The car he drove pulled up quickly after she had been dropped off from her 2-day business trip. It was another of the mid-June cold evenings of which no one had any business being outside for if you could help it. Jasmine came in and gave him a quick hug and a peck so that he’d get off the way and partly because she was tired. She sure did look like it. It showed in her lethargy as she reclined her seat and rested on it dejectedly. His efforts to make conversation fell flat on the face and he could tell the fatigue was making her edgy and irritable even when unprovoked and he let her be but not forgetting to assure her that she is welcome back and she was sorely missed.
The radio was on to kill the silence and his stolen glances at her in traffic earned him a wry smile at the corner of her mouth. He knew it. It was the calm before the storm however much she denied it. She had a bee in her bonnet about something and it was driving him nuts.
“Babe, I need to ask you something but let’s get to the house first.”
“Ask away love.”
Something got caught in his throat. Why do they always do that!?
“I feel like you don’t eat me out enough, don’t you enjoy it?”
“I like giving head on occasion, not on demand, by obligation or when I don’t feel like it.”
“So you don’t enjoy it?”
“If I can be honest, it tires my jaw and sometimes it hurts. Can we just admit that we are not very oral people? Because I can easily say you are not much into giving me head either and it is okay.”
“No. I give you head every time and I am starting to feel it is one-sided.”
“Okay. You are right. We need to get to the house for this.“
It was one of those moments when you start casting aspersions and questioning how you ended up where you are. You feel bad for doubting it but still can’t shake it off. She felt like it was not enough. The reciprocation formed all but improper fractions in her head and it didn’t feel right that she felt like she loved him more than he loved her. Love is less tiring when you are the object of it. The pain of unrequited love is often born by the one who labours more and that is where Jasmine was. It was in her eyes. He could see it.
“Are you okay?”
“I don’t feel great and I feel like a bad person for feeling that way.” She said under her breath.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“It makes me feel like a bad person. Like I am asking for too much.”
“Go ahead. I am curious now.”
“I feel like you are not loving me like you should. That you are not taking care of me enough. I don’t want to feel like I have to worry about money or anything when I am with you.”
And there it was. The elephant in the room but somehow he was the one that felt cornered. He was scared to tell her that he is running lean trying to save up because what he had in mind was not assured and neither was the capital. He didn’t want to write cheques he couldn’t cash or plant hopes he couldn’t water. He could have told her but his fear was that all it would do was feed into the financial insecurity.
She got up and wrapped up herself in his towel and left him on the bed to think. Is this finally it? Is this how the cookie crumbles? How do you explain that you broke up with someone because there was little assurance of a prosperous and a loving happy future when you feel like you have done your all to nourish it. Maybe good was not good enough and it was time to shape up or ship out. There was a lot of ways this discussion could have ended but in the end, it had to be the one where they met in the middle and had an understanding on the way forward.
“When it comes, my money will be our money. Don’t worry about it because it is me and you to the end. Don’t I hold enough promise to keep your faith in me?”
“You do but I just don’t want to be that woman on the radio who never knew where the rain started beating her and still wonders why her husband never brings home any money. The genesis of it all must have been not having such a conversation early enough.”
“I get what you mean…” He said like he was about to add something but changed his mind. He was often the diplomatic one. Wanting to say something because it is the right thing to say, not just because it crossed his mind. It agitated her every time especially when he said what he really wanted in a less volatile environment and made her feel like the bad person yet she wasn’t. She was just unapologetically on her side. Nothing wrong with a little ambition or wanting the best for yourself.
“We should sleep, I am tired.”
“Yes, we should,” he added knowing very well she was not about to sleep with so much on her mind. She mulled over it for a long minute and backed up into him. Her breathing changed and her voice too after he told her goodnight in a coy attempt to still assure her of his love for her.
Once may have been ignored but the second cue was the charm. He got on top and she turned to face him. It was dark but her confusion was so easy to read. The battle between fight or flight. He kissed her gently and she kissed back wondering if he is doing all this just to trivialise her concerns and throw her off the war-path to her holy grail.
