The Good Sister (26 page)

Tossing the belt aside, he hesitated. What should he do next? How far should he take it? He pulled his wallet from his pocket and grabbed the condom from there. He could at least do that right. She looked down at it, then up into his eyes.

She never dated. As far as Noah remembered her history, she was still a virgin at the age of twenty-four when she and Elliot got married. Everyone knew that, thanks to one of Jessie’s stunts. After that, she was married to her torturer and therefore, at his mercy, or lack thereof. She didn’t know about things like having casual sex. Fun sex. Sex for the sake of pure pleasure. She probably also didn’t have to worry about condoms.

Elliot must not have wanted kids, or he didn’t doubt that she’d have one.

“I tricked him.”

Noah paused as he set his wallet and glasses on the nightstand, putting the condom where he could find it. He straightened up and came back to her. “How?”

“I had an IUD put in. Before we moved to Virginia. Before he took my car and cash away. I snuck into a health clinic and had an IUD inserted. They last for five years. So I knew for at least five years, I couldn’t conceive his kid. That’s why I don’t have any.”

He pulled her to his chest and hugged her. What the hell was there to say to that? Elliot took her car away from her? Her cash? Did she have nothing left? But then again, he already knew that. He knew better than anyone the dependent subservience Elliot insisted she show towards him.

He kissed her forehead, her eyelids, her nose, her cheeks, and her mouth, running his hands down her arms, her sides, and her back. By the time he put his hands beneath the elastic of the yoga pants she wore, she lay down compliantly. He slid them off her hips, and she lifted her butt off the mattress, until they passed her toes. She wore black lace underwear. He leaned back on his heels, somewhat shocked at such sexy underwear. She certainly couldn’t have been planning this today. Why did she have them on?

“He required that I wear them. At all times. They are all I own.”

His eyes fell on her face as she nodded at her panties. He swallowed in pain. What should he say to that?

He carefully tucked a finger in the waistband and waited for her reaction. She again, lifted her hips up and he darted a glance at her. She nodded. His hands felt as awkward as when he was a teenager, trying it for the first time. It was hard, so much harder than he ever thought to know how to make love to a woman who never had it in a normal, healthy way.

He finally managed to strip her naked only to find more scars. They were located on her thighs and even on one of her calves. He looked back towards her face and touched her lips with his finger. “Was it ever good for you?”

“Not really. In the beginning, it wasn’t as terrible.”

Until it became terrible. He got it. He just didn’t know exactly what to do with it.

“Noah, it’s okay. I am pretty sure that anything you do could not be terrible.”

He didn’t know how she did it. Or why she thought this was a good idea.

He took a deep breath and lowered his head as he touched her breast with his lips. He kissed her nipple, then took it into his mouth and rolled his tongue over it. Her back lifted off the mattress and she held his head against her. He did it again, and again, and again. He switched nipples. She moaned and flopped back. He glanced up, noticing her eyes were closed, and her mouth parted. He nearly prayed. She was enjoying this. It felt good to her and not terrible.

Her lower half squirmed. His legs were next to hers and she lifted her leg and put it over his. Her body was reacting the way it should. He didn’t think that was faked. Why would she bother? He kept his mouth on her nipple as he slid his hand down further and touched. She stilled at first, then he put a finger inside her. He rubbed her until the wetness started to slicken her opening and his fingertips, finally grasping her clit. She startled and gasped, lifting her hips toward his hand. Didn’t Elliot ever touch her? Hadn’t she ever touched herself? He assumed by her startled, nearly frantic reaction, that she had no idea her body could even feel so good.

Her head flopped back and forth as she bit her lip and gasped. He sucked her nipple and caressed her with tenderness, as if she were a tiny, broken bird about to be crushed under him. He twirled her nipples between his fingers and sat back and watched her. She was so beautiful. She was turned on, alive, and fully present. She gasped and moaned, as he felt like his hand might melt from the fire he kindled inside her. Finally, moving lower, his tongue touched her excited nub. Again, she jerked as if he totally surprised her. He tasted, smelled and touched her more. His heart felt like it could break from wanting her so much. From loving her right now. From seeing her like this.

Moving his mouth off her, he kissed her again as her body tightened and convulsed. She was nearly screaming for a release that seemed as
alien to her as it was unexpected.

