by Mia Asher
I’m thinking that she’s going to tell me to go fuck myself when she looks up.
“Let’s go then.”
After we get in the cab and I give my address to the cab driver, she reaches for my hand. She leans her head back on the leather seat and turns to face me, her features made indistinguishable by the darkness surrounding us.
“I’ve never done something like this before.”
I squeeze her hand. “Me neither. Are you afraid?”
She nods.
“We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to. We can go back, go on our separate ways, and pretend like this never happened.”
Waiting for her answer, I watch the lights coming from outside dance with the shadows of the night on her body as we speed through the streets of Manhattan.
“It isn’t that. It’s just …”
“Yes?”
“I’m afraid of what you make me want.”
“And what’s that?”
“To feel,” she says, her words barely a whisper.
I smile ruefully, lift her hand, and kiss it. “That’s exactly what I don’t want.” What I’m running away from.
TONIGHT’S FUCK ISN’T ABOUT connecting with someone. Tonight’s fuck is about seeking an emotional stupor, where I can lose myself in her body and stop living in the hell that mine has become. It’s about reaching that point when I’m buried in her pussy, my cock surrounded by her warmth, pounding away my feelings for another woman in her. Where there are no emotions, no memories, no expectations—nothing. Just pure, unadulterated, and selfish ecstasy.
Beyond the few sentences we shared on the ride here, we haven’t said anything. It isn’t like there is no need for words—there is—but not of anything that is relevant to what we are about to do. Besides, the silence allows each of us to battle our own ghosts. I turn to look at her and take in the rich color of her blonde hair that looks as though it were spun out of pure gold, the two small laugh lines shaped like the curved brackets of a parenthesis that imprison her mouth, and the way she holds herself so upright. She reminds me of a soldier about to face his enemy. The only sign that betrays her cool and unperturbed exterior is her damp palm in mine. Or maybe it’s mine.
Standing outside my apartment, I turn to look at her. “Last chance to change your mind,” I say.
“Why do I get the feeling that you’re trying to get me to change mine?” She glances in my direction, our gazes connecting briefly before she goes back to stare straight ahead. “Or maybe you’re afraid that I’m—”
I pin her against the wall, my front crushing hers. “I’m not afraid. I just want to make sure that you won’t change your mind, because once we walk past those doors”—I nod in the direction of my apartment—“I will fuck you. And you will love every single second that I’m inside you, fucking your pussy. Over … and … over … again.” Until I numb myself and forget that I can’t have her. “Do you hear me?”
Maybe I’m being purposely cruel to her because deep down a part of me is afraid. Afraid of having this woman erase the last traces of Blaire lingering in my apartment, in my body, and in my soul.
“So I’m going to ask you one last time. Are you sure you want to do this?”
“Shhh… Don’t say another word.” She cups my face with her hands and brings our mouths so close I can feel the whisper of her breath hitting my lips. “I’m here because I want you. Nothing else. Nothing more.”
Without saying another word, I push myself away from her and head to my door. I open it for her and watch her go in, her shoulder brushing my chest as she walks past me. When she’s inside, I bolt the lock and turn to face her.
She browses my small, messy apartment without touching a single item.
I rub the back of my neck. “I have to say that I’m surprised that you’re still here after what just happened.”
Without looking at me, she says, “Me too. Honestly, I’m surprised that I even left with you in the first place. Throwing caution to the wind and going to a stranger’s apartment aren’t things I’m known for—quite the opposite, actually.”
Her voice is soothing and calm, and I find that I enjoy listening to her talk. I lean my back on the door, my shoulders touching the flat surface, and cross my arms. “What are you known for?” I ask, curious about the woman standing in front of me. “You seem the type of person who never breaks rules. Am I close?”
She laughs, but it’s an empty sound. “Oh, I don’t know… I was groomed to be the perfect child and later on, the perfect wife. And I was taught that impulsiveness is an emotion that only the weak give into.”
“Yet here you are.”
“Yes, here I am.”
