Because (Seven Year Itch #4)
Jennifer Foor
Chapter 1
His luscious lips course over mine ever so gently while lingering hands find the places he knows so well. He’s thirsty for this kiss, hungry to please me until the pain and worry has subsided. He’s determined, his mission clear and redundant. He knows what needs to be done to reassure my fears. He’s skilled like that, only displaying his knowledge when it counts the most. In a way I’m envious of this. I wish I could solve all my problems with physical actions, rather than fall victim to my own uncertainties.
I lift my hands and graze them over his hard biceps. My nails dig into the skin, gratifying me more than he could begin to imagine. I want him to hurt, and since I can’t make it happen on an emotional level, I’ll settle for the pain. My own face is soiled in tears, but soon they’ll be forgotten, at least temporarily. Like a depraved savage I accept this act of passion, because it is the only type of distraction powerful enough to relieve the constant ache I’m burdened with.
The stoke of his tongue glides over my lips, giving me every reason to part them. He suckles on the lower one, his hot bourbon filled breath a constant reminder of another reason this was happening. Our quarrelsome relationship is like fire to gasoline. On a cold winter’s night where the snow covers everything in its path, we’re protected, but like every hot summer the match is always waiting to ignite.
In this situation his petulant attitude isn’t relevant. I can overlook his actions for my own personal needs. We are beyond talking, or trying to come to a solution. There would be no common ground – there never was. Brandon always got what he wanted, even when he knew damn well it would break me to pieces.
There was a time where the man in front of me was everything I thought I wanted. He’d always been handsome, his light hazel eyes alluring me from across the lunchroom back in high school. His body was more stacked than the other guys our age. It was obvious he was physically fit, even if you didn’t know he was on the football, lacrosse and wrestling teams. He was popular and full of himself, which was what drew me to do whatever necessary to capture his attention, including putting out early on in the relationship. I wanted to be the only girl on his radar and I succeeded. We were just kids, still too na?ve to consider the consequences of unprotected sex. Back then he was the bad boy every girl wants the challenge of taming. He was known for being a player, having his choice of females lining up for the chance. I didn’t know any better. I used what little I knew about sex and jumped at the opportunity to date the sexiest guy in my graduating class.
Then we got pregnant.
Seven years later I’m married to someone I love with my whole heart, but also loath at the same time.
With each of his kisses giving me moments to rationalize about what was about to take place, I knew I had to push the pain aside and enjoy what little pleasure he was offering.
It wasn’t like I’d lose myself if I fell into this bought of frolicking. I deserved restitution for what this man put me through day in and day out. I was his puppet, the one person he chose to walk all over in order to feel empowered. By day he might take me for granted, the grieving wife no one seemed to believe, but every so often he’d come to me, determined to remind me of the reasons why I couldn’t be without him. My boastful husband allured me with years worth of practiced charm. With one kiss I was already fighting a losing battle. Mind over matter. Pain v/s pleasure. Which would you choose?
Lost in another tender kiss, I felt my only article of clothing being removed. My white cotton panties I’d just managed to put on after a long hot shower to relieve my latest anxiety attack. He backed me up against the bathroom vanity, the cold marble top giving me a chill starting at my ass. Then his hands were there, cupping each cheek and protecting them from the hard service beneath me. Drunk off the idea of being in this predicament, I reach my arms under his and lift them onto each shoulder. It gave me an advantage to keep him close so our make out session wouldn’t end prematurely. Times like this were hard to come by. We weren’t used to having moments where we could sneak off and have sex, not with a seven year old running around with some kind of special radar that could detect any type of physical contact between her father and myself. It never failed. The moment we would touch she’d somehow come out of nowhere and intervene.
“We don’t have much time,” Brandon managed to say in between hungry kisses. “I’m going to f*ck you in here so she can’t interrupt.”
Normally I’d be against locking the door to keep our daughter away, but I knew I needed to be selfish sometimes. For most of the day I’d been a nervous wreck, so naturally any reprieve was a good thing. I nod and pull him hard against my body, wrapping my legs around his waist to assure his position. “We’ll have to be quiet.”
Brandon stuck out his tongue and teased my mouth with it. Soft prickles shot to each of my limbs, especially my cold, exposed hardened nipples, which happened to be rubbing over his firm chest. I expect him to lift me onto the sink and spread my legs. Sex with my husband is never passionate or gentle. We don’t have time for romance, and he wasn’t the type of man to want to make any for it. When Brandon wanted sex he’d come for it, and we’d f*ck. I was settled on the fact that making love only happened once in a blue moon, and I was beginning to believe it wasn’t going to happen again until Hell froze over.