John.
I have never doubted how good my wife is at what she does for a living. There is a reason why she is highly sought after all over the world. She is the best damn doctor both sides of the Mississippi; she’s my Doc. She gets my stubborn head and my heart. She rules them both. Even in the midst of her own turmoil, standing there before me, naked and vulnerable, she has managed to psychoanalyze me in two seconds flat – nailing me with one pointed question.
Have I destroyed us?
Her trembling voice carries like a gunshot in the stillness of our bedroom. Her words ring loud and clear in my ears but all these years living with a psychiatrist haven’t been for nothing. I am trained to hear the real question; read between the lines – do you blame me for what I’ve done?
Not to be mistaken for weakness, her compassion and empathy are boundless. She looks at me sympathetically, like I am the one who has been hurt the most in this situation and this is simply not true. Emotionally and physically, she’s been through the wringer and, undoubtedly, I have made it worse over the past few months with my own insecurities. The truth is, she’s not to blame for any of this. It’d be hypocritical of me to punish her for an act of self preservation. I know how she feels about me. It’s the same way I feel about her. So many times in our life I have played the role of what she calls the hero. I’d give my life to keep her safe, and I have. I would die for her. She’ll remind me of this momentarily. And she’ll be right. How can I possibly blame her for loving me so completely and so selflessly that she’s willing to do the same for me? This isn’t even the first time she has sacrificed herself for me. Being shackled to the concrete walls of Maison Blanche is not something one soon forgets. I was forced to watch as she let a depraved monster touch her most private parts. He gave her no choice in the matter; that is, if she didn’t want me to die. He raped her mind and her body; wore her down, making sure I bore witness; knowing it would be a death far worse for me than any torture he could possibly inflict on me. I screamed at the monitor at the top of my lungs and pulled at my shackles until my wrists bled raw. The physical pain was a momentary but welcome distraction from the unbearable pain in my heart. She couldn’t hear me; the sounds of a wounded animal reverberated back at me as they bounced off the stone walls of my prison. I on the other hand, could see and hear everything. Mind games. The endless mind games he played. She was tired. Desperate. He convinced her she would get what she wanted if she gave herself to him. Devastation was written all over her beautiful face. She was resigned to this fate but fierce and determined to help me. If not for the sacrifice she were making for me, I’d be so proud of her resourcefulness and tenacity. There were no guarantees that he would pass out from the drug she had slipped into his pino grigio; a sedative that was meant for her. There was a very real risk that she would have to endure this rape to the very end. I watched as his beady brown eyes lit up in rapturous delight when she parted her legs. He made a sound becoming only of an animal. Marlena whimpered and physically recoiled as he slid his stubby hands up her thighs. He now knew the thrill of touching her soft skin; the privilege of only a few. My chains clanged on the cold concrete beneath me as the fear in her eyes brought me to my knees. There was nothing I could do from my prison. He was wildly aroused and appeared victorious – his subtle glance towards the surveillance camera was meant for me. He had me – at his mercy. He traced her suspenders with his fingertips and bunched the skirt of her dress in his fist to expose her further as he licked his lips hungrily. I could see the panicked rise and fall of her chest as his hand went in for the kill. I could feel her pulse in mine. My heart shattered for her as his eyes closed. “Oh, Marrrlena,” he roared, having reached the heat between her thighs; nirvana. That’s what it’s like if you want to know. She was crying; her lips moved in silent prayer, no doubt willing the drug to take hold. The look of ecstasy on his face and the bearing of his teeth said it all. The sadistic bastard was getting what he so desperately craved since the day he laid eyes on her; to possess her mind, body and soul. If I thought in that moment I would surely die, I could only imagine what she must have felt. His hand moved rhythmically as he lowered his face between her legs and began to kiss up her inner thigh. When he slowed and fell forward limply, heavily, I knew someone or something was looking out for us. She froze in place with him draped over her lower body. We both stopped breathing. Her sudden, piercing cry of relief lifted burdens I didn’t realize were still weighing me down. It was not lost on me how intimately acquainted she is with this kind of violation to her womanhood. Her tears, her pain – they were for her, for me. For even Stefano’s empty promise that he would give me one more night drug free if she gave herself to him. She understood there was a very real chance he would not keep his side of the bargain. She took it anyway. She surrendered everything to give me a fighting chance against his torture – to free me so that I wouldn’t lose any more of myself or my past; so I wouldn’t forget me, forget her, forget our daughter; our love. We weren’t together then. Oh, our souls were still one. But we hadn’t learned from our mistakes. Our love had been forced to simmer below the surface yet again. It was there, in the darkened depths of Maison Blanche, that it came up for air. Her deep, abiding love for me – it saved me and simultaneously smothered what little life was left in her marriage with Roman.
