hello there, trigger warning here. HUGE trigger warning. MAJOR trigger warning. I advise you skip this chapter if you have any concern for certain subjects and themes.
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Let not sin
therefore reign
in your mortal body,
to make you obey its passions.
ROMANS 6:12
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THIS IS HIS FAVOURITE.
It's vacuum sealed to my skin, a tight fit on my every curve and arc, my waist small and my hips supple, like the perfect hook for his hand to hold onto at night. It's a hot, fire engine red, and he said it brings out the color of my eyes, but I think it brings out his: blazing, hungry want.
Everyone decided that we would go with the traditional colors of red and green this year, to truly revel in the Christmas glee when celebrating our Saviour's birth. Joy and merriness dance across the room like the twinkling fairy lights of the glorious pine tree, everyone bursting with infectious, spirited grins and topped with Santa hats. Warm, amber light from the hearth spills over the decorated space as my family gathers round on the floor, getting ready to open the presents.
I look at him across the room, standing out on the balcony.
Night had long fallen over the sky, the promise of heat gone with the vanquished sun of the winter's day. The bitter wind howls and scratches against the glass window, beckoning us to let him in for a treat of untouched skin. Outside is a barren wasteland of white, where it appears the only survivor of the biting battle is him.
Taking long, slow drags of his cigarette, he stands leaning against the wooden post in nothing but his black dress pants and winter coat, his figure solid and towering. He faces the bare trees and icy garden, unmoving and still, as if part of a landscape tableau. He catches me staring at him when he turns around.
His lips stretch into a grin so wide it looks like his face might split into two. He squeezes his way through the sliding doors before shutting them and striding towards me. The glow of the fire flickers on his face, calling attention to his features — all dark yet soft, glaring yet gentle — like an angel.
Long arms wrap around my waist from behind and his nose buries itself into my neck. I lean into his chest. He smells like gingerbread, vanilla with a biting spice. I kiss the spot on his jaw just beneath his ear, and a low hum rumbles against my neck as his fingers tighten on me.
"Aw, well won't you look at that?" Nana interrupts. Her hands clasp together against her cheeks with a shining thrill in her eyes. "Let's hope I get some grandchildren next Christmas."
Everyone in the room erupts into deep laughter.
"Mm. I can't wait for next year, then," he whispers, his breath hot against my ear.
A shiver in my shoulders unfurls goosebumps down my bare arms. I look at him. Beaming with childlike delight, his eyes smolder with thick, heavy desire. A zing of electricity involuntarily shoots right down my core. I ignore it.
"It's time to open presents!" my nephew, George, squeals and runs to Nana to tug at her skirt.
My father speaks up. "Go on then."
I look at him.
In his spot, on the ground near the tree, jolly with flushed cheeks, I can almost see how his whole body is gushing with whiskey.
Nana scoops her great-grandson up and says, "alright, alright. But what do you do before you open your presents?"
George's face warmps into an annoyed frown.
"What do you mean? You just open them, dumbass! C'mon, don't waste time, old woman!" He twists and turns in her arms to get down. Then I remember that George is seven years old.
Nana gives him a slap on his arm. He freezes.
She frowns, her face in bewilderment and her voice a whisper when she asks, "where did you learn that from, George?"
The boy stares back at her. Then she looks at the man sitting on the couch. I look at my brother too.
"Beats me." He shrugs. "Must be some kids from his school he picked up from."
Her eyes go back to George. "Don't ever say that again, you understand me? Or else there won't be any presents for you to open."
The young boy's face goes into shock with disbelief and he quickly covers his mouth before nodding his head.
"Good. And you pray before opening your presents. That's how you show God that you're grateful for all that he's done and given for you."
I look at everyone in the room.
"You know the drill everyone. We're going to do a full round, starting with Hail Mary."
From behind me, he unwraps his arms to get ready to pray. Nana begins, and I watch him do the sign of the cross.
He taps his forehead, his chest, his left shoulder then his right.
"Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee. Blessed art thou among women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus..."
