Damage Done (29 page)

He pressed against her harder, and reached for her hands,
gripping both and bringing them high above her head until he held them tightly
against the wall with one hand. He kissed her neck and shoulder from behind,
his free hand reaching around her hips to her mound where his fingers slid in
and out of her wet folds with ease.

"You need an escape,
Rachel, your body is telling me what you won
’t,
it always told me what you wouldn't," he breathed into her ear, "You
want to forget? I can make you forget."

His cock pressed hard
against her through his pants as he worked her cunt, stirring responses she'd
never known her body craved, responses that conflicted with the gentle
lovemaking that made sense in her head. She was confused and angry.

“I own this pussy, Rachel,”
he growled, “Show me whose pussy it is, take it how you need it, puss.”

She let go, she did want to
forget, she wanted to let him make her forget. And as he drove her legs further
apart, her hands still held tightly over her head, she felt a new kind of
release. She stopped resisting and let go of trying to control the outcome. In
that fleeting moment, giving herself over to him, in accepting the pleasure he
gave her, she was liberated.

And when he felt the tension
leave her body, when he knew she wouldn't resist him, he released her hands.

"Don't take your hands
down," he demanded, both hands leaving her flesh until she felt his
fingers touch her already tight nipples. Her head fell back in pleasure, a
small gasp escaping her lips.

He leaned into her ear and
breathed, "You fucking love that, don't you? Your pussy is begging for it,
you need me to tell you what to do."

"Dylan-"

"Be quiet," he
growled, "Just stand there."

He pulled his hands from her nipples and a flash of panic
flooded through her. She turned to face him, she needed to know what he was
doing, what he was thinking.

"Don't move!" he
snapped as he pushed her hands back up to the wall.

He drove his free hand between her legs, his fingers
sliding easily into her tight core, her body shaking as he plunged deeper,
driving her towards an orgasm. She moaned loudly, her breath coming fast and
heavy as she bucked against his fingers inside of her.

"Do you need to cum,
Rachel? Is that the release you're looking for?"

He let go of her hands but
she kept her palms flat against the cool wall while he pulled his rocked dick
out and pressed the tip into her entrance. One hand reached for her breast, the
other wrapped around her waist and he jerked her back onto the hard shaft. She
let out a scream, overwhelmed by the pleasure of his thickness burying inside
of her. He pulled her further onto his cock, driving into her mercilessly.

"Is that it, is that
what you needed, Rachel? A hard dick driving into that tight pussy?"

She moaned loudly, reaching
desperately to steady herself as he pumped harder from behind, his dick growing
inside of her.

"That's right, take it,
is this what you came here for?"

He held the tight grip on her waist but let go of her
breast and reached for her hair, pulling her head back to him, his voice in her
ear made her quiver, "Open that pussy up and take it."

Her body fell limp as she
came, her cunt convulsing hungrily as he drove his raging dick in and out of
her, one long moan filling the room. He ravished her until he ripened, pulling
her to the root as he pulsed with climax, his hands holding her roughly to him
until it was over, and he withdrew slowly, steadying her against the wall, her
breathing labored and her legs weak.

"Don't move," he
said, one last time.

He reached for a dish towel in the drawer and gently wiped
between her legs, an act of intimacy she’d never experienced. He threw it to
the ground and leaned over her, his hands high against the wall over hers.

"I bet he never fucked
you like that," he whispered hoarsely.

And he walked from the room, leaving her alone and
bewildered, her body spent.

***

Her thoughts raced and
nervousness invaded every deliberate breath, slowly inhaling through her nose,
then exhaling through her mouth, trying to stay grounded and keep herself calm.

What had she just done? She had to make her world stop
spinning, she had to take control again. She'd always believed strong women
didn't want to be objectified, they should demand sensitivity and reject sex
that took away their control. It conflicted with everything she’d valued in her
work and in taking back her self-worth. What was wrong with her? Dylan had left
her alone, her hair a mess, her body sore from his rough hands and rougher
manners.

As she left him now, and
waited for the elevator in the hall, Rachel's stomach turned in knots, reliving
how she'd reacted to him, the delicious ache between her legs a sour reminder
of how her body had betrayed her, betrayed the simple tastes that she'd thought
defined her.

She loved Dylan, she'd known
it her entire life, and she'd known it as he fucked her, destroying her sexual
identity and leaving her body screaming for more. He'd been demanding, vulgar
and remorseless, and she'd never felt more urgency for sex so wholly obscene.
But then he’d left her there, and confusion and shame flooded through her. She
had to leave.

“Rachel!” Dylan yelled from
down the hall. She looked to him as he ran toward her, his hair wet from the
shower, he stood over her, “Where are you going?”

“I’m going home.”

“Don’t.”

“Why not?” she asked
shakily, “You resent me.”

“I don’t resent you, Rach. I'm
sorry, I just-"

“This was a mistake, Dylan,
we’ll never be able to forget.”

"No, we'll never forget," he said, "But we
can get past it."

"No! Look at what just happened! You'll regret
it!"

"It was just sex,
Rachel," he said gently, "I'm sorry. I was weak. I shouldn't have
said those things, I was hurt. I thought I wanted to hurt you. I'm still
adjusting, too. But, regrets aren't worth it, puss. We
’ll always have regrets about the past, but we can
find a way to deal with it, the past will heal itself over time. But regretting
what we don't do from here on out? Those are the regrets that never leave us,
the things we wish we'd done differently. I won't fear the future. It's no way
to live. Stay with me, Rachel."

The elevator door opened and
he stood silent, giving her the power to choose.

Rachel stopped making
excuses, stopped asking herself what was expected of her. She'd spent her
entire adult life trying to play by the rules, but the rules kept changing,
everything was different now. He'd been the one she'd wanted to spend her life
with, the one she was going to have children with. This was Dylan, he belonged
to her.