“John?” I snap out of it. She has turned to face me; touching my jaw to make me look into her solemn eyes, “answer me.”
She’s open; vulnerable; naked. I wordlessly squat down, my face mere inches from her body, to retrieve her black silk robe from the floor. Her nearness makes me lightheaded. “Here, Doc. I think you should put this back on,” I say gently as I help her. I can’t afford to be distracted right now. She sighs defeatedly, tying the robe around her waist. Looking up at me with tears brimming, she moves to walk past me, “you do blame me for this.”
“Wait a minute, Doc,” I catch her elbow and grip her firmly to keep her from getting away.
She turns and looks down at her arm and then back up at me, “let go of me please. It’s fine. I understand.”
“We have to talk about this.”
“I’m all ears. But if you want to stand there and punish me for loving you the way that I do, John Black, I have two words for you…”
I’m not sure if I’m smiling or smirking. I know her so well – I saw this coming a mile away.
“Fuck. You.”
“Not what I was expecting.” She’s irresistible to me at the best of times, let alone when she is this fiery and mad.
“This isn’t funny, John,” she warns.
“C’mon baby, I’m not laughing at you. I was just so sure you were going to say…”
“Poison soup?…” She gets her raised eyebrow from me.
She softens as the memories wash over both of us. “You ate it to save me from the pain of starvation,” she makes her point with a gentle smile and tears in her eyes. She presses her lips together to keep from crying. “You risked your memories; your life…”
“I still loved you so damn much,” my voice cracks. I blink back tears of my own and swallow hard at the memory. The bitter taste still lingers on my tongue and makes my teeth ache. Stefano’s ruthless demeanor; the sadistic pleasure he took from watching Marlena beg as he sat at the head of the dining table, unmoved in the face of our suffering – it all comes rushing back. He knew he didn’t need physical restraints to keep us there doing his bidding. Our love for one another rooted us firmly in place – we weren’t going anywhere. Not without each other. He used the most powerful weapon we have against us. I can still see her pleading with him to stop this madness; her tearful eyes implored me to put the gold plated spoon down; to see reason. I was as much her enemy in that moment as Stefano was. I was going to eat the soup despite her pleas. He’ll never let me go, John. Think of our baby, think of Brady. Don’t let him take your memories, she cried. My hand trembled and shook as I struggled to bring the warm liquid to my lips. I was so weak from days’ long torture. My beard barely disguised my weight loss. I took strength from her hazel eyes, pained as they were; behind them, she held all the memories I ever needed; the most important moments of my life. I concentrated on her beautiful face as I felt the acrid burning sensation envelope my throat. That’s all I held onto tooth and nail – her; memories of her; of our life. It wouldn’t matter if he managed to strip me of everything. If I could just hold onto her, I could hold onto myself; there was a chance I could get it all back someday. My body felt like lead; heavy like the baritone voice of our captor. My mind became foggy; I started to fade and fall forward, crashing into the fine china laid out before me. It only angered him further – don’t hurt her, I managed to wheeze out. I remember her arms enveloping me to keep me upright; to keep me fighting… my last thoughts were of her hand taking mine at Shenanigans all those years ago…
“I’m here,” I feel her hand envelope mine. I know I am safe. These memories can’t hurt me – years of hypnosis with Marlena have taught me this. I open my eyes and look at her. My sweet, beautiful, Doc. She knows where my mind has just taken me. “That’s how much I love you,” she says with conviction, her eyes having taken on a golden glow. I watch on silently as she brings my hand up to brush along her delicate décolletage. She’s warm. Alive. Never tearing her eyes from mine she slides my hand inside her robe over her left breast. “Do you feel that?” I do. Her heart beats rapidly beneath my fingertips. “It beats only for you,” she whispers guiding my hand further to cup the soft mound of flesh. “Please?” She needs me to make the next move. I caress her nipple with my thumb. Her lips part as she exhales. It’s my turn to exhale as I firmly take hold, groping and kneading her breast. She gets on her tip toes to kiss me. Breathlessly waiting for me to return it.
