The Lonely (31 page)

He
opens the car door wide again and shoves me in. I'm panting as he closes the
door and walks around. He starts the car and puts it into drive.
"I'm tired of your running away. We are finishing this goddamned
conversation before I explode and kill someone." He's angry. Vicious. I've
never been more attracted to him.

He
pulls into underground parking. We have sat in the awkward silence for the
entire drive.

He
parks and gets out. He flings open my door and drags me out of the car. He's
not speaking. I don’t know what to think but I like the determination in his
eyes.

He
presses the elevator button with savagery, like I do, like he too is scared of
whatever is behind us. The second we're inside and the door is closed, I jump
him. I wrap my arms around him and kiss him like I'm trying to kill him. When
we get to his floor, he carries me to the door to the penthouse. He fumbles
with the key. I laugh into his mouth as he curses.

He
flings open the door, slamming it into the wall. He grabs the door and slams it
shut. He drops me to my feet and looks at me.

I'm
breathing heavily. He pulls his sweater off. His muscles are pronounced and
trembling. I reach out and run my fingers down the front of him. There is a
small amount of hair on his chest.

The
silence isn’t awkward anymore. It's full of sexual tension. He grabs my hand
and places it over his beating heart and holds it there. It's like he's giving
it to me maybe. I pull off my shirt and do the same with his hand over my
sports bra. I want it to be him in my heart. My gesture might not mean the same
to him but it means a lot to me.

He
pulls me in, pressing our chests together. He bends and kisses my neck. His body
is exploding with heat. He pulls me to the bedroom I was always running from.
He shoves me back on the bed and reaches down for my yoga pants, pulling them
off.

I
grimace at my granny panties. They're comfier for boxing. He smiles when he
sees them. He undoes his pants and pulls them off as I pull my sports bra over
my head, with the usual amount of difficulty. It isn’t sexy. It's horrible and
almost dislocates my shoulder every time.

He
bends and licks up my calf. I shudder and lie back. He's rubbing up my legs
softly, kneading and massaging and licking and kissing. I start to get lost in
it. Lightly, his fingers brush my soft cotton underwear.

I
gasp.

The
anticipation and delicate touches are worse than anything I've ever
experienced. He drags his fingers up and down my underwear. I'm slowly
spreading my legs, begging him to just touch me, just let me out of my misery.

His
finger loops into the middle of the underwear and brushes up and down my lips.
He doesn't talk but I hear a packet. A condom. I'm grateful he's in control
enough to make a smart choice.

He
kisses the sides of my thigh, softly. I'm clutching the blankets. He drags my
underwear down with his looped finger. I help him and kick them off. He slides
up my thighs again. He's trying to kill me I think.

Before
I know what to expect, warmth drags up and down my slit. I cry out, before I
can stop myself. The warmth of his mouth crashes onto me. He sucks my clit,
making me jerk and grab at the bed.

He
licks and sucks slowly. I feel one of his huge fingers touch me. He pushes it
in slowly, just dipping it in a couple times. It's enough. It's all I need. He
sucks my clit and I orgasm. He feels me tighten and pumps his fingers in and
out of me.

I'm
in a frenzy. He slides his fingers out and I feel him moving around. I shiver
when I feel the warmth of his mouth hovering over my nipple. He rubs his
erection up and down my slit.

As
he delicately pushes himself inside of me, his mouth crashes onto my nipple. He
sucks and pushes and I'm lost. It's slow and intense. Everything he does is
like he's paying homage to my body. Worshipping at the temple that is me. His
hands caress my arms, his kisses land on my neck and chest. When his mouth
meets my face I'm hungry for his kisses. His strokes inside of me are still
slow and methodical. He makes complete strokes, fully in and out. I'm moving
against him, trying to make the pace quicken. Deep down, I know it's that I
want him to take me. Fuck me. I want him wild and out of control. I want to
feel the freedom I get from the loss of everything.

But
he isn’t. He's in control.

I'm
opening my legs, wrapping them around him, but he maintains his control. I
don’t look at him. I can't. He's seeing me exposed. He's seeing the need I am
exposing myself to.

His
body is fully sliding against mine. His hands are gripping me, holding me. It's
sweet and soft.

"Fuck
me." I whisper. It's desperate. I have a need.

"I
am." He says softly.

I
open my eyes, "Hard."

He
sits up and lifts my legs in the air and pounds me.

"Like
this? You want this? Goddamn. You feel so good." I like it when he talks.

His
body slamming into mine is ecstasy. I get lost in the thrusts and the pressure.
He bends forward, pushing my legs almost to my head. His thrusts are slapping
his body against mine. I orgasm a second time forcing his orgasm. He cries out
into my legs and finishes. He unravels my legs and collapses onto me. I grunt
with the exhale as he does.

"Am
I squishing you?" He asks.

I
lick my lips, "In a good way."

"Holy
shit, Sarah." He's breathing in my hair.

I
laugh, "Yeah."

"I
think I almost had a heart attack."

I
laugh again. He pulls out and climbs off of me. "I'm not even kidding.
That was maniacal and I feel like I used you."

I
grin at him, "I used you back. Don’t worry."

He
shakes his head, "You're different than I ever imagined you would be. In
every way." He tosses the condom in the garbage and pulls on his boxers
and collapses next to me, bouncing on the bed slightly. "From the girl I
met in the gym, to the girl who had the attack at Chicken Lou's, to the girl
who threw up in my garbage can, to this. You have come so far. That therapy
really worked."

I
shiver and crawl under the blankets. "I don’t want to talk about it."

