by Mj Fields
I have no idea what she is talking about, or what I am talking about, anymore.
“What do you mean, what?”
“You just said, ‘I hate to make women unhappy.’ Then you said a bunch of other things. Like how you like to tie them up and fu—”
“No, I didn’t.” I look away.
Did I say those things out loud? Fuck!
“Yes, you did. In plain English. But that’s not the lifestyle you promised. That’s not what bondage is.”
“So, now you have become an expert!?”
“Based on my internet research...well, yeah. With you, I expected to be free from my shame, free from choices and free from trying to force feelings.”
“I gave you pleasure and offered you a different kind of freedom.”
“No, see, that’s where you’re wrong! You gave me you! You gave me a lover, someone to obsess over and think about and want, constantly. From day one, you pretended to care what I wanted. Listened, when I said stop. Then the past two days, you have pushed me away, yes, but at least you did it in a way that I still trusted you! You promised me monogamy and I believed I would be safe and have a friend, at least until you were done with me, when this was over. You trusted me with your pain and then you just...you took it all back! You stole it all back and made me feel like an idiot for thinking I ever had it. But I am not crazy! I had it, I felt it, I know I did.”
“I never gave you a lover, Melyssa. I was never gentle. I never used words of love to get you under me. Think about the biggest difference between me and all those other men. They offered love, I offered only release.”
“You,” she whimpers, and her lip quivers, “You are lying to yourself. You care about me, I know you do.”
“No,” I shake my head. “That’s not what I offered. I said I would care for you—financially, and physically—I never said I would care about you. Not like that.”
She laughs, hysterically. “So, I’m not just crazy, I’m stupid! And you aren’t cruel, you’re just...it’s just a language barrier problem, is that it? You hurt me, and it’s my fault for misunderstanding. ...No, I take it back, you’re still cruel.”
“How am I cruel?!”
“Because it’s not just what you say. That girl back there, you were flirting with her. Why would you do that—act that way in front of me? Because burger girl was just too hard to resist? No fucking way! You did it because of me! To hurt me!”
“You went to the bathroom. I didn’t invite her over. You then instigated that...ridiculousness. Then you acted like a wild animal and not just then, either. You screamed when I was on the phone to Valentina—”
“Well....That was just poor timing on your end. Can’t blame me for that one bit, you loved seeing me jealous! Just as much as you love the idea that I am a sobbing mess right now.”
“No,” I say, dryly. “I would prefer this not to happen.”
Melyssa looks away. She breathes deeply, trying to stop herself from crying. Her body shakes with each intake of breath and her lips purse as she lets each one out slowly. She lifts her shirt, wipes her eyes and sits back.
“Take me home now, please.”
“No.” It comes out before I can even think about what I am saying.
“Then shoot me. I’m not a game to be played, over and over, until you beat your high score. You’ve cracked me, you’ve won. Now leave me alone and maybe someday I can relocate my dignity, my sanity and my,” she pauses, “nope, that one’s gone forever. Just take me home.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I’m sure,” she laughs bitterly, wiping away more tears.
I reach over and help her. “I’m sorry I hurt you.”
She shrugs. “It was bound to happen.”
“Right.”
My thumb catches the next tear on her lips and slides across. Tears have always bothered me, but not these. They’re soft, they’re hot, they’re…hers.
“Please, don’t.” More tears fall and I am engrossed in them. The way they keep coming, the heat of them, the clarity. They are emotions. Each one causes me to soften.
“I’m sorry I hurt you,” I repeat. “I don’t want to take you home.”
“Jesus! Tell me what you want from me, Sabato? I’m so tired of letting you confuse me.”
“I don’t want that, either. I don’t know what I want. But I know what I don’t want.”
“Then tell me.
