Part 11 (1/2)

”All right,” he said, and he pressed his c.o.c.k up into my b.r.e.a.s.t.s and then against my face. He was so anxious to have me touch him that he could not lie still. Usually he let me set the pace and the depth, but not that time. He kept lifting his hips and pus.h.i.+ng into the roof of my mouth and the back of my throat. He came in no time, and it was so far back in my throat I couldn't even taste it.

After, we lay together, and he touched my face and wrapped his hands in my hair.

”You all right?”

”I'm okay,” I said.

”You sure?”

”It just made my nose run.”

We lay together not talking, then Del said, ”Bring your puss up here.”

”We can wait.”

”What, do you have your period?”

I didn't say anything, and he moved his hand down to the soft part of my belly, waiting.

”I don't care if there's blood,” he said, reaching down to touch the hair. ”I ate you before like that.”

”I'm not bleeding. It's not that.”

”Then let me. I've been waiting six weeks for some p.u.s.s.y.”

”Could you just slow down?” I said. ”Just give me a chance?”

”Give you a chance? What do you mean?”

I couldn't tell him the truth about Kevin Keel or my scar, and I also couldn't tell him how he seemed like a stranger to me just then. Even though he just came in my throat, I felt that I hardly knew him.

”I just have to get used to you again,” I said. As soon as I said the words, I knew I'd hurt him, and I knew he'd have to hurt me back.

”What the f.u.c.k, Vangie? I waited six weeks for you and that's all you can say?”

”I waited six weeks for you, too.”

”You don't act like it. What's wrong with you anyway? You used to like to get your p.u.s.s.y f.u.c.ked.”

”I'm glad you're home,” I said, trying to make my voice steady. ”I just need to get used to being with you again.”

”What's there to get used to?”

”Everything,” I said. ”All of it.” I did not say, You.

We lay there not touching, not talking, and after a while, I sat up. I could tell from Del's silence that he thought I was moving away from him, getting out of bed. But that's not what I did. I got on my hands and knees, facing away from him, so he could see my a.s.s and between my legs. I knew he was watching me, and I knew it was all I needed to do. I wanted to end the fight, and I knew I could do it more easily with my body than I could with my voice.

”What's that for?”

”I want you.”

”Do you?” he said. ”You want some of my c.o.c.k?”

I wanted him to get up inside me and erase anything left from Kevin Keel. I didn't want to see his face while he did it, and I didn't want him to see mine. And I wanted to stop thinking.

”Tell me, Vangie. Tell me you want some of my c.o.c.k.”

I didn't say anything at first, just went on kneeling and letting him look at me. Then I started rocking back and forth, arching my back and rubbing my b.r.e.a.s.t.s over the sheet.

”I want you to f.u.c.k me,” I told him.

As soon as I said it, he moved into me.

Even as I was grunting under his weight, or reaching out to slip my hand between his hips and my c.u.n.t so I could feel the root of his c.o.c.k, I'd get a flash in my mind of Kevin Keel. But I pushed the thought from my mind, and I pushed it from my mind, and in the end it stayed away.

Del had an o.r.g.a.s.m in a couple minutes. It wasn't like the nights when he was drunk and could f.u.c.k for an hour without coming. This was probably one of the few times he f.u.c.ked me sober.

”You scared me there for a minute,” Del said after a bit. ”I thought you didn't like to screw anymore.”

When I didn't answer, Del said, ”No, that's a lie. I didn't think that.”

”What did you think?”

”I thought you didn't like me anymore.”

I didn't say anything, but I squeezed him with the muscles inside me and b.u.mped back against him. He still seemed like a stranger to me, but there was no way for me to explain that to him. Anyway, maybe I was the stranger. While we were apart, things had happened to me, too.

We lay together for a while and Del got soft inside me. He slipped out, slip, just like that, and when he moved off me, he said, ”I'm going to wake you up in the middle of the night and make you come. You need it, too.”

I felt a little of his come seeping out of me, and I rolled onto my side to grab a handful of tissues from the box on the floor.

”I took care of myself while you were gone,” I said.

”Did you?”

”A little.”

”You lie, Vangie. You probably m.a.s.t.u.r.b.a.t.ed every night.”

I thought about how close he was to the truth, and how far, but there was no point in thinking like that. ”I didn't do it every night,” I said. ”But I did do it.”

”I'm glad. I'm glad you took care of yourself.”