his thumb hooking forward,
dragging up the middle of my soaked panties.
“No half-volume. No half-feeling.”
I flinch, not expecting to hear him say those words again.
And just like the first time, I’m gone.
His eyes are locked on mine?—
wide, wild,
black bleeding through the navy?—
like he can’t see anything but me.
I can do this.
I can give him the fantasy,
the kind they say he gives everyone else.
The lie that tastes like the truth.
Only for tonight.
Then I’ll leave before he does.
Before it hurts.
He’s waiting on his knee,
his next breath depends
on what I do or say next.
I lift my foot,
planting it on the speaker beside me,
spreading my legs for him,
my dress climbing with it.
The cool air slides between my damp thighs.
His gaze follows the same path,
landing on my covered pussy.
He lingers there,
an exhale ripping through him?—
jagged, gutted.
Then his eyes crawl back up to mine?—
