Episode 13: Climax
climax: the highest point of anxiety or tension in a story or film which the central character/protagonist faces, confronts, or deals with the consequence(s) of their actions
Thirst leeched her throat dry. Her eyelids pried open sluggishly, allowing her groggy mind to remember her usual predicament. Her ex-husband hugged her snuggly against him, making her the hostage little spoon.
Some nights it was easier to slip away undetected, but others required a more tactical approach. She chewed her lower lip, surgically separating herself from Nick’s arms.
As Tallulah eased back the sheets, she glanced over her shoulder to ensure she hadn’t woken him, relief rippling through her as a slumbering Nick didn’t budge an inch. She crept out of bed, a shiver rattling down her spine as her bare feet landed on an unforgivingly icy floor. She slunk out and journeyed to the kitchen.
Though an impressive supply of glass-bottled premium water chilled in the Sub-Zero fridge, it was more comforting to utilize the faucet.
After guzzling down two helpings, she hand-washed her cup and stationed it on a dish drying rack.
Tallulah gave into the usual urge to venture to the glass mansion’s second floor and edged her son’s door open, padding into the prehistoric-themed chamber. Milo slept soundly in his bed, having kicked off his covers. A smile quirked onto her lips as he took up one of his father’s sleeping habits: no shirt, sleep bottoms only. She tucked him back in to protect him from the icy draft and bestowed him a goodnight kiss on the forehead.
The sight of a bare-chested Nick seated upon the edge of her bed greeted her as she re-entered the bedroom.
“Do you know what time is, Desiree?” he posed.
Tallulah blinked. “Bedtime.”
“It’s nine minutes after midnight, which means it’s the fifteenth,” he informed.
She padded toward him, groaning, “Ugh, don’t remind me. We have to drop Milo off at that all-boy winter slumber party, then go to that sweater party at Eugene’s.”
Anxiety weighed on her at the day ahead.
A feeling she hoped a couple more hours of rest would alleviate.
“You don’t know what today is, do you?” The genuine question halted her stride.
Tallulah gave him a weak, clueless smile. “Um, Saturday?”
Nick rose and advanced on her, overshadowing her. “It’s been eleven years, Desiree.”
Confusion reigned over her. It’s been eleven years since what? Her brain scrambled to determine the significance of eleven years.
“Oh, god. It’s our wedding anniversary,” Tallulah gasped as the realization crashed onto her head, amending her statement quickly. “I mean our ex-wedding anniversary.”
Until she crossed paths with her ex-husband again, Tallulah relied on the coping mechanism of burying their dead marriage’s bones to survive. Being a single mother and a struggling actress, she prohibited herself from sulking and mourning whenever she encountered a billboard, movie poster, or television ad of Hollywood heartthrob Nick Bryant. Years ago, she reassigned December 15th as another ordinary day to endure, disremembering its importance for her own good.
And yet, after all this time, he held onto the date.
Tallulah’s imagination brewed theories of how he observed this day since their divorce. Had he drunk himself to near death? Had he resorted to the comfort of another woman? Had he whisked off to Europe or East Asia to find himself?
Guilt chewed at her conscience for forgetting. “Nick, I’m s—”
He pressed a calloused finger to her lips. “There’s nothing to apologize for, Desiree. You forgot the date, but you remember that day.”
She swallowed her reply and nodded, but the emotion still nibbled at her.
Nick withdrew his silencing digit and captured her hand, guiding her away from the bed.
“Where are we going?” she asked, furrowing her brow.
“On a trip down memory lane,” Nick divulged as he ushered her to her favorite relaxation spot: the scenery-facing armchair by her panoramic windows. “Sit.”
As she lowered her bottom onto the soft cushion, her eyes dragged up the landscape of his sinewy figure, pale moonlight draining onto his back.
“You were ten minutes late because Finn’s car battery died, and you had to catch a ride with someone else from your troupe. I was a nervous wreck, but then you scurried into that courtroom in an adorable short white tulle dress,” he said as he knelt before her. “You took my breath away. I committed that moment to memory for nine years and let it haunt me like a ghost.”
Tallulah’s gaze softened as she trailed off, “Nicholas...”
