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I feel her clenching around my dick. I’m so close to exploding, working my hips with precision.
She pulls away again, letting out a loud moan as I continue to thrust into her hard, and then she does it. She drags her nails down my back and the desired pain that she inflicts is the nail that seals my coffin. I let out the loudest moan as she screams.
“Fuck, John!” she cries.
I’m too late. She said it.
I steady for a moment before I roll off her and lie on my scraped back. Not sure what hurt more, the scratches or the fact she called out the fake name. I lie there with my eyes closed, just trying to wrap my head around everything I have unintentionally created.
“John,” she whispers to me.
I look over and her face is flushed, but the hint of blush that naturally forms causes her freckles to show a bit more. Her worried tone overshadows her post-lust gaze. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah.” I keep her eye. “It’s been a while.”
She blushes a bit more and tries to duck her head. I roll onto my side and grab her face tenderly, forcing her to look at me.
“Thank you,” I tell her.
“For what?” She stares back at me.
“Hushing the crowd,” I say before I kiss her again. We lie there and continue to kiss for a while. She pushes me onto my back and moves her body to straddle mine.
She sits up taller and shows her devious smile. “So, you aren’t a one-and-done kind of guy, are you?”
I grin with my hands resting on her thighs that are hugging me. My thumb is making small circles on the inside of her thigh. Her breath is catching up with every movement of my hands as they slowly caress her skin. My heart is beating fast and all I keep thinking about is this illusion of heaven before me when all I have seen is hell.
Maybe she isn’t an angel at all… maybe the devil sent her to hold me accountable. Perhaps, she is the devil.
CHAPTER 12
FEELINGS
Adam
It’s been a couple of days since Reese took hold of my balls and I did everything her eyes begged for. That angel devil walks this earth and I crawl at her feet for just one look.
When I finally left her, she mentioned me seeing her therapist. This Dr. Allison Dodson was “the real deal” for feelings. This is someone she’s confessed everything to. Everything about herself. I looked into this doctor and all I could find was just the face-value stuff. Dr. Allison Dodson has paid a lot to keep her personal life hidden. Reese talks about her like they are best friends. She suggested that I maybe speak to her about my PTSD. No one can understand the pain I go through, but for her, I promised to think about it.
I’ve booked an appointment with her, but like a car, I need a test drive. I can’t let her see me as I am, so—she gets George.
I glue on fake, slightly droopy cheeks and a mustache. Add a couple of sweaters on top of one another and tape a small pillow to my stomach. I slouch over, pushing my stomach out and giggle at how idiotic I look. Hello, pornstache and creeper to the max. Grabbing the temporary hair color spray, I make myself look as old as I can. A little choppy, but for a man my age, it looks appropriate.
I grab my cane and walk out of the cabin. Kevin is in the kitchen drinking coffee. He sees me and immediately sprays hot coffee all over the floor.
“What the fuck?!” He stares at me with wide eyes.
I smirk and give my best older man chuckle. “Meeting the therapist.”
“Good luck with that.” He holds his coffee cup up to salute me, then takes a sip before he gets back to eating breakfast. Bland toast and eggs. You get used to bland foods when you’re deployed and stuck in a spot where packaged meals are your only source.
I swing my cane around and walk out of the cabin. This Dr. better be good, or I am going to have to kill her. Literally. Maybe.
I drive to a parking garage and then hobble down to the bus stop. I take a glance at my watch and see it’s pulling up right on time. Ten hundred hours. I slowly step up and a young man my age helps me the rest of the way. What a sucker. I pay and sit down to window watch people as the bus drives around town. They walk around completely oblivious to bigger-picture things. Laughing and smiling with no worries. Gathering together and sharing stories of their lives that don’t mean shit. I shake my head at the thought that life could’ve been mine at one point. If my mom had just gone to the doctor, received the medication she needed, taken better care of herself, then she would’ve been here and I would’ve been living an oblivious life. “Heart attacks present differently in women,” I can still hear the doctor say. She never knew what to look for or what to expect.
The bus comes to a stop, jolting me from the memory, and I hobble off. The young man insists on helping me down and I’m finding that I like this George disguise. He can make people do things without asking. I kindly thank him and hobble up the street until I’m outside the doctor’s building.
Dr. Dodson, let’s see what you’ve got! I think to myself.