“I don’t deserve you,” I breathe as I tease her lips with mine and massage her breast beneath the silk. I let my tongue brush against hers and the moment turns heated very quickly as she wraps her arms around my neck, pushing her body up against mine.
“Don’t say that,” she moans into my mouth. “You deserve this. *We* deserve this. I love you so much, it hurts. I need you to take this hurt away.”
How do I tell her I’m the one who has hurt her? “I can’t make love to you, Doc,” my hands are everywhere; all over her lithe body. I say one thing but really mean another. I’m fighting it. Fighting myself. Fighting her. There’s nothing I want more than to make love to her right now.
“Yes you can,” she says breathlessly, alluding to my hardness. “I’ve got the papers from my doctors and everything,” she kisses my neck, my shoulders, my face as she tugs at my shirt and goes straight for my belt.
Shaking off the sexual fog she has enveloped me in, I take her from the shoulders and hold her at arms’ length. “You almost DIED because of me!”
That puts a moratorium on our intimacy. We both stand there breathless; shocked by my little outburst.
“What?” It slowly dawns on her. “Is that what this is about?”
“I didn’t protect you when you needed protection the most. It should have been me. That bullet should have hit me.” There, I said it. From the moment I held her lifeless body in my arms in the Horton Town Square, I’ve been blaming myself for not protecting her. “Its not about what you did, Doc. It’s about what I didn’t do…”
Marlena.
I’ve been so wrapped up in my own recovery, in healing, in missing him, it never occurred to me that he might be blaming himself for what happened to me. I look at him, my hero in every sense of the word. He’s tortured with this idea that he didn’t do enough to protect me. When I touch his arm to console him he flinches. “Far be it from me to interrupt a serious case of the guilts, but none of this is your fault. You saved my life, John Black. You are the most selfless, caring, loving man I know…” I close what little space is between us, “and I need you to show me how much you love me.” He looks at me with uncertainty. “Right now.”
“Doc, I…”
“If you’re going to tell me how you think you have failed me, honey, I won’t stand for it. Please. Make love to me.”
He exhales with relief. It’s like a dam has broken between the two of us, “oh Doc!” He engulfs me in his arms and buries his face in my neck as we release our pent up emotions. I am his pillar right now as much as he is mine. “I love you,” he whispers over and over again into my skin as he holds me tight.
John.
I can’t forgive myself that easily but I am so tired of fighting myself; fighting her; fighting my desire for her. My demons are mine and mine alone. I can deal with them tomorrow. Right now, I need her. She needs me to need her and I can’t let her down again.
I waste no time reacquainting myself with her body. It’s like I’m touching her for the first time; she’s soft in some places, firm in others. A delicious contrast that sends my mind into overdrive. I untie her robe and turn her away from me. Very slowly, I reveal the smooth skin of her shoulders to my lips, kissing it as I slip the black silk from her body and let it drop to the floor. All of my senses are lit. My body’s natural response is instant and powerful; I am sure she can feel it when she pushes her bottom into me. She leans her head back on my chest, eyes closed and lips parted as my hands squeeze her full breasts.
“Does this hurt?” I wonder out loud as I look at us in the mirror and lightly trace the deep scar that runs down her chest. I will forever kiss and worship every inch of her scars. As much as it pains me, they symbolize her determination to give her life for me.
“Sometimes,” she answers truthfully.
“Are you in pain now?” I ask as I not so gently summon blood to the surface of the skin on her neck with my mouth as I trace the scar down to where it ends at her midriff. She tilts her head to the side, elongating her neck to give me better access. I feel her deep moan against my lips as I run my tongue up to her ear.
“Only here,” she responds as she threads her fingers over mine and brings me down over her throbbing belly to settle in the dampness between her legs. Her flesh grows warm in the wake of my touch.
“Here?” I push two fingers up between her lips, parting her moist folds. It’s like dipping them into warm custard. The sensation instantly sends signals of pleasure to my brain. I get harder.
Her eyes flutter as she bucks against my hand, “Mhmmm. I need you, baby. Please,” she brings one hand up and around the back of my neck to clutch my hair while the other holds me firmly between her legs, guiding me back and forth.