“I don’t want to make you feel used, but I realize now that’s what I am doing. I don’t want you to feel like I was trying to make you jealous, but maybe...I probably was. I don’t want to find someone else to be my wife, because honestly I don’t want a wife. But if I had to be stuck with one, you’re a good choice. The best choice. I don’t want to wake up in the morning next to anyone, but if I have to, I would rather it be you. I don’t want to share my feelings, but when you share yours...I like that. I don’t want you to have feelings for me. I don’t want to have feelings for you. I don’t want make you cry. And I really, really don’t want to trust you, but...somehow, I fucking do.”
She covers her face with her hands.
“I don’t want you to feel ashamed, because you have nothing to be ashamed of. And I don’t regret that I was the first man to tie you up and make you come. ...And I know as soon as you open up those green eyes, I am going to regret that I didn’t just let you go, but because I am incredibly selfish, I don’t want to believe that this was all a mistake.”
Her tears are rolling down her face now and I want to taste them.
I have always been a marked man. Marked by sadness and misery. Everyone I touch is destroyed in front of me, and as much as I want to give her what she asks for, I can’t give her that burden. Because, in the end, she will realize that’s all I am: a damned, cursed burden.
I lean in and kiss her tears, expecting her to pull away from me, even wanting her to, for her own good.
“Call her back,” she whispers against my face.
“We can wait,” I say, between kissing her tears.
“No, tomorrow you may piss me off again and that will be like the third strike.”
I can’t help but chuckle, relieved and full of regret. “It’s bound to happen.”
“Just call your girlfriend.”
“Don’t do that. She’s not anything.”
“At the very least, she’s your friend.”
“No....”
“Sabato,” she pushes her forehead against mine, nudging me away. “Don’t pretend no one cares about you. And don’t pretend you don’t care, because you care harder than anyone I’ve ever met.”
“Oh?” The way she says it, I feel as if she’s about to taunt me. I start to pull away and she grabs my face between her hands, stopping me.
“If you didn’t care, you wouldn’t try so hard to be a gigantic douche bag, just to push people away. For whatever reason, you think you deserve to be alone, that it’s safer that way. But you don’t and it’s not.”
I frown, but she’s not entirely wrong.
Her thumb drags across my lip. “Don’t push me in a corner and disregard how brilliant I really am. When I am not playing an infatuated teenager, I am really pretty damn smart.”
“Infatuated?”
She nods. “Just watch. I’m gonna prove to you I’m right.”
“About?”
“You.”
She presses her lips against mine and I feel warm and lit up inside.
“Do you want to feel something profound?” I ask. As she kisses me, I pull her hand to my erection.
She laughs against my mouth. “Okay, I like you again, for now. But I have places to be. You need to make a phone call, before I change my mouth.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Mind?”
“Mmmkay.”
Then her hands are unleashing me from my pants and I am scrambling for the phone. I send a text to Valentina, but I don’t call her. I’ve learned my lesson.
“Drive.” Melyssa leans over and kisses my ne
ck and slowly makes her way down. And down.
“Damn,” I hiss, as she sucks on my tip. “I think making you angry might have turned out to be a good id—” She bites down, not very gently. “Fuck, okay, bad fucking idea!”
*.*.*
I have the stamina of twenty men.
I smile, knowing that her smart mouth will be so sore after this, the only thing she’ll be able to say for the rest of the day, is ‘I do.’
After almost twenty minutes has gone by, Melyssa looks up at me in frustration. “Am I doing this wrong?”
I smile wider and shake my head, no. She looks insecure, which is a turn on, but I’ve done enough damage.
“No, bella, it feels so good I don’t want it to stop.” She looks pleased and I push her head down. “Dammi di più.”
After another minute, I set the car on cruise control, steer with my knee, grab the base of my cock in one hand and the back of her head with the other and finally take my pleasure.
She sits up when I let go of her head and immediately grabs her drink from the cup holder. She sucks that straw just as furiously as she did my cock. There is perspiration on her forehead and a sweet little smile on her lips.
“That was very good,” I praise her. “I want it again, in an hour.”
