Does It Hurt?

by H.D. Carlton

“We’ll cross paths again, Sawyer. Life has a funny way of throwing people into your path when you’re meant to collide. It’s up to you to choose to make it permanent.”

He can locate the clit. Good enough for me.

And that perfect V that points directly to the weapon between his thighs.

I may carry ugliness inside of me, but he’s no fucking beauty queen, either.

“I'm taking the bed,” I announce after I’m done, forcing a grin and pouncing on the lumpy mattress. “Absolutely not,” he snaps, his head whipping toward me. “I am not sleeping on the floor,” I argue. He thins his eyes. “You think I will?” I cross my arms. “You're seriously not going to be a gentleman?” “That would imply there's a lady in the room, and all I see is a fucking leech.”

“Don’t ever think of yourself that way. And don’t ever think that I will, too. You’re so much more than the people who have hurt you.” My face twists, not believing that for a second. “I will make you see that,” he vows. “What happened to you does not define you. It only forged a new path that will take you to a different version of yourself.

I would take the worst of him if it meant I never had to go without him.

“I’ll get you to smile one of these days,” she murmurs. “Maybe you should do it one time before I die.” “You’re not dying.” “You sure? I think I hear Jesus talking to me.” “Then you’re definitely not dying. Jesus would never talk to you.” She snorts, then groans. “You’re right. Maybe it’s just your voice I’m hearing, and that’s my sign I’m going to Hell. You are the devil, after all.” If I’m the devil, she’s fucking Lilith.

“I’ve spent so much time running that I don’t remember why I’m living.”

“Lemme tell ya, women like that don’t come around often,” he remarks conversationally. “Tell me about it,” I mutter. Not every day you meet a girl that lures you between her thighs and then turns around and steals your fucking identity the next day. Nor is it every day the same girl drags you upward of a mile across the ocean to safety.

“A cactus,” he echoes. “Why a cactus?” I shrug. “They’re strong and resilient, and survive under extreme conditions.”