Breathe

by C. L. Matthews

  He’s so huge. There has never been a time where he’s fucked my mouth without me choking, drooling, and nearly combusting as he shoots down my throat.

  He peers down at me, the strain visible has a smile begging to break free. He grips my hair, fisting it tight, all while pumping into me.

  Relaxing my throat, I take his punishment, begging for his seed, wanting to have that power over him. But Toby rarely loses his will; he doesn’t give over to his pleasure until he’s ready, and I envy that power.

  It’s not like he can’t fuck me five minutes later. His stamina is astounding, but he likes to wait it out until his balls physically ache.

  It’s admirable.

  It’s sexy.

  He bucks his hips and drool sweeps down my face. I love that he does this. I think he loves it, too.

  Chapter Fifty-Two

  Past

  Toby

  I fuck her mouth like it’s my duty, loving how tears paint her cheeks and drool pools down her face. She’s a sight for sore eyes on her knees. I nearly lost it when she told me Francis was the one to make her wet. I saw red.

  I can rarely get off when I’m with other women, and even then, it’s with our porn stash replaying in my mind that gets me there. When I fuck other women, it’s my wife’s cunt I’m imagining. I can’t even keep my eyes open when I’m away from her.

  It’s always her.

  It’ll never be anyone else.

  They mean nothing.

  I thrust into her throat, wanting to explode and choke her out, then paint her lips with the remnants of my cum, but I need to be inside her, remind her cunt that it’s my cock that pleases her.

  She’s always moody and sad. Francis is obviously not doing his job. Never thought the passionate Frenchman would be so displeasing.

  My wife needs to be forced into pleasure.

  She needs her will taken.

  She needs me.

  I pull out and watch as drool drenches her throat. Fuck. I want to come there too. Bathe her in me in every way possible.

  I help her up and push her against the mirror. Without preamble, I thrust inside her wet channel and fuck her harshly.

  “I can’t fuck them like I fuck you, Sous.”

  “W-What?” she stutters, her eyes fluttering at the jackhammering of my hips.

  “They don’t please me like you do,” I grunt and pound into her. She cries out when I pinch her clit, then rub slow, methodical circles the way she likes.

  I know her body inside and out. What she likes, what she craves, even what she’s scared to admit.

  “Stop talking,” she grumbles.

  “Jealous, Sous?”

  “Fuck you.”

  “You must be. Knowing that even though I hardly even come with them, they’re still who I pick.”

  “Get the fuck off me,” she berates.

  I stop inside her. “Is that what you want?” Her eyes hit mine in the mirror, and she shakes her head. That’s all the answer I need before I pull out and slam back into her as she screams.

  “It’ll always be you, Josephine. No matter how much I hate you,” I grind out. She clenches around my cock, moaning out her release. I thrust into her with abandon, unable to stop the manic thrusting of my hips, and when I’m finally yelling out my own release, coating her walls and barely able to stand, the elevator beeps. I hurry and leave her body, shoving my dick in my pants as she tries adjusting her dress. The doors open, and a maid comes into the elevator. Scanning our home badge, the light shines, and we rise.

  When the woman gets off two floors below us, we both burst out laughing before Joey’s face turns sour.

  “Never talk about fucking other women in front of me again.”

  I smirk, and she leaves me in the elevator.

  She acts like I won’t be fucking every hole of hers tonight.

  She will bend for me.

  She will come for me.

  She will be mine and mine alone.

  Chapter Fifty-Three

  Present

  Toby

  “You’re unbelievably stupid,” I hear Jase before seeing him. “I figured after all the shit I put Peaches through, you would have learned and not be a piece of shit like I was. But here you are, being just as bad.”

  “Fuck off,” I growl.

  Hurting Joey once more and forcing her to leave was my parting gift. I’m only going to destroy her. In the midst of our discussion, when she broke me, I realized she needed better. And that wasn’t me.

  Not yet, at least.

  I can’t be better without change. I need change. She deserves someone who can say they’ve worked to better themselves before expecting her to try.

