Die, My Love

by Penelope Fletcher

  Sex is, well, sex. It’s fun, feels good, and leaves you feeling amorous and relaxed. There is nothing bad about it, in the right circumstances. I enjoy the intimacy of watching, but I will never touch, or expect to be touched. So as Ben grips my shoulder, I flinch, embarrassed he’s watching me get off, and lash out in irritation. I glare at him, my expression hard because I do not want to be touched right now.

  I look back to the gyrating hips and plunging shaft. I swallow, look away, and place a hand over my thundering heart. I hear them both moan. The booth seats bounce under the pressure of their thrusts. Right. This might be getting too much for me to handle. I think I’m drowning in the harsh reality of my own Sea of Naughty Wishes.

  Ben wraps his hand around my wrist and pulls me across the seat into him. He jerks me so vigorously my butt makes a whoosh sound on the seat. He picks me up and settles me between his legs, giving a breathy snort of satisfaction.

  I blush, dip my head down to consider if I’m going to try and make a run for it. Will he chase me? A smile curves my lips even as my heart speeds up. Okay, I’m back in this thing. I believe I will always stay if it’s what Ben wants.

  One of his legs is up on the booth seat, his other bent at the knee, foot to the floor. He leans forward until his front presses against my back. Oooh, I like what I feel. Hardness. Ben is broad shouldered with a narrow waist, but his build is powerful enough to make a rather well proportioned girl like me feel feminine. His thighs are spectacular too; squeezing me gently as I slot between them like I was meant to be there. His chin rests on my shoulder with a sigh and his hands rub my stomach in a slow, comforting manner. I glower at his obvious attempt to settle me down like a jittery colt.

  The music changes. Bat for Lashes’ sultry voice peals from the speakers and I wriggle, feeling the music seep into my blood and create a heady simmer of passion. My attention turns back to the couple. Their movements are jerky, frantic. The position I’m in and the height of the booth allow me to watch as Jake’s thickness slips in and out of Lily.

  I huff, my cheeks puffing. All too quickly, this is surreal, boring. All I think about is Ben biting me and loving me. The hands at my waist twitch, moving up to rest on my upper torso, thumbs grazing the under-swell of my breasts. Spurred by his reaction, I imagine it again. Ben biting me, and sinking fang and flesh into me to experience pleasure like he has never known.

  Groaning softly, he licks my neck and I rock back. Ben’s hands slide down to a more innocent position on my waist, one resting low on my stomach. He moves it lower and I tilt my hips, needing him to touch me. His hand moves away from the centre of my heat and his fingers hook under the edge of my camisole pulling it up as the heel of his palm lazily slides across my stomach.

  Huh, he’s just fooling around.

  His other hand slips past the unbuttoned waist of my jeans and into my panties to stroke me gently. I inhale sharply with a hiss, snatch my last thought back, and twist my torso to look him in the eyes.

  The hand on my stomach blurs into movement and grips my chin, yanking my head back round. Ben growls low in my ear, a warning, and it sends shivers down my spine. My nails scratch over the denim hugging his thighs, my knees wobble, and my lips tingle.

  Oh Lee, wrong reaction to have. However, at this point why are you surprised at your body’s reaction to him?

  ‘Watch,’ he thinks to me softly.

  The grip on my face becomes a loving caress that trails down to the nape of my neck. My hair is brushed over my shoulders to fall forward. His lips replace his hand.

  “Ben,” I murmur, because I have to say something, and his name sounds good to my ears.

  He holds me tighter as I grind against his groin. So close. He continues to stroke me, testing how far he can make my back arch when he applies more pressure. I moan and that elicits a deep rumble of satisfaction from Ben and a breathy squeal from Lily opposite me.

  Who, what, where now?

  I open my eyes to see her staring at me.

  She has turned around and is being taken from behind, whimpering, eyes locked on Ben’s hands caressing me. They’ve been watching me? I suck in a breath and my attention drifts to Jake thrusting himself into her. His gaze is focused on my face, he’s getting hot off my expressions as I react to Ben. How mortifying, I didn’t notice. My eyelids flutter closed, but Ben nips my neck, and they open wide instead.

