Berserk Page 8

  When she’s quiet I close my eyes and almost crawl back off her, but I don’t. Instead I put my foot down. “One more chance, Blue. I’m asking for it, one more chance. Let me prove myself.”

  She opens her big blue eyes and my heart starts to race. This is it, it’s now or never. “You hurt me,” she says.

  “I know.”

  “No,” she says. “You don’t. I’ll always be that girl, the one from the streets, that’s who I am. You’ll always be the guy who’s had everything and went slumming when he met me. After all of the bombs you’ve dropped on me, I’ll always be waiting for another to go off. How do I know which bombs are dummies and which are real? I’m not going to be led around by my emotions Max. I can’t.”

  “I was the guy who had nothing until he met you. The day I met you I finally had everything, and I let it go because I wasn’t man enough to fight. I didn’t know how, but you can teach me. Let me fucking fight now, Blue.”

  “Why now? What’s changed?”

  “Bishop.”

  “Bishop?”

  “Set me straight,” I explain. “I get it, all of it. I’m not jealous of him anymore; I’m glad you had him when I wasn’t there. But I’m here now, let me back in. Teach me, Blue, teach me everything.”

  “I don’t want you to get hurt,” she whispers. “Can’t you get that? Did you see Bishop? No. No, Max, let me up. You were right, I have to go. We’ve destroyed each other enough.”

  Throwing her back down on her back, I guess it’s time for Plan B. Pinning her down, my nice giving nature stops and my cold, calculating nature kicks in. “You can get up when I tell you it’s time to ride me.”

  Just with one command she settles. No way I would believe it if I didn’t see it for myself. Jesus Christ, how did I never see this before? Pulling her toward me by her ankles I wrap her legs around me, then I pull her up and onto my lap.

  “Tilt your neck to the right,” I command her. She slowly lets her shoulder drop and her neck follows, but she keeps her eyes on me. Leaning in I kiss her exposed shoulder until she whimpers. “Grab your tits for me, Blue. Work them for me.” She fills her tiny hands with her tits, she rubs them, pulls them, and lifts them up. “Higher,” I order. “I want them in my mouth now.” She positions herself to offer her tits to me and using just my mouth I suck her tiny pink nipples, then gently bite each one. When he head rolls back I give her another order. “Stay with me.”

  Snapping her head back up and locking eyes she does as she’s told. Taking my hands I run them between her legs, feeling how damp she is for me, for this. Her look is pleading, she wants to touch back but doesn’t know if she should. “I want my cock in your hands.” I order her and she slowly undoes my belt, reaches in and grabs a hold. My own head wants to roll back because fuck it’s been so long without those hands but I fight it.

  “Tug it,” I order her. “Hard.”

  Biting her lip, she does as she’s told. In return I spread her open and work her, too. The more I work her the tighter her legs get around me. The harder she works me, the more I pump into her hand. Wanting this to last, I give her more orders. “On your back, knees open, hands above your head.” Ridding myself of my jeans, pulling her pants and bottoms off all at once, I crawl back between those legs and balance my weight on top of her. Looking in her eyes, I see she’s waiting for direction; she’s getting off on this as much as I am. I want to fuck her into the box spring, but I want to make love to her more. Back then our time was always limited, so we fucked because it was all we had time for; now we have time, and I want to use it relearning her.

  “Close your eyes.” When she does, I lean in slowly, sucking her bottom lip between my teeth. “I cannot tell you with words how much I missed this, us. Will you let me show you?”

  Nodding and biting that damn lip again, I can’t wait any longer to be joined with her, slow and easy for once. Trailing my hands up and down her thighs, she shivers, parting them further. When she’s fully open to me, I make her another promise. Taking two fingers and working them in, I tell her, “My mouth misses your taste. It might be tonight, it might not be, but I’m going to get back in there, Blue.”

