The Complete Captive Heart Duet

by Carrie Aarons

  There is no use explaining it to her though. “Go home, mother. We are happy. We don’t want you in our lives. You win. You’re right. Tucker is a convict and I am his loser wife. Now, go away.”

  Waves of exhaustion overtake me, all of my energy spent up in trying to explain a useless point to her. I could crawl into bed and sleep for days.

  I don’t bother to see if she gets in her car. I just turn for our door, for my husband, and make my way to it.

  When I open it, Tucker stands on the other side, ready to catch me. Half-falling into his arms, he scoops me up as I begin to sob uncontrollably.

  “I’m … sorry … she … ruined … our … perfect … day.” I gasp out between crying jags.

  “Shh. Baby, please, she ruined nothing. She’s a bitter old woman who has nothing better in life than to make you feel miserable.”

  I wipe my snotty nose on his shirt, but he doesn’t seem to mind. “All of those awful things she said about you. You know I don’t believe one word, Tucker. And you shouldn’t either. We are normal.”

  I see the doubt creep into his brown eyes. His now-longer curls bounce as he turns his head slightly away from me.

  “We are. You don’t believe her, right? You’re perfect, and I love our life. We’re happy, or getting there. And your coworkers like you, Jackie likes you. No one thinks that way of you.”

  I’m squeezing his arms where he holds my waist as if my hands can will that idea into him.

  Tucker still doesn’t look fully convinced when he nods and says, “I know, baby. You’re right.”

  I hate my mother. She’s poison. Evil.

  And now she’s spreading that poison, infecting my husband with her wretched opinions.

  “Tucker, we don’t need them. Any of them. We aren’t going to be our parents. We’re better than them.”

  He kisses me, and I can see the confidence come back to his expression. “You’re right. I said it today and I’ll say it again. You’re going to be an amazing mother. My mom, she was weak and has no spine, still to this day. She obeys him when he tells her not to come visit me. And your mother is a snake, she’s poisonous and doesn’t deserve you as a daughter.”

  I nod, feeling the energy in him and his words. “We only need each other. You are my family. We are in this together. Through anything.”

  Tucker crushes me to his chest. “Our little family of two. I will protect you through everything.”

  CHAPTER 21

  TUCKER

  Sometimes weeks feel like they’re blowing by you in a flash of sound and light. And sometimes they feel like they’ve spanned an entire 365 days they’re going so slow.

  This week was of the latter sort, and it felt like it was never going to end. Each morning’s five a.m. wakeup call was like a foghorn in my ear, and all I wanted to do was roll over and take Char in my arms and go back to sleep.

  Each shift was grueling, the work we were doing on the new construction project was tough and required long hours.

  It felt like I saw Char for two hours each night before we were both just so tired that we had to go up to bed. And then the cycle would start all over again.

  So when Friday comes, all I want to do is sit on the couch with my wife in my arms and watch sports. Or whatever mindless show she wants. Because yes, I’ve become one of those husbands who gives his wife control of the remote.

  But when I get home, late of course, and yell out for Char, I find she’s in our bathroom upstairs.

  “Come up and talk to me!” She yells down.

  It’s a chore for me to get up the stairs, my muscles sorer than they’ve been in forever. It feels like I trained a two-a-day today I’m that exhausted.

  But not too exhausted that all of the blood in my body doesn’t shoot straight to my dick when I see Char, leaning into the mirror on the bathroom while she puts mascara on. Clad in only a light blue lace thong.

  “Hi handsome.” She wiggles her butt at me, and I can’t get my fill of her fast enough.

  Her perky tits on display for my view. Her hair, curled and smooth, falling in waves down her naked back. The way her ass is sticking up in the air as she leans against the bathroom counter. The fire engine red lipstick slick around her full mouth.

  I come up behind her and can’t resist grabbing her hips and grinding my jeans against her thong-clad ass. I’m hard as a rock in two second flat. No one but Char gets me like this.

  “And to what do I owe this fucking perfect homecoming to?” I’m so focused on how her ass looks pressed up against my zipper that I don’t see her frown.

  “Okay, don’t hate me …”

  Still distracted by my wife’s naked body, I answer distractedly. “I could never hate you.”