“The judge blushed when I kissed you and struck his gavel to get me to cut it out.” A cocky grin stained his mouth. “It was excruciatingly difficult for me to stop.”
“You made me blush, too,” she giggled.
He reminded, “A groom must keep his bride blushing. I took that responsibility very seriously. What happened next for us, Desiree?”
“You whisked me off to Playas de Tijuana. Our honeymoon suite overlooked the beach,” she recollected, dead memories reviving in her mind. If cruising across the US-Mexico Border in a shabby 1991 Geo Storm could be constituted as whisking her off. They opted not to do a wedding reception and Nick funded their seven-day honeymoon with much-earned overtime pay from months of double kitchen shifts.
“What’s the very first thing you did?” he quizzed, his rough fingertips caressing her shins.
She closed her eyes, digging deep into her memories. “I was practically dying in my high heels. I plopped into a chair by the view and tried to take them off, but you wouldn’t let me lift a finger.”
“Then what, Desiree?” he probed as he gathered her left foot in his possession and massaged it. She melted into her armchair and lolled her head, moaning in delight at his expert touch.
“Then you gave me a heavenly foot massage,” she replied throatily, bliss flaring in her veins as his thumbs kneaded her sore arch, “and after that, you—oh.”
Her eyes rounded in surprise as she recalled what her groom did to her next. Eleven years later, she was in a parallel situation with her ex-husband.
Mischief glinted in his vivid pools of blue. “You’re such a good storyteller, Ray. Please don’t leave me in suspense. I want to know what happened next.”
“You, um...” The words dissolved in her throat as her ability to think fractured after he bent his head and planted a lingering kiss on her ankle. “You went down on me for the first time.”
He kissed and licked along the valley of her shin, his pace leisured. “As your boyfriend, you wouldn’t let me taste you. As your fiancé, I got to lick you once before you stopped me. All it took was one lick to get hooked. For five months, I had to wait to become your husband to eat you up.”
Three months into dating, she gathered the nerve to evolve their intimacy beyond fervent make-out sessions.
Nick attempted to go down on her, but insecurity fueled her turndown. Instead, she begged him to fuck her. On the night of their engagement, celebratory liquor waned her unease, but the moment he lapped her pussy, it ushered a different scope of bliss and vulnerability, terrifying her. She fetched his head from between her thighs and kissed him desperately, whispering about her need for him.
He didn’t try again, which convinced her he’d given up on the idea until their honeymoon. In their newlywed suite, he slipped off her white, lacy panties and dove his head beneath layers of tulle to bury his tongue into her sweet center.
Instinctively, she tried to stop him, but he gruffly commanded her to hold onto the cushioned chair’s armrest and ‘don’t fuckin’ let go.’ He gave her no choice but to obey, forcing her to face her insecurities. His devouring of her drove her to tears as she couldn’t process how wondrous he made her feel.
As the sun descended into the Pacific Ocean, she basked in its rich fiery hues as her orgasm crashed and hurled over her like waves, his greedy mouth dragging her to the deepest depths of pleasure.
After that day, she never denied him—or herself—again.
“Open up for me,” he decreed huskily, his heated breath fluttering on her kneecaps. An army of goosebumps marched across her flesh, her body shivery.
Tallulah didn’t hesitate to part her thighs, pulling up her nightgown’s helm to unveil herself.
Nick’s tongue wettened his mouth, a smirk forming. “Well, what have we got here?”
As of late, she began to like going to bed commando. A choice that paid off. She buffed her nails spiritually to laud her excellent decision-making skills.
“A midnight snack,” Tallulah whispered as her fingers smoothed over her mound. She cupped her entrance, imprisoning it to deny him of it. “It doesn’t come free though.”
His love for a challenge danced in his eyes as he hiked an eyebrow. “Oh? What’s the price?”
“Beg for it,” she proposed, smiling. “Unless you think it’s beneath you.”
“I ain’t above beggin’,” he assured, his Kentucky accent shining as glorious as the moonlight staining them. A tiny squeak escaped her as he grabbed her thick thighs and wielded his impressive strength to draw her ass to the armchair’s edge.
He bowed his head and kissed her hand’s backside as its other side guarded the object of his desire. “Please, let me in. I’m fiendin’ to suck that little clit of yours.”
