0 comments/ 43755 views/ 2 favorites Joshua's Regret By: ardenlowe His eyes were grey and smoldering. Though he said nothing at all, he watched me with a look of intensity I had not seen in quite some time, and a part of me grew heated as my eyes met and locked with his. He smiled tightly, those amazing eyes moving down the length of my long, silky black hair and settling somewhere between the shadow of my neck and the gentle swell of my small but firm breasts. Motherhood had made them fuller than they had been before, and I saw that this stirred him. I also could see that this desire made him furious, and a shiver ran down my spine as I saw his hands clench into fists and his jaw tighten as he glared at me, the intensity of his good looks made even more so by his poorly concealed fury. “Megan, don’t be rude, have you nothing to say?” My husband, Joshua’s father, Paul, chided, patting my arm gently. Startled, I turned to look at him, flushing with guilt and immediately lowering my eyes with a small nod. I felt far younger than my 23 years, and Iflondered as I felt my cheeks grew even warmer and averted my face as I rose from the chaise. “I’m sorry.” I murmured, without looking up, and meaning so many different things. I could feel both of them looking at me as I stood, feeling awkward and ashamed as the silence lengthened. Time seemed to rush between us all, and images, truths, and inescapable betrayal seemed to cry out in the silence. I felt myself strangle on a cry that pride would not allow, and I tasted blood on my lips. Still, the silence continued. At last, Paul lifted his hand to caress my cheek. The coolness and compassion in his touch made me feel like weeping, and when I looked up and saw his handsome face, my eyes were filled with tears. “It’ll be all right, my little love.” He said softly, lovingly, “Joshua understands and all is forgiven between us.” My eyes rose to meet Joshua’s, and I saw his disdain and his desire. He was looking back at me with a small, cold smile. My heart seemed to shrink back, and I bit my lip again, shaking my head, feeling the color drain from my face. “I’ve made a mistake…” I muttered, pulling away and covering my face with my hands. “God!” I moaned, feeling the tears break free. Without another word, I turned and ran from the room. It was late, and the baby was sleeping peacefully in the nursery. Sweet dreams surely colored his world, I thought, as I placed a kiss upon his cheek. Emotions twisted like angry snakes in the pit of my stomach and I closed my eyes in despair , pressing my forehead against the coolness of the crib. “Joshua, why did you come back?” I whispered desperately, feeling horribly, miserably lost. Fear, so recently set aside, returned and laid itself heavily on my heart. “How dare you come here.” My heart seemed to stop beating, and my hands rose like frantic birds to twist at the locket around my neck. He was at my side in an instant, pressing me against the wall, pinning me against the closet door with his strength and his anger. It seemed as though he did not touch me, but the weight of him was there, and as he drew his fingers to my face I closed my eyes. “I hate you,” He growled, his breath hot on my neck and ears. With his fingers he traced the curve of my neck and followed their path with his lips. I felt incapable of breathing and I felt the strength flow out of me as I sagged against the wall. His arm went around me, drawing me tightly against him. I felt the relentless, brutal hardness of him pressed against my thigh, and desiring him, cursed my own weakness a thousand times. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” I whispered, almost chanting the words. Shaking my head, I tried to pull free, opening my eyes and looking into Joshua’s face. “It’s too late, and I can’t undo it.” “Damn you to hell for your foolish pride.” He answered, his eyes smoldering with his rage. “Damn you for not telling me, and for running away, and for not waiting…damn you for not seeing this through, for giving him what belongs to me.” “It’s too late!” I cried out, pushing at him. He looked at me and groaned deep in his throat, raising his own hands to his dark hair and pulling at it. His eyes closed and his jaw worked spastically as he struggled. Suddenly, he lunged forward, his hand connecting with my cheek and making me stagger. I felt my knees give and before I could regain my bearing he had me pinned beneath him, his eyes filled with fierce determination and rage. “You forgot, didn’t you? I’ll make you remember, you little whore. You’ll never forget, I won’t let you forget…” “No!” I cried out in horror, pushing frantically at him. It seemed that he did not hear me, and my clothes tore easily underneath his brutal hands. “Please!” I begged, grasping at the material, “Do not do this, and do not disrespect your father, his