  “Good, because I kind of told Jackie we would go out with her tonight.”

  Goddammit. I squeeze Char’s sexy hips. “Oh, babe! Come on, I just wanted a low-key night with you.”

  She has the decency to look guilty. “I know, I know! But she is trying to pick up this bartender at our favorite bar, and she guilted me into it. She was there so many times for me while you were away. I felt bad.”

  I sigh, but I know this is just Char being the sweet person that she is. “Do you think it’s a good idea? Me at a bar?”

  I’m only asking her to try and get out of it. I know I’ll be fine. I haven’t been tempted to really touch drugs or alcohol since I’ve gotten out. It would ruin too much. I wouldn’t risk it.

  “I think you’ll be okay. And plus, I’m not going to drink. We can have sodas together.”

  Of course she already thought of this and is willing to be sober with me. “Fineeee. I guess I’ll go. But only because my wife so fucking sexy. But I think you owe me something at the end of the night.”

  Char smirks at me as she looks in the mirror. “Oh don’t worry, I’ll happily pay up.”

  It strikes me how different my once-shy, reserved wife is now. If there is one good thing that came from me going away to prison, I think it might be that it forced Char to break out of her comfort zone. To grind for herself and go for things that she really wanted. It makes me even more attracted to her, if that’s possible. I already love her more than anything else on this fucking earth.

  A NIGHT out at Char and Jackie’s favorite bar is actually more entertaining than I thought it would be. Not only did I get to see Jackie try to finagle a date with the cool bartender Chad, but I got to hear hilarious stories from him about my wife.

  “I can’t believe you do Karaoke Thursday’s! Who the hell are you!?”

  I tickle her side again as we walk home, my arm and her shoulder and her arm around my waist.

  “It’s so much fun. A lot less embarrassing than I ever thought it would be! It’s freeing.”

  She smiles and I’m so glad we did this. The night is beautiful and downtown is almost empty, nothing but the streetlights watching us as we stroll towards our condo.

  I kiss the top of Char’s head. “You really are different.”

  She peers up at me, her brown eyes sparkling in the moonlight. “Is that a bad thing?”

  I stop us in the street, the warm night air caressing us as I turn Char towards me and wrap my arms tightly around her waist. “I didn’t mean it like that. And yes, it’s a good thing. I love the shy, reserved Char. But I also love this new version of you. I know what you’re thinking more. I hear your opinions and you’re not afraid to make a crude joke or two. It’s like I’m finally seeing the person you’ve always hidden inside. You’re letting her come out. And I love that.”

  She presses her lower body to mine and has my dick straining to break free already. “Alright, Mr. Lynch. I think you definitely earned that favor I owe you.”

  We speedwell the rest of the way home, not trying at all to keep our hands off each other. She’s practically giving me a hand job through my jeans she’s rubbing me so hard, and I’ve found her nipples through her bra and shirt, pressing down on the sensitive spots until she’s gasping for air
.

  By the time we make it to the front door, we’re both so ready for me to be inside of her we might explode.

  “I might just fuck you up against this door if you don’t stop fumbling with those keys.”

  My dirty words only make her fumble more. A minute later, and with me needing her ass through her shorts, she thrusts the key into the lock and pulls me inside.

  I don’t let her get far though. “I don’t believe we’ve tested out the inside of the door yet.”

  I spin her, trapping her between my body and the door at her back. Her eyes flare with desire.

  She taunts me while she unbuckles my belt. “Ah, the old back of the door sex, huh? Are we getting old and married? Isn’t this cliche?”

  “Oh, baby, there is going to be nothing cliche about how I fuck you right now.”

  Closing the gap between us, I press her hard up against the door and take her lips. I giver her scalding kiss after scalding kiss, wanting to brand my mouth onto hers. She’s greedy and squirming, her tongue invades my mouth over and over again until we both have to come up for air.

  “Touch me, Tucker. Please, God, I want your hands all over me.”

  Char loves to talk during sex now, and I find it turns me on even more than her bashfulness. I wouldn’t be surprised if my cock wore the indentation of my zipper. I can’t wait to get inside of her, but I want to play with her. Tease her.

