9
Neither with you nor without you
I T was said that human ethics had been a victory over a ruthless, ungovernable, and cruel evolutionary process.
It was suggested that we developed morality to counter our base nature, far more than most were willing to admit.
It was better to believe oneself to be a soul filled with goodness rather than a nefarious one ready to envy the achievements of others.
I never denied my nature, my essence.
I never believed in the benevolence of my soul, because I had never been good. And the definition of goodness, the inclination to do good or virtuous behavior, did not fit my profile.
If I had to make a list of things I excelled at, I could enumerate selfishness, competitiveness, greed, lust, gluttony, and a craving for power, among many other virtues that the vast majority would deem deplorable flaws.
I didn't care that humanity spent its time hiding its shames under a veil of false modesty. They loved to fill their mouths with "I'm happy for your success," while their hearts roared "as long as they're not greater than mine." That, they kept to themselves, because it didn’t look good, it wasn’t considered nice.
They devoted themselves to living life disguised in a tailored suit, constructed of tiny mirrors designed to reflect what others expected them to be, not their true selves. Most people spent their time criticizing in others what was actually a reflection of themselves, because facing what one truly is requires bravery—a bravery that comes at a high cost, because it's better to appear as a juicy apple on the outside than to take a bite and reveal the worms within.
Michael Ghiselin said, "Scratch an altruist and watch a hypocrite bleed." I thought exactly the same. Hypocrisy was humanity's great virtue, of the noble and good souls.
Did they really think they were fooling anyone? Our brains are wired for power, pleasure, self-interest, pride, and survival. To feel good about oneself, and for this reason, it does everything necessary to improve and increase all these premises; even if that meant stepping on the necks of others.
I had accepted and internalized this so deeply that any other reality seemed like a crude lie.
We all had a Face A that we showed, and a Face B that lived on the opposite side, hidden from prying eyes. Deep down, there was the hope that it would never be revealed to others.
Until someone came along, stood in front of you with such truth and boldness that it made the edge of the coin wobble, without you being able to ensure it wouldn't fall on the wrong side.
I glanced at my husband, his steady breathing cradled my head. He rested peacefully, with tousled hair and the wrinkles of worry smoothing out on his face.
He held me so close to his side that I immediately thought of those chimpanzees that adopt an orphaned infant, with the same affection and effort as if it were their own.
Romeo was different from me. He had the capacity to love others above himself, above his own well-being or security, as he had done with Adriano and with me.
I was his extra effort. He had moved heaven and earth to get me back and did not hesitate to blow the balls off the guy who had me tied to a bed, ready to force himself on me.
He picked me up with such care, with such tenderness, that even drugged to the hilt, I could feel the moisture of his eyes on my cheeks. Was he crying for me? He did it silently, in the back seat of a car driven by his men, while he cradled me like a helpless being and repeated over and over that I should forgive him. His lament plunged me into a blind pit where, for the first time, I felt ashamed of myself. Because he had suffered through my kidnapping.
I was adrift in the middle of an unknown ocean. Without oars, in the dark, aimless, and with doubts. What was I supposed to do?
Two headlights emerged in front of me, on the horizon, at such opposite ends and with such opposing purposes that they stirred conflicting feelings.
What was the right decision?
I had no idea, that’s why for the first time I let myself be carried by the current, hoping it would take me in the right direction.
I caressed the figure of the goddess Kali, seeking a sign. I felt nausea, a product of the drug, that made me crawl out from the warmth of the male body before I vomited on him.
It would not have been a great awakening for my husband.
My body was shivering, I could barely walk straight, and my skin felt as if it was being stung by the air.
I doubled over as soon as I saw the toilet in front of my eyes. Just in time to lift the lid and unload.
"Hey, are you okay?"
Romeo’s caring hand reached my hair. My knees were on the cold tiles, I remained clinging to the porcelain, and my stomach was completely churning.
"Go away, you don’t need to see this," I protested.
"I've seen worse, and I want to be here. I told you I wasn't going to leave you."
"Remind me of that when I schedule a laser hair removal and they lie you down next to me to zap your balls." Romeo made a face of disgust.
"I offer to hold your hand if you want. I’d rather not fry our future offspring." Another wave of nausea hit, and I unloaded again.
