Teacher's Crossroad

When he returned to his senses, he was standing over Tyson, breathing hard, and his hands hurt so much. Kane's body was hard from solid, dense muscle and bone, no fat. Devon had broken the small fingers on both of his hands from striking Tyson's body with the attacks he'd learned in his martial arts training, something he'd never used on another soul... until today.

He scowled down at the stunned man on the floor, wondering how he'd survived the accident that took Imani from him.

"Why are you still alive?" Devon growled.

Tyson blinked up at him. "You beat me up. You didn't kill me."

"NO! WHY DIDN'T THE TRAIN KILL YOU, TOO!" Devon raged, spittle flying from his lip.

Tyson paused as pain flared. "I don't know. Sometimes... I wish it had."

Devon hit Tyson again and pulled his hand back as he hissed in pain.

Tyson blinked as he pushed the pain back and looked up at the surgeon. "Pretty fucking stupid for a doctor to hurt his hands like this."

Devon glared down at him. "You're right, but I forgot, you're the fucking genius, aren't you." Then he drove his foot into Tyson's side with a vicious kick.

He was rewarded by a groan from the man, then something heavy landed on his back and tore at his face. He spun, and the female cyclist flew off to land on the sofa with a thump.

Devon tentatively touched his face and winced. His fingers were coated in blood when he pulled them back. "You fucking bitch! What did you do to my face?" He took a step towards the cowering woman when something clamped on his ankle with bruising force. He screamed in pain as the grip tightened.

"Miranda! GO!" Tyson shouted, and she jumped off the couch and raced out the open front door.

Devon kicked at Tyson again, but he blocked it with his arms as he let go of Devon's ankle. He turned to the door to catch that slut who scratched him.

"She told me."

Devon stopped as the quiet words rang in his head. He turned to see Tyson watching him from the floor, his face bloody, but his eyes locked on Devon's.

"She told you? She told you what? Did she say we had an affair?" Devon asked quietly as his blood began to boil.

Tyson just watched him, eyes silently judging him.

"I FUCKING LOVED HER! I WOULD HAVE BEEN A BETTER HUSBAND THAN THE FAT SLOB YOU WERE BACK THEN!" Devon screamed.

"I-I loved her..." Tyson said.

"You should have shown it better than you did, or she wouldn't have turned to me for sex!" Devon snapped.

Something in Tyson's eyes told Devon he hadn't known. He'd been bluffing, and now he was hearing proof for the first time. "Fuck. You really didn't know," he sighed in disgust. Well... fine. He wanted Tyson to hurt like he was hurting.

"The first time was in Indianapolis. After the convention, we went to the bar and got drunk. Imani followed me back to my room, and she gave me a blowjob. She wasn't too good, but even then, I was captivated by her. She wouldn't let me have sex with her, but I was able to eat her pussy. Then she left."

He smiled at the pain he saw in Tyson's eyes, so he continued.

"Imani was a little stand-offish at work for a while, but at the San Francisco convention, she went to my room with me, and this time she wasn't drunk. Her hands were all over me. She was much better at swallowing my cock and my cum when I fired it down her throat. Again, she refused to fuck, but I knew it was just a matter of time."

Tears ran down Tyson's face now, and Devon felt a wave of vengeful joy pass through him.

"We'd meet at every opportunity, and eventually, I fell in love with her." He began to pace. "Finally, I had to have her, completely, heart and soul, not just her mouth. I came here to beg her to divorce you. I told her I wanted to marry her and make her happy every day." Devon's joy evaporated as quickly as I arrived. "You know what she told me? She wouldn't because she loved you! Isn't that fucking ridiculous? She loved you, but she'd suck my cock on the side? How is that love?"

He frowned as images of their last liaison flashed through his mind. "I knew if we made love, she'd see we were meant for each other." He panted with tension. "So, I took her. On your bed. I fucked her... so hard. She screamed when she came. I felt her squeezing my cock so tight." He was gasping as his chest tightened. "After, she told me to leave. She said she wouldn't press charges if I left." He shook his head. "She should have loved me," he mumbled. "That night, you went to the party..."

Devon turned to give Tyson another kick to the ribs. Instead, his head snapped back as a big fist crushed the cartilage of his nose. The fist hit him again, and he felt something break in his face, and a light flashed. He opened his unaffected eye and saw Tyson falling to his knees, his fury-driven energy exhausted. Devon smiled as he was going to make Tyson pay for those hits.

