He broke our kiss, dropping his head to my lace-covered breasts where he sucked through the material, bringing me back to the here and now. The sensations overwhelmed me. I was a ball of knots, feeling like I could die from the pleasure while I waited for it to erupt.
I rocked into his finger, and he added another, stretching me, preparing me. I was no longer tense or afraid; I was wanton and lost in the moment. Instead of my past invading, as I had feared, the touch and the sensations consumed me, leaving no room for anything else.
Leaning over, I slid his shirt over his head, exposing his glorious body to me. The sprinkling of chest hair felt rough against me, his muscles flexing with every movement while his eyes were lost in lust. Then I paused, letting his fingers fill me as I burst around his digits. The aftershocks washed through me as I became overly sensitive.
I could only moan incoherently as Giano would whisper or groan. I was so lost in the sensations I couldn’t give my attention to his words. I was terrified, if he stopped—if we stopped—I would combust. I didn’t want to say the wrong thing or move the wrong way and chance giving up this ecstasy.
He pulled out and moved over me as he slid my lingerie up then kissed his way down my belly. He gently nipped at my inner thighs before swiping his tongue over my tingling pussy lips. As he lapped and licked and set me on fire, I came alive again, needing more.
Reaching down, I pulled his face to my own and kissed him, tasting myself on his lips. I slid my hands down to his boxers then pushed them down, freeing him. Gripping his length, I slid my hand up and down his shaft, feeling it throb with each stroke.
He was huge, and for a second, I paused, wondering how he would fit. Then I imagined the feel of him inside my slick heat, and I was ready to push him in myself.
I guided him to where I wanted him, but before I could line us up, he moved my hand away and took control. He slid the head through my lips then rubbed my clit, and I arched into him as the tip slid inside me. I was so wet he glided right in as I stretched to fit him.
I tensed as I felt the burn, and he paused as he hit my virginal barrier. Then with a surge, he broke through, and I cried out as the pain mixed with pleasure, and I saw lights behind my eyelids.
I had wanted this man from the moment I realized what men and women were really meant to do together. It was everything I had ever imagined it to be and then some. He turned something once so bad and horrifying into something almost magical. Love filled me, passion burned from inside me, and I couldn’t let go as I craved more and more. This was a high I felt like I could die from if it crashed down around me.
He thrust into me, grunting as my body instinctively milked him. His arm supported his weight as his free hand tweaked my hard nipple.
Needing to hold him close, I wrapped my legs around him and kept him locked to me with only enough room to slide in and out of my tight, wet heat. With each move of his shaft, I felt fuller and fuller as my orgasm continued to climb once again.
“Geee-aaaaaahhhhh-nnnnoooo,” I cried out hoarsely, never wanting it to end.
He pounded into me a few more times before he stilled, and warm liquid filled me.
“I love you.”
Jolting awake I sat up in the bed, “I LOVE YOU!” I screamed the words so loudly my throat hurt from the strain.
“I loved you, I love you, I love you.” I repeated the words over and over until I was out of breath.
“Why didn’t you stay?” The tears fell down my face in steady streams. “Why do I lose everyone good? Why can’t I have love? Family? Why do I have to be alone?”
I let the pain, the anger, the loss all consume me. I let myself feel it all, drown in every bad thought. My body trembled, my heart beat painfully in my chest, everything spun out of control. I broke out in a cold sweat.
The loss weighed me down like an anchor holding a ship in place. I was rooted in the bed, stuck in my memory.
The most important moment of my life has now become my worst nightmare. Who has karma like that? Life was against me. Love was always beyond my grasp.
When every ounce of energy seemed to drain from my body, I lifted from the bed and went to the bathroom. In the mirror, I didn’t recognize the woman looking back at me. My eyes were swollen, puffy, and bloodshot. My cheeks were sunken in. My hair hung drably, looking stringy and lackluster.
I turned to the shower.
For a moment, I thought back to this very shower so long ago.
Did my stranger need release?
Slowly, timidly, I uncurled and moved to him. My stomach twisted as anxiety filled me, and trepidation once again washed over me. I had never been in this situation before. I didn’t know what I should do.
I placed my shaking hand over his wrist, tugging at him to gain his attention. He looked up at me, his exhaustion showing. I traced my finger down his forearm as my body tightened in fear. I didn’t know what else to do for him. He could have killed me, yet he hadn’t.
I was suddenly tossed backward to the ground as he jumped from his seat as if my touch had burned him. Confusion ran through me as fear overtook my body and adrenaline kicked in.
“Don’t!” he barked at me as he towered over me. “Don’t touch me! That’s not what you’re here for!” he roared as he stomped out of the room, leaving me once again to my solitude.
Tears ran down my face.
Feeling confused and dirty, I went to the bathroom and turned on the shower, not paying attention as I discarded my clothing. He didn’t want me and I had done wrong. The fabric left my body in swift movements.
