by Gabi Moore
With shaking hands, I lifted the hem of my shirt over the top of my head and flung it off to the side. Standing in my jeans and bra, my skin crisped up under his gaze. Slowly, I took off my bra, too. My nipples hardened and tightened to a slightly deeper shade of pink-brown. It was as though I had charmed a snake. He was frozen where he stood, watching me rapt, something dark going on behind those light eyes.
I unbuttoned the jeans, bent to slide them off and then straightened, throwing them in the direction of my poor murdered coffee table. My panties disappeared the same way, and I stood naked before him. My permanent ‘last few pounds’. My stretchmarks. My clumsy knees and nerdy hair. I held my shoulders back and stared back at him, hard, and it took everything I had in me.
His expression swirled and contorted as he looked me over. Alex hadn’t given me any advice about what to do about a man like this, and so I was going to have to figure it out myself.
“I’m not good for you,” he muttered, unconvincingly.
I took a step forward.
“I’ll only hurt you,” he said again, and this time he was the fearful one. I took another step closer to him. I took a deep breath and opened my arms slightly to him, presenting myself.
“Don’t hold back,” I said.
Chapter 20 - Zack
The haze lingered on the edge of my awareness. Dark, misty. Dangerous. I had put it away a long time ago, and now she was pulling it out of me again.
Her body was the most gorgeous thing I had ever seen. Every part of her curved, every line ended in some delicious cleft or curl, every surface of her looked silky and full. Just looking at her turned me on. I stiffened instantly, but more than that, I felt it in the back of my throat.
The haze descended slowly. And I let it.
I swiftly stepped back into the room and with a brutal kick, banished the upturned table even further. Even from where I stood, I could see the bob in her throat as she swallowed, watching me wide-eyed. I approached her, then roughly pushed the sofa out of the way. It was an ugly fucking sofa, and it was too small, and I hated it. No, what I was going to do to her now would have to happen on the floor.
A little smile twitched on the corner of her mouth, even though her eyes were still wide and wobbly with fear. What did such a sweet, pearly-skinned thing like her know about anything? About death? About violence? About fucking? She was all sweetness and light, this little bubble, this peach, and I was about to do things to her that would make her scream and cry and beg for mercy.
I picked up a floor lamp and brought it up over my head and then swung it down in one savage movement, smashing the glass on top. I tossed it aside and heard it clatter away.
She wanted it? I’d give it to her all right. The haze came over me and I let it. The room around receded. All her girly little trinkets disappeared, all the mismatched furniture, and the light went dim, and all that remained was my body, and her body, and the nasty things I was going to do to it.
I peeled off my shirt and let it slip to the ground. I loosened my belt and unzipped, relishing how the sound of the buckle hitting the floor seemed to send a fresh wave of panic through her. But she stood her ground. She looked at me defiantly, then down at my rapidly hardening cock, then back up at me again. “Don’t hold back,” she had said. I liked that. It was cute.
I kicked the crumpled jeans away and gobbled her up with my eyes. Like a little girl who’s just defied her parents, she raised her chin and stared straight back at me. Behind the falling haze, a part of me was terrified. This was it. She’d run away for sure, after all this. But the haze said, so what? Then fuck her before she does. At the back of my mind, a little voice said I would be too rough, that she was too kind, too lovely, too sweet. The haze thickened around me and said, sweet? Not for very much longer…
“Get on your knees,” I said, without thinking.
She was on the floor in a split second. I sauntered up to her and stood there for a moment, enjoying her eyes as they tracked my cock swaying in front of her face. She was so pretty. I lowered my fingertips and gently stroked the side of her cheek, a little open-sesame gesture to open up that pouty mouth of hers. She opened up, obediently. I slipped inside her warm mouth. The soft pad of skin under her chin bulged as she struggled to take me all in, her eyebrows sloping as I pushed, and pushed. She was warm inside, all the little parts of her mouth and tongue trembling around my shaft, and I pushed in further still.