“Are you married?” I look at her hand and notice the lack of a wedding band and wedding ring.
“Recently divorced. I’d like to drop the subject now.”
I nod in acquiescence. It’s odd to see a woman standing amongst my furniture and belongings once again. Elegant and aloof, she seems out of place surrounded by my shit. Turning left and right, she takes in the old leather of my second-hand couch, the paperbacks scattered like freckles on the wooden floor, and the small kitchen to the right serving as both the dining room and laundry room.
“Sorry about the mess. I wasn’t expecting guests.”
I watch her focus her attention on an item lying on the wooden coffee table. She bends down and retrieves the worn out picture—one that I haven’t been able to throw away. I don’t have to look at it to know that the colors of her face have begun to fade, nor do I have to look to know the difference between the man in the photograph and me.
Her finger traces the spot my own have memorized. “She’s gorgeous.”
I rub my chest. How can something hollow suddenly hurt so much? “She is.”
“What happened?”
I stare at the picture in her hands. “I fell in love with her.”
And suddenly I’m hit in the face with memories of her…
The sun was setting as we lay on the grass, its rays pint-sized torches that warmed our bodies and bathed our surroundings in amber light. The air, sweet because it smelled like her, caressed our skin. I remember she turned in my direction and looked at me with her sapphire eyes, and in that one look we exchanged an unspoken truth that she was too scared to admit and I was too eager to believe.
“Don’t move. I need to take a picture of you just like that.”
She laughed but let me do it, anyway. After I’d put my camera on the blanket next to me, I turned toward her and cupped her face, my thumb tracing the curve of her cheek. “He stepped down, trying not to look long at her, as if she were the sun, yet he saw her, like the sun, even without looking.”
She smiled slowly. “Trying to seduce a girl with Tolstoy, huh?”
“Depends. Is it working?”
She stared at me, amusement sparkling in her eyes. “You have no fucking idea.” We laughed freely but, after a moment had passed, she added quietly in that husky voice of hers, “Are you really here?” She reached for my hand, brought it to her lips, and placed a kiss so soft I could have imagined it. But I didn’t. The heat, the electricity of her touch was flowing through my veins, slowly awakening my body and senses. And I had never felt more fucking alive.
I moved closer to her and propped myself up on my elbow, feeling the feathery grass blades tickle my skin. In this position, I was able to absorb the way the wild wisps of her black hair framed her face, enhancing the delicate blush spreading across her cheeks, and the color of her apple red lips.
“I am,” I murmured.
“It all just feels like a dream … one that I never want to end.” There was fear in her voice and sadness muting the light in her gaze.
“I’m very real, Blaire,” I whispered before biting her earlobe. “And I’m not going anywhere. You’re stuck with me.”
“But for how long?” she asked, and there it was again. Fear lingering in her voice, in her words.
“For as long as yo
u let me, baby.”
“Forever?”
“Forever wouldn’t be long enough.” I leaned down, closing the space between us, and felt her body tremble in mine. I kissed the tip of her nose, her eyes, the curve of her neck, her mouth …
I kissed her deep and never ending. I kissed her until she was completely and utterly branded by me—her flavor memorized on my tongue. When we pulled apart, Blaire smiled at me and I thought life couldn’t get better than this.
“What is it?”
“I’m not a complicated man, Blaire. I don’t need expensive things to be happy or to validate my own worth. And for a long time, I thought my life was good, you know? I had good health, a roof over my head, food on the table. Did I ever think that things could be better? Maybe, but it wasn’t something that I dwelt on. I was happy with my lot in life. But I think, deep down, I knew something was missing and I just didn’t know what it was. Until I met you.”
“Ronan …”
“No, hear me out. I know how this sounds, and maybe it is crazy, but for the first time in a very long time, I feel like I’m awake. My life isn’t a blur anymore. No more going through the motions for me, and it’s all because of you.” I paused and stole another kiss. “Fuck it. Run away with me. Let’s get married, for real. Today. Be mine and only mine.”