When the big fist drove his balls up into his body, he squealed as his eyes rolled back, and he dropped to the floor, unconscious.

-=-

Tyson rocked on his knees, exhaustion pulling at his mind, but he needed to... there was something he needed to do.

Red and blue lights lit up his open door, and he had nothing left. He slumped back to the floor, unconscious before he landed.

Chapter 9

Tyson woke in a hospital bed in dim lighting, and his anxiety spiked as he tried to recall if he'd ever left the hospital after the accident. His time sense was fucked, and his mind was right back to the night after.

Except, the pain had been worse then, much, much worse.

The physical pain he felt at the moment was a mere shadow of his earlier agony.

The mental anguish... he didn't know how to deal with what was going through his head. Devon's confession had taken him by surprise, and the knife of pain it caused was still deeply embedded in his heart.

Every. Breath. Hurt.

"I'm sorry, Sugar. I'm so sorry."

He couldn't deal with her now. He closed his eyes and went through his equations, but this time when he opened them, she was still there, looking too lovely to bear. He turned his face away.

"Go away," he said quietly.

"I can't—"

"WHY?" he yelled.

That question resonated in his mind. He needed answers he knew he would never get, certainly not from a figment of his own mind.

"Mr. Kane? Are you awake?"

He looked towards the door, and a nurse was entering with a look of concern on her face.

He realized he had tears running down his face and tried to reach for the box of tissues. The woman handed it to him. Once his face was dry again, he nodded to her. "Yes... thank you. Sorry for yelling."

She gave him a sad smile. "It's okay. You've had a hard day."

He smiled weakly at her. "It wasn't all bad. I rediscovered the joy of cycling. I saw my friends at the university. Okay, the ending sucked." He shifted on the bed. "Wilson didn't break any of my bones, did he?"

"No, from what I understand, you only have bruises. A lot of them, but nothing serious. They're only keeping you in for the night because you were unconscious when they brought you in." She glanced at the doorway then smiled back at him. "Dr. Wilson has broken bones in both hands, a broken orbital, and his nose will need full reconstruction. His face is also very badly scratched. He looks a mess. Not sure what happened to his groin, but I saw a lot of uncomfortable faces on the other male doctors."

Tyson's expression dropped. "Wilson raped my wife."

The nurse gasped. "How do you know?"

His expression remained grim. "He was boasting. He didn't understand how that didn't make her love him."

Tyson felt the gentle touch of a tissue on his cheek. Was he crying again? He reached up and tried to dry them, but they kept coming, then he couldn't stop them.

The nurse stayed with him until exhaustion pulled him under once more.

-=-

The next morning. Tyson was sitting in a wheelchair at the hospital's exit, arguing with the admin staff, who insisted he get a drive home. He insisted he couldn't do that.

He grew more agitated until Miranda appeared at his elbow. He looked up at her in relief.

"It's okay, we have him now," the young woman said to the office worker and gestured over her shoulder. Raúl was visible sitting in his pickup in the drive. The clerk nodded and left.

Tyson looked at Miranda with a troubled expression. "I can't—"

She patted his shoulder. "I know. How much pain are you in?"

He blinked at her. "I'm sore, but I can walk."

"If you're well enough to walk, you can ride your bicycle," she said and guided him outside.

Raúl was taking Tyson's bike out of the back of the truck.

Tyson smiled gratefully at Miranda and got a brilliant smile from her. Then he was puzzled. "How did you get my bike out of my house?"

"After the ambulances took you and Wilson away, I used your keys from the counter to lock the house. Raúl picked me up and brought me to the hospital, but they wouldn't let me see you. This morning, I called to find out when you'd be released. We picked up your bike, helmet, and gloves from your place and locked up again."

Miranda took his hand in hers. "When he drove past me on the road, he almost hit me, and he was so angry. I had a bad feeling, so I rode back and found him standing over you. I didn't think before I attacked him. He tossed me off and was going to beat me, too, when you stopped him. When you told me to run, I only went as far as the driveway, where I called the police. He didn't follow, so I went back to the door and listened as I waited for the police. I gave the police a statement after you were taken away, and I told them everything I heard."

Tyson held her eyes. "The police know he raped her?" Miranda nodded, and after a moment, Tyson made a single stiff nod.

