The Legend

by Shey Stahl

  Reaching down to his hand, I gripped it tighter. “Hold me tighter.” I let out this whore moan that sounded like my pit lizard days. “I want to scream in pain.”

  He inhaled sharply, surprised. “You want me to do what?”

  “Be rough.” I was starting to sweat and become all frantic like I would combust if he wasn’t going to give me something that showed we still had it. “I want to scream in pain.”

  He hesitated but then reached his hand up and grasped my neck. “Like that?”

  “Harder.”

  He wasn’t comfortable at all. I knew that. His eyes darted to his hand and my face again. “Is that too tight?”

  “No.” I whimpered unwinding around him. “It’s so good. So fucking good.”

  In the heat of the moment, aggression got the best of him and he forcefully grabbed the sheets fisting them in his hands. “Jesus, you’re so fucking sexing.” He called at throwing his head forward.

  “Tighter, squeeze my neck tighter!”

  It was official. I was becoming a porn star.

  “No.” he shook his head against the pillow, his eyes squeezed shut enjoying the movements. “I’ll hurt you.”

  “No you won’t.” I shook my head trying to squeeze his hands tighter. “Just do it!”

  “Where is this coming from?” Jameson murmured, amused when I moaned at the contact as he gave a little more pressure.

  “No, harder.”

  “No, Sway.” He moved his hands away from my neck and raised his upper body to look at me. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

  “Are you going to do it, or should I just take care of myself?” I snapped feeling the emotion and embarrassment rush through me.

  Given, I was embarrassed at that point. I said what came to mind.

  His expression of curiosity turned to anger.

  Leaning back on his heels, his gaze wasn’t pleasant. “I know what you’re doing.” His tone cut through me. “You think things will go back to normal if you try something new. But you’re missing the point.”

  “Oh yeah,” I shook my head with attitude. “What’s that?” I too sat up against the headboard.

  “I love you.” He growled between clenched teeth blistering my skin. “That has never changed.”

  “I know that.”

  “Then what’s this all about?”

  “Just fuck me!” I yelled. “That’s all I want!” I had completely lost it and continued my rant reaching my emotional threshold yet again. “I want what we used to have. I want the hot dirty sex that had you ripping my panties off in your motor coach and taking me on the hood of your race car. I want to destroy bedrooms and closets and break our shower door again. I want to take you to the hospital again so you can have your ass stitched from falling through the shower door. I want kinky!”

  I’m not entirely sure what my verbal lashing had done but I was on my back again in a second and he was forcefully entering me.

  “Is this what you want? You want me to treat you like this, like you mean nothing to me? You want me to disrespect you to make you feel sexy?” His control was gone. He was pissed and more so than I’d see in a while. More so, it was the result of me. “Does this fucking turn you on?” His fiery eyes full of anger met mine and his hand that was grasping my hip and causing bruises, grabbed a handful of my hair and yanked my head back so his mouth had access to my skin. I moaned.

  “Is that what you want?” he repeated as his teeth found my heated flesh.

  I didn’t say anything in reply because I had no idea what to say at that point.

  He wouldn’t look at me, instead, his eyes squeezed shut, his head bent forward but his breathing was harsh.

  Was he enjoying it?

  Maybe.

  He kept his movements up. With force, he slammed into me, my breath expelled in a heavy gasp.

  The bed shook and the headboard knocked against the wall as he pushed into me over and over again. His grip hurt, his touch rough but strangely, I was enjoying it.

  I couldn’t move. Not with his strong body pressed to mine and his hold on my wrists that were now above my head. Pinned beneath him was what I wanted, so I thought.

  The angle of his hips and the forceful pushes wasn’t exactly comfortable and I knew when my head hit the headboard again I just might get a concussion from this.

  I went to move to adjust his hold on me when it got to be too tight.

  “Don’t move.” He growled. “You wanted it rough.”

  We apparently had entirely different ideas about what rough meant now.