He
blushes, "Sorry. You're just surprising me. In a good way." He traces
his fingers up and down my arm. "What should we do now birthday girl? God
you're so beautiful."

I
shrug. Mostly out of discomfort. Why is he talking and touching so much.

He
makes a face, like he's inspired and stands up, "Be right back."

He
leaves the bedroom. I wrap the blankets tightly around me and fight the
feelings away. I have no one to talk to. I have to swallow the feelings and
forget them. I tell myself they're just leftovers.

He
comes back in after a minute and crawls into the blankets with me.

"You
know I was thinking, why don’t we go somewhere this week?"

I
frown, "What?"

"Well,
I have a job going on in Los Angeles. I need to go there this weekend. You
could come with me."

I
look at him and hate myself, "No. I need to train and I have school."

He
kisses my cheek, "Okay. I won't push it. It took almost the whole damned
year to get you to here. We can take it slowly." I press my face into his
cheek.

He
strokes my hair out of my face, "How's the whole semester looking?"

I
grimace, "Bad. I think I'm failing creative writing. Not good for a
journalism wanna be."

He
laughs, "How the hell do you fail creative writing?"

I
move my head to look at him with daggers in my eyes,
 
"It's harder than you think smarty pants. The prof
hates me. She wants us to rewrite everything a minimum of fifty times. Which I
think is insane. It's poetry. It's the fruit of the moment. You know?"

His
eyes sparkle and look greener than I've ever seen them, "I do not."

I
laugh and shove him, "A poem is based on the emotions you have at that
moment. If you rewrite them then you're taking away the raw emotion you were
having and replace it with something that’s not authentic to that moment."

His
eyes widen, "Well, well. Look who is deeper than a puddle."

I
open my mouth in offense, "Hurtful."

He
rolls his eyes, "You never let me in."

A
buzzer interrupts my pout. He jumps up, dragging on his pants and running from
the room.

I
sit up and wait. He comes back after a couple minutes with two trays. He places
them down. They are silver trays with steaming pancakes, sausage, bacon, eggs
and fruit and coffee in to go cups. I smile. On one plate the pancakes have
"Happy Birthday Sarah" written on them. I sit back on the bed and
pull the covers up to cover myself. He places the tray down, "I figured
since you didn’t want to go to breakfast, we could just have it here."

I
smile at him, "Thank you. You're so sweet."

He
grins and climbs on the bed to eat his, "I don’t feel sweet after
earlier." I roll my eyes. He gets my hint that I don’t want to discuss
it…ever.

"Can
we do dinner tonight though?"

I
shake my head, "I can't. I have to go meet my real parents tonight. It was
my goal for my twentieth birthday. I need this."

He
looks worried, "Who's going with you?"

I
eat my bite and fight the fact my appetite is going quickly, "Shell. I
just want her there."

He
nods but I can see the look in his eyes. "She's like my security blanket
from childhood, you know?"

"How
did you two meet?"

I
shove the memory down and shake my head. I push away the food and give myself a
minute.

"You
okay?"

I
take a breath, "Just a sec." Sometimes memories make me feel dirty.

I
lower my heart rate with breaths and being grateful.

I
open my eyes and look at the breakfast again. "We were at the pool. The
orphans were allowed to go swimming. These means girls from the town bullied
me. They were making fun of me for my haircut and my old faded bathing suit. So
I ran away and hid in a corner. I had a thing for corners."

I
could cry from the shame that's still there, but I don’t. I just talk quietly,
"Shell just came up and sat beside me. She was so pretty. Her bathing suit
was new, bright green with black polka dots. She looked like a dark-haired
Barbie. She asked me random questions and didn’t care that I didn’t want to
answer them. She forced me to be her friend. Then this girl came over and was
making fun of me, calling me a lesbian. I sat there, calm and quiet. I wouldn’t
cry for anyone. Shell stood up and punched her in the face. The girl ran off
crying and told the nuns that I hit her."

"Oh
my god."

I
nod once, "They came to get mad at me and make me go back to the bus. But
Shell went and got her mom who went all crazy Italian on the nuns. She said, if
her daughter said she hit the little bitches, then she did it and not me. Then
she yelled that they deserved it for calling me a lesbian. The nuns were
pissed. The other girls got thrown out of the pool. She was the first person
who ever stood up for me." But my brain points out the lie in the
statement. "Besides Eli."

He
grabs my hands, "I'm sorry I made you remember that."

I
shake my head, "No. It's not a bad memory. It's good. I need to focus on
the good part of it. A girl, who was popular and well liked, picked me. She has
always picked me."

He
tries to make himself smile but he can't. "It was all so hard wasn’t it?
Every minute?"

I
look at him, "No. Nothing is ever all bad. I had amazing moments."

He
looks confused, "Between the bullying and beatings and mean nuns and hand
washing and OCD and anxiety?"

I
see myself in his eyes for a second and feel a little bit sorry for myself, but
my brain shuts it down fast. "I could have died like Emalyn."

He
nods once and pushes his breakfast away, "That’s very true."

I
cross the grounds holding her hand.
You slept with him?"

I
nod, "I feel horrible. Like a slut. I actually thought about Eli, which is
so gross."

She
nudges me, "He's not the kind of guy you forget easily. Dirty talking, bum
spanking, panty stealing, bad boys are hard to come by."

I
laugh, it's nervous. Seeing the SUV is making me nervous."

"Did
you blow the crazies off?"

I
shake my head, "I think they're worse. I feel sick and gross and I miss Eli,
but I'm terrified he's going to know I did it."

She
snorts, "Girl, please. That man probably already knows. I swear he has you
GPS'd."