Page 8 of Fated

I brush my hair out until it is shiny and mostly dry, my gaze moves to the pictures of me on the wall. I walk closer and see photos of me standing in front of the old mill factory, one of me walking past the abandoned buildings looking for inspiration. There is even one of me behind the ranch next to the lake, sitting by the tree. “When did he take this?” I ask myself. Seems he has been watching me and I didn't know.

I notice streaks of something on all of the pictures and wonder what it could be. It’s like someone melted sugar and threw it across the room. I continue to stare at the photos conflicted about how I feel. A part of me feels a little confused, you know. But the other part of me feels warm and cozy. Here there is a man who was following me, stalking me to be honest, but it is more than that. I can’t help feeling he was protecting me, watching out for me, making sure I didn’t come to harm.

Speaking of my husband, the smell of bacon, something I have newly discovered is delicious and sinful, permeates my nose and beckons me to come eat. Giving the photos one more glance, I wobble my way down the stairs, working hard to keep my legs open as I do it. I manage a slight giggle because it reminds me of when Mrs. Lapp was expecting, she would walk around the village, legs spread like the baby's head was already out.

“I was about to come look for you.” He reaches his hand out to me helping me walk down the last few steps. “Aww Tink. Are you sore?” I nod and curse my heating cheeks. “Here. Take these.” He hands me two little pills and a glass of water. “This is for the pain.”

“Thank you.” I swallow them and watch while he moves about the kitchen. “Do you need help?” I ask him, wanting to contribute something.

“No baby. Have a seat and relax.” He helps me to a chair and then kisses my head. I take the time to look around the kitchen and I admire the structure and the detail in the architecture. I looked up the history of this house and it dates back to the 1800s. The style of the design is an Italianate style mansion from the mid-nineteenth century.

He passes the food toward me and sits in the chair directly next to me. It shocks me because normally the man sits across the table. “Still not close enough.” He grunts before pulling my chair closer to his. His hand lands on my thigh once I am where he wants me, and as sore as I am I can feel moisture between my legs.

“Any closer and I would be right on top of you.” I whisper, trying to push down the need bubbling up inside of me.

“You mean like this.” In one swoop he picks me up and sits me on his lap. I have always felt out of place being so tiny, but right now, being moved around by him like his own personal doll, I am starting to love it. “In case you haven’t noticed, I like having you as close to me as possible. If I had it my way, I wouldn’t just be on you, but in you every second of every day.” Geesh. I am probably soaking his pants right now because I can certainly feel it leaking out of me. “Now open your mouth, wife and let me feed you.”

He picks up a piece of bacon and slides it into my mouth. His intense gaze makes my heart sputter, but I can’t bring myself to break the gaze. “This is delicious.” I tell him with a mouthful of bacon.

“Not as delicious as that pussy between your legs.” His growl makes me shudder. I squirm slightly, the friction of being on his leg, makes a moan slip from the back of my throat. “Fucking shit, Tink. Don’t move that feverish pussy another inch. Damn it.” He runs his hands through his hair.

“I’m sorry.” I try to sound contrite, but I feel the opposite. I have so much confidence right watching him try to fight his desire for me. He sees the smirk on my face and smacks my bottom.

“Like hell you are, baby.” His hand slides up my thigh and though I have on leggings, I can feel it as if my skin was bare. “I bet this pussy is still sore, huh baby? Is she still swollen and hurt?” I nod, biting my lip, trying and failing to hide the ache inside of me right now. “If you are a good girl, later today, I will let you bounce on my lap tonight.” He whispers this in my ear and bites my ear lobe. I turn my head and meet his mouth. Our tongues engage in a duel dance of lust and promise.

I turn my body the rest of the way and slide my fingers through his hair, straddling him. His leg begins to shake and each movement, each bounce brings my clit flush against the muscle in his leg, and I keen into his mouth.

