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Faster now, she slides up and down, riding my cock hard and rough as she snakes her fingers through my hair. I feel her nails scratch into the side of my neck when she comes again, and I watch her face. Her fucking perfect face as she rides out her orgasm on my dick. And I blow inside of her just because of that fucking face and that perfect, wet pussy.
“My ring,” she whispers against my lips.
I dig my hand into my jeans and hold it up. She stares at it, the thing she betrayed, the promise she broke because of me. And I’ll always make her break it. I’ll never stop.
She pauses a beat before speaking again, and then she says, “Last time James.” And this time I think she means it. Iknowshe means it by the kiss she lays on my lips. It’s a goodbye. And when she finally gets off me and kicks me out, I think she believes that, that it’s the last time, but her and I both know that goodbye has never stuck with us.
This time is no different. Which is why I don’t head back to my dad’s place to sleep in my empty, single-sized bed. I get to work.
Something thatinspires.
Katie inspires.
I work the rest of the night and well into the morning to lay out my new outline.
And then I paint.
I don’t see Katie again. Not all week as I finish. But I know she’s near. I know she’s stopped to stare because she likes watching me work. I know she needs to see it, what I’ve come up with, what fucking her in that car thatlast timehelped me see.
I saw colour. Just colour.
“It’s more than I would have ever hoped for, Mr. Ryan,” Professor Kim says as she stares up at my piece.
It’s an ode to art. To paint. It’s artists wielding brushes like an army, telling their stories, speaking their truths. It’s blotches of colour and spray. It’s blond hair wrapped in sunshine slinking across every inch of the building. It’s Kate.
“Thanks,” I say with a smile. But the only smile I want to see ishers.“Any idea where Kate is?”
“I think she had a dress fitting,” she says, and she regards my work again before giving me a reproachful look. “For the wedding.” There’s a tone to her voice that tells me she recognizes the face in my art, that she disapproves of my blatant disregard for Kate’s upcoming nuptials, of my obvious obsession. Because she’s almost married. But I never really put too much intoalmost.“Can you stay for the press? Quick interview tonight at the showcase.”
I nod. “Yeah, sure.”
“You can stop by the office to drop off your invoice.”
“No charge, Kim.Where?”
“The… office?”
“No. Kate. The address,” I say curtly, my patience waning.
“I… the bridal shop on Cedar Street. Did you say no charge? You can’t be serious.”
I don’t stick around for the conversation. I need Kate. Kate, Kate, Kate. Always on my fucking mind. Always what I need. I was serious, about bringing her back with me, about our living and fucking and painting and just being together. The shop isn’t far, and I barge in and bark at the saleswoman to bring me to her and then I’m opening the door to the dressing room and locking it behind me.
Kate whirls around. “James!” she practically shouts. She’s in all white. Some lace number that’s tight to her body with too much material and a big skirt.
“Take that fucking thing off.”
She grits her teeth. “James—”
“I love you Kate.”
She stills, her anger quickly dissolving. “I… what?”
“I love you,” I say again, and she still says nothing back, her face a mix of shock and confusion. Because I’ve never said it. Not to anyone. Not since I was eleven and my mom left. I’d always had the thought that love wasn’t real. It didn’t matter. It’s fleeting. It disappears. But Kate has never disappeared. It’s me who’s always leaving. And I’m done with that now. No more living without her, no more leaving.
I step towards her. “Here’s what’s gonna happen, Katie. I’m going to fuck you in this dress, and then you’re gonna go have a hard conversation with your fiancé with my cum still dripping out of your cunt. Then you’re gonna go home and pack your shit and we’re catching the red eye back to LA tonight.”
Kate is still frozen, her eyes steady on mine. “You… you love me.”
