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I’m fucking desperate for it.
Bee is louder than I’ve ever heard her. “Yes, fuck, yes, please.” Her hands are in my hair, drawing over my cheeks, nails scratching against the short hairs along my jaw. I suck and bite her bottom lip, drinking down her moans. These littleuh-uh-uhs that ruin me.
“Fuck.”
She’s slick and hot and perfect.
I’m not going to last.
“Are you going to come for me again?”
All of my attention is on holding myself up, on fucking her like this. “Touch yourself. Let me feel you come.”
As soon as she does, it’s a race to the finish for both of us. I’ve been hard from the moment she started stripping, and if I had a single thought left in my brain beyondfuck, yes, Bee, then I’d congratulate myself on lasting this long.
A few more sharp thrusts, then Bee is screaming, and I’m done. I comehard, hips stuttering in and out a few more times as I pump into the condom.
When she falls asleep in my arms, I pull her close, cementing the feel of her in my memory. The house will still be here when she leaves, but it won’t be the same. I won’t be the same.
But if she’s going to go, I don’t know that I have it in me to stop her.
And it’s selfish as fuck to want her to stay.
24
BEE
Another day,another week, another chapter. More figures have been granted colorful outfits, and the wall now resembles a number of club bathrooms I’ve given relationship advice to strangers in. What can I say, entering a women’s restroom after ten p.m. is half group therapy, half social movement.
But it’s not enough.
Writing always goes this way for me. Slow to start, then an avalanche, picking up momentum as ideas form.
I’m happy to be making progress.
And yet.
What have I really gained? I’m still hiding. The number of people who even know about the book is smaller than the number of times it took to pass my driver’s test. I’ve dated more people in the last five years than I opened up to in the twenty-three before that, and wasn’t that ultimately what I wanted help with?
Getting the book finished is important, but it’s only the first of so many steps I’m not ready for.
Beside me, my phone buzzes once, twice, and on and on. It’s a reminder that I made a promise, and reluctantly, I pull away. Sebastian takes a step back as I slip off the counter.
I pull up Morgan’s messages.
Morgan: Oops I’m drunk can we meet out?
We were supposed to meet at her place. I don’t want to be disappointed, but I am. She’s going to insist I catch up to her, and it’s been so long since I’ve had a drink that I’m a little worried about what it’ll do to me.
Morgan: not sure what youre wearing but i’m tits out tonight
Morgan: it’s freezing but if I can I’ll dress like a whore lol
Morgan: So question… we doing this?
Morgan: I might not have the same equipment but i’m hotter than your roommate and i miss you
I’m fighting myself. I want to go. It’s been weeks since Morgan and I have spent quality time together, and I’ve been trying to convince myself that it’s not a sign of anything, but I also want to stay.
