Short Stories for You

The Incident (Peek)

This is a small excerpt from a larger short story that I've written and entered into an anthology. I wrote it a while ago and don't really care too much whether or not it ends up getting published. I feel like my writing style has blossomed since, so here's the first part. Let me know if you'd like me to post the rest, and I'll do it either when I hear back from the people I submitted it to, or when I just truly don't care anymore. 
--HerbanLegend

While you're waiting for the next chapter of "The Incident" or the next short story in general, check out @SyannePotts story "Imperfect". Link on my message board or just type her name in the search!

The Incident

Paint? Dirt? Or maybe just a wet spot?

 The origins of the tiny fleck above my bed eluded my knowledge yet again. It was something I didn’t think about all too often, but when I did, it consumed my mind.

 Warm breath being blown into my ear sent fading tingles throughout me as my husband’s deep voice erupted in passionate moans. He placed sweat-laden kisses from my ear to my mouth, barking a quick command through each wet peck.

“Get on top.”

I got from under him, giving up my vantage point and effectively ending this round of Guess the Ceiling Stain. I straddled his legs, his pale hands gripping my caramel skin hungrily. With my hands on his bare chest, I looked down into his eyes. The depth of the pools of jade looking back at me was almost too much to bear.

 There was so much love, passion, and desire in them—I had to look away. He’d see my thoughts and emotions through my face.

 Things had been growing worse over the last few months, since The Incident. It pained me to think about. Lerian was the victim in the situation. Innocent, unknowing, and full of underserved love. I was the problem and I was the only one who knew it. But instead of being a good woman, a good wife, I was staring at a stupid fleck while my husband showed his love for me.

 In somewhat of a breaking moment for me, three things became certain as I pondered on my feelings for my husband.

 The first was that I was right. I was well on my way to having a repeat performance of The Incident. All the signs had been there, I’d been worried about it for months, but admittedly, I’d been avoiding the truth. I’d told myself every lie in the book.

 I’d never sink that low again.

 It didn’t mean anything.

 Leiran hadn’t found out, I’d had my fun, and it was over.

 But it was never over. It was waiting, a sea of placid desire; the calm before the storm. The waves had been lolling against my resolve, eroding my will away grain by grain. Then, the tides grew stronger, the water rolled in, and the voices started. Whispers and nudges here and there. My dreams weren’t dreams, only memories of how I had felt. Free but helpless, but so good. So right.I knew it would only get worse with time.

 The second thing I knew was that Lerian could never be what I needed, he couldn’t quench me.

 I loved him. He meant the world to me. But if he saw that side of me he wouldn’t understand. He’d leave, and I couldn’t bear life without him. But in spite of everything I felt for him, the final thing I knew was that tonight would be the night that I relapsed.

His body began convulse upwards, his strokes were frantic, a sign that he was about to climax. After a few more seconds, a couple passionate thrusts from him and forced moans from me, he was spent. I leaned down and kissed him, then I watched as he dozed to sleep.