“I love you,” Alec whispers in my ear, his breath tickling me.
“I love you, too,” I rest my cheek against his chest, tightening my arms around his neck as we sway together.
Somewhere Only We Know by Keane plays softly in the background. “We didn’t dance to this song,” I mumble against his warm chest.
“What was that?”
“Oh, nothing,” I peer at him through my lashes, getting sucked into his alluring gaze.
He squeezes me tighter, his love enveloping me and filling me with warmth. In his arms I feel cherished, loved, safe.
“You’re my wife,” he says, kissing the top of my head.
“You’re the first boy I ever loved,” echoes eerily around us, blending in with the music. I pull back, twinkling lights surrounding us in a soft, hazy glow. I shake off the confusion, focusing back on Alec.
“I’ll always be your wife, Alec,” I lean in, softly touching my lips against his in a sensual kiss.
His soft tongue dances with mine. I groan into the kiss as he abruptly ends it and I open my eyes.
All around us is pictures, moments if you will, of our time together. Arguing, crying, hugging, kissing, laughing. Good and bad memories combined into one.
I stare at one in particular. The day we got married. I’ve never seen myself so happy. Tears brim my eyes, the wind blowing my dress. My eyes shine with so much appreciation, so much love for the man holding my hands.
The picture before me blurs, my heart hammering dangerously against my chest.
“I was fortunate enough to find my soulmate at such an early age,” the familiar words bellow all around me. “I can’t believe I get to stand before you today and vow to stick by your side through better or worse,” I spin in a circle, searching for the source. “No matter what storm we find ourselves in, we’ll weather the storm together,” my voice booms.
My insides twist, my breaths come out in short sputters, sweat lines my brow. I try to scream, “make it stop,” but it comes out in a hoarse whisper.
I frantically clutch my chest, searching all around me for the one person who can make me feel safe but he’s nowhere to be seen.
“Alec,” I attempt to scream but his name rolls off my tongue in a terrified croak.
Tears roll down my cheeks, a stabbing pain of loss infiltrating my fear-riddled chest. I squeeze my eyes shut, hoping to put an end to the onslaught of tears.
Loving arms wrap around me, embracing me and it’s him.
My eyes snap open and I’m met with a white ceiling. Tears run into my hairline and a heaviness settles in my heart. I wipe away the wetness, swallowing down the lump in my gullet.
With a shaky sigh I get out of bed, the cool air of the hotel room biting at my naked flesh. My gaze travels over Justin, still sleeping soundly with his muscled back turned to me.
“It was just a dream,” I whisper, running my hand through my hair with a shaky sigh. I avert my gaze, tiptoeing to the bathroom. “A dream eliciting a powerful visceral reaction.”
I hate those dreams.
The kind which leaves a lingering feeling of utter despair radiating through your chest. The same emotions you felt in your dream stay with you all day, taking a toll on your overall mood.
The fear and pain you felt don’t leave and the dream keeps playing on your mind like a movie. One of the most horrifyingly saddest movies you’ve ever seen.
I try to shake away the emptiness I feel but to no avail.
I’m going to go back to sleep and hope for the best. It’s the only thing I can think of to prevent me from sulking the rest of the day.
I flush the toilet and wash my hands, avoiding my reflection in the mirror.
I crawl back into bed, and I turn my back to Justin. I close my eyes, my dream replaying over and over without fail.
My body relaxes, sinking into the soft mattress. My breathing slows, my heart beating in a steady rhythm. I begin to doze off with a knot in my throat encapsulated by immense sadness progressing by the minute.
I don’t want to feel this way anymore.
I startle out of my relaxed state as Justin snakes his arm around my bare waist.
“I’m sorry, love,” he murmurs in a deep voice laced with sleep.
I take a deep breath, trying to calm my racing heart. “It’s okay,” I mumble.
“I’ll make it up to you,” I hear the smile in his voice as his fingers trail towards my breasts. He presses against me, his morning woody poking against my ass.
I shift in order to prevent it from going between my cheeks. I close my eyes imagining Alec in his place. I imagine Alec’s fingers pinching my nipples, his lips against my neck, his dick pressing hard against me.