"Get out! I'm serious, Romeo."
"I'll start filling the tub and ask Ana María to prepare some herbs to settle your stomach. You'll see, you'll feel better."
I waved him away to fend off a third round of vomiting. Damn opium! I was wrecked. I vowed never to touch it again, even if Yuri begged me.
I managed to stand up with considerable effort. I looked at my reflection. I had never looked worse. My skin was sallow and I had deep bags under my eyes framing the green of my gaze.
I brushed my teeth and tongue. I needed to get rid of the taste of bile. I brushed my hair in a vain attempt to look better for my husband, because this time, I wasn’t grooming for myself, but for him.
Romeo came back with the promised infusion and made me drink it all, even though it tasted awful. I never liked herbal teas, and this one tasted like monkey butt.
"You could have thrown in some bourbon or rum, it feels like I'm drinking a damn manure field," I complained.
"Your stomach needs to cleanse, and Ana María is an expert at managing these infusions. If it tastes like manure, it’s because it's supposed to taste like manure, don't be whiny, amore ."
"Why don’t you drink it then, smarty?"
"Because it's you who needs to flush out the toxins from the drug they gave you. Trust me and finish it." I took the last sip, and Romeo set the cup aside.
"Good girl," he praised.
He took off his sweatpants to be as naked as I was.
"What are you doing?" I asked, puzzled. Not that I minded seeing him naked, but I was too confused to start anything.
His splendid body made me admire him greedily.
"Helping you with the bath." My mouth was dry and my stomach tightened. My husband was too attractive for me not to want him, even feeling unwell.
"I don’t think I can have sex," I admitted. I had missed our intimacy so much, too much. And I was scared that sex would make me lose my bearings even more.
"I wasn’t planning on that." His face told me he wasn’t lying, and his lack of an erection did too. Was it possible he no longer found me attractive? The mere idea irritated me. "Come on, let me take care of you." He took my hand and squeezed it in a meaningful embrace, which led to a small kiss in the area of my neck where my pulse raced.
In an instant, I was lifted in his arms and gently placed in the bathtub with astonishing agility. The temperature was perfect. The water was tinted a beautiful shade of violet. I inhaled the calming scent of lavender submerged in the warmth of the water.
After a gentle splash, my husband positioned himself behind me, insisting that I lean back against his body.
He hugged me and traced the side of my neck with his nose.
"I'm sorry for not being there, forgive me, amore ." His apologies caught me off guard.
"Not being there?"
"You were kidnapped because of me, I wasn't cautious enough and you paid the price." It hurt me to hear him talk like that.
"That's not true. Those people knew what they were doing. They would have managed one way or another. You can't blame yourself for that."
"That’s easy to say," he murmured, gently kissing my neck. The skin on my arms prickled.
"You have to. I don't blame you, don't blame yourself." I caressed his cheek, which bore a slightly thicker beard than usual. It was clear he had neglected it over the week.
If I had looked closer earlier, I would have noticed he looked more worn and bore signs of all the worry he had been carrying.
"Relax," he urged. I hadn't even realized his words had tensed me up. "We'll talk more about what happened later. Right now, I just want you to feel good."
He took the sponge and gently squeezed it over my head. Streams of water moistened my hair. A sigh of pleasure escaped my lips when he filled it with the same soap he had poured into the bath and worked up a lather.
"God, you're beautiful," he murmured, lathering my skin. My eyes closed, allowing me to luxuriate in each caress. "Absolutely perfect," he whispered, reaching the breasts that emerged above the water. "I thought I was going crazy in your absence."
"And here I was thinking it was my presence that drove you mad..." I teased.
"Those are two different kinds of madness," he admitted, immersed in his attentions.
"What do you mean?"
"Well, when you're by my side, I'm breathless. It might sound cliché, but I didn't feel the same with others as I do with you."
His response pleased me far more than I was willing to admit. I tilted my head back and arched my back to give him a broader view of what his touch was eliciting in me.
My breasts were firm, and my nipples demanded his attention. His masculine hand descended, invited by mine, towards the split of my thighs, which parted in search of an immersion between them.
"And when I'm not around, what happens?" I asked expectantly.
