24 | 3am
This chapter contains sexual content.
I take off my shirt and pants, left in my underwear. I can’t bring myself to get naked despite what he’s already seen. Rubbing my lips together, I turn to the joint and lighter awaiting us on the sink counter.
Without looking at Spencer I ask, “may I?”
“Be my guest.”
I set the joint between my lips and light it, hands trembling vigorously. I press my palm to my forehead, elbow on the counter, joint between my index and middle finger. I feel lightheaded but I know it’s not only from the smoke. I shouldn’t be here. Why am I here? I inhale again, trying to find answers, but none come to me.
I pass the joint to Spencer without meeting his eyes and I go back to the mirror. I catch my reflection in it, noticing how some makeup has smeared under my bottom lashes. I furrow my brows, swiping it away with my fingers before standing up straight and attempting to appear proud. I tense my collarbones. How bizarre all of this is. I have a moment where I can’t believe anything is real.
Spencer whistles at me. I snap my head in his direction and take the joint back, sitting on the closed toilet lid, crossing my legs. He stares at me but I pit all my focus onto the shower wall. My hands are still shaking. I am nervous, ashamed, but cannot fathom being anywhere else for the time being. It shouldn’t be this way but it is.
We finish smoking in silence. I’m high as a kite. My skin tingles and I feel like I’m floating somewhere among the clouds. I am no longer anxious and I feel as demure as I can be in my undergarments. Spencer won’t stop staring at me. I bite my lip and stand, turning off the light in the center of the ceiling but leaving the four above the mirror on. The light is dimmer, less gaudy, evincing a sense of liaison within the room. I face Spencer.
“Close your eyes,” I tell him. He listens.
I watch him to make sure he doesn’t peek as I remove my undergarments. I stand denuded for a heartbeat before stepping into the bathtub. He still doesn’t open his eyes as I sit down between his legs, pulling my knees to my chest. The water encloses my skin in a hot, steaming embrace. I let out a breath.
“You can open them,” I say. So he does.
“How kind of you to finally join me,” he teases. I try to hide a smile by burying my mouth in my arm but I know I fail.
We observe each other carefully. His countenance glows from the mist rising from the water. I scour his face, appreciating his full lips, angular cheekbones, roman nose and wide hooded eyes. He certainly is handsome, features making him seem older than he is. It had been hard to predict what he would’ve grown up to look like when he was younger. There was no one to compare him to.
“Perfection,” he blinks at me slowly, the haze in his grey eyes seductive.
We think and act at the same time. I uproot myself and he holds his arms out for me. I throw myself right into them, latching onto him, cheek pressed against his chest as water tickles my chin. He places one hand on my lower back, the other underneath my hair. I shut my eyes; relaxed, vulnerable, completely unguarded. I cannot help myself. Spencer poses no threat.
“I’m glad you’re here,” he whispers.
“You’re just high,” I laugh. He doesn’t respond, but he begins playing with my hair.
I’m so tranquil I feel that I can fall asleep. The smell of the soap only lulls me closer to a quiet place to rest. The way Spencer holds me is the closest I’ve felt to being safe in a long time. Terrence isn’t even the slightest bleep on my radar. He seems so trivial now, so far away. Everything is like a dream. I stir the water with my fingers before tracing them up and down Spencer’s ribcage.
“What changed with Beth?” he asks out of nowhere. I hum thoughtfully.
“Like Terrence said, I came to my senses,” I rub my lips together. “After all, I’m here and she’s off doing whatever it is she’s doing. Her life hasn’t stopped. I’m sure she’s not thriving but she isn’t anyone’s prisoner. It was exhausting defending her so I quit.”
“Do you still love her?”
“In a way, I guess. I love the image I had of her but I do not love the Beth that willingly offered me to her ex-husband. It’s an ugly image,” I sigh. “I had been in denial honestly but a few weeks gave me the cure I needed since the beginning.”
“If I had the chance, I would hit her in the face with my gun again,” he confides angrily. “My only regret is that I didn’t hit her harder.”
“I understand why you feel that way,” I nod, sneaking my hand to his shoulder before replacing it on his ribcage. “But I would much rather never see her again even though it’s difficult picturing a life without her in it. I do not want to see her hurting. She doesn’t deserve my sympathy or pity because even if I don’t want to give it to her she will still receive it from me.”
“You once asked me how I thought this all will end,” he reminds me. “I cannot see you being here forever. You are in need of more. I cannot assist you but I won’t stop you, either.”
“I don’t expect you to help me,” I shake my head. “I don’t even want your help. I was never one for group projects. I work better alone.”
“I don’t want anything bad happening to you. I have one suggestion,” he pauses. “Run for the hills. Get as far away as you can and don’t ever turn to look back.”
