Covet Not (16 page)

Daniel
didn't say anything for a long time, but eventually, he let Raphe loose. He
grabbed his wrist and put him in his room. He did not come for Raphe except in
the night. Daniel would take him, assuming that Raphe's continued silence was
consensual.

It
wasn't. Raphe hoped that Daniel would get the point, but he never did.

The
following months were hard for Raphe. A parade of blondes. He told every woman
he bedded that he was a prisoner. It always made them less eager, and maybe
some felt the profundity of the situation.

Daniel
still came to him several times a week in the dead of night. He would fuck
Raphe slowly and intimately, but sometimes he took him fast and hard. Raphe
much preferred that. It was easier to hate Daniel when he was rough, even
though that's the way he would've liked it had he loved him.

Mostly
though, he felt a bone deep apathy that teetered on ferocious hostility. It was
a fine line that was born in captivity. He was prone to apathy, and it helped
him cope with the cards he'd been dealt.

He
was quick to anger as a child, and it took patience and medication to deal with
it. It was something he mastered once he left home as a last 'Fuck you!' to his
parents for making him leave when they couldn't control him.

This
consuming anger was going to get him killed if he didn't watch out. But it was
the only thing that kept him hard enough to fuck all these sad women.

He
didn't know their stories. He didn't know if they were forced by destitution,
or of husbands leaving because of infertility. He didn't want to judge. He
wondered why the men weren't taking it upon themselves to knock up whomever
they could, but maybe that was coming next.

Some
days, Raphe felt obligated to impregnate one of the girls. To know that her
life might be easy because of it.

Some
days, he was too afraid to ask their age.

But
most days, he wanted to put on a dress and lead a fucking rebellion.

XXV

The sex was
surprisingly, consistently good. The sex was easy. It was a preoccupation for
Jude, and anytime the opportunity arose, he would find himself in between
Clara's thighs with nothing but
want
to guide him.

The
relief was palpable. He wanted to shout it to his father. There was nothing
wrong or different about him. He just wasn't terribly particular when it came
to fucking.

But,
he knew that to be untrue.

Clara
belonged to him, and the novelty of ownership was arousing. He knew it was
horrible to think of her that way, but it kept his dick hard and that was all
that mattered to him. He didn't want to dwell about the day that would come. He
convinced himself every time he pushed into his wife that maybe it wouldn't
come. Maybe he was safe.

He
would think of men when he was hard. Random men in town. He waited for the urge
to be filled to overtake him, but it never did. Not with random men. He tried
not to think of Martin in those instances. He thought he might've been fonder
of Martin than he allowed himself to think. He just knew it would have never
amounted to anything, so it was easier to believe he hated him.

But,
it was nothing like what he felt for Clara. As the weeks passed, he found
himself in love, nearly viciously. It wasn't anything like he'd imagined. It
wasn't a sweet, scary thing like it was with Seth, nor the easy, accessible
impudence he'd shared with Martin.

This
was pure and Godly and righteous...if you didn't count the fucking. He was
certain he'd have to make a good case in front of St. Peter, but he was sure
he'd be put with the Sodomites. It was supposedly hot in Hell, but a little
sweat wouldn't deter him from that orgy.

He'd
better take advantage of his lovely bride while he was still alive, then.
Because Hell would have none of her.

Clara
took good care of him. She didn't seem to lack any confidence when it came to
keeping them cleaned and fed. She would be a good mother to their children, and
Jude thought he might come out of this without needing something more. But, it
was a fleeting, hopeful thing.

Clara
always accommodated him, and she seemed to expect it. He had her nearly every
night, unless she was menstruating. He'd try to convince her he wouldn't mind
the mess, but she still wouldn't.

He
taught her to touch him those nights with her hands and with her mouth. She was
hesitant, but a quick study. It was amazing to watch her, and nearly
unbelievable, so he wasn't able to get off, but he allowed her to watch while
he stroked his cock, all while telling her how he would fuck her with his
tongue once she was able.

He
tried not to spread his legs and lift his ass up every time she was down there.
In those moments, when her mouth was learning his dick, he wanted to be filled,
but by the time he'd made a mess of them, he was satisfied.

He'd
nearly asked her to finger him a hundred times, but he worried it wouldn't be
enough. A sort of tit for tat. A 'you seem to really enjoy it, and I'm curious
about it'. But, how many fingers would he need?

But,
it seemed like it would taint her to ask it of her. He would kiss her to keep
himself quiet.

He
couldn't get enough of her mouth. He kissed her obsessively. Like he was afraid
God would plague him again if he neglected her.

She
bathed every night before bed. He took his shower straight after work, before
dinner, so he would wait in bed for her. He never bothered with clothes once
he'd showered. It amused him that she bothered to wear clothes to bed at all,
but he had an inkling she enjoyed being undressed.

Some
nights, he woke with his hard cock cradled between her cheeks, and it made his
heart skip a beat. He slept against her every night hoping he would wake up
like that again, and blame his rutting on sleep.

Sometimes
he didn't pretend to sleep at all, but he'd drag his cock head until it caught
on her hole and he'd bite his lip until it hurt just so he wouldn't push
forward.

He
knew she'd let him, but he was worried it would trigger a deeper need, and he
didn't want to stray. He wouldn't
ever
stray. It was his mantra. Even if
he woke up tomorrow, forsaken, or as Job, he would not stray. She did not
choose this. This was what she was dealt. He never expected to need her like he
does.

One
night, Jude got very drunk. He didn't drink much, but Mr. Clark from the lumber
yard was giving out some distilled creation that burned like an ulcer. He dared
Clara to take a shot, and if she was the punching sort, she would have hit him
good once she downed it. Jude remembered laughing and kissing, and he thought
he must've passed out after.

