The Glue

by K. Webster

“We’re broken,” I whisper. His other hand finds the side of my neck and he cradles me as though I’m precious. A choked sob rattles from me. “We’re not broken,” he assures me despite the way his voice trembles. “We’re just cracked. All we need is a little glue. We’ll be good as new.”

Something tells me you can’t dip your toes in with a man like Vaughn Young. You’ll drown. He’s deep.

I’m going to fuck this man. Or, he’s going to fuck me. Someone is getting fucked.

“I’m going to kiss you,” he tells me, his smug tone making my stomach flop. “You can’t,” I breathe. “I’m married.” He smirks. “No one said you had to kiss back.”

The Lord preaches love. Unconditional love at that. How are people supposed to love unconditionally if they are judging others for whom they love? They can’t. So love is love and that’s what God wants.”

“I think about being inside you while you’re inside her,” I hiss out. “I think about watching you fuck her. I think about her watching me fuck you. I think about your big cock stretching out her tight ass while she rides me. I think about a lot.”

“So he’s just something to hold you together.” I lift my gaze from my tumbler to stare him right in his eyes. “He’s not something to us. He’s everything.”

He never wanted to fix me. He just wanted to hold all the broken parts of me so I wouldn’t lose myself.

“God gives you miracles each day. What you do with them is up to you.” And Aiden is our miracle.