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Four hours later, we're home. The house is sleeping in the dark before I switch on the lights and walk to the kitchen, my heels clicking against the floor. Tire makes my vision bleary and eyelids heavy, with every bit of my body just begging to sink into the soft bed to get a good night's sleep. I open the cupboard to for a glass and begin to pour myself some water.
Suddenly, I find his hands rubbing out the knots of my shoulders, tenderly massaging with his fingers. I let out a sigh of content as my body starts to loosen.
"That feel good?" he asks.
I relax and close my eyes, hand putting down the jug of water. "Mm."
He travels up from my shoulders to the base of my neck and behind my ears, kneading all the tension before going down my arms. After he's done, he coils his arms around my waist once again and presses a kiss to the ball of my shoulder. He starts to run his nose up and down my throat, pushing my head to fall back onto his chest. With every bit of my skin, I feel his breath shudder each time he exhales onto my body, sending a crawl of prickles up my back.
"You looked so beautiful today," he purrs into my ear and arousal instinctively shoots to my core. Kisses are slowly pressed onto my skin.
I like when he's like this.
But then his large palms feel my hips and thighs, riding my dress up.
Now, it's up to my waist, my legs exposed to the chilly air.
I've never been this bare in front of him before.
My heart begins to beat quicker as he steps back and looms over me. His eyes burn with such a fiery desire that I feel myself go wetter just under his scrutiny.
Then he drops to his knees and goes face to face with my core.
The air blows icy against my skin while he grips the back of my thighs. Wetness pools and stains my undergarments the longer his face is there, my southern region growing from a slow burning ache to a wet, throbbing point.
We've never done anything like this before.
Then he fits his nose into the fold of my panties.
I take in a sharp gasp and my legs start to quiver from a mix of the cold, tire and his seduction. He takes in my scent, and the sigh of content is a hot fever over my panties.
He growls, "you smell fucking amazing."
Immediately I shift my legs uncomfortably and squeeze my core, as if trying to satisfy some friction. What is happening? My heart thuds faster and faster and I can hear it my ears, beating the drums. Breathing is shallow and heavy and hard. I try to control myself but I can't.
I've never done this before.
He pushes my legs apart further and starts nipping at the skin of my inner thighs, tiny pinches around my core without touching it. I have to grip to the kitchen counter so I don't fall. Burning tension runs all the way down and I don't think I've ever been this wet before. His thumbs stroke my inner thighs and I nearly buckle as the ache gets more painful.
"Please." I bite my lip to distract myself.
He looks at me. His eyes burn with such scalding desire while he traces everywhere except for the place I want him to touch most. My eyes shut close.
It feels so hot and stuffy I feel myself break out in sweat over my forehead and beneath my armpits and I still feel him looking at me. The granite cuts into my skin with my tight hold and my eyebrows furrow with so much intensity I feel my head start to hurt.
Though nothing is as painful as it is down there.
I'm not ready.
But my mind and body feel like they're about to split from trying to fight the desire.
He presses his thumb flat on my core and I let out a strangled moan. It's so painful but so good but something in my head tells me it isn't right. He hasn't even moved yet I feel like every bit of my body is a frayed nerve. I bite my lip again.
His blunt finger rubs my slick panties and something akin to a dog's cry comes out of my mouth. My core throbs with such an agonizing sore I find my body unwillingly moving against his thumb.
I'm panting.
The pit of my torso starts to tighten and tighten and tighten like a twisted knot as he strokes me.
"Faster." I don't recognize my voice.
His thumb rubs and smears and I know I'm going to snap at any minute because I feel myself go higher and gasping for air and whimpering —
Then he stops and pulls down my dress.
Next thing I know my legs are wrapped around his hips and he's carrying me to the room. My back hits the wall as he crashes his lips into mine. Everything is but a blur till he starts rubbing his denim-bound length against my wet panties and I find myself rocking my hips against him. He lets out a low grating growl.
