are about my safety, I’m sure they did.
After a while, Marcus’s breathing slows to a relaxing pace but there’s no way I can sleep now. The effect of my sleeping pills was burned away by adrenaline hours ago. I stare at the ceiling and count the tiny metal tiles without thinking. It’s something I started doing when I was in the hospital a lot having one reconstructive surgery after another. You can only do so many crossword puzzles and word searches before you get creative with your surroundings. My heart is heavy as I think of all the losses Marcus has endured throughout his life. And now he has lost his sight as well. I know a thing or two about brain injuries and tumors from working in the ICU but I want to talk to a professional. Marcus’s case may be problematic, challenging even, but I refuse to believe it’s impossible. My head is clear and I want to study the files I was trying to read earlier. Even though I’m exhausted, I feel like doing something constructive. Gently, I prop up on my elbow trying not to disturb him.
“You’re not going anywhere, lady,” he growls, pulling me on top of him. We are such a mess it’s almost comical. He can’t see me and I can’t talk to him.
I lay my cheek on his chest and run my hands over his skin feeling the smooth muscles marred only by an occasional scar. I’ve seen them all when I bathed him in the hospital but I didn’t know then what I know now.
I hate the thought of him suffering physical and emotional abuse at the hands of his own mother. Not to mention he took on more than his share to protect his sister.
His mother may have been mentally ill but it doesn’t make me hate her any less. I hate that there is no cure for what she had but it didn’t have to be that way. His father knew there was something wrong, he should have gotten her help.
“I’m cold,” I say, only partially lying. It’s a little chilly but he has enough body heat to keep me warm.
He releases me and I slide off the bed and begin to pick up the bedding that’s strewn everywhere. Keeping one eye on Marcus, I slip my nightgown over my head and make quick work of tidying up the room. I make the bed around him and tuck a pillow under his head while he lies silently waiting for me to return.
I cover him up and place the rest of the pillows on the bed and notice him rubbing the back of his neck. He bends one knee up and drapes his arm over it, waiting patiently.
After righting knick-knacks, candles and a clock, I pad across the room feeling him tracking my movements.
“Are you finished?”
“No,” I say and try to clear the frog from my throat. “I’m going to get your medical records. I didn’t get time to look over them earlier. I was a little distracted.” He may as well get used to the idea that we aren’t giving up.
“Imani, don’t waste… never mind, go ahead and read them if it makes you feel better. I can’t stop you and you may as well know everything there is to know.”
Good, finally he’s being logical. I grasp his hand and give it a squeeze.
“How much can you see?”
“Nothing.” Knowing how much he hates the dark gives me even more reason to find him the help he needs.
“I’ll be right back.” I try to move away but he won’t let go of my hand. I stop and he tightens his grip before he finally releases me.
My strong capable alpha male is starting to deteriorate, and I can’t stand it. I need to find someone to help him before he gives up for real. I also have to prepare myself to face Elijah and Mr. Black, who have probably just watched me have sex with their boss. Wonderful.
As soon as I step into the hall, Elijah appears at my side. We exchange a nervous look and he falls into step with me as I try to remember the way back to the den.
“What are you going to do?” He hands me my phone to answer him with so I can save my voice.
I’m going to get him help.
He reads my message and nods his head in agreement. “Thank you, Imani, for not giving up on him. He’s a good man. I know he doesn’t think so and he’s made some monumental mistakes but I’ve never seen him happy like he is with you. He might have a chance with you in his corner.”
We stop in front of the door to the den and I turn and look long and hard into Elijah’s eyes. He loves Marcus, it’s clear to see. As a friend, a boss, and maybe more but I don’t have time to ponder his sexuality. I’m on a mission to find a doctor who is willing and competent to operate on Marcus.
I type on my phone and hand it to him.
Thank you, he’s lucky to have you in his life, too.
He reads the message and opens the door to the den. He waits for me to pass never making eye contact.
The files are on the desk outside the panic room and his electronic records are pulled up on a desktop computer.
No sign of the death SD card. Good. If I ever see that thing again, I’m going to stomp on it and throw it away. I text Elijah one more message before starting my research.
Will you tell him I’m going to work in here on his computer for a while? He’s resting in bed.
“Of course, I’ll leave you to it.” I sit behind the whale of a desk and watch him walk away. I secretly hope he’s not gay, I always thought it would be fun to introduce him to Lana. They’re total opposites, but I think they would be good together.
I flip through file after file. It’s depressing; doctor after doctor have deemed him a hopeless case. He’s had multiple rounds of radiation to keep the size of the tumor under control but about six months ago he stopped.
That’s probably what’s caused the blindness. It’s spread out so much it’s pressing against his optic nerves, robbing him of his sight.
After two hours, I feel like I have familiarized myself with his condition enough to make some phone calls. He may have seen the most expensive doctors money can buy, but that’s not always important. Some of the best physicians are humble and work quietly under the radar doing amazing things right in your own backyard.
Dr. Carlson lives in Seattle and travels around the world doing charity work for people with brain injuries. I’ve met him several times at Seattle Trinity and I’ve seen him perform miracles.
He’s virtually an unknown genius but I think Marcus’s case is right up his alley. Now I just have to figure out how to convince Marcus to go along with this and contact Dr. Carlson.
“Did you find what you needed?” My ass pops up out of the leather office chair at the sound of his voice.
“Shit, Marcus, you scared me!” He’s standing just inside the door looking ever the mogul millionaire restaurant entrepreneur that he is. I would never guess he couldn’t see if I didn’t already know. He even seems to have his eyes locked on mine when he speaks to me. I put my feelers
out to make sure I’m dealing with my Marcus and not evil Marcus. I wonder what evil Marcus thinks of being blind?
The air is undisturbed by the bad juju that accompanies Marcus’s alter ego. I consider crooking my finger to draw him closer but then I remember that he won’t see me and my heart clenches.
“Come here,” I whisper as loud as I can. The house is so quiet he has no trouble hearing me. It’s a proven fact that when one sense is lost the others sharpen.
I watch in awe as he makes his way to a chair on the other side of the desk and sits, crossing his foot over his knee. I can hardly believe he can’t see.
“I told you I memorized every room, counted every pace between rooms and furniture. I know my way around, as long as nobody rearranges the furniture.” One delicious corner of his mouth lifts in a smirk and I realize how much I miss that.
Even with everything happening he can still melt me on the spot with that one tiny facial expression.
“Close your mouth, my love.”
For fuck’s sake, now how does he know my mouth is hanging open? He leans forward, putting one foot on the floor.
“I’m going to tell you a little secret, baby. Do you want to know how I read your mind?”
I slump back into my chair and nod. It doesn’t matter that he can’t see the gesture, somehow he knows what’s going on anyway.
“First of all, there is a magnetic force that draws us together, I’m sure you’ve felt it. It’s energy, a life force in and of itself. I’m in tune with you, I can feel when your mood shifts. Second, you have a telltale-breathing pattern. I have excellent hearing so you could say I can hear what shape your pretty mouth is in, how excited you are, how angry… how scared. Essentially, I read your mind by feeling you out with my senses. Now you know my secret. Don’t try to trick me by changing your ways, I’ll figure it out.”
I’m speechless, literally. I never stop learning amazing things about this man. I plan on keeping him around until we are old and grey. Maybe by then I’ll have learned to read him as well as he does me.