Unnatural Instinct: Alone

17.

He feels good inside you. He feels good on top of you. You never thought you'd like sex this much. The whispers about "life" after marriage were always so confusing. Some liked it. Some hated it. Knowing your father and mother, you always thought you'd hate it.

You can still feel him throbbing inside you as much as you feel yourself throbbing. He's smiling and kissing your mouth and you grab onto his face to kiss him back. He's opening up. You can see it in his eyes. Maybe you'll truly get to know him now. Maybe he won't be so shy and reserved.

You couldn't be more right.

Grabbing your hips, he rolls onto his back. You squeal with laughter as you straddle him, his shaft still buried deep inside you. His eyes are shining as he reaches up to touch your breasts.

You study him in disbelief. He is nothing like your father. Nothing like Tate. And as for yourself—you're seemingly nothing like your mother. For so long you thought a relationship could only be one way. It's startling to realise that you were wrong. That the men and women in your village are wrong.

It isn't normal for a man to be cruel to his wife. It isn't normal for a man to control and dominate and hurt. If it were, then why is Lance so different? You suddenly hate your father. And you're suddenly very sad for your mother.

Lance's forehead screws up. 'What's wrong?'

You shake yourself. 'Nothing. Nothing's wrong.' You smile as you reach out to touch his lips. 'I'm just—I'm just happy to be here, that's all.'

His face glows as he grins and for a moment his deformity vanishes, skin smooth and soft, no twist in his mouth. In his own way, he's handsome. You press your lips together at a painful swell of sympathy. Out of all the men in the world, Lance doesn't deserve to be alone.

'I'm sorry,' you whisper, the tears lodging in your throat.

'For what?'

You just shake your head.

'Are you going to stay with me?'

'I'll stay with you. I'll stay with you forever.'

He grins. His eyes blaze. Suddenly he's sitting up and kissing you down the neck, on your breasts. You squawk with laughter, gripping at his hair as he nibbles at your nipples. He presses his face into them, kissing them, lashing them with his tongue. Then he suddenly rolls you onto your back. His shaft slides out of you as he pulls back to kiss you down the pelvis. He reaches your groin and pauses to stroke his fingers through your pubic hair.

He's flushed and panting, his eyes dark. He's staring at your body, at your breasts and hips and thighs. He leans over again to kiss you on your hip bones. Then he's pushing open your thighs. You shriek, sitting up as he licks you right down your slit.

'Oh my God!' you cry. 'What are you doing?'

He sits back with a start. 'What? Was I wrong?' His face blazes red.

You pull your thighs together. Then you sit up fully and pull your legs against your chest. You're shaking. It's wrong to put your mouth down there. The women and ministers always said so. It's sinful and disgusting.

But it did feel good.

Your eyes drift down to his penis and for a moment you wonder if you could do the same thing to him. Your eyes jerk back to his.

'It's okay,' you say. And you're not sure if you're trying to convince yourself or him.

Heart thudding, you lie back down. For a long moment, you don't move. Then you let your thighs fall open. You can feel the heat and blood thrumming in your hips. Worse—you can feel it throbbing down your slit. It's like you can still feel his tongue.

'You can—you can do it again, if you like.'

'You like it?'

'I like it.'

'I like it too.' You suck in a breath as you feel him stroke you with his finger. 'So soft,' he says. 'I want to kiss you. I want to kiss you all over.'

Goose bumps prickle all over you.

You shiver as he strokes you again. You suck in a breath as he opens up your folds. 'You're so different,' he says.

He leans in and you slap your hand against your mouth with a yelp. Now you can't stop giggling. You giggle, then chuckle, then laugh out loud as he kisses you right on your vagina. He kisses you and kisses you. Then he grabs your thighs and starts licking.

You gaze up at the ceiling with a gasp. You never knew you were so sensitive down there. You've touched yourself before but it was nothing like this. He sinks his tongue deep inside and you almost slam your knees together in surprise.

'Oh my God,' you gasp, covering your face as he swirls his tongue.

How can something so good be so bad? He pulls back, gasping, then wipes his mouth. He smooths his hands over your thighs. All the muscles are bulging in his arms. All his veins are sticking out. And you wonder which one of you is getting more pleasure out of this.

He kisses you in the groin again, then kisses you up the belly, before moving onto your breasts, where he licks and sucks and kisses. He holds them in his hands with a groan, then drops his face between them.

'I don't want to move,' he says.

You laugh. He mashes his face into your cleavage with a sigh, then just lies there. For a long time neither of you move. You're tracing your fingertips down his broad back. You can feel the moisture of his mouth against your right nipple. It's so quiet. So peaceful. No dinging of the church bell. No children playing in the distance. No barking dogs or the rattling of wheels against pavement. No shouting from your father. Or screaming from your mother. All you can hear is your heartbeat.

Your stomach growls. Lance sits up. 'You're hungry. I'll go get breakfast.'

And just like that he gets up and goes over to the slabs of deer meat. You watch as he pulls on a shirt and a pair of pants. The moment you stand, you clutch at your groin with a yelp as his semen trickles down your thighs and drips into the pelts.

Lance looks over. His forehead furrows. 'Is it supposed to do that?'

He goes and fetches some cloth and comes back. He starts to rub you down.

'What's supposed to do what?'

'Isn't my—my stuff supposed to stay inside you?'

'I don't know.'

'But how are we going to make babies?' He's looking anxious.

'I don't think it matters.'

'You don't think so?'

You shake your head.

His face brightens. He grabs up a clean pelt and wraps it around you. 'It's cold.' Then he goes back to the fire, crouching in front of it as he sets it alight.

You go outside to relieve yourself. It is freezing, dark clouds drawing like a curtain over the sun. You pull the pelt close as the wind snaps at your skin. You feel all sticky from last night but you don't know where to bathe. His semen has dried into a crust between your legs. You smell like his sweat. You look down towards the woods. The tops of the trees are thrashing in an oncoming wind.

Winter is certainly coming.

Upon your return, he's slapping over the deer meat on his hot flat rock. It sizzles and your mouth waters at the smell.

He smiles. 'It's just about ready.'

You go to sit across the fire from him but he reaches over to grab your wrist as you pass, pulling you into his lap. It's shocking how confident he is now. How affectionate he's starting to be. Walls are falling down. He's always smiling now, no longer covering or hiding his face, no longer so ashamed or embarrassed or nervous.

He hands you the deer meat and while you eat he wraps his arms around your waist and leans his chin on your shoulder.

'You're not eating?' you ask.

'In a minute.' He kisses the back of your neck.