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He could have tried to stop me from going on stage, but he knew I wouldn’t agree. In fact, he said he wouldn’t dream of taking that opportunity away from me. Instead, he protected me with his body. Then, he used it to ensure we wouldn’t always be looking over our shoulders.
He killed the man who was responsible for both attempts on my life. My shoulders slump. I had been so angry when I’d realized he was alive. So upset at what he’d done. Now? I don’t know what to think. My head feels too heavy, my chest too painful. My shoulders are too tense and every part of me feels like it’s been put through the wringer. I walk over to the system in the corner and choose a piece of music that has never failed to move me.
The strains ofRehabby Amy Winehouse fill the space. I swipe out my legs, then my arms, twirl, then dip, before I shimmy. People thought the lyrics were about Amy’s fight with addictions, which it might well have been, but the tune and the arrangement of the music is far from depressing. Her defiant vocals turn it into something too irresistible. Too striking.
As far as personas go, she was the exact opposite of Elle Woods, but the two of them had something in common. They had a thirst for life. I often think Amy packed so much into that small frame of hers, singing her heart out when she was alive, burning brightly and too quickly, and then she was gone. It’s as if she lived so in the moment, so hard, that she just combusted one day.
As for Elle… She was the light to Amy’s darkness. The pink to Amy’s purple. The silver lining to Amy’s dark cloud. Maybe I have a bit of both of them in me, touched with that intensity that makes Plath's words irresistible. She was the ultimate feminist. And I am one, too... Except, when I’m in bed with him. Then, I want to be treated like a whore. I am a Jeanne, but I could well have been a Jade which is Amy Winehouse's middle name.
It doesn't escape me that two of my three idols committed suicide. And maybe that's why I’m so fond of Elle Woods. Her particular brand of sunshine balances out the darker thoughts that sometime cross my mind. Her... And the orgasms that Luca supplies in excess. Definitely, also the orgasms.
I perform a knee bend, then kick in the air, before bringing my legs together again on the ground, and again. I spin around the studio, move into a barrel turn, then kick my leg in a circular motion from in front of the other leg, up into the air at the full range of motion, over the head, and finally down in a resting position.
I strut forward, and again, cover the length of the floor, then leap forward arms up, knees bent, and land in front of the door, just as it’s wrenched open.
I straighten, panting, and find myself face to face with him. I’m not surprised. I expected him. In fact, I planned it so we’d meet here in the studio, instead of in either of our homes. I’d have been too vulnerable there.
Also, I didn’t want to make it too easy for him to find me. Which I knew he would. The music flows between us. Sweat slips down my temple.
I take a step forward until my breasts almost brush his chest. I tip up my chin, and draw in a deep breath, inhaling that dark chocolate and coffee scent of his. I raise my arms in tandem with the music, then shimmy down his body and up. I turn away, then lean back, and drape my outstretched arm over his shoulder. I slide down the length of his body, making sure my hips brush the thickness at his groin. I take a step back, then kick my leg up and hook my ankle around his neck.
He stares into my eyes. Those intense blue eyes of his blaze with regret, with heat, with lust, and with a plea deep in their depths that I resist.
I raise my arm, and slide my hand down his neck and his chest.
Without breaking my gaze, he bends, twists his arm under my hips, then straightens. He carries me across the floor to the center of the room, right in front of the mirror, where he lowers me to the floor. When he’s certain I have my balance, he moves back one step, then another. He circles his fingers around my ankle.
A spark flares to life in my core.
He glances up at me, then brushes his lips across the inside of my knee.
That spark in my core bursts into flames. I’m soaked and I know he knows it. I expect him to smirk.
Instead, he weaves his fingers through mine, assuring I have my balance. I pull my leg back. He takes a step forward, closing the distance between us until we are standing chest to chest. The music fades away, leaving only the sound of breathing in the room. His and mine.
My breasts swell. My nipples poke through the sports bra and the sleeveless T-shirt. The flesh between my legs throbs.
The air between us thickens with unsaid words, with the emotions that seem to vibrate off of him. A bead of sweat trickles down my back. Still, he holds my gaze. The silence stretches. A beat. Another. Every time I draw in a breath it seems to fan the fire that’s creeping through my veins.
Amy’s gone. She’ll never know what it is to grow old. Never get to experience life and love, in all its glory. Amy’s gone, but he’s here. He’s not dead.He’s not dead.He’s alive and vital. The blood pumping through his veins. Oxygen circulating through his lungs. His big body, warm and hard and so completely real. He’s here, with me. Everything he did was to protect me. Me. In the only way he knew.
"Jeanne," his voice comes out low, harsh. His throat moves as he swallows. "Jeanne." A pulse throbs at his temple. "I love you."
My palm connects with his cheek, and his head snaps back. His eyes flash, first with anger, which gives way to a searing need. His features grow fierce and then we both move.
Our mouths meet with such force, our teeth crash together. He thrusts his tongue inside my mouth and devours me. I wind my arms around his broad shoulders, pressing my breasts into his solid chest as I strain to get closer to him. He plants his big hands on my butt cheeks, taking big handfuls of my flesh. A moan spills from my lips and he swallows it. He lifts me up and I wind my legs around his waist. He turns, takes a few steps, and presses me into the mirror as he continues to kiss me. He grips the waistband of my yoga pants and shoves it down my legs, moving back enough to work it over my hips until it’s caught around my thighs. Then he undoes his belt, lowers his zipper, and thrusts into me. He fills me so suddenly, so completely, that my vision blurs.
Sparks flare up my spine and behind my eyes. He pushes into me so his cock slides even deeper inside, then pinches my clit so what little rational thought is left in my head fades. My brain cells seem to combust, and my thighs burn as I cling to him. I lock my ankles around him as he lunges into me over and over again. He rubs on my clit, and the orgasm dazzles out from the point where he’s connected to me. The ball of sensations at the base of my spine tightens, then folds in on itself. He pins me to the mirror with his cock, then winds his fingers around my throat. He presses down enough for my breath to catch. All the time, he’s watching me with those sky-blue eyes of his. He pulls out just enough that his dick rims my opening. Just enough for my belly to flip, and my pussy to clench down on the nothingness. For my thighs to spasm as I dig my heels into his waist and try to draw him closer.
He chuckles then, the awful, awful man. Black spots at the edges of my vision flicker. He still holds back. His pressure around my throat increases. The last dregs of air filtering through to my lungs disappear. The darkness bleeds across my vision. My body twitches, my core weeps. It feels like I am having an out of body experience. A part of me seems to slip out of my skin to float up to the ceiling and look down on myself spread around his cock.
Then, he plunges into me. He impales me. Buries himself inside me with such force that his balls slap my flesh. He hits that place deep inside of me that only he can. My orgasm ignites out from that point of contact. It creeps up my spine. That’s when he removes his fingers from around my throat. I gasp and my eyes widen. I try to draw in a breath as the climax booms through me, gathering speed and velocity and growing bigger, so much bigger. Until it consumes me. Spreads to every part of my body and crashes behind my eyes. He continues to fuck me through it. In-out-in, he rams his shaft into me. Each time he touches that point deep inside, my entire body jolts. My back bows off the mirror. He slides his palm behind my head, cushioning me. He feeds his cock to me one last time, then his muscles tense. I feel his body go solid, feel the planes of his chest contract. His dick pulses inside me, and with a hoarse cry, he pours himself inside me.
I assume I black out for a few seconds. I blink my eyes and find his hands are under my butt as he holds me close. His chest rises and falls. His jaw is hard, but his eyes are soft and worried.
"Are you okay?" he whispers.
"I hate you," I choke out, then I slap him again.
