Resist (15 page)

I grasped his hand closest to me into mine and we walked into the house, my Christian Louboutin heels click-clacking against the hard wood floors. Before I could stop him, he picked me up and tossed me over his shoulder, caveman-style, before he ran up the stairs, opened the door to his suite and closed it, locking the doors behind us.

After he ceremoniously dumped me on the bed, I stood and slipped off my shoes. That was as far as I got because he wrapped his arms around me and his mouth was on mine—claiming and owning every inch of me. I began to unbutton his black silk shirt as he popped the button on his pants and slid out of them, kicking them to the side. Then he helped me out of my dress and tossed it on the floor next to his pants.

Nothing but the illuminated pool area provided light for us but that was better than any candlelit evening to me. Two savage beasts we were—clawing at one another, all lips and tongues and hungry fingers. I grabbed his length and pulled, pumping to get him harder than he was before he pushed me down to the floor in front of him. I knelt on a Persian rug but the hardwood floors underneath were still uncomfortable against my knees.

“Give me what I want, babe. Fuckin’ swallow my cock.”

I knew, without discrepancy, what he wanted because he’d shown me exactly how to go about pleasing him. It was hard work, learning how to take the length of him inside my mouth while trying to downplay my easy gag reflex, breathing through my nose and playing with his balls at the same time.

The texture of his skin, the smell of his cologne tickled my nostrils and his recently washed body made it easy to caress him in my mouth and I quickly fell into a rhythm of in and out, my tongue teasing the head of his dick every now and then. I knew exactly how long he would want this to last which was never very long because my mouth became a suction, an extension of the real place of warmth he wanted to sink into. He had never come in my mouth and I couldn’t hide my perplexity over this strange phenomenon. I didn’t know if it was because he was testing me or because he never wanted his release to be with me on my knees unless he was buried deep inside of me.

I looked up at him and something flicked through his eyes that innately concerned me but I didn’t know what exactly. Wordlessly, he withdrew his dick from between my lips and bent down to pick me up. Gently, he sat me on the bed and spread my legs.

“My turn,” he said.

I smiled shyly and gazed down at his head as it disappeared between my legs. His tongue slid between my lips and flicked against my clit. I gasped out loud as he used his thumbs to spread me open as he toyed with my nub, sucking it in and out of his mouth while I tried to stifle my moans. I caressed my breasts and pinched my sensitive nipples while he continued to pleasure me.

It was no secret I was addicted to everything Blaine did to me and I looked forward to sex. The pain of him using his cock as a weapon, meant to pump and slam me into submission caused a sensation to stir inside of me I couldn’t express with words. However pleasurable he made me feel with his cock inside of me, him giving me head came in a close second. There was something so completely erotic about his tongue caressing me, and his fingers as they teased my G-spot. His perfectly thick fingers that were also elegant at the same time, teasing me with such precision.

He played my body like he must have run those same fingers over a piano. My orgasm washed over my body in a wave of pleasure and satisfaction though I still needed him to fuck me. Without penetration, oral sex was like an appetizer without the main course.

Blaine kissed his way up my body, his hands taking over from mine, squeezing my breasts. His mouth descended on a nipple and suckled on it before he bit it and the pain tingled yet it felt erotically stimulating. I arched my back, pushing my body closer to him.

His hands held my own against the bed in a Christ-like pose as he tackled the other nipple and licked around my areola before he suckled and then bit me. It was never hard enough to break the skin but it was done with enough pressure my nipples would be bruised and feel deliciously sensitive against his chest when he crushed our bodies together during the act of lovemaking.

“Tell me how much you want my cock inside of you,” he whispered into my ear before he lightly bit my lobe.

“I want your cock inside of me.”

Due to him holding me down, he maneuvered his body and the head of his dick pushed against my soaking wet entrance. “That wasn’t very convincing, Vie. You’re not a fucking parrot. I want you to articulate how much you want me to fuck you. I can tease for a very long time.

I tried to gain purchase by bending my legs at the knees and planting my feet on the bed but he was quicker than me as spread my thighs further apart and my heels slipped on the silk comforter.

“I want you inside of me because I have never felt more alive than when you are controlling my body and manipulating it to do your bidding. It’s the closest I might ever come to you saying you love me because your touch is gentle yet tough like that of a parent caring for an errant child. You make me feel needed and wanted in a way no other man has, and more than that, I feel completely safe and protected by you. I know you don’t do the things we do with casual lovers and if anyone could have been my first . . . my one and only, I would have
still
chosen you. For the first time, I can picture spending the rest of my life with one man and . . . that person is you.”

I breathed hard as I looked into his eyes and they resembled colorless orbs with black pupils in the dim light. I couldn’t believe he would be so calm after a speech like that but it was completely on the outside. When he thrust into me and his body settled over mine, I could feel his heart thundering in his chest like wild horses. He wasn’t subdued at all; he preferred not to say anything at all and that was fine with me.

The strangest sensation came over me as he continued to hold my hands down and he slammed in and out of me with aching precision. It was completely organic although a part of me wanted to run my fingers through his hair, I also realized our issue in that moment.

