80 comments/ 75940 views/ 72 favorites Another Loss By: Jidoka Kyle David Watson was 34 years old and a paradox. A college dropout shouldn't have had his business savvy. Someone of his intellect should never have had such trouble remaining focused in college. His calm, quiet demeanor didn't match his muscled, 6'2" frame. His nerd-like fascination with gadgets and technology didn't match his athletic ability. His apathy toward team sports of any kind didn't match his broad shoulders, bear like arms or massive hands. His boyish good looks and casual dress didn't match his age. His catatonic shyness with women didn't match their desire for him. His normal peaceful, easygoing manner did not match his cold, calculated rage as he sat at the bar, facing away from his tormentor. "It doesn't have to be like this. You don't have to fight for her. You can have the bitch and still walk away." "Fuck you, asshole. I am not here to fight for her. She already picked me. I am here to teach you a lesson." The arrogance of youth. It is what Kyle hated the most about the man standing behind him. It was as palpable as his douche bag body spray that seemed to fill the room with a foul stench. Still, Kyle wasn't about to risk going to jail for a fight. Not even a fight against the man who was fucking his wife. He swallowed the remainder of his bourbon in one gulp then stood abruptly. When he turned he saw exactly what he expected. The young man was flanked by four of his friends and was at least four inches taller and 30 pounds heavier than Kyle. But it was his smirk that sealed his fate. "Not here. I'll be at Manny's in an hour. If you show up, and Manny lets you into the ring, you can have your shot." "Oh, I'll be there, asshole. You can count on it. But you'd better be there or I will skip all the intros at our next meeting and get straight to kicking your ass!" "Don't worry. I'll be there." *** October 6, 2011 was the day Kyle Watson lost his wife. He just didn't know it at the time. There were at a holiday office party, a boring one at that. He had seen her kiss another man, a business associate several years her senior. It was a kiss with potential. And she knew he had seen her. The look of panic mixed with embarrassment on her face told him she knew she was caught. The look of fear in the man's eyes was proof that he knew he was caught, too. At home later that evening, when she knelt by his side crying her eyes out and gasping for breath, while he was sitting on the couch, she apologized. Kyle thought it was enough. They never spoke of it again. That may have been a mistake, but it didn't feel like it at the time. October 6, 2011 didn't feel like such a bad day. Seeing his wife kiss another man made Kyle feel jealous and angry and sick to his stomach. He welcomed those feelings. Being able to feel anything at all was a welcome change. It had been nine months of empty. Nine months of being lost in his own life, his own house, his own skin. Nine months since he had lost his little girl. Emily was nine years old at the time of the accident. She had a winning smile, impossible brunette curls, and the voice of a miniature princess. She was also stubborn as a mule, unashamedly curious about everything and had the ability to melt her father with one look from her glacially blue eyes. Kyle only missed her when his heart was beating. The child who had taken her life wasn't speeding, drinking or texting. He was in his first year of driving his first car, a meticulously clean, piece of shit, clunker. There was no way he could have stopped his car in time. No one could have. Definitely not a sixteen year old. Emily had been sledding with Dana's parents. It was the first big snowfall of the year. Seven inches of pristine powder had paved the way towards his daughter's death. Dana's parents weren't at fault either. The hill had been prime real estate for winter fun since Kyle had been a child. There was almost twenty feet of flat land between the bottom of the hill and the street, five more feet of sidewalk and a bank of snow that was capable of stopping the largest of runaway inner tubes. Emily's should have stopped in plenty of time. But it didn't. Dana's father, Charles Whitmore, III, had recounted the morbid tale to Kyle dozens of times. Apologizing every time. He would cry as he remembered Emily barreling down the hill over and over, climbing a little bit higher every time, getting braver and braver with each climb. It was only a few seconds. He and his wife were preparing to leave and trying to decide on the best place for lunch. In that small amount of time Emily chose to race to the very top of the hill and take a running dive on to her tube, head first. Then came the series of what ifs. What if Charles Whitmore hadn't tripped in the deep snow as he tried in vain to stop the young? What if Emily was a year older and 5 pounds heavier or had placed her hand out to touch the snow? Would her momentum have been stopped? No one would know for sure. But what followed was a perfect cacophony of screams and screeching brakes and sirens and wailing that ended only when Emily Christine Watson was pronounced dead at 11:46 in the morning on January 6, 2011, with barely a month left until what would have been her tenth birthday. What would have been almost never was. That thought placated Kyle's anger at the world when he would let himself be angry. Emily was born six weeks premature. The doctors had waited only long enough for a single test to indicate that Emily's under developed lungs would function at all outside of the womb before they wheeled his severely ill wife to the operating room. Kyle's vocabulary grew every minute he was at the hospital. Preeclampsia. Severe hypertension. Cesarean section. Hemorrhage. Hysterectomy. Neonatal intensive care. But, after just a few weeks in the hospital, both mother and daughter were safely at home. Emily was so small that she couldn't nurse properly. So while his wife dutifully pumped her breast milk for their child, it was Kyle who prepared the syringe and fed Emily by allowing her to suck on the tip of his pinkie finger while painstakingly slowly dosing her food through the attached plastic tubing. The process sealed their bond as a family. Mother and father and daughter. Wife and husband and child. The next nine years flew by in the blink of an eye. Kyle cherished those years and the love he felt from both Emily and Dana. It made him feel safe and whole and grounded. He missed the fact that Emily could never call for him once. It was always, "Daddy! Daddy!" He missed turning around from his playtime with Emily to see his wife leaning against the door frame with a contended smile brightening her face. He missed those things and feelings so much. *** The counseling sessions weren't going well. Kyle knew that. He had hoped Dana would open up to anyone about what she was feeling. The counselor was his last hope. He had tried to talk about adoption, or foster parenting, or just living with the fact that he and Dana had loved a precious little girl and now that part of their lives was over. They had grieved. Maybe it hadn't been enough but Dana remained hidden behind her job, and her work friends and their drinking, and other strange behavior. Kyle couldn't put his feeling into words, but he knew something wasn't right. That kiss was just one of the signs that had left him feeling uneasy. *** Miguel 'Manny' Martinez was a former gang member turned good guy. By day, he ran a community center for troubled youth. By night, he ran the area's only boxing and mixed martial arts training center. He was also a beast of a man. Six feet five inches, two-hundred thirty pounds of solid, chiseled muscle. He mostly hid the tattoos that told the story of his former life, but the tigers paw and claws that curved around the base of his neck were always visible and a constant reminder of where he had come from. He was also the best trainer in the tri-state area with golden gloves champions and MMA up and comers seeking his services in droves. Kyle was not going to be his latest and greatest. Manny sought out Kyle after the dedication ceremony for