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want that?”
“Do it. Take me.”
I held myself up on his shoulders as he undid his jeans, releasing his
cock and positioning it to enter me.
“Don’t.” He jammed inside me, stretching me open. “Don’t ever dare
me to own you.” He pushed again. “Once this cunt is mine”—with one last
thrust, he was in to the core, so deep I existed only where we were joined
—“it’s mine to wreck.”
I meant to make words, but I only found the vowels, and with every
thrust, I found more. My world was his dick. The night was his voice. My
life was the growing sensation between my legs as he stretched me, pushing
his body against my nub as I clawed at his shirt.
“You want to come,” he growled, driving hard.
“Yes.”
“I want to know you.”
“Okay. Please. Go.”
Rolling his hips, pushing to the base with thrusts so deep and hard, he
touched places I didn’t know I had. He grunted right before I exploded into
a cone of light and dark, blindness and vision, where the silence was as loud
as a siren.
The world came back in stages. The sound of cars whooshing by on
Highland. The smell of his cologne. The feel of his lips on my neck. The
ache in my thighs.
He eased me down to a standing position and kissed my lips. “Let’s get
out of here before the neighbors call the cops.”
We scrambled back into the warehouse as if the cops were chasing us.
He dropped the bag and came for me again as if fucking against the
back of the billboard hadn’t satisfied his hunger. As soon as he touched me,
I knew it hadn’t satisfied mine either. We groped each other’s clothes,
attached at the mouth, unbuttoning, unzipping, grasping for bare skin,
finally naked when we fell onto the bed and rolled around like wrestlers on
my little mattress.
We hadn’t defaced much. Hadn’t gotten caught or faced consequences,
and yet it was enough. He didn’t just accept me or tolerate who I was. He
embraced how different we were and had dared to experience a little of my
life.