In The Library Ch. 20

My hands and fingers caress and trace out the curves of her cheek, the tilt of her chin, and the length of her throat. And her finger traces the pulse at my temple, the rim of my ear, and the length of my neck. Her finger traces down over my lips, down my throat, down the centre of my chest, and there is another button she must undo. And she undoes two more, and pulls the cloth apart and curls one hand around my side to my back, and the other hand is palm flat to my chest, over my heart.

I too take my turn to undo more buttons on her gown, and undo the small pearl beads that hold the white silk over her belly, until the panels of cloth are open down to her hips, and I make one fold of cloth peel away from her body like the wing of a bird and the other crinkle of cloth folds upon the sheets between us.

Her beautiful curved body is exposed for my eyes, her breasts firm and round and each nubbed with a rich red nipple budding proud, crinkling flesh rippled about the firm centre. She is lying on her side, and her breasts curve down to my hands, and I love the weight of them in my palm, and I press onto the hard buds of her nipples and she gasps, and utters a small sigh.

And further down her body her belly is pale and softly rounded, her navel a neat cleaved dip of flesh at the centre of her belly, and there is the tiniest thread of darkness lacing down the centre of her to the base of her belly, for her hair is dark and softly lined and threaded there.

Again she gasps as I trail a finger down her flesh, and with an intake of breath her muscles tighten and her belly is firm. And again our lips and tongues touch and tease and taste, and we share our breath in our closeness. And our hands and fingers are slow and gentle upon each other and there is a delight in our discovery. Our bodies marvel, and we are slow.

But then we are not so slow, for her hand bumps the heat of my risen cock, and my hand palms over the height of her mound and cups the heat of her, between her legs. There is an urgency upon us, and we each take our own clothes off our bodies, for it is quicker that way; and we clasp the lengths of our flesh, limb against limb, my cock against her belly, hard; her breasts against my chest, soft; my hands about her back, and her hands nestled between us to my chest and arms.

We roll upon the bed and my weight is upon her, and then we roll again, and her weight is upon me. And she is above me and arches her head back to better see my face and I gaze to her eyes and hold them wide. And her pupils are big and black and there is a red flush to her neck and her breast. The gold locket bumps against my throat.

And we roll again and I am above her, and one of her hands reaches between her thighs and she opens and slicks herself with her finger, and then grips the shaft of me and pulls me to her centre. And her legs widen and the head of my shaft is into the heat of her, and her legs are wide and her sex is open and her hands are a pull on the tightness of the cheeks of my ass, and she pulls me to the sweet centre of herself and I am in her deep.

And she raises her legs and wraps her thighs along my sides and her calves are against my ass, and I am deeper in her, deep. And with a gasp she is as open as ever she can be, her eyes wide and her mouth an open cry, "oh my God, you are home." And I am as deep in her as ever I can be, and deep, and then still. We are silent and still together, and there is some quiet joy at this togetherness, that has been so long apart and so long coming together.

And my mind spirals, and it is as if I am in two places at the same time, and I cannot tell whether I am moving back through time or forward into time.

And then she buries her face to my neck and grips the back of my head with one hand and the base of my spine with the other, and she holds her cheek to my cheek and I can feel a hot wetness there and it is tears. And as she urges herself up to me faster now and careless of the depth of my thrusts, she doesn't care if I hurt her with my size because she just wants me to be so deep inside her and she under me, and the tears on her cheek are hot and she weeps.

And as she weeps she gasps into the release of her pleasure and her sex tightens and clasps to my prick, and as she comes she arches up to me, and oh my God, yes, she quickens the come from the base of me and we are coming together and are together in our connectedness, but alone in ourselves and in our sadness. And Grace weeps, for even though she is with me now, it is as if she knows it cannot be forever. So as we find ourselves, so do we lose ourselves, and we come together but we are each alone.

After the quickening of our heat and the depth into which we found ourselves, I gently pulled out of her and rolled onto my side, and she too rolled to her side, and her back was against my chest and the softening weight of my cock nestled close to the curve of her cheeks, and she was small in front of me and her cheek was damp with her wet tears. She lay with one of my hands clasped to her breast and her breathing softened and she murmured and even slept a little. I pulled a sheet over our bodies in the cooling night air, but even as she pushed back against me she looked away from me and there was a distance between us, and perhaps it was too fleeting and momentary.

But then there was a disturbance on the stairs to her small apartment, and a rush of wind as the door banged open. "What do you do here, girl, and how did you find him?" There was a tremble in the voice, and an uncertainty.

"Mother, he may look like your boy, but it is not him," Grace shot back, "this one is mine tonight."

"Dear God, sweet girl, tell me you have not coupled with him, you must not."

"It is too late, mother, we are naked here and we have loved."

With a howl of agony, Alexandra her mother tore at the sheet over us and pulled it away from our bodies. Grace twisted to her feet and glared at her mother, her dark eyes blazing, a challenge in them, her breast heaving with her panting breath.

"What is wrong with you mother, are you jealous of me, your own daughter?"

"Not jealous girl, no, not jealous. But I have cursed this family, and done a monstrous wrong upon you and him; for he is your brother. And so much worse than that."

And she turned to me, her face now ravaged with her age but a deathly beauty there still. "Alex, you are a Cain, and we have done an unspeakable thing, you and I, but you have forgotten it. Our bloodline continues in this girl, our Grace, but is a monstrous and twisted thing that I have done. First I birthed you and then I birthed my sweet Grace."

Alexandra wept, and my brain twisted and shifted in this room; and the world spun upon me and my balance spiralled and a dark memory crept to the surface of my mind.

And I looked upon Alexandra and I remembered the night she married, that night when she held her shifted shape and was silent in the strength that it took to hold that long thin shape for so long, that devoured my seed into the depths of her womb.

My name is Alex Cain, and Grace is my daughter.