Cruise hadn’t understood. He’d been busy talking about some cheerleader he scored with the night before, but my mind had drifted, which had been standard anytime the chicks from school were brought up. I’d lost interest in the easies by tenth grade. But after what happened two weeks before, I’d struggled to find pleasure in anything. My taste buds had dulled, and life lacked color.
Except for that damn blue polka-dot umbrella and the girl standing beneath it, who stole my world from under me. She was sunshine on a rainy day, a rainbow against gray clouds, hope in a Catholic school uniform. She was why poetry was written and art created. I could deny I became a fool for love the second I saw her, but it would be a lie. She made me want to be a better man, a better person in life. She made me think twice about the direction I was heading. But we both knew better. Our course was already set, our love a sweeping storm that would brew for years before raging.
Her hair hung down, darker because it was wet, soaked as if the umbrella hadn’t protected her. Her eyes were wide with innocence as she ate a candy bar like it was the best treat she’d ever tasted. Her skirt . . . damn that short skirt. I saw the man in the car next to me staring at her and I wanted to beat the shit out of him for looking at her like she could be his next tasty treat. That fucking pervert was around my dad’s age. Fucking asshole. She couldn’t be more than seventeen.
I was tempted to go over and cover her bare legs with my jacket. The girl was oblivious to the attention she attracted, and I almost felt I should become her protective knight in shining armor. I wanted to kick my own ass for that thought. So fucking lame. Until she looked my way. My throat went dry and my lips parted. The humid air wouldn’t save me. I was lost to this girl from that moment on.
She looked away, and the sweetest of pinks colored her cheeks. Damn. Her purity shined like a beacon. I’ve never been one with a need to take a V-card to feed some locker room pride. Nah, I didn’t need to prove anything to anyone, least of all some jock-asses who bragged about every girl they bagged. But when she dared to look my way again, a deep-seated desire stirred. I wanted her.
It was a carnal reaction I felt in my gut, but it had nothing to do with sex. Sure, sex crossed my mind, but its images were blurred like visions of déjà vu.
With no justifiable reason, right there at a busy intersection in the suburbs north of downtown, I became determined to be everything she would ever need. I would risk it all just to talk to her. If she’d never been kissed, I’d kiss her so she never desired to kiss another man. If she was still innocent in other ways, I would earn her trust and not just make love to her, but create it, a bond so strong she’d never need anyone else. I would be her first and last love. That day as the rain came down, I made sweet Sara Jane Grayson my mission. With nothing left to lose, I vowed to steal her heart and own her soul.
As I watch her moving on top of me, buried deep inside her, I hope I’ve changed her for the better. Three years ago, when our worlds collided, she changed me.
She collapses on my chest and I hold her tight as our bodies relax after the intense release. Fingertips tap across the tattoo that honors her, the one she hates. To be fair, she doesn’t want me to have any, but she calls this one an ugly bug. There’s nothing ugly about the firefly. Just like her, its strength is illuminated in the darkest of times.
Lifting up, she rests her chin on my chest, and asks, “What are you doing today?”
In any other room, in any other house, with any other couple, this question would be so easy to answer. But it’s not in another place and we’re not just any other couple. We’re complicated and my life is twisted. I try hard to spare her from getting caught up in my tornado. My self-destructive ways have become worse, but I don’t mention most of that to her anymore. Instead, I respond like we are one of those other couples, where answers are easy, and life is simple. “I’m going into the office, and have a meeting with my father. I’ll pick you up on campus later.”
Sitting up, she maneuvers away, but I’m quick and grab her wrist. When her sweet, soulful eyes—that melt me like butter—reach me, I add, “More.”
“More?”
“I love you more.”
A smile slips into place and she pokes me in the chest. “You’re not so tough, Mr. Kingwood.” It’s a game she likes to play, to pretend that some of my bad isn’t as bad as her mind imagines.
I play along because despite the light she brings into my world, I only bring darkness into hers. The smile she evokes from me comes naturally though. “Nah, I’m not so tough.”
Leaning back down, she kisses my cheek and then gets up to shower. I watch that ass I’m so fond of until she disappears into the bathroom. My phone vibrates on the nightstand. It’s been going off for at least an hour. We both ignored it, but I can’t any longer. Reaching over, I grab it and glance at the messages.
The sigh is automatic as soon as I see the text.
Cruise: When are you coming in? Your dad is flipping out.
Me: I’ll be in shortly.
Cruise: Fucker.
Me: You know it, Sucker.
I toss the phone on the bed and head into the bathroom. I open the shower door and look in, eyeing her. “Perfect timing.”
Sara Jane laughs and her hands go up. “Oh no, you stay back. I can’t be late again or I’ll be counted absent.”
Taking the soap from her hands, I step in and run the bar over the silky skin of her breasts and down farther until the bar is dropped and my fingers are between her legs. “If that’s the worst that can happen . . .”
“Damn you.”
“You love it, baby. So much. Just like you love me.”
Her eyelids dip closed when her shoulder blades hit the white tile wall. I lean over her and kiss her breath away when my mouth covers that little O her lips are forming. Hands press against my chest then slide up to grab hold of my shoulders, pulling me closer.
Soap and sex covers her as I glide my tongue up until it’s discovering every curve and alcove of her mouth. I want to fuck her. Again. So fucking hard that she forgets she has classes altogether. She forgets the outside world. She forgets everything else, everything but me. Pressing my cock against her hip, I push as my fingers fuck her pussy. I’m trying to be good, trying to make it about her. Only about her, but she makes it damn hard when she grabs my cock with both hands and starts to get me off.
“I want to fuck you.” My words are minced under the water’s spray as I lean my head against the wall and take the shell of her ear between my teeth.
“God, Alexander.” Her body folds against mine, her orgasm close enough to feel her tightening around me. “Why do you do this to me?” Her question is loaded, and I’m not sure it only concerns our sexual deviancy.
“It’s what you do to me. Turn around.” I take her by the ribs and spin her toward the wall. Her hands go against the wall in front of her and she parts for me. Such a good girl.