Chapter 23
Chapter Twenty-Three
H angman…
The delighted shriek and high-pitched giggle she let out when I started her to swinging did something to unburden my soul of a weight that I didn’t even know it carried. I stopped her, giggling and laughing, and walked on my knees to position myself behind her as she just laughed and laughed…
That laugh turned into a moan when I introduced my cock into her. I started at a slow and easy pace, getting her used to me, but she surprised me when she was the one to beg me, “Harder.”
I gripped the ropes at her hips and pulled her back onto me, and I didn’t spare her. She cried out, but it was a good sound, as I drove myself into her. Feral sounds of pleasure poured from her throat, drowned out by the roll of thunder overhead, as the lightning strobed outside the bedroom windows.
I lost myself in her, pulling her back onto me, thrusting forward with my hips to meet every backward pull on the ropes, our flesh slapping together the likes to put a porno to shame, but she was just eating it up. Desperate to have my dick go as deep as it could go and then some.
It was rough, it was primal, it was deep and fulfilling, and it was really fucking hard to hold off coming until I’d wrung another orgasm out of her.
She jerked in her bonds and shuddered, crying out and fuck , God, oh, yes! There it was and there would be no holding back. I spilled inside of her, thrusting deep, losing rhythm, and pulling her back onto me until she cried out in something a little less than pleasure and a little more toward pain.
I immediately backed off and pulled out, rushing to lower her down and get her out of her bonds, glad I’d done quick-release knots in every place that I could.
I rubbed life back into her limbs and told her to move slowly, to not rush things, and she was such a good girl, doing exactly as I told her when I told her to do it. So trusting and so sweet. I pulled her into my lap and held her close and she wrapped her arms around me and cuddled into my chest.
“Thank you,” she breathed into my ear and I pulled back.
“For what?” I asked softly as lightning flashed and lit up her face which had this wry little smile on it.
“For hurting me so good and taking such tender care of me afterward,” she said.
I cocked my head, her words somehow thrilling even as they were a little sad.
“I love you, Sweetpea,” I murmured, and pressed a kiss to her forehead.
She held onto me tight, and when I was sure I could do it, I got to my feet with her in my arms and moved us into the bed. She laughed and kissed me, and I kissed her back, checking her over in the soft candlelight, making sure that I hadn’t given her any rope burn or left any bruising.
Satisfied she was all good, I held her close, giving in to every silent plea and demand for kisses and touches; gladly.
I made love to her slow and sweet in the bed – which was honestly a first. We hadn’t made it to the bed the last couple of times, which was honestly alright by me, too.
I loved that my Sweetpea was a princess in the streets and a succubus in the sheets. One of the most amazing attributes that she had was her resilience – of which I felt that I was the only witness to it. I liked that. Sort of coveted it. I felt special to be the one to witness it.
She flowed around and over every obstacle in her path, soothing, gentle, resplendent like a waterfall. Water was a powerful element. It held patience, time, and transformation, and could blow things out of its path, or wear them down out of existence with its patience and time.
As she cuddled close to me in the candle lit dark, the storm raging outside, her body soft and warm against mine – I curled my arms around her protectively and felt so incredibly at ease. I’d never felt that with a woman in my bed before. Never felt so perfectly in synch and like we just meshed.
I carefully cultivated my calm, and I’d never had anyone compliment the level of quiet and peace that I strived for quite like Lorelai did.
It was awesome and a marvel and I never wanted to let go.
“What are you thinking?” she asked quietly after the latest clap of thunder shook the house and rolled off into the distance.
“That I love you,” I said honestly. “That I’ve never had anyone quite like you in my life, and I worry that I might somehow fuck it up, or be too much or whatever.”
She chuckled lightly at that and traced a soothing pattern on my chest with light fingertips that made me chuckle and pull back from the tickle of it.
“I thought I was the one who was supposed to be insecure,” she said wryly.
“Why?” I asked her, genuinely curious.
What followed was a surprisingly deep and frank conversation about trauma, the world we lived in, and how the justice system didn’t always work – especially where women were concerned.
I found that we exceedingly similar views on things, and it was both eye-opening and some real food for thought.
I hazarded a guess, and went out on a limb and asked her, “If it comes down to it, would you want to face him?” I asked softly.
“What, like in court?” she asked with a dubious laugh.
“Not what I’m asking, and I think you know it,” I said, tone slightly chiding.
She was silent, for a long time, and I could practically hear the gears in her head turning. Whirring and clicking away – and I was both glad she was really thinking it through and suddenly nervous all at the same time.
Had I misread her? Had I opened myself up?
“Yes,” she said finally. “I want him to suffer the way he made me suffer. I want him to feel helpless, and hurt, and have every last bit of his bodily autonomy stripped away and I want to watch and most of all, I want him to know that he was suffering precisely because of what he did to me. I want him to feel the weight of consequence – real consequence, upon his head and I want him to die for what he did. I want him to die knowing that he could never harm another person the way he harmed me and I honestly don’t think I would lose any sleep at night. Quite the opposite, actually… I think I would sleep better for knowing he wasn’t out there doing this to anyone else.”
God, that was fucking hot.
I held her a little tighter and kissed her forehead, comforting her as I knew that deep down, even though that is what she wanted on some deep and fundamental level – it was anathema to who she was to want these things so ardently.
I brought it up, and she gave a bitter laugh, a caustic thing that ate a little at my psyche just to hear it.
“I’m getting used to the cognitive dissonance,” she said dryly. “I seem to be experiencing it quite a bit lately.”
We talked about that, the discomfort over knowing two things that were seemingly total opposites of one another, and how they could exist in the same time and place.
By the end of the conversation, I felt as though I knew her better and also, without her meaning to, I felt that she understood me on a deeper level than even some of my brothers.
“Sleep,” I ordered her gently when she’d yawned practically three times back-to-back. “Let all of this go and let me carry it for you for a while.”
She looked up at me, and her smile was sweet.
“I don’t want or need you to carry this for me,” she said. “I’m just still adjusting to this new normal, that’s all… I’ll handle it with more grace eventually.”
“Baby, no judgment here,” I said. “None at all. You already handle everything that’s come your way with a certain amount of grace that’s unfathomable to most people. You’re doing amazing, even if you don’t feel like you are.”
“Thank you for saying so,” she whispered, and turned her lips up to mine for a kiss.
It was alright for now that she didn’t fully believe me.
Everything in good time, just like cultivating a garden.
I settled her against me and closed my eyes.
It was all too easy to fall asleep to the pulsing rain against the roof of the old house, the thunder rolling further and further distant.