by Portia Moore
“Come on, you know you want to…” she sings. And I do.
“Picture yourself somewhere far from here, the sun is hot, you have a super hot girl on your right. There’s a cold drink on your left, and the world has endless possibilities.” I feel her breath on my cheek. It’s warm and smells like the Jolly Ranchers I tasted on her earlier.
“That’s where we want to go…” her whisper turns into a song, one I remember hearing on the Muppets when I was a kid.
She pulls me up by the hand and we dance right there on the beach. This crazy, impulsive, beautiful woman in a t-shirt and jeans, that I first met in leather tight pants and high heels, has not one shred of embarrassment of who’s watching us. And I love it. I start to sing along with her and we dance and her smile is bright and beautiful, and I want to capture it as the sunlight hits her face in just the right way.
“Hold on.”
I run and grab my camera from my bag.
“What are you doing?” she asks with a hesitant giggle.
“I have to take a picture of you.” She rolls her eyes and swats me playfully on the chest.
“No, seriously. It’s sort of what I do,” I tell her, and she looks at me surprised.
“You’re a photographer?”
“Hoping to be one day.”
“Well maybe one day I’ll let you take a photo of me,” she teases, turning her face away from me.
I walk closer to her and give her a smile that would make most girls sign away their name to me.
“You get three snaps,” she says, flashing me a wicked smile that I want to hold forever in my mind.
The sun is setting and the background is beautiful, but it’s not the best lighting. With some adjustments later on, she should be happy with them.
“And they better be good.”
She immediately starts to pose like someone on a Vogue magazine, with a splash of Maxim.
“No,” I tell her. “Be natural, you’re already beautiful. I just want to capture that.” A small hint of heat flushes her face and she walks backwards and towards the ocean, her hair flowing in the wind.
“I’m being natural,” she sings as she turns toward me. When she laughs I snap a picture.
“You’re so weird,” she giggles. She runs her hand through her hair and I snap another picture.
“If you sell these I want a commission, pretty boy,” she adds. I wink at her and she spins around like she’s a kid, and I snap another one.
“Only one more. I want to get in the water,” she tells me, as she starts to take her shirt off. It’s cool for a summer night but if she takes off her clothes I’ll be damned if I leave mine on, even though it’s going to be a lot harder to get them off.
“Your turn,” she says in a daring tone. Her eyes glide up my body and for the first time in my life I’m the prey instead of the predator. I pull my shirt over my head and toss it. A small grin is on her lips and lust in her eyes. It makes working a hard-ass factory job and working out every day worth it. The sun is setting. I press my hand on the skin above her underwear and trace it with my finger.
“White?” I ask her, my heart thumping in my chest. Every inch of her is beautiful, and the nice guy that I’ve tried to be is threatening to crumble. She bites her lip.
“Why, you don’t think I’m innocent?” Her fingers begin tracing a tattoo on my chest. Every inch of flesh she drags her finger across feels like it’s on fire. She’s toying with me, coaxing me out, begging me to come out and play.
“I can only hope right?” She gives me a sneaky grin before taking off and running to the water. I take off my jeans and run behind her. It’s not super cold but the Chicago wind is no joke and shocks my body for a moment until my attention comes to her, all long legs, curves, dark wet hair draping her creamy skin. Her long eyelashes are wet and her face flushed as she comes up from under the water. She swims further out and I follow her. She’s beautiful, and looks ethereal, like a creature dropped in the ocean just for me. We were meant to collide together that day. She’s what I’ve been searching for and didn’t even know it.
“I have a confession,” she whispers.
It’s just her and me, and every thought of what I want to do to her as we both keep afloat.
“I’m not innocent,” she tells me, wrapping her arms around my neck. I lift her up by her ass and bring her to my cock. She kisses me desperately, her tongue diving into my mouth as and I dominate hers into submission. She presses herself against me, and we can’t be close enough. Her kisses are addictive and I need more.
