Page 66 of Tap Left
I’ve been so angry for so long that I never really considered how much pain he has suffered too. And when I reach out to touch him, I cry for real.
“Lola,” Daire chastises. “Stop it.”
His cock has deflated, and this is the worst way I could have handled this, but I wasn’t prepared.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper.
Determined to make him feel like a man again, I take off my panties and straddle him. My hips are stretched wide over his body, and it feels like the one and only time I rode a horse. I tell him so, and some of the tension dissipates with the rumble of his laughter.
“Lean forward,” he says. “I want to play with your tits.”
I do what he asks, and after several moments of dedicated worship to my boobs, he’s hard all over again. He grips my hip and squeezes his cock inside of me on a sigh.
“Mmm,” he murmurs. “Ride me, baby.”
I don’t actually have to ride him because Daire drives my hips with his hands. All I can do is hang on and try not to black out. It feels amazing. It feels like twelve years of pent-up pressure is about to explode inside of me. When it does, I think I do blackout for at least a second.
“Fuckkkkkk.” Daire unloads himself with one last violent thrust, impaling me on his cock.
I collapse on his chest, and Daire pulls up the sheets. There isn’t another word between us.
25
Lola
Everything is alwaysdifferent in the light of a new day, and today is no exception.
This time of year is always difficult for me. I’m a powder keg of emotions, and it takes very little to set me off. Grief and guilt have ruled my life for so long that I’m not sure I’d know how to function without them. But when I open my eyes this morning, they are noticeably absent.
Whatever happened between Daire and I last night was powerfully cathartic in a way I could have never predicted. But my troubled emotions aren’t the only thing missing when I examine the empty space beside me.
The shower is on again, and the bathroom door is closed, and maybe it’s just a habit, but it feels like so much more. A closed door is not an invitation to come closer. A closed door doesn’t need an underlying reason. It’s precisely what it’s meant to be.
A barrier between us.
My phone pings from beneath my pillow, and I’d forgotten that I even hid it there last night. When I retrieve it, I have two new messages waiting for me.
ThatGuy:
Morning Sunshine. Can I interest you in a warm cup of yogurt?
LolaB:
You’re a pervert. I think you deserve sitting in the same room with Mr. Ellis every day.
ThatGuy:
That hits me right in the feels, Lola. Be careful with your words, you can’t take them back.
Isendhim an emoji and toss my legs over the side of the bed.
ThatGuy:
One more week. Call me #excited. Are you?
One more week? I check my calendar app and realize he’s right. A sickening feeling blooms in my stomach. The clock is ticking and soon, Daire and I will go back to nothing. At least that was the plan, but I don’t see how it’s possible.
I know it’s what I promised, but we’ve been together. We’ve been together almost every day for two weeks, and he’s been inside of me, and not just my heart this time. I have a slight moment of panic when I realize that I don’t want it to end. I don’t want to let Daire go, and that scares me more than anything. But then I stare at that closed bathroom door and accept that I’ll have to. This is what we agreed on.
