I leaned down and whispered in her ear. “You okay?”
“Yes, just hoping it’s good for you ... that you, um, like it,” she replied.
My poor Zahra. Always wanting to please. Fearing rejection had become her default setting, and it broke my heart.
“It’s already the best sex of my life, Zahra, and we haven’t even started.” I smiled at her reassuringly, and as if on autopilot, she spread her legs wide, her thighs clutching my hips. I was so hard at that point, I just pushed in. No direction needed. The relief was almost paralyzing. In fact, it was paralyzing. I froze, not wanting to move for fear of coming immediately or waking up. Rose had frequented my dreams lately and my stupid alarm always seemed to screech its protest the moment I reached the good part. But no. This wasn’t a dream. I was in my bed, inside my Rose. She pushed her hips up and I immediately began to move. We began slowly, but not gently. Gentle wasn’t our thing. We were not the soft, sweet lovebirds who took our time dating and moving slowly. Our pace intensified, and when I heard Rose’s pants become choppier, I kept the same fast rhythm, grinding against her with every thrust, hoping I could hold out until Rose gave me the greatest gift ever and came on my dick. I thanked every God who ever existed when she gave me the sweet sound of her gentle moans. I stared at her face, not even considering how creepy I may have looked. I wanted to commit this sight to memory. My Zahra, underneath me, wanting me.
Her face was soft, and her eyes were closed. She spent a few moments zoning out, a gentle smile on her face. By the time, she’d opened her eyes, I had come so hard I worried about the condom’s structural integrity. Condoms are a terrific invention. Truly, I was always a fan. I’d never had an issue with them. But now that I was softening and had to pull out or risk a leak, I hated them with a passion. We’d have to find another solution because pulling out of my Zahra, even when I was sated, was torture.
Chapter 42: The Rose—Healing
We lay side by side for a while, not talking, just breathing together. The room was dim, the only light coming from the streetlamp outside casting faint amber across the wall. I traced my finger along his forearm, memorizing the feel of him. He had that prominent forearm vein thing happening, which for reasons unknown had many women swooning.
“You ever think about the future?” he asked suddenly.
I let out a quiet laugh. “Lately, I’ve been too busy trying to survive the present.”
“I meanourfuture,” he said, and the weight of his words made me still.
I turned my face up so I could see his more clearly. “I don’t know. That depends on a lot of things.”
“Like?”
“Like whether you can handle me at my worst.”
He tightened his hold just slightly. “Zahra, I’m here for all parts of you. And you work so hard, I know you’ll never go back there. If you do, I’ll be here to pull you back.”
The way he said it, no hesitation, no doubt, warmed me in a way that was almost frightening. I’d built so many walls to keep people out. With him, they felt paper-thin. He felt me stiffen and pulled me closer.
“Stop thinking Zahra, or I’ll have to stop you thinking in other ways.”
For so long I had doubted men’s intentions and lived with the gnawing suspicion that I was nothing more than a diversion, a conquest, a secret shame. But this? This felt different. He hadn’t touched me with the detached hunger of someone taking what they could, like Dean and so many men since him had. He’d held me like I was wanted, not used. He chased me and declared his feelings for me. He let the world see him wanting me. Hedidn’t call me for sex late at night and kick me out straight after. He wasn’t sleeping with me to kill time while he waited for his version of Rebecca to come so he could dump me. In fact, I suspected if I tried to leave that night, he’d have somehow restrained me. For the first time in my life, I felt a startling kind of safety in being desired. It wasn’t just my body he craved. He wanted me, even the sicker parts of me. The knowledge swelled in my chest like something I’d never let myself believe: I mattered. To him, I mattered. And that realization was both terrifying and beautiful.
Eventually, I tucked myself against him again, my eyes drifting shut. I didn’t know where we’d go from here, and I wouldn’t cling to him or beg him for any promises. For tonight, I let myself believe in the possibility of something lasting.
And Hound—Hound just held me like he’d never let go, and I snuggled further and further into his warmth and strength.
Epilogue I: The Rose—One year later
“Come back to bed, Zahra. Just ten more minutes,” Ace begged, leaning over my abandoned spot in our bed to make a grab for my naked ass.
“No! I begged Shania to put on this event, and I want to make sure everything is ready!”
It was a Saturday morning, and my first ever story time with the preschool kids. I had bought a Peter Rabbit sweater especially for this occasion, and despite being horrendously expensive and not fit to wear anywhere but the library, it would hopefully make the kids happy. Introducing children to books had fulfilled me much more than I’d ever believed possible. To see their dreamy expressions when you read about naughty dogs or toys that came to life was more rewarding than my pay cheque, not that my pay cheque was remotely rewarding.
I had come so far in the last year. Shania had hired me as a general library assistant, but through perseverance and volunteering at children’s events, I’d convinced her to create the children’s librarian position. It was a small library, and I still performed general duties, but I had created a story time and a special reading space just for kids. Parents were now coming from nearby areas to enjoy the space and take advantage of the activities I offered.
The parents and kids loved it, but the peace and healing it gave me was indescribable. I remembered being a frightened child, left home alone by my mother while she entertained men. It was books that soothed me. They made me forget I was alone, unprotected, and unloved. While I was reading about Pippi Longstocking’s adventures and Anne from Avonlea, I didn’t hear the small creaking sounds of the house that would otherwise have panicked me. I was with “friends,” the characters in my book. I was loved and part of something bigger.
“Come on, Zahra. I’m feeling very neglected.” Ace did his best pout, which was terrible and made him look like he was sucking a lemon.
“Neglected? I’ve shown you love this morning and several times yesterday. Come to story time! You can sit with the kids and hear about mean old Mr. McGregor.”
“Pfft. I’m not sitting with a bunch of kids while I’m perving on the librarian and battling a boner. That would be inappropriate, Zahra,” he whined.
“Then you’ll have to wait until I come home,” I concluded. I leaned over and kissed his head before making my way to the shower. I loved my job. I was always a hard worker, even when I was a factory picker whose sole career goal was avoiding people and connection. In my new career, I thrived on people and connections. It was a place I’d never dreamed I'd reach.
I sang while washing my hair. I loved my life. I really did. I lived in Ace’s house now but spent a lot of time back at my old building visiting Gloria. Shania and I also socialized, and I even continued to meet grumpy Jessie for coffee every now and then. I was building my world, but my Hound was the center of it. I’d learned to let go of my fears and barriers.