  “You really haven’t changed,” he bites out. It’s like all the hostility from earlier that he kept at bay is oozing through. “You’re still an entitled little shit who thinks he deserves everything he damn well pleases.”

  I glare at him, not something he’s unused to, but fuck him and his hoity-toity bullshit routine. It’s not my fault he didn’t treat his wife well. It’s not even my fault that she loved me. Most of all, if he didn’t decide Ellie was what he wanted when he was hurting, Lo would never have slept with me.

  “You’re just pissed because I fucked your wife,” I bark, feeling all the resentment slowly seep into my words. “You’re mad that I got her pregnant and gave her a baby. You’re so desperate to hide that fact from me that I didn’t even know she had a child!”

  He rushes me, bunching my shirt between his fists. If anger was a person, my brother, with all his pent-up rage, would be it.

  “Lev is my son. Not yours.”

  “Why? Because you raised him without bothering to tell me? He has my blood, Jason. My blood. He is mine.”

  “No, he fucking isn’t,” he barks, spittle leaving his mouth.

  “How does it feel knowing my cock gave your wife what she wanted most?”

  Those words do it. He swings back and hits me right in the eye. I stumble back and then charge, tackling him to the ground. The whoosh of air that leaves me from the impact doesn’t stop my assault. He ruined everything. By fucking some slut and making me love his wife, all the way to him not telling me I had a child. My own fucking flesh and blood.

  “Stop!” Lo screeches. “Stop it!” I hear her, but I don’t. The muddied way my mind is set on hurting my brother and making him feel my absolute agony is stronger than her pleas.

  It isn’t until someone pulls us apart that I notice how badly we’ve wrecked each other. Ace glares at us both, and I’m shocked to see the kid is the same height as us and even a little bulkier. He must’ve had one hell of a growth spurt in the past few years.

  We kept in touch, but I hadn’t seen him at all in that time. He’s unamused at the predicament I’ve found myself in.

  “You two are such little bitches,” he curses. His expressionless mask doesn’t hide the contempt coming off him in waves. “Both of you cheat and fuck other women. For what? Why don’t you leave?”

  When neither of us have an answer, he scoffs.

  “You’re both dipshits. My mom deserves better, and Joey sure as hell does too.”

  I’m nodding at him because he’s right. I’ve fucked up so many times that I’ve lost count.

  “You need to get this off your chest,” he says as he points at me. “Talk to Mom and get this shit over with.” When Jase goes to protest, Ace narrows his eyes into slits.

  “And you need to fucking let it go. You fucked up while he swooped in and raised your kids.”

  “You little—”

  “Stop,” Lo hisses. “Toby, let’s talk. Ace, behave.”

  Ace rolls his eyes at his mom as I walk past him, following Lo to wherever she decides to take me. This’ll be fun.

  As soon as we enter her old guest room, the words bleed out of me.

  “Do you realize how hard it was to watch you fall apart?”

  “T-Toby,” she tries, but I stop her, needing her silence. Never thought I'
d want that, her nothingness, the non-existence of words, apologies, and feelings... but I do.

  “Please, I need to say this.”

  She nods, her eyes sadder than I’ve seen in a long time. You see, when she went into her numbness, a lot of the grief disappeared entirely.

  Right now, it’s shining brightly, illuminating as a Zippo flickered to life during a power cut

  Now, her pain is as vibrant as a double rainbow, giving twice the hope, doubling the chances of happiness. It’s change.

  “When you fell apart all those times, so did I. Along with you, I died.”

  Slowly. Withering. Desperately.

  “That connection I’d held so dear since high school, it was there. I knew it. Whether buried deep or at the surface trying to claw out, it was there, and I needed it. I didn’t know how to achieve it. I only knew I needed to. I thought, maybe if I loved you more than living, I’d deserve you and finally not feel alone.”

  Understanding stirs in her eyes, it wells up over her eyelids like a promise. And they are. Promising healing, sanctuary, and hope.