the new safety features, like the 10-foot high safety fence, at Hide Memorial Park. The man seemed lost while giving his speech. Manny recognized the pain having been witness to too many families that had lost a child to violence. He felt he could help this man. And felt a calling to do just that. Their conversations had been brief at first, nothing more than introductions and condolences. But a strange fellowship formed between the man who lost his child in an accident and the man who had seen too many children lost to the streets. It was Manny who suggested Kyle come to train at his gym as a form of stress relief. "The sweat will do you good. Trust me," he had told Kyle. And it did. His first session in the gym was designed for a single purpose, to work Kyle to exhaustion. Manny punished Kyle's body with aerobic activities and strength training and when Kyle felt he couldn't move another inch, Manny pushed him harder. Then Manny drove Kyle home and helped him into his house and put him in bed, where Kyle fell into his first night of real sleep in almost a year. A sore but refreshed Kyle showed up at the gym the next night and nearly every night thereafter. Training, sparring, learning and talking. It brought him a sense of focus and clarity and connection to his body and spirit. Unfortunately, he just wasn't a very good fighter. Manny knew why. Kyle didn't have a mean bone in his body. The word arrogant wasn't even in his dictionary. The body of a titan, the killer instinct of a mouse. Those thoughts actually made Manny smile. He had not known very many genuinely nice people in his life. It was a nice change of pace. *** She broke up with him over the phone. It was so pathetic and cliché, all Kyle could do was laugh at the drudgery that had become his life. But it also made him take a good hard look at himself. It was true, he wasn't happy. At least she had been right about that. "It's just that with me being out here and you being back there, I am just not having any fun and I should at least be enjoying myself. But, I'm not. You can't be happy, either. It's nothing permanent. If we are meant to be together, we will be, just not while we are so far apart." "You're breaking up with me? Over the phone? You just broke up with me." Kyle said, or rather whispered, the words out loud mostly so that he could hear them, to make sure that what he heard was actually real. "Kyle, honey, it's not like that." "No. It's ok, Dana. Sew your wild oats, and all that. I get it. Listen, I've got to run. I'll talk to you later." Dana Whitmore had been Kyle's only girlfriend. To be frank, though Kyle had an exceptionally large group of friends, from both sexes, Dana was one of the few people he actually felt comfortable with. She was just so nice and had always been from their very first meeting on their very first day in middle school home room. It didn't hurt that she was cute as a button back then and aged into an absolute knockout. Kyle decided it didn't matter how nice or beautiful she was. She didn't want him anymore and that was that. He did wonder briefly, however irrational it may have sounded to anyone who had ever laid eyes on him, if he would ever have sex again, having lost his virginity to a girl who no longer loved him. Kyle was twenty years old and just starting his junior year, when he dropped out of college. Everyone told him he was crazy, and even though he thought they were probably right, he just couldn't drag himself out of bed to go to class. He hated his classes, he wasn't very fond of the professors and he couldn't believe that some of his classmates had even graduated high school. He just knew he didn't feel comfortable, or that he was learning anything that was relevant to the real world, and he felt that the worst case scenario was that he would take a semester break, lose half of his tuition, and try again later. He never had to worry about it. He started in the mail room. It was unheard of for someone to move from a menial administrative position to the technical side of the house. But, it happened. Barely a month into his new life, the man slammed the phone down in an attempt to vent his frustration. The account, for a large photography printing outfit, was almost surely lost. The customer was furious. They asked for a new software platform and the equipment to run it, a quarter million dollar contract, and no hassles. It should have been easy, but now they were having daily complaints about distorted images on their screens. The technical department had been over the job specs dozens of times, and the platform had been tested, without error, over and over. "It's their monitors, not our hardware or software." Kyle had just dropped of a package and was walking back out the door. He wasn't consciously listening to the conversation, nor was he commenting to anyone but himself. He was shocked when the man called him back to the office. Over the next half hour, Kyle explained the article he had seen in last month's journal, compatibility problems with one company's monitors and another's video cards. The article had stuck in his mind because both companies had a reputation for building top quality products. He thought it was funny that their products didn't play nicely together. During the discussion, Kyle was witty and charming, and knew details for beyond his level of experience. When the man pushed him on how and why he knew so much, Kyle honestly had no explanation. "I'm not sure. Chronic case of nerdiness?" That sealed the deal. Kyle's new boss chuckled all the way to human resources. Kyle started out on the technical help desk the next week. Six months later, he was promoted to lead technician. Six months after that, he had his first shot as a project leader. His natural leadership, confidence and ability to genuinely connect with people reveled in the spotlight. But it was his ability to diagnose complicated problems and develop innovative and effective solutions that caught the eye of his superiors. Kyle rode his success to a position as the youngest senior project leader in company history. He bought a house and a car and a dog and had money to spare. His friends were shocked with his success. His boss was stunned and still chuckling whenever he got to tell the story about how the kid, who was dropping off his mail, had saved his ass. It had been two years, probably the best in his life, but Kyle felt a little empty until she was there, on a random afternoon in June. Sitting on his porch. Kyle sat in his driveway, car still running, just looking at her for the longest time. She tried to call him once, about a month after their breakup. He let the call go to voice mail. He deleted her message before he listened to it. He let her into his house, without saying a word. Kyle poured her a glass of orange juice and grabbed a glass of ice water for himself. They sat down at the kitchen table and sipped their drinks, neither saying a word for a painfully long time. Kyle didn't have a clue what to say. Dana had a couple of false starts before she was able to speak. "It was the stupidest thing I have ever done, Kyle. I dated, a couple of times. One guy, twice. But, I swear I never, ever let anyone else....I'm so sorry, Kyle. I never..." He was across the table and kissing her with a passion suppressed for far too long before she could finish. Dana tried to apologize several more times during the next 48 hours, but never quite got around to finishing her thought. They were married in less than nine months. Emily arrived a year later. *** It had been three months since that embarrassing kiss and things had been better. It was as if Dana was presenting Kyle with a glimpse of their former marriage. She was attentive and loving and playful and happy. But she wouldn't talk. Not about anything real. Not about anything that mattered. Maybe she didn't know Kyle could hear her crying while she was in the shower. Maybe she didn't know that she would sometimes stare at the wall or lose her train of thought mid-conversation. But Kyle could hear her and he could see her. He knew that all his hopes were based on a façade and it scared him. *** "I