Page 41 of Praying for Rain

Wes.

“Yeah?” I rasp, that fucking noose tightening around my throat again.

Rain’s hands slide to my cheeks. “What’s your name? Your whole name?”

I wish I could see her face. I wish I could see the sincere curiosity I hear in her voice shining out of those big blue doll eyes.

“Wesson Patrick Parker.” I swallow, but the noose only tightens.

“I thought you might be a Wesson.” Rain presses her little feet against my ass and tilts her hips up, drawing me back into her molten heaven.

“What’s yours?” I manage to choke out, burying myself in it to the hilt.

“Rainbow Song Williams.”

I retreat slowly, missing her with every inch, and thrust back in again. “What does it mean?”

Rain moans softly and wraps her arms around my back. I slide my hands under her shoulders and lie flush on top of her, wondering if she can feel my heart pounding the way I can.

“It’s the title of a song by that band, America, from the ‘70s.” Rain nuzzles her face into the side of my neck and plants a kiss there. “It’s kinda sad actually. It’s about a girl who fell asleep on a rainbow while she was hiding from blowing leaves and broken dreams.”

I brace myself on my forearms and look into the reflective pools of her eyes. “It sounds like you.” I watch them crinkle at the corners as she smiles, and before she can say another word, I surprise myself by sitting back on my haunches and pulling her up with me. Rain sinks down onto my dick again, and we’re just like we were before—her ass in my hands, her parted lips on mine, and her fingers running through my hair.

Fucking perfect.

Her movements are less tender now. More desperate. Mine feel less awkward, more confident. Rain nips at my tongue with her teeth as she slides up and down on my cock. I slap her ass and grin as she tugs on my hair in response. This isn’t what she did in the dark with What’s-his-face. This is what she does in the dark with me. And, when she moans my name again, I fucking know it.

“Wes,” she chants, her voice a breathy plea as her ass slaps against my thighs, and her tight little slit squeezes me even harder. “Wes …”

The feeling of Rain coming all over my cock with my name on her lips and my head in her hands is unlike anything I’ve ever experienced before. It shatters me. A tear rips through my heart as I clutch her panting, writhing body—just like that Twenty One Pilots motherfucker said it would—because I want this. I want her. But how can I keep her when everybody fucking leaves?

My hips jerk and my balls tighten as I thrust up into her. I know I should pull out. I always pull out. But, as my dick swells and stiffens inside her pulsating body, I just … can’t. Not this time. Nothing has ever felt more right in my whole fucked up life, so I decide to let myself have it. I’m a selfish bastard, and I want this.

I want Rain.

With a final surge, I coil my arms tighter around her waist and pour everything I fucking have into a girl I just met yesterday. As my cock jerks and spurts hot cum inside her still-trembling body, the pressure in my chest and the noose around my throat fade away, replaced with something warm and fuzzy and completely foreign.

Hope.

April 22

Rain

“That one looks like a cupcake.” I smile, squinting up into the afternoon sky.

Wes and I are lying on a red-and-white-plaid blanket in the middle of Old Man Crocker’s overgrown field, watching a parade of clouds float by. He pulls me into his side and kisses the top of my head. I feel it sizzle all the way down to my toes, like a bolt of lightning.

“You’re adorable … because that’s clearly the dog shit emoji.”

“Oh my God.” I giggle. “You’re right!”

“I know.” Wes shrugs, my head on his shoulder rising and falling along with the movement. “I’m always right.”

“What do you think that one is?” I ask, pointing to a human-shaped blob traveling by.

Wes picks a blade of grass and begins twirling it between his fingers. “The one that looks like a guy holding an ax over a teddy bear? Must be Tom Hanks. Fuckin’ asshole.”

I snort and cover my mouth with my hand.

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