  ‘Do not make me have to tell you again,’ he reminds playfully, but with a seriousness that makes me gulp. ‘Watch.’

  I’m tempted to disobey and see what he will do with or to me. Almost. As it is, any change in seating will mean I won’t have his hard on pressing into my lower back, one hand palming my nipple, and the other … oh … the other sliding deep inside me and curving.

  I lick my lips and lock eyes with Jake. He welcomes me back with a half smile, and a renewal of thrusts. It might be a fun game to see who can stare the other down as our bodies struggle under such pleasurable strain, but oh, he’s too far along. With forceful pumps that shunt Lily halfway across the table on her hands and knees, he stiffens. The tendons in his arms and neck pop as he opens his mouth and cries out. Lily comes in unison, her cheeks going from pink to crimson, her gaze still on Ben’s hand inside my jeans. They convulse around each other then groan into each other mouths as he pulls her up by the hair and they kiss passionately.

  My own release tumbles forward; ready to claim me. Nipples hard and hips jerking of their own accord, the pleasure controlled by Ben bottoms out leaving me hanging in dead space. My body tenses, everything contracts, holds, lusciously tight.

  Ben’s fangs graze my neck and plunging them into my throat he commands, ‘Come.’

  The explosion of my orgasm slams us both back into the booth, but Ben keeps his hold on me, tightens it. I clamp my mouth shut to stop myself crying out. My body spasms and my nails dig into his upper thighs. I let my head rest beside his. So much emotion crashes over me my body doesn’t know what to do with it. A tear rolls from the corner of my eye into my hair and I drag in a breath, and another to clear my head so I’m able to unlock my body. I rub myself into him, hips bucking, as I ride the crashing wave of pleasure that is sweetly depraved and never-ending.

  Ben does not drink; he lets his mouth rest on my neck, lips pressing firmly, before his fangs let me go and it’s just a kiss.

  Oh, I’m drifting away. I feel enfolded by Ben, by what he feels. In the darkness, I sense he is scared of me, of what my rejection would do him. Such despair he wallows in, and there I am in the centre! A small beacon of hope, my little face is fierce and determined. Is that me? I look so … beautiful. My hair shines like a halo, my eyes sparkle like stars, and I’m always smiling at him. When he turns from me to darker thoughts, I scowl, and rough him up. This delights him, makes him feel hot where he’s arctic. Good! This mental me knows what she’s about then. I cannot believe that shining light is me, or what Ben thinks and feels about the subject that is me. Ooops! I was too noisy in my joy at finding myself so prominently entombed in his psyche, and Ben is aware of me now. I’m being pushed away and thrown out of his mind on my ass.

  I blink, open my eyes, and we’re back in the booth. Everybody is coming down from his or her orgasmic high, and this world is colder and less real than the one inside Ben’s mind. I try to go back but he has locked the gate. Damn him. How will I ever get back inside that mental stronghold? I’m going to start my own guerrilla movement with the sole purpose of finding my way back inside.

  My neck is sore where I wear his bite, but he did not drink from me? Stupidly, I try to hide the pang of irrational jealousy this time, but will it actually escape his notice? Hell, maybe this time it’s justified, in a perverse way.

  Ben chuckles, and my jeans are being zipped and buttoned up. ‘That was not feeding. That was me loving you. When I bite you it is for love. You are my bride.’

  He kisses my temple, lingers as he inhales. He’s shaken from my unexpected trip into his consciousness. Ah, love,
come on now. You do it to me all the time and I don’t freak out about it, do I?

  The couple opposite us put themselves to rights. I eye them through the haze of my happiness. They appear lucid at a glance, but focus deeper and there is blankness there, as if self-awareness has been replaced by something else. Ben’s will? Does he simply remove inhibition to the point the mind crashes and is easily controllable? I’ve so many more questions now.

  ‘Tomorrow,’ Ben thinks at me gently, but it’s underscored in my mind with a profound importance. ‘Go back to your friend and enjoy her tonight. Tomorrow you’re mine.’

  I do not reply, cannot reply. I’m mentally and physically discombobulated, to be honest. If I open my mouth, I will blurt something stupid, so I simply hold his gaze as he shifts me off him and places me on the booth seat. Without any fanfare, he turns from me and walks away. I watch until he is out of my line of sight, the couple trailing behind him in a trance. Do I want to wonder what will happen to them?

