Open Eyes (Open Skies) (10 page)

“Maybe some tea?” he asked.

“No, thank you.”

He came to her now and joined her on the sofa. He settled back and waited.

On the short drive over, Vicky had struggled with herself for a brief moment about just how much to tell Phil. In the end, she decided to tell him everything – to just lay it all out at his feet. The thought was simultaneously liberating and terrifying.

She looked in to his eyes, eyes that were so warm and kind; eyes that had seen more than their fair share of trouble and hardship.

If anyone is going to understand, it will be him.

Vicky took a deep breath and she told him the truth. She told him everything.

**

Phil listened to Vicky. The words she was saying froze him clear through.

The thought that anyone had hit this woman even
once
made him furious. But hearing that her husband –
her
own
husband!
– had been the one to hit her, and hit her, and hit her made Phil inarticulate with rage. He’d been expecting to hear that her past was something like this, but the extent and duration of the violence took his breath away. Phil wanted to track this fucker Carl down and beat him until he was a skid-mark on the side of the road.

It would be worth going back to jail for, I swear it.

She sat bolt upright, not meeting his eyes, staring at her hands, her fingers twisting over and over on themselves. He wanted to take those hands, hold them still and close, but he didn’t touch her. He expected her to cry, but she was so cold and matter-of-fact, it scared him a bit. He didn’t say a word, though. Phil just sat and listened and the horror and anger washed over him like a cold wave.

She finished talking and sat, limp and exhausted. Carrying those secrets and experiences around had been a weight that she just didn’t want anymore, he knew. By telling him, she had finally set that burden down. He thought she could probably fly, if she wanted to.

Vicky raised her eyes to Phil’s for the first time and she was startled at the blaze of hot anger she saw in them. She knew that kind of anger – it was what she had always seen in Carl’s eyes just before the violence began. She blinked, shocked to see Phil exhibit it.

She looked again, and now Phil was back. That anger wasn’t directed at her, she knew.

“Vicky,” he said. “I am so sorry.”

“Me too.”

“Are you sure he doesn’t know where you and Sonia and your Mom are?”

“I’m sure. We were as careful as it was possible to be. We planned every move for weeks. And we talk every day, just to check in.”

He nodded.

She looked at him. “And what – what do you think? About me?”

“What do you mean?”

“About being stupid and weak for all those years, and for breaking the law…”

“Oh, my God, Vicky. You were not weak – you were strong. Strong enough to make it through. And what you did, to get Sonia away? I don’t care how you did it… I’m just glad you did it.” He paused. “I grew up in an abusive household, you know. I wouldn’t wish it on any child.”

“I know.”

He moved closer to her. “And how are you now?”

“Me?”

“Yes.” He reached out and touched her face. “Are you – are you getting past it?”

“I have nightmares sometimes, but not so often now,” she said slowly. “About him finding me. About things that he – he did. Beatings that were especially bad. And sometimes, I dream about…about the things he forced me to do – in bed. All the times that he – he…”

She fell silent, not quite able to say the word ‘rape’ out loud.

He knew what she meant, though. “Do you think you can be with a man? That way, I mean?”

She looked at him with those amazing eyes. “The right man, yes. A good man, a gentle man? Yes.” She swallowed, gathering her courage to say what she really wanted. “With
you
, yes.”

Vicky took a deep breath.
There.
She’d said it all, every single thing that she wanted to tell Phil. She wanted him; she wanted him to show her what lovemaking really was.

His heart pounded in his chest. She was so brave and sweet and beautiful, and he wanted to take her to his bed, make her feel safe and cherished. But was she truly ready?

“Do you trust me, Vicky? Trust me to be good to you?”

“Yes,” she said simply.

Phil took her face in both of his hands. “Tell me the truth now. Do you want to make love with me? Right now?”

Vicky stared at him, lust curling in her stomach. She looked in to those deep green eyes, so kind and steady and warm, and she whispered, “Yes.”

He stood up and extended his hand to her. “Come on.”

Her knees shaking, Vicky took his hand and got to her feet. He led her to the bedroom and then he paused. “Listen, honey. If you want to slow down or stop, you tell me. OK?”

