Page 109 of Breathe Again

I didn’t want him to see the marks. With only the light from the tv, I reasoned, he wouldn’t see much. I desperately wanted to reconnect with him, yet I knew I didn’t deserve him. I decided to lie still, and he’d surely fall asleep, or I would. One more day and the marks would fade. Two more and they’d be gone.

He pulled my nightie up at the back, slipping his fingers under the band of my panties, caressing my hip, the dip at my waist, up over my ribs, and then followed the path back into my panties, delvinglower each time until he came to rest on the crease at the top of my thigh.

I loved that. He knew exactly where to touch me to elicit a response. I remained still.

His hand came back up, over my hip, trailing into the dip at my waist, to the top of my ribs, his thumb stroking the side of my breast, then back down, over my hip, across my ass, one long finger slipping between my legs, sliding through the wet and I lost the fight, arching back into his palm. As my whole body cried out for him, I kept my head tucked, protecting my chest.

He lifted his chin from my head and spoke, his voice low. “Give me your mouth or you’ll lose my finger.”

I immediately lifted my chin and tilted my head back to receive his kiss. He entered me with his finger and covered my mouth gently with his. He stroked me and I arched back into his hand seeking the pleasure at the tips of his talented fingers. I began to lose myself in the pleasure, pleasure that was magnified by the pain of separation. He lifted his mouth from mine and trailed kisses down my throat to my chest, then stilled. Completely.

Confused for a moment by the sudden stop, I fought my way back to awareness, horrified to find him peering closely at my chest. I tried to roll away.

His arms tightened. “Oh, no, you don’t. Stay with me, gorgeous.”

I trembled with shame and teetered with indecision. He pushed his finger inside me, then withdrew and circled my clit. I moaned but stayed curled. He did it again, I couldn’t help it, I arched into his hand, and gave myself up to him to get what my heart and mind and body craved.

All the fear, all the angst, all the grief, all the worry, gave way under his attention. The hours and hours of crying left my head fuzzy, and my defenses were shattered ever since my mother rejected my offer to visit. I needed to reconnect.

Tears slipped from the corners of my closed eyes. He kissed them away. He dragged his hand around my thigh and lifted my nightie at the front, tugging my underwear off over my hips, never taking his mouth from mine. He moved to open the buttons at the bodice, and I grasped it so he couldn’t.

“I’ve already seen,” he whispered, his voice hitching. “Mara, it’s okay, let me love you.”

I moved my hand but turned my face away, ashamed, but he grasped my chin and turned me back to face him, took my mouth, and continued with the buttons, freeing my breasts. With my attention locked onto him again, pressing closer, he pressed his hard thigh between mine as he palmed and squeezed my breast.

He broke the kiss, rolled me to my back, and began the sweet descent to my breasts, licking and tugging each, my hands in his hair, my eyes tightly shut against the evidence of my craziness,focusing hard on the feel of him on me and not the tyrant screaming taunts in my head.

Pulling up my nightie, he trailed kisses across my stomach, over my mons, and knelt between my open thighs, his hands holding me open to his gaze. Neither of us moved. I waited for his disgust, his rejection, but got his lips instead, sweetly kissing my inner thigh, then he moved to the other side, and I realized he was placing sweet kisses on each of the marks he could see in the dim light.

I moved to close my thighs, but he pressed them open, and again he whispered, “Let me love you.”

“I’m not loveable,” I whispered brokenly.

“You are. I’m loving you right now.” He pressed an open mouth kiss over my clit, and I tilted involuntarily against his lips. “And I will continue to love you,” he licked through from my opening to my clit, “for all of my life.”

He grasped my hips, swirling the little bud with his tongue, then pulling the tender flesh into his mouth. Two fingers quickly plunged inside me, once, twice, his mouth covering me, his tongue lightly flicking, and I was lost.

He reared up over me, his mouth over mine, my taste on both our lips now, and thrust inside. He drove in fiercely, propelling me up the bed with the force of his thrusts.

I pushed my hands back against the headboard to give him more, groaning into his mouth. He tore his mouth from mine, dropped hisface into my neck and pounded into me. Within moments he stiffened, and pulsed inside me, his low groan vibrating against my throat.

I wrapped my arms around him, afraid now that it was over about what he would say. I felt stupid.

Maybe I overreacted?

I no longer felt nearly as bad as I did. He lifted to his elbows and looked into my eyes. I faced him bravely. He gave me a sad half smile.

“I love you, Mara.”

I whispered brokenly back, “I love you, Zee.”

“Come with me to the bathroom and clean up.”

The bathroom lights were bright. I hurriedly refastened my buttons as I walked with him. He passed me a wet hand towel and I cleaned myself up, his hands on my hips, my nightie bunched under his palms, his lips dropping kisses on the back of my neck. I didn’t know what was happening. I was afraid to look at him. I finished and he took the towel and tossed it into the hamper, then followed me back to bed. He’d never done this before. He opened the covers and motioned me in. I lay down, he covered me, and kissed me, hard, on the mouth.

“I’ll be right back to cuddle.”

“Okay,” I whispered, unsure about this new routine.

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