Vivienne's Guilt (22 page)

“Oh God,” I moan when he yanks my strapless bra down, taking one of my nipples into his mouth and circling it with his tongue. My head begins to swim...dizzy from the wine and lost in sensation.

“Is this really happening?” he murmurs, lavishing my other breast. “Viv,” he rasps out as his lips graze a path up the front of my neck.

He’s being so gentle—too gentle—and I just want him to fuck this day out of my mind. To make me forget for a blissful moment how badly I screwed up.

I rock harder, hoping he will take the hint. He usually reads my signals so well, but he places his hands on my waist and slows my movements, whispering into my ear, “Don’t...just...just let me enjoy you.”

I can’t. Not tonight. My eyes well up and a feeling of desperation consumes me. “Please,” I cry, blinking away tears. “Just make it go away. Make me forget...”

There’s a moment of hesitation, and then as if a switch has been flipped, he delves into my mouth, kissing me with a ferocity I’ve never experienced from him. It’s exactly what I need. He cups the back of my head, and his kisses are hard and bruising. Quick shallow thrusts of his tongue followed by deep almost choking plunges. It’s relentless and unforgiving. It’s primal. He tugs my bottom lip between his teeth and moans into my mouth. And still I want more. I want him deep enough to cleanse my soul. Hard enough to punish me. Forceful enough to make me forget.

He wraps his arm around my waist, and in one fluid motion flips me onto my back, his mouth never leaving mine. “So beautiful,” he growls against my lips before rising to his knees and slipping a finger beneath the black lace band of my thong. Torturously slow, he runs his finger back and forth along my middle while making love to me with his eyes. And just when I think I will explode from desire, he rolls the tiny scraps of fabric down my legs and stands...and I feel his absence everywhere.

I stare with bated breath at the way his muscles contract as he wrenches his t-shirt over his head, and when his impressive erection springs free from his shorts, my entire body clenches with need. “Please,” I beg, biting my bottom lip and tasting blood. I slip my tongue out and run it along my lip, savoring the taste of our savage kisses...wanting more...needing more.

He slides his hand up and down his shaft, readying himself for me. I am so wound up, I swear that I will die if I don’t get some relief soon. As if he can read my mind, he acquiesces, wrenching my legs apart and kneeling before me. He grabs onto my thighs, lifting my center, and rubs his cock along my sensitive flesh.

Each stroke of his warm skin against mine is the sweetest torture. It’s pleasure and pain...heaven and hell. It’s I can’t take anymore and please don’t stop. His jaw tightens, matching the reaction in my core. It’s as if every nerve ending in my body is collecting in my center, manifesting into a tight little ball. A grenade, ready to detonate, and he holds the pin.

I whimper and writhe, clutching the sides of the couch, bucking against him, trying unsuccessfully to force him inside. I am nothing but sensation...nowhere but this moment.

His eyes are fixed on his task...watching with a lustful gaze as if he could do this all day...I can’t...The more he teases, the more furious I become. My heartbeat pounds in my ears and my breaths are coming in shallow pants.

When he finally leans over me, and I can feel his head resting against my opening, I begin to shake with silent tears. “Please,” I cry.

His face falls at the sight of my tears. “Oh God. Are you okay? Did you change your mind?” he asks, and with a pained expression adds, “We can still...we can still stop.”

Stop? Has he lost his mind? “Just. Fuck. Me...” I pant. “Now.”

With a renewed vigor and a triumphant smirk, he reaches between us and places his cock at my entrance. “Ready?” he rasps.

I raise my hips, forcing the tip to breach my entrance, and he releases a low chuckle before pushing the rest of the way inside.

This. This is what I’ve been reaching for. This closeness. This fullness. This connection that only comes from having him buried deep inside me. There is nothing more healing than the feeling of our hearts beating between our chests and our centers pulsing as one.

He pulls back and begins to thrust in and out in long, hard strokes...pounding my head into the arm of the couch. I can feel him everywhere...stretching me...filling me. I’m so close.

“Harder,” I moan, needing the pain as much, if not more, than the pleasure.

He circles his thumb over my nub and gives me everything he has. Long punishing strokes. So thick. So deep. So hard.

I dig my nails into his back, holding on for dear life as we pull the pin and explode together.

Gone are the feelings of sadness and guilt as we lie in a tangle of limbs and heartbeats. Breathy sighs and butterfly kisses. We bask in this blissful nothingness that only exists when we come together and purge our souls.

My eyes flutter open in the darkness, and I’m feeling a sense of déjà vu when I realize that, just like in my dream, my head is resting on a man’s thigh. But unlike in my dream, this man can’t be Abbott...The gaping hole in my heart is a constant reminder that can’t be possible.

That dream, though...it was so real. I can actually taste the copper on my lips and feel the slickness between my legs.
My first wet dream.
Holy fuck! I had my first wet dream laying in the lap of another man...my nephew at that.
Damn, Viv...how much farther can you fall?

