36
JOEL
I try to suck in the words as they leave my mouth, but they hang between us. We both pause a microsecond.
Make love?
No. It’s too early, isn’t it? Seven days of intimacy, a one-night stand a month ago, weeks before then as acquaintances. But the word fucking is too crude right now, having sex feels too empty, and I said the first thing that gave this thing we’re doing some meaning.
Because it does mean something to me. Victoria means more to me than a temporary lay. The moments I spend with her aren’t about me achieving pleasure. I want her to feel the joy, the power, because it’s she who has the upper hand in this situation. She’s always had it. After spending time with my sister and realizing how much I was holding back, I wanted this last time to make up for all the days when I didn’t give her enough.
Victoria bites her lip at my request. Her eyes flash with uncertainty, so I reach up, put my hands on her thighs, move them up to her hips, then up to her breasts. I squeeze them, thumb the nipples. “Please. I want to be inside you. I want to make you feel good.”
She agrees, finally; she lifts up to her knees, fists me, and guides me to her entrance. In this, it’s all under her control. She lowers herself slowly, just over the head of my cock, then moans in her delicious way. Pauses, then while biting her lip, sinks onto me, rocketing my heart to my throat. I’m instantly numb with ecstasy, covered in her, feeling her warmth throughout my body.
“Oh, Joel, yes,” she breathes out. She lifts and lowers at a slow, torturous pace, and we both grunt at the pressure, at the friction, at the depth.
“I don’t want you to stop.” I grip her waist, hanging on to the last of my own control.
“Never,” she says, loud and frantic.
I crash my mouth into hers. “Shhh. People are going to hear.”
We both laugh as we kiss.
“Be quiet, then,” she answers flirtatiously, now going at a snail’s pace, lifting up to stretch and stroke me, then lowering, deeper each time. I’ve never been so buried in a woman, physically and emotionally.
How the fuck am I supposed to let her go?
How can I not be with her night after night, hold her like this, be in her, be with her?
I squeeze her cheeks with every thrust, and although she’s controlling her voice, I can feel her coiling from the inside out. The way she’s tightening around my cock is telling me she’s close. I thank the heavens, because I am, too.
I gently push her so she’s sitting up, so I can watch her. From this view, she is amazing, perfect. Hair falling in waves, cheeks pink, skin glistening. Eyes swimming in pleasure. Holding her by the waist, I thrust up, and with every move, her breasts wiggle and she moans. “Joel, I . . .”
But she doesn’t finish her words, because she falls apart in my arms at the same time I break into pieces below her.
Later, after I’ve cleaned up, I dress in my clothes. I watch Victoria get back into her panties, her silky legs disappearing into her pajama bottoms, until her purple-polished toes peek below the hem. After she threads her arms into the sleeves of her top, I can’t help but jump in.
“Let me,” I say, and button her up. Once I get to the top button, I kiss her on the nose. She simultaneously kisses my chin, the gesture so sweet, so Victoria, that my chest hollows out and I’m beset with an emotion I can’t sort out.
She canvases my face. “What’s that for?”
“No reason. I guess I wanted to dress you for a change.”
She bites her bottom lip, eyes darting away. “We need to talk about tomorrow.”
“I know.”
“No regrets, right?”
“None.”
“If you get it, I’ll be happy for you, I promise.” But her face says differently. Her smile is more a wince, her voice tight and high. With that my body crumples a little, at how much she wants this job; it’s not us that she’s concerned with.
So I turn it around on her. “If you get it, I’ll be happy for you.”
“D-do you have a backup?”
“Work, you mean?” When she nods, I say, “I think I’m ready to make the move to do something on my own. Be an entrepreneur.”
“Wow.”
“You?”
“Get back to my first love.”
“Ah, your writing. Your blog.”
A smile sneaks onto her lips. “Right now things still suck, but once I get more time . . .”
“Do you know what I think the problem is?”
“What’s that?”
“You’re trying to make things perfect. Your blog had this Pinterest-perfect vibe, and that’s a bitch to keep up, isn’t it?”
I raise an eyebrow. “You’ve read my blog?”
“Maybe. Yes.” My face heats up as I admit it. “Maybe it’s time to take a new direction, a new tone. Make it truly real.”
She frowns and protests. “It was real. Everything I’ve said has been the truth.”
“Maybe you should try a different angle.”
“I said that once . . . oh . . . never mind.” Her eyes gleam. “Thanks for the advice.”
“Thank you.” I thread my fingers with hers. I squeeze them tight, because without knowing it, I’ve given myself my own advice. I thought there were only two options in this conundrum, but a different angle might be the ticket. I start my crawl to the front flap of the tent, the weight of this final exit heavy against my bent-over body. We’re supposed to see each other tomorrow, but it won’t be like this again.
I turn to her, still on my knees. She’s sitting cross-legged on the mattress. I put my hands on her shoulders, graze my thumb on her cheek. “Whatever happens from here on out, I’ll always remember this.” I kiss her one last time. Full and hard, hopefully showing her more of what I can’t remotely put into words.
“I’ll always remember us. Goodbye, Joel.”
“Goodbye, Victoria.”