She moaned and sighed his name, along with
God
. Her eyes were tightly shut and he waited until she descended from her spiraling orgasm before he moved off her. Slowly, she quieted and at length, her eyelashes fluttered open.

“Give me your hand.”

She turned her head with a jerk to look at him. He nodded at her hand, which lay limply by her side. She raised it to his. His heart turned over with joy, seeing that she trusted him. He took her hand and set it between her legs, but she quickly pulled it back. “What are you doing?”

“Showing you how to do it.”

He used his fingers to place hers where he wanted them. She kept her hand limp and lifeless, but eventually got the idea. “Now press.”

“No. I can’t do that.”

“You should do that. You’re beautiful when you do.” 

She lowered her eyebrows, looking annoyed and puzzled. Finally, she moved her fingers a bit before blinking with surprise. Arousal. It was quick and obviously overwhelmed her. His stomach tightened in response, as it was difficult not to. She raised her knees and lifted her hips into her hand. Her eyelids fluttered shut again and he watched her as she used her hand while moaning in response and squeezing her eyes tightly shut. He took her other hand and set it on her breast. She frowned again and opened her eyes. She acted like she’d never done any of this before, but finally rubbed her nipple. Then she did it harder, almost crushing her breast with her firm grip. Her hips again jerked in response to her own touch. His entire body reacted as if she just touched him.

“Oh my God,” she chanted softly. He smiled, finding something so innocent about her first learning that she could actually do that to herself. Or do it at all. Maybe she never had. It was infuriating to think she received nothing but pain from something that most people called pleasure, and an expression of their love for another. Though he also did it for pleasure, there was more often than not, caring and intimacy in all the relationships he had, so that it only enhanced the relationship. He wondered what it was like to have that used against you.

She suddenly slid her hands off herself and put them on him. Turning, she wrapped her hands around his shoulders before kissing him on his shoulder, his collar, and his neck. He leaned into her ministrations, finding it impossible not to crave her body. He closed his eyes, feeling things he never imagined filling his heart. God, this was more than affection or lust. This was so much more. He’d never really been in love, but felt pretty sure this had to be it. These feelings. They could not possibly be anything else. It wasn’t like he could mistake it for infatuation.

Rolling her onto her back, he lay beside her as he tucked a clump of hair behind her ear. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.”

Unzipping his jeans, he peeled everything off and put the condom on. He rolled over towards her and came back along her side, until he was hovering over her. She opened her legs, placing her knees wide apart and cradling him while her body heat blazed on. He groaned at the sensation. All he wanted to do right then was slam into her, boiling, heated core, but he resisted the urge. He ran his hand through her hair and touched her cheek before kissing her long and deep.  

Her hands felt cool and soft as they caressed his back, his waist, and finally, his bare butt. She squeezed and kneaded. Did she like what she found? He had no idea. But his entire body was suddenly aflame as blood rushed to his skin’s surface and his pumping adrenaline nearly stopped his heart with excitement.

She pushed down, and he got the message, sliding into her. She relaxed her thighs and it was… perfect. He didn’t know how else to describe it. He fit perfectly inside her. He closed his eyes and let the white-hot, intense pleasure of being inside her fill his mind. He resisted the desire to urgently move fast and deep and hard as he could. No! Not with her. This was not about his pleasure. This was not about normal sex. This was more. So much more.

This was the woman he truly loved.

Suddenly, the act took on new significance and an intensity that was lost to him before now. She squirmed under him, and he took it to mean she was okay. He moved and she responded. Her body heat practically scorched him, making his skin, his insides, even his eyeballs feel as if flames from an actual fire were heating them. It was so good.

She sighed and moaned, lifting her hips to meet his movements, until finally, he was gone, done, lost in the moment, as he came inside her for his pleasure, not just hers.
Christ!
He nearly was incinerated by her Sterno-like heat and subsequent screams. She came with a hot, wild abandon he did not expect from Lindsey. Not the Lindsey he now knew, loved, and cherished. But she did. And he finally understood what she meant when she said she would not break. She was trying to convince him she was a normal, functioning woman who deserved to know what good sex felt like. And having it when she wanted to, whenever she liked it, and when it felt good to her. It was just as important as everything else.

