Chapter 14 #3
A nod. "And a version of that pretty much every day.
It's, like, the unofficial school uniform these days.
It irks me, personally. When I was in high school, you worked hard to look fashionable.
You had to wear the right brands, the latest styles, all of that.
At the risk of sounding like a grandmother, the kids these days dress like every day is a slumber party.
I just don't get it. But…I don't have to.
It doesn't hurt anything, so it's not worth the fight trying to make her change.
But the fact that she's changing to go see a movie with her friends when a boy she likes is coming? That's a big deal."
A horn honks from the driveway, and Mallory thunders down the stairs, grabbing a small crossbody bag from the counter by the short hallway to the garage. She’s wearing fitted blue jeans, a cream sweater with a deep dip in front, and ankle boots.
She grabs a thick red Canada Goose parka from the back door and pauses to kiss Morgan on the cheek while shrugging into it. "I'll be back by one, I'll check in after the movie, and I'll behave myself."
"Have fun!" Morgan calls as Mallory heads out the door. She turns on me once the door has closed. "I'm sorry for her inappropriate—"
“Don't be," I interrupt.
She shakes her head. "She's way too much like me, sometimes. All attitude, no filter."
"You say that like it's a bad thing."
She doesn't answer as she collects the empty clamshells and tosses them in the trash. Washes her hands. Wipes down the counters. Washes her hands again.
"Morgan."
Drying her hands for the second time, she turns to glance at me. "Hmmm?"
"You're putzing."
She frowns, opening a small drawer and dabbing lotion onto her hands. "I'm sorry, I’m what?"
"Putzing. Doing random shit either because you're thinking about something or because you have nervous energy."
Not looking at me, she goes to a stack of mail and straightens it. "I am not."
I move behind her, grab her hands. "You are. It's adorable. But I have other uses for these hands."
She leans back against me. "Noah…"
I guide her hands back and up overhead, and she slides her fingers into my hair, turns her mouth to mine. I kiss her, softly, slowly, gently. "Hi."
She smiles, mouth brushing mine. "Hi there." She spins in place and I lift her to sit on the counter. She hooks me with her heels and pulls me into the V of her thighs. She's dressed cozy—thick, fleece-lined leggings, thick wool socks, a long-sleeve tee, and a knit wool cardigan.
"Noah, there's something I think we need to discuss."
"Uh-oh," I say, caressing her thighs. "Not loving the sound of that."
She shakes her head, toying with a button of my 3-button, long-sleeve Henley. "No, it's nothing like that. It's…I…" she trails off, sighing. “It's about what happened at your house."
I grin. "Which part?" I speak again before she can. "Kidding. Talk to me, honey."
She looks away, then back to me. "I have issues with…that."
"Can you be more specific?"
"Noah, c'mon. You know what I mean."
"Yes, I do." I lock eyes with her. "But I don't find it anything to be embarrassed about, Morgan. We can discuss it in plain terms like grownups, right?"
She slides off the counter and strides away from me, raking her fingers through her hair. “It's hard to talk about, Noah."
"So let me start." I follow her into the living room; she's pacing anxiously, not looking at me. I let her pace, knowing she's listening. "I wanted to go down on you, and you obviously have a hang-up about it. I'd like to understand why."
She faces the fireplace—wood-burning, empty, and clean, never used. Her shoulders slump. "I have a major hangup, Noah. And it comes from my ex-husband. Shocker, I know." A pause. "That was never his favorite thing to do. He…" she shakes her head. “God, this is hard."
"I'm here. I’m listening."
A huff, and she starts again. "I…I told you that I like…" she turns, blushing. "You know."
I move to stand next to her. "Plain terms, honey. It's just you and me, no secrets, no embarrassment, no judgment.”
"I like using my mouth. I always have. And I did for him…maybe not a lot, but plenty. I understood that he didn't like going down on me, and I never expected it. I never asked."
"Just for the record, that's bullshit."
"It was clearly communicated at the outset, so I was okay with the situation.
I did what I did because I wanted to. Up until his accident, like I said, things were good.
Or so I thought. Point is, he changed. I've made that clear.
One time, we…I had this plan to try and spice things up.
Get some of the spark back, y'know?" She pauses to think for a moment.
"It was a month, month-and-a-half before I divorced him.
Things had been bad. Very, very bad. But I loved him and I was trying.
I…I was trying really, really hard, Noah.
" Her voice wavers, breaks a little, and she sniffles, starts again tearfully.
"We had some wine and got drunk together like old times.
I…went down on him. I…the intent was to get him going and then have sex, but he… finished." She grimaces at me. “Sorry."
"No apologies, Morgan. I'm not threatened or jealous or grossed out. Just keep going."
"I…I was pretty lit. Um. I was…I was horny.
I wanted him. I hadn't masturbated in a while and we obviously hadn't been doing too well, so I was just…
horny. And drunk Morgan is already horny Morgan.
So I was double trouble, I guess you could say.
Being drunk and horny, after I finished him off, I asked him if he'd return the favor.
Just once. Just a little bit. I just…I wanted to feel good.
I wanted…I just wanted to get off, Noah. And you know what he said?"
"Fuck me, I shudder to ask."
Her eyes fill with tears, and she turns away, ducks her chin to her left shoulder, hiding her face from me.
Whispers her answer, broken-voiced, tearful.
"'Do you even how you smell, Morgan? You smell like a fucking fish factory.
Who in their right mind would ever want to put their face anywhere near your smelly pussy?
