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Naked and exposed, my skirt hiked up, blouse draped open, and fingers buried deep inside my vagina, I met the familiar blue-eyed gaze of the one man I thought I’d never see again.
My husband.
“Come back to me.”
Part II
Mack closed the door and locked it behind him, the sound of the bolt turning unnaturally loud to my overly piqued senses as I waited, my heart caught in my throat, for him to reach me. I closed my legs and tugged my blouse shut, suddenly embarrassed to be found half-naked, even though he was the cause.
My hungry gaze roamed his body. I hadn’t seen him in over ten years, yet it was though not one day had passed.
He was dressed elegantly, his loosely fitted trousers and casual shirt draping his long, hard frame to perfection, his large feet encased in dark, Italian-styled loafers. So well turned out, so different than what I last remembered.
But it was him.
No finely tailored clothes or handmade shoes could disguise his raw masculinity.
I nestled my flushed and heated back further against the cool leather seat and desperately kept my face blank to keep the wild emotions crashing over me from showing in my expression, trying to keep it all together.
I wanted to either run to his arms or go screaming and crying in the other direction as far away from him as possible, to put as much distance between us as I possibly could.
My gaze returned to his face and I recognized the determined expression in his hauntingly familiar gaze. Dark slashing eyebrows were set above bright blue, deep-set eyes that were surrounded by lashes so thick they seemed unreal.
His aquiline nose was saved from model perfection with the addition of a small bump in the middle, one he’d gotten in high school playing football. Chiseled cheeks, a well-defined, determined squared chin, and a hard yet sensual wide mouth completed the picture of utter masculine beauty.
As I had been hungrily checking him out, he had been doing the same. “God, you’re beautiful, Sheena,” he groaned.
I knew what he saw; not much had changed with the exception of my hairstyle in ten years. Outwardly at least. I was still average height, with the same dark brown eyes, slightly rounded nose and full cheeks. And a body that still had a tendency toward curves.
I wanted to do what most women did and instantly refute his compliment, but the look in his heated eyes told me he meant every word of what he said.
I ran a self-conscious hand over my short, curly hair and laughed nervously.
“My hair is different, I imagine, than what you expected,” I answered. The last time we’d seen one another, I’d worn my hair long and relaxed, having chemically straightened my natural curls.
“After you…left, I changed. Matured, made my own decisions, even about my hair,” I replied, hinting at those long-ago days when I allowed others to make decisions for me.
“I love it,” he said and the sincerity of the compliment eased the nervous swell in my belly. “Make love with me,” he boldly asked, his deep voice hoarse, his beautiful eyes pleading.
His hand rested at the top of his pants, waiting for me to give my assent.
I didn’t say a word. I couldn’t speak; emotions were crowding in on me, memories…
“Say something, baby.” No longer the forceful stranger who’d made love to me over the phone, no longer the arrogant stranger who forced me to surrender to his demands, he was a man asking a woman to allow him into her arms.
And damned if I could say no. I opened my arms, inviting him to come to me.
With my silent acquiescence, a change immediately came over him. Within moments he’d crossed the short distance separating us, lifted me from the chair and plopped me onto my desk and covered my body.
We clutched and grabbed at one another, buttons popping, shoes kicked off and clothes flying everywhere in our haste to bare our bodies, wanting nothing between us but hotsliding skin.
With a feral growl of need and arousal he pushed between my legs, shoving them high, forcing them wide apart and planted my feet on the desk. I felt the hot knob of his shaft press against the entry to my vagina, waiting for approval before entering. My gaze flew to his, measuring his heavy regard.
“Take me inside of you, baby.”
I expected him to forge ahead, he was so hot with the need to fuck me. I was surprised at his hesitancy.
I held his gaze and reached one hand down and lightly toyed with his twin, silky-skinned spheres, teasing them, rolling them around my hand in delight.
“Oh God, baby,” he laughingly groaned. “This is going to be hard enough without you playing with my balls.”
“Turnabout is fair play, Mack,” I said, reminding him of the way he’d been playing with me over the last week. With one final caress, I allowed his heavy sac to gently fall back against his thighs. I circled the base of his penis and wrapped my hand around its thick circumference. My pussy tightened in response and my heart ached at how much I anticipated feeling all that delicious dick imbedded deep inside me.
“Just take me, baby…ah, yes…just like that,” he said as I guided his rock hard shaft inside my body, the cream from my pussy soaking him even as he pressed inside of me. We both groaned in delight when my pussy instantly latched on and gripped him. I bit my lip to keep myself from crying out when he began to feed me his dick in delicious increments.
He gripped my hips and forced my body to still in order to take all of him in. I was unable to hold back the cry as he fed me the rest of his shaft, the feeling so exquisite, so hard…
“Oh God, Mack…oh God, oh God…” I chanted over and over, my voice shaky.
