“Dammit,” I say, my voice raw. I lean back, shove her skirt out of the way, grab her shirt, her bra, drag them up, jerk my cock, and shoot—across her belly, her tits. Probably as far as her face.
I want to see it. I crave it. Hot, white ribbons of come marking her as mine. Savage grunts tear from my lungs, wrack my body, my stiff arm, my tightly clasped fist. One final stroke wrings the last drop of my load and I’m done. Wiped.
It takes ages for me to come down. When I do, my legs are screaming, my ass aching from where the roots dug into muscle. Shit, my back’s already so stiff I don’t know how the hell I’ll stand.
First, though, I roll onto my side, dragging her over me. She’s a rag doll, her weight just right on my chest, in my arms. I set my chin on her head and breathe in the sweat and musk of sex, the lingering scent of shampoo that tickles my senses. My memory.
This woman feels like mine.
I want to care for her. Want to hold her, take her home, feed her, give her a bath. Fuck, I want to ease all the pain she’s ever felt. Before, now, after.
I shake my head, trying to see something. Her, if I can, though that’s wrong.
It isn’t how this goes.
Slowly, she shifts, lifts up and looks down, although I can’t imagine she can see a thing. “Hi.”
I let my hand rub her back, knowing it’ll just be harder to let go. “Hey.”
“That was…” I picture a face above mine, blinking. The face I see is that woman from the shower. It’s fucked up. I know. It’s dangerous to assign anything real to this.
With a low laugh, she collapses, which is good. Good that I can stop overlapping a different reality to this stark one.
After a second, she stops shaking.
“You okay?” I pat her back. That should get things moving.
She nods, then breathes in so deeply her belly presses to mine. “Yeah. You?”
I don’t know why it surprises me that she’s asked. Everything she’s done so far is…what I’d do, I guess. Fuck, what is that? She’s like holding up a mirror to my face, only better. Like one of those goddamn social media filters Lamé loves so much.
“I’m…” I think about minimizing it, then roll straight into the truth. “Destroyed.”Ruined for anyone else. For always.
“Yeah. I should go, right?”
No. No, God. I sniff.
“You were…that was…”
“What?” I can’t help asking. I’m a weak human, after all.
“Is transcendent a word? That seems like a word.”
“It is,” I say, my throat tight and weird and fucked from the inside. “It is.”
* * *
Grace
I kiss him one last time. It hurts. The way too much sugar hurts your teeth and leaves bumps on your tongue.
I get up. My feet are numb, my knees a wobbly mess. I can’t stand the idea of saying goodbye. I can’t stand it being over.
He sits up, but I make him stay there, his body rooted to the ground when I leave, strong enough to hold me, break me, put me back together.
He’s done it all in one night and, as I stumble back towards the light, I’m not sure I’ll survive.
I will, I guess. I’ve gone through worse.
