Lust(37)

"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."