He
woke up with his dick sore, but Clara showed no indication he'd done anything
untoward...until a few nights later. She crawled into bed and put her back to
him, and he spooned up against her. He kissed her neck, and caressed her
breasts, and pressed his cock up to tease her while he got her wet.

Except
his cock slipped right into her ass because Clara had prepared herself. He
almost couldn't move, but she shifted back on it.

“You
want this, Clara?” He would have given anything to remember the night he was
drunk. He must've hurt her. He must've said something to make her believe he
would want to repeat it. He was too afraid to ask, but apparently, she was fine
with it. Unless she was only doing it for him. Which was humbling and
depressing.

“Mmhm.
Only a little. Just tease me a bit,” she murmured as she shifted back even further.

He
was already more than halfway in, so he was way beyond teasing. But, he would
play her game. “I can do that.” He slipped in balls deep and pulled out. He
slammed back in. She'd been thorough.

He
teased her hard and fast, spreading her open so he could grind into her. It
took him no time to flood her.

Jude
didn't notice he mostly only fucked her ass anymore. He would fuck her pussy as
a means to get him wet, but the end game was always in her ass. She didn't
complain. She seemed to encourage it.

One
night, she didn't get aroused as quickly, and he was impatient. His cock wasn't
moving as easily as he'd wanted. He pushed her onto her stomach and pulled her
cheeks apart, and buried his face there. He fucked her with his tongue, opening
her, and he hadn't realized he was feeling any guilt until she pressed her ass
against his face. That made it better for him. It showed him she'd wanted it.
He also realized belatedly he could've gone for her pussy.

He
ignored the small voice in his head that it was something anyone would be hard
pressed into denying. Martin had only licked him there once, but it wasn't to
make him feel good. He just needed to deposit as much saliva as possible. Jude
remembered how it felt, and how it had disarmed him so utterly, and he would
have promised Martin anything right then...

Martin
started carrying ointment for rough hands in his pocket more times than not,
and Jude certainly wasn't going to ask.

He
wanted Clara to ask. He wanted her to beg. But, he would give her time. She did
it with her body, but he wanted the words to spill from her mouth like the sea
in a tempest.

It
was too easy with Clara. Too easy from the start. Sometimes it frightened him
when he thought of being without her. “Promise you'll never leave me! Promise
me!” Jude demanded. He would do this forever if she stayed. Always. Forever.

“I
promise. Never,” she gasped.

He
came all over the sheets, and locked himself in the bathroom after. He didn't
understand his crisis. He was happy. There was no reason he should be having
these issues.

Later,
when he walked into the room, Clara had changed the sheets, and she was awake
waiting for him. “Why would I ever want to leave you?”

He
didn't want to answer, but he could be vague. “I just like things that aren't
good. I'm greedy. I need things from you I shouldn't need.” He wondered how
much it would escalate. He wondered when this would cease to satisfy. He stayed
two steps ahead, but if he stopped to breathe, what would happen?

After
Martin, he hadn't been ashamed. He'd even admitted it to Jared. They had
several conversations the week after, about marriage, but Jared kept any
opinions about Jude's appetites to himself. He didn't feel judged, and he'd
accepted the role he must play. He'd gone into this marriage resigned to have a
few things on the side if he could find any.

But
having her.
Having her.
Not being alone every night and every morning.
That changed things for Jude.

Clara
shrugged. She wasn't brave enough to say she liked it all. “What is it you
need?”

He
laughed without humor. “I want something that's mine. Something that will
always be mine no matter what I need. That transcends anything else.”
I need
it to transcend everything.
He crawled into bed and put his head on her
naked stomach.

“I
don't see anything wrong with that.” She ran her fingers through his hair.

He
shook his head. It wasn't wrong. But, infidelity was, and it was the elephant
in the room he finally admitted to himself was there. Lying was wrong as well.
“I just don't want to scare you off with my particular tastes. And I'm sorry
about the sheets.”

“We
may need some spares if you continue to make messes,” she tsked, her tone
light, while rubbing his scalp. “How do you know they're particular? What if
they're common?”

If
they were talking about the same thing, then it would be a good question.
“You're right.”

“I
mean, it's an easy way to prevent pregnancy. I just figure you're being
practical.” She shrugged.

Jude
laughed into her stomach. “We haven't really discussed it fully. You still
willing to wait a while?”

“Definitely.”

“You
really are too good for me.”

She
smiled. “Not good. Just selfish. I like coming back to bed after I've made you
breakfast, and eating too many sweets. Kids will ruin that.”

“And
the sex. Can you imagine? No sleep, no sweets, no sex...we aren't being
terribly selfish, are we?” He kissed her belly.

“I'm
just happy to be gone from my mother's house. She must be lonely, but I was
tired of being trained to be a wife and mother.”

Jude
cringed. “Surely it doesn't take that long to teach you how to cook. Or run a
washing machine.”

“Or
'just lie there and take it, Honey. It'll be over before you know it'.” She
sighed dramatically.

Jude's
laughter would have certainly woken up the children. “You have to tell me
everything.”

“Not
much to tell. Really. I have nothing to go on. Sex is meant for procreation,
but Mama said sometimes a husband has needs, and it was best to just endure it.
And to endure it gave me the opinion it was something that wasn't necessarily
pleasant, but I didn't know what to expect. I don't know if I'm perverted for
enjoying it, or maybe she just hadn't at all. It's sad to think that, but maybe
I'm just as depraved as you.”