Chapter 18 First Day of Forever #2
"I don't know," she whispers. "I don't know.
I carried him and I gave birth to him, but…
that part of my life seems like a dream…
a nightmare, honestly, sort of fuzzy and half-remembered, mainly because I want to forget it.
I don't want to remember. I…I don't feel like his mother.
I don't…I don't know how to be a mother.
I don't remember my own since she died when I was so young.
What do I know about children, Lorenzo?"
I brush her cheek with the backs of my fingers. "Sophia, darling…I don't think anyone knows anything about raising kids. Everyone is just sort of doing their best and making it up as they go along."
She frowns at me. "That sounds sort of cynical."
I laugh. "It's not! It's hopeful. There's no handbook out there that everyone got except you, Soph.
Maybe someone who's raised a bunch of kids already will have some knowledge or advice, but…
does it apply evenly to everyone? I don't know—-I don't think so. We’re all different.
How someone parents a child is subjective.
" I rest my forehead against hers. "And I'm not telling you that you should move him in here and have him start calling you Mom.
I don't know what you should do about Reninho.
I just mean that you are his mother, and you do have love to give.
It can look however you, or we, want it to look. It doesn't have to be traditional."
She shakes her head. “No, no, no." Rolling away from me, Sophia leaves the bed and goes to the window, breathing in slowly, holding it, and letting out slowly through pursed lips—box breathing, to counteract panic.
"It's too much, Ren. Too much too soon. It hasn't even sunk in that Rafael is really dead.
That…that it's really over, that I'm really free of that monster.
" She scrubs her face with one hand, shakes her head again.
"I'm really, truly, finally free to make my life look however I want.
For the first time in my life, I can choose my own future. "
I leave the bed and move behind her, frame her with my arms. "Sophia, I only—"
"I know, Ren," she interrupts. "I know what you meant.
But you have to understand—as a child, my father determined who I was.
I was allowed no input over any aspect of my life.
What I wore, who my friends were, where I went, whether or not I went to school, what I ate, the color of the walls in my room, the cut of my hair—Bruno de Silva decided everything about me.
And then Rafael—as his wife, I had some leeway, of course, but at the end of the day I lived in his world.
Everyone around me was employed by him and was loyal to him.
I was, at best, considered first among equals with the rest of the estate staff.
My every movement was watched and reported to him.
" She clings to my bicep, rests her cheek against it.
"Even after I escaped, he still controlled my life to a degree.
He was waiting and watching for me to show myself.
He never forgot. Never forgave. Never let go.
Never stopped looking for me. For Reninho.
I couldn't choose my life. I was hostage to him even though I wasn't physically his captive or wife.
It is only now that he's dead that I can even really let myself think about…
who I am or what I want." She turns in my arms, presses her back to the glass and looks up at me.
"I barely know who the fuck I am, Lorenzo.
How can I think I could take care of you, be your wife, be Reninho's mother? "
I kiss her temple. “Take care of me? Soph, I? I don't need you to take care of me. I am going to take care of you.”
"But Ren, you're missing the point. I want to. I just…I'm not sure I know how." She looks up at me. "I actually feel kind of…adrift. I've spent so long being controlled and afraid and hiding that I don't know who I am."
I pull her against my chest and hug her close. "You have all the time in the world. I am sorry if I overwhelmed you. I just…I suppose I want you to be excited about the future with me, that's all."
She sniffles, sighs. "I will be, Ren. I think I just need some time. There's a lot to process." A long silence. "I would have, back then, you know."
"Would have what, back then?"
"Married you."
"I wonder what our lives would have been, if we had been able to stay together all this time?"
She shakes her head and shrugs. "Who knows?
We probably would have been very poor, and we would never have left Brazil.
" She pulls away enough to look up at me.
"I do want to be with you. I want to marry you.
I am excited about our future together, Lorenzo.
I just need time. And, really, I can't marry you until Jakob is back.
I owe him so much, and he deserves to be there. "
"Of course. I mean, I would marry you right now. Go downtown and have one of those Elvises marry us. Come back here and have a grand party with our friends."
"Family," she corrects.
"Right, yes, family." I kiss the top of her head. "But you are right—Jakob brought us all together. When we marry, he must be there."
She smiles up at me. "You don't mind waiting?"
"Of course not. I have waited for you for years. I have you. That is enough. We can say vows and exchange rings at any time—my love for you and commitment to you will not be changed or lessened."
She rests her head on me again. "I love you so much, Lorenzo Oliveira Araujo."
"And I you, Sophia Bruna Santos de Silva, more than I can ever say."
"Could we…" she hesitates. "Lay down again? I think I would like to try to take a nap."
I laugh, scoop her up in my arms, and carry her to bed. "You're the boss-lady."
"Not of you."
I settle us in her bed and cover us with the blankets. "You're welcome to boss me around anytime, my love."
She giggles—actually giggles. "I might just try that out, sometime."
We drowse together, then. I'm not sure either of us actually falls asleep, but we enter a kind of twilight, neither fully awake nor fully asleep.
I rouse slowly and then all at once. Slowly at first, because I must have been more asleep than I thought; all at once because as soon as I become aware of being awake, I become aware of a certain sensation.
I look down my body, blinking against the crimson-orange glow of late evening desert sunlight bathing the room. the blankets are twisted at the foot of the bed, and Sophia is laying on my stomach, softly caressing my cock. Petting it, really.
"Mmm," I mumble, "hello there."
"Sssshhhh." She doesn't look at me. "Don't move. Don't talk. Just…be still and be quiet."
"As you wish, my love."
"This is for me," she murmurs, "although I have a feeling you'll enjoy it."
