Chapter 7 #2
He’s listening. He hears me. He thinks for a minute before he murmurs hoarsely, “Okay. I get it. With what you’ve had to deal with, it makes sense you’d think that. But I’m not a violent man. I don’t have a quick temper.”
“I know you don’t. That’s why I was so surprised.”
“And I’m never going to hurt you, Teresa.” He holds my gaze with an earnestness that makes me shiver. “I promise you that.”
My breath hitches. I twist my hands together in front of me. Every promise that’s ever been made to me has been broken, but for some reason I believe Mason anyway.
He’s not going to hurt me.
“I mean it,” he goes on, evidently still unsure of whether I believe him. “You’re my wife. That means something to me. My job is to take care of you. I’m never going to hurt you.”
I nod. Break our gaze and stare at my hands, breathing unevenly. “Okay. Thank you. I do understand why you were worried, and I’m sorry I didn’t leave a note. But you said you wouldn’t be back until dinner, so I thought I’d be home before you. I’ll leave a note any time I’m gone from now on.”
“Thank you. I’d rather not go through that ordeal again.” He sighs and steps aside to gesture me into the cottage. “I got done sooner than I thought, so I came home.”
Both of us need to recover from the emotional intensity on the porch, so we’re quiet for the next hour as I prepare dinner and Mason sits on the porch steps and throws Bill his ball to fetch over and over again.
He has relaxed by the time we eat, and so have I. We both enjoy the steak, potatoes, and green beans, and he asks me about my day and what I found scavenging in a manner that’s friendlier than normal.
Encouraged by his interest, I chat more than usual too. I even make him laugh when I bring up my debacle with the bouncy balls in the village square and how Bill and the butcher’s dog thought all their doggy dreams had come true.
I got dirty while I scavenged, so I decide to bathe for real after we eat and I’ve cleaned up the kitchen. I give myself a good scrub and change into one of my nightgowns since I don’t want to put dirty clothes on my clean body.
I’m brushing my hair with the bathroom door open to let out the steam when Mason comes in from his evening chores.
He stands in the hall staring in at me.
He’s so motionless it makes me self-conscious. “Sorry,” I say. “I was really dirty from scavenging, and I don’t like to go to bed that way. I’ll be done in here in just a minute.”
He doesn’t reply. Doesn’t make a sound. Just stands there tensely and stares.
I shoot a few quick glances, trying to figure out what he’s thinking.
He’s definitely tense, but he’s not annoyed or angry. His eyes are moving all over my body in a way that’s almost hungry.
“Oh,” I say, my mouth making the same O as the sound I make.
He shifts his weight from one foot to the other and takes a loud, ragged breath.
“Do you need to get in here to… do that?”
“I didn’t,” he says thickly. “But now I do. Unless…”
“Unless what?” I set down my brush and walk out of the bathroom so I’m standing in front of him. I need to see him better to figure out what’s happening here.
My body is getting kind of tense and throbby too, the way it does when I want to rub myself.
“I heard you,” he mutters, that same gruff texture in his voice. “This morning.”
My cheeks burn but not in a bad way. In an excited away. “I’m sorry. I can be quieter.”
“I don’t want you to be quieter. But I didn’t know… I didn’t know you…” He rubs his face with both hands, clearly frustrated with himself for being unable to get the sentence out. “I didn’t know you wanted that.”
“Oh.”
“If you do, and since I do too, we can… we can… if you want.” It appears to have taken a massive effort for him to say this. He stares down at the floor when he’s done.
I shake internally and tighten my hands at my side as I process that thrilled whirling in my mind. “You want to have sex with me?”
His head shoots up. “Course I do. Why the hell do you think I gotta resort to my hand at least a couple of times a day.”
This makes me giggle. “I thought maybe it was just… general. Just the way you were. I didn’t know it was me you were… So you do want to have sex with me? Not just because we’re married but because of me?”
His breathing has picked up again. His brown eyes are hot and hungry. “Yes. I want to have sex with you. Because of you. Can’t seem to think of anything else lately, if you want to know the truth.”
“Oh.” That’s the third or fourth time I’ve said that, so I should really stop. “I want to have sex with you too.”
“Yeah?” He sucks in another hoarse breath. “Because of me?”
“Because of you.”
I see the admission process on his face. “Okay. Good. I gotta clean up before we do, but you can go to my bed if you want. Or we can do it later if you’d rather—”
“I’ll go to your bed and wait.” I’m smiling over my shoulder as I walk to his room.