  When she says nothing I look up, focus on her, and see she’s smiling. It’s not just any smile, it’s that smile. The one that says she trusts me to please her and not to hurt her. Removing my fingers I stretch my hand up to her. “Open,” I demand. When she does I slide both fingers in and she latches on, sucking with greed. “Stop,” I say and her mouth opens with a pop. Aligning myself with her I slide in, using my left hand while using my right to anchor myself by wrapping my hand around her neck and pulling her up. Working my cock and my tongue, she takes both with eagerness.

  Trying to go slow and make this last for as long as humanly possible, I pull out, slide back in, and repeat this at least a dozen times when I hear her moans turn to growls. “Need more cock?” I ask her.

  Biting my lip hard, digging her blunt nails in deeper, I pick up my pace. Instead of sliding I’m slamming, and instead of growls she’s groaning. Fuck, but this plan is backfiring in a big way. Big as in I want to explode inside of her and stay there. “It’s time to ride me,” I order, flipping our positions. She doesn’t argue, but at this point I don’t expect her to. She’s above me now, and taking her all in makes my chest hurt. My wife, here with me, letting me touch her, give her orders, and in a minute or so watching her come. When she slides down we both moan. Grabbing her hips she lets me work her over me back and forth. She balances her weight on my chest while she bobs up and down on my cock, and the pleasure is unreal because our eyes are locked and that somehow made it more intense. When she starts to slow, I arch my ass up and stay raised up on my heels. Fucking her in upward strokes she holds onto my shoulders and pushes back. “Gonna come,” I tell her, “But you need to come first.”

  Giving her no time to reconsider I roll her to the side, pulling her back to my front. Sliding back in I grip one hip with my right and curl her hair around my left, pulling her head back and taking her mouth. The second our mouths meet I started drilling her in earnest; she gives it back even harder. She reaches both arms up and pulls my hair fucking hard. Then I feel it, I feel her pussy starting to clamp down and milk me, so when she starts screaming into my mouth I empty myself inside her while groaning into hers. Seconds, minutes, days… Doesn’t matter. What matters is I have my wife back, and nothing is taking her away from me again.

  My wife was born a solider. It’s about fucking time I became one, too.

  “You look beautiful,” he says, standing in the doorway.

  “I look fat,” I mumble.

  “If you looked fat, I’d say you looked fat.”

  “Thanks, Bishop.”

  “You feelin’ good now?”

  “Yes,” I say, smiling. “Much better, thanks”

  “You’re still pale,” he says, looking me over, noticing I’m wearing makeup and actually tried to do my own hair for once. “Whoever he is, he better fucking know he hurts you, he’s gonna be dealing with me.”

  Standing on my toes and kissing him on the cheek, I whisper, “I’m scarier than you, Bishop.”

  If you looked up glutton for punishment you’d see my face next to the definition. Laying here next to him, sharing air and space, I don’t even care if I just made the biggest mistake of my life. The fact is, I love my husband. When this is all over and I have to leave, I’ll do so still loving him. Because loving him is all I know. Maybe that’s why I stick around, waiting to see how many ways we can fuck this up. I don’t know what marriage is like. I never made his lunches or nursed him back to health after a cold. I’ve never done his laundry or figured out his bad habits. All I ever wanted was to do wife things, only I don’t know what they are. I just wanted the chance to try. I promise myself I’ll enjoy him while I’m here. I’m not normally a selfish person, but for now I’m taking it.

  He’s playing with my hair and humming to me. He does that when he’s in deep thought; I for
got about that. So turning toward him I ask him what’s on his mind, and he wastes no time in telling me.

  “With training,” he starts. “Do I stand a chance at having your back?”

  “Yes. But I’ve got to cram years of training into weeks, so you’re going to need to rely on your instincts.”

  “My instincts have failed me on three occasions, Blue,” he says. “I’m not so sure relying on those is the best idea.”

  “Explain.”

  “When this shit started some thugs came in looking for Venessa, worked me over, and in the end took Macy and still got a hold of Venessa. Almost killed her twice.”

  “I heard about that,” I tell him. “That weighs on you, I can see it. But the actions of others are not your fault. What else is weighing on you, Max?”

