What's Left Unsaid - Chapter 12

I stared at my phone. At the pathetic little text I’d managed to send. It said nothing. Gave nothing. It was just a passive, plain text. And Conner hadn’t replied. Not even to something so innocuous. 

What did that mean?

Did it mean he didn’t believe me? Because what I texted was true. It just left out the part where I fucked Ash in our bed. And it left out the possibility that… maybe my husband had witnessed my infidelity.

Somehow I’d managed to get dressed. Cotton shorts and an old work out t-shirt. I’d showered three times. Scrubbing and scrubbing. I didn’t want anything left of Ash on me or in me. Not that it would matter. I was tainted. Used. A chewed up piece of bubble gum that deserved to be discarded onto the sidewalk and trampled on.

Conner hadn’t responded to my text. No call. Nothing. Not even to check on me. Maybe he thought I was lying. Or… or maybe he just didn’t want to talk to his cheating wife.

I would have cried more had all my tears not been shed hours ago. I’d wailed and cried on the bed. In the shower. And now I was sitting at our dining table, holding a cold cup of coffee wondering if my husband was ever going to come home to me. Honestly, I wouldn’t have blamed him if he didn’t. I didn’t deserve him. Conner deserved better. So much better.

I could make up all the excuses I wanted. Hypersexuality. Depression. Fear. But it really just came down to stupidity and selfishness. I wanted to have sex. And Ash was good at it. Conner was too. Even with the sheath, he was good. So good. But it wasn’t the real thing. That wasn’t his fault. I’d never ever blame him for that. But… somewhere deep down I was tired. Over a year of doctors and therapy. Therapists. Medicine. Day after day of new charts and graphs and thoughts and possibilities. I was worn down. Exhausted and just… done.

Not done with my marriage. Not done with Conner. Never that. I’d never leave him. But… if he wanted to leave me because of what I’d done… I wouldn’t fight him.

What I was done with… well that was hard to pin down. I couldn’t put it into words. It was just everything. The whole of what our lives had become. I wanted what we had been working on before the accident. But I knew we would never go back to that. Not even if Conner’s penis suddenly, magically started getting erect again. Our lives were different. Changed. We were different people.

I guess I was done trying to figure out what that looked like. Done trying to run from it. We needed to do something. Something needed to change.

The sound of the front door opening made me freeze. My coffee was still in my hands, held up as if I were going to take a drink, but I hadn’t in the last ten minutes since I’d picked it up. I felt my heart racing. My breath caught and I held it as if I were about to dive into deep freezing water.

Conner’s footsteps were heavy as he came into the kitchen. I turned my head, still holding my coffee up as if it were frozen there. Our eyes met and I knew. I knew he knew. Oh god. It was over. Everything I loved was over. Gone. And for what? For some good sex? It wasn’t worth it. I’d be celibate for the rest of my life if it meant I could keep my husband. 

I wanted to cry but my eyes were dry. I wanted to confess everything to Conner. To tell it all to him and throw myself at his mercy. Instead I just sat there… frozen. A statue. Looking longingly at my husband and hoping by some miracle he wasn’t about to scream and yell. That he wasn’t going to call me all the names I knew I deserved to be called. What if he already had divorce papers? Could lawyers print them out on demand? Was that where he was for the last couple hours? Down at a lawyer’s office getting things ready to divorce his cheating slut wife?

The smile he gave me was weak, nervous. Half hearted. But there was still love there. Deep and unrelenting. He made his way into the kitchen slowly. As if the floor were a mine field and each step might trigger an explosion. Approaching the coffee pot, it was still warm and he poured himself a cup, then came to the table and sat down next to me. I don’t know how he knew, but he looked at my cup, stood back up and plucked it from my hands and refreshed it. Handing it back to me he sat down and for a few minutes we simply drank our coffee in peace.

I didn’t know what to say. I knew that Conner knew about my affair. He’d seen my texts and no doubt the images and videos. God why had I let Ash do that? Filming my infidelity. What was I? Some sort of pathetic whore? Maybe I was trying to get caught. Was I somehow subconsciously trying to ruin my marriage?

Closing my eyes I mulled that over seriously. Just for a second. Was I so miserable that I just wanted out? That I wanted to burn everything down? Ruin it all? Ruin myself and let Conner go so that he could find someone who could help him better than me?

No.

The feeling was fierce and I gripped my mug so tightly I thought it might break.

I loved Conner. Outsiders might look at what I’ve done and think different, but I loved my husband and fuck the rest of them. I was human. I’d made mistakes. Those choices were on me. And I’d accept the consequences, even if that did mean the end of my marriage. But no one was going to tell me, not even my stupid subconscious, that I didn’t love my husband. I didn’t want to leave. I wanted to stay.

But it was clear that I was stuck wanting something that didn’t exist anymore. Getting passed that was hard. Accepting our new reality… I just hadn’t been able to do it. Not completely. I’d gone along with it but hadn’t really accepted. And that’s where my larger flaw lay.

Conner’s hand touched my arm.

