Overwhelmed with sensation, I explode, tangling my fingers in his hair to keep his mouth exactly where I want him. Head thrown back, mouth open in a silent scream, I arch myself into him as Ishudder beneath him. I have no words to describe the release I just felt with this man. It’s as if the orgasm that rippled through my body went beyond the physical and into my very being. A complete surrender of oneself to another.
I’m still basking in the bliss of my orgasm when Dexter pulls his mouth from my breast and asks, “Do we need something?” A condom. Why didn’t I think of that? I shake my head, panting, and say, “I’m on the pill.”
“I’m clean,” he states, trailing kisses back up my chest to my neck and to my ear. “Do you have any fucking idea how often I’ve fantasized about sinking myself inside you?”
I tremble at his words, unable to respond. The next thing I know Dexter is tearing my shorts and underwear down my legs. He shoves his shorts and boxer briefs down his thighs, not bothering to completely remove them before gripping me underneath my thigh to hike my leg up and around his waist.
He doesn’t pause to ask if I’m ok like he did in the library so many years ago — I’m not the timid eighteen-year-old girl I was then. He knows I’m just as lost to him as he is to me at this moment. Leg now secured around his hips, Dexter reaches one hand up to my headboard and thrusts his hips forward, filling me in one stroke.
“Dexter!” I shout at the same time he grunts and exclaims through clenched teeth, “My God you’re so fucking tight.”
Sex, for me, has never been this raw, passionate, and unhinged. Dexter slams into me again and again, one hand braced against the headboard while the other grips my thigh. He slides that hand to my ass, tilting my hips and opening my leg wider for a better angle. My eyes roll into the back of my head as his next thrust rubs against my g-spot inside while his pelvis grinds against my clit.
“Dex,” I pant, trying and failing to utter a complete sentence. “I… I’m going to…”
Dexter drops his mouth to mine, silencing my futile attempts at communicating. He kisses me once before pulling back slightly and whispering, “Lâche prise, ma chérie. Lâche prise.”
Once again, I combust. I clench around him, my core pulsing,pulling him deeper into me. “Fuck, Alis,” he groans, pressing his forehead against mine as my release triggers his own. We remain in this position for half a minute longer, breathing heavily, spent, slick with sweat. Eventually, Dexter opens his eyes and meets mine. He traces my cheekbone with the pad of his thumb and whispers, “I love you,” before pressing a gentle kiss to my lips and carefully pulling out.
I lie there, completely relaxed and grinning like an idiot, while Dexter stands and walks to the bathroom to retrieve a towel for cleanup. I watch him walk across the room in all his naked glory, and I couldn’t wipe the smile off my face if I tried. He soon returns and helps to clean me up, then climbs back into the bed and pulls me close to him.
I’m just about to drift off to sleep once more when he says, “We still need to talk about how you deceived me into thinking you were in college and then tricked me into taking your virginity.”
I laugh into his chest and say, “I didn’t lie; you assumed. On both fronts.”
Dexter lets out a scoff and says, “T'es un p'tit cave, mais je t'aime.”
I snuggle closer into him, kissing his chest. “Je t’aime,” I whisper, and fall asleep in his arms.
EPILOGUE
Three Months Later
Alis
Life can change so muchin so short a time. I never could have imagined after less than a year in Grand River I’d be happily engaged to a professor at MPU and packing to move in with him. I can’t decide who is most excited about our transition from apartment to house — Sunny or Otis. I never had pets while growing up, so I wasn’t aware that the bond between a child and her dog could be so strong. And that’s exactly what Otis is — hers.
Dexter and I are still learning to navigate the idiosyncrasies of co-parenting. He doesn’t want to overstep but also knows it’s his responsibility to be a father to Sunny. Some days are smooth, some aren’t, but with open communication and a lot of love and grace, we’re figuring it out, day by day.
Jonathan Ryan accepted Dr. Matthews’ invitation to teach his lecture series as a seminar for MPU students. Dexter and I had numerous conversations about whether or not we should reveal what happened all those years ago to Abigail, and, while we still don’tfully agree, Dexter respects that it’s ultimately my decision to confront Jonathan about the past and to tell anyone else.
Perhaps I made the cowardly choice to not confront him or Margaret, to expose what happened so others could see the truth of the Ryans’ marital dysfunction and how their toxicity can hurt the people around them. It’s possible — nay, probable — I’m not the only person who has been the victim of Margaret’s deeply-rooted insecurities. However, I refuse to take on the burden of responsibility for someone else’s issues. It’s not my responsibility to force another person to deal with their own problems. Hell, I’m still working on my own.
I’d never refuse support to someone who went through something similar, nor would I ever lie to keep my past hurts buried. I do, however, have a right to my own privacy. I don’t owe the world my story. This isn’t some novel where the characters complete their respective growth cycles with an epiphany that instantly corrects every wrong choice they have ever made or heals deeply-seeded wounds.
I am a whole person, scars and all, and I will struggle through my past one day at a time. I’ll marry Dexter Belanger while still battling my insecurities about not being strong enough or confident enough without a support system, without my sister. Not having every question answered or insecurity dealt with before partnering with someone else doesn’t make me codependent or incapable of standing on my own two feet.
We aren’t walking into happily ever after — we’re continuing our walk through life, one step, one chapter at a time. The difference is that now we’re walking together, hand in hand with the person we love and trust to help us avoid potholes and climb over boulders in our path. We’ll laugh, cry, fight, disagree, disappoint, make mistakes, act selfishly, act lovingly, forgive, support, and learn from each other. And isn’t that what makes life worth living? Not reaching a destination or state of perfection, but growing with the people you love.
“Alis?” Dexter’s voice cuts through my inner monologue. “What’s up?” I ask, still folding the same sheet I grabbed twenty minutes ago.
He laughs, “Having trouble there?” I swat his arm and tell him to hush, then give up on the sheet, folding and crumpling it into a ball before shoving it into the box in front of me. We’re packing up the final few boxes to move to Dexter’s home — our home.
When he asked Sunny and me to move in, I was unsure how we’d accomplish that with nearly half a year left on our apartment lease. Little did I know Skye would be relieved when I sat down to talk with her about it — apparently she has a friend in need of a place to stay, and now she can move in here and split the rent costs.
I haven’t met this friend, and Skye has been tight-lipped about her; only revealing that she’s in a tight situation and has been looking for a new roommate.
I’m taping up the last box when I hear the front door open and Skye’s voice calling, “Honey, we’re home!”We?
