17. Honest

Hey, but what did I expect. I thought, when he did not come back. What did I expect? I expected him to have an explosion of feelings but above all love, love for this being we created out of our love. This beautiful person so like him, her hair, her face, her eyes, her charm. She was a little elf, like he was. And oh I loved her so much. I would do anything to protect her.

But I loved him too. How could he behave like this? Unimaginable. But he was not here. So maybe I was wrong about him. About my love for him.

I heard someone downstairs. Calling. "Sweety, I'm here!"

Sweety, I'm here. Right.
Right! Of course! I shook myself.

It was Saturday, and on Saturday Rogier, my ex husband and best friend came to collect the children. With a sob I slipped into my bathrobe.

"Sweety, sweety, calm down, calm down. I'm here. What's wrong." He comforted me as I flew into his arms, crying.

"I, I told him" I sobbed.

"What? He's here? What happened?"

"I told him and...  And he left!"

"Fucker." Rogier said through his teeth. "Fucking bastard!"

After I had calmed down, washed my face, I told Rogier everything what had happened earlier, that night. Then we had breakfast together -me, Rogier, Mees and Apple.
He knew Apple was not his child. Even Apple knew. We had always been honest about it. In our little family, between the walls of our home, we were honest and true. Even though I loved Rogier dearly, he knew I loved the fucking elf more, in a different way. And he accepted it. Because he was my friend. Always was and alway will be.

And Apple had no problem with him not being her father. She loved him anyway. She was curious about her real father, of course. Specially since I told her that her father had been like an angel come to earth for me.

Some angel, I thought bitter.

Waved them goodbye. A whole weekend before me. To sort things out.

I watched the Porsche take a turn, jumped and blew some kisses, then turned, ran to my house and bumped into someone. Hard. Into him. The angel. I fell on my knee. Hurt myself. He helped me up. Lifted me and brought me back into the house. Looking very serious with that big frown and non-smiling face.

As I sat on a kitchen chair, he cleaned my bloody knee with water and some paper towels.

He lifted me chin. Looked deep into my eyes and was about to say something when a clear voice sounded.

"Are you my father?"

Slowly he turned. Looked at Apple standing there. With an accusing expression on her face. But also hope, interest, curiosity, longing even. I did not know she had those feelings concerning her unknown father.

"Yes." He said. "I am your father."

And at that moment I must have fainted. I can not remember anything. I woke up in my bed. With no clothes on. Only a satin sheet covering my body. And a wet towel on my head.

I wrapped the sheet around me and went down stairs. Nobody. I got real scared. Where are they! Not in the living, not in the kitchen. I ran outside. Into the garden.

I heard voices. Laughter. When I approached I saw them sitting there. Father and daughter. Alike. Heads together. Bent over something in their hands. What? A bug? Talking. Giggling. Looking each other in the eyes. Smiles. Then two pair of ocean blue eyes looked at me. Me wrapped in a burgundy red satin sheet. Wide eyed worried look I must have had. And him looking at me. A naughty smirk on his face when he looked at the sheet clinging to my body. She looking at him with a glorified smile. Then she ran to me. Hugged me.

"How are you feeling, darling?" The lion said to me.

At my daughter, our daughter; "I will see to it that your mother gets some rest. And I'll take a nap also. Will be with you later, Apple, so we can talk." Then he winked at her. And she smiled back.
"I'll go to my friend. She has a puppy. So you will be here when I come back?"

"Sure," he said. "If you want me to."

With a warm hand in the small of my back he leaded me to my bedroom. I felt really nervous. He took me in his arms, hummed a bit and rocked me. His warm low voice calming me. Then he bent me backwards. Still holding me, leaning on one knee. Then he spread me on the bed. He took away the sheet. His eyes caressing me. Lingering at my mouth, my breasts, my belly, my pubic hair.

He took of his shoes and socks. His shirt. Then he leaned over me. Legs on both sides of my body. Touching me. With his hands, with his mouth. My cheeks, my neck, my collarbone, my breasts. Softly. Hardly touching. Caressing. As light as a feather.

A finger nail over my ribs, my stomach, circling my bellybutton. His hand pressing lightly on my mound. Fingertips stroking the inside of my tights. And his gaze following his every move.

Then he kissed my vagina, his tongue between my slit. Softly. Lovingly. Oh and hot, so hot. Hot because he whispered. I squirmed. Quietly meowing. But when I tangled my fingers in his hair he stopped. Ripped his shirt and tied my hands above my head on the rails of the bed. I could only move my legs. But he bound them too. Then he blindfolded me.

Kissed me on the mouth. His tongue tracing my lips. Then no contact, just silent breathing.

The warm palm of his hand touched my nipple. Slowly moving, lightly, then his whole hand pinching my breast, and his mouth, biting me, licking me. Making a wet trail from my breast to my belly. Both his hands on my thighs, squishing them. His mouth, his tongue, full on my pussy. Licking, sucking, biting, growling. And me panting, moaning. His hands on my nipples. Playing them.

"Oh please," I begged. "Oh please, fuck me." Pulling at the straps to touch him.

Then nothing. Noise. Movement of the air. Was he removing the rest of his clothes?

I could feel one hand making an imprint in the mattress next to my head and a pressure against my wet cunt. He slid his rod up and down along my slippery vagina and entered me with one thrust. Oh, that feeling. He filled me up. I felt so tight around him. But he did not move. I only heard him breathe. I moved my hips, but he made sure there was no friction. I screamed with frustration. Biting my lip.

"Beg me again, my love." He said hoarse.

"No!" And angry I pulled my ties again.

He kissed me and moved his hips once. Almost making me have an orgasm. Almost.

I could not resist. "Please, I beg you, please."

"You were not fair with me." He said suddenly. Then shoved his penis up, deep in me.

"You were not true." Again. Banging me.

"You mistrusted me." Fucking me hard.

"You posh bitch." His mouth, wide open, on my breast, tongue on my nipple, moaning, pounding.

He growled, loud. His breathing, heavy.

I screamed with pleasure. It started from the middle of my tummy and spread over my whole body. And then he joined me in my scream.

He was lying on me. Heavy. Exhausted. One hand on my cheek. Softly mumbling sweet words. Then he removed the blindfold and the ties. Kissed me where the fabric had left some soreness.

"I'm so sorry, my darling. I did not mean to hurt you."

"You didn't." I answered.

"It's just. How could you not tell me? How could you not trust me? Those things you said...
You should know that I love you. I am yours."

I laughed, released. We both laughed. I felt so happy. And then I wept. Softly. How could he be mine. Impossible.