My limbs go weak as I witness her beauty in the mirror – body stretched against mine. I want to come from the sheer anticipation of ultimately penetrating her warmth. I strain painfully against my jeans and her soft buttocks. “More…” she presses her hand into mine – showing me how she likes it. It’s a joint effort to get her off. Her hips, her curves, they move in response to my fondling and she begins to tremble. I guide her forward towards the mirror and press her naked body up against it, her head twists to the side. Quick shallow breaths of excitement create condensation on the glass that quickly dissipates as she breathes in. She moans in complaint when I remove my hand from her front and moves quickly to maintain her state of arousal. She reaches down to expose her clitoris and begins to rub herself against the cool mirror. I come in from behind to help her, lifting her leg up into the crook of my arm at a right angle to her body.
“I want to feel you against me,” she cries as she slowly humps the mirror. I grind my pelvis into her to push her more firmly against the mirror.
“How’s this?” I whisper into her hair.
“I want you out of your jeans, baby.”
I comply, hurriedly undoing my belt and zipper with my free hand as Marlena begins to climax while moving deliberately against the glass. This is all about her. I take my shaft in my hand and rub it against her bottom, sliding it between her folds. She lifts both arms up in surrender against the mirror as she heaves. The temptation to slide up inside her is real. I find her opening and insert my fingers deep inside her instead. “Come now. Give yourself now,” I grunt in her ear from behind her as I thrust my fingers in and out, in and out.
“Oh god… mmmph, honey!”
Her hands clutch at the mirror and slide down the glass as small hiccups escape her. Her face contorts in pleasure as she comes for the first time tonight, wetting my hand and the glass.
Marlena.
My breaths rapidly escape my lips as I come down from my intense orgasm; breasts warm and tender against the mirror. John removes his fingers from me and unhooks my leg as he kisses the side of my face. I feel his hands caress my sides before he takes me by the hips and flips me around so that my back is to the mirror and I’m facing him again. I’m delirious and dazed. I can taste myself on his fingers when he slides two of them into my mouth. I suck and lick them diligently as he watches. He then drags them down my tongue and chin, trailing my neck and décolletage until his hand settles between my heaving breasts.
“How do you feel?” he asks, concerned about me. My heart is pounding. I’m sure he knows.
“Alive,” I smile at him. “You make me feel so alive and so loved.”
“You don’t need to rest?” he caresses my face.
I shake my head, “no”, reaching down between us and taking him in my hand. “I need you to kiss me.” His gaze is smouldering as he moves in and our lips touch. I feel again the rush of helplessness, the surging tide of warmth between my legs that leaves me limp as I open my mouth to let him in. He teases me at first. A swipe here and there with his tongue. I bring both arms up around his neck and fasten him to me. He’s hard against my belly and soft against my lips.
“Oh, Doc,” he hums, kissing me with a building intensity that makes me cling to him as the only sure thing in a dizzy, swaying world. His insistent mouth parts my quivering lips and keeps me open, sending wild tremors through my body, igniting every single nerve; evoking from me sensations I had forgotten I was capable of feeling. And before a swimming giddiness spins me round and round, I am kissing him back breathlessly and creaming between my thighs.
“Take me to our bed. Love me. Just love me,” I beg him as I swallow his tongue.
Never breaking contact, he lifts me up against him effortlessly. I take control of the kiss as my mouth bears down on his from my new height. He moans sensually as I flick my tongue around his. My hair falls around him, my legs wrap themselves around his clothed torso. His hands squeeze my buttocks as I feel his hardness tap me. “I need it, baby,” I squirm in his arms, trying to find him with my opening. “I’m ready.”
“No,” he pants. We’re spinning until I’m horizontal and we’re in the missionary position on our bed. He climbs off of me. “Love yourself.” It’s an order as he stands back and begins to undress himself…
John.
“Come back here,” she pats herself between the legs as she spreads them for me, parting her lips and exposing her flower. Her honey glistens in the soft light, inviting me. Her breasts are free; luxuriously soft but firm and ample. They jiggle with the slightest movement. My tongue traces circles along the roof of my mouth as I anticipate teasing her pebbled nipples.
She watches me; undresses me with her hooded hazel eyes as she slides a finger down into the neatly trimmed patch of hair covering her. I am known for being the watcher, not the watchee. “Mama needs you.” Her voice is deep and sultry. I almost trip out of my jeans, I can’t get them off fast enough.
“Put two fingers inside.” She does exactly as she’s told and I’m suddenly overcome with envy. She closes her eyes, rolls her neck and gasps suddenly as her fingers find a rhythm and I decide, “that’s enough,” as I fling my shirt across the room and climb between her legs, putting both of her arms above her head. We both sigh when I lower my body to hers and we come together flush against each other for the first time in months. I can feel her inviting wetness and move my hips to settle myself in it. “Better,” I smile at her.