Blaine filled me completely and I squeezed my kegel muscles, aching to be as close to him as possible. His chest brushed against mine, my nipples hard and a ripple of pleasure coursed through my body every time they touched his chest. Our stomachs pressed against one another yet my legs were merely splayed. I hated that because it made me feel like his victim rather than a willing participant.

The bold part of me emerging had grown frustrated and weary of the submissive I’d played and wanted to assert herself into the equation. My legs wrapped around his waist and my ankles rested, one on top of the other, wrapping his body completely into my own.

I won’t lie and say we made love because we didn’t although we weren’t fucking either, no matter how brutal his thrusts inside of me were. We were both on an exploration and kept asking each other the same question with our eyes though it was never voiced out loud.

Who
are
you? Who are
you
really?

Neither one of could quite answer the question though we knew we were close to an impasse—perhaps it was on the tips of our tongues and eventually we would figure it out via osmosis. A petty fantasy and good on paper but in reality, relationships didn’t work that way.

Two people could talk their whole way through a relationship, engagement and marriage and still not be any closer to figuring out
whom
they married. Our problem wasn’t communication; merely we were doing the wrong kind and not asking the important questions that mattered.

We avoided the subjects that made us feel queasy and uncomfortable.

Neither one of us wanted to discuss the possibility of love because once we admitted it existed, we might have to wonder whether we were as susceptible to its charms as most people.

Not that we didn’t love people. We just couldn’t quite get the hang out of truly loving ourselves and in that truth came the purest love of all: the ability to love another
not
related by blood or relation. If we could just find out what part of us was missing, maybe we could start to fulfill one another as much outside of the bedroom as we did during sex.

Although my existentialist thinking should have prevented me from having as orgasm, I succumbed beneath him only moments before he came inside of me. Still and completely silent above me, he said nothing as he withdrew and situated himself in a way that the majority of his body weight was not distributed on top of me. His head lay against my breasts and I stroked his hair reassuringly.

The bruising of his handprints around my wrists began to form on my pale olive skin and should have bothered me but I thought nothing of them at the time. I didn’t feel the pain and it never felt like he gripped me that hard. I merely wrapped my arms around his neck as he cuddled me closer, his semen leaking out of me to form a wet spot on the silk comforter beneath us.

We both knew we should have taken showers but it was the farthest thing from my mind and there was something comforting in his fluids draining from my body. Although the actual concept we were so calm about should have repulsed us, we were too deeply involved in the aftermath of our lovemaking to care.

“Why so quiet?” I finally broke the silence as I kissed his forehead.

“I think I am falling . . . and I don’t know how I feel about that. I have never been in love before with any woman. Well, maybe I was a little bit in love with Jocelyn but was it the idea of Jocelyn I was in love with or the woman? Sometimes, for men, we can never tell.”

“It’s the same for women too. It isn’t a male thing, sweetie, it’s human nature. Sometimes people look better on paper than in real life and love can be the same way. We are told that it is dewy ball of lovely emotions—reds, whites and pinks. Valentine’s Day is the National Anthem of lovers everywhere. But what that cheesy pseudo holiday shields is the ugly side of love, the part no one wants talks about.”

He looked into my eyes longingly as if he knew I held the answer. “And that is?”

“Jealousy, possessiveness, obsession, power struggles—they’re a necessary evil. The day you stop caring and realize you don’t want to fight for your relationship is the day the love dies, plain and simple. The problem is . . . most of the time, the murderer of love isn’t any of the emotions I just named. No, the biggest culprits are apathy, content, and the slow festering sense of comfortable numbness you get as you settle into a situation so deeply jaded you forget to care.

“All of us are walking wounded but some of us revel in our in pain and realize it’s the brain struggling to tell the body, ‘You’re alive, goddamn it, and celebrate it for however long it lasts.’ Others try to bury that pain because they prefer not to feel at all. They suppress it with drugs, booze, sex, food—anything to not remind themselves of the fact we are living, breathing human beings marching towards the day of our death from the moment we were born. It’s not maudlin thinking but common sense. We were born . . . to die.”

Blaine’s crystal blue eyes searched mine before he rose up and kissed me, his mouth claiming my own. Our tongues danced and pranced around one another in a duet of life, death, and the struggle to maintain what we knew innately.

If love was a battlefield, we’d just been called in for duty and our time on the sidelines as mere observers had passed us by. We would have to fight for what we wanted.

He desired me, needed me, and wanted me but now he’d finally come to the conclusion perhaps that it would be impossible for him to live without me.

He battled two sides of himself. One was dark but the other half was darker, more sinister and just plain sadistic. I knew it wasn’t in Blaine to be a sadist. All were taught to be the monsters they became but I had to remember what Nietzsche, that mad man in love with his sister, had once proclaimed.

 
Whoever fights monsters should see to it that in the process he does not become a monster. And when you look into the abyss, the abyss also looks into you. 

If I truly believed Blain was capable of loving me, I would have to fight the monster inside of him. Not that he would ever be free of that dark twisted side but it would have to be controlled lest it swallow all of him and there would be no part of him to truly love.

I also realized with stunning clarity I hadn’t conquered genophobia.