  That’s the problem with hope, though. You fool yourself into thinking you're meant to be, but reality has a harsh way of showing you how wrong you are.

  “You fixed me.”

  “Tobe—”

  “No, let me talk, Sparkle. Please,” I implore, watching as her face blotches with emotion. “That day, when we were in the hospital, you stood up to Brant. It was the first day I felt more scared for you than myself. It was a day-to-day fear. Death. Not knowing if he’d kick too high or into a narrow crevasse where my heart would decide to give out and it’d be more than my body could endure...” I pause, the pain rushing out of my eyes like pinpricks, ebbing away the shield I’ve slowly grown.

  I stare at her, the woman I believed to be the owner of every part of me—and she was at one time—but now as her face morphs into so much pain, it’s not her who I worry about and have at the forefront of my mind. It’s Joey.

  “I didn’t know if you’d survive him. He terrified me shitless, Lo. He abused the fuck out of me for years, and besides you, I learned the only escape I could find was booze.”

  She shakes her head in disagreement, but she didn’t know. She had Jase. Jase had her. I only had scraps.

  Morsels are enough to feed the hungry, but I was starving—famished—diminished by the light and guided by the dark.

  “It numbed me, eased a broken and pitiful part of me. Or, at least, I thought it did. It consumed me in a new way, giving me a comfort I sought in you. Then before I knew it, it was my only friend, my only sustenance, my only excuse. But again, I asked for it. I reached for it instead of help, knowing it’d make me forget for a little while. It hurt me as much as I let it. Now... now that I’m aware and sure of what it truly did, I can move forward.”

  She closes the distance, hugging me to her chest.

  Once, this would have been everything.

  Once, it would have changed my world.

  Once, I would have loved her more.

  Not anymore.

  It means closure.

  It’s the end.

  The closing.

  Our ever after, not happy nor sad, it just is.

  “Thank you for giving me life, Lo. You were the life I was missing, the closure I needed, the push to be the best me... you were that. So, thank you.”

  I pull back as I watch every emotion and memory flutter in her angst-sodden lashes. Lo was circumstance, but Joey is my destiny.

  “I love you, Toby,” she finally says. Hugging her closer for a moment, I pull away for the last time.

  “I love you too, Sparkle. Till the end of time.” I kiss her forehead softly for the last time, cherishing the sweet smell of peaches, love, and resolution.

  As I walk away, I hear her break down. This wasn’t about her or us. It was entirely about Joey and the future I’m not risking ever again.

  LO

  There’s so much I want and need to say. So much. He rushed out the door before I got the chance to say a single thing. It only takes seconds to run after him. So I run after him, chasing him like how he used to chase me for years.

  That’s it, isn’t it?

  He chased. I let him.

  He put in effort. I used him.

  He loved me unconditionally. I loved him limitedly.

  “Toby!”

  His head swivels to mine, his face forlorn and full of emotion. Our conversation is burned into my heart, searing the flesh to record a new meaning, a heartbeat that means calm and tranquility.

  Peace.

  A fresh start.

  I want him to be a part of our child’s life. Always have, especially after finding out Lev is his too. It’s a burning sensation that hasn’t ebbed. If anything, this conversation confirms his growth as a man. Maybe life can change, and everything will work out.

  He deserves it.

  Lev, too.

  “Please, I need to say some things.” I’m next to him now. His hand is on his car door, his eyes are shiny with emotion, and his face is full of fear.

  “I want you to be a part of Lev’s life. I need that.”

  He nods, almost like he can’t believe the words escaping my mouth. “Why now?”

  “Seeing you, knowing you fell for someone. Understanding that she loves you the way I never could,” I release shakily, my heart ping-ponging inside my chest. “She’s good for you.”

  “Too late now,” he bites, his voice teetering on unhinged.

  “What did you do?”

  “Did you not notice she left? Ran, really... she hates me.”

  “I repeat, Tobias, what did you do?”