  “Rafe asked me to keep an eye on Macy, but I was so focused on you that I dropped the ball there too, and look what happened.”

  “That was my fault,” I explain. “I distracted you.”

  “No,” he says. “The fault was mine. Then I spent days trying to find you and when I do, you know what I saw. I saw a man beating Bishop with a crowbar, Blue. A man trying to get to you. When you needed me I didn’t show, when they needed me I wasn’t there, and now you need me again and I have to know that I won’t fuck this up. Someone tried to kill my wife. I find myself wanting to kill the bastard who tried to hurt you.”

  “Max,” I whisper. “Those are your instincts. Trust them. Look, I’m going to give it to you honest.” When he nods I continue. “You’re a giant. A gentle one, yes, but you have size that most don’t. You have to learn to embrace it, use it, intimidate with it. You have sheer brute strength that you don’t tap into, and that’s okay, there’s nothing wrong with that. My concern is when you do, I won’t be able to get you to dial it back down. You are the most controlled person I know, and I know what control is, but when we go forward I’m not your wife.” When he tries to argue I stop him. “Max, I’m not. I’m your partner, an extension of you. You can’t let your feelings cloud your judgment. If you do, you or me or probably both of us won’t make it.”

  “Have you been wounded before?” he asks. “In battle?”

  Taking his hand to my shoulder I run his fingers over the pucker on my shoulder blade “Gunshot wound, 9mm round shot at close range. Drug raid gone bad.” Moving his hand to my rib cage, “Stabbed with a blunt object, I found out later it was a spoon. I was really pissed to have gotten stabbed with a rusty spoon, let me tell you. I still haven’t lived that one down.” Moving his hand again I trace it over the back of my neck. “I was undercover; needless to say, my informant fucked me, and before my team could get there I was choked with phone cord. My hands protected my throat, but not the back of my neck.” Holding his hands in mine I tell him the absolute truth. “Max, these are the wounds you can see. Most of the wounds I carry around with me no one can see.”

  “What about this one?” he asks, touching the small scar above my eyebrow.

  “One of my mother’s boyfriend’s didn’t care for my smart mouth.”

  “He hit you?”

  “He has one to match, trust me.”

  “I don’t know how I never noticed it before. How do you do it?”

  “I’m good at it, Max,” I tell him. “It’s all I know.”

  “Does it ever get easier?”

  “I’d tell you that you get used to it,” I say. “But you don’t. The second you get immune to it, you’d be too dead to notice.”

  “I can’t lose you, Blue,” he says. “Not when I just got you back. I’m sorry I pushed you away; I wanted to keep you safe. I didn’t know what else to do.”

  Swallowing back the tears, I give him the most truth I can. “I can make you into a killer, Max,” I tell him. “I see it down in there, and I’m afraid that you’ll hate me for it.”

  “Why?”

  “Why? Because you may just like it.”

  Pulling me to him I rest my head on his solid chest. We stay like that for a while. Talking about everything and nothing, working on rebuilding our connection, and maybe even making up for lost time. I’d like to say my walls were firmly in place, but they weren’t. In any situation where he is concerned my walls are made of glass and he has the means to see right through them, and with just a touch has the strength to shatter them.

  And he did.

  “Blue, it’s me,” I tell her answering machine, in case she doesn’t know. “I need to explain why I didn’t come. Let me explain; just pick up the phone if you’re there.”

  “Blue,” I groan. “Enough’s enough; answer the phone, dammit.”

  “Blue, where the fuck are you?”

  Staring at the receiver in utter misery, I debated grabbing a flight or renting a car. Anything to see her and explain why. But she wasn’t returning my calls or emails and my wife was not the type of person to hold out. If she had something to say she said it. However, I knew at this very moment her not saying anything, told me everything.

  She was done.

  Last night after hours of talking it hit me that she and I have never dated. It also hit me that she never once complained about it, either. The time we had was always on a tight schedule so we spent it ordering in, catching up, and on top of each other. Making a reservation for two, I decided tonight I was taking her out for our first date. Bringing it up to her over breakfast I thought she’d turn me down, but she didn’t. She lit up. You’d think I told her I found Hoffa’s body, not that we were eating out, but that’s Jules for you.

