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Crowded Places II
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2020-07-29 19:21:45Staring back at the man whose eyes shone with something dark and hidden, lips firmed into the same line they always had, face so clear of any hint he’d been joking, Blue laughed rather harshly.
“I must really be screwed if that’s all you can think of,”
“I’m serious—think about it,” Standing slowly, paper forgotten by their feet, fingers twisting with hers, Blue somehow felt in some strange way that the idea wasn’t as crazy as she had first thought it. His eyes bore down on hers with the weight of deep pressure therapy. Lulled any worries. Embraced her where his arms had not. She stood with him. “It’s the only thing that makes sense,”
“You can’t fight crazy with crazy.”
“On the contrary,” Wrapping his arms around the woman’s shoulders, Vincent wished—however momentarily—that she’d had a shirt to wear. With her breasts all but falling from her bra and her heart pressing into his chest
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As Blue ate, she found it rather difficult to quash daydreams of her night spent with Vincent. They’d spent the better half of their day shopping. He had taken her halfway across town to a cheap diner for a pancake dinner at her own behest. They’d gotten into his apartment late. He’d entertained her desire for a traditional proposal. Vincent took her to his balcony. The wind had swept up through her skirt and billowed through her hair. She could hear the traffic even dozens of floors below. Smell the city. Light from the apartment had poured in through the larger windows, warming the man as he sunk to a crouch before her. He pulled out the ring she had chosen herself, yellow gold, and said the four words so plainly. Yet she’d never heard them quite the same. She’d worn the ring to bed with him, though they hadn’t slept much. He woke up at four-thirty in the morning to drive her home. She’d made it back just in time to sneak in for breakfast. &
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Blue had never expected that the people watching her as she walked down the aisle would be her husband’s housekeepers. She had always assumed Anya would be present, at the very least. Rather, hoped she would. Vincent had done rather well with only two days to make any arrangements. They’d chosen to marry at his penthouse, the very balcony he’d indulged Blue in the fake proposal. He’d thrown pots of white roses about—of which Blue had already planned where to place around the apartment when they were done. Strung fairy lights from the glass panelling overlooking the city. Cleared away the alfresco dining table and chairs. A wreath of tuberose and gardenia circled them where an arch couldn’t. They hadn’t found an officiant with so little in the way of notice. A priest stood waiting with Vincent, instead. She didn’t have the time to find a dress she’d wanted in her size. Though, she had always imagined some princess grown with gold
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"You know, taking me to all your business meetings when my mother might have filed a missing person report by now probably isn't the best idea," Blue avoided Vincent's eyes due to the sheer possibility her cheeks would be bright red—he had kept one hand on the steering wheel the whole drive back to the hotel and the other onher; one part of her body or the other. Of course, when he laced his fingers with hers, the touch had been rather tame. At odd moments on the highway where he didn't have to think too much at all, he'd hook a hand beneath her underwear and trace the length of her in the most painful way she could ever imagine. She'd wanted nothing more than to fuck his hand as though her life depended on it but lacked the sheer valor and instead settled on rocking her head back and pressing her lips together as she fisted the edge of her seat and held back a cry of frustration. "You're eighteen, Blue, I haven't stolen a child from their home—did yo
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Staring up at the man, she wondered if she should beg as she wanted to so dearly. Yet his eyes met her with the same softness they had standing at their do-it-yourself altar. Regardless of whether they married in haste out of pure necessity, Blue felt no guilt in taking for granted they’d married for love in those few moments. Convinced herself quietly that he cared for her as deeply as she for him. Sunk back into her own inventions where they ran away and started a family of their own. And though she felt a fond smile she hadn’t the mind to suppress would betray her fantastic delusions, Vincent merely straightened. Shrugged a throw over his shoulders. Pinned it beneath his arms. Hid the woman from the world as though they’d been watched and pressed into her somewhat gently. Traced the blossoming red marks that encircled her neck with his lips. Pushed his hips into hers rather crudely… Whether inspired by his ever-advancing orgasm or any genuine sentiment, he consid
