"Never."
Brad slides off my shirt before pressing our bare chests together. When I again try to kiss him, he won't allow our lips to touch.
"I want you to relax," he whispers against my neck.
"I am relaxed."
"No, you're really not."
Brad's fingers slide down my spine. His touch awakens my flesh, making me squirm on his lap.
"I want you," I murmur.
"You need this."
"You're trying to change me."
"If you didn't want to change, you wouldn't care how I saw you. You crave tenderness, Saskia. You've just forgotten what it feels like."
"Do you want me to change you?" I ask, frustrated by how he won't let me kiss him.
"I want you to relax."
Despite his soft touch and warm skin, I never relax to his satisfaction. Finally, I rest my head on his chest and close my eyes.
His heartbeat is slow and steady. Brad isn't nervous or angry about me being with him. I try to give him what he wants, but resting in his arms makes me think of sex. My hips roll instinctually against the hardness between his legs. His strong hands grab my thighs and keep me still.
"Why are you afraid to sit still?"
"I'm not."
Brad studies my face in the darkness. His fingers leave my thighs and caress my cheeks. He frowns slightly before kissing my forehead.
"You don't even realize you're lying."
"I want you."
"And I want you to relax."
Kissing him, I enjoy only a taste before he wraps me in his arms. I rest my head against his chest again. My hands reach around him and caress his back. As they linger over his scars, my fingers are tender in a way they're rarely capable.
I breathe slowly and deeply, enjoying his hot, clean scent. I imagine him in the shower, washing every inch of his strong body. In my mind, I join him, and he washes me too. As I bare myself to him, he cleanses the sins of my past.
Time passes as we hold each other in the quiet room. When I sit up and stare into Brad's eyes, he remains silent. My lips find his, and he doesn't stop me this time. Our mouths lock together, and I can't breathe.
The truth is I don't want to breathe. All I desire is for Brad to consume me in every way un-til I'm part of him.
26
Saskia
Sins of My Mother
Heavenly hours pass in Brad's bed. I crave this distraction from all the reasons we can't work. Every time he tries to speak, I cover his mouth with mine. Silence is golden. Ignorance is bliss. Tomorrow will offer only cold reality. For tonight, though, we only know pleasure.
His body is so strong that he moves around the room with our bodies attached. We fuck against the dresser and wall. He carries me to the bathroom where I stand on the counter while he sucks my swollen lips. I nearly rip the mirror loose from the wall in a fit of pleasure.
Once I'm satisfied, his cock returns to my body as Brad moves us to the floor near the fireplace. His hips frantically thrust until he finds a powerful release inside me. I can't keep up with his pace. My hands grip his arms while my pussy sucks hard at his cock. I want him inside me forever. When we fuck, the world outside this room doesn't matter. I can't remember Little Maven or the cult. I only see Brad and know I make him happy.
We find our way back to the bed where Brad explores my body before fucking me again as if it's our first time. My pussy throbs with satisfaction and a hint of pain from the vigorous penetration by such a large man. Screw the lack of logic with our size differences. In this room, I believe Brad was created only for me.
Just after two in the morning, Brad climbs out of bed and stretches. When I smile at the sight of his perfect body, he catches me looking and shares my grin. I expect him to use the bathroom, but instead he dresses in a shirt and boxers. Frowning, I sit up as he tosses my shirt at me.
"Let's go outside," he says softly.
I refuse to leave the bed. Saying nothing, Brad studies me in the dark room.
"Why can't we stay in here?" I finally ask.
"I want fresh air, and I want you to come with me."
How can I say no? I feel all wrong without Brad nearby. I need him to keep me warm and grounded. Otherwise, I might freeze from the ugliness of my past catching up with me.
Even pulling on my shirt and panties, I don't leave the bed. Brad watches me for a long time before wiping a fresh tear from my cheek.
"I don't cry," I whisper.
"I know."
He holds out his hand, and I take it quickly. My eyes continue to tear. I doubt this is how normal people cry. I've never cared enough to pay attention to a person's tears. Working my job meant feeling nothing even when emotions were all around me.
Stumbling after Brad, I hate the wetness on my cheeks. Even lost in my tears, I grab my gun before we leave the room.
The dogs wake when we walk into the living room. I'm actually happy to see them. With my tears, I need help protecting Brad.