need your help, Doc." There had been a few moments of silence after Dana had stormed out of the office and ended the session. "It was just a fucking kiss! It didn't mean anything then and it doesn't mean anything now. I said I was sorry and I meant it. Grow the fuck up!" At least they were talking about it. That had to mean something. But the longer Kyle thought about it, the more he panicked. "I am doing my best help both you and your wife, Kyle." "I know that, Doc. And I appreciate it. I really do. And we are here and we are talking. And that's a good thing, or at least I hope it is. And I can live with it. I can hold on, by my fingernails if I have too. I can hang in there and be supportive and get treated like shit and watch and wait, and be patient and anything else, for that matter. I love her and I want her back. But, I need your help." Kyle wasn't a crier and he wasn't a baby and wasn't used to begging, but it was all he had left. "If you tell me that she is getting better. I'll believe you. Anything, a tiny breakthrough..a...a...glimmer of hope. Anything. Tell me you've seen it. Please, if you have, tell me. She's been coming to your office every week for three months. So there has to be something, right? Some sign. Maybe she has said something or done something? I'll take anything. Anything at all. But, please, I need something. I need your help." Desperation wasn't a good look for Kyle and Dr. Harris was conflicted. If there was ever a reason to break doctor patient confidentiality, this would have been it. But he couldn't offer the broken man sitting in his office any comfort. The year's had brought any number of cases through his door. Addictions, infidelities, mental illness, but never one quite as heart breaking as this one. "I'm sorry I can't do that, I'm ethically..." The sigh from Kyle was so long and came from such depth that it was as if his soul was trying to escape his body. "I'm afraid I couldn't share those things with you....and even if I could, I wouldn't be able to give you what you are asking for." Kyle knew what the doctor was trying to tell him without telling him and he tried to hold back the tears and his frustration and after a flash of failure, that is exactly what he did. "Yeah, OK, Doc. Thanks. I guess I'll just have to be patient. So, we'll see you next week." *** The façade came crumbling down after their last session. Dana was late coming home from work almost every night, stopping for drinks with her "co-workers" on a daily basis. Kyle rarely knew where she was or who she was with. It had been two weeks of more hurtful comments and general disdain that reared its ugly head one more time on that Friday night. "I'm drunk. Come pick me up. I'm at the Station." The Station was a college bar. The favorite hangout of the frat boy's spending daddy's money. Kyle had taken a cab downtown and was standing next to Dana's minivan when he spotted her coming out of the bar, hanging on the arm of some playboy wanna be. They stopped about twenty feet from Kyle and Dana handed the boy a piece of paper. "Call me." "You bet, baby." The show was meant for Kyle, and he knew it, and it hurt. They drove in relative silence back to their home. Dana was drunkenly giggling in the passenger seat while Kyle just stared at the road and the darkness that was in front of him. A darkness that was surrounding him in every possible way. *** Manny was surprised to see Kyle, and even more surprised to see him grabbing his sparing gear out of his locker and changing quietly on one of the benches. But he couldn't stop and talk. There was a new group of bad boys that wanted a daily pass waiting for him at the counter. Another Loss "It's ten bucks each for the night to use the equipment and share a locker." "Nah, man I wanna get in the ring." Manny gave the big guy in front of the group the once over. He clearly had some training. Manny asked the standard questions and the young man had all the right answers, a wrestling background and was willing to sign the liability waivers. It didn't feel quite right, but Manny couldn't put his finger on why. The guy was a smug son of a bitch, so Manny decided it was just his general dislike for assholes that put the kid on his radar. "OK, there aren't many people looking to spar tonight, but it's your money." "Oh, I'm sure someone will give me a shot, Jose." "Yep," Manny thought, "asshole". People in the gym were in the same jovial mood as always. There was of course a little trash talking, some towel tossing and a water fight. Kyle sat alone on a bench, head in his hands. Jake Lichty was eager to hop in ring, not even bothering to warm up. Jorge, one of the trainers checked his head gear, gloves and mouthpiece shaking his head as the kid threw air punches and hoped around like he was getting ready for a prize fight. "Calm down, Rocky, no one is even up to spar ton..." Jorge stopped short as he watched Kyle step between the ropes. "Watts! What's up, homie." Kyle stood stoically as Jorge checked him over. "You all right, Kyle." "Fine man. Just fine." "Three minutes?" "Five." "Whatever, homes. That's a big lug over there." Jorge rang the bell, Manny stepping up behind him. Jake threw a roundhouse that caught nothing but air then ate a short left jab. Kyle followed with an inside leg kick that popped just above Jake's right knee and a wicked body shot that landed just above Jake's left hip. Then he skipped away to the center of the ring. Manny hollered into the ring. "Damn, Kyle. You may make me forget that you can't fight worth a shit with shots like that." Then he wandered away from the ring, laughing, and up the stairs to his office. It was a punishing five minute round. Kyle dropped his guard once and could tell that the stinging sensation under his left eye was going to leave a mark that would last for some time. Still, he walked casually towards his corner and stood resting his elbows on the top of the ropes taking in a few deep breaths. Jake, however, was hunched over on his stool, holding a towel to his lip. The blood stained ever part of the towel it touched. But it didn't really hurt. Then again, maybe it did. But it didn't nearly as much as the rest of his body. His legs were throbbing from kick after kick. There was already a bruise on his left shin. His cheeks were starting to swell from all the jabs that had come his way. At one point, he thought he had the upper hand, landing a huge right hook to the eye of his opponent, but the guy barely moved. But, while Kyle was momentarily stunned, Jake rushed him and used his formidable size to shove him into a corner. It hadn't lasted long. A short uppercut had moved Jake back, and he soon found himself with his back to the ropes, his hands wrestling with Kyle's, trying to gain the upper hand while he was taking knee after knee to his torso. Left, left, right. Pause. Right, right, left. And again. Jake stared at his opponent, trying hard not to lift his head farther than he had to. He felt like he couldn't breathe. Kyle looked like he hadn't broken a sweat. The muffled ding announced that the short break was over. Kyle strolled into the center of the ring. "You can still walk away." "Fuck you, old man." "OK, I tried. When you're wondering later on, that first round was for fucking my wife. This one is for where you did it. So, show me what you have left. You. Fucking. Pussy." When he thought about it later Jake realized the number of ways he had underestimated his opponent and basically dove, head first, into the beating of his life. His size was countered by skill. His youth was countered by endurance and training. His arrogance countered by rage. But, at that moment, none of those things stopped him from growling and diving at Kyle's legs. It would be his last mistake. Kyle shot his legs backwards and pushed his hips high, all while grappling Jake's head with a force that equaled his size. The shift in momentum couldn't be missed and Jake tumbled to the ground landing on his back. Like a man possessed Kyle was on him in an instant. "Manny! Manny!" Jorge screamed. He had listened to the conversation as best he could and when understood the