by Petra J Knox
He’s awake.
The door buzzed and opened slowly as tendrils of joy and hope seeped into my body, delivering much needed warmth. I was only allowed fifteen minutes per visit, and only a handful of times a day, so I had to make this one count until he was ready to be moved downstairs.
The nurses smiled at me when I passed the nurses station. A few gave me a big thumb’s up. I grinned back at them as I tried my hardest not to run in my excitement to see him.
The ICU was much darker on the night shift, the hushing noises and beeps from the various machines were the only sounds around me. Kage’s room was at the end of the semi-circle of rooms. I saw him as I got closer, where a dim light shone above his bed. I could see right away that he wasn’t on the ventilator anymore. Asleep and with his arms at his sides, he had a gown on under the blanket that covered him up to his chest.
Without taking my eyes off him, I put my purse down on the lone chair by the door as soon as I entered the room, then put my hand under the sanitary soap dispenser that hung on the wall. I rubbed my hands dry as I walked the few feet to his bed.
I noticed first-thing that his color was better. They had him sitting up at about thirty degrees instead of flat like I was used to seeing him on the bed. His neck was in a new brace, his cast on his left arm still there. Most of the bruises and swelling on his face were long gone. Without all the hook-ups now, and with him sitting up, he looked just like a regular patient in a hospital that had run into some bad luck, instead of a man at Death’s door.
Kage was a big man, tall and broad-shouldered. Since being here, he’d lost a lot of muscle mass, but he was still much bigger than me. Sitting up more, he looked even bigger.
I went around to the other side of his bed and gingerly sat down near his right hip. I picked up his heavy forearm and put it on my lap, then carefully scooted a little bit closer to him. His hand was so warm as I held it, threading my fingers into his lifeless ones. I could hear him breathing on his own, and the soft sound made me swallow as I felt my eyes mist over with wetness.
“You’re breathing, sweet man. All on your own now. Look at you.” I touched his face with nervous fingers, feeling the contrast of the soft scruff on his cheek.
I let out a gasp when I felt his fingers twitch against my own on my lap. My eyes went straight to the movement before moving back to his face. His eyes fluttered, just a tad, but didn’t open. I took another breath, in and out, slowly.
“I want you to come back to me now, Kage. We’re going to get you better. Pearl needs her—” I stopped talking then, my voice losing the war with words. I squeezed his hand instead and poured every single drop of love I had for him into it, then raised it to my lips and kissed it.
When I closed my eyes, the tears fell, christening our hands.
“Beautiful.”
I opened my eyes to see his twilight gaze upon me.
Time stopped as I drank him in.
“Say it again, sweet man.”
“Beautiful… girl,” he whispered slowly.
I laughed, my cheeks splitting almost in half as I smiled so hard. “Welcome back, baby,” I whispered around the tears building. “I’ve been waiting so long for you.”
“But… you… waited any…way.” He had no voice, only hushed sound, but it was the most wonderful music I’d ever heard.
My eyes gushed with tears, and I swiped them away with my free hand. I leaned forward, slowly, carefully, until my lips could touch his. Tenderly, I kissed him, then pulled back to look at those amazing eyes on me.
“Shh…” I told him. “No more talking, baby. I want you to rest.”
“I love…. you… Blue.”
Blue. His nickname for me from years before we married. ‘Bluebells in her hair.’ I hadn’t heard it in what felt like forever.
With my heart overflowing, I whispered back, “I love you, too, Mr. Pinn.”
His lips lifted in a hint of a smile, then his eyes closed, his breathing deepening as sleep took him into her healing arms once more.
Epilogue
Windmills of my Mind
Kage
One Year Later
“Night, night, Daddy.” Pearl checked that her nightlight was on, then snuggled deep into her bed, her blonde curls creating a golden nest around her head.
“Night, little goldfish.” I kissed her head, breathing in her watermelon and kiwi shampoo smell before pulling the string on her mermaid lamp. I walked to her door and looked back at my little girl. She’d be asleep in no time at all. The party had drained every bit of her today.
I quietly shut her door and walked downstairs in search of Faith. She was probably in the kitchen, still cleaning up. The dual party, celebrating one year of my recovery and our sixth wedding anniversary, had started at noon. I’d never seen the house filled with so many people, nor so much food. The hermit in me had been waiting hours for it to end, but I had to admit, I’d had a good time.
I passed my work room and juggled the door handle to check if it was locked, but it opened as I pressed down on the handle. I must’ve forgotten to lock it, that or Faith had brought someone from the party to see the new work done on the City.
I flicked the switch that turned on the overhead dim lighting.
My greatest creation took up most of the room. I’d been making miniatures for many years, and after my mother died when I was eighteen, leaving me a small fortune and the Harlequin Toy Company, I’d sold countless creations. But none brought me as much joy as The City of Lights.
It had only been a few months ago that I was able to return to my work. Therapies, surgeries, doctors, and recovering from the accident had swallowed up all my time. I had a couple more things to add to the City, and then it would be ready for mass production.
The release of the collection would coincide with Faith’s opening night—if all went as scheduled. Nights at the Carnivale was already gaining popularity as the must-see musical of the decade, even though it was still a year and a half away from rehearsals.