Blaire giggled. “You’re insane! We can’t do that. Besides, you know that I’m yours.”
“But are you really?”
She was silent for a moment. “What do you want, Ronan?”
To be your oxygen, Blaire, as you’ve become mine. Like you said—forever. And one day I’m going to get you to say yes.”
There were tears in her eyes as she stared at me. “Oh, really?” she asked, her voice trembling.
“Yep.” I cupped her face once more and felt a runaway tear land on my thumb. “I will never give you up, you know?”
She remained silent then because she knew it was all a lie, every word, every look, and every touch. All fucking lies. And the biggest joke was that I fell in love with her—the most beautiful lie of all. Her kisses were deceit that tasted like the sweetest venom, her laugh a lure to my demise, and her body the damn devil’s playground.
But then again love is a dirty, bloody, messy game. Love doesn’t give a fuck about rules or honesty. And as much as love can make one feel alive and want to change for the better, it can also kill you and, with it, your dreams. All in the blink of an eye.
“And what happened?” I hear the woman ask, bringing me back to reality, her face and blonde hair replacing that of Blaire’s.
What usually happens when you forget your place in the world and dare to dream. “She broke my heart.”
I take the few steps separating us until I’m standing not even a foot away from her. I raise my hand and caress the side of her face with the back of my fingers. She closes her eyes and leans in toward my touch. Then I grip her chin, tilting it up as I lower my mouth. When my lips touch hers, she closes her eyes and gives in to the kiss. I don’t. I can’t. And I fucking hate myself for it because even though I’m kissing this woman, it’s Blaire who I taste.
With the kiss coming to an end, I say, “Undress now.”
She seems unsure for the first time since we met. “I’m not young and beautiful like her.”
Her words do something to me. They don’t touch a chord inside me, or move me—that’s impossible. Maybe if I had met her in another life, one where I was whole again. But they make me want to show her what I see. Her beauty. A beauty that becomes increasingly more obvious with every second that passes by.
I let go of her and move to stand behind her. Without touching her, I lean into her, and say, “You are beautiful. Let me see you. All of you.”
She takes a shuddering breath and steps away. Turning to face me, I watch her slowly reach for the spaghetti straps resting on her skin, pushing them off her shoulders one by one. The sight of her undressing for me is more than erotic. It’s downright intoxicating. The silk slides down her toned body as softly as running water, revealing gentle curves, small but perfect tits, and a smooth, sweet cunt. My hands itch to explore it all. I want the warmth of her skin to seep into mine, warming me even if it’s only for a brief moment in time.
Nervous and hesitant, she covers herself with her arms.
“No, don’t hide from me.” I peel her hands away from her body. “You’re magnificent.”
“You’re being polite. I saw her picture. I know what you’re used to. And I can tell you right now that I look nothing like her.”
“Yes, you’re right. You look nothing like her, but I still want you.”
I watch her blush, and the color is so lovely on her skin, it makes me want to put it there again. My cock hardens, agreeing with me. I bridge the space between us until my chest is touching the tip of her tits. Her nipples harden, her breathing short and fast.
“And why shouldn’t I? You’re beautiful, desirable, and so fucking sexy.” My hand caresses her skin, starting from the curve of her shoulder to the gentle curve of her tit down to her stomach. “I want to trace my tongue along each curve and orifice of you.” I grab her hair, pull it to the side, exposing her neck, and lean down to kiss it, feeling her pulse under my mouth.
“Savoring the taste of your sweat, of your desire, of the secrets your body has to offer.” I straighten and place my hands on her hips, curling my fingers in her flesh, as I pull her flush against me.
Her eyes widen, showing me how dilated her pupils are. She licks her lips. “I want you, too.”
I cradle the back of her neck as we begin to kiss desperately. There’s no room for air. No room for thoughts. There’s no room for anything other than my lips on her, my hands on her skin. I breathe her in, letting her fill my lungs with her scent, drugging me with the smell of lust and want. I seek oblivion in her warm, inviting body.
