ATTENTION: THE AUTHOR IS POSTING THE LAST CHAPTER ON MAY 5. TO THANK ALL THOSE WHO HAVE READ HER STORY, SHE IS ALLOWING THE ENTIRE STORY TO BE PUBLISHED UNTIL MAY 22.
THIS BOOK OR ANY PORTION THEREOF MAY NOT BE REPRODUCED IN ANY FORM WITHOUT PERMISSION. THE SCANNING, UPLOADING, AND DISTRIBUTION OF THIS BOOK VIA THE INTERNET OR VIA ANY OTHER MEANS WITHOUT THE PERMISSION OF THE PUBLISHER IS ILLEGAL AND PUNISHABLE BY LAW.
SNOW FELL LIGHTLY ADDING to the blanket of snow outside the bedroom window. The sun shone making the snow glitter. The green branches, what was visible, stood out in contrast to the halo of light. Christmas lights blinked in color next door, reindeer in metal moved slowly in the rhythm of mechanics, and a man bundled in his coat shoveled his walk.
Regina smiled at the visual and enjoyed the warmth of the bed she was tucked into. In Texas it rarely snowed where she lived and when it did, it rarely stuck. Not like this. It was a real winter, she thought. Though most would hate to drive in it, she was sure.
Raising her arms up, she stretched her aching muscles and turned to see Robin's side of the bed empty. He'd surprised her the night before. Holding her so tightly, it scared her. Her heart was lost to him and she was terrified that the stress of these few weeks would rid them of the playful and sexual energy they shared.
Already the last couple of days had been intense and she wasn't entirely sure she was ready to be that way with him. Reflecting, she nuzzled into the pillow. They knew each other in only a few months, fell into bed, and fell in love. Was it always that fast? Daniel and she had some flutters and energy, but it hadn't been like this.
Lying there, she tried to understand that with the news of his father, he needed time. In return, she knew she'd be broody and moody when she had to see her sister and her mother. So, might as well get used to the intensity, for now, she mused. There was a sense of urgency in her own intensity. Keeping her intention from Robin didn't sit well with her.
As she let the guilt fill her, she heard the door open behind her. "Hey, I got some coffee."
Turning, she watched him come in with a tray with mugs, bagels, and a daisy tucked into a small fluted vase. Sitting up, she tucked the sheets under her arms as he set the tray over her lap. "Thank you," she smiled.
He sat wrapped in a grey robe, "My mom went to the shops with Loretta, her neighbor."
"Oh," Glancing at the clock behind her, she felt her cheeks burn, "I didn't realize it was so late."
"It's alright, it's kind of perfect. I want to talk to you." He didn't meet her eyes, he sipped his coffee, she sensed his nerves.
"Alright," she took her time spreading cream cheese on a bagel. Taking a small bite, she waited for him to say something. In his own way, he edged closer, laid back against the pillows parallel to her.
"I was six when my parents adopted me," he began. "I don't know who my birth parents are, they weren't the best people." He took a deep swallow from his mug as she ate slowly. "Thankfully, I don't remember much of that time. He drank and when he drank, he got mean. According to my dad, he took it out on my…on her."
"That's awful," Regina said.
"Yea, well when he got tired of taking it out on her, he turned to me. My medical records show I'd broken my ankle when I was three. I don't remember," he waved it off when she tried to take his hand. "They took me out their care and I was put into the system. I moved to nine or ten homes by the time my parents found me."
"Why so many?"
He shrugged, "Who knows? I guess I wasn't what they looked for. The last home I was in, I remember quite well." She saw his jaw clench; his eyes filled with sorrow and grief. Mixed in, she thought she could see shame. "His name was Darrel, this guy who took me in. His wife had died, and he'd told children services, he wanted a family."
Sliding her hand in his, she sensed he needed the comfort. "Tell me," she urged.