Her clit pulsed its approval.
Nick steered his tongue along an airtight cease between her middle and index fingers like a dog seeking comfort.
“I’m starvin’, Desiree,” he breathed as he nuzzled his cheek against her, kissing along her inner thigh. “I gotta eat you up, girl.”
Tallulah gazed down at him, savoring his acts of desperation. She coveted the sight of him knelt before her, begging for her to give herself to him. Beyond the panoramic windows was a world populated by fans who’d sell their soul to stand by Nick Bryant’s side, but she possessed the power to bring the powerful man to his knees willingly.
No one could take that from her. Suddenly, she felt invincible, which made her pussy slippery wet.
Pleased by his presentation, she uncovered her folds.
Nick draped her legs over his shoulders and feasted on her. A sharpened gasp rushed down her throat as his tongue punished her clit with erotic thrashes. Her chest rose and fell to her quickening breaths as his mouth orchestrated her ecstasy. She peered down at him, drinking him all in as he ate her all up.
One moment bled endlessly into another until she abandoned all sense of time—or any sense, for that matter.
Tallulah got caught in a state of purgatory between pleasure and torment. Nick had reverted to his mean ways. No longer a desperate man. Now, like a magic trick, he transformed her into the desperate one as he nipped and laved her clit, inflicting her with pain and soothing away his cruelty with greedy tongue swipes.
“Be nice to me,” Tallulah pleaded, earning his chuckle.
The rich sound’s vibrations soaked into her clit as he imprisoned it in his mouth for a deep suck which made her toes clench.
He liberated the swollen nub momentarily but refused to abandon it entirely as his rough thumb stroked and strummed while he addressed her. “It’s too late for that now, Diamond.”
Her head fell back against the armchair’s softness, notes of disappointment and bliss coiling around a deep-chested groan.
“Do you want me to beg?” she whimpered, arching against his petting thumb.
“No, diamonds don’t crack,” he reminded.
“I want to crack. I don’t know how much more of this I can take. Please, Nick,” she implored, unconsciously rocking her hips.
“You’re goin’ to take it, Diamond. You’re goin’ to take it and more.”
Tallulah pouted a quivery bottom lip. “Why are you doing this?”
“I want you to commit this day to your memory. I’m goin’ to carve this date in your mind with my tongue against your clit. I’m goin’ to pound it into your head when I yank you onto this floor and fuck the shit out of you,” he vowed. “That’s why I’m doin’ this.”
She couldn’t protest or argue against his pledge. Anticipation and arousal pulsated through her body like an electrical current. His words set her afire and only he could relieve her.
“Now, be my good girl and accept your fate,” he instructed as his head descended between her separated thighs, resuming his mission of ravishing her glistening crease. She resigned herself as his prey and splayed a shaky hand over her mouth to withhold the swell of cries raging within her.
“Don’t you fuckin’ dare,” he growled into her slit. “You better gimme those pretty sounds. I own every single one.”
A stubborn streak got ahold of Tallulah, and she used her teeth to pin her lower lip as a display of defiance. After all, diamonds don’t crack, and she wanted to show Nick how resilient his Diamond was.
A stunt that sparked a war of wars.
The spoils intended to be her climax fashioned as her downfall.
Nick parked his thumb atop the hidden root of her clit and coasted rearwards to pry back her sensitive fleshy hood and expose her firm pink bud in all its spit-shiny glory. His tongue washed her vulnerable clit, lapping at a delicate system of nerve endings that fired violent shocks of rapture throughout her body.
As the cry clawed up her throat, Tallulah trembled. She detached her hand from her mouth, depositing it onto the armrest for a pillar of strength.
Do not crack. Do not fucking crack, Tallulah demanded of herself as her ex-husband assaulted her button of pleasure in rapid feathery flicks.
It took everything within her not to succumb to the devastating urge to add shrilly vocals to her internal turmoil, but her ex-husband was a formidable foe.
They both knew he’d be declared the victor. His daunting stamina and determination would secure his inevitable triumph.
“No, no, no,” Tallulah beseeched breathlessly as their feud neared its end and snatched a fistful of his hair to anchor him, her actions contradicting her words. Her twin set of nails dug into the armrest.
