Then he's on top of me, easing into me, whispering dirty promises in my ear.
It hurts, but not as badly as Gia told me it would.
The pain fades to discomfort.
To pleasure.
To the thrill of knowing that Dean and I are one.
He takes care of me. Makes sure I come.
It feels like we go forever.
We finish. He he
lps me dress. Promises to stay in touch.
Never does.
He doesn't text, or call, or email, or IM.
The next week, he graduates.
And I spend seven years without hearing a peep from Dean Maddox.