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Araneae
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THE OPENING OF THE door echoed through our darkened bedroom. Despite the hour being somewhere after midnight and before two in the morning, I couldn’t sleep. My thoughts were on many things, including what was happening with the parole hearing scheduled for tomorrow. It had been three days since our family meeting.
Three days of trying to work from home.
Three days of balancing my concerns about my husband and family with those of Sinful Threads and the Sparrow Institute. I missed having Jana work for me at Sinful Threads. She was an asset from her first day. However, she’d found more of a calling at the institute. I knew in my heart that leaving her in charge would keep the Sparrow Institute running the way it should.
She contacted me multiple times a day with updates. Not to mention the numerous emails and conferences online.
A few years ago, Winnie, my friend and onetime assistant to Louisa and me—the founders of Sinful Threads—moved to Chicago to help operate Sinful Threads from here. We’d even made her a partner.
With Jana and Winnie on my side, both businesses were thriving. If it wasn’t for a beautiful four-year-old who wanted to do whatever Mommy was doing, I might actually get something accomplished.
I was thinking about Jana’s last email when the sound of the bedroom door alerted me that I wasn’t alone.
“Sterling.”
I saw his faint silhouette in the darkness seconds before the bed dipped with his weight. Before I could speak again, his lips were on mine. This wasn’t a chaste kiss at discovering I was awake.
No.
It was a cry for help in the only way my husband could do it—without words.
His kiss was possessive, overflowing with both need and passion. His strong lips forcibly took mine as his tongue sought entrance. Willingly, I opened, welcoming his invasion. He tasted like coffee and stress.
Our breaths labored as he pulled the t-shirt he wore over his head before again claiming me. His large hands roamed beneath the silk camisole I was wearing, caressing my skin. It was as if we hadn’t made love in days or weeks. Sterling was hungry for our connection. And after only minutes of his adoration, my appetite was equally as ravenous.
Eight years of marriage and our fervor was as overpowering as it had been when we met. Sterling used to tell me that I was his. He’d said my body knew. I just needed to give my mind time to agree.
As my silk shorts and his pajama pants found their way to our bedroom floor, my mind had no doubt that the vows we’d made were what was meant to be. He was without a doubt the man I was meant to love. He had all of me—my mind, my body, and my soul. We were created to complete the other. There was no other explanation for our bond.
“Fuck,” I called out as he drove deep inside me, my back arching and knees rising, as I lifted my heels to his tight ass.
Smoothing my long hair away from my face, Sterling stared down into my eyes. The darkened room only made his stare darker, much as it would be to gaze into black holes. Even without the light, he pulled me to him.
“You’re fucking perfect.”
My fingers splayed over his strong shoulders as he filled me over and over. What began as a sprint to become one slowed to a steady rhythm. Thrust after thrust, I felt every inch as he pushed himself to the brink and eased his way out.
“Fuck, Sterling. This feels good.”
He cupped my cheek as he continued the slow torture.
In and out.
His wide chest over my breasts. Our bodies skin to skin. There was an inferno burning in the man above me. I could feel the heat in his touch and see the sparks behind my closed eyelids. There was also restraint in his movements, a trepidation I felt.
My hands went to his scratchy cheeks. “Don’t hold back, Sterling.”
His movements stilled. “Fuck, there’s so much.” His forehead tipped down to mine. “I never want to hurt you, Araneae.”
I stretched my neck and lips to meet his. “You never have. You never will.” I kissed him again. “I don’t know all that you’re dealing with, but I remember who you said I am.”
My eyes had adjusted to the dimness as his gaze grew more intense.
“You’re mine.”
Nodding, I said, “You told me I was to be your queen. You’re the king, Mr. Sparrow. Let your queen share your burden.”
“Fuck.” It was more of a roar than a growl as Sterling broke our connection.
Soon, I was on my hands and knees as Sterling molded me to his liking. Putty in his hands, I acquiesced, knowing I’d be rewarded.
He ran his large hand over my behind. “How is this sexy ass?”
