Despite knowing she can probably see us, though my room’s dark, we don’t stop.
At least I don’t.
Cash leans forward, his hands on my ass, body slumping against mine as he thrusts his hips into my movements. He moans, one hand moves from my ass to fist my hair in his hand, and I grab onto his hips driving him into my mouth as hard as he wants to go. He comes again, just as strong as the first one, hunched over and clinging to me, I feel my mouth flood with the warmth of him.
This is what I give Cash Bryant. Release. I don’t give him love the way he craves it, but I give what I can, what I feel right now. I give him a girl so bent she’s wrapped around him, but not touching. Like a cuff bracelet. Always there but just hanging off your wrist. Never attached.
When I know he’s done, I pull back and watch him, sitting up on my knees like he is. He’s not looking at me, his hands on his knees and he pants. His lashes flutter, a quick peek at me and then he pulls away completely. As soon as he’s a foot away, I feel the coldness creep over me, the warmth of him so far away.
When he stands and pulls his jeans on, a wave of nausea hits me. I’m not saying anything to him and that feeling of utter despair overtakes me.
There are times—when he’s leaving my room at four in the morning that—I feel I’m holding him back.
October 17, 2013
I drink.
I smoke.
I pray for darkness.
I find it.
My problem is finding it in ways I shouldn’t. Ways that lead me to trouble.
It’s Friday night, I’m on my knees in a room that’s too dark, too loud and filled with guys I don’t know. Everything’s spinning and I’m gone. My stomach burns when images of Cash flash behind my closed lids.
Check yes or no.
Is it me or him? He’s too young to say this. He’s too young to feel this intensity. He’s nine years old, but he does. We do.
Promise me. Promise what? Forever.
I want to ask you something tonight? Anything. Stay with me.
You’re killing him.
I am. I know I am.
What are you doing to me?
I’m destroying you.
I roll on my back and stare at darkness. There’s a steady rain falling and I’m outside now.
How’d I get out here?
I don’t know.
I blink.
And I blink again. I breathe. And then again. My chest feels like someone is on top of me.
I’m in the middle of the yard, grass green surrounds pitch black. I’m hot so I reach down to my chest to see what I’m wearing. I have on football shoulder pads and my panties. Nothing else. No bra.
Raising up on my elbows, my fingers dip into the wet grass, nails embedding in the dirt.
As I look around, a pair of strong arms tug me closer and slide my panties down pushing me flat against the grass. The heat leaves my body all at once and I start to shake.
A guy hovers over me, spreading my legs apart.
I blink.
And again.
I think it’s Jet but I can’t see, everything is so blurry and dark. Headlights spark in the distance and I see that it is Jet. His hands go to his jeans and he’s unbuttoning them, pushing them down past his hips.
I try blinking again. Maybe it will stop.
More images. It’s all wrong and my stomach turns, my throat tight as the vomit rises.
The boy above me, he’s the wrong boy. Always the wrong one. I cling to his neck imagining Cash, needing him. Wanting him.
I say his name.
He doesn’t respond.
I look up at the sky, there’s one star I focus on before the clouds cover it, rain pelting my face.
Raising my hand, it feels so weighted, I push against the heaviness on top of me. “Stop…” I don’t say it loud enough.
I try to move back but he doesn’t let me. “Come on, you know you fucking want it. Just take it.”
He’s wrong.
I don’t want him. Or this.
“Get off her!”
That voice is familiar.
“Get lost. She’s asking for it!” I feel the guy pull out.
My body is heaved by strong arms that hold me close to his chest. I think maybe he wants his turn, but I know that smell and I know his voice.
It’s Landon.
He’s saving me from the bitter cold again only he’s there too. I smell it on his breath and skin.
He takes me to his car but we don’t move.
“Madison…” his voice is distant but he helps me get my panties back on.
“What are you doing?” I ask trying to pry one eye open. It’s hard. An effort I don’t have.
“You’re naked. I’m trying to get your panties on.” He taps my knee. “Help me out. Lift up.”
I do and smile, lightly when he’s struggling. My head falls back against his seat, my legs dangling over the edge. “Are you taking them off?”