With my hands in my pockets, I walked over to the city I had built.
The one area that sat empty was the wharf on the west side, near the pine trees. I still felt a rising fear whenever I sat down to finish its design on paper. It was the wharf’s creation, after all, that had a hand in almost taking my life that night.
Being a protectionist, I had wanted more accuracy to marry up with my inspiration. At the time, I was living at the office. Faith was determined to end our marriage; I was determined to drown myself in work. So that week, I’d driven out to the coast, booked a hotel on the beach for a few days, and hired a boat to let me work right at the source. The captain couldn’t have been nicer. But I had no idea he had a drinking problem, until he’d taken us out in the intercoastal waters, at my request, and had lost control of the boat as we hit a knot at top speed. Before I knew it, it was a wrestling match between me and the deck, a lot of pain and chaos, and then the sea had swallowed my ass up.
I had drowned, died, and barely came back to life, but with massive damage to my shoulder, my neck, and had knocked my head so hard, I ended up in a coma.
But I fought. I fought my ass off. And when I woke up, Faith helped me fight some more.
My beautiful girl. The girl I met at a party one night, with bluebells in her hair. The girl I had given my heart and soul to. My beautiful wife. The one I’d almost lost twice. The one I was determined to never lose again.
With a smile, I turned off the light, locking and shutting the door behind me. I needed that woman in my arms, right now.
When I turned the corner, Crocket was standing in the hallway. He was sipping on his drink and looking at the pictures on the wall, the setting sun at his back. Wearing a white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up and dark slacks, he looked as if he’d just walked off the stage of some 1960s movie with the Rat Pack.
He didn’t turn around when he noticed me by his side. “Hey, kid. Tired?”
I laughed. “Of you all still
in my house.” I looked at the picture he was staring at. Me and Faith on our wedding day, right before the wedding reception. We had been married outside at some botanical garden that Faith had been enamored with. The ceremony had been beautiful, though. I’d never seen so many flowers in my life.
“I’ll tell you what, Kage,” my brother-in-law said after a few minutes, “it was a damn miracle. I thought we’d lost you for a while there. I really did.”
I put my hands in my pockets and didn’t know how to respond. Crocket was almost a father-figure to me, since my own was a bastard and had been sent to prison when I was still a boy. Pop had died behind bars right after Faith and I got married. I didn’t mourn him a bit until last year, when memories of him had been popping up in therapy. Usually, I’d never given him a thought except in passing a few times over the years.
Crocket was more than than the father I‘d never really had, though. He was also a friend, and I couldn’t bullshit him. It had taken me dying to realize that I sucked at opening up to other people, even with my wife. But that had all changed the night I woke up from the coma.
“I believe it was, too, Crock. A miracle. I’ve learned a shit load from it as well.”
“It saved your marriage.”
“That it did.”
“Made it stronger, looks like.”
I smiled. “Yes. And before you ask, we’re doing great.”
“I wasn’t going to, but I’m glad. I can see the love, kid.”
I looked at him and watched as he took a sip of his drink again. He was looking at me now, his soulful eyes that were nearly black.
Some hazy image floated to the surface. Him in a hat, one of those dapper numbers that called to mind Casablanca. I shook my head.
“What?” he asked.
“Nothing.”
He winked at me. “I’ll get out of your hair. Just need to tell Faith goodbye.”
“Headed that way myself.” With one last look at the two newlyweds, Mr. and Mrs. Pinn, I followed him to the kitchen.
Faith had changed into one of her sundresses—this one white, strapless, and too short for anyone’s eyes but mine. She was barefoot, and her hair was up in a messy bun. When she bent over to set a plate in the dishwasher, I about had a heart attack. The backs of her golden thighs were exposed, the hem of the dress just a couple of inches shy of her ass cheeks.
“Well, I think that’s our cue to head out,” Cleo said.
I tore my eyes away from my wife’s ass and looked at my aunt. The redheaded cheeky knockout was smirking at me as she tossed the dishtowel onto the island and walked over to me.
I cleared my throat, my face hot. “Thanks for coming, Aunt Cleo.” I kissed her on the cheek, but she grabbed me in for a real hug. The scent of roses swallowed me up as I grinned.
“I wouldn’t have missed it, Kage.” She pulled away and glanced at Crocket. “Walk me out, Dr. Gorgeous?”
Crocket bowed his head. “Of course.” He walked over to Faith first, gave her a hug, and whispered something in her ear that made her laugh. She pushed him away playfully.
“Off with you.” Faith was blushing from whatever her brother had said, then looked at my aunt. “Thanks for coming, Cleo, and for all the help. The party was just beautiful. You really have an eye for these things.”
Cleo enveloped my wife into a hug. “It was my pleasure, my girl.” When she pulled away, she looked at both of us. “You two have fun, now. And happy anniversary!” She grabbed her bag, then skipped over toward Crocket, who was waiting by the kitchen door. “Oh! I probably won’t see you until you guys get back from Maui, right?”
