Page 44 of Keeping Her Under
Breathing out slowly, I recollect myself.
Then I walk over to the chair with Summer’s belongings. Pulling out the cash I brought with me tonight –the same amount Lance stole from her– I place it in her wallet. Putting the bag on the floor, I slump into the chair. The adrenaline crashes out of my system.
With my eyes on my girl, I slowly fall asleep.
I wake up with my body aching like hell. I’m too damn old to be sleeping in a chair, but I don’t regret having spent the night here rather than at home in my queen-sized bed. I’m nearly fifty. Who knows how many nights I’ll have left with her? I need to make every moment count.
So I stand and stretch out what pain I can, then walk over to my future bride. Leaning down, I kiss her lips and murmur, “You’ll never have to fear Lance or his dogs again.”
Grabbing the bottom of her hospital gown, I drag it slowly up her thighs. I continue to kiss her as my hand reaches her beautiful pussy. With my eyes closed and my tongue dancing inside her mouth, I stroke her dark patch of curls with the tips of my fingers.
Last night, I made her wet, but I failed to make her come. I’m determined to succeed tonight.
Petting her perfect cunt, I recall the things I read about in her books. I was never one for pleasuring the women I’ve been with. I’ve always just drugged them and used them. I couldn’t bear the thought of anyone getting pleasure from my pain. I hated sex, and I hated them, and I got it over with as quickly as possible.
But with Summer, I want it to be different. I want her to take my virginity.
Mother’s boyfriends might have forced their way inside of me, but virginity cannot be taken. It can only be given.
That’s why you can’t test for it. Why not every woman bleeds her first time. Why the lack of a hymen doesn’t mean shit.
Because virginity is a concept of purity, and someone else’s sinful acts aren’t a representation of me. They raped me. They took a part of me I never wanted to give, leaving behind a swirling black hole that sucked away my happiness and sanity and naivety of a good and caring world. Their cocks made me feel dirty and disgusting and as far from innocent as one could be.
But that disgust is on them.
The dirt on me has rubbed off from them.
It isn’t mine. It’s not me.
I’m forty-seven, and I’ve never given myself to anyone. I’ve never opened myself up and showed that vulnerability. I have been with ten people since living on the streets, but they were never “people” to me. They were just toys – always unconscious, always unable to touch me, never able to see me. They were attempts to rub off the grime of Mother’s boyfriends – and every single one of them failed.
But with Summer, those memories are quiet. That muck is gone. It’s only me standing before her.
My heart quickens with uncertainty. I’m so afraid of her rejection. She’s so pure and perfect and sweet. What if she doesn’t love me back? What if she realizes that I’m a control freak? That I’m so fucking far beneath her?
My breath catches in my throat.
My lips still against hers.
Opening my eyes, I start to panic at how utterly unworthy I am of her.
But then I see her pretty brown eyes staring back at me.
My chest tightens.
I smile at her.
Hoping…
Hoping…
Her eyes close, and I sag forward in relief. She didn’t reject me.
She loves me.
Those three words echo inside my head. I crawl into bed with her. I need to be inside her, taking her body as she takes my soul.
Pulling my cock out of my pants, I line it up with her pussy and thrust in deep. Her heart monitor picks up the sudden movement, reminding me that I have to take it slow. Straining against my primitive need to slam into her hard and fast and raw, I tighten all of my muscles and concentrate on my breathing.