implications he started to call for help. But it was too late. Kyle was seated atop Jake in full guard. Jake tried to protect his face with his arms, but it was futile. In the superior position Kyle drove his fists to the mat, Jake's face just happened to be in the way. Blow after blow rained down. When Kyle's arms tired, he started with the hammer fists by the dozens. When Jake's nose broke and splashed blood across the floor, he reached towards Kyle's face in a final attempt to push him away. And that was the end. Kyle grabbed Jake's wrist, and twisted his hips, gathering Jake's arm between his legs. Kyle's left calf was pushing against Jake's throat, his feet, crossed at his ankles, pressing down against Jake's chest. As Kyle pushed his hips in the air and his shoulders to the mat, he twisted Jake's limb, which was fully captured in the arm bar. Manny came running down the stairs just in time to hear the snap. The scream was frightening. And then the crying started. Kyle stoically exited the ring, and tossed his gear in his locker, gathering his clothes in his arms, and walked out of the gym. He didn't feel bad, not by any means. But he didn't feel better. *** This is what Dana wanted. A man who didn't know her husband, who couldn't respect him, who would never fear him. As her body was pushed against the door and his hands started tearing her clothes from her body, she struggled to find her key and place it in the lock. It wasn't as though she was being cautious, with her bra enclosed breasts visible to anyone in their upscale suburban neighborhood. She hadn't even bothered to see if anyone was milling about. They weren't even a few feet into the house when she dropped to her knees, unbuckled his belt and pulled off his jeans. The door had barely latched before she had his cock in her hand and then, quickly, in her mouth. He grabbed her hair and pulled her into his crotch, desperately trying to fuck her face. It wasn't slow and gentle, but it wasn't brutal either. She was just a convenient hole. This is what she needed. What she wanted. Dana wasn't surprised when Jake's come splashed into the back of her throat. Frankly, she expected it. She smiled wickedly as she realized that she had overwhelmed him so easily. "I'll fuck you like you've never had it before." "We'll see." She laughed to herself as she recalled their brief conversation on the ride to her house. As Jake leaned against the entry wall, trying to catch his breath, Dana made her final choice. She stood and turned away from her boy toy, unzipping her skirt and stepping out of it gracefully as it fell past her hips to the floor. Her heels clicked a few steps farther before she reached behind her back and unclasped her bra. She shrugged the lace from her shoulders then dangled the garment in her fingers, holding it shoulder high. The momentum from the sway in her hips during her next few steps pushed the strap towards the end of her finger. She stopped briefly as she let it fall to the floor, turning her head to give Jake a devilish grin. Jake was at a loss for words. He felt stuck against the wall, paralyzed momentarily, as he watched the woman, dressed now in only panties and heels, stroll casually towards the hallway. Jake had never had such an easy pick up. Less than a week earlier, a slightly tipsy Dana Watson, had basically propositioned him. It had been a little shocking because it was hard to miss the giant rock on her finger. "I think I'd enjoy fucking you." "Well, who am I to argue. But, your husband might not like that idea." "Fuck him." "Exactly." It was hard to tell if she was joking when she said she was calling her husband for a ride home. But the guy actually showed. Jake hadn't even waited twenty four hours before he'd made the call. And now he could only hold his breath as he watched Dana stop, bend at the waist with her legs straight, and roll her panties down her hips, revealing the most perfect ass he had ever seen. The fact that she was older didn't mean much. The bitch was hot. Jake didn't pay much attention to the room's décor. Someone could have been holding a gun at his back in the corner of the room and he wouldn't have noticed. His focus was on Dana Watson on her knees, ass in the air, shoulders on the twin bed. Jake didn't bother with any preliminaries as he pushed his cock into the furnace of Dana's cunt. Dana sighed, at least his recovery time was good, though his technique didn't quite match his enthusiasm. She pushed her ass back to meet his thrusts. "Come on big boy, fuck me. Harder. Fuck me, harder!" She heard the grunts and felt the urgency, and she reached between her legs to rub her clit in a desperate attempt to bring herself to climax. When Jake forced himself forward onto her back, she knew it was too late. She rolled her eyes and sighed, and when she refocused her eyes she was staring at the comforter beneath her. She reached forward and traced the colorful flower appliqué with her finger. Emily loved flowers. All kinds, really. Tulips, roses, daisies. Dana started to laugh as she recalled how Emily even argued to save the dandelions in the yard. "They're beautiful, mama. Tiny, little sunflowers. We can't kill them. We just CAN'T!" She remembered Kyle holding in his laughter as Emily, all of four years old, tattled on her mother. "Daddy! Daddy! Mama needs a spanking! She killed all the d'lions and the flowers, too! All of them, daddy! With a sprayer, Psssshhhhh!! And it smelled really bad!!" Kyle had knelt to give Emily a hug as he looked up at Dana. The fire in his eyes caused Dana's knees to buckle as he whispered. "We'll talk about your spanking later....Mommy." "Fuck. That was awesome!" Jake's voice grated Dana away from her wonderful memory. And now everything that she knew she wanted was wrong. "Get up. We have to go. Now!" *** Kyle wasn't all that worried. It wasn't like Dana to miss her regular appointment with Dr. Harris, but when he'd called her office the receptionist said she had gone home. Apparently, she wasn't feeling well. Kyle was wondering if she had another hangover. Still, Kyle was irritated that the garage door was open, but at least he knew that Dana had been home, since he knew it was closed when he left for the office that morning. That the front door was unlocked also got on his nerves. What the hell was Dana thinking and where was she now? It wasn't that they lived in a crime ridden neighborhood or anything, but was it too much to ask that we close and lock the doors. He was halfway down the hallway, reaching up to loosen his tie when he noticed the door at the end of the hallway was open. He could see the light from the noon day sun brightly framing the door. And that's when he remembered he had seen something on the floor. He retraced his steps back to the hallway entrance and looked down at the piece of fabric he had stepped over the first time by. That's when he started to worry. *** Dana was in full panic mode. It was like someone had slapped her in the face and awoken her from a nightmare. She glanced at her watch again. She only had two hours left before Kyle was home. It was enough time. Barely, but enough. She squealed to a stop in the driveway, barely noticing that the garage door was now closed. Then she dropped her keys as she tried to unlock the front door. Why was she having so much trouble with the damn door? She flew down the hallway and into the room. She stripped the bedding and closed the door, running back down the hallway. She dropped what she was holding on the dining room table and started to remove her skirt and blouse and bra, tossing them onto the pile. Then she remembered what was missing. She ran naked back towards the hallway, searching the floor. "Come on. Come on! Shit!" "Looking for these?" Dana looked up, instinctively covering her breasts and crotch. "Kyle! I'm sorry...I...I didn't see you...there." Kyle was sitting in the living room, in his favorite leather chair, a bourbon in one hand and a pair of panties in the other. "You missed your appointment, DEAR!" "Kyle, I wasn't feeli....." "Did you fuck that kid in her room, SWEETY!?" "It was a mista..." "Is that his come dripping