house, my son!” He laughed and then tore at my panties and used the force and weight of his thighs to force my legs apart. I pushed desperately at him, but my ineffectual attempts to fend him off were useless—especially when he forced his fingers inside me and found me wet. “Our son, you whore…” He whispered disdainfully, pulling his fingers away as I groaned. He lowered his head to take my milk-heavy breasts into his mouth and with one smooth movement entered my body with his demandingly heated cock. “Fuck!” He swore, burying himself in me to the hilt. He began to rock back and forth, forcing groans of pleasure from us both and I gasped, feeling him throbbing deep inside me, feeling my hips begin to move on their own accord. My legs rose to wrap around his waist and his hand moved to my hips as he guided me beneath him. Heaven and hell ceased to be and I forgot everything as I felt the heat spread between my legs and fill me deep within. My heart caught the rhythm of his and he sealed our mouths with a kiss, stifling our lust-filled cries and he thrust bitterly into me. The baby stirred and Joshua lifted his head and looked down on me, a look of such pain and desire on his face. “Why?” He whispered, stroking my face and brushing back the strands of my hair. He became tender and gently he stroked me, and our tears flowed together as the baby grew silent once more. “Make it right, Megan, tell him you are leaving him, tell him you cannot live without me, tell him you will die without me, tell him I will die without you, tell him anything….” He pleaded, wrapping his fingers in my hair and staring down into my face as I moaned beneath the pleasure of him. “Tell him, and we will make all of this a bad dream, and we’ll get married and go far away from here…” It seemed that we both knew of the impossibility and a part of me wondered why Paul did not come, where my husband was as I made love with my son’s father, who was his son. Endless thoughts that did not entirely fit together made me groan as I felt Joshua come deep within me, filling me with his seed, forcing himself deep into my womb and striving to create new life within me. I shook with the force of my orgasm, pulling him close and kissing him tenderly as we rocked together. Milk trickled from my breasts and gently he suckled my nipples, his eyes closing as he drank the sweet nectar. “I love you.” I whispered, stroking his hair, kissing his brow. “So much that it is killing me…but I have to let you go. I’ve already made my choice.” “Megan, no.” He sighed, holding me tightly. “I can’t let you go now.” “And I can’t leave Paul…he was there for me, and he gave me his name, and he gave Matthew a name…” I paused and pulled away. “I can’t leave him, for I love him in my own way, for taking care of us when things with you and I were impossible.” “They are not impossible anymore.” Joshua insisted, stubbornly, fiercely. “You need only say the word and it will be so.” “I already have.” I answered, quietly. Joshua pulled away from me. “Damn you.” He said, simply, bitterly. Pulling on his clothes quickly, his hands shook. He turned to look at me and then walked over to the crib to look at the baby. “Damn you,” he repeated, quieter, his voice low and filled with hurt. Without another word, he turned and walked away. I began to cry painfully then, not caring that I was still nude. It seemed as though I cried for hours, and my throat felt painful and sore, and my body ached. At last, I just stood there, feeling spent, staring down at my child and feeling crazy with grief. Then, a voice filled the room that had been silent except for Matthew’s light breathing. “Megan.” He said, softly, gently, placing a soft blanket around me and shielding my nudity. This gesture of kindness made me groan and I turned and lowered my eyes with shame, but my husband tilted my face forward and looked into my eyes. “You had to say goodbye.” He said gently, compassionately. “There is nothing to forgive.” It was in that moment that I realized how much I loved him, that my heart screamed and my body ached, but as Paul drew me into his arms I wept with gratitude. Later, when he made love to me, I marveled at his gentleness, his devotion, and his love. Rising above him, I opened my eyes and saw his beloved face looking back at me, without judgment, without hurt, or hate, or regret, and I fell in love with him. Joshua never came back into our lives, and neither Paul nor I spoke or questioned who Anna’s father was when she came fully nine months after Joshua left, but part of me believes that who her father is doesn’t matter. Joshua left for reasons he could not explain, returned believing he could explain, only to find that the time for explanations had passed. I couldn’t live my life with regret, but I had to live my life with love. So that is what I am doing now.