His nostrils flare as he takes a deep breath and gives me the truth. “I’m a guy. I’ve thought about it, yeah.”
I don’t know why I wince but I do. I wince and shudder and my nipples bead. A current runs along the length of my body. It’s more than a current. It’s a rebellion. Under my skin, floating in my blood. It feels like an earthquake that’s been building up for years.
“Do you hate me? Do you hate me for thinking that?” he asks me in a serrated whisper.
I let myself go, then. My pain, my anger is too big for the silent tears. My pain has sounds. It has agony. So I sob and sob. I cry for the man in front of me. I cry for the boy who loved me so much that he started to hate his own parents. I cry for what my parents did to him. I cry because I’m tired of carrying around this hate, this feeling of unfairness. I want to cure it. I want to do something to purge it out of my body. I want to hurt them like they have hurt us. I want justice. I want to change the world so no child has to ever bear the consequences of their parents’ deeds.
I shake my head as Abel gets up and takes me in his arms. I see a tear snake down the harsh lines of his cheek and that makes me cry even harder. Abel’s always been so strong, a pillar who never lets his tears fall but today he does. I cry and cry until I can’t anymore.
And then I look up at him. “I hate them too, you know. My parents. The first day here when I got lost, I saw my dad on the street. I thought he was here to take me back. I still see him sometimes. Out on the street. In my dreams.”
His arms flex around my waist. His breathing changes. He’s angry. “No one can take you away from me. You’re mine.”
I put my feet up on his feet, reducing my world to him. I breathe into his trembling, angry mouth. “Show me. Love me the way only you can. Love me like we’re dying and our lust is the only thing that can save us. Love me as your wife.”
He does. He carries me into our room and throws me on our bed and enters me.
“So deep…” I moan.
“Yeah. Gonna crawl inside you, Pixie. So you never run from me again.”
“I’ll never run from you,” I promise as he thrusts inside with a violence that shakes my entire body.
He presses a soft kiss on the side of my neck before licking the column with his hot tongue. Like an animal. “Good. Because you’d have to be out of your mind to think that I’ll ever let you go.”
Smiling, I come, gushing over his hard length. I come on my husband’s cock. I come as his wife. My orgasm brings forth his and he whips his dick out to ejaculate on my stomach.
There’s nothing sweeter than being joined to the man you love, the man you’re married to. It’s a different level of intimacy. But for the first time I feel like I want more. I want something beyond this. Abel looks into my eyes and I read the same hunger in the depths of his gaze.
But what could be more intimate than this? What could be more intimate, more revolutionary than being one with the person you love?
Abel takes a few days off to simply be with me and so do I.
My boss, Milo isn’t happy about it but it’s not as if I’m employee of the month or anything. No, I’m not even a good waitress. In fact, I hate my job. I hate that I have to stand on my feet all day long and that people call me excuse me, instead of by my name. My uniform consists of black shorts, the exact thing I hate. My back aches by the time I go back to my apartment, with noisy, sex-maniac neighbors. Mostly, I hate the fact that I’m a failed waitress. I spill more often than not. Even though Abel tells me to quit, I won’t. I’m going to be an adult and stick it out. But it’s nice to have a few days off.
We spend every waking moment together, mostly cooped up in our room, either talking or making love.
“I do not snore, you big idiot,” I swat at his naked chest. “Besides, you talk in your sleep.”
We’re on the mattress, with him lying on his back and me resting my head on his shoulder. We’re talking about all the things we didn’t know about each other before we lived together.
“What? That’s insane.” He swats my naked butt in return.