down your leg, HONEY!?" "Oh, God. Oh, my God!" "You win, Dana. I'm done. You've pushed and pushed and pushed. You win." Dana reached for him. This couldn't be happening. "DON'T FUCKING TOUCH ME! DON'T YOU DARE FUCKING TOUCH ME YOU STUPID BITCH!" In all the time she'd known Kyle, he had never raised his voice to her. Not in junior high, when they had met for the first time and become friends. Not in high school, when they had dated. Not one time when she'd left him to go to college on the west coast, when he called her every week without fail. Not even when she told him that she felt like they should see other people while they were so far apart. And never once in their ten years of marriage. "Kyle, I'm sor...." "Just shut up, Dana. Shut. The. Fuck. Up. Just get out of my house. Get out and don't come back." She dressed as quickly as she could, crying all the way to her car. She was too embarrassed to call her friends. There was no way she was going to see her parents. Why she called Jake, she never understood. They didn't know each other, he wouldn't be able to help her in any way. Unfortunately, he answered her call and was just too stupid to know when he should leave well enough alone. *** When Kyle didn't show up for their next counseling session, Dana knew what it meant. Her tearful confession to Dr. Harris that night started the long and painful process of admitting her demons and finding a way to progress towards healing. The petition for divorce had arrived two weeks later. Kyle called her to let her know it was coming so that the process server could find her at her parent's house and not at work. Dana saw Jake one more time while she was out with friend's catching a movie at the downtown mega theater. His arm was in a cast and his eyes were surrounded by massive bruises. She had never seen anyone turn and walk away from her so quickly, let alone someone who had clearly been in a recent car accident. Kyle pled no contest to misdemeanor disturbing the peace, after several weeks of plea bargaining with the district attorney. In the real world, people who hit other people get arrested. He was no exception. Fortunately, as a first time offender, Kyle was able to enter a pre-trial diversion program that required him to continue to see a counselor. He was already seeing Dr. Harris, so it really changed nothing in his life. After six months of sessions and a year of probation, his record would be expunged. His sentence from Manny was far more challenging. No gym time for a year and ten hours a week of community service at the youth center. Manny still came to Kyle's house on the weekends to train him in his garage. During the first month of private sessions, Kyle was pretty sure Manny was trying to carry out a self enforced death sentence. After ten months of haggling, Dana finally agreed to the terms of the divorce. Requesting one last face to face with Kyle before signing. That is how they found themselves in the conference room. The dark cherry bookshelves and tables and wingback leather chairs didn't scream warm and comforting to Kyle, but he sat there anyway. It wasn't his first choice for a place to have a conversation, but it was all he had. For maybe the first time, they really talked about Emily's death and how it had affected them. And they reminisced about the good memories of their little girl and her short time on earth. "Kyle, I just want to say that I am as sorry as I have ever been in my entire life about what I put you through. You have every right to be angry with me. I have no excuses. But, I have made a lot of progress in counseling and I understand what went wrong, and I would never, ever hurt you again. And I would do anything, anything at all, if you would just give me one more chance to love you, for us to be a couple again." Kyle knew this was where the conversation would lead. And, honestly, he had given it a lot of thought. More than he ever thought he would. But he sat quietly for a minute, to collect his thoughts, anyway. "You know, Dana. I believe you. I really do. And I do love you. I know that for certain. I suppose that I have always loved you, and I can't imagine that ever really changing. The three happiest days of my life involved you. The day you came back from college and were waiting for me on my porch, the day you married me and the day you gave me Emily." "I loved those days, and I am happy I will always have those memories and that I share them with you. You were my first love, and the love of my life, and nothing will ever change that. Do you remember the first time we made love?" "I would never forget that night, Kyle." "I know. That's not what I meant, though. Do you remember how nervous we were? Two virgins, fumbling in the dark. God, it was pathetic!" Dana laughed hard at that. "I know. It's so true." "And I remember when you were pregnant, and in the hospital on bed rest, and you were so sick and I was so scared. I prayed, so hard, that you would be OK. Because I knew I couldn't live without you and I knew I couldn't love you any more than I did. Then we took Emily home and you made me check the car seat four times and wouldn't let me drive faster than twenty-five. And I knew I was wrong, and that I actually could love you more. And I did." "Those are the memories I carry with me every day and they make me smile." "But then I remember that Emily died and took half my heart with her. And I needed you so much. And you blamed me for her death, for a reason that I still don't understand. Instead of finding comfort in your arms, I endured punishment after punishment from you. For an accident. For a crime I didn't commit. And then you embarrassed me, and disrespected me, and humiliated me. And I can't say that I will ever understand why." "So, no matter how much I love you, and I do, and no matter how many times I forgive you, and I have, I will always, ALWAYS hate you for that. Even if it's only a tiny bit. Unfortunately, as sad as that makes me, I know it's true and I think you do to." "Yeah, Kyle. I do." "In her room, Dana? Anywhere but her room." Dana signed the papers as she cried and left the room after giving Kyle a tender kiss on the cheek. If he had known she was going to move back to the west coast, and that he would never see her again, he might have said goodbye. *** A year later, Kyle found himself sitting under the shade of the massive oak trees. It was his monthly visit, and today was what would have been Emily's thirteenth birthday. "I brought you lilies today. Mrs. Johnson, at the flower shop, told me these are her favorite flowers. Even though Valentine's Day is just around the corner, and roses seem to be everywhere you look, I thought you might like these better. You know, to be original." "Who you talkin' too?" Kyle was startled as the tiny little girl plopped down on her knees right next to him. "Uhh, I was umm talking to my daughter." "Is she in heaven like my daddy?" Another Loss "Yes. Yes, she is in heaven." "My mommy talks to my daddy, too. But she cries a lot while they are talking so I decided to take a walk. Did you bring her those flowers?" "Yes, I did. Emily loved flowers." "I like flowers, too. I have some on my dress. See?" Her pudgy little fingers pulled the hem of her dress out so she could show him. "There's one. And there's one. I don't know how many there are. But there are a lot." "Yes, there certainly are." "My name is Brianna and I'm five." "Well, Brianna, I think that is a beautiful name for a beautiful little girl. I'm Kyle." "Do you know my mommy? She says that I'm b'utiful, too." "Well, your mommy sounds like a very smart woman but I don't think we've ever met. Do you think she might be wondering where you are?" "I think so. But I'm not sure I should go back. She told me, "Stay put!" And I said, "Yes, ma'am!" 