Her flat hand came up to touch my groin, halting me at that depth, showing me that I could go no deeper. I flicked her hand away again and smiled. Good. That only let me know exactly where I would be pushing in even more. I slid in further, and she squeezed her eyes shut, both hands clasped in her lap like a choir girl, eyebrows kinking with concentration.
Her little tongue desperately tried to suck around me, but I placed a firm hand on her head.
“Did I tell you to suck?” I growled. She stopped. I didn’t want any of that. I just wanted to be fucking in her, as far as I could go. I had fucked the rest of her so thoroughly already, but this place, this sweet little spot right at the back of her throat, this wasn’t completely mine yet.
“Don’t move,” I ordered, and she obeyed, her overactive little eyebrows going still. I pressed in further. Pressed in so far that the flat of my stomach met her lips, and then, I went in further. Till the full length of my cock disappeared completely into her. Till my balls were against her chin. Fuck yes. Just like that.
Her legs squirmed and her chest fluttered a little as she focused on squeezing me all in. I reached down and grabbed a rough fistful of her hair, then slowly, so slow it nearly made me groan out loud, I pulled back her head and watched as the red, slick shaft of my cock slid all the way back out again, and I marveled at how she had swallowed it all, right the way to the hilt.
I was about to slam it back into her face again when I peered down and saw she had parted her kneeling legs, and had squirrelled away a little hand, a hand which was now working furiously on her clit as she held me in her mouth. She was fucking enjoying it. The haze thickened. I drew back, and slid the full length back into her again, holding her head firmly in place. And then I did it again. And again.
Her lower lashes were going damp with the strain of opening her throat for me, but not for one second did her little fingers stop. I growled and picked up the pace, burying both hands in that pretty girl hair of hers. Fuck, she felt amazing. I was too big for her. Too big by far. But come hell or high water, she was going to take every last inch of it, and I was going to make her, one way or another.
She choked a little but I kept going. I was in the haze. The small, fearful part of me was gone. All that remained was my body, and hers, the nasty things I was going to do to it. When I’d had enough I pulled upwards on her hair and brought her staggering a little to her feet. Her lips were glossy with spit and out the corner of my eye I saw her hand held off to the side, fingers also wet. She stared even more defiantly at me. Good. I was going to fuck her so hard and so good she’d be sorry she ever dared open this can of worms. Fingers still laced in her long hair, I pulled her firmly over for a kiss, and pressed a greedy tongue deep into her, guiding and angling her head as I did so. She kissed back, without resistance.
“On the floor,” I said, and released her hair. She got back onto her knees again, but I laughed, reached down to grab her shoulders, thrusting her forward and onto her hands and knees.
“Like a dog,” I said, and she dutifully hung her head low and took a deep breath. It was a side of her I had never seen before. Not ‘submissive’. Oh no, Madeleine Bright could never submit to anyone. It was more like …an offer. As she settled into her new stance she raised her ass a little and waggled it. It sent a wicked thrill through me, knowing that she knew full well what I intended to do to her.
I positioned myself behind her and with my foot, tapped the inside of both her inner thighs.
“Wider,” I said.
She spread her knees a little further apart,
splitting that gorgeous cunt of her straight down the middle and giving me the most perfect view of the wet little slit down the middle. I couldn’t believe my eyes. She had said time and time before how this position was too much for her, how I was too big for it, how I went in too deep that way. I grasped her round hips and with one strong pump of my hips, I sunk deeply into her and paused as she whimpered below me.
The black haze buzzed around me so much that my thinking slowed and then stopped completely. Everything dissolved into sensation, the feeling of her wet, tight body engulfing me …the shuddering sound of her breath rushing into and out of her beautiful body …the naughty sounding squelch as I buried myself deeper and deeper into her excited little pussy.