“Come out,” she whispers in my ear. I throw my head back in disbelief of this woman.
“What?” I ask her, before claiming her mouth with mine again.
“Come out of your cage. I want to play,” she purrs, but instantly lets me go and starts swimming backwards towards the beach. I follow her, catching up right before she climbs out of the water. I pull her to me, our bodies crashing together, our tongues battling again. I guide her onto the sand but she pushes her body against mine so she’s on top of me. She wraps one arm around my neck and her hand goes down to my boxers, slipping inside of them, but I grab it and pin it behind her. She’s controlled this little show for long enough. I’m going to let her know who’s really in control. I flip her over. There’s sand and it’s wet and cold but neither one of us give a shit. I slide my fingers inside of her thong and find her center.
“Shit,” she whispers as I rub my thumb across her clit. It’s already swollen and pulsing, and just touching it is causing her body to shiver. I make a slow circle and speed up, finding a rhythm that makes her tone become a higher pitch. She’s already on the brink. I go to slide my finger in her but it doesn’t go in easily, she’s so fucking tight. My dick twitches, thinking of how it’s going to feel to be inside of her. I try again and her stomach clenches and her body tenses up. She sees me watching her and pulls my face to hers, sucking my tongue. It makes my rhythm speed up and I focus solely on her clit.
“You’re about to come for me babe.” She's gripping my hair like her life depends on it.
“No I’m not,” she says stubbornly, in between pants. I crash my mouth against hers. She begins to moan into my mouth and suddenly breaks our kiss, gasps, her legs digging into the sand like she’s falling over the edge. I lock my lips on her long slender neck and begin to suck it. I want to make sure she’s marked.
I increase my speed and pressure, and use my other fingers to dip inside of her, but they don’t go far. Her breath hitches, her clit starts to throb frantically, and like clockwork, she throws her head back as her legs shake like an earthquake. I smile at her victoriously, but her eyes are now squeezed shut. She lets out a moan that comes down in ripples as she does. “Fuck, you’re so wet.” She’s still recovering but now I want to find her g-spot so I can push my dick against it. She’s still coming down from her orgasm and I’m ready to start her second one. By the time she leaves this beach, she’s going to be addicted to me. I start to push my fingers into her again and it’s still tight, and I notice her flat stomach clenches and she winces.
“Are you okay?” I ask her. She’s still recovering but her eyes meet mine with lust and need.
“Yes,” she growls at me, and attempts to push herself further down on my finger, but she flinches again. She’s dripping like a damn ocean. I should be gliding right in but I’m not.
I want inside of her. I want to shut her smart little mouth, and hear her moan my name, and to fuck the attitude right out of her. My thoughts go back to the last time it was so hard pushing into someone. It was high school and it was Sidney Roberts, but it was because she was a virgin.
I laugh out loud.
That’s definitely not the case here. I do a once-over of her body again, perfect pert breasts, the body of a Victoria’s Secret model, and the face of an angel who wears—or at least wore—clothes made by the devil. A virgin—yeah right!
“Is something funny to you?” she asks, and the sass is right back in her voice.
“We’re having some technical difficulties, but I have the fix for that,” I tell her, and her face flushes red now.
“Are you saying that something is wrong with me?” she spits at me angrily. Her eyes are full of fire and…something else…I would say embarrassment, but that can’t be it. What girl would be embarrassed of a tight pussy?
“No, I’m saying that you’re tight as fuck, and I need to warm you up.” She pulls back with a scowl on her face.
“No, you’re having technical difficulties!” she growls angrily, pushing me away from her and standing up. At first I think it’s a joke, but her anger is real and slaps me in the face.
“Are you serious?”
What the fuck just happened?
“Do I look like I’m kidding?” She’s now grabbing the t-shirt and jeans she took off earlier. I laugh, throwing my head back, and point to my erect dick.
“No I’m pretty sure this is working,” I reply, visibly annoyed. She crashed into my cousin’s car, kicked me in the nuts, led me on a high-speed chase with the police, was late as fuck for our date, and after having me get her off, she tries to insinuate my dick is broken when I was about to give her the best fucking head of her life.