'Cause that's what you're 'sposed to say when you're being good. But I got bored and now I am here with you. So she is going to be in a mood when I get back." "Well, maybe you and I should go together, so that she won't be worried. We can check her mood together, OK?" "OK. Maybe we should bring flowers. My daddy always brought my mommy flowers when he was in trouble." "That sounds like a very good idea." Kyle figured his best bet was to make their way back to the caretaker's house at the main gate. He was certain that's were a mother missing her child would go. He didn't want to frighten the little girl so they casually strolled back, with three lilies from Emily's bouquet. About halfway through their journey, Brianna took a hold of Kyle's hand as she stumbled and struggled to keep her balance on the damp grass in her dress shoes. Abi Jacobs realized that her daughter Brianna wasn't sitting behind her as soon as she finished crying. She hadn't meant to break down and lose control again. It had been more than a year, after all. But money was tight and the insurance money was almost gone, and she was working 60 hours to make ends meet and barely scraping by. She told her husband to sell that damn motorcycle but he never listened and her anger and frustration had spilled over once again. She panicked almost immediately, frantically searching around head stones looking for any sign of her daughter. Then, looking far off in the distance she saw Brianna, sitting on her knees in the grass talking to a man. Abi laughed quietly at the realization that this dress would soon match all the others, with giant grass stains at her knees. She was also shocked by two things. First, that her little peanut had been brave enough to wander that far. Second, that she seemed to be speaking to the man. Brianna had withdrawn almost immediately after her father had been killed in the accident, and she wouldn't even stand near any man, even her grandfather. But there she was. Chatting away. Abi felt like she should run down and reclaim her daughter, but she didn't get any sense that the man posed any kind of threat. Still, she watched them carefully. After a few minutes the pair started walking back towards her, but she didn't think they had seen her yet. Her hand rushed to her mouth and a tear formed in her eye as they got closer. Brianna had taken the man's hand, giggling and smiling as she slipped in her dress shoes. That smile always warmed Abi's heart, and unfortunately Brianna hadn't been smiling all that much lately. For the first time, she could see the man clearly and Abi had to giggle again. Her daughter had excellent taste in strangers. Tall and handsome, check and check. His jeans and t-shirt stretched in all the right spots to indicate that all of the best muscles were hidden underneath. But it was his casual stroll, and gentle laugh and voice, and the smile that was plastered to his face as he let Brianna lead the way, that started the tingling in her stomach. Those delicious feelings that she had put away while she mourned and coped, were rushing back. Kyle didn't notice the woman watching them until they were about 20 feet away but spoke up as soon as he noticed her. "Does this one belong to you?" "Oh, my GOD! Brianna, why did you wander off?!" The woman raced towards the girl and dropped to her knees hugging the little girl fiercely to her chest. "Mommy, you're squishin' my guts." "Don't ever do that again young lady!" The stern voice, didn't quite match the smirk on the young woman's face. Kyle guessed the woman was in her late-twenties. The blond curls were a match, so were the green eyes, and the cute part, too. It took the tug on his pant leg to make him realize that he had been staring. He looked down into Brianna's shining smile. "We're in trouble. Use the flowers," she whispered, a little too loudly. "OK, OK. Hi, I'm Kyle Watson." Kyle extended his hand and once he had hers, he couldn't quite force himself to let it go. "Abi Jacobs. Thank you for bringing my daughter back." "Oh, it was no trouble. Uh, these are for you." "Why, thank you, Kyle Watson." "You're welcome, Abi Jacobs." "I'm hungry," Brianna added. Kyle couldn't help but laugh and Abi soon followed. Brianna joined in so that she wouldn't feel left out. "Can I buy you ladies lunch?" Abi smiled and reached her hand up to touch her face to confirm that it was actually there. "Yeah, I think we'd really like that." *** Another Lousy Night "Just another lousy night," Riley muttered as she walked out into the night, leaving the whine and scream of the rock bar where she waitressed behind her. Lately it seemed that the tips were getting smaller and the numbers of hands groping her nightly were getting bigger. At first it was fun, dressing up in 80's grunge, going to work, getting a little slap and tickle and a big chunk of change all seemed worth it. The novelty of the place was wearing off and instead of enjoying the crowd and the night life; Riley dreaded walking this stretch of pavement to work more and more. Tonight everything just seemed to be going wrong. First she was late to work for which she got prime ass-ripping for, and then Riley was assigned to serve the men there for poker night. All old, lecherous men with their leering eyes and grabbing fingers. One had had the audacity to grab her and spank her repeatedly in his excitement over winning a big pot. Her butt was still sore from the thrashing she received for the rest of the night. She wouldn't have minded so much if it was from a young, virile man, instead of a wrinkly, limp geezer. Sighing, she put her head down, clutched the night's earnings in her coat pocket and walked faster, the cool November breeze freezing her bare legs. She watched the pattern of the street lamps on the pavement and thought of her dreary life. No friends, no family, no love...and a bad excuse for a job. After leaving her husband and their cold marriage behind in Iowa, Riley had moved west, hoping to find some place to begin a new life. Las Vegas seemed like a good choice, a place were everything could easily be forgotten. And so she settled in, found a cheap but decent apartment and went looking for work. She had waitressed a bit in college, before she had gotten married, so Riley thought it would be a good way to make some quick money to start out. And three years later she was still at the same joint she had started out in, in just about the same financial shape. Riley shook her head and looked forward, the click of her high heels echoing against the dark store fronts. She hugged herself against the chill and hurried on, the neon sign on her apartment building coming into view. Using her key code, Riley entered the building and walked up the four flights to her apartment, opened the door, tossed her stuff on the floor and leaned back against the closed door. The darkness and hush of the living room was welcoming, enveloping her in its soft caress. All depressed thoughts were shed from her mind as she removed each layer of clothing, dropping it on the floor as she walked to the bedroom. Moonlight fell in the windows, casting a silvery glow on the mirror beside her bed. A woman with tussled midnight locks, lush, feminine curves, and strong, silky legs stared back at her. Running her hands down her side, Riley caressed the sides of her soft white bosom, and down the flaring curves of her hips. Turning, one milky buttock was red, with the defined outline of a large hand. She chuckled, thinking that must have been one lusty man, and gently touched the rosy skin. A tingle of pain inflamed the flesh, sending a sliver of heat throughout her. It had disturbed her husband that she needed to feel pain to achieve real orgasm, but he also balked at anything other than missionary position once they had been married. How could a man go from wild and full of curiosity to pure conservatism? Shaking her head at the memory, Riley moved to the bed, pulling back the rich Egyptian cotton. It was cool against her bare flesh, chilling her arousal. She closed her eyes, the fringe of her lashes tickling the skin, and cleared her mind for sleep. A sharp knocking on the door startled her awake, pulling her from a dream of men and leather. Looking around the room for her robe it was still dark, moonlight still littering her bedroom floor. The knocking continued, getting louder. Peering through the peephole, Riley groaned. Jack, fuck. "Go away, I'm sleeping Jack," she ground out. "Ri, answer the door. Come on, please," he