She's sitting on the bed, her palms pressed against her thighs, my jacket lying behind her.
I give her a long once-over. Something is different. Wrong.
She looks up at me. Her lips part. There's something on the tip of her tongue, but she swallows it down.
"You okay?" I ask.
She stares back at me like it's the most complicated question she's ever heard. "Maybe."
"Maybe?"
Her eyes fix on me. "Maybe."
"Anything I can do?"
Her voice drops to something low and needy. "Fuck me."
It's a weird request.
But I can't exactly complain.
I sit on the bed next to her. "That's really what you want?"
She climbs into my lap, wraps one arm around my waist, slides the other into my hair. "That's everything I want."
Her lips brush mine. It's soft. Then hard.
My tongue slides into her mouth. Dances with hers.
My need pours into her. This is such a fucked-up mess. I'm pathetic and cold-hearted in equal measure.
But she isn't running for the hills. She's here.
She's mine.
Fuck, she's really mine.
I slide my hand into her hair.
She does away with my t-shirt then climbs onto the bed. She falls onto her back and presses her knees together.
Her blue eyes meet mine. They promise the fucking world.
For once, I want that.
I want everything she can give me.
I nod to the bedside table.
She reaches for it, pulls the drawer open, pulls out a condom. She stares back into my eyes as she pulls her dress over her head.
My fingertips skim her ankles. The inside of her knees. Her inner thighs.
They curl into the straps of her panties.
Her eyelids flutter closed. Her breath catches in her throat. "Please."
Slowly, I roll her panties to her ankles.