  It crossed my mind that I had I pushed too much. This wasn’t exactly what I had planned.

  Though I was turned on, I was balling by the end and he knew it.

  He didn’t look at me and when he came, his body shook, his back arching into me, his mouth at my neck bit down hard and grunted with each forceful push his hips twitching as he finished panting into my neck.

  My body shook with silent sobs when he pushed himself up on his elbows and looked down at me.

  That’s when I saw the glistening on his. I wasn’t sure if his emotion was from being so forceful or the fact that I was crying. “Don’t ever ask me to do that again.”

  It wasn’t up for conversation and before I could say anymore or defend my reasoning, he removed himself completely and headed for the bathroom, the door slammed behind him.

  I laid there for close to an hour crying, confused and strangely turned on by his aggression. Jameson has always been a hothead and easily set off but never when we were together intimately. I wanted to call Alley and ask her if that’d ever happened to her but then again I didn’t really want to think of Spencer that way or know any details.

  When he finally came to bed, I decided I needed to explain. “I only suggested that because I feel like we’ve lost our connection. I hate this.” I motioned between us. “Something is wrong and I thought being different might spark something.”

  He sighed heavily, weariness settling over us, and rolled to the side away from me. Pushing himself up onto his elbows, he hesitated and then looked over at me. Like a poison in his blood, he hated this as much as I did.

  “You think I want to feel this shit?” he then pushed himself from the bed to stand beside it, his arms raised defensively. “You think I want to be so detached I can’t even make love to my wife the way I want to? I want to. I want to spend days in bed with you and never let go. I want it so fucking bad that it’s all I think about! I can’t even pass that fucking test because my mind isn’t even in it. My mind is on you.” The ache is his voice hurt and his words seemed to weigh a thousand pounds. I knew very well the pain he was trying to avoid. “Since my...” his voice faded as if the pain was too much. “I don’t want to feel this shit. I don’t want any of it!”

  For the first time in months, he showed some outright aggression and slammed his fist into our bedroom wall as he left the room.

  And here came the tears again.

  I wondered if this happened in everyone’s marriage or if we were the only ones. I wondered what other wives did when the man who held their heart in their hands became so distant they weren’t even present when they were. I wondered what porn stars did when they were too sore to move because I was at that point. I wondered if I would feel like I had run a marathon in the morning through barbwire and boulders. Then I cried some more when he didn’t come back to bed.

  I missed his eyes that sparkled when we were together and our shared moments. I missed the boy that had promised me forever under thousands of twinkle lights and a fresh blanket of snow.

  That promise to me was still there. Under that pain, that regret, the confusion, was a boy fighting. Only now, his fight was a little different.

  When he didn’t come to bed, I went looking for him.

  I found him, sitting on the kitchen floor in jeans, no shirt, with a bottle Jack resting at his bare feet again. Sighing, his left hand grabbed the bottle and lifted it to his lips. After taking a drink
, his head fell back against the cabinet, the bottle dangling in his hand.

  Not wanting to pry, again, I left him alone. He came to bed not long after that and though we had an argument, our bodies found each other in the night and by morning I was wrapped around him and comfortable. When the light in our room brightened with each passing minute, he whispered in my ear, low and raspy. “I love you.”

  “I love you too.” I said meaning every word of it.

  That morning, my third day as a porn star, Alley came over again with a new bottle of Tequila.

  Casten eyed her when he got home from Eldora with Tommy and Willie around six. “Should I set up some kind of intervention?” he leaned against the counter with a smirk that resembled one of Jameson’s and waved his hands around to our mess. “It seems this is becoming a ritual.”

  Alley had been in the middle of explaining to me that I could try lingerie or even toys. I had seen a dildo before and I didn’t think that would be necessary.

  I wasn’t exactly sure what she meant by toys but neither did my brain so we both gave up trying and drank with her. It seemed logical.

  When the bottle of Tequila showed up while we were making dinner—Alley started to make more sense to me.