The imaginary is arousing, exciting and a hundred percent responsible for the throb beginning to pulsate between my thighs. It’s also the reason the weight of the world lifts from my heart, allowing the sadness to part for this very moment.
I could always say no to Justin and tell him the truth – I’m not in the mood but I’d do anything to feel something aside from this overbearing sadness collapsing my heart.
So, I settle for a healthy dose of endorphins and oxytocin. I spread my thighs, slipping my fingers between my lips. I slowly rub my clit, going lower to wet my fingers in my arousal.
“Are you?” He asks, the bed shifting beneath his weight. “Masturbating?”
“Mmhmm,” I hum tantalizingly, releasing a soft moan.
“Can I… can I watch?”
“Lana,” he says my name with a sexy edge to it as I sit spread-out before him on my study chair.
“C’mon, Alec,” I say breathlessly. “I promise you’ll like it,” I run my hands sensually down my breasts, squeezing a handful of my soft flesh.
“Explain it to me again,” he licks his lips, staring at my hands filled with my breasts. I spread my fingers, flashing him my taut nipple.
“Do you, ahh, really need to hear it again?” I moan, pinching my nipples between my fingers.
“Yes, I wasn’t listening to you the first-time round. How could I when you look so goddamn perfect?” He clenches his fists on his lap, sitting on the edge of my bed.
I passionately work my fingers lower, goosebumps erupting over my body as my fingers trace my skin below my navel.
His gaze follows my naughty digits down to my pulsating center wet with need. I slip my fingers between my lips, rubbing my sensitive nub with a satisfying moan.
I edge them lower, inserting my middle and ring finger inside of me. My arousal coats my fingers as I pump them in and out seductively.
He bites his lip, his stormy gaze with blown pupils flickering to mine.
“Can I… can I watch?”
“We can both watch,” I whisper coquettishly, motioning to his straining cock.
“You want us to fuck ourselves in front of each other?” He asks, unbuckling his belt with an excited smile.
“You want us to… masturbate in front of each other?”
“Yes,” I say in a breathy moan, curling my fingers.
“I don’t know,” he says hesitantly.
“Would you prefer to take over?” I continue my assault, arching my back off the soft mattress.
“I’d prefer to make love to you and have you come undone beneath me.”
I stop my movements, hiding the dejectedness I feel at his lack of adventure. “Make love to me, Justin,” I purr, the sound oh-so fake but his pupils dilate more. The colour of his eyes barely visible.
“Your wish is my command,” he responds huskily, kissing up my legs.
I pretend to squirm, releasing exaggerated puffs of air through my nose to amplify the sound. He kisses over my most sensitive area, awakening real desire within me but it’s fleeting as he continues his upward trajectory.
“Oh, Justin,” I moan when he sucks my nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it.
His cock slides against my inner thigh, spreading precum over my skin. “You’re goddamn perfect,” he says against my neck.
He adjusts himself, pushing inside of me with a gruff moan.
“Ahh, Justin,” I force the words out of my mouth, moaning how I think I would if I were into this.
“Telana,” he whimpers as he thrusts his pelvis gently into mine.
He gazes into my eyes, ragged breaths spilling from his mouth. Morning breath hitting my nostrils.
One thing I can say is Justin’s morning breath isn’t as bad as most. There’s barely a stench. He’s one of those fortunate people who won the genetics lottery. That’s not quite right.
Genetics has nothing to do with his immaculate hygiene and regular dentist visits. He’s insistent on going but morning breath is morning breath.
I attempt to ignore it, focusing back on the feel of his cock moving in and out me, “Justin,” I throw in a moan.
Soft panting moans escape his parted lips, grunts of pleasure intwining with the sound. I buck my hips to his rhythm, hoping it’ll speed things along.
Perhaps if I gave it my all I would feel what he feels.
I focus all of my attention on his smouldering body against mine in ways I used to love. I shut my eyes in an attempt to clear my thoughts before gazing into his lust filled orbs.
A shudder runs through me, mild satisfaction peppering through my body.
“I love you,” he pants, his movements becoming sloppy.
“I love you, too,” I whimper as his moans begin to accelerate in quantity and volume.
