Page 17 of Volatile Waters

“It’s not a threat.” She trembled, but I was quickly learning that it was not I who scared her, but her guilt. “It’s regret.” I couldn’t move. This woman was baffling me every time she opened her mouth. “You’re hurting me.” Again, her point was moot to me. As her eyes filled with water, she sighed. “Hurting a woman is like breathing for you, isn’t it?”

Some foreign sensation in my gut was becoming annoying, so I released her to get back to what I came for. “Where is Marina?”

Water in her eyes spilled over and dripped down courageous cheeks. “She was resold—”

“She was never Harold’s property to sell.”

Her eyes slid shut as if I had physically injured her. “—to a very decent man. One who cherishes her.” Mrs. Thompson opened her eyes. I believe she wanted to read my reaction. “This man married her.”

It was like losing Marina all over again. Under my breath, I whispered, “Pet.”

In surrender, she said, “She got to you, too?”

I waved off Mrs. Thompson while sitting back in my seat. “No. I was only a child.”

Mrs. Thompson spoke as if she knew I was lying and was full of sympathy that I felt I had the need to lie in the first place. “That’s too bad. You should allow a woman to show you a soft side and love you someday.”

My mind flashed to pet on her knees, starving for the bread I had placed in her mouth. Leaning my head back, I forced a smile, trying to change the subject. “Isn’t that what you just did to me?”

Pity crossed her expression. Resting her head against the seat while facing me, it appeared she was swallowing down more emotions. “No.” Her palm laid on my chest. “But I will try now, if you’re willing.” We stared at each other for a while as I tried to understand what she meant. The grudge fuck we had just experienced was on the beautiful side of sex for me, possibly the most beauty I had ever known during a sexual experience. What more could there possibly be?

Slowly, and with much reservation, I nodded. “Show me.”

Her hand, ever so gently, left my chest and touched my neck, then tender fingers ran through my hair. My eyes rolled back, closing, as I faced forward. Never had I felt such kindness. It was soothing a part of me I had not known to be unhinged.

Shortness of breath is what I experienced next as her fingers continued to touch and explore me. When lips softly touched my ear, I was shocked to find my mouth blindly searching for her warmth. Mrs. Thompson didn’t refuse the monster. She let me in.

She let me devour her teachings—her lesson.

And offered more.

Never had I had a tongue in my mouth. It was delicious. She was delicious, creating an unexpected hunger that arose inside of me. That hunger craved gentleness, something I had never offered another.

During the most sensual kiss in my life, she softly grasped my face while rising to her knees. I tensed because it almost hurt, her taking control by straddling my lap. The tall beauty’s face hovered over mine. “Shh,” she whispered, reminding me of Seafoam. “You will be okay.”

It was then that I learned there was much strength in surrender. As if a scared child again, my arms raced around her waist, needing to be cemented to an earth that was violently changing from what I thought it was.

Her arms wrapped around my head as if trying to protect me from the shift that had to be felt. From within, I was trembling. I was desperate for shelter and searched for it in what I knew best. Lifting her dress, I was shocked to hear, “Ask.”

I kissed her clothed chest. “Why?”

“It’s an act of kindness.”

I grabbed onto her ass with both hands and peered up at her. “I’m not kind.”

Soft, feminine hands caressed my face. “You are.” She kissed my forehead. “Somewhere inside you.” She kissed the tip of my nose. “Be brave.” She kissed my lips. “Let it show.”

Our faces, so close, I felt her breath brushing my lips. It was like an angel’s blessing. Permission to not be Yury for a moment. In it was as if time stood still. Everything I had been taught screamed that this was a mistake, but the angel’s breath was too heavenly. I shook as I spoke a fear out loud, for the very first time. “What if there is nothing in me for someone to love?”

There was a pause. “Then your life is even more pathetic than mine.”

My throat closed as my eyes welled. It was clear now. There was nothing in my soul to be saved.

Her lips kissed my numb ones. “But you asking that, Yury, tells me there is something to love.”

I gaped at the woman and the hope she just offered me. “My name… it is not truly Yury.”

Affectionately, she brushed hair from my forehead. “Does it really matter?” Her finger drifted down my face. “Look at all we’ve just shared.” Her eyes met mine. “And you don’t even know my name.”