“Eric,” I say as lock eyes with him, “I want you to fuck me.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
He rubs the length of his swollen cock along my opening, so warm compared to the cool air that had been there moments before. I grab fistfuls of the comforter as the head of his dick pushes its way into me. I’m so sensitive that I feel deliciously delirious, and I gasp as he pushes his full length into me, so much bigger than I thought he would feel.
“You feel so fucking good,” I tell him, and the praise fuels his fire.
He takes my right leg and brings it across to the other side of my body so my left leg is practically straight between his knees, the rest of me in a corkscrew position. My shoulders and upper back still lay flat on the mattress, my hips twisting over to the side, and his hands pushing down on my upward hip slightly to keep me in place as he plows into me so deep, he’s practically punching my cervix. It almost knocks the air out of me, and in this corkscrew position, my diaphragm is compressed, but I’m breathing fine. It’s a good kind of pain.
“God, Constance,” he moans, almost a plea.
“I’ll be your goddess,” I can’t help but smile as he continues to thrust full force into me. “If this is how you’ll worship me.”
“I’ll worship you forever,” he says, and my heart flutters at the accidental confession that he could want this, wantme, forever, “but I can’t last much longer.” His face is a delicious cocktail of pleasure and focus as he starts to slow.. “I’m going to come if I keep this up.”
“So do it,” I say. We hadn’t talked about it. “I’m on the pill.” It’s almost instant—I feel him spill himself deep within me, the telltale, involuntary twitch of his cock as his whole body shudders and he collapses on top of me. He rolls onto his side, cradling me in his arms, the movement making him pull out of me.
“Amen,” he says.
He breathes in the scent of my hair and plants little kisses along my temple before I feel him drift off to sleep as his breathing slows. My body rests, safe, as my mind starts to wander. I think about how Lilli will react when she finds out. Would Eric want to tell people?
I must have fallen asleep daydreaming, because I am startled awake when my phone rings. No, not my phone —the hotel phone, Eric’s room. As the disorientation fades, Eric answers it, and I grab my clothes and make it to the bathroom. Thanks for the number one sex ed lesson, mom. By the time I come out of the bathroom fully dressed, Eric has moved on to a call on his cell phone, completely ready for his day.
“I understand. I’ll be there in ten minutes.” The call ends, and he walks over to me, enveloping me into a big hug. “Duty calls.”
16 – Eric – Now
It’s the next night when I knock on Connie’s door. I haven’t gotten a chance to talk to her since yesterday, since last night. What a fucking night. I have been living on a cotton candy cloud since I left her room, all too aware that the smallest bit of rain could destroy everything.
What is even happening now? Are we going to move forward? Back? We haven’t talked about expectations.
Connie opens the connecting door, her hair in two braids, wearing fuzzy sweats. “Hey,” she says, and immediately, I sense her walls are up, the storm rolling in towards my cotton candy cloud.
“I didn’t mean to bug you,” I start back pedaling.
Her eyes assess me. “You didn’t. I was just about to put on an under-eye mask.” She leaves the door open and turns back toward the mirror in the bathroom while I stand there awkwardly in the door. I watch as she peels small green delicate pads from a jar and places one under each eye. “Can you set a timer for fifteen minutes?”
I take out my phone and set the timer. “Can I come in?”
Her brows pinch together. “I think we should talk.” She sits cross legged on the floor on her side of the door way, and I sit down too, my back against the foot of my bed and my arms crossed on my knees.
She’s not kicking me out, so this is a good sign, right? Letting me in, but not in her room. The imagery is interesting for a screenplay.
“It’s been a while,” she smiles.
“Less than a day,” I say.
Connie shakes her head. “I mean since Arizona.” Her eyes drop to her hands, where she’s fiddling with the drawstring of her sweats. “What have you been up to?”
“Are we about to have small talk, Stardust?”
“No, I just,” Connie lets out a puff of air, “well, you’re not exactly making a movie right now. How did you get… here?”
I let out a long breath. I want to be open with her too—that’s how these things work, right? “I’m the provider for my family,” I say with a shrug.
“Oh my God, you have a family?” She jumps up, her face turning red with rage. She grabs a pillow from her bed and is prepared to throw it at me. “You fucking pig—”
“Woah! No! I mean my mom and my sister!” My hands are up to try and catch the pillow, but she hesitates as she processes. Then, she tosses the pillow on the floor and sits on it.