whined, putting his hands down to his sides. Growling in frustration she opened the door and Jack hurried past chased by the scent of pure male musk. Why did he always have to smell so damn good, she thought, closing and locking the door. Turning around she watched him pace back and forth in the dark, fists clenched at his sides. "What happened this time?" "Ri, I didn't do anything. She just kicked me out. I haven't cheated on her since before we went to therapy. Things were going great and then tonight, I get home, and my stuff is sitting on the front steps and the locks are changed," Jack said, running a hand through his short, salt and pepper hair. He had started turning gray when they were sophomores in high school. Jack always said they made him look more sophisticated. Riley had thought so too until he crushed her by wanting to date her best friend instead of her. Then they had the bad taste to go and get married while she was away on her honeymoon. Some how they had stayed friends, though Riley still kept a healthy dose of resentment towards him and the fact that he didn't know how much she secretly loved him. Looking away from him before that resentment rose up and bubbled out of her mouth, she flopped down on the couch as he cursed and rambled about his wife and how she was crazy. Finally, after listening to him rant and rave for an hour, Riley sat up. "Will you just quit bitching about her Jack? Please? Fuck, I had a shitty night, you woke me up, and then you make me sit here and hear about a fucking woman who doesn't give a fuck about you!" Jack stopped in his tracks and stared at Riley in shock, further feeding the fire. "I don't give a shit if you stay here, but don't make me listen to you moan over that stupid bitch!" she cried, throwing her hands down, standing up and stomping up to him to poke him in the chest. Grabbing her hand, Jack stopped her and held her in front of him. Riley glared up at him, her body vibrating with irritation. "What the hell has gotten in to you? Christ, if you're gonna be like that forget it. I'll stay at James'," he yelled, pushing her back and stalking to the door. "Oh fuck Jack. Don't be such a god-damn baby," Riley growled, pulling him back over to the couch. "I'll get you a pillow. You can sleep here." Pushing him onto the couch she went to her room. Digging through the cedar chest, she muttered to herself about men and manipulation. A soft caress on her bum made her yelp and jump forward, clutching at the robe. "What the hell Jack!" she screamed at him, tying the belt tightly. "What happened to your butt? Looks like you took a helluva beating," he said as he reached forward, wanting to inspect it again. "You've got handprints all over the back of your thigh and butt!" "I know I do. What the hell were you doing looking there anyways?" she grouched, embarrassed that she wanted him to touch it again. "Well I didn't mean to, but you're walking around in the tiny thing and I couldn't miss the red mark on the back of your leg," Jack grumbled, stepping back from her. "What happened?" "Not that it's any of your concern, but I had a few customers get a little too friendly with my butt," Riley said, turning back around to get the dropped pillow and blanket. "I can't believe they can get away with that! Old fuckers," he mumbled behind her back, again looking at the redness that glared out at him on her pale skin. "I hurt?" "A little. I've had worse," she grunted, lifting the load in her arms and carrying it towards the living room. Jack stopped her, grabbed the linens from her arms, threw them down and bent her over the bed to better get a look. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" Riley cried, kicking back at him. "Stop being a damn baby. I'm a doctor, let me look," Jack replied, lightly pressing around the welted areas. Riley had to bite her lip as a soft moan escaped her. Inspecting her, he touched lightly, barely palpating the skin. His fingers moved steadily up the back of her thigh, coming ever so close to the bundle of nerves between her legs. "You've got a nice bruise right here," he said softly, rubbing his fingertip next to the cleft of her buttocks. That time an audible moan hissed from her lips. Jack glanced up at the back of her head as she tried to hide in the covers. He pushed more firmly, indenting a particularly red area with his own handprint. The heat from his hand further increased the heat of her flesh, forcing her eyes closed and her head to fall back. Jack watched her, entranced by the pleasure emanating from Riley. He stroked his hand down her rump to her knees, then stroked back up slowly, spreading his fingers wide. A visible tremor passed through Riley, and her hips instinctively pressed back into him, as she parted her legs further. Moisture glistened from between her thighs, clinging to the dark tendrils. Jack placed both hands on her flesh, feeling his manhood harden at the sight of Riley's pleasure. He massaged her soft and pliable buttocks, then raised one hand and lightly tapped the left cheek. Riley cried out, her fingernails digging into the bedspread. Slivers of pain sparked a torch within her, sending raging fire along her nerves. Again he tapped her ass, and again. Each slap brought more pleasure and in a gush of fluid Riley came, writhing on the bed as he spanked her again. Her climax was strong and unexpected, arousing Jack even more. He quickly undid the snap of his jeans, pushing them off in one fluid motion then leaning forward and sliding his erection deep inside her. Her vagina quivered around him as it stretched and made room, the juices coating her walls helping speed the process. Riley clawed the bed, screaming out again as waves of lust slammed through her with his cock. "Jesus Christ! Oh, God," Jack moaned, thrusting harder into her, grimacing in pleasure as the wetness clenched around his girth. He raised his hand again, slapping her harder and leaving a mark of his own as he pushed his entire length into her depths. She squirmed, pressing back to meet his thrusts and impaling herself upon him as he struck her backside. As another orgasm threatened to wash over her, Jack grunted and grabbed her hips, slamming into her, sending them both over the edge. Riley reared back as she came; screaming his name, then fell forward and passed out. His own orgasm rode him hard, filling every inch on his body with heaven. As Riley passed out he caught her and laid her on the bed, concern taking the place of pleasure. "Riley! Riley, are you ok? Ri?" Jack yelled, shaking her roughly and opening her eyes. "Wh-what...ooooh God," she moaned, opening her icy eyes and meeting the chocolate orbs above her. "What happened?" "You scared the shit out of me! Here I was, fucking you and you pass out!" he cried, fear making him grab Riley and shake her again. "STOP! Stop it, stop it!" She cried, coming out of her pleasure induced funk. As her eyes focused, Riley wrenched her arms out of his hands. "Christ Jack! I fucking came and...well it happens sometimes," she snapped, rolling away from him and off of the bed. She reached down yanked her robe in place and walked to stand in front of the mirror. "What a girl can't orgasm anymore? What the hell Jack?" "Hey, you seriously passed out. You-you were almost blue there for a second," he said, sitting up and stalking towards her, his finger raised in her direction. "Well I'm breathing now, so get away from me," she yelled, shoving him away from her. "I didn't ask you to bend me over and fuck me! You are the one who started the whole thing." "If I had known that you would cream just by me examining your butt, I probably wouldn't have done it," Jack growled, glaring down at her. Riley's anger melted away with his words. "Thanks a lot Jack. Thanks so fucking much!" She yelled, the resentment bubbling out of her. "I'm glad that meant so goddamn much to you." Riley stomped away to the doorway of her bedroom and looked back in fury. "Get the hell out of my house. Don't EVER come back to me when you need to bitch about that stupid whore! I DON'T WANT TO HEAR IT!" Tears flowing down her cheeks, she slammed the door to the