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My heart is telling me it’s Damien but my mind is telling me it’s not.
He grabs my chin and jerks my face towards his. I wish I could see him. I wish could gaze into his eyes and get lost there because I can feel them on my skin. I can feel the wicked way they’re devouring my body. Suddenly he smothers my lips with his and I become so wrapped up with the way his tongue is teasing mine that I forget my name. What I’m doing. The part of me that has been questioning who this man is.
He shoves me back onto the smooth surface and my back hits it, hard. The blunt force almost knocks the wind out of my lungs and I stare up at this strange man who is ravishing me with wide eyes. He’s rough. And I’m surprised—mostly at myself—by how much I like it. I struggle to find words. My breathing is shallow. Unsteady. Finally I manage, “What are you doing?”
The man lets out a pleasureful yet hungry sigh and trails his fingers down the length of my body. Goosebumps arise and I arch my back in response to his touch. There’s a throaty groan rumbling in my ears and I’m not sure if he is making that sound or if I am. He hooks his arm through the curve of my back as he crawls onto the surface with me. Then he pulls me into his lap, gently licks my lips, and tucks a piece of my loose hair behind my ear.
This man does something crazy to me. Blurred face and all. I’m at the point where I don’t care who he is. I don’t care where we are or if this might only be a dream. All I want is for him to lie me down on this surface and make sweet, sweet, love to me. I want him to set my heart ablaze. Send me into a passionate oblivion. And turn my world upside down.
He’s being gentle now. Touching my face. Brushing his lips against mine. His mouth tastes like honey and I want to swallow it. Guzzle it down by the jarful I pull away from him and his fingers grip my chin. “Where do you think you’re going?” His voice is light-hearted. Amused.
“You never answered my question,” I tell him.
“Remind me again,” he whispers into my ear before tracing my jawline with his teeth, “what was it?”
I lie flat and he hovers on top of me, spreading my legs with a gentle push. I run my fingers through his hair and something feels off. He answers my question when he thrusts inside of me and lies down on top of me. Our legs intertwined. Breathing raspy. Bodies sticky with heat and moisture.
He moves inside of me. At first it’s slow and I hike my legs up in response when his hips melt into mine. Then he positions his lips over top of mine and breathes into my mouth, “I’m going to fuck you, Adelaide.”
I can’t respond because the way his hips are grinding against mine send me into a frenzy of a delicious pleasure so intense all I can do is moan.
“Would you like that, Adelaide?” he asks.
My reply is a moan.
His thrusts quicken and I bite my lip, crying out. I’m so twisted, so lost, so racked with passion that it feels like it’s about to explode inside of me. My eyes center on this man’s chest as he becomes more forceful and my body begins sliding across the surface of the object I’m on. Realization hits me. It doesn’t matter what my heart was telling me because no I know this man is not Damien.
Damien has a tiny scar just below his left shoulder blade. This man doesn’t. Damien has a small patch of hair along his breast bone. This man’s chest is soft and smooth and the only hair he has is a happy trail down the length of his stomach.
He hunches over me, clinging to me, breathing into my ear, pressing his lips to mine. And thrusting and thrusting and thrusting. There’s a huge debate sounding off inside of my head. Part of me keeps wondering what the hell I’m doing. A voice keeps hissing at me, How could you do this to Damien? He’d never do this to you. But there’s another bigger part of me that’s screaming, don’t fight it. Let go. If this was wrong it wouldn’t feel so right.
The man on top of me grunts out my name with another deep thrust and I gasp out in a highpitched voice as I dig my nails into his back. Suddenly I feel like I’m hovering over a deep ravine, looking down, trying to locate the bottom. Someone pushes me. I fall. My limbs flail. Waves of fear slosh around in my belly. At the same time a free, liberating feeling whips through me and even though I’m plummeting downward faster and faster I feel like I’m being thrust upward. I feel like I’m flying.
The man I’m screwing in this wet dream of mine gives one final thrust before heaping over on top of me. Our chests rise together as we steady our breathing. Something about everything that just happened makes me feel complete. Like somewhere deep down inside of me I get the gut feeling that I know this man and that maybe I was supposed to be making love to him.
But what about Damien?
I promised myself that I’d love him forever. That I’d let him keep my heart. I promised him no other man would ever make me feel the way he does. And here is this stranger, who has so many familiarities. A man I swear that I feel connected to somehow.
“I love you, Adelaide,” he murmurs as he picks himself up off me and smoothes my
damp hair away from my forehead.
If he loves me, I must know him. For God’s sake I wish that the blurriness on his face would disappear. I involuntarily respond, “I love you too.” Then I clamp my hand over my mouth. It’s almost like I can’t control what I’m saying, feeling or doing around this man. Shock works its way through me as I sit up and watch my lover get dressed.
This man is not Damien, and I know this, but I feel like I have to clarify it with myself several times before the thoughts actually sink in.
So then I have to ask myself one question; If this man is not, Damien, then who the hell is he?
Terror, deep vibrating terror thunders in my chest and rips me from the land of dreams. My legs tremble. My heart pounds so hard, it nearly catapults out of its cavity. My breaths are clogged in my throat, bogged down from a raw feeling, and the thick, mucus-like saliva that coats the walls of my esophagus.
I go to clutch my chest, but I can’t. I twist my shoulders, but it’s like the whole upper portion of my body has been mummified. My eyes drift down my abdomen. Oh no. Panic begins to set in when I try to move, but really can’t, the white material from the straight jacket fades in and out of focus in my eyes and the jingling noise from the metal restraints echoes in my ears. My panic is replaced with fear because I can’t imagine what I might have done. Who I might have hurt. Or when and if the staff is having a meeting at this very moment, trying to decide what they’re going to do with me.
For a second I swear the light dangling above my head flickers. I swear tortured shrieks vibrate through the walls. I can already hear the electricity humming in my head. I can taste the cotton as it’s shoved into my mouth. I can feel the electricity as it zips through my cranium and fries my mind.
No.
Not the basement. I won’t let them take me there. I’ll never let them take me there.