Her throat too dry to speak, she nodded.

He approached her now, taking measured steps.
Careful now. Don’t scare her
. He undid the buttons of her cardigan slowly, watching her face for any signs of fear. He peeled the material from her shoulders and reached for the waistband of her shirt. He pulled it out of her skirt, running his hands over her naked back.

Vicky gasped as his rough hands skimmed over her skin so lightly. Phil smiled, then leaned down for a kiss. His mouth was fire and his tongue ran over her lower lip, tasting her. She reached forward blindly and her open hands made contact with his chest.
My God, he’s so strong
.

Phil lifted her cotton shirt over her head and she raised her arms. Her breasts were right in front of him now, soft and curved. He leaned forward slowly and kissed around them, large circles that got smaller as he moved closer to her nipples.

She couldn’t believe what she was feeling. Carl had never engaged in any foreplay – not ever. Vicky had always assumed that was normal, and thought that the movies and TV were making it all up. What was the
point
of foreplay, really? What was all the fuss about?

Well, now she knew: her body was slowly heating up and opening, becoming loose and pliant. She was twisting in his arms, contorting her body at his touch. Her breath was speeding up, her back was arching of its own accord. She was melting, turning to a giant puddle of honey, right on the spot.

Phil nipped her throat gently, then took her shoulders and started to turn her around so he could undo the zipper on her skirt.

Vicky froze. “No! Stop!”

“What’s wrong?” Phil was alarmed at the panic in her eyes. “Vicky, what?”

She shook her head, starting to shake.

“Have you changed your mind?” Phil stroked her hair. “It’s OK if you have.”

“I – I don’t know.”

“OK, honey. Tell me what’s upsetting you.”

“You’re going to see them. My scars, from the whip. They’re so – so ugly.” Tears spilled out of her eyes now and rolled down her cheeks.

Phil took a deep breath and wiped the tears away with his thumbs.
That fucking bastard
. “Do you want to see my scars first?”

“Your scars?”

“Yes.” He smiled at her. “You know about my life, Vicky. I’ve been beaten and involved in gang violence and I’ve been in more bar and prison fights than I can count. I’ve got a few scars of my own.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” He grasped the back of his t-shirt and yanked it over his head. “Take a look.”

Vicky found herself staring at the broadest, most muscular chest she had ever seen in her life. He had a smattering of dark hair and a strong collarbone and defined abs, and at the sight of all this, her body responded so strongly, she almost felt dizzy.

Phil took her hand and laid it on his shoulder. “This is where I was stabbed in a bar parking lot.” Her fingers ran over the scar, rubbing it. He moved her hand across his incredible chest. “A bullet wound from a drive-by shooting when I was nineteen. And this is where one of my mother’s boyfriend burned me with a cigarette when I was seven.”

He ran her hands all over his body – front and back – and her fingers traced the map of his life. She read violence and hurt and pain on his body, and she wanted more than anything to take it all away, to wipe the map clean.

She saw him suddenly as a small boy with dark hair and clear eyes, staring up at her, hurt and confused and alone in the world. And yet again, she wasn’t sorry for what she had done – for taking Sonia out and away. In that moment, she knew that she would never be sorry.

He had his back to her now, showing her where his mother had whipped him with a belt. The buckle had left deep scars along his left side. Vicky was overwhelmed by a feeling of tenderness as she touched the white, raised skin. Before she even knew what she was doing, she leaned forward and kissed his back, kissed those marks of pain.

Phil shuddered as her soft lips met his skin. Acting from instinct only, she moved across his back now, kissing and licking, her hot mouth blazing a trail of fire across his body. She reached around to his front, running her fingers over his pecs. He grasped her one hand in both of his, clamped it on his chest over his heart. He closed his eyes.

Making up her mind now, Vicky let go of Phil and he faced her, questioning. In one movement, she turned around, showing him her back, with all its years of damage. She held her breath.

Phil surveyed her slim body. The rage was building in him again, and he fought to stay calm.
That fucker. I just have to meet him once. Just give me five minutes with him, I swear
.