We lay still like this for long minutes. There’s not a point at which our bodies don’t touch. My mind reels with all the different sensations I’m experiencing. Her pulse beats against me in more places than one. She’s warm and wet and soft and firm all at once. We just fit; our bodies have moulded together. “I can feel your heart beating,” I tell her, our noses almost touching. I love her nose. She nods and smiles at me as I kiss her softly and nuzzle her face. There’s a raw vulnerability between us as we wordlessly absorb each other; the feeling of being together like this; made all the more sublime in the context of our rich history. “I can’t believe I’m holding you like this again.”
“I’m fine, baby,” she searches my eyes and answers my unspoken concern, “I’m fine.” I know she’s telling the truth. Her eyes are crystal clear as they hold my gaze. “Show me how much you love me. I can take it. I need to feel it.”
Gripping one of her hands with mine as I thread our fingers above her head, I let go of the other to reach down between us and guide myself to her opening. Her heart beats faster against me and her breath quickens as she anticipates my girth. “It’s ok,” I assure her as I poke her and tease her softly, wetting my tip and shaft in preparation. She moans and her eyes flutter as her pelvis comes off the bed. “Don’t close your eyes. I want to see you.” When she nods, without warning, I guide my muscle right in, penetrating her so deep and stretching her that she bucks against me and lets out a mewling cry.
I freeze at the sound. “Are you okay?” Her fingers dig into my back as she inhales deeply.
She nods mutely, pressing her lips together and hiding her face into my chest whispering, “I’ll be ok. I don’t want you to stop.” This was a terrible idea.
“Baby, look at me.” She does and I see the remnants of pain in her eyes. “Did I hurt you?” I have already braced myself to pull out.
She takes my face in her hand and places small kisses on my nose and mouth. “It’s in now.” Kiss. “Please don’t stop.” Kiss. “Stay inside me.” Kiss “I need you.” Kiss.
“But Doc…”
“Shh.”
I wait a beat for her to relax around me before I adjust my hips. She groans as I start pumping slowly, building and building, watching her for any sign of further discomfort. Her teeth are clenched as she wreaths beneath me sensually, bracing herself when I hit a tender place inside her. Small but urgent little puffs of air escape her. She clutches my back with her free hand and tightens her fingers around mine with the other. Her soft whimpers send me faster into my own state of euphoria. She’s tight. She’s heaven. No one else exists for me right now. I’m lost in her cocoon. I’m purposeful, looking to extract every last bit of pleasure from her. My balls begin to slap against her as we find our rhythm. I go in so tight. She moans as I slow against her; wetting her breasts with my mouth as I knuckle down and move inside her deliberately. I know just how to make her move; make her body bow against mine and raise up to meet me as my lips worship her.
“Don’t pull out,” she pleads quietly, clutching at me. She wants to feel pressure.
I have to quash the sudden surge of energy that makes me want to pound her and come at the sound of her raspy voice. Holding my orgasm at bay, I grit my teeth and give it to her how she wants it, rolling my hips over and over as she clenches me deep within, whimpering incessantly. “Oh God, baby. Yes. Yess.”
“Fuck. Marlena. You feel so good.” My fingers find her nub and orchestrate her moans. “It’s been so hard to resist you, baby.” I wait a beat. “Wrap those gorgeous legs around me.” She does. “Higher,” I pump into her, “let daddy get deeper. She brings her knees up and locks her legs around me. “Make daddy come.”
Marlena.