I'm being flung onto the bed. Hovering over me, his body is a silhouette against the light of the night, streaming in through the window, tall and big, his body hovering over me like he's ready to pounce.
He unbuttons his jeans and pulls down the zipper and I still.
All the sexual heat I felt before drops.
The earlier pleasure scorches into panic and anxiety in the pit of my stomach like a hot unstoppable snowball.
I start crawling back on my elbows. "I'm not ready."
My heart thuds so loud I hear it echo in the room.
"C'mon babe, don't you want to try this?" He grips his erection in his filthy hand, waving it like a doggy treat. I want to scream but I can't because I'm afraid I might just vomit.
He yanks on my ankles and pulls me down till I find his member pointing down at my core.
"I've waiting for this for too long."
No no no no.
I thrash and try to kick his face. My back snaps up and I muster all my strength to shove him away from anywhere but near me.
He gives me one tight slap to my cheek.
A hot sting runs numb through my skin but the weight and strength of his hand makes my jaw feel like he nearly swung my head off. I'm so stunned I stop moving.
He crawls on all fours towards me before his hand holds my cheek. My entire body shrieks with terror but I'm frozen and paralyzed. It's as though he's got it wrapped around my neck and choking me. He runs his fingers through my hair to push it back. The room feels very, very small.
"Jesus, babe. What's the fuss about? Now you've made me hurt you."
His eyes burn through mine with such a wild fiery thirst I feel like I'm already naked. He leans forward and kisses my forehead. My nose. My eyes. Then he pulls his hand away and kisses both cheeks tenderly. My body trembles the moment he reaches my lips.
The kiss is so soft and gentle and kind it almost makes me vomit. With his eyes still on me, he draws back and uses one hand to peel off his shirt. I swallow down the rising clench of my throat as I try not to look at his monstrous body.
He reaches out and pulls my dress over my head.
I shut my eyes but I can feel him looking at me.
"My God, you look so fucking delicious."
My legs are pushed apart and his thumb depresses down onto my private area again.
"And you're already soaking. You like that?"
His voice low and beckoning as his finger strokes my core. I unwillingly squeeze down, so itchy to have something to clench onto that disgust rises up my throat. I bite my lip but let my back rack with quiet cries. My hips buck to get more friction onto my heat, and stroke after stroke and breath after breath I feel my stomach start to clench once more.
Even my body has betrayed me.
The tension builds and I want to scream at how intense it is but I moan desperately instead. I start to shake and tremble and it's so much it's too much I need to let go I feel myself about to shatt —
Then he stops.
"Not yet." He kneels on the bed.
"Hold tight, babe," he whispers. "This is going to hurt."
I'm about to ask what he means but my answer is my own scream.
He's shoved himself in me and violent pain stretches and rips my core. He pounds over and over and our skin slaps against one another's so hard the sound is almost vulgar to my ears. Faster and stronger like a raging animal he ploughs into me with all his might.
"Christ, you're so fucking tight, it's incredible. We should've done this a long time ago," he grunts.
I cover my ears and start to pray. I cannot listen to him or my own body.
Every bit of his virility is undeniably powerful and brutal, and his face contorts with nothing but carnal, savage hunger. The bed beneath us creaks as he slams himself into me so deep I feel it at the base of my womb. The next move is ripping my bra off and kneading my breasts with rough hands. I pull at my hair to distract myself from the pain.
It doesn't work.
Holy Mary,
I try to clamp my legs shut but when he groans I know I've made a mistake, and I try to shove him away.
He grips my thighs and forces them apart and I scream again.
"Stop fighting it, babe. It'll be more painful if you do," he says between grit teeth.
Mother of God,
He grabs onto my rear and wraps one of my legs around him and we hit a different angle completely, with him buried into me almost to the hilt. So intimate. So personal. So close.
I almost vomit.
Hovering above me, his eyes fixate at the spot our bodies meet. It's almost as if he can't look away, compelled and fascinated at our bodies meeting at one place. I cover my mouth with my hand to stop the sobbing.