She fell asleep. Within minutes after he fell to the side of her and wrapped her in his arms, she simply fell asleep. He sighed. This wasn’t like a normal relationship. He didn’t get to celebrate having sex with her and wonder when they could again. He couldn’t get up and go to work while making plans for when they could go out next. He didn’t live here and neither did she. She had just escaped her abusive husband and was a fugitive from her previous life. And he was nothing. There was no room in her life now for him. He would be the mistake she erroneously made. He would be the result of her not thinking right.

The thing was: he didn’t care. He was glad they did it. After realizing how vicious Elliot was and how despondent her life with him had been, Noah wondered if perhaps all of her experiences were horrible. If so, then maybe he managed to let her feel one pleasurable thing. And perhaps, he proved that some touching was good. Maybe for a small moment in her tortured life, she realized she was worth loving, and caring about, and wanting to please and make feel good. So what if he broke his own heart in the process? It was broken as soon as she left to return with Elliot. He knew he had fallen in love with a married woman, and even worse, one who endured the circumstances that Lindsey did. There might not be a happy ending. But if he only managed to make her life a little less traumatized, then it was the right thing to do.

He slowly disentangled himself from her and slipped into the shower. He dressed quickly, thinking Gretchen would be home soon. She didn’t need to know about it. Or have an opinion about it. She wasn’t there. Maybe no one could understand what happened today. But if anyone
had experienced Lindsey’s pain as he had, or sensed how much Lindsey longed for a normal, healthy experience, they would have acted as he had. He would have done
anything
to make Lindsey feel better.

Gretchen came in a half hour later and asked about Lindsey. Noah said she’d been up for a while and they talked before she went back to bed. Almost the truth.

Now, the thing he had trouble picturing was how to face Lindsey?

Lindsey awoke the next morning at a more reasonable hour. She glanced at the clock and saw it was six a.m. Looking down at her body, she realized she was still naked. A blush heated her skin as she remembered why, and all the wonderful things that happened. Things she’d never done or felt before. She pulled the covers up higher and burrowed in. It was supposed to be a mistake, so it
was
a mistake. But one she needed to make. She just couldn’t imagine how she would face Noah now.

She did, however, feel that she completely owed Gretchen an explanation; and she needed to find some answers to her situation, instead of cowering in bed. It was time to quit playing the role of the catatonic, simpleton she’d become lately. It was time for answer, actions, and a definite plan.

She rose from the bed. When did Noah leave? How did she sleep through it? What should she say to him? How could she even look him in the eyes again?

She showered finally, since it had been a few days. She dried her hair, and started styling it as she always did. An
updo. An elegant, classy, version of the same, dated updo.

She stared in the mirror. She seemed too skinny and too pale. Her skin had a sickly, yellow color, which Noah could only have ignored because of the low illumination. Maybe some blush would help. She rifled through Gretchen’s bathroom cabinets, thinking she owed Gretchen not only some money, but everything else before this was all over. She hesitated at finding the scissors and glanced at her reflection. She squinted her eyes to picture it. No, she’d always worn long hair. It was what everyone commented on. Elliot, he—

No. Wait. Why was she contemplating how Elliot felt about her hair? Or what Elliot would say? For a fleeting second, her brain went right back there. Still, she… couldn’t. She always went to a hairdresser. She could not simply cut her hair. She could not…

Or could she?

She stared down at the blue-handled hair scissors. Then, picking them up, she cautiously held her hair out, closed her eyes, and snipped it. Her mouth popped open as she beheld the six-inch hunk of ash-blond hair between her fingertips.
Shit
. She cut her hair. She looked up in the mirror.

She cut her hair.
She grabbed the next chunk, and cut more. This time, it made her smile wider, so she did it again. Then a hearty laugh escaped her throat. By the time she sheared off all her hair, she was actually giggling. She was giddy over knowing she cut her hair off! Never mind that it looked hideous, as she had no skills in the field of cosmetology. It now reached her chin, and appeared quite uneven all the way around. But she did it. She did it mostly because… it was
her
fucking hair! She could ruin it if she chose to. She set the scissors down on the counter and smiled at her new reflection. Yes, she could ruin her hair if she wanted to!