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Blue hadn’t managed a week away from home when she found she had started to miss Anya. The woman had woken her every day for eighteen years. Bid her goodnight at the end of each day. Prepared her meals. Used the scented detergent she liked. Bought her toiletries. Listened to her petty grievances. Knew how to cook her eggs. How to make her bed in a way the loose sheets wouldn’t bother her. How to untangle the hair she was rather tempted to cut as short as she could. How to ease the girl’s worry with the gentle smile she always had. Though Blue feared Anya hadn’t missed her. Marian hadn’t crossed her mind in quite some time. She’d been away from home for a meager week. Vincent woke her each morning. They’d eat breakfast together. He’d set off to work, come home for lunch. They’d eat rather quickly. End up half-naked one way or the other, fuck and redress in a mere fifteen minutes. And she’d be left on her own until he’d return from work. With h
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Vincent, freshly bathed with beads of water gathering at the fringe and a towel dangerously low on his narrow hips was a sight to behold. But perhaps even greater, was a half-naked Blue, arm thrown over her eyes, hair sitting in a mass beneath her, his own tee-shirt ridden up around her stomach and briefless nether region on full display to the prying eyes of a particularly aroused and thoroughly showered man. Despite the primal instinct to amend her nakedness with his own mouth and take on his tongue what he longed to taste so dearly, he shifted his weight with a sigh against the doorframe and watched the full frame of his dearwifebecome cast with his own shadow. "Ever since I met you, I've pictured you in my bed like this," "You have?" The darkness enveloping her shrunk with his every step forward until all that remained was a fraction of the looming shadow that had been. Much to his delight, a sliver of the bathroom light fell between he
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Blue had never dreamed of being married at eighteen. She’d managed to cook dinner for them a handful of times, with the help of online recipes. Though she hadn’t eaten much at all after her weeklong battle with food poisoning post-hotel food crash diet. She’d changed their sheets on her own. Washed and hung the laundry with the help of Vincent’s housekeepers. Shaved the man. Washed the dishes. Rearranged the bedroom to her liking, more from boredom than anything. Managed to shower once a day for almost an entire week. Vincent, on the other hand, seemed to make no adjustments. He woke up at six-thirty in the morning like clockwork, no alarm needed. Rolled over and placed a quick kiss on Blue’s shoulder, who always turned onto her side in her sleep. Trudged into the kitchen where he made bedroom eyes at his beloved espresso machine while he waited for it to turn on. He would let Blue sleep until seven, after which he’d gently wake her. He’d brush his teeth whi
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Blue broke away. Hastily, she wiped at her lips and stepped around the corner with her arms out — Vincent watched with a small, half-hidden smirk of amusement… She was too caught up in pretending she wasn’t about to be finger-fucked that she failed to notice just how out of character it was for her to hug her mother. “Blue?” with stiff arms, she folded her daughter into an embrace, awfully careful not to mess up her hair. “I didn’t even know you were — when did you get here?” “The bus just got here,” She wasn’t lying — it was something she had become good at; telling the truth without telling the truth. “I’m lucky Vincent was coming in, the doorbell wasn’t working for me,” With a drop of the placid smile Marian had surprisingly managed, she turned to the man. “A business call again? Do you not understand the point of a Sunday?” “Insurance is a busy field; people are dying every day,” “Where’s the food?
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Her skirt was over her stomach in a matter of seconds, underwear kicked beneath the bed. Heart racing, fingertips beating in the tips of her fingers curled up into her palms, Blue spread her legs with no further instruction. Released a long, shaky breath as her husband hooked her legs over his shoulders and breathed into the inside of her thigh. But she stared at the roof. Watched the shadow cast by the lamp behind him loom over her, growing in size as he neared. And all she could feel was his hot, damp exhale fanning her center; his opened mouth quick to follow. “I still can’t believe I’m your wife.” She grumbled the words quietly, arching her back as his lips closed around her and his teeth grazed her labia. “I’m a lucky man.” He grumbled back, his voice twisting through her and carrying its echo deep into her stomach. “I can’t believe that you were so adamant you never wanted to see me again after your birthday party and now you’ve got your pussy i
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“Are you joking?” He had his wife’s face in his hands again, staring between her narrowed eyes with a look of expectation now not quite as well-hidden. “You actually went to the police?”“Of course, I did, all the love I had left for him went when I found out how much my mom actually cares.” She looked like she’d thought it rather obvious. Despite the fact she’d been defending him for so long. “He could be sentenced to death, and I’ll be happy to do it.”“You don’t mean that,” he’d released her, sitting back on the edge of the bed, hands on his knees. But she’d rocked forward. Wrapped her fingers through the sides of his hair. Met his eyes with a stare he wasn’t quite so daffy to break.“He told me it was my own fault Richard hurt me.”“But Richard’