  Seriously, that elimination of plausible scenarios is best left alone, Lee.

  My camisole is bunched beneath my breasts, so I smooth it down, letting the caress linger, imagining. I wipe away a tear, sniff, and then flick away more tears. Great, now I’m crying. Big sobs punctured with relieved chuckles, and blissful giggles escape me. I’m in a state of rapture, of delightful anticipation. Oh, dear me! I am falling in love, and how complicated, messy, and wonderful it is. It’s like an avalanche of boulders. At first one small pebble was heading my way, now the whole damn mountainside is tumbling down, and I’m at the bottom, palms to the sky. How can I hold the weight of all that love up? I’m just little old me. My heart might explode!

  I scrub away my tears and stand; I shake out my hair. As I make my way back to the bar, I think I’m floating.

  My drink sits innocently on the counter; perspiration beads the glass and rolls down to make a small puddle on the bar top. My stool is empty, but that does not surprise me, people are busy dancing at this hour rather than sitting and drinking. I pick up the glass and press it to my neck, shivering when the cold meets my overheated skin. Taking a sip, I let the drink chill my mouth and throat. I burn from the inside out and am quite afraid there will be nothing left but smouldering ash come morning. God help me, what have I gotten myself into?

  Tisk, Lee. You know exactly where you are, and what you’re doing, so why backpedal now for the sake of making yourself feel … purer?

  My grip on the glass tightens until a thin crack appears at the base. I want more. More of Ben and more of what he makes me feel.

  Bethany taps her fingernails on the bar top, twirling the black stick in her cocktail. “Hey, you want to see a movie with me tomorrow night?” she asks after a few minutes of us both pondering whatever.

  I take another sip of my drink, but I’m more focused on keeping my thoughts off what Ben can do to me with a few strokes of his hands, than on what explanation I’ll be giving for blowing her off. “Not tomorrow,” I say finally.

  She narrows her eyes and assesses me. I guess what she sees: bruised lips, flushed cheeks, glassy eyes. She lets her gaze roam the room and I fight the urge to tell her she is too late, that the darkest corner of heaven has come and gone. “You met him, right?” she babbles excitedly. “The guy I said you were going to lock gazes with and fuck. You never say no to the movies. Ever. And my Feelings are never wrong. You must have met him.” I squish down my smile, but she catches it. “I knew it. Miss Uptight snagged herself a man.” She jumps up scanning the crowd. “Let me see, where is he?”

  I laugh, full bodied, and infused with joy. I am happy. I flirt with death and I’m blissfully happy. How sick. “Gone,” I reply, still laughing.

  He told me he would see me tomorrow night. Do I have to come here, or will he find me? Well, no matter how badly I want to see him I will not be that easy. I smooth a fingertip over my lips, considering. Should I take it back to where it all began? Back to where my life took the turn I will never come back from. Of course, it’s apt, fitting.

  “Okay,” I agree to the cinema. “What is it we’re seeing?”

  I’ve seen every movie showing so it doesn’t really matter to me … okay I admit I had not actually watched any of them, I’d simply stared at Ben. I laugh harder. I had stalked him. My poor darling, did he ever stand a chance of escaping me?

  Bethany picks up on my train of thought; something that can only happen when you have been friends before you knew life was not all about oral gratification. “We’ll pick when we get there, you’ve probably seen them all anyway.” She chews her lip thoughtfully. “So you’re blowing him off then?”

  Never. Death first. “No, just playing a game.” I smile wickedly and she instantly catches my mood and runs a finger down my inner arm.

  “God, Lee, I’m curious. Tell me, please. I can’t get a Feel on him,” she frowns as she places her pointed chin in her palm, “which is odd. Usually I can read men well. So…?” Her heart-shaped face is encouraging as her hand strokes my arm. “You know you want to tell me.”

  I think about what Ben is doing right now. Naturally, I’m inclined to think he’ll not take the girl, or indulge in a ménage a trois. He belongs to me now, and he’d never touch another unless I say he can. This I know in the core of me, just like no other man will have the right to touch me unless he gives permission. And so if he’s not going to sleep with them–

  No! Halt that thought right there, Lee. You are ignoring the plausible scenarios, remember?