He went on to kiss her as the giggles died down and little moans rose from their ashes in bated breath.
“Babe, can I kiss you everywhere? I feel like consuming you whole. Like taking all of you in.”
“I don’t want.” She faced away in an effort to hide her true sentiment.
“Are you sure?” His voice grew softer this time when he asked this right behind her ear and she gasped.
“Okay, anywhere but my nethers. I don’t want you on my lady bits.”
“Are you really sure?”
The tone of his voice matched the menacing smile on his face and she doubted her answer but before she could make up her mind, he had started planting warm kisses all over her neck. They were just the right amount of wet. The kind that leaves a cooling effect as it vaporises on the warm body. He went for the nipples and lingered. Taking in all of her cooing. It fed his appetite. He went for her tummy and it got half sexy and half ticklish. She burst out in a giggly fete and pulled his face up from down under.
“You know I am a respectable woman, right? You can’t be embarrassing me like this while the neighbours are listening.”
“Then bite on something because I am not done with you.”
“No. Please, babe, listen to me. You will kill me.”
“I am here to give you joy. For the grief, I may have caused.”
“Okay, but remember, not the vagina.”
He went on to kiss her as the giggles died down and little moans rose from their ashes in bated breath. Her body was so soft and tender and the thighs warm on his ears. Both were made of thunder but it was the rain in between that he had the appetite for. It smelt like petrichor and hibiscus petals in hot water. He wanted her to beg for it. Her consent was the sexiest thing because there was a way she always begged that got him in the giving spirit.
“Give it to me babe.”
“Give it to me damn it. I want your tongue.”
That was all he needed to hear. He made her repeat so that he’d hang onto every word she said in that very short sentence. He could feel a boner coming on and it took a lot to ward it off. This was not that kind of party.
He nibbled, grazed and sucked like it was an audition. Her clitoris tender against the tip of his tongue than the rest of her skin around it and however dark it was under the covers, he knew his way home. It was all in the shiver on her skin when her stomach was kissed and the hairs on end when he ran his fingers on her skin. The fingers came into play and she realised he plays like he fights. Never fair.
The palate of her vagina felt good on the tip of his index and middle finger as he made little circles in there. The tongue moved with the same rhythm in circles after every suck on the labia and/or her hood. His hands reached for the left nipple and this is how the cookie really crumbled. The spasms were more alive this time but they felt held back. She was fighting something but he soldiered on nonetheless.
She shuddered under his tongue but it was like he was getting started. She almost had an out of the body moment and she could hear screams but could not identify them as her own. We can only hope the neighbours were too busy with the World Cup to hear it all. Half her body was not off the edge of the bed as she tried to escape the eat out. The plan was to push her off the edge. The thumb did a rejoinder on her button and with three fingers in play with a tongue on her nipples, she was justified to go as feral as she did. Shook to the core and whimpering like a stricken animal.
She begged and pleaded for a cessation because she couldn’t take it anymore. He listened but had half a mind to go back and try to squeeze one or two more tremors out of her. Ride the wave so to speak. If she dies, she dies. His jaw hurt where it joined the upper one on the right and he reconsidered. He watched her convalesce and regain her breath while on top and kissed her every once in a while for her to taste herself on his chin and beard.
“I am sorry. I am sorry I came at you like that. I know there is nothing I told you that you don’t tell yourself every day. I feel like a bad person.”
“All is forgiven, love. Enjoy your orgasm. That was your punishment and you atoned well. I sometimes wish you knew how you tasted like. How easy it is to love you because you make it so. How much your moans turn me on and how I moan in return as I lick you up.”
“Tell me, I want to hear it all.”
He stood up to switch off the lights but changed his mind. He wanted to see her face as he held a mirror to her it.
“Okay here goes… It was another of the mid-June cold evenings of which no one had any business being outside for if you could help it…”
4 thoughts on “The Atonement”
It was a chilly afternoon when I read this and all I wanna do is go home and reach for the covers….Damn
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Anything that can be clutched, hold on to it like it is for your dear life.
Nicely written. Erotica per excellence.
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Thank you Xavier.