"He was worse than my old man, I guess. He knocked me around each time he got. Took out his anger on me. When he thought of his wife, his lack, his depravity was taken out on me. I didn't know what the hell he was doing. I only knew I didn't like it. The social worker explained how he targeted boys like me."
"Did he touch you?"
His skin was hot, his face red, embarrassment and shame in his eyes, "All the time," he admitted. "I figured it was nothing because it started in the bath. Anyway, I'm not going to go into all that. The point is, I told someone, and they got me out. I met my dad, Jordan," he clarified.
"He took you in?"
"I didn't trust him at first, I figured he could the same. But when I got to his house, I met Amelia. She was Amelia to me then," he said. "It took time for me to trust them and my dad never gave up on me. Didn't seem affected when I flinched when he'd put a hand on my shoulder. They were patient."
"I'm so sorry, Robin. That's an awful thing to deal with. I'd say that you got a great family out of it."
"Yea, that's the point. My father made me into who I am. If I lose him…" When his voice broke, she squeezed his hand. Unashamed, tears fell down his cheeks, "He's the only constant guy in my life I trust. I didn't recognize him."
Regina moved the tray to the floor and wrapped her arms around him. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "It's such an empty statement, I know."
"You're here. That says more than any words could." He tightened his arms around her, buried his face in her hair. His mouth hovered over her neck, sucked lightly causing her to jerk.
"Robin…"
"I need you," he said breathlessly. "God, I just need to feel. Please," he begged. When did he have to beg? Pulling back, she looked into his eyes. They were full of sorrow, "I need to disappear for a little while."
She let the sheet fall, "You don't have to beg me," she said.
"Yes, I do," he said. "Because what I want isn't going to be easy on you." She swallowed when he untied his robe, unwrapped himself, and tossed it off the bed. "What I need is rough, and fast, and ruthless. I can't be slow or sweet. I don't want to be, not right now."
His eyes were intense, the vein at his temple throbbed, and he shifted toward her. "Say no, Regina."
"What are you…"
"Don't ask me, because I don't know. When I touch you, it won't be like it has been. You may hate me after."
Her belly jumped with delightful pleasure and fear, "I can handle you."
When he took the sheets and tugged them off her body, he asked, "You sure about that?"
"Yes," she breathed. That breath would be the last clear breath she would take until it was over.
She was wrong, she thought as he crashed his mouth on hers, she couldn't handle him. Not like this. His hands were rough, gripped hard, as he devoured her. Her blood pumped and surged as he flipped her onto her stomach. He pinned her arms behind her back, and she cried out when his teeth sunk into the curve of her shoulder and she erupted.
He greedily tasted her skin, her scent seeped into him, grabbed him by the throat. Anger, grief, sadness, and hopelessness swirled into his heart. He'd do anything to silence them and to lose himself in the passion, the pleasure. His teeth sunk into her shoulder, his hand shot into her warmth. Her body quaked, she came.
His blood began to pound, his brain to fog, this feeling. This is what he wanted to feel, to erase it all. To bury it under the pleasure. She was so responsive, each press, each molding of his hands, she moved along with him. "Let me up," she panted.
"No," he said and drove into her without warning. He moaned loudly in her ear, her cry only urged him on, he gripped her hips, thrust into her fast and frenzied. Her breaths were short and spastic. His bare chest to her back, he ground his hard body to her soft curves. When he felt his control slipping, he eased off. Withdrew from her.
He rolled her over, held her hands above her head, watched her eyes. They were full of lust, wonder. It eased him a bit that she wasn't afraid. Shocked and surprised, sure. That was what he wanted, he wanted her crazy with it. "More?" He couldn't manage to take in a good breath.
He reached down and slid his thumb along her clit, she whimpered. He pressed harder, her body began to shake. He lowered his mouth to hers, drank from her, then released her lips. Eyes on hers, he spoke against her mouth, "Come for me." He worked her up roughly, fast, and harsh. When she shook, he slid his fingers into her, she came. He drowned her into another kiss.