My need isn’t for her.
My need is not to feel. To stifle the beating of my heart.
I break away and kiss her from her mouth to her neck, and all the way down to her tits, my tongue flicking her nipples, savoring the taste of her sweat. My teeth sink into her skin, making her cry out. Her pain is my pleasure. Her blood sates my thirst. She reaches for my hair, pulling me back up. Face to face, we kiss again but, this time, it’s her teeth that search to draw my blood and her nails digging painfully into my skin. It’s fucking beautiful.
I grab her hand and bring it to my erection, making her rub my cock over my jeans. “Now sit down. I’m going to fuck your mouth.”
She sits down on the couch as I unbuckle my leather belt, unzip my pants, and pull out my cock, pumping it in front of her face. I step closer, watching the tip of my cock tracing her lips.
“Open.”
I slide it all the way in and then grab her head with my two hands and push her closer to me, feeling her suck me greedily as I pump in and out of her, fucking that sweet mouth of hers. Fast. Mercilessly. The pace is punishing but she doesn’t stop me.
Groaning, I pull out my cock that glistens with her saliva. I watch her wipe her mouth and chin. “Turn around and kneel on the couch. I’m going to fuck you now.”
She follows my instructions instinctively, but before she turns, I see the hunger in her eyes, too. She wants this as much as me. Kneeling behind her, I grab a condom out of my wallet. After ripping it open and rolling it on my dick, I take her by the hips and pull her ass out toward me. With my cock in hand, I spread her cheeks, slowly caressing her asshole and cunt, coating it with her wetness. “Jesus, you’re so fucking wet already.”
She pushes back against my dick, wanting it, begging for it. I fist her hair and pull her head back. “I like you like this. At my mercy.” I lean down and hiss in her ear, “Want me to fuck you like this, huh?”
Her head next to mine, the back of it touching my shoulder, I can see her fragile, beautiful neck and smell the aroma of her sweat mixed with perfume. I lean in and run my nose along the edge, feeling her tremble.
/> She nods and I push her forward aggressively, making her land on her hands, spreading her ass with my hands, admiring what I’m about to take.
“Such a pretty pussy.”
I lick two of my fingers and run them over her clit, pressing them deep inside of her. She shudders as I finger fuck her from behind. The wet sound of my hand moving in and out her fills the room, and it’s driving me mad. She grips the leather, her nails leaving indentations as the speed of my hand increases, as I take out my anger, my frustration, my need, my yearning on her body. I’m a selfish bastard for doing so, but I can’t stop. I need this as much as I need my next breath.
I hate you, Blaire.
I fucking hate you.
I pull my fingers out of her, push myself closer, and grab her by the hip. Pumping my cock before I enter her in one swift, deep thrust. I fuck her as though I am looking for my salvation and my solace in her cunt.
It doesn’t work.
I close my eyes, and it’s Blaire I see, glancing back as I enter her from behind, smiling, taunting me with her smile. And the harder my cock enters this woman with the blonde hair, the louder Blaire’s laughter fills my ears.
I shake my head, feeling the sweat beads crawling down my skin like the legs of a spider, trying to force her out of my mind, but it doesn’t work. Nothing works. I look up and see our reflection in the window facing the street. Our eyes meet on the glass, her beauty mirrored on the flat surface, but I’m so fucking gone, so fucking numb, it makes me feel nothing. Letting go of one of her shoulders, I bring my other hand around to rub her clit with my thumb. Fast. Faster.
She’s moaning, telling me not to stop, and I can feel both of our orgasms hovering within reach when my house phone begins to ring. Not caring who is calling, I let the voice message pick up.
It’s her.
Haunting me. Fucking with me.
Her voice fills the small space of my apartment as I continue to bury my cock in another woman over and over again.
“Hi … It’s me … I know it’s late, but I couldn’t sleep.”
My jaw tense, I close my eyes and thrust forward again, rubbing her, pounding harder and faster each time.