“That’s the plan, man.”
Spencer chuckles from above me and then there is silence again. I tune into our breathing. It’s simpatico. I can’t believe something so invigorating can be so wrong. If Terrence were to find out he would kill Spencer yet I had never considered what he would do to me. I can imagine the punishment would be severe because he would devise it out of jealousy. I scrunch my face as I think about it. Terrence is cruel. He can also be downright wicked.
“What if I did want to help you?” Spencer asks. “What if I wanted to come with you?”
“But you don’t,” I say, furrowing my brows.
“But say if I did, would you let me?”
I open my eyes and sit up, locking contact. My hair, soaked and heavy, shelters my breasts. He glances at what’s hidden for a fleeting second before meeting my gaze once again. His hands grip my waist and his jaw clenches. I take a deep breath.
“Why are you asking me this?”
“Because I enjoy having you here and I realize if you get out I will never see you again. At first the possibility didn’t impact me in any way but now it does,” he presses a tongue to his cheek. “I would just like to know if I ever decided I wanted to come with you, would you let me?”
“I would let you come with me, yes,” I nod. “But eventually we would have to go our separate ways.”
“Because you want children and you would never want me as the father,” his face hardens with what looks like resentment. He removes a hand from my waist to brush all my hair behind my back, exposing my chest to him. He meets my eyes again. “I know in time you would forget about me. I wouldn’t be so much as a distant memory.”
“Forget you?” I repeat, incredulous. I smile and laugh, shaking my head. “How could I forget you? I’d forget Terrence before I forgot you. I do not want to forget you, but it would not destroy me to leave you in my past.”
“You told me once that we weren’t friends. You may not consider me your friend, but I consider you mine. I know you, I like you, and I care about you,” he cups my cheek with his hand. “But I am tethered here. If I were to run with you, it wouldn’t be only Terrence that hunts me. If I stay back, I can make sure he never finds you again. I think that is what makes me your friend whether you like it or not.”
“If I wasn’t here, we would never have become friends,” I shrug. “We’re friends of convenience. That is all. You must know none of this is genuine. It’s all situational.”
“No,” Spencer shakes his head. “Because I will miss you, regardless if you miss me or not.”
He pulls me close to him, hand moving from cheek to hair as he kisses me. The water sloshes around wildly and I hook onto the nape of Spencer’s neck. I straddle him as best as I can, breathing heavily. His other hand finds my breast and he kneads it tenderly. I begin moving against him, unable to stop myself. The blood flowing through me ignites. I’m high and climbing higher.
Spencer breaks free from my lips and kisses my cheeks, my jaw, tilting my head back. His lips are like a flurry on my neck, making their way down to my breast. I moan as his mouth covers my nipple, teasing, licking, grazing expertly against it with his teeth. I feel the sensation travel down to my knees and I shudder. His tongue, warm, causes my eyes to roll back in my head. Don’t. Stop.
He moves onto my other nipple, kneading the one he leaves behind. His breathing is tremulous, labored; hands aggressive, voracious. My fingers extend into his hairline and I push my chest further out. I don’t feel shy. My nails dig into his scalp. My head is rolling around. My skin is on fire. I’m moaning so loud. My nipples are erect, sensitive. Oh. My. God.
He stops and his lips are on mine again, a finger suddenly inside of me. I sigh into him, electricity pooling between my legs. He adds another finger, thumb circling around the small ball of nerves. I breathe heavily but silently against his lips until I can’t continue. I bury my face in his neck, arms limp as the rest of me buzzes with life and ecstasy.
“I want to fuck you,” he growls in my ear.
“Okay,” I gasp.
He takes his fingers out of me and we stand. He garners my hand in his as we leave the bathroom, a trail of bubbles and water following us into his bedroom. I sit on the edge of the bed as he puts on a condom, discarding the wrapper onto his nightstand. He turns on his lamp. He pounces. There’s a scuffle as we make our way to the pillows. There’s kissing. So much kissing. So many hands. I have a hold on his face and then my wrists are pinned above my head.
“Are you sure?” he asks one last time. I give him one nod and it’s enough. Another kiss is planted on my lips.
I spread my legs. The way our eyes meet heightens the intensity of the event. He’s intimidatingly large. I’ve never had sex with someone as well-endowed. I gulp, nervous but ready. He slowly inches himself inside, attentive to my winces. My eyes water and my brows furrow, mouth open as I throw my head back. I moan from pain, fingers digging into my palms. Don’t let me go. Don’t let me go.
“Are you okay?” he grits out, voice strained. I nod, biting my lip.
Tentatively he starts thrusting his hips, pressing himself very close to me. He keeps one hand on my wrists, placing his available forearm under my neck for support. The motions hurt at first; stinging, burning, aching. Drawls replace moans. His finger grazes one of my palms and all my fingers attack in response. It takes so much effort to breathe. Don’t Stop. Please. Don’t stop.