bathroom and slammed the lock. Astounded Jack slumps back on the bed, his jaw slack with shock. No. Not possible. After all these years? Scenes from their past floated through his mind; she was there for him always, even when he wasn't the nicest guy. He walked towards the bathroom door and knocked gently, her whimpers as she cried causing a physical ache in his chest. "Ri, I didn't know. Why didn't you say anything?" his voice soft in regret. Her crying got louder as he spoke until she shook with the sobs. "GET AWAY! I don't want to hear it, and I don't want your fucking pity!" she screamed, her voice choked with tears. "Riley, come on, talk to me about this," he pleaded, frustration creeping into his voice. Jack leaned his head against the wall, listening as she cried and cursed him. He said her name again, hoping to get her to open the door. "I didn't know. I never saw you as other than a sister before," he said, closing his eyes and banging his head on the door. "A sister? Would a fucking sister sit there and listen to you brag about your damn conquests and sooth you when every damn one of them backfired?" Riley went to the door, ripped it open and stopped as Jack stumbled into her. He caught them both before they ended up on the floor, and looked into her eyes. Flecks of ice shot at him like daggers in her blue eyes. Jack reached forward and smoothed his hand over her cheek, brushing at the angry tears trailing down her face. Riley swatted his hand away and struggled away from him. "Don't touch me! Just leave Jack!" she cried, her voice cracking with rage and defeat. Riley cinched the belt on her robe tightly and shoved past him into the bedroom when he didn't move. Why won't he just leave? Hasn't he done enough to me tonight? Riley thought, throwing the covers off her bed in a huff. She turned around to yell at Jack again, but he was right behind her, so close that her breasts brushed up against his chest when she took a breath. His eyes were intense, swirling with molten copper. Riley took a deep breath to ask him to leave again, but Jack reacted, grasping her upper arms firmly and pulling her mouth to his, devouring her already swollen lips. Riley's first thought was to push him away, which just made Jack hold her more tightly and to deepen the kiss. She couldn't deny what his assault was doing to her but allow with the desire racing through her blood was also fear that he would use her and then leave her. Jack's grip got tighter as he demanded more from her, forcing her mouth open with his tongue and delving deep, tasting her sweetness. Riley allowed the intrusion but made an invasion of her own, nipping at his tongue and lips, her nails skimming down the musculature of his back. One hand slid from Riley's arm and up her neck, his fingers tangling in the ebony tresses. Taking control again, Jack pulled, forcing her head back and exposing the pale flesh of her neck. A grimace crossed Riley's face but was quickly gone as her eyes closed and lips formed an "O" of pleasure when Jack bent down and ravaged her neck. He couldn't get enough of her taste! He wanted to devour her and yet to savor her as one would a fine wine. Jack nibbled down her neck then lapped at the hurt with his tongue, a feeling of pure masculine power flooding through him as she shivered in need. Her scent wafted in the air, further empowering the beast inside him. Jack walked her backwards and tossed her on the bed, following her down and settling in between her thighs. He growled as he felt her moisture and heat pressed against his rigidness. Jack ground against her, the denim of his jeans rough against the slick heat of her womanhood. Riley arched under him, the friction against her most tender areas causing a unique pain and incredible pleasure to bloom throughout. She tried to touch him, to hold him closer against her and Jack grabbed her wrists, holding them down to the bed with one hand. With the other he pushed the robe open, exposing the heavy peaks of her breasts. Without a glance at her, Jack swooped, taking one nipple fiercely in his mouth. Riley bucked and writhed, trying to free her hands, her mind lost to his onslaught. He stroked his free hand down her hip and gripped the back of my thigh, pulling it up around his hip. When she wrapped her legs around him, Jack attacked the other breast, giving it the same ravaging treatment, while his fingers dig into the muscle of her thigh, forcing her groin tighter against him. "Jack....oooh fuck Jack," Riley moaned, again trying to free her hands to unleash the beast in his jeans. Her words spurred him on, and all Jack could think of was being sheathed inside her quivering depths. Jack released her hands and sat back on his heels to unbutton his pants. Riley opened her eyes, meeting the hard edge of Jack's need in his stare. She kept his gaze and got up on her needs, dropping her hands to his waist and pushing his hands away. Jack let her, bringing one hand up to her cheek and sliding his fingers into the knot of hair at her nape. His eyes closed when her warm fingers circled the engorged shaft, the other hand cupping his testes. Riley stroked slowly up his length, reveling in the groans wrung from his throat. Jack opened his eyes and made a fist in her hair, pushing her head downward, not allowing any resistance. She put up a fight for show, but it was only for show. Riley wanted him in her mouth; she was positively salivating at the idea. Getting down on all fours, she looked up at him again, and then let him guide her lips to the tip. Her tongue flicked out hungrily, gathering his musky taste. The gentle teasing of her ministrations felt good, but Jack wanted more. With a twist of his wrist he forced her mouth completely on his length until the stricture of her throat gripped him. Riley gagged, unaccustomed to such girth and length. She tried to swallow around him, to make room for him and her tongue, then he pulled back, and Riley sucked hard, wanting to keep him there once she was comfortable. Jack shivered and could feel himself tightening even more. He pulled her forward again and began fucking her mouth with fervor, reaching out with his other hand to slap her already reddened buttocks. The first blow resonated through her, wringing a cry from her full mouth. Riley sucked harder, her mind gone, her senses enveloped entirely in the experience. He ground his teeth, torn between filling her sweet mouth with his seed or the hot cavern of her sex. The hand resting on her bum moved down, his fingers searching for her core, becoming coated with juices. Bringing them up to his mouth he tasted her essence and wanted nothing more than to be buried to the hilt inside her. Jack pulled her head off of him, picked her up, and turned her around and pushed her shoulders down so her delectably crimson ass rose up in the air. Without a second thought he dove in, his head tossed back as her walls stretched to accommodate him. Riley cried out and tried to rear back, fighting against Jack's hand holding her head down. She leaned back, meeting his thrust, squeezing him inside her. Marveling at her muscle control, Jack pulled completely out and then slammed into Riley again, rocking her forward. This time he halted wanting to savor the heat and quivering of her body. His hands gripped her sides, pulling her up onto her knees and caressing his way to her pendulous breasts. Riley gasped, covering his hands with her own, overwhelmed with sensation. He began to slowly rock back and forth, pulling almost completely out and then sliding forward until his pelvis rested on the curve of her ass. He urged her to drop her head back on his shoulder, allowing him to taste her neck and sensitive ears. Encouraged by the sounds of pleasure erupting from her lips, Jack increased his pace, slid his hands down to her hips, and then walked his fingers to the cleft of her mound. The tip of his finger brushed the tip of her nubbin, sending fire up her veins. He stroked it harder, matching the rhythm with the thrusts of his pelvis. Jack could feel a tightening in his core and urged her on, wanting to feel the caress of her climax on his manhood.