Page 48 of See No Evil

The sound of his balls slapping against her pussy resounded in the room as they spoke to one another, professing their love for each other. Neither wanted to release the other from the warm, all-encompassing embrace.

But then, she leaned into him and stopped riding on a dime. Their eyes locked. Her beautiful lips parted, and she purred, then sighed… He ran his hands slowly up and down her back, knowing it was coming. The shake. The tremble. The damn near convulsions he extracted from her, each time he made her climax.

She held him so tight. Quivering like an earthquake. Trickles of pussy juice ran down his dick as she cried out, arriving at her orgasmic destination. When she settled, he placed her on her back, grabbed her legs, and pushed her knees up to her ears.

He slid back inside her…

They sighed at the same time as he bottomed her out, nice and slow. His palms rested on her knees as he pivoted his hips back and forth. Deep. Deeper. Deepest. As he looked into her eyes, he saw himself once again. This time, unlike the piece of broken mirror that caught his reflection after his fight with Axel, he didn’t feel useless, broken, or ruined. In her eyes, he had purpose. A place to stay dry and warm after being caught in the storm. Her pussy was a sensual haven. Her heart, his claim and domain. From the top of his head to the bottom of his feet, he felt a tingling all over. He became lightheaded trying to fight the feeling—he simply had to give in.

“Fuck… I’m ’bout to cum, baby…” He closed his eyes tight, lay flat against her and pounded the shit out of her, rocking his hipsin rapid thrusts. She fucked him back, rocking and rolling her hips, squeezing her pussy as he thrust inside of her.

“LET ME FEEL IT! CUM, BABY! Cum on, Legend!”

“AHHH!… UH! UH!!! SHIT!” The climatic spasms made him feel as if his body had a mind of its own, captive to her and her alone. His body had been trained by her. Like a dog. The snap of her pussy, and he was putty in her palms—officially owned by Desiree Washington.

Church.

Bazzi’s, ‘I.F.L.Y.’ (I fucking love you) played as they lay there, tumbled together. Humbled together.

As the minutes passed, he resigned himself to the fact that this was it. He’d reached the finish line of any uncertainty he may have held onto. He wasn’t fucking this woman. He’d been making love to her. His head hurt, his heart thudded, and as he listened to her heartbeat sprinting while lying on her breasts, eyes closed, his body turned languid, and his mind raced. He understood now more than ever that Ms. Florence had given him an assignment, but he never turned in his report. What would be his final grade?

He rose up to take in her face. Her eyes were glossy, but she closed them tight, pushing the emotion away right before his eyes. When she reopened them, they were trained upon him, looking through his soul. She gathered the sheets around herself and briefly looked away. There was no need to say it. To define it. She had to know that he was so in love with her, it hurt. Every kiss was delivered with passion. Each shared laugh was thunderous and from the gut. He prayed that the tears would be few and far between.

“Legend?”

“Yeah?” He slipped away from her, reached for a cigarette on his nightstand, and lit it.

She didn’t say anything else for a long while. He got comfortable, crawled under the sheets, pulled them to his waist, hand behind his head, resting on a pillow. He looked up at his ceiling and imagined what Heaven looked like, but then, he looked at her, and realized Heaven was already home. It looked like Desiree.

She stood, and instead of joining him sitting against the headboard, she began collecting her clothing.

“What… what are you doing?”

“Leaving.”

He leaned forward.

“Why?”

“Legend… you don’t get to do this to me.” Her voice rattled like rusty chains. “I have opened up to you when you knew it was hard for me too. I have connected with you, allowed you to use my time, energy, and my body. Yeah, you don’t have to say it. I know it was mutual, and nobody forced me to do anything. I used yours, too, but the way you’ve been pulling away lately… I… I can’t.” She waved her hand about and then exhaled. “My damn panties are in your living room, and those dogs are out there. I can’t get them.” Her shoulders slumped.

“A second ago, you said, ‘I can’t.’ You can’t what?”

“I don’t know if I can trust you. That’s what. You either have someone else, but want to keep me too, or you’re holding somethin’ too close to your heart, and not letting me in. Either way, I can’t participate in this. My emotions are being toyed with. I don’t do anything half-assed. I go all in. Anything you’ve wanted to know, I’ve told you. I’ve been an open cookbook, with extra recipes in the back! Full color, glossy, limited edition! You know that I love you, but I canstillturn away. Where it’s safe! I. DON’T. WANT. TO. GET. HURT! But you’ve already hurt me. I refuse to be taken for a ride!”

She screamed so loud, her voice rang in his ears. He crushed the cigarette in the ashtray, jumped out of the bed, and grabbed her—trying to hold her, stop her from leaving. She struggled in his embrace, fighting him, trying to wiggle free, but he wouldn’t let her. He held her to him, forcing her to settle down. Resting her head against his chest, her face turned away from him, she inhaled deeply, then exhaled, as if she’d been running a marathon.

“It’s not you, baby. I’ve had a lot on my mind. I shouldn’t have shut you out. I’m used to handling things on my own. I fucked up… I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, baby.” He rocked her, kissed the top of her head. Squeezed her. “And I don’t have another girl. I only have you. I only wantyou. You’re more than enough.”

They stood there for a long while, swaying slowly to the sounds of Gesaffelstein & The Weeknd’s ‘Lost in the Fire.’ Finally, he took her hand and led her across the room—to his closet. She stood there, looking confused, with her deep-set, heavy-lidded almond shaped eyes. Long, thick lashes. High cheekbones. Impeccable bone structure. Healthy, thick hair. Soft, lovely lips. Big breasts with juicy, dark nipples. Wide hips. Long, curvy legs. A nice, high, round behind. Skin softer than butter…

She was mentally and emotionally naked. Vulnerable. Beautiful in her birthday suit. A swell of bitter acid rushed from his gut to his throat as he yanked the closet door open, and turned on the light. Exposing himself, too…

She took a step forward, then another. Releasing his hand, she looked around, her gaze traveling from left to right, up and down. Her fingers dragged along the taped photos. The countless handwritten notes. Maps with circled addresses. Violent rantings. Prayer candles. And her eyes watered. Would she understand? Would she know what she was seeing? He had no idea… but he was about to find out…

Chapter Fifteen

It was likean alter…

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