  “Sent her away,” he admits, his voice strained. “Told her the things she feared most. That’s what I do. I’m fucking toxic, Sparkle.” He touches my face, and I flinch. Not because he’s not comforting, but because he’s using me as a way to convey emotions that he wants to give his wife. Just as Jase did with Ellie.

  Pulling away, I glare at him. “You fix this.” It’s a command. “You fix your marriage and love that girl. You’ve both lost so much already.”

  With my words, his eyes gloss over. “Be a good husband and not a piece of shit.”

  It comes out with resentment, and I hate that. Hate that it slipped out. We have so much to work out. If we want to be a family again, that’s what needs to happen. He needs to realize we can’t fix everything and moving forward is our only option.

  “After you fix yourself and win that girl’s heart, then we can talk about you being a part of Lev’s life. You ruined me, and I ruined you, Toby. Let’s stop the vicious cycle and fix this.”

  He nods but doesn’t say anything.

  “We were good once. Let’s be that again?”

  “I’m not good for anyone in this state,” he says solemnly.

  “Then get sober, call Bobbie, and fucking make amends.”

  His eyes connect with mine

  “You’re right.”

  “Aren’t I always?”

  “So modest,” he chides. Then I’m hugging him, feeling the barrier I’ve constructed between us break in his hold. It’s familiar. Not love. Not forbidden. Just what it was meant to be.

  Us.

  “I love you, Toby,” I whisper.

  “I love you too, Sparkle.”

  “Now go be the man you were with me for her. But this time,” I say, pulling back, “be better. She deserves nothing less than your best.”

  He nods, kissing my forehead. The heat swims through me in a comfortable way. It’s crazy to think how five years ago, it brought me mixed emotions. Now, it brings me nothing but closure.

  When he releases me and drives away, I don’t feel any more pain or resentment. All that’s left is happiness.

  Chapter Fifty-Four

  Three Weeks Later

  Joey

  Who knew getting your heart broken would feel like a loss worse than death? I’ve been living at Treasure Cove—a hotel—hoping my l
ife won’t end with the many times I’ve taken a blade to it.

  I know it’s wrong.

  I know it’s detrimental.

  I can’t seem to care anyway.

  Blood bubbles at the newest site. The makeshift razor I made from a broken knife blade is my only tool. This cut is deep. So deep that the bubbles are forming into a huge stream.

  Fuck.

  I’m usually careful. Use the pressure as a release, stop crying, allow myself a new pain to make me forget about the true culprit.

  Not this time.

  No matter how many strikes against my bumpy flesh, I can’t stop. It’s not abating anything. It’s worsening my hatred and absolutely wrecking me.

  I need to breathe.

  Just fucking let me breathe.

  Instead of getting a rag for the crimson leakage, I just rest against the door of my temporary bathroom and let the red drip.

  Everyone says red is an indicator of negative behavior. Whether anger or rage, it describes a feeling that isn’t pleasant.

  It always made me wonder why blood was red. It’s not an angry liquid. It’s a solemn and desolate one. Where your body hates itself so much that the blood wants to leak as tears do. It’s such a fluorescent color too, bright and thick. It’s so beautiful.

  Blood travels down my pale arms to my open palm, and I watch as it paints me. Not in anger, no. It’s something else. It reminds me of hopelessness, but there was never any hope, was there?

  I set aside my new blade and stand. The red smears the carpet and drips as I walk. I must’ve hit a muscle or something because I’m getting a little woozy.

  Maybe it’s the sight of blood. I’ve never been a fan, even if cutting is my ritual.

  I find the bottle of Jameson I stole from Toby before leaving three weeks ago. He thinks I don’t know he has one in every room of our place. I’m stupid, just not that stupid.

  When I grab the green bottle, it feels heavy in my palm. I pop the cap and take a swig. A cough leaves me, because shit, this stuff is potent. After drinking a ton of wine, this almost seems like gasoline in comparison.

  How the hell did he gulp this like water? Grabbing my phone, I take it with me to the bathroom, grab my blade, and sit in the bathtub.