Since I did laundry this morning, his bedding is all fresh and clean.
The bed is twice the size of mine, so there’s plenty of room for both of us in it.
I know he always sleeps on the right side because that’s where the sheets are always wrinkled and the pillow indented.
So I climb into the left side of the bed and lie down, getting both nervous and even more excited as I hear the water run in the bathroom.
It doesn’t take him long to get ready. He comes back into the bedroom wearing nothing but his underwear.
“Is that what you sleep in?” I ask him, genuinely curious.
“Usually. Unless it’s really cold outside.” He glances down at himself. “Do you not like it?”
“I do like it.” I should be self-conscious about admitting this, and maybe I am. But I’m also too jittery to stop myself. “I like how you look without clothes on.”
“You do?” He looks down at himself again like he’s surprised.
I more than like how he looks. It makes me all pulsey beneath my belly. His broad shoulders. Long arms and legs. The dips and curves of his muscles. The hair on his arms and legs and chest and a glimpse of more beneath his underwear.
Speaking of his underwear, there’s a noticeable bulge there.
That must be a penis.
I had no idea it was like that.
I have no idea about far too much. It never bothered me much before, but it has more and more lately.
An adult shouldn’t be so completely ignorant about the basics of life. How did I even get this way? It doesn’t seem right.
“Can I see you naked too?” he asks as he gets into bed beside me.
Nodding, I pull my gown off over my head. I’ve got nothing on except my little white panties beneath it.
“Fuck,” he breathes, sitting up and staring down at me. His eyes rake from my breasts to my belly to my groin, all down my legs, and then back up again.
“Do I look okay too?”
“Okay?” It sounds like he’s almost choking on the word. “You’re the prettiest thing I ever seen in my life.”
My face is hot—more from pleasure than anything else. I’ve never been beautiful, but I feel that way right now.
It’s cool in the room. My nipples have both tightened noticeably.
The bulge in his underwear is now even more pronounced than before. It’s so big beneath the fabric that I blink. “Is it supposed to do that?” I ask.
He sees where I’m staring, so he understands the question. “Yeah. That means it’s time for sex.”
“Oh. Nice to have a clear signal so you know when to do it.”
His laugh seems to surprise him. His body shudders with his amusement. “Is it okay if we take off our underwear?”
“Yeah. Let’s do that.”
With some shuffling, we both get totally naked. His groin isn’t anything like mine. His penis is a thick shaft that’s gotten so big extends from the dark body hair.
He’s staring between my legs as if he really likes what he sees.
“Have you done this before?” I ask him.
He shakes his head. “Never.”
“Neither have I.”
“I figured.”
“Did your parents explain how it works?”
“Yeah. They did. I mean, not a lot of details, but Dad did explain the basic mechanics. Yours didn’t?”
“No. Mother always acted embarrassed by it. And then it was just Lorraine and…”
“That’s okay. I think we can figure it out. And if we don’t do it exactly right, we can try again and get better. But I think it might hurt you a little. The first time. They said to be careful at first because it might hurt.”
“Why will it hurt?”
“Because it’s… tight. When I…” He gestures, clearly indicating that his big shaft is going to have to fit between my legs.
“I see. Well, if it’s supposed to be that way, I’m sure I can handle it.”
“Is it all right if I touch you first? It might make it easier for you. And I really want to.”
My lips part in surprise. “Of course you can touch me. What should I do?”
“You don’t have to do anything unless you want.”
Because his words free me of responsibility, I do indeed just lie there as he rearranges himself closer to me and reaches out to rub his fingertips down my neck and to my breasts. He’s staring down at them hungrily. He must really like how they look. It looks like he could swallow them down.
His hand feels good against my skin, and it feels even better when he starts twirling my tight nipples between his fingers.
I shift restlessly, surprised that the throbbing, achy sensation clenches hard between my legs.
“How is it?” he asks hoarsely.
“I like it.” I arch my back and toss my head from one side to another. “It feels good.”
“Good.”
He spends a long time on my breasts and then moves farther down my body, always slightly uncertain with each new touch until he sees that I like how it feels.
By the time he’s reached my hips, I can’t lie still. The throbbing has intensified to such an extent that I’m making little whimpers.
“You’re feeling good?” he asks, very softly.
“Yes. But I want to feel even better.” I arch all the way up off the bed and hang on to the sheets beneath me, needing to brace myself somehow. “Can you touch me… touch me in that spot… that…”