Page 7 of Don't Puck Up

Kamirah

Istood up from the daybed, needing to move, and walked over to the glass fence surrounding our private plunge pool. The blue lights in the water and yellow flames from the tiki torches reflected eerily off my skin.

Our conversation was heavy, but we needed to have it. It was the first time we were talking about a lot of this stuff. In order to reconnect, we needed to sort through the way it affected us individually and as a couple. There was a gulf between us at the moment, and I wanted to repair it. I needed to.

Chris had told me countless times that as long as he had me, he had everything. I was all he needed. Six months ago, I wouldn’t have hesitated in telling him the same. But now…

Now with the benefit of hindsight, my head was telling me I should reconsider. My heart didn’t falter. But was love enough? He’d hurt me beyond anything I’d ever imagined him to be capable of. I couldn’t handle it happening again.

Warm hands slid along my bare waist. I was still wearing the bikini I’d put on that morning. We’d been swimming all day, sometimes heading into the water to snorkel and at other times just to cool down.

Chris towered over me, all bulky muscle and warm skin. When he pressed his hard body against mine, I could feel the bulge of his cock.Even soft, he was impressive. My pussy clenched, knowing how good he could fill me.

But I wasn’t going to get sidetracked.

“How do we fix things?” I asked.

“Someone could take over my life,” Chris grumbled, and I grinned, then shook my head. He wasn’t giving himself enough credit.

“When did I become a responsible adult? I need a responsibler, adultier adult. I seriously fuck it up every time. I’m a terrible adult.”

I couldn’t bite back my laugh even if I tried. My giggle came out as more of a snort, and I slapped my hand over my mouth, trying without success to muffle the sound from Chris’s ears.

He growled playfully, and it set me off again. I loved this Chris. He was mischievous and good-natured. He was affectionate too. He tightened his arms around my waist, holding me close, and kissed my hair. It was so simple and innocent, but it left me in no doubt about how he felt.

“Don’t laugh, Kamirah,” he scolded with a huff of pained laughter. “Seriously, I need someone better at this to make my decisions. Look at the shitstorm I caused when we did things my way.”

He may be being playful, but he was hurting. The grin slipped from my lips, and I turned in his arms. I ran my hands up his chest, the coloring of our skin so different even in the dim light. Where I was pale and covered in freckles, almost every inch of his upper body was tattooed.

I linked my hands behind his neck and pulled him to me, holding him as tight as he did me. I wanted to comfort him, to take away the uncertainty and the pain.

He cupped my face and pressed a kiss to my forehead. I melted, letting my eyes slip closed as I leaned into him.

Then he was gone, stepping away from me to pace. He’d been like that a lot—a caged tiger itching to break away and run.

“If I was on the ice, I’d be able to move fast enough to outrun it.”

His words shattered my heart. I’d just thought of him wanting to escape from all this, just like that, but to hear him say it, for him to admit it, destroyed me.

“But I can’t even do that.” He threw his hands up in the air in frustration and added, “The team’s mojo got all screwy because of that fucking story….”

He went quiet but never stopped moving. “It’s as if I can’t escape it. Like I’m in quicksand, and it’s sucking me down. I keep looking over my shoulder, waiting to see the monster chasing me.”

He groaned and scrubbed his hands over his face before looking up at the night sky. I couldn’t see his eyes, but I’d bet my last dollar that he was on the verge of tears. It would be easy to get angry and hate him, but knowing what he’d been through gave me pause.

He dropped his head down, and his shoulders slumped as he exhaled, all the fight seeming to drain from him. “I kind of wish there was someone chasing me. Hiding hasn't worked. Burying my head in the sand just hurt you.” He groaned again, the sound pained. “Sometimes I wish I wasn’t bi.”

Fuck. Me.

He hated himself.

It was as if he’d said he hated hockey. It had taken both of us a long time to admit we were bi and polyamorous. I’d been in denial. He’d been terrified of losing me. But I could never walk away from him. I’d fallen in love with him as a teenager; he was my everything. We’d worked through it together, both of us finally getting to a point where we were comfortable admitting our sexuality to a few select partners. To hear him say he wished he wasn’t bi was a stake through my heart.

I didn’t have the words, but I needed to say something.

“You need to let the past go, hon. We both do,” I finally replied. I kept my voice soothing, scared that he’d bolt. I rubbed his back gently, and he turned into me, collapsing into my arms. I held him tight, never wanting to let him go. “No matter what happens, we’ll get through this together. I love you. Whether we add another person to our relationship or not, we’ll get back to what we were.”

“Thank you,” he whispered. He held on for long moments until he straightened his back, finally regaining his strength, and asked, “Know any adultier adults who can distract me with a game of naked tag?”