"Then I'm missing life." The sponge reached my groin, and I gasped. I raised my right arm and searched for his nape. I clung to it while I washed myself with my left hand, synchronizing the movement. I trembled, eager for him never to stop. For my senses to be dulled enough to drown them in desire and lavender. "You drive me absolutely crazy, Nikita. You have no idea what went through my head when I saw you lying there. I can't stop thinking about what would have happened if I had arrived a minute later. I..." his voice was cut off by mine.
"Shhh," I silenced him, "what matters is that you arrived. Like you said earlier, let's leave that topic for later. I'm here, now, with you, that's all that matters." I didn't like seeing how troubled he was. Knowing his state was the result of something neither he nor I had planned was maddening. What had Romeo done to deserve this except being born into the wrong family?
My mind was playing tricks on me. I couldn't think like that. I couldn't, damn it!
"Kiss me," I demanded. His gaze was still distant, but his face lowered and captured my lips with a sweetness I didn't feel I deserved.
I snatched the sponge from his hand and urged him to touch me with his fingers.
"Honey, you don't need to. I just wanted to take care of you."
"And you are," I murmured against his mouth. I wanted to forget everything that was happening, and the only formula that had ever worked was making love with Romeo. When I was intimate with him, everything else vanished. "Keep touching me, don't stop. I need you like this." I pushed his fingers deeper and sighed. "Show me how much you've missed me and kiss me the way you need to, not as if I were thirteen."
He did, igniting me like a match that turned into a bonfire.
I moaned unrestrained, deepening the kiss that twined our tongues. While his fingers penetrated me and his erection pressed into the roundness of my backside.
There was no worse drug than what Romeo triggered in my body, capable of sweeping away the side effects of the opium, making me an addict to his skin, his kisses, his touch.
I turned around, his fingers weren’t enough. I had to feel him completely. The water threatened to spill over with the abruptness of my movement. I didn’t care. Fortunately, the bathtub was large enough to accommodate both of us.
I straddled his legs and guided him inside me. He groaned loudly, and I grabbed his face to kiss him fiercely.
The water slowed my movements, diminishing the violence I needed to slam against his pelvic floor. Yet, it hardly mattered. My husband turned me on so much that, after three bounces against his thighs, with those sin-colored dark eyes, I exploded uncontrollably.
Romeo rose, lifting me with him still impaled. Anyone else might have cracked their head getting out of the tub like that. Not him. There was no slip, just his mouth feeding on mine in an extreme need to devour my orgasm.
He laid me back on the mattress, the rhythmic swaying of his hips driving me wild.
I couldn't breathe smoothly. I was burning all the oxygen in the room.
"You are a fucking goddess to be worshiped." His compliments touched me deeply. I couldn't stop watching the reflection of my own face, twisted in pleasure, in his dark pupils. "Tell me you missed me too. Tell me I'm not the only one who feels this is getting out of hand. Tell me you feel the same madness for me," he urged, plunging deep inside. "Damn, Nikita, I think I—" I didn't let him finish. I couldn't. I wasn't ready to hear that confession.
I pushed his neck down to kiss him fiercely, desperately. His words whipped through me like the wind against the sails of a sailboat, altering the course of my wildly fluctuating thoughts.
I bit my lower lip in this delirious dive of sex and confessions. Romeo insisted.
"Nikita..."
"You're not the only one."
That was all I could say with complete honesty. His smile nearly shattered me, far more than his final thrust that left me breathless. Rough, visceral, fiery, as solid and firm as he was.
"Come with me, amore , I want us to finish together and for you to see what I feel every time I'm with you. Don't close your eyes, look for the truth hidden deep inside me," he ordered huskily.
I didn't close them, I couldn't tear them away, even though I was frightened of what I might see. That intense brown, full of determination, was too hypnotic.
I caressed his back, grasped his buttocks with my hands, and squeezed.
I bit his mouth, brushed my chest against his, and lost myself in the rhythm, ready to dive into his revelations. He didn’t need to warn me he was about to come because I knew we would reach it together, just as I was aware that the abyss beneath my feet was growing wider.
He tensed. I tensed. He shouted. I howled.
And our reflections danced to the tune of our breaths, unable to contain what I feared the most, that I was also falling in love with him, much as I didn't want to.