“I’ve got to go anyway,” she mutters, storming off towards the car. I push myself off the sand and try to throw on my jeans as best as I can with a hard-on.
“What the fuck is your problem?” I ask, grabbing my things
“I don’t have the problem, you have the problem! Just fucking a girl like she asked you to, and now your other problem is finding a ride home!” she yells, walking towards her car.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” I shout at her as she gets in her car. She then smiles wide and shrugs.
“Everything. I’m completely batshit crazy,” she says, then speeds off, leaving me frustrated in more ways than one.
Chapter 3
Megan
There were times when I was terrified, where my heart was strangled with fear of the dark. Not of a fictional monster under my bed, but of the real monsters who slept outside the door of the rundown homes I lived in. When my chest was so tight I felt as if it would crush my ribs, that holding a breath too long would suffocate me. It was those nights where I would close my eyes and imagine my mother’s face, being held in my father’s arms, and create a world where I was safe and loved. I never thought in all of my reality that I’d feel safe with anyone, let alone a man, but Kam’s made the impossible reality.
Since our first kiss I’ve felt off kilter, afraid that at any moment I’d wake up and this would all be a figment of my imagination. I wake up every day expecting him to be a cruel trick of my mind. I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve him. He’s been patient and is kind to me and more than understanding. It’s been thirty-four days. I’ve been counting, because sometimes it feels like a countdown until something goes wrong, when the universe realizes it’s made a mistake and I don’t get to have a guy like him, that I don’t deserve this type of happiness. But each day it gets a little easier.
You always get the easy, you don’t deal with the hard.
My eyes are following the couple on the screen. It’s a horror movie—not the terrifying kind, but the teen slasher one—that’s more comical and unrealistic than scary. The movie theater’s half full and me and Kam have great seats in the center. They’re plush and luxurious, not like the stiff crappy ones I sat in the few times I went as a kid. I snuggle into Kam’s shoulder and watch as he looks intently at the movie. He loves movies of all kinds and since we’ve started dating he’s exposed me to so many. I’ve never been a movie person, I never had a chance to be exposed to them. Books were free and that was the best form of entertainment I could have until I started making my own money. He glances over at me and smiles, giving me a squeeze. I tell myself to enjoy it, to relish it, it’s okay to be happy, that life doesn’t always have to be on the edge of detriment.
I sink into him and move my eyes back to the screen. He squeezes my hand and I realize that I’m falling for him. When this thought comes there’s a wave of relief that spreads through my entire body and I feel light. I’ve only smoked pot once but it wasn’t like that, this is almost like a peace, but there’s a tugging within me, one that always follows it that causes me to tense up. I hate it and try to fight it, frustration and anxiousness feeling like they’re about to burst out of me. I steady my breathing and try to stay present but my focus is moving past this moment, trying to pull me from this.
I focus on the screen and the heroine of the movie has a gun pointed towards another character. My throat starts to constrict, and my breathing is becoming erratic. I fight the anxiety coursing through me. I feel like I’m about to throw up. I let go of Kam’s hand and grip the chair.
Green.
Purple.
My heart is fighting to get out of my chest and I’m trembling, and I don’t know what’s wrong. I silently fight the tears that have come inexplicably to my eyes and are now trickling down my face. And when the character on the screen pulls the trigger and shoots at the main character’s mother, I scream. I’m screaming.
I’m out of my seat, everyone in the theater staring at me. Some confused, some annoyed, others unsure if it’s a joke that’s part of the movie experience. I can’t look at Kam. I’m out of my seat and running from the theater. When I make it outside I fight for air. I’m full on crying now and I don’t know why, but I feel like a lunatic.
“Babe, what’s wrong?”
I won’t look at him but his tone is dripping with confusion and worry. I cover my face in embarrassment. His strong arms pull me into him.