I know what she's about. "Soph, my love, all I will say is that you have nothing to prove—certainly not to me, and especially not about what I think you're about to do.
If some part of sex triggers bad feelings or memories for you, we don't need to do those things.
But if it's important to you to reclaim what was taken, then I will gladly help you reclaim it, however that must happen. "
She doesn’t reply for a while, though I know she heard me. "I did it to you earlier, during sex, and I liked it. I really did. I liked how you responded. I liked knowing I could give you that. And I want to be able to give it to you."
"I don't need it, Sophia. I enjoy it, obviously, but there is no reason for you to intentionally trigger yourself. Making love with you is all I need. You are enough, exactly as you are."
She has me fully erect, now, and grips my cock loosely in her fist, slowly caressing my length.
"I'm not sure how else to say this, Ren.
" She hesitates. “It's not entirely even about you, exactly.
He took things from me. Fear and memories of what he did and made me do have kept me as much a prisoner to his control even after I was out of his direct control.
I am determined that he will not have any control over any part of my life or our relationship.
He is dead, and so his influence over me will die with him. "
"As long as you understand—" I start.
"I do, Ren, I really do. And I appreciate your understanding and compassion more than I can say.
" She pauses, rolling her thumb over the tip of my cock, smearing the pre-cum leaking out of me.
"But now what I need from you is for you to shut up and let me suck your cock.
" My cock twitches as her words send arousal blasting through me. "I see he approves of this plan."
“He's a selfish little bastard, so yes."
"Excuse me, Ren. There is nothing little about him."
"I stand corrected OHGOD…holy shit, Sophia!" Her mouth suctions around the head while her soft, small hands pump my length. "Jesus fuck that feels incredible."
I hold absolutely still, fisting my hands in the sheet at my sides rather than risk upsetting her by grabbing her head.
She releases my cock with a loud, sucking pop, watching as she caresses my shaft a few times, and then covers me with her mouth again.
This time, she goes slow, sliding her lips down my length inch by inch, tongue swirling and sliding.
I groan, arching my back as she backs away, only to plunge her mouth down again, further this time, taking more of me.
Her thick black hair slips with her movement, drifting across her cheek. She brushes it away, and then fumbles blindly—finding one of my hands, she brings it to her head.
"Just…don't push," she whispers.
I gather her hair in my hands, bunch it up and out of the way and hold on—I can grip the slippery mass of black locks as tightly as I want.
She takes her time. I fight the urge to thrust, gasping and groaning as she pleasures me with her mouth, stroking my length and caressing and kneading my balls, never taking very much of me in her mouth before backing away again.
Long, glorious minutes later, I feel my climax rising, feel desperation filling my veins, replacing blood with the boiling lava of need.
"Fucking god, Soph," I groan. "I'm close."
"Mmmm," she hums, pulling away and letting me drop out of her mouth. "Come for me, love. Don’t hold back."
And then her mouth is on me once more, sliding down my length—more and more, deeper and deeper. I hear her swallow hard, gasp for breath, and then she's taking even more of me and she gags a little, backs away, mouth open and gasping.
"Jesus, meu amor," I murmur.
Another long, slow, wet slide of her mouth down my shaft, lips stuttering, tongue swirling and licking and fluttering. A helpless groan leaves me, and I arch again, crush-gripping her hair as my climax boils through me.
"Oh fuck," I snarl, desperately resisting the urge to push her lower, "Sophia, fuck, fuck. So good, my love. I—I can't—oh god, I—I'm…ohhhhhhfuck I'm coming!"
She hums a breathy, pleased, shocked sound as I unleash my orgasm, and then she's gulping audibly, sucking hard as she slides her mouth down my length and takes as much of me as she can.
Stars dance and burst in my vision and my entire body tenses and trembles as lightning shatters me, pulsating heat billows through me.
I can't produce a single sound as my orgasm wrenches me and ravages me, and still Sophia doesn't relent.
She sucks and slurps and bobs, and my feet scrabble at the bed as I come and come. Pulling away so I pop out of her mouth, she gasps raggedly, panting, gulping. I let go of her hair and smooth it away, pulling her up to me.
She has other plans.
She takes me in her mouth yet again, palming my balls in both hands, and swallows her way down my length, sucking hard enough to rip the breath from my lungs, forcing me into an arching, gasping, paroxysm of ecstasy, drawing the last dregs of my orgasm out of me, leaving me boneless and breathless.
And then she brings her head up to rest on my chest.
I'm incapable of speech for a long time. "Soph," I whisper, when I can form words again. "You—that was—holy mother of god, Sophia."
She giggles again, and the innocent, pleased joy in the sound brightens my soul. "It was okay, then?"
"Okay?" I laugh in disbelief. "I don't have words for how incredible that was." I palm her cheek and kiss her, tasting myself on her breath. "And you…how are you…are you okay?"
She nods. "More than okay. I liked doing that for you. I liked how you responded. It makes me feel…I don't know. It's hard to put into words. But I'm good. Very, very good." She yawns. "Although I don't know that I have the motivation to move my things downstairs, anymore."
"I must admit, Sophia, it would be pretty nice to have this place to ourselves. Privacy. Space. It would be nice. But I will go with whatever you decide. I understand your reasons for the move."
"I worry I would feel…self-conscious," she murmurs. "About being…loud. If we were down there.”
"I do like making you scream," I say.
"Ren," she scolds.
"What? I do! I love making you scream. Especially when it's my name you're screaming." I roll her to her back and kiss my way down her body. "Just…like…this."
I spend the next thirty minutes with my face buried between her thighs, doing just that—making her scream my name again and again.
Only after a long shower do we finally leave the room and head down to see what the others are up to.