For the first time in
sixteen years she didn't tell herself it was wrong to feel the way she did, she
didn't ask herself if she was deserving enough, smart enough, pretty enough.
The elevator door closed and she held his hand tightly, not because she was
afraid it wasn't real, but because she needed to make up for the time that had
been stolen. She chose to stop running. This was her life. She was going to
live it.

"We'll figure it out,
puss," he whispered, holding her close, "We'll figure it out and then
you'll come home to me, here or wherever you want, none of the rest of it
matters. We'll work it out."

***

Dylan picked her up and
walked back to his apartment, her legs wrapped around his waist. Rachel was
staying there with him, she
’d chosen to
stay, and he had to make it up to her. He’d been too upset about Michael, and
hurt that she hadn’t come to him sooner.

He carried her into his bedroom and laid her gently on his
bed, his hand slid silkily up her thigh, underneath her dress to caress the
most sensitive part of her legs, the small pieces of flesh just next to her
sex. Her warm breath mingled with his, and her nipples grew beneath her dress.
Dylan gently parted her thighs and teased her folds skillfully through her thin
panties.

"Purr for me,
kitten," he whispered, sliding the panties to the side to touch her hot
center where it throbbed for more.

She exhaled, trying to let go for him and he pushed her to
relax, moving slowly until she was moaning softly as he slid a single finger up
and down her pursed lips. He helped her pull her dress off, she eased the
panties down her legs and he laid her back, kissing her sweetly. He took his
time building her excitement, until his thumb began its rhythmic cycle around
her clit, massaging her towards orgasm, and his mouth reached down to cover her
nipple. She gasped as his lips and tongue started pulling it slowly in and out
of his mouth. When his fingers finally made their entry, she came, her body
quaking unexpectedly. Then the tension left her and he held her naked body
close to him.

“I’m sorry, Rachel,” he
whispered, “I was brutal earlier. I’m too angry about Michael, and bitter. I
never want to hurt you because I’m hurting, Rachel. And I shouldn't have- I
shouldn't have been so rough. Forgive me.”

“Dylan,” she rasped tearily,
“Don’t- I wanted it.”

He looked down at her then,
surprised, she was letting him in again. And he adored her for it. Whatever
mistakes she'd made, however indecisive and insecure and vulnerable she'd been,
Rachel deserved more from him. He'd failed her. And he'd spend the rest of his
life trying to make it up to her.

“You’re everything to me,
Rachel. Then and now. I will rip my heart out before I let you get hurt again.
Tell me what I can do. I need you.”

"Dylan, I told
him."

His heart raced, relief
poured over him and he leaned in to kiss. She was his again.

She’d told her husband she
wanted a divorce, and pain shot through him thinking what it must have felt
like to be on the receiving end of that conversation.

He'd destroyed another man's marriage. It was what he
wanted, but it felt fucking terrible.

"I thought you were
going to wait."

"I couldn't live with
it, it wasn't fair," she said.

No, it wasn't fair. But
living without her wasn't fair, losing Michael wasn't fair. Fuck fair.

"I'm sorry, Rachel."

"I'm not. I shouldn
’t have married somebody I could live with, I was
supposed to marry the person I couldn’t live without.”

She shared how she'd met
Kenneth, Dylan listened with heartache as she outlined the good and the bad,
and then relief as she told him how she
’d
never stopped loving him.

He knew the conversation was far from over, that Kenneth would
haunt Rachel as she'd haunted him. Moving forward, their marriage and its
demise would be as much a part of Dylan's life as it would their own. It was a
price he was willing to pay.

***

"Tell me about your
kids," he said.

They were laying in the tub, he ran his hands over her wet
skin, his lust spent. He needed to know all of her again.

"Hunter is eight, he's
brilliant and funny, all boy. He's energetic and athletic, and loves to read.
But he's bossy and squirms a lot and his teachers hate that. We've had a hard
time keeping him focused, he just wants to chat everybody up. But I love that
about him, I envy it, you know? Him and Lauren both, she's almost four, they've
never met a stranger, they're both so outgoing and friendly. But Lauren is more
than that, she's like this cunning little diva, friendly, but she'll snap your
neck if you cross her," Rachel laughed, "but I love that about her,
too, she's so willful and independent, and gorgeous. She's the most beautiful
little thing."

"Like her mother,"
he interjected, squeezing her before reaching for the soap and lathering her
back and shoulders.

"No, not like me,"
she said, "I mean, she does look like me, but she's got this spark, people
are just drawn to her. It's hard to explain."

She hesitated, and then asked, "What about Michael?
Tell me about him."

He ran his hands down her
arms, and sat quietly for a moment. He hadn't wanted to talk about Michael, but
he'd opened the door by asking about her kids, it was only natural that she'd
have questions, too.

"He's amazing. That kid
has everything, he's crazy smart, you know? He never has to work for his
grades, it all just comes naturally to him, science, math or whatever, he just
eats it up. So he loves a challenge, anything that makes him have to use his
brain," he slowed, "I bought him that old Porsche for his sixteenth
birthday, the one I gave that woman, we did all of the restoration ourselves.
Actually, he did most of it, he just opened up a book and knew everything we
had to do, it blew my mind."

She let the water drain from
the tub, they stood to rinse one another off, and after he'd gotten started,
Dylan couldn't shut up.

They lay together on the bed, chatting for hours.
Every story, every skinned knee, refusing to ski the bunny slopes because he
wasn't a baby anymore, all of it came rushing out of him, he shared all of it
with her. And she smiled and laughed, and when he got choked up, she wiped
tears from her face.