“Just for you. It’s all just for you.” I barely get the words out, still struggling to breathe. In a forceful stroke, Seth enters me, brutally and with a blinding pleasure that has me screaming his name. My nails dig into the sheets and a cold sweat layers every inch of my skin. He waits a moment, his forearm brushing my shoulder until his front is against my back. Simply hovering over me, touching me although his weight doesn’t push me down.
“You were made for me,” he whispers at the shell of my ear, slipping his hand between my hip and the bed, not stopping until his fingers brush my clit. “This is how you did it?” he questions.
“Yes,” I answer quickly and honestly.
He circles my clit and I bury my face into the sheets, moaning low in my throat from the sweet, decadent pull in my core. Bringing me closer to the edge once again. Just as a sheen of heat lifts from my body, as the coiled pleasure threatens to burst, Seth thrusts his hips, never relenting in the attention he pays to my swollen and sensitive nub. And again, and again. Picking up his pace and steadily fucking me deep and raw and possessively.
I have to bite down on the sheets. I try to move away from him; it’s all too much. At the same time, I want more, I want him deeper, I want to feel him pulsing inside of me.
“Seth.” The only word I can say is his name. Even the friction between my breasts and the sheets is igniting as he ruthlessly fucks me from behind.
He made his point with the first thrust. He made his point without even touching me. I know I can never have what he gives me with anyone else, let alone my own touch. He doesn’t stop though, not until my voice is hoarse and raw, my body and lips tingling with a heated sensation that feels like it will last forever.
Seth
Parked in the lot across from the Rockford Center, the police station is about a mile down the road and easily monitored. From here, in the driver side of my car with the window rolled down, the cop cars come and go, seemingly insignificant at a distance. I remember a time when I’d get anxious from just the thought of one.
Time changes a lot of things.
An old man in blue jeans and a thin dark gray hoodie mows the circular patch of grass out front of the large cement building directly in front of me.
Other than the small garden of roses on either side of the sidewalk that divides the grass, there’s no color at all. The upper half of the three-story building is painted gray. The lower half is the same shade as cement.
Men and women go in and out of the Rockford Center, but the police station is far busier. There’s only been a handful of nurses, out on smoke breaks, the mailman and now the gardener taking up residence out here. Even the parking lot is barren. Employees park around back and that leaves only myself and one other parked car with no one occupying it in this lot.
It’s an odd choice to plant roses in a place like this.
It reminds me of a book we had to read in school, I Never Promised You a Rose Garden. It was about some girl in a place like this. I didn’t read it, Laura did though. She cried at the end. I wonder if she likes the roses out front, or if they make her want to cry like the book did.
The smell of freshly cut grass hits me as the breeze drifts into the car. Picking up the paper bag next to me, I realize the sandwich inside it isn’t quite hot anymore. It’s still warm though.
I must’ve been sitting out here for longer than I realized. At least the coffee is still hot. I picked up everything from the corner diner by the bar; they have the best coffee in town. It’s something sweet, caramel drizzle, or some shit like that, for Laura.
She may have eaten lunch already. I don’t know. My phone’s been in my hand, the bag on the passenger seat, and all the while, I’ve just been sitting here, watching, not going in.
The flowers have fucked with my head more than they should. They’re just too much like the ones I gave her. It’s unsettling. It feels like a sign or something. A signal that what we’re doing is wrong. That it’s not supposed to be this way.
I always knew I’d see Laura again, talk to her. Sometimes my thoughts would be only of a moment. One moment where we recognized each other and maybe even kissed, but never more than that.