  When she asked where we were going I told her it was a surprise so when she asked what to wear I told her to go comfortable. She thought on that for a while, but decided to run to the mall to get something fancier than jeans. Picking Macy up the two of them were able to do girl things which she needed. It also gave me time to grab flowers and wash my car. Three hours later she’s home, in the shower and ready within a half hour. When she comes down the steps my jaw drops. She’s magnificent. Jules doesn’t need to dress anything up; her face and hair do all the work for her. My eyes make their way down the length of her dress, and I add her killer body to her list of attributes. My god, does my wife fill out a black dress. No high heels for her, either; a simple pair of ballet slippers has her the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.

  “Well?” she asks, spinning in a circle. “Do I clean up all right?”

  Speechless, I stalk her, dip her, and make love to her mouth. Once she’s gripping me and panting, I break the kiss, standing her back up.

  “Wow,” she says, breathless. “So is that a yes?”

  Dropping to my knees and reaching up under her dress to her lace underwear (if you can call a triangle and floss a garment), I pull them down to her ankles, instructing her with my hands to step out. Once I tuck them in my pocket I look down into her eyes. “That’s a fuck yes.”

  Opening her door, helping her in, and then driving off, we’re quiet until she takes my hand and is the first to speak. “This is my first date,” she says timidly. “Glad it’s with you.”

  “Mine, too, Blue,” I tell her, squeezing her hand tight. “Long overdue, don’t you think?”

  “We’re making up for lost time, Max,” she says. “There are no rules; we can do this however we want.”

  “If the band is playing, will you dance with me tonight?”

  “There’s a band at a restaurant?” she asks. “What kind of place are we going to?”

  Merging onto the freeway I explain where we’re headed. “It’s not just a restaurant; it’s a country club. They serve food, most weekends there’s dancing and a band. I’m usually at the club then, but I hear it’s pretty tame.”

  “Country club?” she asks. “You got us a reservation at a country club? Aren’t reservations for members?”

  “I am a member, Blue.”

  “Oh,” she says, looking out the window, so I decide to turn on the radio and let the DJ fill the silence. Arriving twenty minutes later I help her out whil
e the car is valeted. Taking her arm I guide her to the front entrance, but she’s reluctant to move. She looks leery and very uncomfortable. She continues to touch her hair and dress and then stares at the ground instead of taking it all in. I know once I get her inside she’ll be fine, Jules can adapt to any environment. It’s a country club, not a prison cell; she’ll see that once we’re inside. It looks far more intimidating than it really is.

  Greeting the concierge, we are seated immediately. Jules stays quiet, following my lead, so I order us a bottle of the house wine and an appetizer. When the waiter comes back and pours, I offer up a toast, except after our glasses meet she doesn’t take a sip.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing,” she says, too quiet for my taste. “I’m not much of a drinker; I’ve never taken to wine very well.”

  “I didn’t know that. You can have anything you want, Jules,” I explain slowly. “It doesn’t have to be wine. What do you like?”

  “Jules?”

  “That’s your name, isn’t it?” I ask her, smiling. “We’re in public. You would prefer I call you Blue here?”

  “Jules is fine,” she says, setting her glass down and putting her hands in her lap. Just as I’m about to ask her what’s really wrong, we’re interrupted.

  “Maxwell!” I hear as I’m greeted by a former classmate. I don’t remember his name, but I do remember he’s a total idiot, and pissing me off with his timing. “Introduce me to your date! She must be special, considering you’ve never brought a woman here before.”

  “This is Jules,” I start. “My uh—”

  “Date,” she says, extending her hand when I fumble her introduction. “I’m his date, and you are?”

  “Impressed!” he says, pulling up a chair. “Hank told me you finally cut that other one loose. I admit when I heard you married a homeless girl, I was a tad shocked.”