When he let go of her hands, she tried to wrap them around him, he held her wrists to the bed. "What I'm about to do is gonna be rough," he said against her mouth. He hadn't meant to tell her what he was going to do. It seemed like he needed to, for himself. He wanted to warn her because it would kill him if she turned from him.
"I trust you," she sighed.
Maybe, he thought. But she'll change her mind in a second, he mused. Shifting down, he sunk his teeth into her breast, hard. She shook, he could feel her body erupt. His fingers worked her up as he bit down again. Felt her come down, when she began to relax, bit down on the other breast. Took her up in a frenzy.
She sobbed out her pleasure, her eyes were wild, her mouth dry. "Oh, God." He silenced her with his fingers, with his mouth. When she erupted again, he covered her with his mouth, linked their fingers together, and took her roughly up. "I can't…"
He took her clit into his mouth and sucked, hard. She bucked, writhed, and sobbed before she came. He couldn't stop, he thought. He wanted her weak and used. He wanted her so weak that when he filled her, she'd cling and know that he was the only one who could fill her. His mouth took a journey of her body.
He sunk his teeth against her belly, bit down, soothed with his tongue. He kissed the sensitive skin under her breast, bit, soothed. He bit down on her neck where her pulse beat erratically. When he covered her mouth with his, his tongue tangled with hers. He tasted her, tested, teased until she wrapped her legs around him.
"Robin…" she said between her heavy breaths and sobs. He watched her eyes, saw the sweat sleeked over her skin. "I want…"
"What? What do you want?" God, she was gorgeous, he thought. He was rough and relentless and instead of being marred by it, she relished in it. How could he deny her? To his surprise, she snaked a hand from his and reached down, clamped around him. "Fuck," he breathed into his core.
"My turn," she said smirking. Her hands were sinful, he thought. His brain emptied when she slid down the bed and took him into her mouth. He jerked, groaned. Fisting his hands into the sheets, she circled her tongue around the tip. When her lips trailed after her tongue, blood surged there.
"Christ, Regina," he breathed. Her mouth worked on him, he went hard as iron, she grazed her teeth lightly over him and he nearly lost it. His breath shuddered out, he reached down and gripped her hair in one hand. "Stop," he said.
She didn't. Her head lowered, and rose, he felt her moist mouth surround him, took most of him, released him. He yanked her up and sank his mouth into hers. In a bruising kiss, he drove into her. His moan blended with hers. He took her with a desperate wildness. He didn't care how hard or rough, he just needed to forget. To forget it all. When her nails dug into his back, he went wild.
She shook and quaked, his fingers slid roughly along her center, and she squeezed around him. He held on another two minutes, three, drove harder, deeper, and on mutual release, his mind finally emptied.
ROBIN WENT TO THE HOSPITAL AND, REGINA dressed spent her evening with Amelia baking in the kitchen. Amelia had gone to the shops and came back with so many trinkets, baking ingredients, ornaments, and treats. As women, they rolled dough while drinking cocoa with peppermint sticks.
Regina hadn't ever made cookies from scratch, but she wanted to give it a chance. There were tubs, containers, and ingredients all over the island. A can of shortening, which smelled horrendous, sat with the white glob staring at them. Sugar and flour were nestled in tow teddy bear ceramic containers on the counter.
Aside from the shortening was vanilla extract, baking powder, salt, food coloring, sprinkles, various chocolate chips, and some frosting. Amelia helped Regina put together the ingredients, including eggs, to make the dough.
Her fingers were molding the dough over wax paper, she added flour, rolled the dough until it was the perfect consistency. When it was put together in a big ball, she smiled at her success. "Is this right?"
Amelia turned in her snowman apron, her grey curls pinned behind her head in a bun, "It looks perfect. You're a natural," she said.
"Oh, I don't know about nature. You make it look easy," she smiled. "Did you bake with Robin when he was growing up? He seems at home in the kitchen."
