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ROCK
CHAPTER 17
What the fuck just happened here?
As I clean my cum from the woman sprawled out on my desk, the most incredible fucking woman I’ve ever met, my heart feels like it’s in a vice grip. Seeing it drip from her tight little ass is one of the most beautiful things I’ve witnessed in a long time. Not because I fucked her there, not by far. Not because Snake and I just fucked her.
Because she gave herself to me, she trusted me to take care of her, to give her what she needs, what she craves, what she yearns for.
Because she needed it. She wanted it.
It was for her.
She gave me the greatest gift anyone could ever give.
She gave me herself.
“Do you have any idea how beautiful you look right now, princess?” I ask, my own voice unrecognizable to me.
I sound like such a fucking sap. I don’t do this.
She chuckles in her own sweet, innocent way with her legs open wide letting me do whatever I want, naked, uninhibited, and absolutely perfect.
“Really,” she asks, “naked, and legs spread?”
I grin like a kid. What in the hell is wrong with me?
“Yes, just like this. You open to me, vulnerable,” I lean over her and softly bite her lip, “trusting me completely,” I say quietly, my face an inch from hers, so close I feel her soft breath on my face. Because that’s what I want. I want all of her. “Snake was right, I should keep you here, just like this, all time.”
Her eyes flick over mine, back and forth, searching for something.
Truth?
Deceit?
Malice?
Honesty?
Sincerity?
“Why, Rock?”
The question is simple. People ask this same thing a million times a day. But what do they really want to know? And what do we really want to answer? Do we give them the surface reply, not allowing them to see below that facade to what’s really inside? The real reason, the true purpose? A glimpse at the being we really are, our needs, our desires, our hopes, dreams, and wants?
Do we let them know what we really feel?
Do we let them know we know what they really want and feel and need?
Do we accept that responsibility and in turn own it and commit to it?
Do we step to the plate and be what they need us to be?
Do we become what we need to be?
Or do we take the easy way out, the safe answer, keeping all of that truth buried underneath so many layers of bullshit, even we stop recognizing the falseness in our own words anymore?
I don’t move, I keep her pinned beneath me, each of us searching for answers in ourselves and in each other.