Her delicate skin was covered in long, thin scars; they crisscrossed over her back and shoulders. He ran his hand over them gently and shook his head. So much hurt, so much fear. No wonder she had run and not looked back.

“They’re awful, I know.” Her voice was barely above a whisper. “They’re disgusting.”

“No, babe.” He kissed her shoulders, ran his tongue over her flesh. She gasped. “They show me what you’re come through, what you’ve survived. You’re strong. Beautiful.”

Startled, she turned to face him and examined his face. He was telling the truth, she saw. He didn't think that she was ugly or weak.

He smiled at her and pulled her in to his arms. She went willingly, no hesitation or second thoughts now. She wanted him; she wanted this. She met his kiss and as it deepened, she responded, her tongue in his mouth, her hands on his back, pulling him to her body.

Phil undid the zipper and the skirt fell to the floor. Vicky stood in front of him in a pair of lace mocha panties and his cock hardened at the sight. Her thighs were creamy and smooth, her stomach rounded and soft. She had a cesarean scar and he ran his rough fingers over it, loving that she had brought a daughter in to the world. He gripped her hips and pulled her closer, felt her hardened nipples against his chest.

His hands glided across her back and undid her bra clasp. He threw it on the bedside table and she felt a burst of heat in her chest; it felt like her heart was exploding. He ran his thumbs over her breasts and she held her breath. Pleasure, deep and thick, was rolling over her and she wasn’t sure at all what would happen next.

Phil lowered his head to her breasts and flicked his tongue over the rosy tips. Vicky moaned deep in her throat and clutched his head, holding him closer. He licked and sucked her breasts, pulling them in to his mouth, moving back and forth.

Now his hands moved lower, past her stomach, past the top of her underwear. He paused.

“Is this OK, Vicky?”

“Yes.” Between her legs felt wet and hot and open. “Yes.”

Slowly, he pulled the wisp of lace down over her thighs, down her legs. He knelt in front of her and she closed her eyes as she felt his breath on her pussy
. My God. This feels so – so different. So good.

Phil stood up again and put his hand between their bodies, cupping her sex in his large palm. Vicky gave a low scream, surprised at her body’s response.

“Phil!”

“I’ve got you, honey. It’s going to feel good, I promise you.”

His finger was between the folds of her lips now, stroking her. She was soaking wet and he loved it. He moved closer to her clit slowly, not wanting the sensations to be too much too soon.

Vicky was stunned at what her body was doing, what it was letting her feel. Phil’s finger was inside her now and her legs trembled. He went deeper, pressing on the hard knot between her legs at the same time. Her pussy pulsed; she felt the muscles jump and spasm. She threw her head back and gasped.

Unable to wait much longer, Phil took off his jeans with clumsy hands, his fingers fumbling with the snap and zipper. When she saw him for the first time, her eyes widened in shock. He was long and thick and hard and she was sure there was no way she’d be able to take him in to her body.

He saw the fear in her eyes. “Touch me, babe.”

“What?”

“Touch me.” He gently took her hand in his and put it on him. “Don’t be afraid of me, OK? Feel me.”

Her hand slid up and down his thick shaft, slowly at first. As she gained confidence and she saw his pleasure, she started to stroke him faster. Faster.

“Will you – will you hurt me?”

“No,” he said. “No. Your body will open to me, Vicky. It wants me there, it’ll let me in.”

She nodded, trusting him.

He sat down in the massive leather chair next to the window and pulled her body on to his lap facing him. Her thighs were spread on him and he felt her juices, warm and sweet. He rubbed the tip of his sex against her lips, against the opening of her pussy, and she jerked.

“Phil… what… oh, God. It feels good.”

“I know, honey. For me too.”

He took the condom from the bedside table drawer and opened it. He rolled it down the length of his hardness and she watched, breathless, wondering how it would feel to have Phil inside of her. Carl had only ever had sex with her in the missionary position, and Vicky had never even thought about trying things another way. Being the one on top – the one in control – felt different. It felt better.

He moved her closer and placed her knees on either side of him on the chair. He kissed her. “Are you ready, Vicky?”