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Dionysus

CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

I close the door and only need to look at her once to be sure she’s mad at me.

Well, that makes the two of us.

Today, we will decide once and for all the future of our relationship.

“You did it on purpose.”

“I don’t know which part you’re referring to: when I stuck my tongue in your mouth or when I told that asshole that you are my woman, but in both cases, the answer is yes.”

“It wasn’t what we agreed.”

“There was no arrangement, only my respect for how terrified you seem to be of people knowing that you are mine. Newsflash, Cecily: this story of clandestine dates is over. I understand that my world is not attractive to someone who has never had their life exposed in the newspapers. I don’t like the idea of them persecuting you either, but at least with family and closest relatives, we’ll be honest.”

“So you’ve decided everything yourself, have you?”

“I gave you every opportunity to come around to the idea. Or would it be better to say, to mature ?”

“What does that mean?” She faces me with her hands on her hips, and as crazy as it is, her anger excites me.

I should stay away, but I can’t, so I walk over to where she is and pin her against the wall. “You think you are a woman, but you’re just a scared little girl.”

“You don’t know anything about me.”

“What I don’t know is why you hide, but I see you.”

“You see nothing. You are just upset because you can’t accept that I’m the one who’s turned the tables and doesn’t want to tell people about us.”

If I weren’t so pissed, I’d laugh, because she’s partially right. It’s not just that, however. For the first time, I realize, I’m keeping a permanent partner by choice, and although I am sure with every drop of blood in my body that this is what Cecily wants too, there is something that prevents her from accepting it.

Suddenly it all becomes too much.

I know very little about love, because I don’t even know if it was what my father felt for my mother or if it was an obsession, but from what I know, it’s not a dance that can be performed alone.

It takes two.

“For weeks, I have been fighting my nature and trying to understand your side. I don’t want to do that anymore.”

She pales, and everything in me tells me to protect her, but I don’t move.

Cecily has to fight for what she wants.

“I don’t understand . . .”

I feel her fear, the heat of her breath. Fuck, I can almost hear her heartbeat.

Or are they mine?

“You say you love me, but you don’t even know what love is. I know I’m your first boyfriend, your first everything, but unfortunately for you, I’m not a boy. My attitudes are those of an adult man, and not even for you will I hide. If you can’t accept what you want, we’ll stop here.”

I take a step back, just as she grabs the lapels of my blazer. I could make her let go, but I wait.

“I don’t want to stop.”

“You don’t know what you want,” I accuse.

“Yes, I do. I came here.”

I was so angry when I saw Cage asking her out that I forgot we haven’t agreed on anything yet. “Why did you come?”

“Because I love you.”

I turn away, irritated, because “I love you” is not an answer.

She comes close again. “I came because I love you and also to tell you that I’m pregnant. I was afraid to tell you that day. You looked so angry. You said you would ask for custody of the baby if we didn’t stay together, and at the time, I was terrified. I’m not anymore. Not as terrified as then, at least.”

“You’re really pregnant?”

She lied, and I don’t understand why I can’t hate her for hiding the pregnancy from me for several weeks. Instead, my heart beats like my chest isn’t able to contain it.

“Say something,” she begs.

“You lied. You told me to my face that my child wasn’t there. I should hate you.”

“But you don’t hate me?”

I look at her face, still pale. The dark circles under the eyes that have always fascinated me. Freckles on fair skin.

“No. I don’t know what fucking spell you put on me, because God knows I wouldn’t forgive something like that from anyone else, but I don’t hate you, Cecily, now that you’re going to be mine forever.”

I lift her against the door, and what happens next is the result of the desire bordering on insanity that we feel for each other.

In a fraction of a second, I face her, and in the next instant, I am completely inside her.

I don’t know who lowered my zipper, who got rid of her panties.

What does it matter, if in the end, I’m inside my paradise? If I have the woman I’ve most desired in my arms, telling me she’s pregnant with my baby?

“I don’t want to give you custody of our child because I want us to be together. I’m yours. You are mine. Joseph is ours, just like this soon-to-be-born baby. None of us are going anywhere.”

She is crying, and as I fuck her, I lick her tears. I squeeze her thighs around my body, and even though I know we need to talk, right now I want connection.

Her nails scratch my neck, digging in, showing me how much we are both hanging on by a thread between desire and despair.

“Every time I’m with you, I feel at home. It’s like your body is my home, Cecily.”

“I love you. I don’t wanna lose you.”

“You won’t. You’re mine now. You two are mine.”

“Your responsibilities?”

“My woman and my child. Mine.”

I move in and out of her without rest, swallowing, hungrily and greedily, each of her moans. I know she is very close to coming and that I won’t last either.

Seconds later, she contracts around me in rhythmic spasms. I withdraw almost completely and re-enter.

“I’m going to come inside you. Fill you completely.”

It’s a promise, a threat, a challenge.

It’s a mark and an oath, so that she never forgets that she belongs to me.

“Do it. Come in me.”

I rock my hips against her small body, thrusting hard, and she moans loudly. I thrust once, twice, three times, and then I spill my seed inside my woman.

Cecily clings to me, exhausted, I think physically and emotionally, and despite the connection I feel between us at the moment, I also sense that I’m missing something.

As a confirmation, she says, “Swear you’ll never hate me.”

“Why not ask me to love you instead?”

“Because love can’t be requested. Hatred, on the other hand, can be negotiated because it is a choice. Don’t hate me, Dionysus. It would break my heart.”