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I scream in torture and in pleasure.
“Is this how he did it to you?”
Trevor’s question catches me off guard. I don’t know what to say.
My silence takes him to another level as he grabs my breasts with both hands and fills my insides in a way he never has before. Pumping in and out like a drill trying to reach the bottom of the earth. If I said it didn’t feel good I’d be lying.
I toot my butt out to push him outside me. I want to stare at his wrath face-to-face.
He understands.
I reach in the water and escort him back into my fiery dungeon. I shiver as he enters me again.
They say to never look an animal in the eye because they will be able to see your fear. At this moment I wish I had listened. Fear is in my eyes. Looking in Trevor’s, I can see my fear of being alone. And if I can see it in his eyes, I know he can see it, too.
Alone.
The
reason we are here.
I rock my hips hard; try to ride him back into this marriage.
He makes short, hard thrusts, tries to get my mind off the matters of this marriage.
We’re going at it like animals. Bucking like kangaroos and howling like wolves. Going at it so hard I feel my flesh scraping against the edge of the pool. Trevor sees my pain. Without removing himself from me, he moves us back over to the stairs. He’s on top of me, growing inside me, the tip of his penis trying to knock my cervix out the ballpark. I bite down on his neck until I taste blood. That excites him all the more. He puts both of my nipples in his mouth, sucks hard like he’s trying to suck a thick milkshake through a too-small straw. It hurts and feels good at the same time. My fingernails claw at his back, his drill digging deeper into my earth. He’s trying his damndest to leave a lasting impression in my womb.
My legs shake. Not from ecstasy. I’m in pain.
Trevor’s too far gone to even realize this is no longer pleasure for me.
This is too much. This is vengeance. Not the way I want to remember my final hours with my husband.
Again, emotions get the best of me, and I lose it. I cry like I did when I confessed my adultery and saw how thin the line was between love and hate.
He wipes away my tears, wraps his arms around me. I realize it was no longer pleasurable for him either. Again he pulls me closer than close. My inner walls throb against his manhood as my outer walls crumble against his chest.
“Are you sure we can’t work this out?” I hear myself plead.
He looks at me, kisses me with the love he’s always had for me, the love he had before everything changed.
My answer is in his kiss. Nothing else is to be said.
I loosen my legs from around his waist. Feel life escaping from me as he withdraws from between my legs for the last time.
• • •
Going in the house is the last thing I want to do. I want to stay in the pool until the water doubles over with my tears and drowns me in my apology. Doing so would be insane. It’s my fault that life has come to this point. Nobody made me do what I did. Can’t blame Trevor. Can’t blame circumstance. It was my actions.
I let my body drift to the bottom of the pool, but my damn skirt acts like a life preserver, refusing to let me sink.
What the hell? This is futile. I walk the floor of the pool toward the steps. With each step, the weight of my emotions decreases as less water engulfs me. My nipples harden as the air lays kisses on my wet skin. I take off my skirt and wrench the water from it, grab the rest of my clothes from the ground, and enter the house of loneliness.
“I thought you were going to stay out there forever.”
I use my clothes to cover my exposed flesh. “Trevor? I thought you left.”
“I did. Came back.”
