Chapter 48
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
JENSEN
It’s evening. The kids are asleep. All the doors are locked, including our bedroom. I’m in the chair by the window. She’s on her knees on the bare floorboards. Her beautiful hair is pulled high, tumbling down to her waist. Her eyes are wrapped in white cloth and her arms are bound behind her back.
Her nipples are hard, pinched red beneath silver clamps. A thin silver strand connects them to the clip on her clit.
She hurts, but she’s such a good girl. Despite the unforgiving grains of rice pressing into her knees and shins, she hasn’t moved.
I glance up at the clock hanging over the bed. The face of it is plain white. It’s been ten minutes—that’s long enough. I don’t want her getting fatigued.
Slowly, I move to crouch before her. Her lip quivers. She senses my closeness, but she keeps still. I’m so hard from denial, from looking at her naked and tortured.
I dip my fingers between her legs, playing with the clip before sliding them to her cunt.
Soaked.
Her gasp sends a shiver down my spine as I trace her sex.
That turns into a whimper when I slip two fingers inside and find the soft ridge of the spot that drives her wild.
Starting slow, I tap and rub with growing intensity.
Her teeth dig at her lower lip. Gently, I stroke, easing down.
Her thighs are tight, forcing her shins harder into the rice, getting her so wet, it drips down my knuckles.
“You want to come for me, baby?” I murmur.
“Yes,” she gasps. “Please.”
“Don’t move.”
She nods, sinking back onto her heels as I pull my fingers out and stand.
From the end of the bed, I grab a cloth acupressure mat about the size of my upper back.
It’s perfect for when I want to lay it out and have her kneel on the little spikes all over the inside, but it also fits between her legs for when I want to use it.
I unfurl it, sliding it between her knees. Then, I pull her blindfold off. Big, dark eyes flutter open and fix on me, hazy with desire. I start unbuttoning my shirt.
“God,” she moans.
I let it drop on the chair behind me. “What?”
She shakes her head. I turn and lay myself down on my back, spikes digging into the skin over my shoulders.
Pain sets everything on edge and lights up all my nerve endings.
My cock throbs, tight behind my zipper. Delirious for her, I press my head between her thighs, forcing her to back to kneel over my face.
“You just…you’re so pretty,” she breathes.
When she says that, I know what she means now.
“I’ll be prettier with you squirting on my face, baby,” I say.
She moans, head falling to the side. Her thighs lower until she’s an inch over my mouth. We’ve done this before, and we both know what I want. I kiss her thigh then bare my teeth and sink them into the soft skin. She writhes, spine twisting, body shaking with effort to hold steady.
“You are a needy little bitch,” I tell her, sliding my hand around her thigh to her ass.
“Oh God,” she bursts out. “I need to come.”
Pain is a hot throb down my spine. The heels of my boots grit in dry rice. Her cunt is so close, I can almost taste it, hovering an inch from my lips. I wet my fingers and slide them in, parting her pussy, dipping into her tight, hot wetness. Her hips pulse, pulling me deep.
“I’m going to fingerfuck you,” I say. “And you’re going to come on my face. Understood?”
“Yes,” she gasps, shivering.
I go hard on that spot inside her cunt, and she shakes so hard, it takes only a few seconds before I have to hold her up with one hand. Little whines slip out from between her teeth.
Give it to me.
Her spine curls. She’s so goddamn tight around my fingers. I’m stroking, coaxing hard. I see it, even in the dim light, the way her cunt tightens.
Take me. Wash me away.
Her spine locks. My eyes close, and I feel it flood over me, hot and tasting of my wife on my tongue. It hits my face, my mustache, spattering over my face and neck, soaking the rice around my head.
She sinks down onto my face, pushing me hard into the rice and spikes beneath my back. Pain grounds me, keeping me from going over the edge most of the time, but tonight, it’s too much.
Pleasure runs in a wave through my body, and there’s a harsh accumulation of it behind my zipper. A flood, a dam breaking.
“Oh God,” she whimpers. “Untie me.”
Face still in her cunt, I undo her binds.
Her nails scrabble at my belt, tearing my pants open.