  I spin her around and push her front firmly into the door. “How do you want me to touch you?”

  I breathe into her ear and then bite the lobe, and am rewarded with a frustrated groan.

  “I want your fingers in me, rubbing me.”

  “Your wish is my command.”

  Snaking the tiny white shorts down her shapely legs, I sink as I pull them down to her ankles. Her plump, perfect ass greets me at eye level, and I can’t resist biting each cheek.

  “Oh my god, Tucker …”

  I rise up again, nipping at her waist and shoulder as I go.

  “You taste fucking delicious,” I growl in Char’s ear.

  “I want to touch you …” She makes a move to turn around and I stiff arm her, pushing her firmly against the door.

  “Nope, you wanted me to touch you. So stay still and let me.”

  With one hand pressed against her back to hold her, I lean my lips into her neck and begin sucking at the sensitive spot below her ear. Her hips buck and I reach my other hand down between her legs. I run a finger between the seam of her ass and she shivers, but I keep going until my hand is fully underneath her.

  And then I plunge two fingers into her dripping wet slit without warning.

  “Oh my god!” Char bites out a scream, but I know it feels good from the way she thrusts herself onto my fingers.

  “Mm, yeah, does that feel good baby?”

  She’s panting as I work her pussy. “More. Please, more.”

  I remove my hand from her back, knowing she’ll stay put as long as I’m stroking her with my fingers. Struggling, I undo my jeans with one hand and pull my cock free. The minute the air makes contact with my hard tool I hiss. I’m so hot and and ready for her it’s going to be hell holding off until she comes first.

  I rub my hard dick against her smooth ass cheek as my fingers work her clit. “I’m not going to push inside of you until you come on my fingers. So you better hurry up.”

  “It feels so good, Tuck.” She whispers against the wood at her cheek.

  I grind my thumb against her clit as I thrust two fingers up into her. “We just talked about you not being shy anymore. None of this whispering shit, baby, I want to hear you scream.”

  My hand works her over and over, invading her as I grind my cock against her pert globe.

  “Yes! Oh my god, Tucker, yes!” She starts to scream and growl as her channel tightens around me.

  “That’s it, baby. Come for me.”

  “Tucker!” Char screams my name as she lets it all go.

  I pull my fingers out of her as the waves of her orgasm crash over her and she uses her hands to brace herself against the door.

  I don’t give her a second to recover as I push my pants and boxers down to my knees, grab her hips, and sheath myself in her tight wetness.

  “Ahh!” My entrance catches her off guard and there is more moaning screams.

  “I love you loud.” I growl in her ear as I pump into her pussy.

  “So give me something else to scream about,” She moans back as she tilts her head and captures my lips.

  Oh, fuck yeah. Challenge accepted.

  I rut my hips against her perfect ass, burying myself again and again to the balls and making us both shake and cry out for our impending releases.

  “You almost there, baby? I want you to make the neighbors hear it. I want them to hear you screaming my name.”

  Char nods against the door, her voice gone for the moment as instinct takes over and we push and pull against each other. We work together, thrusting and moaning and growling as our releases take us both.

  With our pants around our ankles, up against the front door of our condo, Char and I melt into each other. One singular being of pleasure. Of joy. Of love.

  CHAPTER 22

  TUCKER

  Going to an NA meeting is always bittersweet. You don’t want to be there, don’t want to be an addict. But … these people are your family, they understand you better than anyone on this earth could.

  I grab my shitty cup of coffee and join the circle of chairs in the middle of the community center basement. Sure, Lancaster wants to open it’s doors to people from all walks of life … but the dirty ones, they would rather hide us in the basement. I don’t mind it, this way I don’t have to worry about people using the gyms or various rooms of the building walking past and gawking at me in the meeting.

  The community has pretty much lost interest in Char and I. The biggest uproar and gossip was when we got married, but it’s been a while since that happened. Sure, my release was blip on some people’s radars, but mostly everyone has left us alone. I don’t need to start the rumor mill again by being spotted in a Narcotics Anonymous meeting.