When I opened my eyes they were blurry. I was crying again. How did my body have enough water left for more tears?

The look on Conner’s face… oh god how I loved this man. There was pain there. I saw it in his eyes. Deep and harsh. His face was a mask of care and consideration, covering the tragedy mask from a play. He took a deep breath, his thumb gently along my arms sending little chills through me as I held my coffee.

“I understand.” He said.

My heart broke. It shattered.

How! How could he understand? How could he look at me like this, knowing how slutty and horrible I’d been, and say that he understood. I don’t even understand damn it!

“Why…” My voice was chocked, raw and strained as if it had been dragged through the flames of hell.

He smiled. It was sad, but there was a little hope. “Because I love you. And I know you love me.”

I put my coffee down, hands shaking. Sobbing, I reached for him and he pulled me close, holding me tightly. I clawed at him as I wept. I let it all out. Everything. But I didn’t have words. I just had wails and cries and whimpers.

For a while, I was just a mess of tears. Conner never loosened his grip on me. He held me tight and kept whispering, ‘I understand’, ‘I love you’, ‘better or worse, I love you’.

“Don’t leave… please… please god, Conner. Don’t leave me!” My voice was like gravel getting crushed.

“Never. Never. I’m not leaving.”

I grabbed hold of his hair, hard and painful and kissed him so hard I knew I would bruise his lips and mine. I tasted my tears.

“Love me.” I gasped. “Love me Conner.”

“Always!” He groaned and lifted me up, pushing our mugs off the table, shattering them on the floor and sending our now cold coffee all over the floor.

We were ripping off clothes, pulling them and tugging them until my pussy was exposed. His flaccid cock was in my hand and I was stroking it and Conner roughly thrust three fingers into my pussy.

I screamed in pain and arched up, letting go of his cock and gripping hold of the table as I fell back.

He started thrusting with no remorse. Pulling down my shorts and tossing them, exposing me. He pushed my legs open and started thrusting his fingers in and out faster. My pussy was slick and needy, just from his touch. Squelch squelch squelch. Grabbing me by the hair he pulled me forward, doubling me over so I was only a few inches away from staring at my own pussy and my husband's fingers ramming and stretching.

“Yes. Yes. Please… please honey fuck me… fucking love me please. Please stay!” My words were a jumble of please and longing and desperation.

“Look at that cunt! See it stretching for me. So fucking wet. Is this what you want Daisy? Huh?” His voice was gruff. It felt like he was searching for the right words too but couldn’t find the right ones so he was just throwing out whatever bubbled to the surface of his brain.

“God!” I screamed and cried. My tears were real. It hurt. It hurt so good. The pain was right. I was being punished for what I’d done. He was punishing my cunt with his fingers and his careless treatment. This wasn’t him trying to bring me to orgasm. He was forcing me to feel. To just rawly experience sensations that he was bringing me.

Pushing my legs up higher so that I was essentially putting my legs behind my neck, staring at him thrusting fingers into my ever moistening pussy, my tears dripped onto it. Onto my sex. My ass was winking, puckering as my whole body was screaming as it was stretched and pushed to new limits and sensations.

“Ahhhhhhh!” I screamed.

Conner slapped me. Slapped me again.

I was crying and begging. “Please! Oh god please!”

“Do you want me to stop?” The question was genuine but his voice was still gruff and angry and sad.

I met his eyes. Watery and red. “Conner…honey…oh god honey please… keep me… keep me…”

We kissed. Hard. Deep. His fingers plunged into me, curving and rubbing fiercely and fast and I couldn’t hold back. I squirted everywhere. All over him, the table, the floor.

“AAAHAHAHHAAHAAAAA!” I cried out shaking and convulsing.

He pulled out his fingers and I sprayed more. I came undone, my limbs falling down and I was like someone possessed and being exorcised. My voice was raw and I quickly lost it. My body was tight and taught and I nearly fell off the table. Conner caught me.

It wasn’t fair. He was the one that was hurt. The one who was dealing with a broken body. But he was the one catching me, when I deserved to be dropped.

Sobbing in pain and pleasure, I pushed my face into his chest and lost all sense of time and space. When I finally opened my eyes we were in bed. I was curled up in a fetal position and he was laying next to me watching me and gently caressing my cheek.

“W…I…I’m…” I was trying to find words, but his finger pressed to my lips.

He had tears in his eyes. This wasn’t over. Not by a long shot. There was so much we needed to work on and discuss. But for now, he kept me silent.

“I understand.” That was his mantra. It infuriated me and soothed me and drove me crazy because I still didn’t understand anything myself. But my husband did. The man I loved understood things better and was trying to comfort me.

“I love you.” I rasped.

“I believe that.” He whispered back and kissed my forehead. “I love you too. That’s why I understand.”

I nodded. Because it was the only thing I could do. Maybe later tonight. Maybe tomorrow. We would have more demons to face. More things that needed to be said. But for now, we lay together and tried for just a minute to have some peace and understanding between the both of us.