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"Drex…"
I suck and nibble at her, feeling her growing wetter. Her moans are getting louder as I caress her other breast, rolling her nipple between my fingers.
I thrust into her harder, and she moans louder, her walls tightening around me. It's too much, and I have to slow down or I'm going to come again, and I don't want that. I want this moment to last forever.
I rock my hips into her, taking my time, making her feel every inch of me. I want her to know that she is mine. I want her to feel my love for her, but I can't say the words.
"I want more, Drex," she whispers, and I can tell by the look in her eyes that she does.
I pick her up and roll over so that she's lying on her back. I'm still inside her, and she's still wet enough to allow me to rock into her, plunging deep into her waiting heat.
9
SOPHIA
“So they’re ready to harvest?” I ask Isa on our way out of the house. “You don’t think it's too soon?”
“No way. I think we’ve waited long enough. I borrowed a synthetic food dehydrator, but just for tonight.” It’s business as usual between Isa and me. At least, it looks that way.
We step into the sunshine, hats on our heads and gloves on our hands. Rescued from the blight, the sheebangs are now ripe for picking. Along with the munga and some wild onion I found last week, we are sure to have a good meal tonight, with bread for Mama.
As we bend over the sheebangs, plucking them from their trellis and placing them into baskets, I have the creeping suspicion that Isa’s got her eye on me. It's been quiet for a while now. Too quiet.
“I noticed you didn’t eat much this morning.” Her voice is tepid and certainly less direct than usual. I know what she’s really asking.
“Yes, I had a nice time with him.” I don't want to give her too much. Not yet. I woke this morning feeling bubble-wrapped and cozy, him dozing in my tiny bed like a giant. I woke and had him out of the house before anyone could see.
It's not that I thought Isa would be rude to him, not in the least. But until I knew more about this feeling inside me, I wanted to keep it untouched.
There’s this significant pull I feel when I'm with him. I've dated before and even had some relationships I thought were serious, but this is different. I feel it in my bones. It takes my breath away if I think about it, making me lightheaded and dizzy. I want to tell her everything, but whatever this feeling is, it’s a bubble I'm not ready to burst.
It’s certainly a strange feeling, nestled deep in my chest and unreachable but still so, so real. Every time I go to grab it, take it in my two hands, and finally inspect it like a child inspects an insect, it flies away.
Whenever I so much as think of Drex’s face, it’s there. Like a warm night light I’m seeing for the first time. The shape is strange, maybe a little unsettling, but I know that it’s glowing for me.
I don’t know how I could possibly explain it to anyone else.
For now, silence takes us both over along with the drumming of insects in the midday sun. It’s hot this time of year, unusual for the harvest time, but war in the sky means everything was unusual. It has me thinking about Drex and where I could possibly fit into his life.
“So I take it we’ll be seeing more of him, then?” she finally asks, handing me a new basket.
“It's possible.” I smile back at her, hoping my face will say everything so I can say nothing at all. Despite everything I’ve ever said about girls who chase soldiers, I think I'm falling in love with one. I can’t help myself. I want him like I've never wanted anything before.
I’m pulled back into last night and the feel of his scales against my skin. At the thought of his touch, a warm sensation spreads from my core, sending a shiver up into my shoulder blades. I can't remember if I've ever had sex like that.
“You think he’ll be around very long?” A sobering reminder from Isa. Our time together, like Armstong itself, is yet uncertain.
“I can only hope.” It kills me not to be wholly open with her, especially after last night. I'm bursting to spill the tea, but the look in her eye unnerves me.
What Drex and I have is so new, I’m afraid anything could crack it. I button my lip knowing I will tell her soon, but there’s a hope inside me I haven't dared let myself dream of. It's too complicated. It would never work. It’s a fantasy, and if I dared speak it, Isa would see through to the scene I've created for myself in my mind.
“I think we have enough now.” There’s frustration in her voice. I'm holding back, and she knows it.
“Let’s get them washed up and dried. We have a few hours until dinner.” I try to pull her back into a sense of normalcy. “Mama will be so excited! We haven't had bread for months.”
Around us, we have seven bushels of sheebangs, more than enough for a week’s worth of bread. Taking them in the house, we get them washed and placed into the dehydrator. They light up inside it like tiny fires, flashing red hot in our faces.
“Takes an hour,” she says, setting the timer. “Oh, shit. I almost forgot. The yeast! I have to meet Harriet at the banks at six sharp. You wouldn't believe the strings I had to pull just to find some.”