He stopped, a crease of worry knotting his brow. “Are you okay? Am I hurting you, baby?”
I squirmed around his massive shaft. Yes, there was some pain, but there was no way I was going to allow him to stop.
“It’s been awhile for me,” I admitted. “But it’s good, Mack, it’s good, baby. Now, do me.”
He didn’t wait for me to change my mind. He drove his shaft home, so far inside of me I felt the tip brush against my womb.
“Wrap your legs around me,” he directed.
I clasped my legs around his narrow waist and grabbed onto his thick forearms with my fingers, digging into his flesh as he stretched me wide, and began to move.
And oh God, when the man moved…he moved.
He held on to my hips and leaned down on top of me, pinning me beneath his powerful body and he fucked me hard. He jostled my body, the hardness of his flesh competing with the unyielding wood of my desk.
“I missed this tight cunt, so hot and juicy, fitting my dick just right.” He breathed the scorching, coarse words against my neck.
“God, Mack, I missed this too!” I whimpered, loving the hot nasty words, loving the way he made me feel as he drove inside my creaming heat, working me in a way that only he could, in a way I’d not had in over ten years.
He leveled himself away from me, lifted my leg and dug into me again, knifing me in hot easy glides, moving my body the way he wanted, positioning us to achieve mutual satisfaction. On and on he thrust inside of me, hammering into me; nothing was heard but our heavy breathing and the wet sound of bodies slapping, harsh groans and sighs of pleasure.
When he ran one hand down my trembling thighs and captured my clit between his thumb and forefinger, pinching the turgid tip, I blew out a harsh strangled breath. My head tossed back and forth on the desk. I slid myself closer to him and gasped when he rotated his hips, corkscrewing his dick inside of me, and jammed into my body.
I began to move, I had to, with all that hard, pounding, overwhelming dick rutting inside of me; if I didn’t, I would have lost my mind.
“No…don’t move yet…you feel so good on my dick. If you move, this will be over with, before we both want it to be,” he laughed huskily.
“Please, Mack, I need to move, I can’t take it—”
“You can,” he said and covered my mouth with his, shoving his tongue deep into the recesses of my mouth, effectively shutting me up.
His strokes were slow, deliberate and forced me to take all of him, not sacrificing one scorching inch as he fucked me.
“You feel so good wrapped around me like this, so wet and good,” he murmured, releasing my mouth. “Do you like the way I feel, Sheena? Did you miss this from me, baby?”
“Yesss!” I panted. “Yes, Mack, yes I missed this.” I cried out harshly when he reached a hand between us and spread the lips of my vagina wide, around his straining dick, and spread my own lubricant up and over my clit.
The hot strokes of his rod, the sweet massage of his hand, sent me over the edge in minutes, and I cried out as he continued to plunge into my body, loving me in a way I hadn’t been loved in years.
My orgasm triggered his and within minutes he was joining me in the release. He shouted hoarsely, reared his big body away from mine, and pulled out at the last minute.
I felt the hot stream of his seed jet free and land in a scorching river on my belly, before he collapsed on top of me.
“Come back to me,” he repeated in a hoarse whisper against the side of my neck. “I should have never let you go.”
Part III
My orgasm left me so spent, so filled I was barely able to lift my head from the desk, but his words sent a rush of adrenalin coursing through me.
“God, Mack, I can’t go through this again…not again,” I whispered, my voice strangled even to my own ears. I swallowed deep and felt him take a deep breath in response.
I pushed against Mack’s chest, silently asking him to move. The instant the cool air from the overhead vent hit my bared body, I wrapped my arms around myself and shivered.
“Come here, you’re cold,” he murmured. He gathered my resistant body into the shelter of his arms and lifted me, carrying me to my leather chair and sat down. I lay my head back down on his chest, listening to the reassuring, steady thump of his heartbeat against my ear.
“Sheena, baby…you’re not going to have to go through anything else with me. I’m a changed man—I’m not the same guy you married ten years ago. We were so young, damn baby, we were kids! I didn’t know anything about being a man, much less a husband…or father,” he said, forcing my body closer into the warm hard muscles of his chest.
The admission tore into me. I wished we could have avoided all mention of the baby, and for him to bring it up now, after the extreme eroticism of our lovemaking had left me shaken, my body not yet recovered from what he’d done to me…my emotions were all over the place.
I felt like raw meat, exposed and completely undone.
“Don’t—please don’t go there. I can’t—” I wrenched myself away from the warmth of his embrace, knowing that if I stayed there much longer, I wouldn’t be able to do what I needed to do. And what I needed to do was end this now, before it went any further.
“Fuck, yes! Yes, we are going there. Not going there is part of the reason we couldn’t make it in the first damn place, Sheena. Not going there is the reason you left me, didn’t help me…”
I spun around so hard, my head almost separated from my shoulders. “Shit, I didn’t help you, Mack? Are you serious? God! Please don’t tell me you’re serious!” With angry precise movements, I picked up my blouse and shoved my arms through the sleeves, tears blinding my eyes.