An intense battle of stares ensued between them.
Give in. Give up. Gimme what I want, Nick’s intense blue eyes transmitted as he wagged his tongue’s tip on her unshielded nub.
She lost their staring contest as her eyelids clamped shut and her jaw fell open. Her self-restraint withered away and an orgasm rolled through her as a thunderous force.
Her thighs embraced his head as she cried out.
He didn’t relent, leeching every drop of her orgasm. She collapsed against the armchair and sobbed as she’d done on their wedding night eleven years ago. Tearily, she admired the moonlit foothills and the city of amber lights thriving within the valley’s heart.
Her axis tilted as Nick plucked her from the seat and brought her to the soft luxury shag rug. He stripped away her nightgown, shifting her onto her side.
Tallulah snuggled her cheek against the area rug as she suffered from a post-orgasmic daze. Nick hooked a brawny arm around her neck and palmed her breast as he spooned her.
“Drape your leg over mine and slide me into you,” he ordained huskily in her ear, rocking his rigid length against her plump ass. She gave into his demands and glided his veiny cock between her drenched folds, gasping loudly and bowing her spine as he surged into her.
As Nick established a deep, hard, and furious rhythm, Tallulah understood the gravity of this affair and her role within it.
They weren’t fucking each other.
That implied mutual participation.
No, it wasn’t that at all.
He was fucking her. Sometimes, you fucked. Sometimes, you get fucked and there’s nothing you can do but accept it and lose yourself in such a dark divine moment.
Tallulah yielded to him, each aggressive thrust making her plush body jiggle. She adored him like this: savage, vicious, demanding.
He manifested his need for her with every insistent, possessive drive of his hips.
“Look at my precious Diamond takin’ all this dick,” he taunted in her ear. “You fuckin’ love this, don’t you?”
And so it began, a favorite game of theirs. The one where Nick got off on asking her obvious questions and Tallulah got off on lying to incite him to pound her pussy harder.
“No,” she muttered, a squeal punctuating her lie as he blessed her with a rude thrust.
He panted, “Then why is this pussy so slippery wet for me, hm?”
“I’m thinking about someone else,” she fibbed.
Nick gripped her thigh and cocked it upward, measuredly corkscrewing his hips to burrow into her to the hilt. Her eyelids twitched and fluttered, her eyeballs rolling backward as he triggered a dynamic burst of gratification.
He nipped her earlobe and chuckled, “That’s the wondrous thing about phenomenal dick. If you know how to work it, it malfunctions brains. You still thinkin’ about ‘im?”
“Yes,” she sputtered as he engineered a mercurial tempo to unravel her.
His looped arm coiled tighter around her throat, his palm kneading her breast roughly. “I know we’re playin’, but I can’t bear the thought of you belongin’ to another bastard, Diamond. I gotta keep you to myself. You know how greedy I am.”
Tallulah groaned out his name unawares and her voice suffered jerky hitches, his urgent impales affecting the stretched syllables. The back of her head plopped onto his shoulder as she melted into a state of utter submission as his angled strokes hit her toe-curling back-arching sweet spot.
His bruising grip abandoned her hoisted thigh and he seized her cheek, steering her lips into a hungry proprietorial kiss. As he battered her cunt and claimed her mouth, she balanced on the knife edge of an explosive orgasm, his cock shoving at her to take the plunge.
He drank her scream as his passion for her lit an internal fuse, detonating her climax like a flurry of fireworks. A kaleidoscope of vibrant rapture blinded her, delicious shudders jarring her skeleton.
She crumbled limply against him as he escalated his momentum. He severed their ardent kiss and rested his damp forehead against her temple, grunting as he reared and surged into her drenched canal.
His groan came as he lodged his dick into her and stilled, filling her with spurts of his seed.
Both were reluctant to stir as their bodies cooled and breaths evened on the fluffy area rug. Tallulah’s eyelids grew heavier as exhaustion infected her. He unseated his cock from her creamed entrance and extracted a thick furry throw off the adjacent loveseat, blanketing them.
As she lulled to sleep, the date imprinted itself onto her brain, immortalizing its significance. No longer did she need to forget December 15th to protect her heart.
She’d never forget it again.
Her heart will never forget it belonged to him, either.