He put on his gloves and helmet as Raúl got Miranda's bike from the truck, too. The brother waved to them and drove off.

Tyson eased himself onto the bike and took some breaths to calm his shaky muscles. Aside from some aches from his bruising, he thought he was okay. He followed Miranda out of the driveway and across town to the entrance of the path to the lake. He loved the familiar road and was grateful they could take their time and not worry about cars.

Miranda was satisfied to just ride in silence with him.

Soon enough, they reached the lakefront road and stopped before his driveway.

"Thank you so much for bringing the bicycle to the hospital. I wasn't looking forward to walking all the way home." He held his hand out for his keys.

"My bag's inside," she said.

"Your bag?" he asked.

"I spoke with Christy and filled her in on everything that's happened. We both agree that you shouldn't be alone tonight. She's still out of town, so I'm going to do it."

Tyson frowned. "I've been alone for six years. I don't need—"

"You know it's different now. I wish I could have been there with you last night. You shouldn't have had to deal with that news alone," Miranda said gently, and Tyson caught himself sucking in a deep breath as his chest tightened. She saw him do it, so she touched his arm as she walked her bicycle past him to the front door. She pulled the keys from her pocket and let herself inside. She leaned her bike up against the wall next to the door as Tyson came inside with his bike and put it next to hers.

"You don't have a garage. Is this where you'll keep your bicycle?" Miranda asked.

Tyson was still feeling a little cross at being bossed around by Christy and Miranda, so he just nodded tersely. "For now." He marched across the living room to his bedroom and grabbed a pair of shorts and a t-shirt before going into the bathroom and closing the door. He peeled off his clothes and stepped into the shower. He wanted to wash the hospital funk from his body.

The spray stung his bruises, and he hissed painfully, but he pushed through it and washed his hair and body clean.

Tyson's muscles were trembling when he shut the water off and stepped out. He leaned against the counter and tried to catch his breath. Between his beating the night before, his disturbed sleep, and pushing himself to ride home, his body was saying enough. He tried to pull his shorts on but dropped them instead.

"Shit!"

The bathroom door opened, and Miranda was looking at him in concern.

"Haven't you heard of knocking?" he growled with a shaky voice.

"You moaned all through your shower, and I can see you're about to fall down. Come on, you've done enough today. Besides, I've seen you naked," she insisted.

She moved next to him, put her arm around his back, and had him put his arm over her shoulder.

Miranda walked him out of the bathroom and over to his bed. "You look exhausted, so I want you to get a little rest."

Tyson wanted to argue, but he knew she was right.

"Do you want something for the pain," she asked as she pulled the sheets down.

"No. I'm tired of feeling drugged," he muttered as his fatigue quickly caught up to him.

He slipped under the covers slowly, easing himself down, feeling every bruise demand some attention, then he sighed as he rested back on the pillow. His eyes were already closing when he felt soft lips pressed against his forehead. He managed to force his eyes lids open enough to glance up at the blushing face of the brunette standing next to him, then he let sleep take him.

She woke him later to feed him some dinner: soup, and a slice of bread, then he slipped under again.

When he woke again, the house was dark, and he felt warmth in the bed next to him. He saw dark hair spread across the pillow next to his and Miranda's sweet face as she slept.

He eased himself out of bed, stifling the groans from his aching muscles. He silently left the bedroom and closed the door. He walked over to the patio doors facing his backyard and stared at the dark lake beyond. The moon was giving just enough light to make out the end of his property where the water began.

"The lake doesn't want you."

He sighed as he'd known his mind would dredge her up. He had questions he wanted to ask but knew he'd only get back what he already knew. Still, he felt the need to voice them. He glanced to his right, and Imani was standing next to him in her silk nightie. So beautiful. So sad. He looked back to the lake. He didn't want to see her sorrow, as he was the one hurting.

"It seems you didn't need me either," he said quietly.

"I always needed you," Imani's voice protested gently.

"But I wasn't enough."

"I was greedy."

Tyson's eyebrows rose. He hadn't been expecting that response. As he thought about Imani's behavior at the hospital faculty parties, he recognized she enjoyed the attention she received from the men she worked with, so he understood that he could have interpreted that as greed.

"And I wasn't physically attractive. You wanted that, too. You wanted to be with him," he forced out.