Her hot tongue runs over me, cleaning my cum from my cock.
She’s the most beautiful woman in the world, and sometimes, I can’t hold back, but that’s never mattered to her.
She takes all of me, fuck-ups and everything.
Her pussy pulses on my lips as she pushes my cock to the back of her throat, loving me the way I need.
There was never anything sick, nothing twisted, in me to begin with. Della made me understand that. Here in our bedroom, she indulges my fantasies, and I hold the space for hers, every single one. Even the ones she’s embarrassed to say aloud.
In this place, we’ve both finally let go of the past.
It will always exist, but it doesn’t control us anymore.
I pull myself from between her thighs with difficulty.
My skin burns as I peel it off the mat. Despite having just come, I need to be inside her, to look in her eyes, to feel her in my arms. I lift her, carrying her to the bed.
We tumble back against the headboard, both shoving off the last bits of clothing as we go.
I push her thighs open with my knee and sink into her pussy.
“Yes,” she breathes, lids flickering.
My hand grips the nape of her neck, steadying her body so I can fuck her. Her nipples are twisted, hot and red. I know her clit aches—I feel how she’s gripping me against the pain.
“Come for me, baby,” I urge. “Come on my cock.”
I unclip her clit, and she cries out at the release. My fingers stroke over it, slick and swollen, teasing it the way she likes. She’s so wet, and the sound has me rock hard.
“Hit me, baby,” I pant.
She hesitates. She always does. I grip her throat, rutting my hips. The look in my eyes cows her, forcing her to obey. From the corner of my eye, her hand blurs. The pain explodes, and I’m rock hard, right on the edge.
Our mouths are so close.
“Blood, baby,” I breathe out. “I want to taste blood.”
This time, the pain is white hot, the aftermath bloody metal on my tongue as my lip splits just enough to give me what I need. Fuck, that’s better than good.
My cock pushes so deep in her, I feel resistance. Her throat bobs beneath my grip. Our gazes lock, and she looks me deep in the eyes as I come inside her.
“That’s right, baby,” I grit out. “Take it all. Take all of me.”
She kisses me, mouth open, her hips riding up, legs locked around me until I’m done. When I pull back and out of her, I notice a smear of crimson on her chin. Cradling her face, I wipe it away with my thumb.
“Fuck,” she says, shivering as she stretches and flexes her legs.
“Hey, lay on my chest,” I say.
She crawls into my arms. Her comedown is rough sometimes, but she enjoys it so long as I’m there to help her through. She lays her head on my shoulder, her face against my neck.
“I love you,” I murmur, stroking her hair.
“God, I fucking love you,” she whispers back.
We don’t move for a while. Then, I put her in the shower and get the room back in order. When everything is clean, I join her, and she washes me, paying careful attention to my split lip. She’s always worrying about me when there’s blood, but it never bothers me much.
We fall asleep not long after our bodies touch the bed.
Both exhausted, both safe.
The morning comes too fast, as it always does on the ranch. I extract myself from my wife’s embrace and get up. In the nursery, Delia is already chattering. I get dressed in my work clothes—I’ve got a long list of chores this morning. Then, I move noiselessly down the hall into the nursery.
My daughter is in her crib, waving her arms and legs. She swivels, looking at me through the bars.
“Morning,” I say.
She gurgles, smiling as I lift her, easing her onto my shoulder.
For a moment, I close my eyes and just hold her close, breathing in her baby shampoo scent.
Time already feels like it’s slipping through my fingers.
Someday, she’ll be grown, along with her brother, and I’ll be watching them from afar.
But for now, she’s so small, she fits in my hands, and I soak in the time when I can keep her safe.
Della rolls over, blinking sleepily as I bring Delia to nurse. She pushes the blankets aside, making room. I lay our daughter down and press a kiss to my wife’s temple.
“I’m going to do the chores,” I say. “I’ll be right back.”
“No hurry,” she says. “I’ll start breakfast when she’s done.”
There’s never been a time when I have the right words to tell her what the family she gave me means. So, I just brush my fingertips through hers, and she understands.
