Faster, harder, deeper. His pace is relentless. It slams me hard into the bed, the rope around my ankles digging sharply into my skin with each thrust.
Pain never felt so good.
So, so good.
And obviously good for him too. I can see him starting to lose control, dipping over the edge. His eyes burn into mine, and then he’s in deep, so deep that he’s shaking and muttering my name in low, guttural tones.
Before he totally loses it, he sticks his fingers in his mouth and then places them at my clit, rubbing, swirling, faster, faster.
It sets me off in a hot second, and once again I’m floating, flying, but this time I’m with him, and we’re riding it together, our bodies joined inside and out. For this moment, we are one, falling together.
Vicente collapses against me, his hard body sweaty and sliding against mine. His breath is rough and steady in my ear, and his lips brush my neck briefly. I want to hold on to him, to feel his skin as it calms, but I can’t move. I think my arms are asleep.
Once he catches his breath, he places a soft kiss on my forehead, then pulls out. He takes the condom off, disposing of it in the trash before he comes back and starts to undo the tie around my wrists.
He moves to my ankles, slowly unwrapping them.
He makes a tsk sound and I look up, shaking out my arms and trying to get the feeling back into them.
He gently runs his fingers over the welts the ropes made on my ankles, then kisses the red marks. It only stings a bit.
“Sorry,” he says softly, placing my feet back down.
“Worth it,” I tell him. And I mean it.
He smiles at me and holds out his hands to pull me up.
“Now, how about we get some fucking food?”
I laugh, letting him pull me to my feet. Holy shit. My entire body feels brand new.
“I have to admit, I’m not sure I feel like going to a restaurant after all this,” I tell him.
“Room service?”
“Yes, please.”
“Only if we can eat naked though. And maybe if I can eat dessert right off of you.”
My god. This man doesn’t stop.
I don’t think I’d want it any other way.
I watch as Vicente drives off, the lights of the Mustang disappearing into the fog. The chilled air rushes against me as it passes, but my shivers aren’t from the cold. They’re from the impossibility of everything that just happened.
I look up at the house and see the light on in the living room but no shadows, no movement. I immediately start walking down the street, smiling into the night. I need time to process everything that happened. I can’t be alone in my room, trying to contain myself. I can’t talk to Mom and Dad. I just need to be free.
I head down to Haight, the only place that feels remotely safe at eleven at night. A lot of the bars are still open and tourists still walk the streets. I move anonymously among them with no direction in mind.
My body is humming with electricity. I feel his lips between my thighs, his teeth at my nipples, his hard length inside me. I can see his eyes, relive what it was like to lose all sense of self. It was like the opposite of time travel. No past, no future—there was nothing in those moments with him except for what was happening, sweaty second by sweaty second.
God. We were fucking animals.
I’m still in shock. There’s only the new camera at my side and the sweet stiffness between my legs to tell me that what happened was real.
I was thoroughly fucked by Vicente.
Over and over and over again.
In a way I never imagined.
He made me step away from myself. He pulled me out of that prison. He opened my eyes to a reality I didn’t think I could be a part of.
He made my weaknesses my strengths.
He made them raw and beautiful.
I don’t see how my life can possibly go back to normal after this.
I must have walked up and down the main five blocks of this street a few times before my phone buzzes.
In a stupor I pull it out, half-expecting it to be Ginny following up on her earlier threat (my god was that only today?) but instead it’s Ben. Not exactly who I want to talk to when I’m still recovering from post-coital bliss, but he rarely calls.
I pick it up. “Hey.”
Even though I sound pretty fucking cheerful, he answers with a stiff, “Hey.”
I decide to cross the street at Masonic and head back up the hill. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”
“Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay. I…um,” he clears his throat, “was doing some research on Dad.”
I can feel my orgasmic glow drain out of me and I suddenly stop in my tracks. A man in a dark blue coat who must have been walking closely behind me, bumps into my shoulder, spinning me around.
I grumble at the man who turns to the right and keeps walking down the hill. “Sorry,” I say to Ben. “What did you find?”
Silence fills the line but then I hear him breathing. “Ben?” I prompt. I stand at the corner, wondering if I should head down the street or up. It’s then that I notice the man that bumped into me. He’s stopped, waiting a few stores down, collar up and hat down, partially obscuring a very pale face.
The hairs at the back of my neck rise.
Something’s not right.
“Yeah,” he says. “Sorry. It’s…I found another clip online. Just something short. From 2014. It wasn’t about Dad so much as about something else. He was mentioned at the end as being falsely blamed for the kidnapping of a…of a woman and her three-year-old son. But it wasn’t him, it was these two brothers with ties to the mafia.”