The night before slowly comes back to me, along with a pounding headache. The lake...Tillie...Reid saving her and the consumption of way too much wine. We must have passed out drinking and my subconscious manipulated reality into my heart’s desire.

I need to get up and clean this mess before Matilda wakes up. I should go in and check on her...

Careful not to wake Reid, I lift myself off him very slowly, bracing my aching head with my hand. The room spins. Oh God...the nausea.
Deep breaths. Deep breaths
. I inhale and get a whiff of wine. The smell of sex is evidently burned into my mind because I smell that too and begin to retch.

“You all right?” he asks, placing a comforting hand on my back.

Still reeling from the fact that I just mentally screwed my husband in this man’s lap, it startles me and I jump up from the couch. “Yeah...um, too much wine,” I offer with a shrug as I begin collecting our wine glasses and the rest of our mess from last night.

“Let me help you with that.” Reid grabs the empty wine bottles that are cradled in the crooks of my arms. His hand brushes my arm, leaving goosebumps in its wake. Jesus, my body is still so worked up from that dream. I’m skittish and acting like a bumbling idiot.

Reid follows me into the kitchen and disposes of the bottles while I wash our dishes. Then suddenly, I feel him behind me.
Close
behind me—too close. My body tenses as he leans into my ear and whispers, “That was some dream you had last night, wasn’t it?”

I freeze. He knows...He knows about the dream. Oh my God. Of course he knows about the dream. I must have given him quite the show. The wine glass slips out of my hand and shatters in the sink. My entire body heats with embarrassment. I’m going to be sick.

“Shit, Vivienne!” Reid gently pushes me aside to clean up the mess. “I didn’t realize you were feeling that bad,” he says when my body is wracked with dry heaves. “Go to bed. I’ll clean this and lock up on my way out.”

I’m sick.

For hours, I’m in and out of bed, throwing up the entire contents of my stomach and more.

When Tillie finally wakes up, she finds me there, trembling and in a cold sweat. Completely useless. She goes into the bathroom and returns with a wet washcloth which she places over my eyes then cuddles up next to me. “I love you, Momma,” she whispers, kissing my arm.

I choke back a sob, still feeling so much guilt over the night before. “I love you more than life, baby,” I whisper.

The next time I open my eyes, I find Tillie sitting up in my bed, eating a Pop-Tart. She has the TV on low, watching her cartoons, and I wonder where my baby has gone. When did she turn into a little girl? “When did you start taking care of Mommy and getting your own breakfast, pretty girl?”

“When I gotted free years old,” she answers simply, like the answer should be so obvious.

You mean when your Daddy died, and your mommy lost her mind,
I think to myself, mentally adding that to the ever growing pile of guilt.

Around noon, Reid peeks his head into the door. “Hey, ladies,” he says, looking awfully chipper.

“Hi, Prince Reid,” Tillie beams. “Where’s Princess Kylie?”

His eyes drift over to me when he answers, “She had to go home, Dimples. I’m sorry.” He’s giving me a look that I’m not sure how to read. Did he send her home because of me? Because of the scene I pulled yesterday?
More guilt.

She pouts, hanging her head. “Aw, man...I wanted to show her my princess dresses.”

“I’m sorry. You can show me your princess dresses if you want to,” he says, giving her a huge, dimpled smile.

Tillie blows out a long breath and rolls her eyes. Those dimples may work on the other ladies, but they do not impress her. “You already sawed them afore.”

“That’s true,” he says, stepping into the room. “But, I would love to see them as many times as you want to show them to me.”

“Hmmm...maybe later,” she says noncommittally.

“I was actually coming by to see if you wanted to come downstairs and have lunch with me and maybe help me drive the boat the rest of the afternoon since Mommy isn’t feeling well.” he offers, raising his eyebrows at me in question.

Thank you,
I mouth.

The camp. I forgot all about the camp. Thank God for Reid always being here to save me.

Tillie’s face lights up with excitement. “Can I, Mommy? Can I go?” Her voice sounds horrible, like her vocal cords have been run through a shredder. Another reminder of how close we came to losing her last night.

My chest tightens as I nod my head. “Of course, baby.” Looking over to Reid, I add, “Just make sure she wears her life jacket, okay?”

He looks at Tillie with so much love and genuine affection then over to me. His face says it all. The trauma of almost losing Tillie has connected us on a deeper level. There’s a trust that wasn’t there before. He saved my baby, and I know that I owe him her life—that I can trust him with her life.

Reid

In the first few days following the night that Viv and I had sex, I realized that it’s not something she is ready to discuss or to repeat. She was really skittish around me for a few days after...embarrassed or worried...maybe even ashamed. It stung at first, and then I had to remind myself that her husband just died and that she must feel like shit. It’s too soon. So, I’ll bide my time. I’ll wait.

The camp has been great. I’ve learned a lot about myself and life in general. Being able to watch these kids open up, cut loose, and have some fun has been so rewarding. Tonight is karaoke night, and I can’t wait to see what they’ve come up with.