Inadequate

She wanted him to ravish her.

She felt his hands on her hips. His caress was affectionate. Soft. Gentle. Every time he touched her, it was as if he was trying to convey his love for her through his touch. Normally she appreciated his tenderness. Normally she loved it when he made love to her. Right now, though, she wanted him to take her. She wanted him to throw her on the bed. She wanted him to overpower her. She wanted him to fuck her.

She wanted him to ravish her.

She knew he loved her. There wasn’t any doubt in her mind. She wanted to know he lusted for her. She wanted to know that she aroused him. She wanted to know that he got hard not just from the feeling of her hand or her mouth on his cock. From the sight of her naked. From the thought of being in her. From the anticipation of sex with her. She wanted evidence of his carnal desires.

She wanted him to ravish her.

His lips nibbled at the back of her neck as his hands moved from her hips to her stomach. Their naked bodies were so close, but he still content to simply make slow circles on her stomach. She pulled away from him, and when she glanced over her shoulder, she saw bewilderment in his eyes. She was the one who interrupted him while he was doing their taxes. She was the one who had stripped him naked. She was the one who practically dragged him to the bedroom.

She crawled onto the bed, remaining on all fours. Again, she turned to look over her shoulder, arching her back and presenting herself to him. Like some wild animal, inviting a male to mount her. She felt mildly ashamed. Even the small smile that crossed his face couldn’t completely erase that feeling. He joined her on the bed, bringing his mouth to the dip in her back. She felt his hands on her hips. She dropped her head and waited to feel his body entering hers. Instead, she was surprised when he maneuvered her body so she was lying prone, looking up at their ceiling. His hands returned to her hips and he kissed her stomach. He must have seen the dismay on her face when he looked up, because the bewilderment returned.

“What’s wrong? Do you want to be on top?”

“I just…I want you to fuck me.”

She closed her eyes as she said it, embarrassment intensifying.

She sounded like a whore.

No, not even a whore. Whores are paid for their services. They get fucked, but only because their John wants to fuck them. Their own wants are irrelevant.

She sounded like a slut.

A slut lying in bed, telling the guy to hurry up and get it over with. To make her come. To do it hard and fast and get out of her bed so she can roll over and go to sleep and go out the next day and do it again.

Not like a woman lying in bed with her husband of eleven years. But she needed this. An orgasm alone wasn’t going to fix this.

“Are you okay?”

She kept her eyes close, unable to discern anything of value from his sentence. She had never asked him for this before. She had never needed it before.

“Am I attractive?”

Her eyelids still obscured his face from view. Her husband was a rotten liar. She would know. She thought she wanted to know. But maybe she really didn’t.

“What are you talking about? You’re beautiful. You know that.”

His hand rubbed her hip, but now it was for comfort. Reassurance.

Beautiful.

Ha.

Her hair was going gray. Wrinkles were appearing on her face even though she used that alpha-hydroxy lotion every night. There was more fat on her frame than there was before. She didn’t turn heads like she used to. How could he say she was beautiful? How could he think she was beautiful?

He was lying. He had to be. There was no other explanation. She refused to open her eyes and confirm what in her heart she suspected was true.

He was her husband. He made love to her because he loved her. Because he was her husband. Because he felt he had to.

He got hard and came inside of her, sure. But it was because she touched him. Because of physical stimulation. It’s a natural response. A human response. A natural physiological response. He didn’t have to find her attractive to get off.

She wanted him to lust for her. To desire her.

Not just love her. Love wasn’t enough.

He said nothing.

She hated when he did that. He was thinking. Contemplating. Judging what would be the best thing to say to remedy her problem.

Love wasn’t enough. Words weren’t enough. Maybe nothing was enough.

She rolled over onto her side, away from the weight on the mattress that she knew was him. A small cry escaped her lips as he shoved her face down onto the mattress. Her eyes opened out of shock, not because of a voluntary reaction. Although tempted to look over her shoulder at him, she kept her gaze averted. She had seen him angry. She had even seen him angry at her. But she didn’t know what was going through his mind at the moment. And she was afraid of what she might see.

His hands were strong as he pulled her up by her arms, planting her hands on the rungs of their headboard. Up on her knees now, she held on as he pushed her legs apart and angled her pelvis. At this point, she knew what was going to happen, but when she felt him enter her, it still surprised her. It was a familiar feeling, and yet it wasn’t. He didn’t inch his way in. He didn’t make sure she was ready for him. He rammed his erection into her body in one quick motion. Her grip tightened and she let out a tiny sob. Normally he would have stopped. He would have forced her eyes to meet his, demanding her to tell him if she was okay, asking permission to continue.

He didn’t. His fingers were strong as they held her hips still. He didn’t allow her to move as he began to thrust. There was no slow buildup. There was no easy rhythm. He fucked her hard, banging her body with his. The top of the headboard hit the wall with each thrust and she released her grip on the rungs, her face falling into the pillow. The angle of his penetration changed, and she cried out again.

He still didn’t stop. If anything, it seemed to fuel him. He plunged into her more deeply. The sound of the headboard knocking against the wall got louder. It felt like hot, wet steel was being slammed into her. She muffled her cries in the pillow, aware of the fact that they almost seemed anguished. She didn’t want him to start second guessing his behavior.

She didn’t want him to stop.

“Is this what you wanted?”

His voice was gravelly. She had never heard him like that before.

“You wanted me to fuck you? Fuck you nice and hard?”

She couldn’t respond. He didn’t usually talk dirty when they had sex. In between the sensation of him rapidly filling and then vacating her body and the shock of hearing him speaking like that, she couldn’t produce coherent speech.

“You wanted to feel what you do to me?”

Muscles were tensing. Liquid was beginning to drip down her legs. She knew her climax was coming, but that didn’t dull the intensity any when it hit. Her cry sounded like a something coming from someone being tortured. Even as her walls closed in on him, trying to trap him inside, he kept thrusting, even harder now. She was astounded that he was still going. Normally if he was still hard when she came, her release was all it took.

“You wanted to know how hard you make me?”

She groaned, nails ripping at the pillowcase. Her body felt weak. The only thing keeping her pelvis from the mattress was his hand, still holding her hips. His strokes were fast and forceful. She let loose one last cry and he stilled, climaxing into her. Even his semen seemed more powerful as it hit her walls. He pulled out of her abruptly and released her body, causing her to fall hard against the bed. She trembled, feeling their combined juices oozing out of her onto the sheets. He lay down next to her, his face red and sweaty with exertion. As he brushed a hair out of her face, she realized she was sweating too.

There was concern in his eyes. She wasn’t sure why. Was he worried that he hurt her? That he had overstepped some boundary? That he had violated her?

Or was he just worried that his efforts hadn’t fixed what was wrong with her?

She didn’t know if it had.

Fin.