I feel his body jerk, stiffen, tense, and writhe.
I’m not overly proud of this and I don’t recommend anyone doing this. It isn’t healthy for a person’s sex life in the present moment or the long run.
Again, I’m not proud of it and I feel shameful for even doing it, but I fake it.
I fake my orgasm.
I fake it hoping his own climax will distract him enough, so he doesn’t realize my walls aren’t clenching around him and my body isn’t shaking, shivering, tensing, and writhing beneath him.
I’ve never faked it before. It feels weird and wrong, but I can’t take it back. It is what it is.
I don’t believe all sex is meant to lead to an orgasm. Sometimes sex is just supposed to feel good and enjoyable, and I’ve always thoroughly enjoyed sex. To the point I began to feel like a nymphomaniac.
I’ve also almost always –ha, try saying that five times fast– orgasmed.
“That was, wow,” he breaths heavily, proof of how much he enjoyed it leaking out of me and soaking through the fabric.
“It was,” I faux sigh dreamily as though it was the best sex sesh I’ve ever had in my entire life – FYI it isn’t.
One of the best was the amazing sesh we had last night; no feigning needed. He ate me out like a pro and pounded me to kingdom come. I was deliriously happy but today I’m pretending to orgasm and getting stuck in my feels over a dream which holds no significance.
Lies.
I’m not feeling our relationship today. Problem is no guilt gnaws at me and that itself makes me feel guilty.
“I’m, um, going to go shower,” I say at the same time his phone blares on the bed side table.
Hesitation crosses his face and I sigh, “answer it.”
Without a response I head to bathroom to wash away the shameful feeling of fooling the man I love into believing I enjoyed it just as much as he did.
I make the water as hot as I can, and I stand below the steady stream with my eyes closed and my mind silenced.
I don’t know how long I stood there allowing the hot water to soothe my body before I actually began to wash.
I unfortunately couldn’t wash away the shameful feeling, nor could I scrub a better, more uplifting mood into myself.
Even as Justin massaged conditioner into my hair. Nothing seemed to be uplifting. I can’t shake the feelings that dream instilled in me. I can’t shake the disappointment I felt when Justin rejected my kinky offer. I can’t shake the shame I feel.
I’m going to carry it around all day.
“I’m sorry it was work; I have to cancel our breakfast at Blue Box Café. I know you’ve been looking forward to it all week.”
“It’s fine,” I shrug, turning on the blow-dryer, dissimulating nonchalance. I turn it off, “I would rather visit Naddie for the day. It’s been a while since I’ve seen her.”
“Telana,” he begins but I turn on the hairdryer, facing away from him.
I turn it off again once my hair is partly dry and I get up, turning to face him. “No y’know what I can’t believe you’re dropping out on our plans again. It’s clear now where your priorities lie.” The tension between us is palpable. I wouldn’t even be able to slice through it with a heavy-duty chainsaw.
“It’s my mom, Lana. What do you expect me to do?”
“Absolutely nothing,” I roll my eyes.
“Tell me what you want me to do, and I’ll do it! I’ll do anything to make you happy!” He throws his arms in the air, his chest rising rapidly. The sound of his raised voice drowning out the traffic below.
Strangely enough I believe him. He’ll do anything to make me happy, to get back to where we were in our relationship before I went home. Before I slept with my ex-husband, and before he kissed Rachel.
He’s been doing his best to move on from it, but I keep holding onto the past. I’m unable to let go and move on.
It’s me who’s the problem. “I just want us to stop fighting!” I exclaim, crossing my arms.
“Done!” His eyebrows furrow as he gesticulates wildly.
“Ugh!” I huff, my breath blowing strands of my hair into the air. They fall gently against my lips, tickling the soft skin below my bottom lip. “It… isn’t,” I squeeze my lips together tightly, roughly wiping the hair from my lips. “So easy,” I scowl, a sweet smile curling his lips.
“What?”
“You’re adorable,” he chuckles, the tension dissipating.
“Am not,” my scowl deepens but I feel a smile tugging at my lips.
“Come ‘ere,” he wraps his arms around me. I keep my arms folded tightly across my chest. “I’ll tell you what isn’t easy and that’s staying angry at you. Especially when you look so endearing. You say it isn’t easy, but it is.”
