Authors: Kimber S. Dawn
But as I lay beside my wife, just before the sun rises, I listen to the sound of her breathing in her sleep and what I do feel is anger.
And it isn’t last night I think about as anger courses through my veins while I wait for sleep to pull me under. It isn’t Summer split wide in front of my minds eye, as I pummel my cock into her that wrecks havoc on my mental state.
It’s my Lexy.
My Lexy the first few times I learned the wonderland that is her body.
My Lexy in all her beautiful uncertain beauty.
It’s my Lexy that’s there as I drift asleep and rest settles into my bones, it’s my beautiful wife I dream of desecrating.
When I awoke, I wasn’t surprised to see Liam still asleep. Around one in the morning, I awoke to find him still gone. And less than an hour later, I awoke to the sound of him in the bathroom before slipping into bed.
So no, when the sun rose this morning, I wasn’t in the least bit surprised to see my husband still sleeping soundly.
After quietly slipping from bed and making my way downstairs to the kitchen, I busy myself with my daily morning routine. When I've situated Liam's coffee mug off to the side of the Keurig and sprinkled just the right amount of sugar, one and a half teaspoons, no more, no less, into his cup, I go about making my own cup. Once my hands are filled with a warm mug, I step out onto the back trellis overlooking the grounds under the kitchen’s picture windows and settle onto one of the chaise lounges occupying the patio area. I smile as I listen to the rest of the world wake up; the birds chirping their morning songs and their chorus causes calm to settle around me.
I love these quiet times. They’ve been a necessity for as long as I can remember. When I was a child, a teenager, and obviously even now, I’ve always felt centered in these few morning moments before the rest of the world wakes up.
As a child, I needed it to get away from my mother in the morning. No matter which husband it was, one of them was already up and gone before the sun rose, and that meant it was time for me to listen to the details of every conversation the two of them shared the day before and what exactly the meaning behind it was.
Right. I know. Every one of her husbands’ parting words to me was, ‘Lexy. Be thankful you have the patience of Job, you have a hard, long time ahead of you.’ Or something to that affect.
Then, after Liam and I were married, I found myself waking up early out of habit. In the beginning of our marriage, I tried to stay in bed late. I’d wake up a good thirty minutes early to do some pre-wake up primping, but after only a few months, that shit got old. And laying there beside him, listening to him breathe while he slept, didn’t last much longer.
The time only measures to an hour. But it’s an hour that carries me through the rest of the day. One hour before the sun rises. Me and my cup of coffee, lost in my thoughts.
It helps me prepare for the day ahead and tuck in the days before. It’s a meditative moment of reflection, that is honestly, probably the spine of my marriage. I do better with Liam if I thoroughly think through our interactions and conversations, as ridiculous as it sounds, and yes—I realize I’m doing almost exactly what my mother did growing up. But take it from me, if I want my marriage to work—my
to work, with Liam, it’s time well-needed.
And time well-spent, every morning.
I remember my mother and I’s conversation from the day before yesterday, and it causes my stomach to knot with anxiety. I don’t want to have to ask Liam if Mother can visit. I want her to just drop in like she did last time and the time before. But I don’t want to have to explain it to my mother when she asks why I ask her to just drop in,
She doesn’t like Liam, but she knows what’s good…for me. And he’s good for me. He’s good to me. He loves me, and I love him. Even if he is one of
people. Those people who are so big, they’re bigger than life. They are intense. Extreme. And loving them is too. So much so, that it requires deliberate meditation, if you will.
When I remember the pregnancy test he’s going to want again in five days, dread fills the pit of my stomach.
I’ve never been pregnant, but something tells me I would feel it if I were. And I know I’m not. I knew I wasn’t before I took the last test, just like I know I’m not now.
But whatever Liam says, I do.
And not because I’m a pushover, I don’t want you to have that impression of me. I do know how to stand up for myself. I’ve done it many times.
Just…not usually with Liam.
My mother has always accused me of being a pushover. Of having a bleeding heart.
So—so if when this story ends, and you believe the same, then that’ll swing the jury vote.
I’ll admit it to myself.
As I continue to sip from my warm mug, lost in thought, I sit out on the trellis while absorbing the first doses of emotions I’ll encounter today unpacking with my new friend and my husband. I know he won’t be here the entire day. And I know he won’t be standing over us, watching our every move. But still, I hope for the best. Prepare for the worst.
As the sun begins creeping up into the sky, as the pinks and blues mix, making the pink-blue sky a new color, anxiety begins to raise it’s ugly head when different scenarios including how Liam finds out I knew Mary was pregnant and kept it from him run through my mind. I’m damn near hyperventilating when Liam’s husky sleep-laden voice makes me jump two inches from my seat and scream like a nine-year-old.
“Baby girl, whatcha out here thinking about?”
I laugh behind my hand covering my mouth when our eyes meet in the dusk. “You scared me to death.” I whisper.
He smirks and looks down, and I get a glimpse of the boy I fell in love with so many years ago.
His hair has grown out, I’m sure he has an appointment today or tomorrow to have it cut by the length it is right now. It’s only a little bit shorter than when we first starting dating. Just long enough to cover his eyes when he looks down, smirking like he is this minute.
“Didn’t mean to scare you, baby girl. Just wanted to tell you good morning and that I love you.” He chuckles and when his dark topaz eyes hit mine, I fall head over heels for my husband all over again as butterflies take flight.
Damn, I love him.
“I love you too, Liam,” I whisper around a smile as I shiver away chills.
He saunters over to me and cups my face in his hands and leans down over me, brushing his lips across my head. When his lips meet my ear, his husky voice tells me, “Stand up and put your arms around my neck.”
