Tuesday, August 24, 2010

Wicked Word Wednesday - Episode 3 - Farewell

Rational talks, insane screamfests, and more sadness than she cared to recount hadn't won her his respect or trust. Five years and over a thousand soul-shaking orgasms later, it's time to pen The End and close the book. Jeff and his bossy, pushy, clingy, controlling attitudes were about to be history.

Grace couldn't force herself to remain committed to a relationship that filled most of her waking hours with misery. At some point, she hadn't had the strength to leave. Back when she was still familiar with the concept of hope.

Now, walking away had become easier than staying. Sure, there'd be tears – but they'd be the last Jeff would ever cost her. Small price to pay for the return of her self-respect, dignity, and confidence he'd held hostage.

Jeff's car pulling into the garage set her knees to trembling. Grace glanced around the room cluttered with boxes of his belongings, and for a microsecond, doubt tickled her resolve. She took a deep breath, and squared herself to the door when she heard the rattling knob announce his entrance.

Their eyes locked as he crossed the kitchen. Jeff eyed the boxes stacked in the living room, and laid the cut flowers on the top of the nearest pile. "You were serious."


"I love you."

Grace took his hands in hers. She hated the slump of his shoulders, the pain in his eyes. Flashes of all the times he'd left her dejected flitted through her mind, and bolstered her courage. "Maybe you do. You don't trust me. You don't respect me. You don't encourage or understand me. I love you; I can't live with you."

"I've got nowhere to go."

"You've got the rest of the week to figure it out. I'm going to visit mom. I'll be back Saturday night, you need to be gone."

"I will. I'm sorry."

"Me too. It's not enough."

Jeff pulled her close, and wrapped her in his arms. His breathing stuttered and the tremble in his voice stole her breath. "I know."

Grace closed her eyes, and tried to still the fuzzy brainwaves and boiling blood their bodies always created on contact. If only their emotional bond rocked like their physical connection did. If. She locked with his gaze, and swam away in desire. She couldn't stop the pounding of her pulse or the stiffening of her nipples any more than she could stop breathing.

He covered her lips with his, and the sensations continued to swirl until her knees were weak. He took her hand and led her toward the bedroom; she never considered resisting.

Grace sat on the edge of the bed while Jeff rifled through her vanity. The idea barely occurred to wonder what he was up to before he emerged holding a fluffy blush brush. He wore the sexy grin that captured her heart in the beginning.

He tossed the brush on the bed, and pulled her to her feet. Time ticked in reverse as he peeled her clothing, and tossed each piece aside. He turned her to face the bed, pressed his body to her, and nuzzled her neck.

Mesmerized by his touch, she gave up any attempt at coherent thought, and willed herself to memorize this moment. With every caress, the heat of his lips slipped beneath her skin to awaken all of her senses. Every breath she took ground his spicy scent into her memory. Each place their skin kissed, flames of desire raged.

Jeff's gentle touch urged her down to the mattress, and she did as he bid.

Every feathery touch of the brush up her leg stoked the fire rising inside her. She arched against his caresses, wanting more, needing his skin on hers. He painted desire over her entire backside, with sadistic slowness. Time moved backwards, while she writhed and moaned below him and the ache inside swelled.

Grace sighed at the feel of his hands on her, and bit back disappointment when she discovered they were only there to turn her over. Without hesitation, he moved to her feet and began his delicious torture anew. By the time he painted his way to her breasts, her grip on sanity had lost a lot of ground.

She grabbed his head and brought his mouth to her nipple. The motion brought most of his body in contact with hers, and the need to have him inside of her made her dizzy.

Jeff dropped the brush, and continued exploring with his fingers. Grace wriggled closer to him, and positioned her opening against his erection, but he didn't accept her invitation. She ground her hips toward him, but he had her pinned in a way that limited how much of him she could consume.

Grace put both hands against his chest, pushed, and rolled on top of him. She straddled his thighs, and began a smoldering exploration of her own. The soft curls on his legs yielded to her touch. Her eyes locked on his hard cock. She would miss it, but first, a kiss goodbye was in order.

His closed eyes and rocking hips spurred her on. She teased and licked for an eternity before she brought her mouth all the way to the base, and moaned against him. Unable to resist herself, she climbed up to mount him.

Something snapped in Grace the instant she had him buried to the hilt. Her desperate bid for happiness and independence surfaced. She no longer focused on giving him pleasure. Grace ground into him with a furious appetite to reach her peak. She didn't care if he came along for the ride or not.

She rode his stiff body until the wave hit, every muscle in her body quivered to the beat of her heart, and still she ground against him. Her world got more colorful; the scent of sex that hung in the air invigorated her. Every sound of release and joy they shared pushed her further and harder until she collapsed spent.

When her knees stopped quaking enough that she trusted them to carry her, she climbed off the bed and put her clothes on.

"Where you going, baby?"

"We're done here. I'm leaving."

Jeff's only response was to meet her eyes.

Grace didn't bother to analyze everything she saw there. They'd gone beyond all that. She took one long last look at his body, remembered how he had brought her so much pleasure, and remembered the pain it had cost. She picked up her bag from the floor, and whispered, "Thanks, sexy." Grace stepped away, and closed the door behind her.


jcdeacons said...

She just has sex like a man! Good for her. -Jc

Penelope said...

She took what was good about the relationship, what always held her there, and let it propel her out of it. Let it give her strength instead of weaken her. :) At least that was what I hoped to portray...

brenda said...

Jeez, Troll, that brought tears to my eyes. When I was younger, I had a relationship like that. Wicked awesome sex, but when we were out of the bedroom we just couldn't connect.
This is a very sweet, empowering, sensual story.
You get an A plus!
Thanks for sharing.

Penelope said...

Thanks Troll2. I have a theory:
It's wiser and less painful to grab a guy that connects outside the bedroom and teach him which buttons to push between the sheets. Besides - practicing the lessons is fun too. ;)

brenda said...

Yep, you're theory rocks. when I met my husband, he was that "bad boy", but he only looked the bad boy, lol, inside he was starved for love--real love. Crap, I remember when I first saw him: long black hair, leather jacket, little stubble on the jaw, earring, tattoos.....
I got the best of both, bad boy look, and sweet beta male inside. Besides, I like being the more dominant of us. It works well, lol. Mainly I think he just let's me pretend I'm more dominant. Or else he has put two and two together and realized allowing me to be more dominant equals more playtime between the sheets, lol.