Page 63 of The Queen's Denial

There is no talking. As soon as we get into an empty room, without note of its features or décor, Andy starts ripping my $2,000 dress right off my shoulders.

But this is good. There doesn’t need to be any talking. We’re grown adults who know this can’t lead anywhere and are going to fuck anyway. This is what I wanted for the rest of my time here. This is what his gaze on me all day has been screaming at me.

He pushes me facedown on the bed, nearly strangling himself with his tie in his haste while I struggle to help. But he doesn’t need my help, as he moves onto his belt and whips it off before yanking his pants down and pounding into me.

He pulls my hair into a hasty knot and yanks it up while he continues to rut me up against the headboard: yank, slam, yank, slam. He grunts in satisfaction every time he plunges into me, and I let out a muffled cry. My head bobs back and forth, and for some reason, the noises he’s making and the headboard smacking against the wall just electrify my body even more. They fill me in a different way than his cock does, fitting together like harmonies. And it’s not fair that this music will be gone soon, but then, there are so many things in both of our lives that are unfair. All we can do is make the most of this.

I want to turn around and look at him, but each time I move, he pushes me down harder. “Stay!” he says finally, as I go to turn again.

I’m nearly beyond words, but I’m intent on fighting against my orgasm until he lets me turn around to face him. I still squirm and struggle, and finally choke out the words, “Let me see you!”

In no time, his hands cup both my tits and pull me up against him, somehow staying inside of me the entire time. His hands are so warm and gentle, massaging until I’m sure I’m about to explode, before pinching hard. I scream and he clearly enjoys it, as he bites the juncture of my neck and shoulder with growing excitement. I feel him further harden inside of me, and I’m sure he’s about ready to come. It feels like he’s got an iron grip on me, but I twist suddenly and break our connection. If he won’t let me see him, he won’t have me.

He looks at me, twisted around in his arm, sitting wet and sweaty all over his thigh, his gaze mutinous. He holds me for a moment, and then finally spins me violently the rest of the way to face him and slams us closer together.

We immediately maul each other’s bodies with this easier access. He bites down in sync with his movements, and I don’t know how I haven’t come all over him, but I know it’s building up to such a point that I’m certain it’s going to wreck me as soon as it happens. Just like he wrecks me every time I see him, talk to him, or touch him. He’s as consuming as this sex is, eating every inch of me until there’s nothing left.

That thought is what gives me my complete and utter release. It feels like I’m detached — like I’m free. Like I can do anything for this short period of time. I love it. I love this feeling.

“I love you,” I whisper voicelessly as a tear rolls down my cheek.

I hear Andy cry out his own release, and it feels both like a full eternity and just seconds before he drops me onto the bed.

“What did you… did you…” he pants.

I come to my senses immediately, and my eyes flash open as if being ripped from a dream. “What?” I ask, although I think I might be asking myself that question.

He backs away from me slowly, panting, eyes wide like a scared animal. I can’t believe a man like him can look at someone this way. Did I do that? Did he hear me? Did I say it that loud? I honestly don’t even know what the fuck I was thinking. I can’t love him, and he can’t love me. And even if we did, it wouldn’t fucking matter.

“You just said… fuck, Chi.” It looks like I’ve indelibly broken something in him. I’ve never seen him give such an honest display of emotion.

I want to say that it was just a slip of the tongue. That I didn’t mean it, and it was the endorphins swimming around in my system; just the fucking addiction to what sex with him does to me. Instead, what comes out of my mouth is, “Come with me.”

He breathes in sharply. He’s not angry, like I’ve always thought he’d be in my head. He’s just… stunned. And hurt. He’s so fucking hurt that it tears me apart.

“I can’t,” he says. His voice breaks.

I finally snap fully back to reality. What in the everloving fuck am I doing right now? “Oh, shit. I am so fucking stupid. I know that, Andy.”

I roll my eyes at myself and finally say what I wanted to say in the first place. “I’m such an idiot. You know how you hear about shit like that from your friends? ‘Oh, I said it! Right after sex and everything! I finally told him!’ And you’re thinking, ‘Yeah, ya dumb bitch, good for you. Now he’ll never talk to you again.’” I shake my head at my own stupidity. “And look at me. I’m just what I’ve always hated.”

I pull my dress on and start zipping it up hastily, itching to get out of this room as quickly as possible. He tugs my hand and pulls me down onto the bed. I don’t want to sit on the bed. I don’t want to let him keep me here, but his hold on me is too strong, and I plop down despite myself. I can’t look at him. I will not fucking look at him.

But he pulls my chin, and I allow him to do it. I immediately fucking let him do it, because apparently I’m some infatuated idiot who is powerless against the lightest of touches from the object of that infatuation.

“Chee-chee. You’re not alone in this. It’s not just you. But I… I can’t. And you can’t.”

I feel an overwhelming deluge of tears right beyond the surface, begging to push their way past that impermeable barrier I’ve always had up. It’s so thin now, and I don’t know why. I don’t know why I can’t control it like I’ve always been able to. It throws me off completely. It makes me feel like I have no control.

That realization is what finally gets me to slap his hand off my face. “I know you can’t, Andy. I just said that. I’m not fucking stupid, okay?”

He sighs out. There is so much unsaid, hanging in the air, and yet we can’t actually say any of it. We know it, and still we sit here, like we’ll figure out the solution if we wait long enough. “I… I don’t want you to leave like this. But maybe it’s better.”

“Yeah, it is.” I say. This is what I really need. For him to let me go. I know he’s been watching me; I’m not stupid. I’m not sure of what he does in his van outside my house, but I’m sure it’s not just innocent sentry work. I can’t be who I need to be while he’s there, and I have to tell him that. “And you know what else is better? If you leave me alone now.”

He steels his jaw and looks off at the wall, a miserable expression on his face. But finally, he nods.

I’m done talking now. I leave the room and make sure to steer clear of him the rest of the night. It’s not hard. He does the same. And when I leave, I know it’s the last time I’ll see him, and I’m glad. I’m glad I can harden myself again. Because that’s all we can do in this life to protect ourselves, and it’s what I have to do if I want to survive.

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