No, her clothing. It wasn’t my own, they were Angelina’s clothes. I had nothing of my own anymore. Was one hell any better than the next? My destiny was my eternity, wrapped in darkness. Crazy questions continued on in my mind as I let the water spray harshly against the tiled walls.
Stepping into the shower, I wanted to cry out in pain. The water scalded my skin as the steam filled my lungs, and the small room spun. I didn’t move. I let each drop prick and burn my body while I silently wished for it to burn away the memories of my existence. I didn’t allow myself to think of turning it down or stepping out. Like everything else in my life, I didn’t allow myself to escape.
I was dizzy. I was lost. I was drowning in a sea of uncertainty and filth. Still, I didn’t move.
There was a noise on the other side of the shower curtain, but I was stuck in place. The pain became real as I looked to my now reddened arms. Then the rings scraped against the metal pole of the shower curtain rod, and I gasped in surprise when my stranger suddenly was standing in front of me, wrapping me in a towel while yanking me harshly out of the spray of water.
“You can’t do this!”
We were riddled and tainted with miscommunications. He thought I was intentionally using the shower to hurt myself after his rejection, but in reality I was just lost.
Completely lost.
Like now, without Giano.
I didn’t know how to cope back then and I don’t know how to now. I only wanted to give him happiness.
Turning on the shower to as hot as I could get it, I stepped under the spray. In seconds, I was soaked. My clothes quickly saturated and clung to my body. The heat scalded my skin, but I didn’t waver. I let the weight hold me in place.
Held down.
Stuck.
Frozen in place.
I physically couldn’t move because my emotions were too heavy.
That’s when I realized what the future held for me.
Angelina Nylene Diamante.
Four
Name.
The paperwork in front of me taunted me.
I had made the decision under the hot spray of water. Only when the shower ran cold did I emerge. Stepping out, I knew what I had to do. What Giano would want me to do.
I called Alanzo.
He encouraged me and set up the appointment today.
It felt rushed.
It was all too soon.
Except, I ha
d this hard lesson in life where time was never on my side.
Things didn’t happen when I wanted them to or how I desired so I had to once again take the hits life threw me.
With hands trembling, I filled out the paperwork, sealing my future as Angelina Diamante. Signing this gave me access to all of Giano’s money, insurance, stocks, and entitled me to everything.
Alanzo sat beside me in the second leather chair that was placed across from the attorney’s oversized desk.
The air in the room was chilly. The furniture was all done in deep cherry wood and the dark walls gave the room a powerful feel. Then again, maybe it was just in the air. This room, I was sure, had been used to sign many divorce papers, many wills, and many inheritance papers like now. All of them tied to an ending of some sort.
Ending.
Giano’s life ended.
I had to accept it.
Even now, it didn’t feel real, but I knew it was.
Signing these papers was nothing more than another reminder of what I lost not what I was gaining.
“Where to next?” The attorney, whose name Alanzo gave me but I didn’t listen, asked.
His name didn’t matter. Nothing mattered but signing the paperwork so I could have my affairs in order and get out of here.
“College,” I managed to mutter.
“Locally or away?”
“Time will tell,” Alanzo cut him off causing me to turn and look at him. He gave the slightest nod of his head. His face remained stoic, giving nothing away.
I took the hint. In moments we were leaving and I had everything in order.
“Never tell anyone your plans. Don’t allow anyone a chance to get a lock on you,” Alanzo instructed as he opened the car door for me.
Now I knew why he cut me off about school. Always protecting me, that was Uncle Zozo.
The attorney would file everything. I now had a house, three cars, and a boat I hadn’t known about, along with four life insurance policies, and the money in the bank.
I was set for life.
I didn’t have to go to school.
I could live off what was left to me.
Except I didn’t want that.
Losing everything over and over again had taught me one thing: do not rely on anyone else to take care of me ever again.
With every passing day, I realized I needed help.
Emotional help.
Mentally, I had crashed.
Except I couldn’t go to therapy. No one could know my truth. Alanzo had made it clear the world Giano was tied to and who my parents really were put a target on my back.
The only way I could recover my mental stability was to teach myself.
With that decided, Alanzo and I spent the week figuring out the best schools for me to study psychology. He listened to all of my thoughts and gave me opinions of his own. In the end, we came up with a plan that had a long-term safety net for me.
Money.
It was funny to learn the things it could buy me. Like acceptance to a collage in Oregon that had no openings.
The West Coast would show Giano’s associates that I was truly out of the picture. It solidified my move to be apart from the life he led. This would keep me secure and able to focus on my studies. Alanzo didn’t feel I was in any danger. For the most part, Giano had very few true enemies. The ones he did have he gained by refusing to work for them, not because he crossed anyone. This meant that any allies would rally behind protecting me should the need arise.
Somehow, I didn’t find this comforting.
I also wasn’t afraid.
I was simply numb.
So what if an enemy took me out. What life did I really have left to lead? I would be the easiest kill for anyone because my will to live was ultimately gone. Who would even notice I was gone? Only Alanzo, and he would never say anything. He couldn’t. No, I was only existing to honor Giano.