He’s hot. Feverish and perspiring above me. His body smothers mine; pelvis grinding into me with a compounding force that can only be inspired by the fear that he might not get deep enough. He needs me. I feel it in his loins. I hear it in his voice as he talks dirty to me. He’s concentrating so intently on where he joins us; on making me squeal. The heat where he cleaves me is unbearable. I dig my nails into him, tighten my thigh and pelvic muscles around him. There is a very fine line between pleasure and pain – something I learnt the very first time he ever made love to me. I’m trapped beneath him with nowhere to go but against him, accepting the force of his shaft and bringing him deeper inside me still. He holds me; pins me down into the mattress and rolls his hips into mine in one fluid, continuous motion, driven not by conscious thought but by animal instinct. He tells me he loves me; abiding feelings stuttered in ecstasy; thick in the air like the heady smell of our sex. His lips are all over me; stubble roughly grazing my skin. Skin that will be scratched and smarting long after he finishes. His scent wraps itself like a cocoon around me; one in which I feel safest; where my trust is limitless and unwavering. I would recognize these pheromones in a crowd of 7 billion people; they have lowered my defenses and allowed him to do things to my body and to my soul; things that only he and I will ever have the privilege of knowing. We become hushed, having found a comfortable rhythm. Biting my lip, I accept him again and again as he feeds me his throbbing length. When he grinds painfully against my pubic bone with his shaft, I cry out and tighten my grip on him, biting his shoulder, letting him know it hurts. He groans and does it again, and again muttering my name. He likes it. I do too. He knows how extremely tender and swollen I’ll be when, in a few hours from now, he’ll wake me gently to receive his morning wood. I’ll sleepily protest; still drugged and satiated from our earlier lovemaking. I’ll offer my hand and I’ll be denied. You know it’s better inside, baby, he’ll whisper as I acquiesce, opening my legs at his firm insistence. Not for me. He’ll tell me he’ll be gentle as he reaches down between us to part my lips. I’ll flinch and push my bottom into the mattress in a vein attempt to evade his touch. He’ll find me, still bruised and sore. Mouth to mouth, inhaling each other’s air, we’ll both moan deeply, simultaneously, but for different reasons when he introduces his tip in my opening and without pause, pushes his penis heavily inside me. He’ll ignore the painful edge of my soft cries for the pleasure of his quick release. His end will justify the means. He’ll hush me; remind me of the presence of our sleeping grand-daughter in the adjacent room as I endure two minutes of his slow, torturous lovemaking before he spills his warm seed inside me with a sigh. Always the gentleman, he’ll pull out and disappear under the sheet to thank me; pet me with his mouth and ask me if I want to come too as he fondles my bundle of nerves. I haven’t decided yet, but I’ll probably decline for the pleasure of a few more minutes of sleep. It’s the price I’ll pay for the here and now. And right now, he is in that state of combustible fire that I love – suffocating, scorching to the touch – out of control. My breasts throb from the friction and heat as he moves atop me. I talk to him; incite him; tell him how I want it; where; what he does to me. I claw at him as my limbs curl around his torso. His temperature keeps rising and rising. I want to feel his heat against my skin as deeply as I feel it inside. He’s relentless; pushing me and pushing me to the brink of climax…
“Oh god, baby, I’m! I’m about to… oh…”
“I need air,” he heaves breathlessly against my ear as his bottom slows and he stills inside me.
“Wha? No, no, don’t stop,” I’m stunned and confused as my legs fall from his hips.
“I can’t, Doc. I’m burning up.” He pulls out abruptly, climbing off of me and then the bed and steps out onto the balcony in all his naked glory. I sit up in our bed, every inch of my body buzzing and reeling from the loss of him. I watch him for a few minutes. He inhales deeply, looking out over the Salem city skyline. The cool night air hits him and he sighs. When I follow him out there and wrap my arms around him from behind, he flinches – he’s miles away but still so rigid; completely vertically erect and covered in me. With nothing but the thin silk of my robe, tied loosely around my waist between us, his skin is fire against me.
“Are you okay?” I rest my head against his back as I take him in my hand and begin to rub him tenderly, pressing on my fingers over his tip to keep him stimulated and hard.
“Yeah, Doc,” he chokes out through gritted teeth.
“That felt wonderful, honey.” Gravity pulls at the nectar that has settled inside me – John’s and mine. It trickles down and cools on the inside of my thighs.
“For me too,” his head falls back and he moans as I continue.
“Why did you stop?”
“You know how I get, baby.” It’s very rare that we make love and he doesn’t need to find relief in the elements.
“I do,” I say licking and kissing his shoulder blade as I pump him up and down deliberately slow. His fever still burns. My womb still churns from his plowing moments ago. “You’re still so hard, honey. Let’s go back inside and finish, hmm?” He doesn’t answer straight away. He grips the balcony railing in front of him and pushes his backside into me, trying to avoid my touch. “You don’t want to make love to me anymore?” I can’t help the hurt in my voice. I let go of him.
