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For thirty minutes he holds me in the backseat, not saying anything, simply holding me. When we finally pull up to the mansion and make it into the house, he doesn’t put me down. He carries me up the stairs and into the bedroom. I know that I should say something. Slap him. Call him an asshole. A prick. A heartbreaker...something. At the very least I should run for the door and never look back, but I am frozen. Stuck in a block of ice, surrounded by what used to be a lively, beating heart, but is now a nonfunctioning shell of heartache. The funny thing is, I hadn't realized how much of my heart I had given him until this moment. All of it.
“Flower, look at me. Please tell me what happened.” he removes my clothes, one article at a time, kissing me, rubbing my back. I don’t have it in me to react. I honestly couldn’t tell you what I feel right now besides numb. “Lilah, damn it, look at me. You do not get to speak to another man about whatever the hell happened but then block me out.” The descension in his voice gets my attention. I almost want to laugh. How funny is it that he thinks he has the right to tell me what I can and can’t do when he has been lying to me this entire time?
Everything that happens next is in slow motion, like having an out body experience while watching the Matrix. I see my hand slap him across the face, but I can’t stop it from happening. “I see.” is all he says. Standing, he begins removing his clothes, never looking away from me. I can feel the pulse in my neck quickening as my breathing becomes labored. Against my volition, my body responds to his actions, waiting, anticipating what’s coming. Run stupid. The voice in my head is screaming. Don’t sit here and be the prey. The stupid girl that can’t take a hint. My mind is the smart one. The one that is trying to save whatever dignity I have left. But it is my traitorous body that is winning. The one that is calling the shots. My nipples are hard and aching, craving his mouth and those pinches of pain from being bitten and sucked like juice from a fruit. My pussy is pulsing in sync with my neck, leaking all over the bed, waiting for this man, this lying cheating gorgeous man to make her feel, scream, and stretch. “You need it rough, baby? Have I been too gentle with you?” my entire body is buzzing, shaking as I prepare for him. Gripping his cock, he walks to me, standing over me like a giant. His cock, pointing at my mouth, one of its favorite places to be. He grabs the back of my head and pulls me toward his cock. “If you won’t use your mouth to speak to me, then use it to suck me. Open!” I push against his thighs, feigning resistance for my own conscience, a way to soothe the inner me that is protesting against this, yelling for me to walk away, but we both know I won’t. I am addicted.
My mouth opens, no longer pretending I don’t want…no…need this right now. I do. I need him to tell me it was all a lie. Tell me he isn’t getting married to her and that everything he has said to me has been the truth. I need to know that what I am feeling, what he has made me feel is real and mutual. He pushes further into my mouth, hitting the back of my throat. I have learned how to breathe through my nose and swallow, allowing him to go further. My eyes fill with tears and my nose begins to run as he suffocates me, restricting my air flow. “Fuck, I am going to spend the next fifty years breaking your tiny throat in. Look at how beautiful you look crying and distressed. This is what you needed isn’t it?” He pushes in a couple more times and then pulls out.
I am gasping for air, holding my chest, and crying. Torn between what my mind is saying and what my heart knows. He pushes me back into the bed and climbs over me. His eyes are pleading with me to talk to him, tell him and confide in him, but I am afraid. I am scared of what it means if I lay it out in the open, raw, and unfiltered, obliterating what’s left of the shell I have protecting me from heartbreak.
His mouth touches mine as he slides inside of me, slowly and with care. We rock against each other, love passing from one to another. “My flower, please tell me what took the light from your eyes.” I can’t speak right now. I just want to feel how he moves inside of me, hitting places I didn’t know existed.
