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He pushes me against the wall and locks me into one of those kisses again. All passion and need and pumped full of adrenaline and without meaning to I reach for the top button of his pants.
“Later, Katie,” he says, pulling my fingers away. His breath is ragged, his eyes full of fire. “I don’t think they saw us run in here, but we should go just in case. Come on. I want to show you something.”
He leads me through the dark building until we hit a staircase, and then we’re climbing again. A hundred flights of stairs, it feels like. Maybe a thousand. I lose count. Up and up and up, we climb. Until we hit the roof access door and he pulls me outside. By now, it’s getting lighter, and the world is starting to wake up. Blasts of light blues and yellows and oranges litter the sky, and I follow him to the edge of the building where he pulls me into his chest and faces me towards the city, leaning us against the metal railing circling the entire rooftop.
“Look at that,” he says, pointing to the white bricked building across the street where I can see his letters becoming more visible as the sky brightens.TAX THE RICH SO WE DON’T HAVE TO EAT THEM, it screams out boldly. And then below, in bright turquoise and outlined in more black,WE ARE THE 99%.
“You going to tell me what this is all about?” I ask.
He shrugs, pulling me in tighter. “Protests kick off at noon, I think. We shouldn’t be here when they start.”
“You’re… working with an activist group? They hired you?”
“We have an arrangement. Come on, don’t look at me like that,” he says, burying his face in my neck. “I was bored. You know how I get sitting in a studio all day. This seemed… I don’t know, important. None of my work feels like that these days. This felt… good. Like maybe for the first time in a long time I had something to say that was actually worth saying. Not just bullshit, you know? Something real.”
“Everything you say is worth saying, James. All of your work is real. It’s honest and raw. Always has been.That’swhat makes you brilliant. You’re good technically, but your pieces, they just… I don’t know. They’re alive.”
There’s a silence between us, and then he says, “Katie… I know we’re not exactly… I just want you to know that I—” he pauses, almost thinking better of what he was about to say. I look up at him. His eyes are like pools of black when we’re this close, and they’re hard not to get lost in. There’s this look on his face that I don’t quite understand though, that I’ve never seen before.
“What is it?”
He shakes his head and gives me a smile, a forced one this time. “Never mind.”
Before I can say anything else he pulls me into another kiss. A hungry one. One that tells me that he’s not going to stop. I feel the bulge in his groin pressing against my ass as our kiss deepens, and his hands wander over my body, moving over my breasts and my waist and my hips. He undoes my jeans and pulls them down.
We’re a frenzy of hands grabbing at each other’s clothes as the sun starts to rise and the world below starts to pick up. He bends me over the railing, facing the work we did, the crime we committed, all the black and the bold lines and that little bit of colour he’d added with the blue.
His hand slides between my legs and a laugh rumbles in his chest that reverberates through my back. “Dripping wet. All that excitement and danger always did turn you on. Want me to fuck you Katie?”
“Yes,” I gasp, but he’s already plunging inside me, and I call out at the suddenness. He doesn’t give me time to adjust to his thickness stretching me. He just fucks me. Hard and rough and like it’s going to be the last time.
James holds my hips and I grip the bar in front of me, taking every inch of him as he slams inside again and again. We don’t have to be quiet; we don’t have to hide. We’re up too high up for anyone to notice or care and we’re still so pumped with adrenaline that I don’t think either of us would be able to stop even if someone did see us.
He grabs my hand gripping the bar and puts it between my legs. “Make yourself come on my cock, Katie. Show me how much you love how I fuck you. Show me how much you love what we did tonight. Show me you’re mine.”
His.Always.
I move my fingers, circling and twirling them around my clit as he’d directed. He picks up his pace, thrusting his hips so hard against me that I almost can’t hold us steady against the railing. I circle faster and match his rhythm, and then I feel it, that release my body is so desperately chasing.
“God. James. Harder,” I say, and I don’t know how he could fuck me any harder, but he responds with another slam that almost knocks me off my feet. His fingers grip my hips, and he pummels into me with punishing thrusts over and over, and my legs are shaking, both from the impact of him slamming against me and the orgasm I feel starting to rush through me.
I say his name when I come, my eyes on the building across the street, on his words and his lines and his art. One that splash of colour and the two police cruisers I can still see circling below us. James lets out a grunt and jerks forward, spilling his release inside of me as he collapses onto my back.
“Fucking Jesus Kate,” he gasps out. “We are so fucking good together.”
We are. So good. So good I don’t know how I’ll ever say goodbye.
But I do say goodbye.
Because it’s somehow already Sunday. Because I don’t live here. Because he isn’t mine.
It’s 5 pm and I’m on a plane.
5
It’s3amandhe’s wasted.
Four days. It took four days for him to break me this time. Four days of silence, four days of me wondering. Four days for that post-James whiplash to set in.
