Page 93 of Tarek

ChapterNine

Dereck

She didn’t come. Miranda didn’t come to her own mother’s funeral. I thought that she would at least show up. As the priest sprinkle the grave with holy water praying for her soul to enter heaven, my eyes search for Miranda. The screams of my son pull me away from my search. My son is inconsolable. I didn’t know that he had such a close relationship with Miranda’s mother. When I think about it, there is a lot that I don’t know about the boy.

Ilyana pulls up the veil of her fascinator, bending her head she whispers something in his ear, all the while pinching his knee with her gloved hands. She pushes my son’s shoulder, demanding he stops crying. He heaves and slips off the chair and begins to run, past the gravestone.

I try my best to leap after him, but the boy was fast. Further and further away my son runs, I could only see the back of his head.

Then he was gone. My heart skips a beat, where was my son? I shout his name getting lost between the huge tombstones. I stop in my tracks, and I see him on the stairs of a mausoleum. His inky black hair shines under the midday sun.

“Son,” I said cautiously as I approach him.

“Papa?” His head rises and for the first time I realized at the age of 8 he looks just like me. When did that happen? I sit on the stairs of the mausoleum, and I pull him into my lap tucking his head under my chin.

His shoulders shake, as he cries, “Do you think Ms. Stewart is going to heaven?”

I smile at the question because neither his mother nor I am churchgoers, but Ms. Stewart taught him about “The Lord.”

“I think she is son,” I reply kissing the top of his head. He smells of grass and sweat.

“That’s good, Papa,” he says as his tears soak into my shirt.

He pulls away and wipes his snotty nose with the back of his hand.

“Papa?”

I didn’t realize how much I enjoy my son calling me papa. For some reason it brings me hope and joy.

“Yes, son.”

“Are you leaving for work again? Mom cries and she is mean to me each time you go.”

This information surprised me. Ilyana is being mean…to my boy.

“What you mean by mean?” I ask. Feeling guilty that my child was not being protected and love because I’m away.

“She pinches me and tells me that you leave because you don’t love us. Is that true papa?” His dark grey gaze holds mine. All his innocence and wanting shines through.

I touch his face, wiping away his stray tears. “I love you more than life itself son.”

With a force he throws his hands around my neck and squeezes me tightly.

“I love you, Papa,” my son whispers. For the first time I was willing to say those words to someone other than Miranda.

“I love you too son. I love you too.”

* * *

PENNY

“Oh shit, Tarek, I’m coming.” My head snaps against the door of my office. A sharp jolt of pain flashes through my scalp, I couldn't care less about the pain. My orgasm is building, and every part of my body is tightening.

Tarek mouth is on my neck, his arms are anchoring me, his fingers are digging into my ass, my legs are around his waist. All the while Tarek is pistoning into my body. His rhythm is relentless; each thrust is pulling me closer to the edge.

My hands grip his shoulders, then I slide them to his neck, pulling him closer. I need him closer.

Tarek lifts his head, pressing his forehead to mine, and then he smiles, and my heart skips a beat. He smiles, and it’s one of those genuine, joyful smiles that melts parts of me that I didn’t know was frozen.

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