Reaping of the Wives

YOUR OWN GOOD

My eyes shifted from my bird to my moon, and I flew to its great heights. A peaceful weightlessness filled my mind as each of my senses fell away from me one by one, tethered by their gravity. Their severity. An overall numbness devoured the salty taste of my tears and eliminated the smell of sweat lingering in the air. The touches that jolted my body tempered into a gentle nothingness while sounds became mere distant murmurs, whispering to me from their far off places.

Noah let go of my throat and instead, threaded his fingers through my hair while his other hand traveled down to my hip.

"Close your eyes," he whispered.

His tone was no longer demanding. There was the slightest touch of guilt wrapped around the notes that traveled to me and I found myself grateful to be given permission to shut myself further away from what was happening.

The hand on my hip slipped to my back, then beneath the fabric that covered me and he grabbed a large palmful of my bottom, kneading the flesh and angling my body to his satisfaction. As his grinding intensified, I could feel his hot, minty breath turn into pants fanning heavily across my face. The squeaking of the bed went on for several more minutes until his movements turned frenzied, just before giving a final thrust. He squeezed my bare cheek while a breathy groan left his lips and his body shuddered. Despite the layers of clothing, I could feel him throb against me as warmth pooled between us, dampening my underwear.

Once Noah's breaths began to steady, he removed his hand from beneath the thin cotton and I felt the weight of his body lift off mine as he shifted to rise up onto his elbow. His fingers slowly slipped from my hair and he wiped the tears from my cheeks before taking me by the jaw to turn my face toward him.

"Open your eyes, Wife." His voice came out strained, nearly hoarse, and as much as I didn't want to, I obeyed.

Though my vision was blurred with tears, I was still taken aback by the sight before me. I could clearly see moisture pooled within Noah's blue eyes. He looked deeply into mine and a single blink was all it took for those unshed tears to trail down his cheeks.

"I'm sorry, sweet girl," he whispered with a wobbling bottom lip.

I couldn't speak. I couldn't think. I could only stare up at him as I tried to keep the sob sitting in my chest from spilling out of me.

Noah quickly wiped his face on the shoulder of his white tee, then pinned me with narrowed eyes.

"Tomorrow is Sunday. You've been mine for three months, and I have to prove I'm worthy of you during your cleansing." His voice deepened as he warned, "Be a good girl for me, Grace. Do just like you did today, once more tomorrow, because I don't want to have to hurt you."

Leaning down, he pressed his lips to mine for the first time. Over the months, he had kissed my cheek, my hands, my hair, but never my lips. I froze feeling the softness of him against my mouth.

He pulled back and touched his forehead to mine. "I don't want anything to happen to you." Slowly rocking his head side to side, his voice cracked as he begged, "Please, Grace. Please be good for me tomorrow. I'm telling you now, I will hurt you if you make me because the alternative is something neither of us want."

Finally gathering the strength to speak, I asked, "What will you do to me? Why does it have to be during the cleansing?"

Noah leaned back, sliding his hand from my jaw. His fingertips slowly guided stray strands of my hair off my forehead. As he methodically moved my disheveled hair into place, his eyes grew distant in thought.

"Because," he said with finality.

I blinked several times. "Th-that's not really an answer."

Bringing his eyes to mine, he sighed. "It's time I prove that I'm a good husband. If it seems as though I've not trained you right... the consequences for you and I both are.. Grace, just trust me, alright?"