“Really?” she gasps.
“Really.”
I don’t tell her why and I am not so much of a ‘douche bag’ that I really want her mouth so sore she can’t talk. It’s because of the dress hanging in the back.
I reach over after she has settled in her seat and take her hand. “I want to be your friend.”
She laughs and it’s contagious.
“It’s because of the blow job, isn’t it?”
I kiss her hand. “No. Well...maybe.”
She is quiet for a minute, then, “Sabato?”
“Yes?”
“I’m sorry I was, well crazy. That’s not me.”
“It’s understandable.”
“No, I am usually way cooler than that.”
“Okay.”
“If I hurt your feelings, with some of the things I said...I’m sorry.”
I nod, once. “If I had feelings, I would accept your apology.”
“Sabato, don’t joke. We need to—”
“Melyssa, I pushed you. I know that. I am man enough to accept my responsibility in what happened, but not so much that I can promise not to push you in the future. I do, however, promise that I won’t try to make you jealous or hurt you emotionally.”
I think about what I have just said, knowing it’s too late to take it back. I wonder if I can give her that. I wonder, because I have never tried before. I kept my promise to Luciana for a very short time, only a few weeks. God must have known I couldn’t keep a promise for much longer.
She sits up and looks over at me, then looks down. I point to the clock. I didn’t even bother to put my cock back in my shorts. Why bother? She leans over, seeking a kiss. I give her one, then another.
“Tic toc,” I say and point down.
“I hope you know that was the first time I have ever, you know...in a car.”
“Given head?” I am shocked.
“Well, I mean at the club sort of, and last night, but I’ve never....”
“Swallowed?”
“You’re clean, right?”
“Yes Melyssa,” I answer with certainty, because I am certain. “I am.”
When she bends over the console and takes me in her hand, I am sure this time won’t take as long. There is something sexy as hell about being a woman’s first. Maybe I wasn’t cursed as much as I thought. Luciana was a virgin and Melyssa’s mouth was unclaimed, before me.
When she finishes this time, it’s all on her own.
After she takes a drink, she sits back again and this time I seek her hand and pull her toward me. “Rest.”
She nods, already closing her eyes. “No Melyssa here.”
She leans against my shoulder and I like this.
As I drive, I think of Luciana. I also think of my mother and for the first time in my life, I pray that my selfishness doesn’t get taken out on her. But as she pointed out, the Devil himself is dead. I have proof of his death and I have taken measures to prove that it was self-defense on my part, so he cannot drag me to hell with him.
“Melyssa?”
“Yes?”
“What do your friends call you?”
“Mel,” she answers, with a little smile in her voice.
“Okay.”
I wake to him turning off the car. I don’t want to open my eyes, because I worry that Sabato will be in a mood again.
I know I should expect it by now, instead of constantly being surprised by it. Sabato spent his life alone. Everyone he cared for died and he recently found out his father killed his mother. Almost killed him in the process. A fact I can’t even begin to process, let alone understand.
My heart breaks for him. But it also breaks for me. I am a sad excuse for a feminist. A sorry reflection of who I once was—who I want to be again, someday. He was my first and I have fallen for him. Only he doesn’t know he’s my first.
Aside from the blow job part.
Other than the fact that I’ve fallen for him, I only know one thing for sure: Sabato will ruin me. Actually, two things: I will go, like a willing lamb, to his slaughter.
But even though I believe this, with every part of me, deep down there is still hope. Hope that whatever love I can show him will help him grow. Hope that he can somehow see himself as the good man I know he can someday be. Hope that he might break the cycle of hate and abuse he has suffered his whole life. Above all, hope that maybe, just maybe he might love me. Someday.
The song Believe by Mumford and Sons is playing. I decide it’s ours.
“Dea,” I hear him whisper. “We have to change fast. They are all waiting.”
My eyes fly open. “What? Who?” I look around wildly. “Where?”
