Author's note/Disclaimer
All characters depicted in sexual situations are over 18.
Of course all characters are fictional, any resemblance with living or dead real persons is pure coincidence.
This is the fourth part of a five-part story. I recommend reading the previous parts if you haven't done so yet.
My thanks go to Joffa for providing his spelling and grammar expertise. His help is highly appreciated. If any errors remain, I'm sure they happened after his editing.
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The events in this part start about a month after the end of part III.
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Part IV Defeating the monster
The last few weeks had been wonderful. Beverly and I were growing closer. There was no real doubt anymore whether or not we were an item. We were rarely seen separated, we clicked perfectly and our thinking patterns fused rapidly.
But not everything was sunshine and roses. I had been talking to Doctor Fish twice a week in an attempt to overcome my depression and my feelings of guilt following the deaths of my wife Sandra and or twins, Cecile and Matthew and the subsequent killing spree I had set out on four years ago. There were some encouraging signs according to Doctor Fish but there was a long way left to go. My hatred and craving for revenge had not yet diminished.
Beverly was of invaluable help in the process. Her loyalty and the unconditional love she heaped upon me contributed massively to every small step forward.
At the same time Beverly herself also still had issues left from the traumatic experience of being assaulted by Donald. The erratic mood swings she has experienced since she was attacked by her then boyfriend still hit her with unabated force and, at the same time that she was an irreplaceable pillar for my psychological healing, she was increasingly dependent on my approval. She was aware of her beauty, she knew that she was a brilliant cook, but aside from those two areas, she was unable to act on her own. My attempts to re-establish her self-confidence had so far proven fruitless.
***
We had just returned from walking the pack. Beverly had quickly got used to these walks and enjoyed them as one of our favourite joint activities. Since I had brought home 'Oslo' six weeks ago, the walks had been a bit more demanding than usual as young puppies shouldn't walk long distances from the beginning while the majority of the pack needed the long walks. So on the standard two hour walks either Beverly or I carried him for prolonged phases. Also he still needed to learn how to walk on the leash, so the walks were more than mere pleasure but also essential training for Oslo.
"Stan, the girls have been pestering me about joining them on a girls night out today. Esther, Nina and some other girls are going to hit the bars tonight and have become increasingly annoying about it."
"Of course. That's a wonderful idea. Have fun! Take a cab home or call if you want me to pick you up somewhere."
"Are you sure that you're ok with it? I will stay here if you want. Or at least I can prepare something for you to eat."
"Beverly. Stop it. It's enough. We need to talk. Now."
I took her by the hand and led into the living room, sat down on the couch and patted on the seat next to me, "Please. Sit."
"Why? What is it? You are breaking up with me! You're kicking me out! I knew I shouldn't have asked."
"No, Bev, I'm most definitely not kicking you out. Just sit down."
Reluctantly she took her seat and turned towards me.
I took her hands in mine, sorted my thoughts, looked her in the eyes and started, "Bev, I'm really worried. I'm worried about your mental health. Since you moved in here you have been behaving erratically. You change from enthusiastic to depressed, from purposeful to disoriented, from alpha wolf to beaten puppy and vice versa within seconds. I've tried my best to get you to participate in the decisions, to include you in the planning, to pull you out of your shell. But so far I've failed.
Partially it is my fault. I should have resisted longer before I gave in to become intimate with you. You were still far too shaken, too much in need of protection. But you're just too damn beautiful and I'm just a man. That's not an excuse but an explanation. I was weak. But another big part of it is your fault.
An example: Would you have asked Donald for permission to go out with the girls?"
She shook her head, "No."
"Then why are you asking me? What makes you think you need my permission? What makes you think I want you to ask for my permission? I've tried my very best to get you out of that fragile state of mind. But I'm failing.
On that ominous day some weeks ago, you made me tell my story and showed me a different point of view. It was the first step of a journey I've embarked on since, together with you and Doctor Fish. I'm far from being over it but for the first time since Sandra, Cecile and Matthew were murdered, I can imagine a future ahead of me. A future which is not consumed by hatred. I owe this future to you. And now it's time to pay the first instalment of that debt. We will not get up from this couch until I know what the real reason for your behaviour is.
So what is it? Why are you suppressing the woman you are?"
"I don't."
"Yes, you do. Tell me."
"No, I don't."
"Yes."
"I can't say."
An opening, a crack to put my foot in, "Why not?"
"I'm afraid."
"Of what?"
She fell quiet, she didn't speak or move for at least a full minute. I waited. Finally she whispered, so quietly I almost didn't hear her, "That I will lose you."
I held her hands tighter, "What makes you think I could abandon you? That you could lose me? Ever since we met I've done everything I can think of to keep hold of you. Don't you see that?"
"But why?" she whispered, almost inaudible, "Why do you need me? There is no reason for you to need me." She slightly increased the volume of her voice, "You are so self-assured, so dominant, so independent, so overwhelming, so all-conquering so... so... so you. And I? I am just an unemployed, useless and dependant piece of trash, good for cooking and fucking." Her voice had reduced to a whisper again, "What if you realise that? What if you realise you don't need me?" Tears started to flow down her face.
I pulled her in an embrace, held her tightly and let her cry out her fear. Finally. Finally I was able to understand the reason for her behaviour. I didn't agree with her of course, but neither had she agreed with my reasoning when I told her about my reasons for withholding from her. I would have to convince her to speak to Doctor Fish. We wouldn't be able to solve this on our own.
When her crying finally slowed, she wiped away her tears and said, "You must think I'm a hysterical psycho."
"Well, you are the one talking to the guy who is seeing a shrink twice a week," I tried to cheer her up a bit but failed miserably. "Bev, please listen. Listen to me very closely now.
I will not abandon you. I will not leave you. I will not let go of you. You are so much more to me than just for 'cooking and fucking'. I honestly don't even care about that. If you didn't cook and slept in the guest room, I would still not let go of you. You are one of the two fundamental pillars my new life is built upon." Of course my pack was the other pillar, I didn't need to mention that, after six weeks she knew.
"It is your unwavering love and support which allows me to talk to Doctor Fish and work on my issues. And that is not even the main reason why I would never abandon you. Do you want to know why? Do you want to know why I could never let you go?"
She looked up, her eyes red and swollen from crying, "Yes."
"I love you. I've known for sure for maybe two weeks now and I should have told you this much earlier. I love you, Beverly Ferguson."
She just sat there. Seemingly frozen. Then slowly her jaw moved a couple times in a futile attempt to speak. Finally she found her voice, "Really? You're not just saying this?"
"Bev, I've told you that I wouldn't say it unless I really mean it. So, yes. Really. I love you, Beverly."
Without a further warning she dived forward and pulled me into a kiss, a frantic, sloppy kiss. She started fumbling on my belt, opening my pants, rubbing me.
"Take me. Claim me. Make love to me. Now."
She pushed down my pants to my ankles and, faster than I thought possible, shed her own. She knelt down in front of me and sucked my half-hard cock into her mouth. With a few bobs of her head, a few flips of her tongue and a few sucking motions she had my cock hard and covered in saliva. She didn't waste time. She got up, straddled my hips, positioned my cock head at the entrance of her literally dripping pussy and impaled herself, rock bottom in one swift motion.
"Mine." She leaned forward and resumed her frantic kissing, "My love. My life."
Finally I recovered from the surprise and returned the kiss. I had been totally stunned by the urgency and the need expressed in her actions. She started to lift herself up and let herself fall down again, I felt her stiffen. That was fast. It usually took a long and thorough foreplay to make sure she would be satisfied in the end.
I reacted to her stiffening by holding her body in place above me and starting to fuck her from below. After only two thrusts I was rewarded with her body tensioning.
As I bottomed out for the third time, she came.
"Ohmygodohmygodohmygod..."
Her pussy clamped down on my cock so hard, I was stuck. I could just hold still. When her pussy finally released its death grip I resumed to fuck her slowly, prolonging her orgasm. With her satisfaction achieved, I let myself quickly drift towards my own release.
"Cum for me, my love, cum for me, shoot your load deep into my waiting pussy."
I obviously wasn't the only one who had learnt to read the partner's signals of the impending release. With a few more thrusts I passed the point of no return, I tensed the muscles on my cock, holding back a few seconds more, my movements came to a halt, she took over, gliding up and down on my hard, tensed cock.
"Cum for me, my love, cum for me."
I released the tension and came. I bucked, gripped her body, pressed her down on me.
