Sweet Obsession

Her breath came in quick, harsh spurts, which were interrupted when I pulled out of her. She started to move “where are you going?”

“I thought.”

“I know what you thought. Clean me up.” Her eyes went to the wipes I’d placed on the nightstand, and she grabbed them a little more excitedly because she knew what was coming.

She took her time and cleaned my cock well before I lifted her again and dropped her down on my cock, this time going into her sweet young gash. “Oh!” Her body jerked with each powerful thrust of my cock into her. Her breasts will be sore and achy come morning from the rough treatment I gave them, but I’ll give her my mouth, and she’d be fine.

She didn’t seem too worried about it, though, as she fucked herself silly on my rob. The position was no longer working for me, so she ended up on her knees with her face smooshed into the bed as I reamed her from behind. This time I gave her my seed, and she cried out as I filled her belly with sperm.

I pulled out and dropped to my back, leaving her to fall face-first onto the bed. Then my conscience got the better of me, and I dragged her into my arms. “Go to sleep.”

In the morning, she wasn’t as sulky, but she still kept giving me those looks. “Spit it out whatever it is.” Probably expecting me to apologize for the shit she started. I hadn’t turned to her in the night like I usually do, and then against this morning, I’d left the bed before she was even awake, something I haven’t done since we were married. Even when she doesn’t have anything to do that day, I still wake her with sex before going about my day.

I’m not mad at her anymore, I don’t think, and when I think about it, maybe I got a little too heated, but the truth is, the thought of anyone else seeing her, wanting her, the way I do, makes me irrationally angry.

I don’t think she sees herself or knows her appeal, and I have to remind myself that she came to me a virgin. Her sensuality sometimes makes me forget how very innocent she was and still is. She hadn’t said anything to my comment, and I finally turned my head to look at her.

“So, you’re not going to send me away then? I mean, we had sex later, and you… you know.”

“What in the world are you talking about?” It’s a wonder she does so well in school because who knows what the hell goes on in that head of hers.

“You’re not mad anymore?” Wait a minute, did she really think I was going to send her away because I got mad at her? Has she always felt this way?

“Maddie, baby, why would you think that?” My guts knotted as I awaited her answer. If this sweet child tells me that she’s always been afraid all those times over the years when I was a little put out with her, I think it would break my heart, and from the looks of her, that’s exactly what she did.

“Come here.” I pushed back my chair from the table, making room for her to climb into my lap. She was shaking, not much, but I felt it all the same, and my guts twisted themselves into knots. “Do you really think I’d send you away because of a little thing like that, Maddie?” She got even closer, and her arms came around my neck.

She felt like a spring that had been coiled too tight, and I knew she was about to break. I’m sure there’s more going on here, more things that I knew nothing about, things that she’d hidden from me the way she’d hidden Rene’s actions.

I plan to get to the bottom of all of it, but since it’s the holidays and this was her first time back here, I’d planned on waiting until we returned. But I can’t have her going for a minute longer believing that she means so little to me that I’d throw her out for wearing a pair of jeans.

Then it struck me that she should know me better than that. That I’d spent my life trying to make hers as easy as possible, how could she believe it of me? But just as swiftly as my anger rose, it died again. Maybe she doesn’t know. Maybe I’d shown her with things but had kept myself distant, especially in the last year or so.

But hadn’t I explained that to her? That it was because of my growing feelings for her that I’d stayed away? Maybe the cut is too deep for a Band-Aid. But how do I get her to hear me this time since she hasn’t seemed to have heard me the last hundred times I told her I loved her.