"You're not ready, Ivy, and that's okay. We don't have to do this now. We have all the time in the world. Don't force it. Fuck … please don't force it." I couldn't handle knowing that she making herself follow through with it.
Her grey eyes opened, glistening with unshed tears, and she looked right at me as she spoke. "I'm not forcing anything, Cade. I swear. I'm okay; I just thought you were stopping. I don't want you to stop."
I was stunned. She had gotten upset at the thought I would end what we had just started. There was no way she was that insecure about herself, and I found it a necessity to correct that thought. I kissed her and began to move slowly back into her warmth, never taking my lips from hers. I sank all the way into her and felt my balls clench. She was so warm and tight … I wanted to bury my dick in her and never leave. I wanted to feel her wrapped around me all the time.
"Jesus, fuck … you feel so fucking good, Ivy," I mumbled against her lips.
She moaned softly and then gasped as I pulled almost all the way out before slamming back into her. I was soft and gentle, but I needed to make sure she knew I was there. I needed her to feel me long after I was gone.
"Say something, Ivy."
She shook her head as if she couldn't speak.
"Anything. I don't fucking care what it is … just talk. Do you like this?" I asked and she nodded, pulling her face closer to my ear. "Then fucking tell me you like it. I want to hear it."
"I fucking like it, Cade."
I couldn't help but smile at that. She was shy and inexperienced, but I would open her up. I would open her up so far I'd be able to see inside her, and then bury myself there forever. "Tell me how you want it. Harder? Softer? Faster? Slower? Tell me. I need to know."
I felt her shake her head against my face and let out a soft grunt. Her inner walls tightened around me as I circled my hips, making sure to brush my pelvic bone over her clit. I needed to watch her come undone before I finished. As much as I wanted to cross that line with her, holding her hand as we made it home, I needed to watch her face as she came around me.
I began to thrust harder, keeping up with the circular motion she seemed to like so much. My eyes remained on her, watching every facial expression she made. Her walls grew tighter and tighter as her breathing slowed down, almost stopping completely. She was close … so close.
"I want to hear you say my name when you come. I need to hear it," I panted as I continued with my thrusts. Once she held her breath, I knew it was only a matter of seconds before she let go. "My name, Ivy. I need to hear you say my name."
The waves began to take hold of her, pulling her down like a riptide. Her eyes popped open for a moment, locking on to mine. Then they closed tight as she screamed my name, grabbing my shoulders and digging her nails into my skin, and her legs locked my hips between them like a vice. Her pussy walls clenched my dick so hard I thought she would strangle it, but it was the best feeling in the world. I had to fight to keep from coming.
And that's when everything around me began to close in. The outer rim of my vision turned black and fuzzy. Ivy's screams changed and sounded as if they were far away. My ears began to ring, making some noises faint while others became more prominent. The bed springs creaked, rapidly. The grunts, not sure if they were hers or mine, grew deep and desperate. And instead of hearing my name calling out in pleasure, I heard fear and desperation in the loud cries. Sweat formed on the back of my neck and I felt lightheaded.
"Cade? Cade … are you … ?" Ivy's voice slowly brought me back.
I looked around and noticed I was in her room, not my parents' room. But it didn't do anything to calm my nerves once I looked down and saw us on her bed. The one place I couldn't be intimate with someone. My eyes traveled down her body until I reached the place where we were joined. I was no longer inside of her and I was no longer hard. Thoughts, questions, and fears attacked my brain all at once. Was I rough with her like I had been with Alyssa? How long was I trapped in the black hole of my memories?
"I … I have to go," I mumbled and then jumped up, trying to ignore the sounds of the springs in the bed as they gave way to my movements. I couldn't look at Ivy. I knew she wouldn't understand. No one understood.
I grabbed my jeans from the floor and pulled them on without bothering with my boxers. I didn't even bother with my shoes as I picked up my remaining belongings and ran out the door as if Ivy's father just caught us fucking on the couch. My heart was beating so fast I worried it would never calm down and my head was so fuzzy I felt drunk.
I stopped as soon as I reached my car and bent down, holding myself up with my hands on my knees, and threw up on the pavement. I knew a panic attack was coming, but I didn't waste any time trying to control it. I got in my car, blasted ice-cold air in my face, and took off, hoping I'd make it home before my memories crushed me.
I somehow managed to send out a mass email to all of my clients and the therapists I used to refer patients to me. I couldn't tell you what it said other than I needed personal time. It was probably full of typos and incomplete sentences, but I didn't care. My mind was too dark and too loud to comprehend anything I was doing. The only thing I knew for certain was that I had ruined Ivy, Ivy had decimated me, and my life was completely crumbling down all around me.
Everything was a blur. I had no idea what day it was, what time it was, or what was real versus imaginary. At first, it was panic-induced, but after that started to wear off and my conscious began to return, it was alcohol-induced. I didn't eat, and if I slept, it was because I had passed out; all I did was drink, hoping to numb myself enough to forget everything.
But it did the complete opposite.
I sat on the floor with my back against the wall, staring down the hall that led to the kitchen. My dad walked in, and he looked the same as he did when I was seven. It was weird because I knew that had been twenty-seven years ago, but he hadn't aged a day. He had a baseball in one hand and a mitt over the other. His smile was large on his face, just as I remembered it looking. And he seemed so carefree.
He knelt down in front of me and opened his mouth to talk, but the words didn't match his face. They were angry, harsh sounding, and went against the smile and happy eyes that were in front of me. "Are you fucking my wife?"
"What are you talking about, Dad?" I asked, hoping my words weren't as slurred as they sounded to my own ears. If he knew I was drunk, I'd be sent to my room. Wait … this isn't real. I kept trying to tell myself even though it felt as if I could reach out and touch him. It was if I had been inserted back into that moment, back in time.
"You think you can come into my house and fuck my wife?" he roared again, but again, his face was soft and his smile was bright. It didn't make any sense. Why was he saying those things and why did he look so happy? His words were the complete opposite of his actions, of the look on his face.
I looked around me, wondering whose house I was in. I started to question everything. He mentioned going to his house, but I thought I was in mine. Fear began to envelop me as the questions became worse. "Dad?"
"Caden!" my mother's voice rang out from somewhere in the distance, but there was no mistaking the fear in her tone. I turned my head briefly, trying to see where it was coming from, but when I turned back, my dad was gone. He was no longer in front of me with the happy smile I remembered him always wearing. I tried listening again for my mom to say something else, but there was nothing.
The room was silent and the only sounds I could hear were my heart racing in my chest and my own erratic breathing. The lights were bright and blinding, causing my eyes to constrict and send a pain throughout them. My head began to throb, and the next thing I knew, I was on my back on the kitchen floor, staring up at the blinding florescent lights.
"He's okay. Not a scratch on him. But he's severely dehydrated and lethargic." A woman was speaking above me, but I couldn't see her, nor could I see the person she was talking to. There were other sounds around me, metal on metal, rustling around, but I couldn't see anything. The only thing that was visible was the blinding lights that made my head swim.
"Okay. Whom do we have here?" a deep voice boomed close by. It was a male, but it didn't sound familiar. It wasn't my dad or anyone I knew. Who was there and what were they talking about? Nothing made sense and the fear crept in even more … nearly consuming all of me.
"Caden Morgan, age eight," the woman spoke again. Then her voice went soft as she whispered, "He was found in the Morgan house and has been in and out of consciousness since arriving. No one knows how long he was there or what he witnessed."