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"I'm going to come," I say, and stop, but he kept thrusting.
"Keep going," he says, and I tense as the sweetness overcomes me, my body spasming around him and then he does something to me, like a time shift when I’m fighting, and my orgasm goes on and on. He turns me over and in my delirium, I wrap my legs around his waist and lie back, my eyes closed as he starts thrusting fast and hard and soon he comes as well, his mouth by my ear, grunting with each thrust.
Later, as we lie in each other’s arms, he kisses me and runs his fingers through my hair, the ends still damp from the bath.
"I have to go."
I frown. "Where?"
He shakes his head.
"No questions. I just have to go."
I bite back another question. I was going to ask him how long he'd be gone.
He rolls off the bed and goes to the bathroom. I lie there, my feelings conflicted. I want to throw something at him, I want to ask him to stay. I realize that neither would be appropriate. I crawl under the covers instead.
He emerges fully dressed in a few moments, putting his tie back on, his jacket over his arm. He stops at the bedside and stands for a moment, tying the knot in his tie. He leans over and kisses me. "Next time, we'll smoke a little pot. I want to see you stoned again."
Then he’s gone.
I lie back and rub my eyes. There are no tears. Frustration, some anger. But my body feels so well used.
It will have to be enough for now.
Chapter 16
“Love takes off masks that we fear we cannot live without and know we cannot live within.”
James A. Baldwin
THE NEXT NIGHT, JULIEN RETURNS, sitting on the bed beside me, waking me up from a dead sleep. I turn over and face him and he smiles, brushing hair off my face.
I smile back.
“That’s what I want to see,” he says, running the backs of his fingers over my cheek. He leans down and nuzzles my neck, licking his bite mark, which is almost healed. The touch of his tongue on my skin sends a shock of lust through me, and I want him immediately. I think he’s going to have sex with me, but he doesn’t. He just sits there, smiling at me, running his fingers through my hair.
“Sorry I’m waking you so late but I had work to do.”
“That’s OK.”
“Get up,” he says and takes my hand. He pulls me out of bed and leads me over to the seating area in the living room. This time, he doesn't pull me down onto his lap as he has on other occasions. He just sits down and looks at me expectantly.
"Sit," he says finally.
I sit on the couch beside him.
"How are you?" he says, and runs his hand down my arm to my hand, which he squeezes.
"Fine. How are you?" I say.
"Never better."
We sit for a moment, looking at each other, each of us waiting for the other to speak. He leans back, one elbow resting on the armrest, his chin in his hand and watches me for a moment.
"Oh, I brought something for us." He goes to the coat tree and removes something from a pocket in his coat. A bag of dope and some paraphernalia. He sits back down and holds it out in front of me, smiling. "Something to lighten the mood."
"Oh, no, thanks," I say and shake my head. "The other night was enough."