Amelia's cheeks bloomed with pride, "I taught him how to cook. My boy wouldn't go without knowing how to make simple dishes. Baking was for fun, he liked cookies and I wasn't around to make them all the time."
Regina sighed, "He's lucky to have you. My father wasn't much of a cook. We got by, but it wasn't like this." Gesturing to all the ingredients, she said, "I've never seen ingredients create something that we'd buy in a store. It's also extremely relaxing."
"It is," Amelia agreed. "I quite enjoy the mixture of vegetables, cutting, slicing, and enjoying the aromas. Robin and I spent a lot of time in this kitchen until he was in high school." She shrugged, "Too cool to hang with him mum."
"Awkward age," she said.
Moving around Regina, Amelia handed her cookie cutters in holiday shapes. There was a Santa, star, stocking, candy cane, and tree all in green and red plastic. "I suppose. Robby always made sure to treat the family as such."
Rolling the dough out, she pressed the dough flat, stuck the cookie cutters into it, and started placing them on a pan. "I had a small family. My mother left when I was fourteen, my sister was seventeen. Zelena lives here in London, I'm seeing her in a few days. My father always made sure our holidays were fun. Even if it was the two of us."
"Family is important no matter how many members there are," she said sitting down with a cup of tea.
"True," Regina said as she continued to add cookies to the pan. "Amelia, did Robin have a lot of trauma after what happened to him as a child?"
"He told you," Amelia said over the rim of her cup.
"Yea," she said sadly. "There are so many kids who have the same trauma and I wondered if he was affected by it."
Amelia put her teacup down, "For a time. Jordan and I made sure that he knew he could trust us. Jordan more than me. He went out of his way to ensure that Robby had a normal childhood. We worked to get him involved in activities. He made friends. It only took a year for him to open. It hits him sometimes, but it's in the past."
"I'm so sorry for what you and your family are going through. I wouldn't wish it on my enemy, losing someone. When I lost my father, well…" She shrugged, "I isolated myself, and my sister and I try and see each other once a year."
Amelia stood put a hand on her shoulder, "That sounds like a lonely life. No wonder my Robby snapped you up," she winked. "I hope this Christmas you'll feel as full as this house." The door opened and closed, "There's my boy now."
Robin walked in, "What's going on in here?" He kissed his mother's cheek.
"Cookies, I recruited a sucker," she laughed.
Regina turned, "I'm not a sucker. I like it." She lifted her head in defiance.
Robin walked to her, "Mmm-hmm." He lifted his finger and wiped flour from her cheek. "Can I help?"
"Grab an apron and wash your hands," she said.
Amelia watched them and smiled, "I'm going to the sitting room to read. You two don't make a mess."
When she walked out, Robin stood behind her, kissed her cheek. "I'm sorry."
"For?" She rolled the dough and began flattening it out with the roller.
"This morning," he said putting an apron on and turning on the water in the sink.
As she put more cutters in the dough, she waited until he stood next to her dumping ingredients into the bowl to make another batch. He seemed confident, at ease. "There's nothing to apologize for."
"Regina," she turned and saw his eyes. They looked tormented, sad. He set the flour down, took her into his arms.
"Your dad?" She tightened her grip.
"Partly," he sighed. "I didn't mean to hurt you. I know I did, don't lie to me." He lifted his head to meet her eyes. "I'm sorry," he kissed her softly.
"Robin, you didn't hurt me. Not really," she clarified. "You're hurting and you used me to bury it."
"I didn't…"
"I'm not saying it's a bad thing. I'm here for you, okay?" She kissed him. "Use me whenever you want," she laughed.
"God," he laid his head on her shoulder, held her tight. With a tired voice, he said, "I don't know how to handle this."
"I know," she closed her eyes. She hoped that she would hear from his doctor soon. If she could take this grief from him, she would. Behind them, Amelia wiped tears from her eyes. Their eyes met, they exchanged a knowing connection.