AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“I love you too,” she gasped.
“How much?” I asked, inserting one finger gently into her.
She let out a small noise but didn’t answer. I gave her a few moments of thrusting it in and out of her, before adding another digit.
“How much do you love me?” I queried again.
She couldn’t answer because I began scissoring my fingers, and the look on her face was delicious. I could feel how tight she was, just from the two fingers I had inside her. I added another finger boldly, and she squirmed, mewling into the air.
“Isaid, how much do you love me?”
“I love you so fucking much, but if you don’t get inside of me soon, I might kill you,” she garbled in a single breath.
I chuckled to myself, and lined myself up to her entrance, before plunging in swiftly. Her mouth opened in a silent moan, and she tipped her head back. I groaned with the feeling of her around me and felt my hips almost jerk, but I stayed still because I was worried about hurting her, about causing some irreparable harm only an hour into our relationship. Her teeth were clenched, but it was like I could see her thoughts. As her jaw relaxed and her eyes opened, I let my hips slide slowly forward. I saw her teeth grit again, but it eased within the first couple of dips of my hips. I slowly increased my pace, but not too much. I didn’t want to push her when she was trusting me so much. I knew how much it must mean to her to let me do this.
I kept going until she urged me to move faster. I kissed her, pulling her up to sit in my lap as we moved together. I briefly wondered if I could get her off just like this, sat in my lap and bouncing. I banished the thought though. I wasn’t going to experiment yet. I let my hand slide between us to trace the delicate little nub that I knew would help speed things up for her. From her small whimpers and mewls, I knew she was enjoying herself, but I wasn’t going to last long looking at her like that. When my hand pressed against her, her eyes snapped open, lust heavy in them. I twitched my middle finger and she suppressed a groan, dropping her head to my shoulder. I kept rubbing, and pain, sparking brightly with pleasure, blossomed at the top of my shoulder. I gasped and looked down. Evelyn had bitten the skin there after one particularly well-coordinated thrust, and I realized I might have found the spot. I angled myself to reach it continually and increased my pace again.
“Oh God,” she panted, “Right there,yes.”
I wasn’t sure I could grow any harder, but I did, wondering if I could hold out as her head lolled backward with easy pleasure. She moaned, and I swiped across her clit again. I could see she was getting close, so I built her up to that edge, and when she fell over with my increasingly erratic thrusts, the feeling of her milking me was more than enough to have me cresting the gentle waves of climax that rolled over me. I held her there, and she rode out her orgasm in my lap. When she was done, I laid her back onto the bed and lay next to her. I covered us both with the heavy afghan at the foot of my bed, and she snuggled into it and the lush pillows on her side, looking content and happy. My face landed next to hers, only inches away.
“Okay?” I asked, brushing a stray strand of her hair away from her face.
Evelyn’s eyes met mine, and they were big, brown, and held no other emotion thanhappy.
“I never really understood how sex could be romantic,” she said quietly, “I thought it was a purely physical act.”
“But you still waited until you had the emotional connection?”
She would have shrugged if the angle allowed for it.
“I wanted to be with someone I could trust not to hurt me. Being in love, feeling that love returned, seemed like the easiest way to do that.”
I thought about it. Her whole life, every decision she made seemed to revolve around this need to avoid pain, and I understood it. The people that had hurt her had left a mark that time would never be able to fully heal, but I could damn well try.
“I never want to hurt you,” I said quietly.
Her whole face, for the first time, was completely open and trusting.
“I know,” she said, “And I will do my best to never hurt you.”
“Could you tell me something?” I inquired.
“Hmm… depends, what is it?”
“What happened in Portland?”
I saw her completely freeze up, and I wished I hadn’t said anything. She should have felt free enough to not have to answer that. Slowly though, as I was about to rescind my question, she relaxed again. She rolled onto her back and sighed heavily. Her eyes were still wary and guarded, but she opened her mouth to speak.
“My father was a teacher,” she said, “My mother was as well. She worked with Kindergarteners, and he worked with First Grade. They became friends because of their work, and then they became more than friends. I was never supposed to happen, which made it all the worse when she was diagnosed with a malignant tumor in her breast when she was a little more than three months pregnant with me. By that point, they had gotten married, also because of me. She couldn’t have treatment with me.”
It was clearly hard for Evelyn to talk about, but she held up a hand to silence me when I looked like I might interrupt. I got the hint?—if she was going to speak, I was going to listen.
“They could have treated it if she terminated me,” she muttered, “But she also had Endometriosis. She’d already had three miscarriages, and between those and a diagnosis of infertility, one marriage had already ended. She was adamant that I was going to be born, so she wasn’t treated. By the time I was born, her chances of survival had dropped massively.”
“Everything was okay for a few years, apparently. She was in outpatient treatments, we all played happy family, and she even went into remission briefly. But Dad woke up one day and she was on the floor. She was confused and weak, he said. The doctors said it was her kidneys. The cancer had come back and spread. It spreadeverywhere. They said that it was only a matter of time. They gave her three years?—maybe. That was when I was three. Dad got mean after that. He acted like she was already a ghost. Like she had died just because she had been told she would. Mom never really had a family, and I never learned about Dad’s side. When I was six, she went into the hospital. She never left. I had my seventh birthday there, with a cake the nurses made. It was actually one of the best parties I’d ever had. Mom and I played cards until really late, and no one told me to go to bed. They set up a cot and let me stay over.”
“Dad drank a lot. I found out later that Mom wanted to divorce him, but she would have lost me because she couldn’t take care of me. So, when Mom did go, things got harder. Dad hadn’t wanted kids anyway, and then he decided that I had killed Mom, just by being born. He really did love her, but that didn’t particularly help me when I was seven, and grieving, and felt so alone in the world. He stopped caring after that. It wasn’t like he beat me or anything, but some days I wanted him to. I wanted him to care about me, and I knew he didn’t. The house was filthy, I never had clean clothes, and I used to walk to school, regardless of the weather. Dad acted like he didn’t have a kid, and when he acknowledged me, it was to remind me what a waste of space I was. I stole alot. We didn’t have money for groceries, so I got really good at shoplifting sandwiches and other small food. I used to steal clothes as well. Mostly from Goodwill. I thought it was okay because the other kids whose parents couldn’t afford clothes at school got them from Goodwill.”