I banged my hips harder and harder into hers, fists holding tight round her waist, pushing her knees even further apart with my legs, so that she had no choice but to flop down and back onto my cock …all of it. With each stab I felt myself growing wild, becoming harder inside her, swelling and knotting up inside the glorious heat of her, the tip of me threatening to explode.
Her heavy breasts swung wildly with each thrust. I could see her slender, outstretched arms hopelessly trying to steady her against the delicious cruelty I as pounding down onto her again, and again, and again. Her greedy little pussy puffed up and slip all the way down me, barely kissing the base of my cock before stroking me all the way up again, dousing me in her sweet juices, thrust after thrust after thrust.
I knew I was being too rough.
I was going too hard.
Too fast.
But I couldn’t stop. As I lifted her hips up and brought her down again and again onto my merciless cock, her knees nearly came off the floor entirely, and a deep guttural sound came over me at the thought of her so desperately compromised.
Fucked. Utterly impaled.
I threw back my head and let the rippling of her body wash over me. The haze closed over me like a dark, formless envelope. I realized my cheeks were wet. I looked down at her magnificent backside to see it slapped raw and red. Was that me? Had I done that to her? It didn’t matter now. The haze closed over me, cleanly, and I disappeared far away into myself.
Into her.
Chapter 21 - Madeleine
I lay against his chest until the air outside changed and it grew dark. It might have been an hour. It might have been three. I had placed my sweat-soaked and exhausted body length-ways along his, and as both our bodies cooled, it seemed that we had cemented ourselves together like that, permanently. There didn’t seem to be any reason to move anyway.
Not yet.
I nestled my head in the crook of his armpit and snuggled against him as he lay staring up at the ceiling. Or someplace far beyond the ceiling. Slowly, like I was afraid to scare it off if I moved too quickly, I began to think about what had happened to me. To him.
Gradually, and then all at once, something had come over him. His edges blurred. He became an animal. I struggled to keep up with him. Somehow, his face had dissolved and he stopped being Zack, and became …something else. Meat. A body. Something sad and wild and hungry and full to bursting with rage.
I settled against his body and he congealed against me, settled back into human form, re-shaped into the man I knew. But my own body was tender. I had come hard and desperately, shuddering and crying and with nothing to hold onto but the very man who was responsible for all the pleasure-pain in the first place. There was not an atom, not an inch that he hadn’t given me; everything was spent. His orgasm came over him like a defeat and he cried out like an animal, the knots all along his strong abdominals yanking tight as he bucked and quaked against me.
We had gone all the way to the edge. And then over it. I was covered in bruises and welts and patches of red, angry flesh. My body was sore and stretched and stinging. And yet, I felt more alive than ever. Stronger than ever. Like the surface damage to my body only fired me up somewhere deeper down, where it counted.
I traced my fingertips over the pink and red marks blooming along my upper thighs. I knew marks like this – they would morph into black bruises overnight, slowly, as my body came to realize the insult and decided to sulk in nasty shades of green and grey. But these bruises were different.
“That looks bad,” he said at last, looking down at my body. I had forgotten what his human voice sounded like.
“Not bad. Good,” I said.
But that wasn’t quite right either. It was bad. Bad and good. It didn’t make much sense in my mind yet. But as I stroked absentminded fingers over those raw places on my skin, I wondered whether my body already knew. The words ‘good and bad’ didn’t even begin to properly hold all the strange sensations swirling in me. Zack seemed beyond that somehow. He had most eloquently told me what he needed, not with words, but with his body. And somehow I had understood, not with my brain, and not even with my heart. But somewhere in these strange, blooming bruises on my legs and belly and arms. I stroked them gently, and understood.
“So…” he said.
“So,” I returned.
“I’m sorry about what I did to your furniture.”
“It’s just furniture.”
“And I’m sorry about what I did to your …butt.”
I laughed.
“You’re not a bad man Zack. But you are a man.”