He leapt up from where he was sitting and grabbed me, pulling my face close to his, forcing my head to snap up and look him in the eyes. “Yes, I know, I was scum, I wasn’t there for you. You’ve told me that a million times, and if you weren’t telling me, it was either your mama or your grandmother letting me know what a complete failure I was. That you would be better off without me.”
“Wha…what are you talking about? What do my mother and grandmother have to do with this? Mack? Mack!” He turned and walked away, leaving my arms to dangle at my sides.
He glanced back over at me.
“Yeah, sex has always been a good thing between us, Sheena. But it wasn’t the only good thing. No matter what your family thought, I have always loved you. I probably always will.” My heart wept at his words.
There was a wealth of silence before I spoke, and my heart ached at emotion crossing his suddenly gaunt-looking face.
“Mack…I didn’t know. What happened?”
He turned away from me and walked toward the window, staring out at the sound booth.
“After we lost the baby—” His voice cracked. He stopped and cleared his throat before he continued. “After we lost the baby, I was lost, Sheena…just like you. But I knew I had to be strong for you, for us. You completely withdrew from me, you couldn’t even look at me,” he said, and he was right.
I remembered how hard it was for me to look at him, seeing his bright blue eyes, wondering if the baby would have inherited them or my brown eyes, if he or she would have had his stubborn chin, his loving nature…
“You couldn’t stand to even look at me,” he repeated, turning to face me and I knew he saw the truth of what he said reflected in my face.
“I couldn’t. I was in such a dark place that I—”
“I know.”
He slowly walked toward me and I reached for him. We clutched one another, no words needed.
“You know your family never did like me, always thought I was bad news for you, didn’t like us together. Your grandmother never wanted you with that ‘poor white boy.’” He laughed with no real humor.
“Grandma is old school, Mack. Her generation saw things differently. Besides, she never thought anyone was good enough for me. It wouldn’t have mattered if you’d been the darkest brother on the planet, nobody would have been good enough,” I said and Mack snorted.
I felt his hand caress the top of my hair, smoothing over my short curls.
“A month after you miscarried, your grandmother came to visit me at the shop one afternoon,” he began, referring to the garage he’d worked at full-time at night as he’d attended college during the day.
“Yes…” I encouraged him to continue when he hesitated.
He sighed and guided me back to the chair and sat down, before pulling me down to sit on him. After he’d comfortably arranged us he wrapped his arms around me and inhaled a deep breath.
“She told me you were miserable, that without the baby there was no need for us to stay together, that our marriage had nothing to keep it together,” he continued. “When she made the suggestion for me to leave you alone, that a life as a mechanic’s wife wasn’t something your family wanted for you, that you had too much potential for that, I knew she was right. But you were my wife and I loved you. Yes, we married young because you were pregnant, but that wasn’t the only reason I wanted to marry you, Sheena. I thought we could make it. I thought you felt the same way I did.”
“I did. That’s why it devastated me when you left,” I cried out, the cry wrenched from that place inside of me I kept buried. The pain of him leaving was still raw, unhealed. But if I didn’t tell him now how I felt, we…I…could never heal. I could never move ahead with my life.
“I kept the pain of you leaving me layered deep with self-avowals and mantras I’d learned in graduate school, refusing to give you, or anyone else control over my life, my feelings, my emotions ever again.” I took a deep, steadying breath and forged ahead.
“When you left it took me a long time to get it together, but I did. I took a long hard look at what I wanted in life. I decided it was time for me to take control, and that I wouldn’t allow you, or anyone else, to make me doubt myself or who I was. I wouldn’t get so caught up in someone else that I lost sight of who I was.”
“Sheena—”
“No, I need to say this Mack. None of those mantras did a bit of good. When your heart is wounded and the one person you need to help you heal doesn’t care enough to stick around when you need them the most, it’s a painful lesson.”
“I didn’t want to leave you. I did it because I thought it was what you wanted—”
“Did you bother to ask me? Or did you just go along with what my family wanted, go by what they were telling you?” I demanded and struggled against his hold, pulling away from him and sitting up in his lap.
“No, damn it, I didn’t! And even had I, what would you have done? What would have been your response? Could you have gotten past the pain of the miscarriage to accept me, to fight for me?” Mack was just as affected as I was, his chest heaving, the look in his eyes angry and accusing.
“I—” I stopped.
What would I have done? Would I have accepted him, reached out for him, when he needed me, too? Or had I been so young, filled with so much pain that I wouldn’t have been able to give him the reassuring words he’d needed at the time.
I laid my head back down on his chest. When I felt his fingers stroke my hair I relaxed.