He grabs my hand, “Where is the ring??”
“What? Oh. ...Oh!” I push my hand into my pocket and pull it out. “I was pissed at you.”
“I know.” Sabato takes the ring from me and shoves it roughly on my finger. “It doesn’t come off again.”
I nod. “Who’s waiting?”
“The witnesses. Andiamo, andiamo!” he says as he gets out.
We are in front of the Ritz Carlton and a valet takes the keys from Sabato as he grabs a bag and a garment bag from the back of the car. “Dea, andiamo.”
He holds his hand out to me.
“Okay, I understand nothing you are saying to me and I just woke up and you expect me to—” I stop when he takes my hand, pulls me flush to his body and kisses me. “Wow, it’s show time, huh?”
“Dea, goddess,” he explains with a smile, “Andiamo is kind of like hurry up.”
He half laughs as he pulls me behind him.
Before I know it, we are at the desk and the he is talking to the pretty concierge. I am very aware she is smitten with him and I am equally aware that it is pissing me off. Sabato looks at me and shakes his head. “My wife gets jealous, but she has no reason.”
Holy shit! I feel myself panicking, now that I’m awake enough to realize what’s happening. Holy shit, he is fucking crazy. Holy shit, I am crazy. And super excited. I feel him tug my arm then and I follow him. I practically run to keep up. We are in the elevator and he looks at me, “You are never at a loss for words. Is your mouth sore?”
“My head is spinning, I feel like I just went through relationship boot camp in the span of two days and I am scared—really, really scared, that you are going to start getting pissy within the next—I don’t know, any second, and that I am going to follow suit and act like an insane person. And I am not insane. I really am not, except for when it comes to you,” I take a quick breath, before continuing, “and I don’t even know where to begin with that, and—”
The door opens and I stop talking. The concierge is still with us. I am babbling like
a crazy person. I might actually be a crazy person.
“Mr. Efisto, Mrs. Efisto, this way.” We follow the concierge to our suite and I nearly die when the door opens. “Your guests are in the bar waiting. As soon as you’re ready, we will call them up and dinner will be served here.”
“Grazie, ten minutes and we will be ready.” As soon as she leaves, Sabato looks at me with an intensity that makes me remember the first time I saw him. And yes, the effect is still insane. “Voglio baciarti. Ma poi ho intenzione di scoparti. Non c'è tempo. Ma io farò si rilascia dopo.”
Whatever he said speaks to Elsa in the recently redecorated Arendelle. I just nod.
“We have to change now. Come.”
Oh I wish, I think to myself.
The dress is white and silk. It’s not the typical wedding dress—of course it’s not, it’s not a typical wedding, after all. Strapless and form-fitting, its skirt hits the knees and is a little poufy. It’s simple and beautiful. Sabato pulls out a baggie from inside the garment bag and hands it to me.
“Hold this.” As soon as I take it, he starts pulling my shorts down and my panties.
“There isn’t time,” I whimper.
He seems to take this as a challenge. He grabs the bag he just gave me and throws it on the ground. Then he lifts me up.
“Legs.”
I wrap them around him, without questioning. I hear the rip of a packet, he rolls the condom on. Within seconds, my back hits the wall and he is slamming into me. His finger rubs my clit as he thrusts in and out of me.
“Oh, God,” I moan.
“Shhh, our guests will be here soon.” He pinches my clit and I cry out again. “What will they think if they hear you calling for God, Dea, hmm?”
“That I’m a lucky,” he slams into me, “yet bruised, girl.”
“Should I be gentler?” He thrusts hard again.
“No!”
“Good, hang on.”
As soon as I come he does too, then he pulls out of me quickly.
“The baggy has your underclothes. I would have dressed you, however....”
“You need to change, too.”
“How about you use the bathroom? I hear our guests. I can change fast. Go Dea, hurry.” He gives me the intense stare again, when I don’t move right away. “Melyssa?”