Page 22 of Getting It Twisted

I shudder and groan as the orgasm pulses through my body.

Silence greets me when I’m done. I roll over to my back, panting, and stare at the ceiling with a scowl. I can’t believe how unsatisfying it is. Every single time. It’s almost too painful: the longing, the sheer emptiness . . . I need another body pressed against mine. I need sweat on my skin, spit in my mouth, cum in my throat.

Ever since I was around fifteen, I’ve had this raw, primal need within me to get fucked within an inch of my life on a regular basis. Beyond alcohol, beyond any drug, that’s what I needthe most, and if Daniel won’t put out, I’m gonna have to find someone else who will.

The setting sun paints the sky a dull, hazy purple. I’ve spent most of the next day sitting on an old tire in the middle of the messy yard, smoking cigarette after cigarette.

Daniel is late. Believe it or not, between the two of us, I’m the most reliable when it comes to being on time. