Read Now She's Gone: A Novel Online
Authors: Kim Corum
Now She's Gone: A Novel
Now She’s Gone
ALSO BY KIM CORUM
99 Martinis: Uncensored
Breaking the Girl
The Other Woman
Eager to Please
Dead Sexy Vampire Erotica: Two Dark and Thirsty Stories
Cursed By Love
I Married a Vampire: A Tale of Vampire Erotica
Breathe: A Tale of Vampire Erotica
Sex Scenes Erotica Excerpts: Volumes 1 and 2
Sex Scenes: Erotica Excerpts from the Novels of Kim Corum
Take Your Shirt Off: A Novel of Hollywood
Now She’s Gone
Kim Corum
Belle Epoch
Now She’s Gone: A Novel. C
opyright © 2013 by Kim Corum.
This edition published in 2013 by Belle Epoch.
eBook ISBN–13:
978-1-938107-42-9
eBook ISBN–10:
1-938107-42-X
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the publisher. For more information,
email [email protected].
First published by New Tradition Books in 2003.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead is entirely coincidental.
For those who follow their hearts.
You Know I Love You, Don’t You?
“Come here,” she said.
I glanced over at her. She was sitting in the middle of the bed, her clothes still intact, her shoes on the floor.
“Bruce?” she called. “Come here.”
I stood in the doorway and just stared at her. She was so beautiful. I still couldn’t believe how lucky I was to have her. Her petite body was held up by strong muscles, especially in her legs. They were so strong looking, so curvy, so feminine they looked unreal, like doll legs. She hated her legs.
I walked over and bent at the waist, bent down towards her. Her lips met mine, brushed them, then she leaned back on her elbows and said, “You do it.”
I complied and took my time undressing her. I always did. It was like I was unwrapping a present. Inside the clothes was my gift—her, her body, which she shared readily. Which she gave to me, to the world without hesitation. As long as I shared mine, she would share hers.
I wondered briefly if she shared it with anyone other than me. I forced the thought out of my mind and pulled her shirt over her head. I stared at her breasts. They were popping out of the top of her bra, heaving deliciously as her breath began to quicken. I bent down and began to kiss the top of them, to lick them, to nibble on them until she moaned and pushed me down, towards the nipple. I pulled her bra down and sucked on it until she grabbed me by the head and pulled me back to her mouth. She kissed me as I tugged her skirt up over her hips and she tugged my pants down.
I stopped and stared into her eyes. She stared back, her eyes mockingly growing wide and giggled. “What is this? A staring contest?”
I laughed a little and looked away, then back at her. “No.”
“Come on,” she said. “We don’t have much time.”
“We’ve got all night,” I said.
“
Shh
,” she muttered and grabbed onto my dick. “Give it to me.”
I let her play with it for a minute or two, enjoying the way she stroked it. She knew how to do it just right. Up and down gently at first, then harder, with more pressure until I was about to burst. I felt the first bit of pre-cum. She felt it too and smiled up at me. She knew me too damn well.
I pushed her back on the bed and opened her legs with my knee. She went with me and spread them out, then her hand was between her legs, playing with herself as she looked back at me. She was so wet she glistened.
I couldn’t stand it anymore.
I fell on top of her and shoved my dick into her, drawing in my breath. That first contact between her pussy and my dick was always the best; it always made me lose my breath. Right before I got all the way in, I could feel her, all of her. And she belonged to me.
I took my time sliding in, enjoying the way her pussy sucked my dick in, enjoying the way it felt. There was no better feeling.
She gave an abrupt thrust and finished the job, pushing me all the way in. She grinned at me. She knew I hated it when she did that.
She told me, “I said I don’t have all night.”
I didn’t reply. I gave her another good thrust, so good that she gasped.
“Harder,” she moaned.
I did it harder, really ramming it into her. We fucked for a few minutes staring into each other’s eyes. Whenever we had sex, I couldn’t look away from her. I don’t know why, but I just couldn’t.
“Do you want to fuck me doggie?” she whispered in my ear as she licked on it. “Huh?”
I stared at her. She was already wearing me out. I loved it when she did that.
“You know I do,” I panted back.
“Then do it, big man,” she said and eyed me as sweat began to bead on her forehead.
I pulled out as she got up on her hands and knees, her ass pointing at me. I took a moment to run my hands along it before I bent and began to devour it with my mouth. I pushed her legs open and went for her pussy, her wet pussy. She was always so wet, so ready. I sucked at it until she began to come. And I knew she was coming because she never held back. She grabbed onto the sheet and began to pant, the panting would turn into a long moan and the moan would turn into a scream which would build slowly in her throat as the orgasm built then would intensify as it deepened. It would come out in a roar, softly at first, then with more intensity, “…
ooohhhHHHHHGOOOOOODDD
!”
I loved that sound more than anything in the world. I loved fucking her when she made it.
“Oh, God, Bruce, fuck me!”
I gave her pussy one last slow lick, then a suck, then a kiss, then I got up, stuck it in and gave it to her. She was still coming as I began to fuck her. Her orgasms were always so long, so powerful. I felt that mine paled in comparison.
I leaned over and put my hand on her clit so she could come again. She loved that. She told me so as she moved against it and held onto me for everything it was worth. Her pussy just clamped onto my dick and never let go.
“Harder!” she panted.
She was insatiable. She couldn’t help herself. She began to buck up against me, fucking me so hard I couldn’t hold myself back and I began to pound into her, unable to control myself or her, just allowing my body to do what it wanted and it wanted to fuck her, every inch of her.
“Come on, baby,” she grunted. “Fuck me harder. I know you can do it.”
But I couldn’t. I couldn’t hold on to it any longer. I was coming just as she came again. She pushed me off, grabbed my dick, and began to stroke it hard until I spewed all over her beautiful breasts. I loved for her to do that. She gave me an extra treat and took it in her mouth and finished me off, sucking me dry. When she was done, she swallowed hard and gave me a mischievous grin. I grinned back and she came to my mouth and kissed me, pulling me down on her as she wrapped her legs around my waist and held me tight, like she was never going to let me go.
We lay there for a few minutes until our hearts slowed down. I let out a good sigh. Now
that
was a good fuck. I had to be the luckiest man in the world. I
had
to be.
“Get my vibrator,” she said.
“Why?” I asked and buried my face in her hair.
“I want to come again.”
I got her vibrator.
* * * * *
The first thing I noticed when I woke up the next morning was that she wasn’t in bed with me. This wasn’t unusual. She usually got up a lot earlier than me on the weekends.
“Honey?” I called.
No answer. I sighed and rolled over. It was Saturday. We’d do an early lunch, then grocery shopping. She hated grocery shopping with me. She liked to get in and get out. I meandered too much, she said and I always wanted to buy all kinds of junk food she couldn’t eat because, “It will turn me into a
lardass
! Do you want that? Huh?” I’d always shake my head. She’d say, “Then put that crap back on the shelf.” And I would, but I’d sneak it back in the buggy just before we checked out. She would shake her head at me but not say one word about it again. That was our game at the grocery store. I think it amused her. She once said, “How the hell did you get those snowballs into the buggy without me seeing you?” I wasn’t about to tell her. It was my secret.
Maybe we’d have a quickie in the afternoon. God, I hoped so. Saturdays were good for quickies. I loved quickies. But I didn’t complain if they went into overtime, either.
Where was she?
“Sandy!” I yelled. “Can we go to Legend’s?”
I really wanted a good burger for lunch. Legend’s was the best place in Atlanta for burgers. She’d have a burger, too. Today was her hamburger day. “Just one,” she’d say. “And I’m back on the rabbit food for the rest of the week.”
We could share some fries and onion rings. That would be good. I was getting hungry just thinking about it.
“Sandy!”
No answer. She must still be mad at me about the building. But it was over now. I’d be home more and we’d be able to go to Europe, just like she wanted. I was the boss and I could take some time off.
“Sandy?” I called again.
Still no answer. She was mad. Yup.
Knew it!
She was still pissed off because I’d spent so much time away from home. Well, let her be mad. She’d get over it.
I got up and went into the bathroom. I took a piss and a deep breath. My chest hurt a little. Too many cigarettes. I should quit.
I glanced over at the new shower curtain. I hated it. It was all white and sort of fluffy with these little white pom-pom things all over it. Girly. But she wanted it and she usually got what she wanted. Even
if
it didn’t go with the ultra modern bathroom.
After I finished, I flushed the commode and remembered to put the toilet seat down. She wouldn’t notice. She’d only notice when I
didn’t
do it. I shook my head and smiled at the thought of her. She did that to me, made me smile. Especially after last night. Who wouldn’t smile?
I went to the sink and looked at my face in the mirror. My face looked haggard. Too many long hours. I still looked good, though. I thought so anyway. I flexed my arm and nodded with approval. Sandy loved my arms. Sometimes she’d stop beside me and run her hands over them and moan,
“
Ummm
, nice.”
Last night, after we were done, she sat in my lap and said, “You know I love you, don’t you?”
I had put my arms around her waist and said, “Of course, and I love you very much.”
Now I was feeling guilty. And for what? I hadn’t done anything. Not really. Just worked too much. Took her for granted a little. Nothing I couldn’t make up.
“Sandy?”
Nothing. Oh, well, if she wanted to get the morning started out with a fight she could do it on her own. I was in a good mood and planned on staying that way.
I took my toothbrush and toothpaste from the medicine cabinet and shut the door. I listened. I didn’t hear her.
Where was she?
I thought about it. She hadn’t mentioned any appointments. She didn’t work anymore.
Where was she?
Outside. She might be in her garden in the back. She insisted on growing vegetables every summer even though the soil wasn’t that rich at our house. I smiled.
Our house.
I liked saying that. Our house, the one I built and designed. It was modern and nice. She said sometimes she felt cold in it. I should have designed it for her and not myself, but we hadn’t even met when I’d started construction. She had said she liked the design. It was only after it was done and we’d moved in that she’d said the house was cold.
I started to brush my teeth. Ten years of marriage and I still thought of her whenever I did anything.
Even after it was done.
You’d think I’d get over it but I never would. I loved her too much. And that’s why I felt so guilty for working too many long hours and leaving her by herself at night. Sure we had the security system but you never know when a creep might make his move. Rumor had it that there was a peeping Tom in the neighborhood. When she’d heard about it, she’d laughed and said, “I better start walking around naked then.”
I chuckled. She was such a character. God, I loved that woman. I was going to buy her something nice. A pair of diamond earrings or something. Maybe a dog. She always said we needed a dog.
“Sandy?” I hollered as I spit the toothpaste out.
Nothing. Damn her anyway.
After I rinsed my mouth, I opened the medicine cabinet to put my toothbrush back and closed the door. What the…?
Wait a minute.
I flung it back open. The cabinet was almost empty. All that was in there was my stuff. My cologne, my shaving cream. My toothbrush.
No Sandy hairbrush or Sandy hairspray or special Sandy whitening toothpaste. No Sandy stuff.
I opened the drawers on the vanity. No Sandy hair dryer. No Sandy tampons. No Sandy perfume.
No Sandy.
“Sandy!”
I ran around the house yelling her name, then to the garden. She wasn’t there. I went back inside and looked in her closet. It had a slight feeling of being emptied even though the clothes that hung in there had been moved so it looked full. This happened occasionally when she cleaned it out and gave her old stuff to charity. But it would soon be full again, more full than it was before. She was a shopaholic.
I rummaged around her lingerie drawer and her best stuff, the stuff she wore every day, was gone. I pulled out the red push-up bra she had on last night. She hated this bra. She only wore it for me. She had told me as much. “It pinches me!” she’d squeal and raise her shirt and rub her breasts. Whenever she wore it, she’d flash me and I couldn’t handle it. I couldn’t keep my hands off her when she had it on. Her tits just looked so good in it.
Wonder why she didn’t take it with her?
Before I allowed the thought to settle in my mind, I pushed it away. Just before the thought turned to panic, I turned my mind to reason. Wait a minute. Wait one minute. One minute. She wasn’t gone. Was she gone? Had she left? What the hell had happened to her? Maybe she had just cleaned out her stuff again. Yeah. She had just cleaned her stuff out again and she would buy more and fill the drawers and closets back up. She was probably at the mall doing just that right now. She’d be back in a few hours with her arms loaded down with new stuff which she would model for me. “Like it?” she’d ask and turn. I would nod and smile at her. I liked her in anything, whether it was a fancy little black dress or a burlap sack. Didn’t matter. She looked good in anything. Especially when she didn’t have anything on.
I glanced over at the alarm clock. It was only nine. The mall wasn’t open yet.
I threw the bra back in and opened her t-shirt drawer. Same thing. The ones she wore most often were missing.
I went back through the house and glanced at the book shelf in the den. There was an empty space where her first edition, signed by Margaret Mitchell herself, copy of
Gone with the Wind
usually sat in its shrine. A special gift from me to her because I had done something stupid and then found a reason to yell at her about it, projecting my guilt. That book had taken me forever and day to find and a small fortune to purchase. But it had been worth it to see her squeal with delight when I gave it to her. Her favorite book in the whole wide world. Now gone. Just like her.