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“Tough is being a man even when the odds are stacked against you. It’s doing the right thing when the wrong thing is easier. Grow up. Get out of your shit and do better. Now go before I call the cops.”
I like his ire. I like his attention. I like his dark eyes narrowed in on me. I love the way I piss him off because that means I get a rise out of him, whether good or bad.
“I won’t look,” I tell him. “But I want to hear you. Please, Zax. I want to hear you come while you’re thinking about me.”
I want this man and I know he wants me. But I didn’t know it was like this. This caliber of desire. Of lust. Of fucking insanity where all you can think about is the other person.
His head dips down to whisper in my ear, “Now you know why I had to make myself come before I could see you. Incidentally, I’m keeping your underwear. And the pretty wet spot you left behind in them.”
If there’s one thing I learned today, it’s that lines in the sand are just like the sand you draw them in, malleable. Erasable. Far from finite. For every line I cross with Aurelia, I find myself clearing that out and drawing a new one. Scratch. Scribble. Repeat.
Her head swivels over her shoulder and she wrecks me with a beaming smile and a squeeze of my hand. This girl. This fucking girl.
“You’re not an except. You’re not a but. You’re not a however. You’re an addiction I don’t know how to claim or conquer.”
“I have never wanted anyone the way I want you, Aurelia, and that’s what’s hurting my soul.”
I have never felt as connected to anyone as I do to him. How simply, beautifully, irresistibly broken are the pair of us?
My heart all over the place as I pump into her body and claim it fully as my own. Her. This woman. My reckoning and my salvation.
I’ll never be done. I’ll never get enough. She has rewritten me.