  But the reality of it was that Alley and Rosa were instigating my whorish ways.

  We were so drunk by the time dinner was done that it wasn’t even edible and I had to order pizza.

  Just about the time the pizza arrived, which Casten had to pay for since we were on the floor, Jameson came home with Spencer. Tommy and Willie were still sitting in the kitchen watching us with Casten. They didn’t know what we were talking about because we gave up that topic and moved onto more important topics.

  Aiden’s obsession with his socks.

  I was telling Alley about the time Emma and Aiden had fell through the door in Costa Rica and Jameson nearly knocked himself out.

  Jameson glanced at Alley, who was now sprawled across our kitchen floor, as he moved to the counter to grab a few pieces of pizza.

  “She’s fine.” I told Jameson and Spencer who were staring at us curiously. “I’m sure of it.”

  Smiling he gave me a nod and then walked into the family room with Spencer and Tommy to watch the baseball game. Apparently Lucas was pitching tonight for the Mariners.

  And when Jameson went to bed after the game without saying anything, my next move was to burst into tears because that seemed appropriate to me, which caused Willie to look at me. Willie was a great drinking partner because he had been arrested for indecent exposure a record number of times and could give a flying fuck about social propriety.

  He walked over and, with absolutely no conviction, and put his hand out to comfort me.

  “I’m going to stop coming over if every time I do, you cry. I can’t take it.” Willie said looking at me and then bottle of Jack in my hand.

  “How is that any different from any other girl you know?”

  Willie retracted his hand and crossed his arms over his chest. “I should be offended by that…but I’m not.”

  I smiled and offered the bottle, which he took.

  “I’ll be honest with you,” Willie handed the bottle back to me after taking a drink, “the last time I was this drunk I woke up in the back of the hauler wearing red hooker boots and a table cloth.”

  “Oh yeah, when was that?”

  “Last Tuesday.”

  Like I said, no propriety but Willie was great. He sat there all night and early into the morning drinking with me and Alley and eventually Spencer too. It was a good thing they all lived close.

  So on my fourth day of my whorish ways, I went to the store when Jameson left for the shop. He had a test session in Charlotte at noon and then he said he would head to the shop after that for a few hours and then be back home. He was in a good mood, kissed me goodbye and even got me coffee before he left. I knew that he didn’t want to feel the missing piece that was there but just like the determined pit lizard I was to get him initially twenty years ago. I was going to get through this and find my Dirty Heathen again.

  That night, standing in our room, I eyed my purchases and felt as if CPS would be at my door later. Who does this shit?

  Me.

  The Mama Wizard determined to get her Dirty Heathen back was who did that kind of shit.

  I wasn’t sure where he would be but I thought for sure he would be at the shop so I dressed myself in these black lacy panties and bra to match it with knee highs and a garter belt thing. I was all whored out complete with black heels I found buried in my closet. I finished out this appearance with a tease to my long hair and added some mascara and a little blush.

  Standing in the floor length mirror, I felt that I looked good but a little hideous. Throwing a black long trench coat on, I headed for the shop hoping I didn’t get pulled over looking like this.

  The metal door squeaked when I opened it. Don’t think I didn’t try to talk myself out of doing it either because I did. Matter of fact, I tried the entire way there.

  My mind and body came to one conclusion. Rape him.

  Just don’t ask him to hit you in the face.

  He was there watching the dyno and entering dad with Willie and Tommy.

  Tommy looked over his shoulder at me and then raised his eyebrows when he saw the heels, a low whistle escaped Tommy.

  “We’ll come back tomorrow man.” Tommy said when I gave him a look. Jameson had yet to turn around but nodded his head at Tommy and Willie.

  Smirking, he slowly turned in the chair to look at me.

  “What are you doing here?” he asked with his eyes wandering over my long black trench coat.

  “Oh, I just robbed a Chevron.” Walking closer, I let my hand travel up his arm and touch the side of his face. “I had some time to kill.”