Faith and I were going on a second honeymoon, something we had started planning a few days after I’d gotten out of ICU and into a regular room. It had turned into a goal, the prize at the end of this one-year journey of recovery—not just mine, but Faith’s too. We had both worked so hard. Me with the physical and occupational therapy. Faith with counseling. Together, healing our marriage and setting it as our highest priority right next to Pearl.
“Probably not,” Faith said, coming up to me and putting her arm around me. “But we’ll see you at Pearl’s birthday party in a few weeks.”
They exchanged a few more words but I didn’t hear a thing. I was concentrating on my wife’s ass again. With the kitchen island between us and our guests, no one could see my hand reaching down behind us as I slipped it under her thin, cotton dress. I touched that sweet ass, rubbing my hand over each cheek.
I felt her arm tense around my back as she stood there still talking. Her breath hitched, and I heard the door close.
We were alone. Finally.
The kitchen was quiet, except for the dishwasher’s slushing rhythm.
My hand gripped her ass cheek. “Go lock the door, beautiful.”
As she walked over to obey, my cock strained in my pants. I took off my shirt, pulling it off with one hand and over my head, tossing it to the floor. Then I toed off my shoes, pushed them out of the way behind me, and crooked my finger at my wife. She stood patiently at the door with a grin on her face.
“Come here,” I rasped. Her little feet patted over to stand in front of me. I picked her up, my hands at her waist, and set her down on the counter. My hands spread her legs apart, and I slid my fingers under the hem of her dress. “Are you trying to tease me with this little slutty dress, Mrs. Pinn?”
Her beautiful ice-blue eyes darkened in lust, her sweet fucking mouth parting as she licked her lips. “Maybe.”
I slid the dress up over her thighs, tapping her leg so she’d left her butt up. The dress bunched now at her waist, showing me her blue satin panties.
Fuck, this woman.
With both hands, I pulled the top of her strapless dress down so that the elastic held up her tits. I loved these fucking dresses of hers. No zippers, no ties, no buttons. Perfect.
Lifting her breasts in my hands, I leaned over and licked, sucked, bit each nipple. She moaned and wiggled, her legs wrapping around me and tapping a wicked wanton rhythm against my back with the heel of her foot.
“Lay back, beautiful. I’m going to love on you now.” When she laid back, and I removed her panties, throwing them behind me, I licked the little blue butterfly tattooed low on her pelvis. With my eyes growing heavy with arousal, and my heart full, I stared into my wife’s eyes, showing her all the love I felt for her. “I love you, Blue.”
“I love you, too, Mr. Pinn.” Her soft eyes seemed to mist over for a moment, but then they sparkled with mischief. “Now shut up and fuck me.”
I laughed and happily did as my lady bade.
The End.
Cruel Water - Sneak Peek
I’m not a sadist by choice,
I’m a sadist by design,
Cursed to inflict pain on others
And yet I find no pleasure in it,
Only a moment of release from my eternal torment.
And yet, it’s not enough
I’m not a sadist,
I’m a monster.
One night changed all that,
One night she dragged me from the oceans dark depths
Cresting the cruel waters she came to my rescue, like an angel.
A mermaid.
And now I’m going crazy and don’t know what to believe.
Was she real?
Did she truly soothe my demons and take away my pain?
How am I even alive?
So many questions taunt me.
So many answer evade my grasp.
What is true? What is real? What to believe?
All I know for sure is I have to find her again,
I have to know,
Can she really save me from myself?
Chapter 1
My neck cracks with the stretch, tension in the muscles of my shoulders, back, and everywhere else evaporating into the dimly lit room that now reeks of satisfied lust and broken spirit. Drawing in a satisfied breath slowly through my nostrils, I step back and survey my most recent ma
sterpiece.
There’s something so very beautiful about a face contorted with pain, raw, vulnerable and utterly truthful. They will grit their jaws, pinch their lips tight to prevent the howl of agony escaping, squeeze their eyes so tight in a valiant effort to take themselves anywhere other than here, with me. This is their truth in the face of their lies.
They tell me want this. They crave the pain I offer, beg me, and each one has been so utterly convincing—right up to the point where their bodies tell a different story that allows them into my dark world. Cries muffled by the rubber gag in their mouth, as they stoically endure what I so desperately need to deliver. Shock will widen their eyelids. Desire might darken their pupils for a moment before it’s too much, so much so that their eyes look like inky wells of hopelessness. Held breath and taut muscles are evidence of their level of endurance. Telltale twitches of parts of the body one would least expect reveal so much more than a desperate cry, but it’s in the eyes I see their truth. They might be self-confessed masochists, because I insist that they are, still this is not fun. This is beyond, this is something they do because…
Because I’m broken, I’m a challenge, and they think if they give me what I want, they’ll fix me. That I’ll change maybe, that I’ll be able to love. They are so very, very wrong.
I’m not broken; I’m cursed. As much as I might try to navigate around the proclivities of my predicament, I am left with the undeniable truth. I inflict pain because I need it. I need it to calm the demons in my soul, to quiet the storm that rages constantly in my head and to catch a moment of peace. A sadist by design, not by nature, yet I can’t deny how utterly captivating it is to witness someone giving themselves to me, completely.