Page 72 of Hunt for the Roses
She touches the side of my face with her free hand. “Come for me,” she whispers. The way she says it is so innocent and genuine, it makes my control break. I feel a slow pressure build in my balls, and after a few more firm strokes, I release my hot liquid into her hand.
“Fuck,” I grunt. My head drops back down to the crook of her neck as I ride out the waves of my orgasm through spastic jerks of my body. Aria starts to slow her pumps as I come down from my high, and I stay in the crook of her neck for the next several moments before picking my head up. When I look at Aria, she licks her lips nervously at me, and I know exactly what she’s thinking because I’m thinking the same thing.
We’ve crossed a line we can’t uncross, and neither of us know how to untangle it effectively.
We just keep staring at one another.
Looking for an answer.
A sign.
A direction to go.
Aria is the first to break our silence. “I should go wash up,” she whispers as she readjusts her bra over her breasts with her clean hand.
“No, give me a second,” I say. I slowly stand up straight and start to situate my boxer briefs and shorts back over my hips. When I look at Ari, she’s still biting her bottom lip as she nods.
I walk into the kitchen behind the wall we’re on and wet a hand towel with warm water. I walk back in front of Aria, who is in the same exact position I left her in, and I gently grab her wrist to start to wipe myself off of her palm. When I’ve made sure I’ve thoroughly cleaned her hand, she slowly releases it from mine as she looks up at me. “Thanks,” Aria says in a faint voice.
I fold the hand towel and throw it on the floor for now, then grip either side of her waist with my hands. Aria leans back against the wall, her ample breasts and tight stomach on display in her white lace bra and high-waisted ruched skirt. Aria cups either side of my face, and before we know it, our mouths find each other again.
No words have to be spoken about what just transpired against the wall of this hallway, and for this single moment, we choose each other.
What a beautiful moment it is.
Sunday, July 24, 2022
It’s ten o’clock in the morning, and I’m peeking out the window to make sure Dane is nowhere in sight before I leave for my run on the boardwalk. As incredible as last night was for us, my heart is no longer in control of my emotions. Instead, my mind has seized control, and familiar feelings of guilt force my temporary happiness to crash and burn.
Once I realize the coast is clear, I quickly step out my front door, down my porch steps, and start jogging toward the boardwalk. My body is on autopilot as it moves my legs to exercise, because the only thought consuming every inch of my mind is Dane and me.
Dane and I against the wall of his hallway.
Dane and I clawing at each other for sexual relief.
It was raw, primal, and untamed.
I haven’t felt that kind of passion in over a year, and my need for Dane scares me more than anything. I fell into his touch like it was second nature, and air I needed to breathe. His touch was tantalizing and dug up something that’s been buried deep inside of me for so long. When I was with Dane last night, it was the first time I felt like I was freed from the prison I’ve been caged in for over a year, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want more than just last night.
I do want more.
So much more.
How could something so wrong, feel so damn right at the same time? How did it happen that the first person I have intimate feelings for, turns out to be the very person I shouldn’t have those feelings for at all? I know the right thing to do here is to stop this before it gets out of control. My feelings should be put to the side because the reality is, my loyalty to Kyle still matters to me. He’s gone, but he’s still a part of me. I refuse to betray him, and if I continue to act on my feelings with Dane, what does that show? It would show that Kyle didn’t mean that much to me. Almost like he was just an obstacle in my way while he was alive, and now that he’s gone, I can have who I want to have.
I feel my eyes start to swell, and I feel mentally exhausted and drained, but I keep moving my legs across the wood of the boardwalk. I start to jog faster, trying to physically escape the emotional torture I’m subjected to by life’s turn of events. I stomp my feet harder on the wooden planks of the boardwalk and breathe heavier with every push forward. I start to feel the physical effects of my run, and my breaths are coming out shorter as I exert more energy. Between thoughts of Dane and I, and trying to catch my breath, I make an abrupt stop at the wooden railing of the boardwalk, hanging my forearms over it to steady myself.
I inhale and exhale with deep, intentional breaths. I keep my head and eyes trained at my feet on the boardwalk, unable to look at the scenery or people around me. It’s a warm and cloudless sunny day, and I hear conversations and laughs all about. This day could not be any more beautiful when looking from the outside-in. But the truth is, my invisible shackles have reclaimed my wrists today, and it feels like I’m being taunted by the happiness around me.
* * *
When I make it back home, I’m profusely sweating from the hot summer day and my cardio. I strip my clothes off as soon as I make it to my bedroom, and I hop in the shower. As the warm water rains over me, I place two palms against the tile and just stand under the falling water, almost in a trance-like state. It feels good to be boxed in this shower and not have to face reality.
Like a small cocoon hiding me from the rest of the world.
The cloud nine I was floating on last night has officially drifted away, and I’m left haunted by feelings of shame and disappointment. But the worst part of it all is that my feelings of shame don’t come from regretting last night. Instead, I feel shameful for wanting and needing Dane as much as I did.
As much as I still do.
