Page 63 of Hurt to Love
He pulled his head back and looked at me with so much love in his eyes I wanted to climb inside him. Live as one being and never leave the warmth of his heart.
“You’ve been through so much tonight. I just want to hold you.” He frowned, as if he was at war with his own mind. “I don’t want to push you into doing anything else.”
“But I need this,” I said, making sure he could see from my expression and tone that I wasn’t some weakened little flower or delicate snowflake, ready to crumble at the slightest touch. “I need you, Cill. I need to feel as close to you as I can be. It’s what makes me…”
I didn’t get to finish my little speech. He covered my mouth with his, kissing me like he was a starving man, and I was his only life source. His lifeline. I pushed his boxers down and he kicked them off at the bottom of the bed then slipped the straps of my nightdress down and off. He feathered kisses along my jaw, my neck, and then back to my mouth.
We sighed and moaned. We kissed and stroked. And even though this wasn’t our first time together, it felt like it was. This wasn’t fucking or screwing. It wasn’t even making love. We were worshipping each other. Drowning in each other until the bubble we created blocked out the rest of the world, and all that existed was us, this feeling and our touches.
He reached his hand down to rub between my legs, and when he felt how wet I was for him, he slid himself into me, and we both cried out at the feeling of being so deeply connected. His cock stretching me, massaging me, loving me until I couldn’t breathe. And I was clenched tightly around him, stroking him, pulling him into me where he belonged. We held each other tightly and whispered our love for each other as we rocked together. A slow, steady rhythm of love that grew stronger with each thrust.
Our connection went beyond physical. This was spiritual. Soul-infusing. Pure love. As the yearnings turned to desperation for each other, the steady rhythm we’d created began to increase. Cill pushed up on his arms to look me right in the eyes as he sank into me over and over again. Our faces were so close it was like we were breathing the same air. Looking at each other, we could see the love we held deep inside our hearts reflected through our eyes as our bodies experienced the sparks and fireworks of that love.
“Come for me, baby.” Cill gasped as he closed his eyes slightly, then opened them again to show me the raw passion within.
I arched my back and came hard, crying out as he grabbed my legs and buried his face into my neck. The pulsing of his thick cock sent me over the edge and gave me aftershocks that coursed through my body.
As we both came down from our high, we held onto each other like we were each other’s raft in a dark and vast sea. In many ways, we were. He’d been my saviour in a twisted, cruel world, and even though I still had my demons to conquer, I knew that with him by my side, I could defeat anything that this life had to throw at me. From all the hurt I’d endured, love had eventually saved me.
One week later…
“So,how have you been since we last spoke? I know it’s only been a week since you went through those traumatic events we’ve talked about. What’s happened since then?”
I was sitting in my counsellor Ange’s office, on a grey and dreary Monday morning. I didn’t usually do appointments in her offices; I always used to feel more comfortable at the house. But I felt like I needed to get out of Cill’s apartment for a bit and push myself out of my comfort zone to help the healing process. Life was going on all around me and I didn’t want to miss it anymore. So, there I was, sitting in Ange’s oversized armchair and hugging the matching fluffy cushion to my chest.
“I saw my mum.” I felt my throat tighten, as it always seemed to do just lately whenever I spoke about her. She’d gone through just as much as I had. The only thing was, she didn’t have someone like Cill to watch out for her and get her the best counselling money could buy. I was determined to change that though.
“Mum’s struggling with everything. She’s decided to move down here to be closer to us. I was hoping I could bring her to my next appointment. Maybe get her a few sessions of her own?”
“You know she’s always welcome, and yes, speak to Mark, my secretary, before you leave. Let’s get her booked in.” Ange smiled, and as always she instantly put me at ease.
“She had no idea about what my father was doing. She feels so much guilt.”
“That’s understandable. We can work through that with her.”
“I was scared to visit. I didn’t know if my father would be there, but he wasn’t. She told me he’d been found months ago, hanging from a tree in a woodland area not far from our house. It happened not long after I went missing, apparently, and the police thought there was a connection between his death and my disappearance. You see, he was hanging, but there was no suicide note. The coroner found evidence of a struggle and other injuries to suggest he’d been forced into the noose. No one really cared though, not when they found out about the other stuff on his laptop. They figured his death and my kidnapping was somehow linked to a paedophile ring that they were trying to shut down. That’s why they kept his death out of the media. They didn’t want to jeopardise the case.”
“And how doyoufeel about his death?” she asked with a soft voice.
“Honestly? I’m relieved I’ll never have to see him again. He didn’t deserve to live. Does that make me a bad person? I mean, he was still my dad.”
“You’re entitled to feel how you want to about it, Paige. There are no right or wrong answers here. One day, you may wake up feeling the weight of the loss. The grief may catch up with you at any moment. If and when it does, we’ll deal with it. This is a process, remember. A journey. There are no quick fixes, only paths and choices we make. I’m here to help you navigate your way through it all. Think of me as your tour guide, making sure we get you to the right place no matter how many stops it takes along the way.”
I loved Ange’s view on things. She made everything less daunting. All my little victories she celebrated like I’d won the Olympics.
“Did you see your brother, Michael?”
“Yes.” My shoulders relaxed and I sank back further into the armchair. “He’s doing okay considering everything we’ve all gone through. He’s changed his last name. He didn’t want to spend the rest of his life burdened with dad’s name.”
“How do you feel about that?” Ange asked.
“I’m not sure, really. He’s not called Michael Olsen anymore. He’s taken Mum’s maiden name, Bradbury. I guess it doesn’t bother me that much, it’s just a name. I’ve had several over the last few months, and Cill’s always finding new ones.” She chuckled. She knew Cill and his little quirks all too well. “I’m glad I’ve got my big brother back in my life, and that’s all that matters.” I sighed then addressed the elephant in the room. “He wasn’t hurt by our dad. That gave me some kind of comfort.”
“I’m sure it did.” She nodded gravely.
“He said he has friends who’ve approached the police since this all came out. They weren’t so lucky.” I glanced down at my feet, feeling the shame wash over me.
“You do know none of that was your fault. You, your mum, and Michael aren’t responsible for your father’s actions.”
