I hated him. He was everything bad that happened to me.
But he was the only time—other than dancing—that I felt alive, too.
Being with him was like dancing. Dancing with death.
After a few more moments and the room had fallen quiet again, I hugged my knees to my chest again.
“I know you’re there,” I told him to wherever he was standing in the room. Where I always knew he was standing, because the house was heavy, it was too quiet, and I could smell the cloves on his clothes, the fountain on his skin, and the hot on his breath.
“And now you know…” I said, “I always close my eyes when I come.”
In high school, he’d asked if I closed my eyes in pleasure, and now he had his answer.
He didn’t move, and neither did I. I no longer cared. I was tired of wondering what he’d do. Now he was wondering what I could do.
This was a game to him, and that was fine.
He just wasn’t the only one playing anymore.
Damon
Present
I leaned over the bathtub, my hands gripping the sides and hovering less than a foot from her mouth as I watched her masturbate.
Jesus Christ. She was beautiful.
And mine. All mine whether she fucking liked it or not. She’d do this for me. Only for me from now on.
A lock of hair spilled down her face, getting sucked between her lips and back out again every time she panted.
Mine. This was why I tolerated Arion. Because her little sister was my favorite little cunt. God, look at her.
Her body waving and hips rolling, her tits bouncing, her legs spread wide and hanging over the rim of the tub… The trickle of water teased her little clit, and I ran my tongue across the backside of my teeth, wanting to be the water and taste what it tasted and do to her what it was doing.
She danced even when she wasn’t on her feet.
She rode it out, fucking and coming as she threw her head back and moaned, and I dropped my eyes down her body, remembering all that I had touched and taking in the new in all the years that had passed. The same taut tummy and toned thighs. The same tight, round ass and tits, nipples poking straight out and built to be sucked.
But her hair was longer now, a few more muscles in her stomach and legs, and her pussy… The tightest thing I’d ever been inside of. She was a woman. I wouldn’t have to be gentle with her this time.
I raised my eyes to her face again, cocking my head and watching her eyebrows etched in pleasure and pain and wanting to kiss her so I could taste the sweat above her top lip.
Did she think about me? Did she do this a lot? Was she dying for it that badly? Did it feel as good as having a man between her legs?
It had been so long since I was spent like she looked now.
She lowered herself back into the tub, tucking her knees up to her chest again, and calmed her breathing.
No, do it again. My dick was so hard, and if I slid it inside her right now, how wet would she be? God, what was she doing to me? Do it again.
“I know you’re there,” she said.
And I shot my eyes up to her eyes, seeing her stare off at nothing, serene and resolute.
“And now you know…” she went on. “I always close my eyes when I come.”
I remained there, the fire in my body a moment ago now turning to ice. She knew I was here. She’d known from the start. I thought it was odd she left the door open. I just assumed she thought she was alone in the house. Can’t fault me for watching what happens in plain sight.