He’s too quick for me – he catches my hand in his own and turns to face me. I see his beautiful solemn eyes – they twinkle in the moonlight against his silver hair. His demeanor is serious as he looks straight through me and brings his knuckles up to trace my cheek and jawbone. His voice is raw; a mere whisper. “I want you so badly.” His fingers trace my lips. “If you hadn’t noticed already, I get so hot when I make love to you. I’ve never felt this with anybody else. There is no other woman in this world who has this effect on my body.” My breath catches in my throat. I feel so overwhelmed with love for him. “I came out here for some fresh air – sometimes I just can’t handle the intensity of how you make me feel.” He smiles at me in the night. “I bought the penthouse for the balconies, you know?” he says, referencing where we now stand. He plays nervously with my fingers. “Deep down inside, I just couldn’t accept that we were never going to be together again, Doc. You complete me. I knew that the first time I ever laid eyes on you. I couldn’t let you go,” he shrugs. “So I bought it for you and for our kids… and for me. It kinda felt like our love had a safe place; a home, you know?” His voice is imbued with heavy emotion and his lips tremble.
“Oh, John…” I can’t help my tears or the urge to comfort him. I lean in and press my lips into his bare chest. I can feel the rapid beating of his heart. He takes my head in both of his hands and rests his lips in my hair. It was such a painful time for us both. We stand still embracing in the cool breeze; in our feelings. I’m crying. He’s trying very hard not to. These memories still have the ability to render me breathless. He brought Belle, Brady and me to our new home. I remember the fear I felt like it were yesterday; the complete sense of abandonment and loneliness. I felt he was taking me from something rather than bringing me to something. I saw the brave smile he put on for me as we passed the threshold. He was my only lifeline and I was forbidden from reaching out to take it. He sensed my nervousness and knew I would have a hard time accepting this gift from him. He joked that if I didn’t like the place he would happily keep it and give me and the kids the loft if we felt more comfortable there. There was so much unspoken hurt behind his smile and my strong facade. We were trying to survive the unbearable pain. I couldn’t have him so he gave me safety, a home, a family – all things Roman took from me in anger. He selflessly handed me the keys and while it ripped him apart to do it, he left to embrace the life everybody else wanted for us – a life without each other. As if we hadn’t tried that already. As if we hadn’t suffered enough already. The pain of wanting, both before and during our affair, was unbearable enough without the added scorn of friends and family. They just didn’t understand. My heart doesn’t beat without him. I am not sure I understood that myself at the time. We listened to everybody who told us our love was wrong; a source of pain for them. To think that what we’d endured was only the beginning. We had barely made the down payment for our affair. Standing in that penthouse for the first time, the tremendous guilt and shame I felt for loving John didn’t let me see past tomorrow. My heart was shattered into a million tiny pieces as I grieved him. In my mind there was no alternate reality, no future in which we existed. I couldn’t imagine us in it; sharing it as a family. I couldn’t imagine us ever standing on that balcony again.
“Say something,” he tilts my head up to look at him and wipes my tears gently. For a moment there, I was transported back and my heart feels heavy. How do I find the words? He had more faith in us than I. He needed the balconies for our lovemaking; for when his body needs reprieve after joining with mine.
“I’m sorry.” For so many reasons, I’m sorry. Mostly for all the time we lost. For all the pain I caused him. “I’m sorry it took so long for us to become a family. I’m sorry so many years passed before we became a family in our penthouse. I’m so sorry for all the times since we almost lost us.”
He finds the opening in my robe, “with all the pain we’d endured, the guilt you felt, you couldn’t allow yourself to even think of sharing your life with me. I understand.”
It tickles until it doesn’t. His fingers have come together to pinch and roll my clitoris. “Oh!”
“Even while Roman was still in the picture, this is all I ever thought about,” he pinches harder, never taking his eyes off me.
“Oh god – honey, I’m already so wet for you,” I pant. My clitoris aches. I just want him inside me.
“Sometimes I need you so badly I’m afraid I might hurt you.” I cry out from the sharp pain that makes me so incredibly wet. Then it’s gone and I’m throbbing again.
“Hurt me,” I pant. “John, honey, put me on the railing and hurt me.”
He cups me hard and groans and then I feel weightless. He lifts me by the waist effortlessly and before I know it, the coolness of the railing is beneath my thighs and John’s heat is pulsing deep inside me, my legs hiked up on his hips.
Head thrown back, the tortured sound I make as he pushes in is just for him.
“God, Doc! Mmmmph, so tight,” he buries his face in my neck and all I feel is the wetness of his tongue and his hard shaft sealing us as one.