  He smiled. “Did you get me some skittles?”

  “What are you, ten? Who eats those?”

  “Me. I eat those.”

  “I can think of something better to eat.”

  “Oh yeah, show me and let’s see.” He flipped his wrist for me to remove the coat.

  I dropped the coat and straddled him.

  He let out a chuckle. “Please don’t ask me to hit you again.”

  “Just fuck me.” I sighed moving my hips against the bulge I felt forming with each shift of my hips. “Fuck me like I’m all that’s on your mind. Fuck me like you can’t get enough of me.”

  I watched his face fall with each word that I spoke. I watched it fall but he didn’t answer either.

  And then he pushed me away gently.

  Well that sucks. Once again I turned him off.

  Taking my hand, he led me to the door and into the car. We drove back to the house in silence, confused.

  “I thought you had work to do?”

  “Yeah, well I’m tired.”

  And that sucks too.

  He was out of the car and heading inside the house as soon as the engine was shut off. I stepped out of the car slowly, shivering in the cool night air and regretting this ridiculous outfit.

  I practically had to run to catch up with him.

  Jameson stood straight, posture perfect, shoulders rigid, as he walked throughout the house and then upstairs. He wouldn’t look at me.

  I found him inside the bathroom fumbling with his last bottle of antibiotics and the lid he could never seem to get off. Prying it from his fingers, I got it open and then he motioned for me to go inside our room, his eyes on the floor.

  I wanted to ask him what his fucking problem was. I mean, I had been trying for three nights and all he did was get pissed off at me and reject my efforts.

  Standing outside the bathroom, I rustled through my dresser to find some more appropriate clothes. I was done being a porn star. I wasn’t cut out for such a hard lifestyle. Dropping the coat to the floor, I started to take my bra off but stopped.

  The door to the bathroom slammed, startling me. And then I was being lifted off the ground. My legs wra
pped around him on instinct.

  His lips crashed into mine, relentless and unyielding.

  I matched him with everything I had wanting everything he had.

  Maybe my porn star days weren’t over.

  He pushed me up against the wall and crushed me into the chocolate colored walls. Hot wet lips were against my throat. The thin fabric of my ridiculous outfit balled up in his fists as he pushed his hips into me. I could feel him right against all the places that missed him so much.

  He took a shaky breath and moaned into my mouth. It felt like the first breath he had taken since we got in here, labored and needy.

  I meet his eyes, wild and feral as he pulled at the straps of my garter trying to rip them away. He didn’t have to tug too hard and they were falling to the floor followed by my panties and bra.

  His kisses had an intensity I hadn’t seen in a while.

  “I can’t get enough of you.” He finally spoke. “I still want you every minute of the day. I still get hard when I think of you naked sprawled out before me.” His hand slipped from my cheek and down the valley between my breasts, eyes remaining locked with mine. “Please believe me when I say that.”

  Without saying anything, I brought his mouth back to mine wanting more of those intense kisses.

  We were on the bed in seconds and he was entering me the next.

  “Make love to me.” I begged holding onto him anywhere I could.

  I could feel his body shaking slightly. Catching his stare that was on me, I looked at him, really looked at him. “I love you.”

  Jameson let out a shaking breath that seemed emotional for him and nodded; his eyes glistened and then got watery. “I love you too honey.”

  His left hand, the hand I’d seen show so many his anger, softly touched my cheek, the other wound in my hair to tip my head back slightly. “I’m sorry. Please believe me.”

  His eyes remained intently focused on me, carefully watching. “Sway?”

  His hand rose hesitantly brushing the tears aside that I didn’t know had slipped away. Dipping his head, his fingers raised my chin for me to look at him. “Do you believe me?”

  “I do.”

  Shifting his hips, he began to move inside me. “I want you to know that I will give you whatever you want but I will never hurt you physically for pleasure. That’s not me.”