  “Alright everyone, let’s get this session started. Hi, I’m Gary and I’m an addict. I am twelve years clean and sober and thankful each day for it.”

  Gary is a role model if I ever had or needed one. He’s a former heroin addict who went cold turkey after he woke up one morning after a particularly nasty bender to his two-year-old playing with a used needle on their living room floor. He hasn’t touched a drug since, and has an ear handy or helpful advice whenever you need it. He’s someone I trust because I know exactly what he’s been through, and he I.

  I chose Gary as my sponsor when I joined this chapter four months ago. While I don’t need him, I rarely call him because I rarely have cravings anymore, it’s nice to know there is someone who has my back.

  “Hi Gary.” The group mumbles together.

  Gary folds his hands around his water bottle as he places his elbows on his knees. The rickety folding chair squeaks beneath him. “Does anyone want to share anything?”

  The circle, made up of about 25 people, goes quiet. There is always something to share. Some pressure, some relapse, some milestone or accomplishment. But no one ever wants to go first.

  “I’ll go.” Brenda, a middle-aged white woman with stringy blonde hair, speaks up. “I’m Brenda, and I’m an addict. I’ve been four months clean and sober.”

  Brenda has been with the group almost as long as I have, and I can tell staying clean is still a struggle for her. At three years and more, I’m a veteran in this group. Staying sober is the hardest in the first year, and I can tell by how her hands shake that she’s having a rough go.

  The group mumbles hi and she goes on. “Today I saw a buddy I used to get high with. I was driving to WaWa and there he was, standing on the side of the road with a cardboard sign asking for money. I did a double take. His clothes were dirty and threadbare, his eyes were bloodshot an
d he looked like he was about to maul something or someone if it meant he could get drugs. And my first instinct was to pull the car over and ask if he had any meth. I wanted to die for even thinking it. But I could practically taste the meth, feel the high in my veins. The pull was so strong.”

  Gary nods as the rest of us listen on. NA meetings aren’t therapy, there isn’t much discussion or suggestion unless someone explicitly asks for it. These groups are a sounding board, a camaraderie of sorts. We’re here for addicts, for each other, to talk out their problems and form conclusions on their own. Because while we have sponsors and friends, it’s up to that single person to keep themselves clean.

  “My hands were shaking so much as I drove away that I had to pull over when I got far enough from him. I wanted so badly to drive back, to get out of my car and stand there with him. But I didn’t. I chose sobriety. And so that day could have been a bad one. But instead, it was a good one. I was proud of myself.”

  She exhales a shaky breath and blinks the tears from her eyes as she looks around the room. Then Gary starts to clap. And everyone follows.

  “Brenda, that’s great. Really, that is so great. Great job. Alright, let’s have someone else talk.”

  Everyone looks around apprehensively, avoiding eye contact. Typically, I’m more of the silent type here, I work the steps on my own in my own way. But today I feel the need to speak.

  “Yeah, I’ll go. I’m going to take you to the negative side, sorry Brenda.” Everyone chuckles. “I’m Tucker, I’m an addict, I’ve been clean and sober for about three and a half years.”

  The group says hi to me, acknowledging that I have the floor.

  “So … I got out of prison about four months ago. Things have been going okay. I have a decent job that I like. It pushes me, it’s not boring; I guess that’s all you can ask for these days, huh?”

  The group laughs at my attempt at humor.

  “I follow my parole officer’s rules. I’m afraid she’ll kick my ass if I don’t. And I come to meetings. All in all, I’m doing alright. But … shit, I feel like an asshole. I love my wife, I do. But I just don’t feel, I don’t know, good about myself when I’m with her now. I feel like I’m tainted, and by being with me, she’s tainted too. It’s like I’m making her life worse, and by thinking that, I make myself nuts. I’m constantly looking for ways to be better, to do better. She seems fine, and she hasn’t said a thing, but it’s me. I just don’t feel like I measure up. And those are the times I want to use the most. I don’t really get full-fledged urges anymore, don’t have cravings. But it’s the deadly quiet thoughts in the middle of the night. The ones that tell me this would all go away if I just scored some heroin. That by putting a needle in my vein, the world would be a better place. Those thoughts are dangerous.”