In a different situation, I might have gotten a good laugh over this particular conversation, but right now I’m fighting lust to a degree I’ve never experienced before. I’m almost shaking with it. I have to clench my hands into fists at my side. “I don’t… I’m afraid it isn’t smart.”
“And I’m tellin’ you it is.” He’s very close to me, but he hasn’t touched me yet. “The smartest thing you can do right now is let me fuck you real good.”
I gulp. “Are you… are you sure?”
He frowns. “Sure about what?”
“Sure that… that that’s all you want?”
Something odd happens to his face. Like a deep tension runs across it briefly and then disperses. “You think I don’t wanna fuck you, Annabelle? I spent years dreamin’ ’bout fuckin’ you. I don’t have ulterior motives or secret sappy fantasies. I’m not trying to force you into the shape of a person you’ll never be. I wanna fuck you. What the hell is wrong with that?”
“Nothing.” It’s like the valve holding back the tempest inside me is opened. I grab his shirt and drag him closer. “Nothing is wrong with that.”
He groans and pushes me against the exterior wall of the building. No one else is around. We’re blocked by the trees on this side. He leans down and claims my mouth, kissing me with a hot urgency that thrills me.
I kiss him back, every bit as eager. He doesn’t have his normal patience, and he has slid his hand inside my pants in less than a minute. He’s only barely found my clit when voices sound from not very far away from us.
We break apart just before Roderick and Vella come into sight around the corner.
“There she is,” Vella says with her normal smile.
I straighten my waistband and hope I don’t look rumpled or overly flushed. “Were you looking for me?”
But inside I’m cursing.
Because now I feel worse than ever.
That eveningafter dinner as a lot of us are gathered in the courtyard like normal, Ben is giving me looks across the fire.
I know what those looks mean.
And the truth is I’m not entirely opposed.
Maybe he was right earlier.
Maybe it’s my resistance that’s causing all this trouble rather than what felt like deepening intimacy.
I’m sitting on a bench near the front entrance of the building next to Chelle, who has been asking me for advice about dealing with unwanted admirers.
It’s probably as much an opportunity to bond with me as it is needing my counsel, but I don’t mind. Other than the one brief moment of resentment I had when she made a (perfectly understandable) move on Ben, I’ve always liked her.
And I deeply understand her worries about being an attractive woman in rough contexts, wanting to be respected rather than lusted over.
Had Ben accepted her advances, I would probably have felt differently, but he didn’t. I like Chelle, and I’m happy to chat with her.
After about fifteen minutes, we’re interrupted by a man named Gavin who is part of a group that joined us a few days ago. I don’t know him as more than a name, a face, and a particular guard position on the perimeter,but I smile up at him politely when he asks if I’ll talk to him.
He wants to change guard shifts. The one he’s been given starts in the wee hours of the morning, and he prefers a daytime shift.
“I can’t switch you right now. Shifts are assigned by both skill and seniority. You’ve done a good job so far, but so have a lot of others. After you’ve been with us a while, you’ll be able to choose a different shift.”
Gavin looks to be in his thirties with a large build and broad face. A lot of women probably find him attractive, but I don’t care for his blown-up physique, his bland expression, or his thick lips.
“I’m better than the guys you’ve got on the daytime shifts,” Gavin says. There’s a hint of a whine in his tone. One I recognize.
Ben hears it too. He gets up to move closer, remaining in the background of my conversation with Gavin but ready if necessary.
“I don’t doubt you’re good,” I tell him, holding on to my smile. “But as I just said, seniority is also a factor.”