  So perceptive he is, my Ben. He has given me one more night with Bethany; my best friend and occasionally my bed partner. I turn to look at her now, this person who means so much to me. Her fiancé was okay with our relationship, as far as I could tell. Bethany had made the sexual slant known to him early on, but promised that is as far as her wandering hands and mouth will ever go. He accepts her for what she is, and that’s why she will be okay when I’m gone. Something tells me my life will be too perilous for my friend to be around me.

  Smiling back at her, I wind my fingers into her pink bob and tug playfully. Her eyes darken. Still high from my encounter with Ben, I lean closer and brush my lips over hers. Bethany slides her tongue over my bottom lip and shivers as I hum appreciatively.

  Backing away, I see a bloke standing behind us. Pint glass halfway to his mouth, he is caught like a deer in headlights, the front of his slacks tenting. I roll my eyes. We had better get out of this bar before he attempts to drum up enough courage to actually come and speak his dirty little fantasy to us.

  “Beth, let’s go.”

  I push my way through the crowd, feeling Bethany’s hand gripping my shoulder with a promise to keep track of me.

  Tomorrow.

  Chapter 5

  Some Think Murder Is Recreation

  Throwing herself into a bucket seat, Bethany groans. “And we couldn’t stay in bed because…?”

  Settling down beside her, I pop a kernel of popcorn in my mouth and sigh at the sweet saltiness on my tongue and the delicious crunch as I bite down. “Because you suggested it.”

  “That was before the hangover from hell.”

  I shrug and suck deeply on my jumbo straw. Yum. Pepsi and popcorn, nothing in the world like it.

  We’re slumming it in joggers, faded tee shirts, and hoodies. Hooking a sneaker clad foot under my bum, I’m entirely too comfortable. I have that lush afterglow that cannot be reproduced with overpriced creams or ointments. My body feels soft and supple, my smile a bit too wide.

  Bethany adjusts her sunglasses, a testament to how bad her hangover must be if she needs them in a darkened cinema screen, and fluffs the back of her electric blue bob, her fingernails now a jazzy indigo. It’s only because I happen to be looking at her I glimpse the bruise on the back of her neck as her fingers smooth over it. Was that there last night? Her pink wig was longer so that area was covered.

  I drop the drink into the holder and snatch her wrist to see better, pushing her head into her chest. �
�Hey,” she protests, but the words die on her lips when she spies my face.

  “What is that on the back of your neck?” I ask, my words short and punchy.

  Hold it back, Lee. She bruises easy; there may be a reasonable explanation.

  She pales, pats her hair down, and focuses on the screen in front of us. “I thought it had faded,” she mumbles. “Don’t go there, alright? Let’s have fun tonight. We had a great day and I don’t want it spoiled.”

  My anger explodes so forcefully my legs jerk and popcorn scatters across the floor. Spoil it? She has unexplained bruises on her body and she wants to remain silent? I rein myself in and manage to keep our bag of Revels from falling to the floor.

  “Like hell I won’t go there. That looks like finger marks on the back of your neck and shoulder.” I pause, my stomach sinks, and I whisper. “Did I do that to you when I–?”

  “No!” She places a hand on mine and her eyes are gentle. “No. You’ve never hurt me, Lee.”

  I grit my teeth, because that leaves, “Derek.” The name has Bethany flinching. Derek is her fiancé. The fiancé I spent the night before convincing myself would take care of my friend after I left. Just like that, my mood is black and I have murder on the brain. I inhale and exhale deeply to control the rage. Is this what The Hulk feels like? Derek, that asshole, I’ll tear his useless domestic abusing head off the next time I lay eyes on him. Better yet, I’ll bite it off. “Is this the first time?” I ask to be sure I’ve not made a mistake of some kind or jumped to a conclusion.

  Bethany huffs, “Lee, these things happen. Let’s not make a big deal out of it. The signs were there long before he actually did anything. We were arguing, and I should’ve backed off, but you know what my mouth is like when it gets going. This is the first and last time it’s happened. Promise. He just … it was my own fault anyway.”

  Her … her fault? What could my sweet Beth do that would mean anybody would lay hands on her.