I’m paralysed for a moment. “Don’t move,” I kiss his face; his beautiful puckered lips. “I want to feel full for as long as I can.” He obliges, pushing deep inside me and settling there, finding my breasts with his mouth. My robe has long slipped off my shoulders, hanging loosely from my arms, exposing me to the night; to him.
“You’re beautiful,” he mutters, mouth full and feasting. He loves my breasts – especially when puckered from the cold. He’s been known to use an ice cube or two on my body during and after sex. I watch him as he cradles them with his hands, weighing their heaviness and kissing them tenderly before flicking his tongue playfully around my darkened nipple. He’s gentle, yet firm; lavishing them with inordinate attention. He learnt early on, how sensitive they are and how easily I lubricate for him if he touches them. “This is my favorite part of you,” he rasps as he begins sucking on them hungrily, tugging at my nipples between his teeth. I rake my hand in his hair and elongate my body against his as I feel him start to move inside me in time with his petting, and I’m restless again. Restless for him to fuck me.
“Oh, oh…honey,” it starts again like a wave as he moves against me – in and out, in and out.
“You feel so. damn. good,” he enunciates every word as he thrusts fully and heavily into me. I’m there. Right at the precipice of where his tip hits me over and over again deep inside. My legs are as high up on his torso as they will go short of hooking them over his shoulders as he drives into me, balancing us on the railing of the balcony.
My emotions swell in my stomach as I hold my husband against me, inside me for the first time in a very long time. I can’t get enough of him; can’t get close enough to him – this loving, tender man. My whole world. “I didn’t want to die,” I cry as his penis fills me, deep long strokes that force my emotions to bubble to the surface. “I didn’t want to die without becoming yours.”
“Mine,” he grunts hooking his arms under my legs and moving us up against the balcony wall, remaining deeply sheathed in the place he calls his at all times. He uses the wall to steady himself and me; to drive deep and hard into my center. He grips my face to look at him as he forces me up and down his unforgiving shaft, the bricks bite into my back. Stinging.
“Uh! Oh god!” I cry, mouth and eyes wide open – digging my nails into his back as he feeds me his length. My legs hang off his ass which clenches and curls up into me over and over. “Uh, John!”
“Tell me again how you’re mine,” he demands as he fucks me, his penis turgid and quivering within my walls.
“I’m…” I cry unsteadily, my body convulsing with the beginnings of orgasm. I am trying to concentrate on what he is asking of me while at the same time grasping desperately at the edges of my orgasm, afraid it will get away.
“Say it,” he slams his palms against the wall on either side of me and thrusts in earnest.
“Y.. oh, god! Yy.. yours,” I squirt powerfully around him as an orchestra of pulses runs through my entire body and I lose vision. “I’m yours.”
John.
“That’s it. Come for me, baby,” my eyes roll to the back of my head as the head of my cock is hit with her powerful stream of excitement. Her head rolls from side to side against the wall as currents of pleasure overtake her. I am not even sure she is conscious of the wild little cries that escape her lips as she convulses around me and drenches my thighs. Those plaintive sounds she makes as I cleave her – aching, agonizing – like I’m affecting something inside her, they send me into a frenzy as I continue to pump myself up into her thoughtlessly, roughly chasing my own orgasm.
She clenches her muscles around me relentlessly and digs her nails into my back cutting skin, “fuck me. Fuck me!” she cries.
“Oh, Doc! Uh!” She clings to me as I ride her hard, to the rhythm of her chanting and somehow through it all I find my own thunderous voice as my excitement becomes concentrated in the bulging head of my shaft and I explode; ejaculating thickly around the both of us; my love seeps from her.
My legs give way and I almost drop her as the pleasure courses through my veins. With her heaving frame draped over mine, I peel our exhausted, damp bodies from the wall and make my way back inside on unsteady feet with my precious cargo. We kiss languidly, tiredly, sloppily. I sit at the edge of the bed with her in my arms, our bodies still intimately connected, her knees either side of me. The only sound in our room is the sound of our stickiness combined with the sound of our wet kiss. She breaks it.
“I love you,” she tells me, moving her bottom to feel me inside her.
“I love you, baby.” My hands knead her hips and thighs as she starts to gyrate her hips against me, looking to wake the sleeping beast.
“I need you, baby,” she whines.
“Again?” I’m not so sure my lower back can handle it after our vertical romp.
Framed by her sex tousled hair, her gorgeous face lights up with a mischievous smile as she shoves me back with her hand on my chest…
To be continued….
The Jarlena Journal 