I do as I’m told, and when his warm arms circle my waist and chase away the chill of the morning, I smile and look up at my beautiful husband.
I feel his hard thighs against mine and take a step back, only to be stopped by the stone wall behind me. His lips brush my ear, and I smell the faint scent of mint when he whispers, “Baby girl, I’m going to fuck the shit out of you against that wall. Is that understood?”
A whimper escapes my lips and I wince, only slightly, before zeroing my eyes on Liam’s and firmly nodding once while muttering, “Y-yes. Understood.”
Before I have time to think, much less process what’s happening, his flannel pj’s are pushed down his thighs and he has me hoisted up against the brick wall, legs spread, pussy bare to the morning light. As his forehead connects with my cheek, his teeth bite down hard on the flesh of my neck and shoulder, and he growls against my face, “First you’re going to suck the cunt off my cock.” I feel his warm cock slide against my bare wetness, and if I had an ounce of shame, you’d never know my name. I hate when my body tells on itself.
As the words Liam spoke circle my brain the second time, his arms release my thighs and I abruptly slide down the stone wall. My knees smack the brick paver floor, and I’m forced to bite down on my lip to stop the yelp lodged in my throat.
His rough hands sink into my hair and jerk, sending my face up to his. “You bite your lip, baby girl?” I nod blankly and watch as a sinister smirk dances across his beautiful face. “Figured.” He chuckles.
There is a lesson in all of this.
This is a riddle.
I know my husband, and I know when there is something I missed. And there is something I have missed. And now there is a lesson to be learned.
I just don’t know what it is, nor will I until he decides it’s time for it to be revealed.
So as I wait for him to decide, I play along. I smile as beautifully as I can at Liam, and I guess it does the trick because it catches his eye. And for a second—just a split second—I see the man I love and cherish. Then I don’t see him anymore. Then I’m left with the man towering over me with a devil’s grin on his face as he shoves his cock against my mouth.
I open like a good girl. Perform to the best of my stage-worthy ability.
And just like always, when I’m close to questioning my performance, he slides his hand around my bottom until his fingertips reach my clit and then he runs circle eights around it until I forget I had a job to do in this too.
I catch myself from trying to lean against him the faster his fingers work, but when he sinks one in so deep it touches my womb, I lose whatever coherent thought I possessed.
In the next second, I’m standing straight up, but not on my own, when my silk night gown billows around my feet, and I’m being spun around until my face is against the stone wall.
His presence is overwhelming behind me, and I shudder as his warm cock slides between my legs. Right about the time I feel his mouth smile against my shoulder, his cock reaches the wet mess he left behind and he growls.
I don’t know if you’ve ever experienced conflicting emotions, but it’s tiring. Exhausting to the point of preferring torture, almost. And my marriage, is a smorgasbord of conflicting emotions; as I’m sure you’ve noticed.
But in summary, I love my husband. Not the man every one sees every day. Not the big bad stock broker for Jackson’s. No. Very few people know the person I love.
The man I love grew up without any real love or affection. Then when he was just a baby boy, he had his world and heart broken by his mother’s illness. Only to be finished being raised by one of the most competitive men I’ve met in my life. I love the sweet Liam.
I deal, or co-habitat with the other one. With this one.
“So fucking sexy. God dammit, woman.” His teeth sink into my neck the moment his cock sinks into me…deep.
A moan shoves it’s way from my throat, and I shove back against him as much as I can, harder, faster. “Oh God,” I think I mutter.
As his fingertips bite down on my hips he slams me back with just the right force, and my eyes cross behind my lids. “You like that, baby girl?” His words end in a grunt. When he reaches his arm around my waist and his fingers find my clit, they rub it so hard it hurts so good, and I’m spiraling down the crescendo seconds later, completely useless to stop his fingers from their ministrations.
I feel his warm cum inside me, and it sets off another round of fireworks.
When I come to, I’m shivering when I feel his arms circle my shoulders and under my legs as he scoops me up and heads through the trellis doors and into the kitchen.
“Cold?” His quiet steady voice anchors me.
And I’m glad the relaxed chuckling Liam went with his copulation. The straight-forward Liam is much easier to read. “I am.” I nod and smile as my thoughts race.
What if he already knows about Mary being pregnant? Maybe Liam knows Charles, maybe anything. If it is, Liam will know. Maybe it’s best I just start talking. Just say what I know and get it over with.
As I go to speak, my husbands steady voice derails my train of thought, “I’ll get us a nice warm bath started. I’d like to bathe you in our bath for the first time, I think that’d be oddly romantic.”
“Me too,” I agree and rest my head on his chest as he continues to carry me through the house and upstairs to our room. When we’re close to the bed he sets me on my feet and pulls my cashmere robe from the foot of the bed up before draping it across my shoulders and squeezing. His lips brush my forehead and he whispers, “Be right back.” He walks to the bathroom and seconds later I hear the water being turned on and the tub filling. As I stand in the spot he left me in, I look around the room, now lit with morning light. I see his clothes laying on top of the shoes he wore yesterday, and I briefly wonder why he was out so late, but when he walks from the bathroom in only his birthday suit and a funny look on his face, I laugh.
“What?” he asks chuckling. “Which one is my favorite? The red or the green?” He holds up my little bottles of bath bubbles.
“The clear. You don’t want the girly stuff.”
After we have the water doctored just right, he slides in first to help me in. Leaning back against his chest, I decide to abort operation ‘smooth over’.
Just to be safe.
“How’d you find Mary? You never mentioned it before.” I glance over my shoulder and smile for extra convincing points. “I do love her, by the way. She’s done such a wonderful job already.”