Our hands are frantic, roaming each other's body, revving our passion higher, both of us forgetting I am still too hurt. His legs bounce harder, and my clit begins to tingle. It surges through me, short bursts of lightning at first, blinding flashes of light behind my eyes. His grunts and growls do nothing but amp up the pressure building between my legs.

“Want to see them. They are mine.” He growls low talking to himself right before he pulls my shirt down baring my breasts for him. He kisses each one before looking at me. “I can’t wait to see how big these get when my kid is inside of you, baby. They are going to swell and cause you so much pain you're going to beg me to suck them and drink from your achy nipples.” I throw my head back when his mouth wraps around one of them. He tugs and sucks, nips and bites one, while pinching the other.

“Oh my word. Lloyd that feels so g-good.” His bouncing leg hasn’t stopped and now with the added sensation, he blows air on them before smacking one and I scream. My cry rents the air and I buck against his leg. His hands squeeze my bottom and everything around me is like a firework.

“Damn baby. You look so beautiful when you come for me.” He tips my chin and kisses me slowly before pulling back. “How did I get so damn lucky?” Embarrassed and not used to people saying such sweet things to me, I hang my head, but he lifts it up. “Don’t do that. Don’t hide from me when I am telling you how beautiful and remarkable you are. When I am conveying to you how in love with you I am, Rachel. I want you to look at me so that you can see the truth.”

The tear slides down before I can stop it, but then he wipes it away and pulls me to my feet. “Where are you going?” I ask him, but not letting go of his hand.

“I want to show you something. I know you are having a hard time believing me, but I hope this helps.” I follow him through the kitchen and into the foyer. Following that path we walk through a parlor room that looks magnificent and I vow to come back and check it out.

Out of the parlor room we come to another room that leads to what I might call an annex. The annex seems to be connected to a much larger room. One where you would expect to have parties or gatherings. This room is bare and seems a bit sad, but the detail in the walls and chandeliers would make great paintings.

My husband doesn’t stop long enough for me to really get a look, but I am starting to love this house even more. The next room is the library, and it is huge. Think Belle in the Beauty and the Beast. The floor to ceiling windows let in such sunlight I could sit in this room all day and just paint.

We finally come to a step-up area that leads to a room that is closed. This room is a part of the house but can also be considered an add-on in some way. I notice immediately the windows appear to be more modern than the ones in the rest of the house and it makes me curious. “What is this?” I ask when he pulls a key from his pocket and hands it to me.

“Why don’t you open it and see.” Curiously, I unlock the door and turn to look at him. He gestures for me to open it and I do, slowly, not really sure what to expect. Everything is dark with the curtains drawn. “Press this button.” He presses a button on the side of the wall and all of the curtains open on their own and that is when I see it.

Gasping, I put my hand to my mouth and turn to look at him. “When did you do this?” I turn back and walk further into what I know now is my very own studio. I know immediately he had everything redone to make it modern and functionable. I count four or five easels in the corner each with a canvas on it. Immediately in front of the door is a glass cabinet with any and every tool a painter could need. I see he also has a sitting window, one with a view of the hummingbirds in the backyard and right where the sun is the brightest.

His arms wrap around my waist from behind and he kisses my neck. “I started working on it the day Jasper told me you were a painter. I wanted to give this to you as a wedding gift. Something to show you I love everything about you, and I want nothing more than to make all of your dreams come true.” I spin in his arms and cry into his chest. This amazing man has gone out of his way to make me happy, and I don't deserve it. Not with the secret I have been holding inside of me. But how do I tell him now?

ChapterNine

Lloyd

One Week Later

“Look at the mess you made in my office.” I continue fucking my wife on top of my desk. She’s laid out like a messy secretary, hair spread across my desk. Her tits are bare and beckoning me to leave them in my spit. “Jesus, look at you. Not the least bit ashamed of how stuffed you looked, full of my cock, legs spread and asshole winking at me, are you?”

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