“It’s okay,” he assures me, his voice solid but warm while he gently rubs my back.
“It’s not, I’m so sorry,” I tell him in between sobs, trying to pull it together as much as I can but I’m falling apart.
“You don’t have anything to be sorry about, I promise you.” His voice is so gentle and calming and I can’t help feeling whatever turmoil that was brewing inside of me begin to dissipate, only leaving behind complete humiliation.
This is what I was afraid of—ruining something that was special and nice with whatever it is that’s wrong with me. It was inevitable and I guess it’s better to end it now, to let go whatever hope I had in this. I’m afraid to look at him but I might as well face it, prepare myself to see what so many who were supposed to love and take care of me saw when they realized I wasn’t right, that I wasn’t normal. But when I do, his face isn’t full of contempt or irritation, but of understanding and kindness. I’m confused and almost afraid of it.
“Do you want to tell me what happened?” he asks softly, wiping away my tears with his thumbs. The compassion in his voice and touch makes me melt.
“I don’t know, I was watching the movie and I couldn’t control myself. I don’t know, I’m sorry for embarrassing you, I hate that I’m like this and I wish I wasn’t but I don’t know what’s wrong with me and if it’ll happen again, and I appreciate the time you’ve spend with me and everything we shared and I know this is too much…”
“Stop! Don’t go any further, okay? Let’s take a walk, can we do that?” His tone is firm but his smile is reassuring. I’m confused, I was sure he’d be calling me a cab or saying he’d drop me off at home. The last thing I thought he’d offer was to take a walk with someone who could embarrass him at any second. I don’t know what to say so I nod and his mouth reveals a soft smile. He takes my hand in his and we walk for what seems like forever but each step I become a little relaxed.
My mind is racing a mile a minute though. What is he thinking? What is going to happen after this? Where do I go from here? I’ve never missed a person that left me but I already miss him, knowing he’ll be gone soon, that he’s thinking of a way to gently let me down. But I’m grateful for every moment we’ve shared but mourn the moments we won’t ever. I try not to hate myself for not being the normal girl he wants who could possibly grow what we have into s
omething more.
“Are you okay?” he asks me, his hand enveloping mine. We’re by the water now, the beautiful blue waves calming along the concrete strip surrounding it. There’s boats far off in the distance and I try to match my breathing to the waves
“I am,” I tell him, as a soft breeze moves through us. It’s a cool and perfect fall day…at least it would have been if I hadn’t just ruined it. Kam stops his stride, his brilliant eyes sending a warm sensation through my chest. He stands in front of me, both of my hands in his. He pulls me towards him and rests his hands on my waist. Here it comes, the gentle words he’ll say, ending this, and I prepare myself for them.
“I know you’ve been through a lot Megan, and I wish I can go back and fix life for you. You deserved so much better than the hand you were dealt and if I could go back and change it I would. But what I can do is try to be the man I think you deserve, if you let me. My dad taught me to be patient for things you want and I want you, and if you’re not ready for the title then I understand but I want you to know that it’s only you. I’m not dating any other girls. It’d be unfair because you take up my thoughts, you have my time, and you will for as long as you want.”
Is he insane? He has to be, after what just happened. He still wants me? He’s waiting for me to say something, his smile hopeful, as he rubs circles on the front of my hands, sending tingles through my entire body. This happens with him, whenever I’m near him I have urges I’ve never had before. He’s been patient with me, we haven’t gone beyond intense making out but I want more. I feel like I need it, and I wonder how you can yearn for something you’ve never had so badly before. My body is intuitive of a release it craves, to be touched where it hasn’t been before.
When all of my foster siblings were going crazy at fourteen and fifteen, and my counselor said they were having raging hormones, I thought everyone was insane. I didn’t want anyone to look at me, let alone for a man to touch me, but with Kam it’s hit full force. When his skin touches mine it’s electric. I don’t feel numb, exposed, or afraid. I feel wanted and I want more every day I spend with him.