I grinned, craning my neck and looking back at him. “If I tell you that it’s fine, will you change that?”
A quick swat came to one cheek and then the other, before he reached for my hips and thrust forward, filling me completely.
“Oh shit.”
With the weight of his body over mine, he teased my hair away from my neck. “That’s it, sunshine. All the obscenities. Get them out.”
And get them out, I did.
I’d asked my husband to share his burden. Time lost meaning as we alternated between unbridled fucking and slow, attentive lovemaking. It was a dance, and the tempo changed from song to song. I heard the melody as Sterling led the way.
I came.
He came.
I came again.
It was as if he had a finish line to reach.
With that goal in sight, his grip tightened. I saw it too, on the horizon with the rising sun. Together we imploded, tremors radiating throughout my body. Each synapse ignited, and I held on tight to the man again above me.
When our breathing steadied and I was thoroughly satiated, lying with my head upon his chest and listening to the steady beat of his heart, I was no closer to knowing the intricacies of his troubles, and yet I knew in my heart that he had shared. The urgency and tenseness within him upon his arrival to the bedroom was gone and replaced by a moment of peace and perhaps exhaustion.
When I awoke, I was again alone.
Stretching upon our soft sheets, I marveled at the depth of sleep I’d found after Sterling’s visit. Wishfully, I hoped that he too had gotten some sleep. It didn’t take long to realize I was sleeping in the nude.
That status was something I tried to avoid since a certain little girl would sometimes find her way into our room and our bed. My muscles ached in the best way as I lifted the covers and moved to the edge of the bed.
On my bedside stand was a note.
Call me when you wake. There’s something we need to tell you.
Love,
Sterling
I couldn’t explain the dread working its way into my thoughts. Whereas seconds ago, I’d been recalling bliss, now I was worried. After a quick turn in the bathroom—donning a robe, splashing some water on my face, and taking care of other things—I tied the robe and made my way to my charging phone.
Sterling’s phone rang once.
“Sterling?”
“Come to ‘2.’”
“Two?” I wasn’t asking for a definition.
I knew what ‘2’ meant. I was questioning his request. In over eight years, I’d stepped foot onto that specific floor less than a half dozen times.
“Yes,” he replied. “We have something for you to see.”
I took a deep breath. “You’re scaring me, Sterling.”
“Sunshine, put on some clothes. Take Goldie down to Lorna in the kitchen and come down.”
“But...”
The call was done.
I stood, my head moving from right to left. “Shit, fuck,” I mumbled as the door to the bedroom creaked open.
“Mommy, what are you saying?”
I hurried to Goldie. “Mommy was singing a song.”
“I don’t know that song.”
“I’ll teach it to you when you’re older. Let’s get ready and go downstairs for breakfast.”
“Can we go to the park today?”
I reached for her hand. “We could pretend.”
Her little shoulders drooped. “I’m sick of pretending.”
Crouching down, I laid my hand on her forehead. “Are you really sick?”
“No,” she replied matter-of-factly. “I’m tired of pretending.”
I smiled as I cupped her small cheeks. “Good use of your words.” I tilted my head. “You’re tired of pretending, but you’re so good at it.”
Her dark brown eyes glistened. “I am?”
I went on, “You can be anyone when you pretend, and we can go anywhere when we do. We can be at a beach or a park.”
“A museum?”
“Even a museum.”
“I know,” she said, “we’ve’s all gots dinosaurs. Can we put them in the living room and pretend it’s a museum...the one with the dinosaurs?”
I grinned. “We all have, not got. And yes, we can pretend it’s the Museum of Science and Industry.”
“And we can make people pay to see them.”
I scoffed. “We’ll see.”
Goldie bounced up and down. “I want to go wake Eddie and Jack.”
“How about we see if they’re downstairs eating breakfast and you can tell them all about it?”
“And they have to do it too.”
Jacquelyn Goldie Sparrow was her father in the female form. Taking her toward her bedroom, I said, “We could ask them first.”
“Okay, we can ask...”