His lips stretch into a wide grin and his dirty mouth consumes mine. This kiss is reckless and frantic and fast and hard just like every thrust. The pain has subsided a little and this is a distraction and I want to say it feels good but dear God I can't. He looks at me.
pray for us,
"Tell me you like this. Us like this."
NO.
YES.
NO.
I nod my head.
"Say it. Say you like this."
I look at him.
NO.
Eyes filled with hope and desperation.
YES.
Pummeling into my body like hammering meat.
NO.
"Please, babe." His face twists in struggle.
A beat skips.
"I like this," I whisper.
sinners now,
His body goes still and he lets out a cry of release before collapsing over my chest. He huffs and puffs against my body, our sticky bodies together.
"Thank you, babe," he croaks, and shifts himself to spoon me.
I do not let myself flinch.
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The first thing I smell is his semen and sweat and cigarette breath.
My insides feel like they've been battered and burned. It's cold because the duvet is no longer over my body, yet it's like his hot hands are all over me, smothering over every bit of skin, eagerness itchy at his fingertips.
My whole body is slack and in pain it's like I'm having a godforsaken hangover. I want to believe that all of last night didn't happen.
But his touch is so real. Down my neck, over my nipples —
My heart stops beating.
Stubble scratching my skin —
"Shh, stop kicking, Mommy's asleep."
It feels like there isn't any air.
No no no no. Please.
"Don't worry, Daddy's here."
Rubbing my stomach —
My eyes shoot open. I look down at my body.
One hand cupping my belly, he leans down to peck my navel.
My heart starts racing and adrenaline gushes through every vein I start panting. He looks at me.
His lips tug up at the corners and his face radiates in the dark room.
I swallow.
He crawls up and places himself beside me, bracing himself up with his elbow. Adrenaline surges through my veins so quick I feel dizzy like I might black out right here right now.
"Sorry for waking you up, babe," he whispers and tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. All I see is almost just white splotches in my vision. I grip onto the bed sheets for support.
But it doesn't help reminding me this is all real.
He rests himself on my breasts and begins circling my nipple with his thumb. His tongue darts out to lick it.
My nails dig into my palm.
His hand goes down to my tummy again, orbiting it as if a crystal ball to tell his future. Or our future.
A sigh of satisfaction escapes his lips as he stares down at my body. I don't even dare to look.
"You would look so sexy swollen with our baby."
It's hard to breathe I can't breathe I'm gasping for air I feel like I'm suffocating.
I jump to my feet and run to the bathroom. My stomach contracts so violently I don't get enough time to reach the toilet bowl. Vomit rips out of my gut as I fall to my knees and heave and heave all over the floor, purging the suppressed pain and disgust.
It comes to a point where I am left empty, clear liquid of water and bits of food the last of everything I have in me. I can feel my throat sore and angry, my whole body weak and limp. Stomach acid strikes my nostrils and immediately I retch again, only for my body to realise I have nothing to vomit anymore. I think my throat might start bleeding.
Then he knocks on the door. "Babe? You okay?"
I stop breathing.
"You're puking already? Fuck."
and at the hour of our death,
"You stay put, okay? I'm going to tell Mom and Dad," he says excitedly.
I hear his footsteps fade away.
My wet, dirty hand lifts to my mouth in a fist. I bite down hard onto my knuckles, vomit lingering over.
Then I scream.
Pure horror and hysteria torture my body, every sob a shred of my pain. Tears stream down my face and I taste the salt on my tongue. It's as if my soul wants to break lose out of my body, thrashing and writhing beneath my skin. I take in a deep breath and it gets caught and when I cough it feels like a needle prodding my throat.
My body crumples to the ground into the pool of my own vomit, the foul stench now familiar.
I hug my naked being, eyes fixated on the chunks of food in brown liquid. Every muscle has leaked out of energy and rejects all activity, but the last thing I want moving is my heartbeat, pulsating a throb in my whole head. I'm so tired. I close my eyes and let the cold winter air hug me to my quiet slumber.
Amen.