Chapter 22 - Zack
There was something so pleasing about watching the white paste squashing seamlessly into the cracks. I pressed over the holes and dents, again and again, easing the mixture in and then leaning back to admire my smooth handiwork.
Once I had finished the ceiling, the rest of the house had started crying out to me for repairs. The tiles in the guest bathroom needed to be grouted again. Her extractor fan needed to replaced entirely. The woman I loved had cat flaps on every door in her home, each and every one of them broken. Once I went into repair-mode, I found I had my work cut out for me.
“Who’s a little jelly bean nose? Who is? Is it you? Hm? Are you a jelly bean nose?”
She came into the living room cooing over a ball of fluff in her cupped hands. She always did have a penchant for kittens.
“Maddy, I think you’ve identified who is, in fact, a jelly bean nose. Can you come over here and hold this for a second?” I said and held out the trowel to her as I tried to wobble down the step ladder.
She shifted the kitten into one hand and took the trowel from me with her other hand, giving me a fleeting peck on the cheek.
“If I had known how useful you were going to be around here, I would have adopted you much sooner,” she said and winked at me. I playfully slapped her ass.
“Watch out, I’m not completely tame yet,” I said, and wiped away some sweat with my forearm.
“Well, you have just over two hours till we have to leave.” She glanced at her watch. “How’s the speech coming along?”
She looked radiant today. When she got really busy, really distracted with playing with the dogs or when she came back from a long walk, her hair always went a little crazy, sending golden brown filaments all over her head that, in the right light, looked like a crown.
I peeled off my shirt and started for the shower.
“No speech. I’m just going to speak from the heart, just like you said I should,” I smiled. She lifted an eyebrow at me and smiled doubtfully. I cleared my throat and pretended to be on a podium, addressing the kitten in her hands.
“Gentlemen, there is no time for speaking delicately. We are soldiers, so let’s start by speaking honestly, before anything else. Before we can be strong for others, let’s be strong for ourselves. Can we dig deep to be face our own enemies first, our own fears, our own monsters and terrorists within?” I said, doing my best to come across as a serious orator, leaning in to the little creature purring in her hands. It mewed. I nodded seriously.
“It’s no longer a question of psychology. PTSD isn’t something that strikes, like a cold virus, just at random. It is a natural and obvious reaction to atrocities that no
person should ever be forced to face. PTSD is not something to be medicated, to push away. It’s something to be listened to. Trauma is a sign that no matter how dark times have been for you, you are still alive. Alive and kicking. Anger is a gift. Fear is a gift…”
The kitten mewed again; cutting me off of the part of my speech I had worked hardest on. She smiled broadly at me and giggled, then put the kitten down. We both watched it scamper off.
A lot can change in a year.
An old house can become new. Bruises and welts can heal. And with patience, the black haze in my heart was lifting, evaporating off, molecule by molecule. It had started with a small blog, and then a book, and now I was speaking at six different places all over the country, addressing others like me, those men who had carried around dark hearts for too long.
I headed for the shower but she playfully caught my arm and pulled me towards her.
“Hey, you can’t just parade around here half naked like that and expect to get away with it.”
I kissed her, smiling.
“Hot Guy Six Actual, I repeat Hot Guy Six Actual, do you read? This is Mad Dog Delta, requesting permission to grope, sir, over.”
She was so cute when she got like this. And she always, always messed it up. I pressed my bare chest against her and drew in a deep breath of her smell. All warm soap and perfume and the faint whiff of kitten.
“Roger that, Mad Dog, we are Oscar Mike and ready to rendezvous at approximately,” I lifted her wrist to look at her watch, “fifteen hundred hours, do you copy?”
“Roger that!” she giggled and leaned in for a kiss.
She collapsed into me and our hungry mouths met. We had already made love once this morning, but when she got in this mood, there was no quenching that appetite of hers. The woman I loved had a lot of broken appliances in her life. And she was sexually ravenous. For both of her needs, I obliged happily.