"I love you," she whispered.

"Yet you sucked his cock, again and again! Something you refused to do with me," he spat. He had an epiphany. "Is that why you didn't do it with me?"

"Yes," she said quietly, her shame evident in her tone.

He shook his head viciously. His brain was taking liberties. He couldn't know if she'd been ashamed. Maybe she'd only be sorry that she got caught. After all, she'd never confessed.

He recalled her words in the car that night. The anger and the sharpness of her tongue as she accused him, him, of infidelity.

"Hypocrite," he snapped.

"I'm sorry. I was afraid."

Once more, he'd surprised himself. Afraid? Where the hell did that come from?

"Bullshit." He refused to let his brain feed him lies.

"You were so occupied with your passion, I felt left behind. I couldn't participate in that part of your life."

He knew she'd felt a little intimidated by his occupation, but he'd assured her he wasn't expecting her to fake an interest in math just for him. He accepted they had different strengths.

Tyson dragged up his memories of their marriage and looked at his behavior critically. Had he been inattentive? He recalled the kisses and hugs he'd stolen from her as she was trying to get ready in the morning, the giggles, and how she'd push him away. He hadn't done that every morning and maybe it happened less in the last year of their marriage... but she'd made no mention of feeling neglected or unsatisfied. He shook his head. This didn't explain her infidelity. He was grasping at straws.

"Bullshit. That doesn't justify what you did."

"I know," she sighed, the sound full of regret.

He raised his hands and pressed the heels into his eyes. He had to stop his brain from assigning the hallucination emotions he couldn't possibly know she felt. That was just wishful thinking, and he wouldn't lie to himself.

"I want you to leave," he said and looked to Imani, but Miranda was standing there in her place. "Oh!" he started.

"Can I wait until morning?" she said quietly.

"Morning? Oh! I wasn't talking to you! You can stay!" he backpedaled.

Miranda's brows came down as she looked closer at him. "Who were you talking to?"

He sighed as he didn't really want to involve too many people in his hallucinations, but he couldn't see a way out of this. "My wife. Or rather, my mind, which brings her image to me occasionally for awkward conversations like this."

Miranda's eyes were like saucers as she looked around the room. "You see her now?"

"No, she's gone—I mean, I'm no longer having the hallucination. I don't believe in ghosts," he insisted.

Miranda shivered and made the sign of the cross. "My mother saw her mother for a few months after she crossed over. She gave my mother some beneficial advice. She returns from time to time but only to my mother. She locked eyes with Tyson. "We believe."

He was suddenly weary once more. He didn't want to argue with the girl. "I'm going back to bed."

Miranda took his hand and followed him back to the bedroom. They both got under the covers and snuggled in. Miranda rolled onto her side with her back to him but reached for his arm and pulled him onto his side to spoon her.

That brought his naked cock in direct contact with her round ass cheeks. He tried to pull back, but she pulled him closer.

He felt lips on his palm as she pulled his hand to her face. She sensually kissed each fingertip, then her tongue was stroking his thumb. This had a direct effect on his cock, which swelled and pressed between her legs. She lifted her top one, and his shaft rose to slap against her wet pussy.

She moaned and sucked on his thumb as her hips rolled, stroking his shaft against her wetness.

He was a little dazed by how quickly she was becoming aroused. He wondered if it had something to do with her perceived brush with the supernatural.

His need for her was building. He wanted to stop her, as once more he was getting involved with a girl far too young for him. Additionally, his bruises were still sore, so he wasn't feeling all that athletic, and her movements were escalating.

When she reached down and positioned the head of his cock against her opening, he made to protest, but before he could, she drove her ass back, and he was sinking deep inside.

"Ahhh, Tyson! So goooood," she sighed.

He could only grunt his agreement as it felt too good for his brain to process. Her ass was pressing against him, and her powerful muscles were squeezing him so well; he wanted more.

In a sudden move, he rolled her onto her stomach as he moved with her. Now he was able to drive himself into her from above. This angle made the head of his cock rub against the front surface of her vagina. This appeared to be very stimulating.

"OHFUCKOHFUCKOHFUCK! TYSON! YES! HARDER!" she cried, and he granted her wish. He was struggling against the ache in his muscles, but his need for her was stronger, and the room filled with the sound of his pelvis slapping her ass cheeks.