Out on the porch, I’m surprised to find Landis already awake. He’s crouched on the stoop, my hat on his lap.
“You’re up early,” I say.
He looks up, squinting. “I wanted to feed the horses.”
“Let’s go then.”
He smiles, handing me my hat. We cross the yard where I once laid with Della, long before I knew what the future held. The barn is still cool. The horses line the stalls, throwing their heads, waiting for breakfast. I gather the buckets and help Landis measure the right amount of feed.
“Can I ask you a question?” He stops after the last bucket and puts his hands on his hips.
“Sure,” I say, hoping this isn’t one of those awkward parenting moments.
He hesitates, face screwed up in concentration.
“Penny for your thoughts?” I say lightly.
“Can I call you my dad?” he asks, not looking at me.
Well, damn, that one hurts. I knew it was coming eventually, but it’s like getting kicked in the chest, like tripping and falling all the way down to a place I don’t want to leave.
I clear my throat and try to answer, but nothing comes out.
He’s staring up at me, nervous. Finally, I take my hat off and put it on his head.
“Yeah,” I say. “Reckon you can.”
He smiles. “Really?”
“Yep. You can keep the hat. It’ll fit you someday.”
He’s smiling as he reaches for a bucket.
We don’t talk while we fill up the feed bins.
That’s how I know he’s serious, when he’s used up all his words.
Pretty soon, the barn is filled with the sounds of horses chewing.
I pile up the buckets for tomorrow as he stands in the far end of the barn, staring up at the mountains in the distance.
“What’re you thinking?” I ask, coming up beside him.
“I was thinking about the truck,” he says.
“Yeah? What about it?”
He squints up at me. “How long will it take to fix?”
Truthfully, I could get it done in a few weeks on my own, but I think I’ll take my time with it.
“Maybe a few years,” I say.
“Years?” His jaw drops.
“Well, you can’t drive until you’re older anyway. What’s it matter?”
He thinks that through and nods slowly. “I guess that’s okay.”
“It’s a real old truck. It was mine when I was a teenager,” I say. “It needs a lot of work.”
He nods. From the front porch, we both catch the faint sound of Della calling for us. Without speaking, we head back through the barn and up the driveway to the porch. She’s standing on the top step, Delia in her arms.
“Y’all coming?” she calls. “Breakfast is gonna be ice cold.”
Landis scrambles up the stairs. She tilts his chin up, checking if his face is dirty.
“You wash your hands,” she says. “Where’d you get that hat?”
“It’s Dad’s hat,” he says, ducking around her and disappearing inside.
Della freezes. “What did he say?”
I shrug, but really, I’m taking that extra second to compose myself. “He asked if he could call me his dad this morning, and I said yes. That alright by you, baby?”
She swallows, eyes wide. I touch her cheek. “You okay?” I press.
She nods, sniffing. “Yeah, I just…I hoped he’d ask you that.”
I bend to kiss her forehead. When I pull back, Delia makes a vicious grab for my mustache. I catch her tiny hand, letting her grip the tip of my finger instead. Della is smiling like she’ll never stop, her lashes wet.
“Things change for the better,” she says. “I guess we just had to wait.”
“We worked for it too,” I say.
She nods, her face sobering. There’s a breath on the wind that smells like summer flowers and field grass. For a second, it feels like being back where I grew up, but without all the hurt. She notices it too. I see the distance in her eyes as she looks out towards the mountains.
“Do you think about them sometimes?” she whispers.
“Who?”
“Kayleigh and Brothers.”
“Kayleigh is living high, probably somewhere glamorous,” I say. “I don’t think about it because I know she’s doing just fine.”
“And Brothers?”
“Brothers Boyd is like a cat,” I say. “He’ll always land on his feet.”
She nods, like she’s ready to move on. I hold the door for her, guiding her into the hallway with our daughter in her arms. Before I step inside, I pause in the doorway and look out over my ranch.
I got everything I wanted in the end. Now, when I think of home, it's just bittersweetness on my tongue. For the hills, for the people who made me, for better and for worse.
Those feelings of bittersweetness come, but they go, and I’m left knowing only one thing for certain.
I am home.
THE END