Being Kalli(73)

He slips on the condom and flips my back to the bed. I lay there with my legs open in the air, pointed at opposing angles so wide and far for him to come in any way as quickly as possible. He grabs my foot and brings his hands down and together at my inner thigh.

Then he stops for a moment and gazes down at me.

Cutting my thoughts off, he says, “You look so beautiful like this.” Leaning an inch from my ear, he turns dirty and says, “I’m going to pound you.”

He does. I’m so wet and opened up by him that his first thrust pounds so deep his balls slap against me. And he repeats.

I cry out softly, with my wrist between my teeth each time he drives into me. His lip, too, is clamped between his teeth. Us having to silence ourselves is as erotic as hearing him cry out for me.

I’m ashamed to admit we don’t last long after being on the verge of orgasm multiple times before starting.

He whispers, “Oh God, Kall, I’m coming,” from above me, and both of us unabashedly stare at each other. His neck weakens and lolls as his length pulses in me, and I finally give in to him and arch back and push the pain harder, pushing my pleasure as long as it will release me.

“Fuck, I love you,” Nate says as he thrusts the last time, which is the same time as my quivering voice says, “I love you so much.”

Punished, rewarded and now spent, we fall asleep without ever having the talk we need to have about our future, but I know there’ll be plenty of time for that. Plus, things can’t go downhill from here anyway.



• • •



Nate rolls off me and says, “Thanks, babe,” and I ask, “Do you really love me?” and he replies, “Oh, about that. I was just saying it to make you feel better.”

I’m beyond hurt. Nate seemed so realistic. But I knew I shouldn’t have believed him. “He” said that I was beautiful and kind, too, before he forced me. I’m just weakened by love, which is a reminder as to why I swore off it too long. Love makes you vulnerable like that.

“Kalli!” Nate shout whispers.

I wake with a start, whacking my forearm on my bedside table and cursing at the same time. I shoot up.

Looking around, things fall into place in a specific order.

There’s the sunlight. That tells me it’s morning. Then there’s the fact Nate’s voice has called me. Sleep ridden, and thoughts still adjusting to the confusion, I tell myself Nate talking to me has to mean he’s here. That he’s still here.

That Nate spent the night.

Nate made love to me and then slept with me all night.

“Crap, crap,” he mutters.

I touch his arm, say, “Um, hi,” in this shy, girly voice I didn’t know I had.

“I’m going to come across as an incredible asshole here but what’s the time?”

I flip around to my clock radio and read, “Eight-thirty?”

“Eight-thirty?”

Nate’s voice breaks somewhat close to the soprano range at that, and he jumps off the bed.

Now, I need to break this down for you. Nate jumps off the bed and Nate is naked. I’m gawking, with the possibility of drool, at Nate’s most sexy appendage. It’s hard and I follow that, rather than him, with my eyes as he searches my room like a hound dog on speed.

I should help but my female urges pulse so strongly at me, I have to bring my fingers to myself to stop myself from convulsing into a quivering mess.

“Kalli, I know you’re tired but can you please help me? I don’t know where my shirt went, and my keys fell out of my jean pocket, too.”

I sit there.

One.

Two.

Three seconds.

And then I snap out of it. God, he’s gorgeous down there; like he’s an art form. So gorgeous that I want to do things to him to please him in every way I can and … I thought this last night. Wanting to make him happy instead of doing it to give me a rush. I’m forgetting, repeating myself. I think I’m losing myself and falling faster than I would have guessed I could.

“Sorry, I maybe overslept.”

I find his keys after I crawl my fingers halfway under my bed. Nate pulls out his shirt, balled at the foot of the mattress.

It’s as he hurries to cover his chest and my mind starts thinking about us and what this means, and all the real stuff that I blurt out, “You’re just leaving? Now?”

He rushes up to me, hands on either side of my face and presses a long kiss over my lips. “Kall Bell, I’m so, so sorry but I have a photography session today. My mate from class needs help with his set and shoot, and I’m shooting after him. We promised. Project is due, like, in two days.”

Nate links his hands at the back of his head and turns from me. He seems to whisper to himself, and it sounds like self-cussing. “Shit,” he says, louder than the other words.