Spencer kisses my earlobe, my forehead, before adhering to the sensitive vein in my neck. I’m pulsating, breathing hard and fast. He starts moving in unison to my pants. I’m sweating, shivering, seeing stars on the ceiling. I cannot decide between keeping my eyes closed or open. Spencer goes quicker and quicker. We slide down, have to readjust, then he’s brisker than before. It doesn’t hurt anymore. I start moving in rhythm with him. We’re both moaning.
His fingertips dig into my wrists. He stops kissing my neck, returning to my lips. The kisses are fervent but distracted. I wrap my legs around him and he’s deeper inside me now. I let out a cry but it ends in a moan. His breathing is heavier but lower. My stomach has butterflies. All I can feel is his thrusts, his anguish, his depravity. He’s completely lost himself.
“Spencer,” I moan, mindful of my volume. Oh my God. “Oh, Spencer.”
He begins elevating himself, both hands on my wrists now. His face twists. My legs fall. Perspiration drips from his forehead onto my stomach. He’s moaning louder than I am. The bed is squeaking, headboard pounding into the wall, synchronized with Spencer’s thrusts. It’s like witnessing an exorcism. He is completely taken over. It might be the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen. I picture it as I close my eyes, electrified.
“Fuck, Blythe,” he wails. “You feel so good.”
He maxes out his speed. I can’t keep up but I try. My moans sound like laments. I must feel what he feels. I raise my hips off the bed and Spencer hisses through his teeth. He might leave bruises on my wrists but I don’t care. None of it matters. I have a galaxy behind my eyelids that gather to form his face. I hear our skin clapping together briefly but it’s drowned out by Spencer’s depraved melody. My fingers bloom, feet scraping against the bed.
I release. And then Spencer does. He keeps thrusting as he chokes out breaths, winding down in stages before collapsing on top of me. We breath heavily, wheezing, drenched with our dew. He throbs inside of me and I feel quivering between my legs. My toes and fingers curl. His face is between my neck and shoulder. I open my eyes, vision blurry. His hands, although still on my wrists, go slack.
I unfetter myself, my fingers in his hair. It feels surreal, us being knotted in one another after having sex. It’s something we can’t take back. Wow. My mind feels so numb. I just lay there, tired, nothing to say. I feel as sober as ever. He hasn’t moved an inch. Is he going to fall asleep? What do I do? I can’t stay here the whole night.
He wraps his arms arounds me. He kisses me. He kisses me a lot. He’s a kisser; how have I not noticed this until now? I can’t say I dislike it. He pulls himself out of me, taking off the condom as he walks away. I curl into the fetal position, watching the door. The bathroom is adjacent to the bedroom so I can’t see him but I hear him unplug the bathtub. He goes someplace else, a room on the other end of the suite, and comes back with two plastic water bottles.
I drink half the bottle before setting it on his nightstand. I’m ready to put my clothes on; Terrence might be ready to go to bed soon if he hasn’t already retired for the night.
Spencer rests his hand on the curve of my waist.
“Stay for a while.”
I go to say something but it’s as if my voice has been stolen. Nothing comes out. I should leave as soon as possible but I don’t want to move. I won’t fall asleep—at least I’ll try not to. I don’t think I will, I feel pretty awake. But I should also leave—leaving would be the better idea. I feel that I’m not thinking straight. I’m all over the place. It occurs to me how serious this is. Is it serious? I can’t tell now.
“You don’t have to,” he reminds me.
“I know,” I nod. I don’t move.
“If you’re staying the night would you care if I came a little closer?” It’s cheeky, cute. I turn off the lamp before rolling onto my back.
He rests his head on my bare chest, arms like chains around me. Our legs mingle like vines. I hold him tightly to me and close my eyes. Don’t fall asleep. Don’t fall asleep.
His thumbs draw nonsense on my skin. He has me under his spell. He is dangerous to me; he can distract me and take me off my path. I don’t want to fall asleep but I feel so pacified. There is no speaking between us which makes it easy to drift off. I try focusing on the motions of his thumbs but eventually they stop. His breathing slows. He’s fallen asleep.
I don’t mean to do it, it just happens. I join him. I have very vivid dreams at some point and then I wake up. It’s nearly pitch black. It still looks like night from what I see through the curtain of the window. My face rests on his shoulder, his arm around me. From the way the covers are in disarray I assume we rolled around a bit. I lean over and check the time on his alarm clock. It’s 3am.
I glance at Spencer’s face and he’s awake, too.
“Just a little longer,” he croons, clutching my breast.
I close my eyes. I’m done for.