Page 55 of Stitch
“Please stop talking like you want to push me away, Stitch. I’m not going anywhere.”
I moved, lurching up from the hard lid of the toilet, and forcing her to backpedal a few steps.
“Yeah? Well, I will be, won’t I? And I was a fucking asshole to put all of this on you. You want to be by my side? Will you still want that when I’m hairless and emaciated, shitting in a bag, and barely alive? No. You’ll wish you’d never met me. This was a fucking mistake, and I’m so sorry. Jesus, I’m sorry.”
I shoved past her, and staggered forward a few steps when she shoved me from behind.
“What the fuck?”
“Don’t do that, you prick! Don’t talk at me like you want me to run from you, from my responsibilities.”
I rounded on her as her words were still sinking in for both of us.
“Responsibilities? Yeah, that’s it, you’re getting it now, aren’t you? Who do you think is gonna have to mop up my vomit, and wipe my ass when I can’t anymore? You gonna relish being my fucking wife then? I didn’t think so.”
Cammy
I’d heard of peoplewaking up on the wrong side of the bed, but what the hell was this? Panic attacks I could more than understand. I’d been there myself so many times after… but this, this was like he was hating on himself for being with me, and it didn’t make sense. He didn’t trick me into anything, or force me. In fact, he’d been very clear that consent mattered to him, showing me the decent guy inside him, inside the leather cut that so many lesser men would wear and sully with their cruelty.
“Stitch, I swear to god, I’m gonna punch you in a minute.”
He returned from the bedroom where he’d already dragged on underwear and finished pulling a t-shirt over his head.
“Go right ahead, darlin’. I’m pretty sure I fucking deserve it. Once you’ve done that, I’m driving us back to the clubhouse, so we can sort out getting this shit wrapped up, and you can go back to your life.”
I shoved past him to grab clothes too, because this wasn’t an argument to have naked, and more than that, I wished we weren’t having it at all. I grabbed underwear and a t-shirt and jeans from the clothes they’d packed for me, for our honeymoon.
Our honeymoon… it was supposed to be a happy time, full of love and sex, and pleasure. Why the hell was he pushing me away when he should be holding me closer? I got as far as pulling on the underwear, and then I was crying. How had things gone so wrong so fast? All I wanted was for Stitch to wrap his arms around me, and tell me he loved me, so why was he so intent on throwing away everything we had? Everything we could be.
“Jesus… don’t cry, my god, I’m so sorry, babe.” Suddenly he was giving me exactly what I wanted, his strong arms wrapping around me from behind, while he made shushing sounds as I sobbed silently in his arms.
“Why…”
“I’m no good, babe, haven’t you figured that out yet? I thought I was at least a decent guy, but it turns out I’m just a selfish asshole. I’m so sorry. You’ll be better off without me.”
I broke his hold on me and turned to look at him, watching his face soften as he took in my tearful sorrow. Stitch cupped my cheeks in his palms, letting out the heaviest of sighs.
“I didn’t want to hurt you, and that’s exactly what I’m doing, isn’t it? I’m sorry. I just woke up with a sense of clarity, that’s all. I shouldn’t be tainting your life with mine, because you have to live it the right way. You have to find a decent guy who’s worthy of you, and a life that’s full of all the amazing things you deserve.I can’t be more than a brief blip on the radar, something you look back on with regret, for the time I wasted when you could have been with someone worthy.”
I pulled free of his grip and slapped his face hard, watching his eyes widen with shock as he cupped his cheek.
“I deserve that, and so much more, Camille. Give it to me. Punch me, do whatever you need to.”
“You arrogant prick! You think I’m with you because you somehow coerced me into feeling something for you? You think I’m with you out of pity or something equally fucking lame? I fell in love with you, you stupid son of a bitch! I fell in love with the person you are. The sweet guy, the funny guy, the wickedly sexual guy who makes me soak all my damn underwear when he’s around. I don’t want you to ‘free me’ from our fucking marriage. I want you to man up and be the husband I deserve! I know I married the right man, but apparently you’re too fucking stupid to see that! Or your head is so far up your damn ass that-”
His lips silenced me mid-rant and his kiss was anything but sweet or gentle. It was bruising and full of passion. It was intense and full of sadness. It was dominant enough that I yielded to him in an instant, and fisted his t-shirt as he walked me back to the bed, and stopped right by the edge.
“Married fuck number four is gonna be angry sex, babe. I can’t wait for you to let me fuck all that rage out of you.”
Stitch
I’d never been witha woman who could twist me around so much in my head that one minute I’m ready to walk away, for her benefit, and the next, I’m so desperate to bury my dick in her that I can’t hold back.
Her underwear was wrenched down, and I shoved her over the bed, holding her down by my hand on the small of her back, as I shoved my boxers down. Thank fuck we hadn’t finished getting dressed yet.
I grabbed my dick and rubbed it against her, sliding it over her clit, and betweenthose moist folds, just making sure she was ready before I slammed it in to the hilt.
We both let out low moans of pleasure, and then I was fucking her like an animal. I couldn’t get enough of that pussy of hers, of the way she writhed and moaned, the way each hard thrust filled her just right. It was like she literally made for me, for my dick, and every time I was inside her, I never wanted to leave her body.