Why do you think I never have? It's gross down there.
You're gross. Jesus. If I thought you were going to want that, I'd have just jerked off.
'" She repeats each word slowly and clearly, enunciating each vile syllable in a way that tells me she relives that moment far too frequently.
I'm too stunned to react. I'm horrified. Shaking with incandescent rage. "Jesus, Morgan. Jesus fucking Christ."
"It was a miracle I was able to let you even touch me.
I couldn't touch myself down there for a long, long time.
I…I heard his voice every time I tried. Those words.
The horrible, horrible things he said to me.
I…that accident, Noah…it ruined him. He wasn't always nice, before, but he was never that cruel.
It was like…whatever thing was in his brain keeping those thoughts on the inside…
it just broke. I…I don't know how I'll ever be able to let you do that, Noah. As much as I want to, I just…"
"Keeping those thoughts on the inside?" I repeat, incredulous.
"Morgan, having those thoughts at all about anyone is fucking insane.
No matter what we fought about or how ugly it got—and Morgan, Taylor and I had some pretty vicious fights over the years—I would never, ever even think something that fucking vile about her.
Shit, about anyone. Like, my god. That's…
it makes me feel like the accident didn't so much break him or change him as it did reveal who he really was all along.
Maybe he's better now, I dunno. I know TBIs can take years to fully recover from, and some people never do, not totally.
But that? There is absolutely no excuse possible for even thinking something like that, let alone saying it to someone you were meant to love, or once loved.
I wouldn't say something half so fucking disgusting to my worst enemy. "
"I know he makes you angry, but—"
I reach her face, moving slowly in case she doesn’t want to be touched, yet. "Morgan. I'm so, so sorry that he said that to you. You have to know he was just trying to hurt you, for reasons I doubt he even understood himself. Obviously, I'm not excusing or justifying."
"No, I know, but…"
I cup her cheeks, gently encouraging her to look at me. "Morgan, listen to me, now. Okay?"
"I'm listening. I just…I can't promise that there's anything you could say that would erase how I feel. How he made me feel. How self-conscious I am about…about…" she trails off.
"I know I can't change that just by saying nice things. But I'm going to speak my truth anyway, because it’s important you hear it from me." I drop my voice to a low murmur. "I smelled you, Morgan."
Her cheeks go red and her eyes water. "Noah, fuck."
"I had my fingers inside you." I put my lips to her ear, whispering, holding her against me as she squirms with intense discomfort. "When I left, you know what I did?"
"No," she breathes.
"I sniffed my fingers." She whimpers, a breathy keening sound of some extreme emotion that defies easy categorization. "You know why, Morgan?" I move my lips to her other ear. "Because you smell fucking divine."
"No," she hisses. "No, no. I don't. I don't."
"I've been fantasizing about you, Morgan," I growl, desperate to change her mind, desperate to write over those awful memories.
"I fantasize about tasting your pussy. I close my eyes and I see you spread out on the bed.
Naked. I see myself burying my face between your thighs and making you scream my name. "
"Noah,” she shivers. “Jesus."
I summon the image, seeing her sexy naked body splayed out, thighs shaking in anticipation, eyes wide and wild as I taste her. I feel myself hardening at the image, and I guide her hand to my zipper. "You feel that?"
"Uh-huh," she murmurs. "I…I feel it."
“That’s what the thought of tasting you does to me, Morgan." I slip my fingers inside her waistband, pausing there. "May I touch you?"
"Yes," she gasps. "Yes."
I slip my fingers over her seam and tease a touch up her lips, once, twice, preparing her. And then I dip a single finger inside her. "You're wet, Morgan."
“For you? Always."
I stroke her again, tease her clit until she whimpers and her knees dip. "So responsive just from a simple touch." I make a show of very slowly and intentionally bringing my finger to my face. "Look."
She squeezes her eyes shut. "I can't."
"Morgan. Please."
Her eyes flick open and fix on my wet, glistening finger, widening when I bring it to my nose and inhale. "Oh god."
"You know what I smell, Morgan?" She shakes her head, eyes shut tight. "Sweetness."
She shakes her head again. "No, no, no."
"Open your eyes again, baby." She does, and cries out when I put my finger into my mouth. "Tastes like sugar."
"You're lying."
“I’m not lying." I put my lips to her ear.
"I love how you taste, Morgan. I love how you smell.
And I want more. I desperately want to taste you.
I won't push it. I won't bring it up again if you ask me not to.
But look at me in the eyes and see if I'm lying, sweetheart.
I want you. I want all of you." Her eyes search me.
"I really, really, really want to taste your sweet, perfect pussy, Morgan.
I want to make you feel like you've never felt before. "
"I want to let you, Noah. I really do." Her voice is shaky. "I just...I don't know how. I don't know if I can. I…"
"Do you trust me?"
She nods immediately. "Yes."
"Will you let me try?"
She swallows hard. "You really want to?"
"So fucking bad."
"Why?"
"Because I enjoy it. Same reason you enjoy using your mouth.
I want to feel you shake. I want to hear the sounds you make.
I want to give you pleasure." I take her mouth, kiss her, and then keep whispering.
"We’ll go slow, take it one step at a time.
I promise you, Morgan, if you can trust me, I'll make you feel like a goddess. "
She gasps. "Oh, god. Noah."
"Please?"
She huffs a half-laugh. "You're really begging?"
I drop to my knees, lift her shirt. Kiss her belly. "On my knees and everything."
"Okay," she breathes. "I'll …I'll try."