Page 65 of Dallas

Mine.Mine.

Inside my body.

I want to cry, but I don’t, because I don’t want to freak him out, so I bite my lip to keep it back. And I just let go. I surrender myself to the experience. To the feeling of him moving inside of me.

To everything.

And I find myself scaling that mountain again. I find myself on the verge of coming.

I cling to his shoulders so tightly, so tight that I fear I might draw blood because my nails are digging into his skin but I can’t let go of him, because it’s all too much. And not enough.

It’ll never be enough. That terrifies me. Even as I’m standing there on the edge of the cliff, right on the verge of another orgasm, I’m so afraid. That this won’t be enough, that I’ll never get enough of him, that I will never ever be able to fill the void that’s inside of me. I’m ablack hole.

Of all the love that I never got, all the love that I want.

Of the great and terrible need that I have felt ever since I first saw Dallas.

Stay with me. Stay with me.

Love me. Love me.

I cling to him, and I squeeze my eyes shut, and I scream as my orgasm rips through me. And that scream almost turns into a wail, but I catch it.

It’s done. We’ve done it. It’s over.

And I feel like curling up into a ball and sobbing.

I’m half despair and half hope. I don’t know which is worse. The hope, I decide. Because at least despair is something I’m familiar with.

Then Dallas gathers me up in his arms and holds me against him. “Wait here for a second,” he whispers against my temple.

He goes away for a moment, and then I hear water running in the next room. He comes back sans condom, and stands there in the doorway and looks at me.

“God.” He bends over at the waist, hands planted on his knees, and I’m not sure he’s praying or swearing. He’s out of breath like he just ran a marathon. “I think you almost killed me,” he says.

Warmth trickles through me. I almost killed him?

“You sent me to another planet,” I say.

He lifts his head, and grins. And I see him. My friend. My Dallas. Suddenly I feel like everything’s going to be okay. Like it really might be.

“Come here,” he says, not waiting for me to come here, bending over and gathering me into his arms and picking me up. My skin against his feels so good. He’s got hair on his chest, and it’s a little scratchy against my breasts, and I like it. His muscles are tight, hard. Beautifully defined. I lift myhand and touch him, just there on the chest. I want to explore him. I want to do what he did to me, I want to take his cock into my mouth and swallow him deep.

I want to taste him everywhere. And I hope there will be an opportunity for that. Because I don’t want it to just happen once and then never again.

He carries me into the bathroom, and sits me on the edge of the counter while the bath runs. It’s a deep, clawfoot tub that I haven’t seen before, because I haven’t gone into his bathroom before.

“This is cute,” I say, looking around. There’s a small, square shower in the corner, with glass doors. But it looks barely big enough for one person, let alone two.

“Oh yeah. This bathroom got a remodel a few years ago, but you can only do so much with the room this small.”

I drink his body in as he fusses around with the tub. His thighs are thick and hard, and I never really thought about checking out a man’s thighs, but I’m definitely doing it now.

It takes a while for the tub to fill, and he continues to check the temperature judiciously, before he lifts me off the counter and brings me down into the water with him.

For a moment I wonder if it should be weird to be intimate like this with someone I’ve known for so long. If the change should feel more jarring.

Then I decide I don’t care.

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