“No, it ain’t.”
“We’ve stopped fighting, love,” he kisses my forehead allowing his lips to linger.
“For now,” I mumble, hugging him back. “In my head it ain’t closed. I can’t let go or move on until it is.” That’s it. That’s why I can’t let go of Alec or move on from our fight. I can’t close it ‘cause everything’s unresolved.
“I’m sorry love but I promise we’ll close that box,” he takes my hand in his, giving it an encouraging squeeze. “Let’s go check out and I’ll drop you off by Nadia.”
Hand in hand, we descend in the elevator in silence. Our reflections distort in the golden walls of the elevator.
Soft music hums along with the vibrational sounds of the death box going downwards. An unexplainable nervousness awakens deep within my belly.
The elevator dings, the doors open revealing the elderly couple from the night before. They step in without a word. The man smirks and the woman, pushes her nose in the air with disgust. I stifle a laugh, drawing her attention.
She glares at me briefly with beautiful emerald, green eyes and her husband nudges her.
“You were young once,” I say, and Justin nudges me.
The elevator opens before the woman can respond. The elderly couple speedwalking out. Justin’s phone begins to ring, an annoyed sigh escaping my lips.
“Can you check out so long, please? I need to take this.”
“Fine,” I take the keycards from him, attempting to rudely grab our shared suitcase but he moves it out of my reach. With annoyance I head towards the front desk in the middle of the lobby with a crystal chandelier hanging above it.
“I hope you enjoyed your stay with us here at The Blossoming Rose, Mrs Williams.”
“Oh, I’m, we’re, uhm, thank you,” I squint, reading his golden plated nametag. “Thatcher. We definitely did,” I smile politely, unable to shake the unnerving feeling of someone staring at me.
I look left and right seeing nothing out of the ordinary. The few people in the lobby either have their faces buried in their braincell reducing black rectangular devices or they’re talking to people next to them.
An invigorating shiver runs down my spine and I turn around.
My breath catches in my throat, my heart skips a beat and I’m convinced my eyes are playing tricks on me.
What a cruel fucking trick.
Swirls of blue and green penetrate my retinas, sucking me in and pulling me closer.
Is it really him?
It can’t be.
Why would he be here? In New York City?
He wouldn’t be. Not after the way we left things.
He takes a step towards me, and I mirror him, unable to resist the undeniable pull I feel connecting us. The air between us is crackling with electricity as I gaze into his orbs, unable to prevent my eyes from flickering to his perfect lips.
My own tingle in anticipation, already feeling the phantom whisper of his lips against mine. I take a hesitant step towards him, my hands twitching with restrained need to touch him. Is it really him? Is this my reality or a figment of my imagination? A trick? A silly mirage?
Am I even awake or am I still dreaming?
Time does seem to be an illusion created by an evil mastermind to trick the masses into doing her evil bidding as his irises penetrate my soul, uncovering secrets I didn’t even know I had.
The buzzing in my ears drowns out the soft music and idle chatter. My heart beats uncontrollably yet calmly the closer I get to him.
I expel a nervous breath through my parted lips. The question, “is this actually happening?” dying on my tongue at the sheer intensity of his gaze.
My pulse explodes, my skin growing hotter with every hesitant step he takes. I attempt to mirror him, but my legs are weak at the knees.
I don’t even know what to say to Alec. I thought about what I would say to him a thousand times, but the right words never came to me when I played out scenario after scenario inside my head. It’s less likely to happen now that he’s in front of me.
Oh God.
He’s a wet dream come to life. He revs my engine without even trying and gets the juices flowing to ensure all cylinders are firing.
He’s the spark my fuel needs to ignite.
He’s the heart my body needs to pump blood and keep me alive.
I can’t very well say that to him… can I?
Pssh, no. What the heck am I thinking?
Arms suddenly wrap around me, navy green obscuring my view from the reason my heart is unstably calm and my mind a mess.
“Are you ready to go?” Justin asks as I move out of his embrace, frantically looking behind him, but Alec is gone.
Realization hits me like a steam train, knocking the air from my lungs.
He wasn’t really there.