It took some time going over things, but I had a plan. With Uncle Zozo the pieces of the puzzle were falling into place. I was going to move and have a fresh start.
One I was in control of.
Five
Seven Months Later
Waking up, I felt the same longing I had since getting here. It wasn’t home.
But home wasn’t home without Giano so this was a feeling I knew I would have anywhere I went. While I wished with everything that I could not be so lost, that I could find passion for something again, I simply couldn’t.
Oregon was peaceful, though.
The air was clean. The people I had encountered were nice. Going to school in Portland I had some hustle and bustle, but just outside of town, I had an apartment that was cozy. I lived the college life where everything was about classes, projects, and exams.
The same stir-crazy feeling I dealt with every morning since burying Giano washed over me. Getting out of bed, I dressed quickly and put on my running shoes.
Running.
It was my calm in the storm.
The pavement moved under my body. Step-by-step, my feet pushed me forward. This was how my life worked. Keep moving forward, against all odds.
The direction I went didn’t matter, it was the fact that I was moving. I was headed somewhere, even if I didn’t always know where that here was specifically.
For me, running was a release. Once I started, I continued on, taking in every step, every foot, every mile. It was the return that got me every time. I knew what awaited me at home.
Nothing.
Emptiness.
Void.
Quiet.
Solitude.
This was my reprieve from the walls closing in. The open air, the rock beneath me, and pushing my body to keep on. I always hesitated when it came time to go home. I struggled with the word, the thoughts, and the space. Running was always easy when I was going anywhere but the empty space I resided.
By the time I got back, showered, changed, and headed to school, I was late. This was not uncommon. Last semester, I ended up dropping my first period class because I needed to run or my day was a mess. I thought I scheduled this class late enough to get my run in before I had to be here. Apparently, I was wrong. This was not a good start to my second semester.
Rushing to campus and into the History class, I was a mess of books, my bag, and my mind.
“You must be Ms. Diamante,” the professor announced upon my scurried entrance.
I nodded.
“Seeing as it’s the first day of the new semester, it isn’t often students miss roll call … at least today. Take your seat,” he ordered and I struggled to get settled. “Let’s not be so disruptive, shall we.”
The pompous ass began his lecture on the syllabus for the quarter. Truthfully, I didn’t care. This was a wasted class to me. There was nothing for me to learn from history other than the millions of mistakes that had been made by leaders over time, only creating more discord in humanity.
I was being harsh, judging him, and considering him an arrogant ass based on a brief two-minute interaction. However, I found it more disrupting to his class for him to call me out rather than to continue on.
For in theatre, the show must go on—why did professors not subscribe to this same philosophy?
His hazel eyes bore into mine as he lectured on and on about the expectations of the materials covered, projects due, and deadlines that would under no circumstance be moved.
It was the same damn speech they all gave.
Except Mr. Patrick gave off the domineering attitude that somehow made his words sink in deeper. I didn’t want to challenge him or fail to meet his expectations.
It made me think.
I didn’t often have any kind of reaction to anyone. Typically, I wasn’t concerned with satisfying anyone else’s demands of me. I had lost everything, so I had nothing left to lose. This man, though—he struck a chord inside of me. One that had been silent since Giano’s death. It was an uncomfortable feeling to have this reaction to him.
Funny, the human
psyche. The totality of one’s mind, both subconsciously and consciously, and the reactions we had to others was strange.
For everyone was wired differently.
Something about his baritone and pitch changes for emphasis had my ears alert to his every word, but not comprehending them.
The rest of the lecture hall left my mental space as I seemed entranced by his command of the room.
Mr. Patrick, Shawn Patrick, was a new professor to the school, having only relocated here from New Jersey during the fall semester, same as me. It was in the biography sheet he included with his syllabus. What the paper didn’t say was how captivating his demeanor was. He truly commanded the room. He had dark hair and hazel eyes. His build was bulky, but from the form of his neck it was muscle and not fat.
With the way he carried himself, he didn’t seem to be a man of overindulgence, but rather one in complete control.
Control.
I craved it. My entire childhood was spent completely out of my control. So now, I fought for it.
Mr. Patrick was in command of the room—complete, confident control.
He didn’t smile, he didn’t carry on, he stated what he felt was important to our class and moved on.
Precise.
To the point.
He didn’t mince words or waste them. He was clear.
I found it … no him … attractive.
My palms were sweating as my heart beat irregularly. I wasn’t sure if I was having a panic attack or thoroughly engaged in his trance. This was unfamiliar to me as no one stood out to me, male or female, since my arrival in Oregon. In fact, this was the first moment outside of running where my heart has even raced.
Attraction was a funny thing like that.
I felt my foot turn inward slightly and forced it back to the straight position.
Body language. I had studied much about it over the summer with nothing to do but read. When a woman was attracted to a man, subconsciously we turned one foot slightly inward. It was something one had to truly pay attention to notice.
Well, Alanzo had warned me to never give any cues to anyone about anything. I was closed off to the world and to my emotions.
Seeking Solace Page 3