“Dammit, Lil,” he growled, crashing his lips against mine. His fingers slid inside of me.
“Is this what you want, Lil? You want me to screw you in my brother's bedroom?” he asked angrily.
“Yes. I just want you. Anywhere. All the time,” I choked out.
Another firework screeched, then popped.
He pulled me to the vanity and pushed me onto it, facing away from him. “You're going to face this, Lil. You're not going to close your eyes and escape the wrong we're doing.” He ripped up the skirt of my dress, yanked the panties down, and pressed into me. It wasn't gentle. A cluster of fireworks pattered as I let out a cry when he pushed his entire length into me.
“They'll hear us.” I pleaded.
“I don't care anymore, Lil. I really fucking don't. Let them.” I knew how he felt, it was exactly how I did on my wedding day.
He braced my neck, wrapping his long fingers along the nape, making me watch in the dark mirror, as he slid in and out of me. I could barely focus on the sight as the unrelenting tightness of his angry erection inside of me stole all of my faculties. Bobby yanked down the top of my dress, kneading my breast with his hand.
“You feel so good, Lil,” he grunted into my ear, as he nipped along my shoulder and neck. His warm breath and stubble brushed against my skin, leaving a scorched trail of tingles wherever his lips traveled.
A scattering of gentle pops accompanied by gold sparkles reflected on the mirror, raining along our shadowed faces.
“Bobby, harder,” I begged. I wanted to feel pain. I wanted to be punished for the filthy act I was committing. I wanted to drown out the voices of doubt. To snuff the fear. I needed to only feel Bobby's shaft grinding inside of me, his slick chest pressed against my back, the sultry gusts of his breath tickling my hairline as he panted.
“Lil, it'll never be enough,” he protested through a tightened jaw. “I want it all,” he demanded.
“Have it, Bobby. Take it,” I whimpered. The trinkets hopped in unison on the dresser with each violent entry.
Like tribal drumbeats, the fireworks boomed in rapid succession. Unrelenting. Deafening. As maniacal and crazed as Bobby. I wailed as he stiffened inside of me, pumping himself, marking me like a territorial beast in his another man's den. I collapsed onto the vanity, full of Bobby, but still not sated.
A rainbow of colors flickered throughout the room. The beating of the fireworks had not stopped and to my shock neither did Bobby. He turned me over, still in a rage, and hoisted me up on the vanity as I held on, stunned. He dropped to his knees, like a subjugate vowing his fealty to a queen.
He propped my thighs along his shoulders and pressed his mouth against me. Suckling the tenderness, rolling his tongue inside and along the engorged, ripe arousal. Tasting the mixture of our sex on his lips. Tasting the forbidden fruit of our union. And though he was greedy, though he was like a starved man feasting on the freshest nectar, he was sensual. His lips and tongue moving slowly, deeply, attentively.
Like the breath was vacuumed brutally out of my lungs, I sucked in air frantically.
The finale, in its final throes of glory, masked my sobs of pleasure as I convulsed around the seal of his lips on my mound. Reds. Blues. Purples. Silvers. Golds. Whistling. Popping. Screeching. The room filled with sounds and colors against the backdrop of shadows. Bobby held my thighs down, forcing me to experience the intensity of the shockwaves that emanated from his mouth.
I rested back on the mirror, still reaching for air, feeling like liquid held together by skin.
Bobby stood up, and wiped the creamy juices that glimmered on his lips before kissing me. I could still taste us on his pout.
He rested his head against my chest as I cradled it. The built up frustration had finally released, and he was back to himself. “Lil, I'm becoming someone I don't want to be,” he lamented. “The way I feel about you is making me mad. It's why I left years ago. I don't want to become ugly and bitter. But I'm a man. And if I can't have you the way I want . . . it'll turn me into someone I don't like.”
I brushed his hair with my fingers. “Please don't give up on us,” I begged. “Just give me some time. I just heard the news. Give me some time to figure all this out, okay? I don't want to be this person either.”
Bobby and I were good people.
And yet here we were, wrapped in each other's arms in my husband's—his brother's—bedroom, risking anyone finding us. We were becoming desperate. Love was making us hysterical.
He stood up and straightened himself out. “The fireworks are over. I have to go.”
I nodded, feeling ice crystalize through my veins as the heat from his body departed from my skin. Knowing, at least for now, we would have to go back to pretending. I didn't know how much longer it could last like this, but I still didn't know how I could muster up the strength to leave. And I didn't think Bobby was quite ready to lose his brother as much as he protested our current situation.
In reaching for heaven, we had created a new hell for ourselves.
Bobby slipped out of the room as I stayed behind, cleaning up the mess we had made. Once I had finished, and the murmurs of the crowd returned to the backyard, I stepped out of the room.
Barbie was walking down the hallway.
“Lilly,” she called.
I wondered how long she had been in the house. Did she see Bobby come downstairs? I bluffed until I could find out why she was up here.
“Rory's a bit sauced,” she said.
“Oh no, did he do anything stupid?”
“No, but I thought you should know. I know he's been dry lately. What are you doing up here?” she asked. “I was looking for you at the fireworks crowd before I realized you must not have come along.”
“I had a headache. The last thing I needed was flashing lights and loud noises.”
“Awww, come on, let me fix something up for that.”
She was being especially kind after my blowup at Stan, who was floating around the party, but hadn't really spoken to me.
“Why don't you start, and I'll head down in a minute?” I felt ambushed and needed another minute alone.
“Okay.” She headed down the stairs but stopped midway. “Are you sure everything is okay?” she asked.
“Yeah. Promise. I guess news of the move has me a bit frazzled.”
“Okay,” she said skeptically before leaving.
I ran back into the bedroom, a sudden and inexplicable rush of emotion hitting me, and sobbed.
As I wrapped up the dishes, Rory came into the house with the last of the items he needed to bring in from outdoors. I was seething now that the shock of Rory's announcement had worn off. Even Bobby said his brother was wrong. This wasn't just me holding onto some residual resentment towards Rory. His announcing our move without even telling me was wrong on its own merits.
He dragged his feet, heavy from the booze, into the house. As if last night hadn't happened, he came up behind me sliding his hands along my waist. “Where's Bobby?” he whispered.
“He's in the shower,” I replied shrugging off his advances.
“What's wrong?”
I shook my head, not believing I had to explain to him why I was upset. “Do I really have to tell you? You put me on the spot out there. A move like that is a decision we both make. You don't just spring it on me and assume that's something I want to do, too.”
“What? They offered the job. I took it. Case closed. What can you do here that you can't do anywhere else? My career comes first, it puts the food on the table, the roof over your
head . . . that nice car of yours in the driveway.” He pointed towards the front of the house.