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Thehissof a second. The stutter of time. The stammer of pain stopped and fear unbegun. A pause, unsolicited by me, hangs in the air. There’s no protection, no latex— he’s bare.
My eyes flutter open to find him shirtless, his fingers in his mouth, slurping me up. His enlarged member twitching its approval. It feels right. So right. That I give him the green light because I’m not afraid.
Trembling fingers glide over rough skin —my fingers, his skin— and slide over the tight material of his jeans, hanging open to the sides. The teeth of his zipper grind against his testicles, that wiggle in desperation of being set free. His member twitches in approval with every stroke of my fingers. Smooth.
“I want you, Styx.” Those words come naturally, probably because I’ve said them hundreds of times before, but this is the first time he hears them.
The head of his cock pokes at my entrance. “I’m clean, Snow. The hospital tested me for everything.”
I don’t want to have this conversation, not now. But I get his worry. “Me too.”
“Are you on the pill?”
“No,” I mumble and shut my eyes again, recalling the events that brought me to rock bottom, and lose my words.
“Snow...” He caresses my cheek, like he cares about the thoughts running in my mind— like he gives a damn.
Dam...of tears I’m too stunned to release. Too overwhelmed to share.
“Mom doesn’t sell condoms, but I don’t want to stop,” he whispers as he lifts my chin up to see his eyes. The warmth emanating from them, the tremble between my thighs is enough to touch the truth. With our bodies so close, he can sense my heart beating irregularly and the broken breaths of my ravaged heart. “The call is yours.”
“It’s okay…. I c-can’t have k-kids.”
When his lips touch mine, they’re so kind. So gentle. So accepting that it nearly brings the tears out. Part of the reason I didn’t date was because I wasn’t complete. Wasn’t enough to be someone’s wife. Saying it to someone, like now, is like confirming we aren’t serious. I’m not settle down material.
“You think that changes what I think of you?” He brings his lips to my nipples again, still a little sore from the clamps, and soothes them with his cool breath before releasing them from their hold. The sensation comes over me like melted chocolate in a lava cake.
“You don’t think much of me.”
“That’s where you’re wrong.” He guides himself inside me and stops, allowing me to adjust to his girth. “I barely know you, Snow, and already I want to save you.”
Lovebite
NEVE
I have no idea how much time had passed, but my stomach rumbles. No light comes from the outside, which means Pink Street is about to come alive, and I’m going to have to face the blunt truth.
I’m fucked.
Not the thoroughly satisfied—still not quite sure I’m not dreaming—kind offexed.
Theunalivedkind.
The one where breathing is past tense and existence fragments a timeline, where the senses become imagination and memories only remain if someone’s left to remember.
No one will miss me when I’m gone.
Only Mama Rosa, and she probably doesn’t even know I exist anymore.
“What are you thinking?” Styx asks as he lifts my chin up to meet his gaze.
I shut my eyes and force a yawn, mostly to hold back the tears. “Nothing.”
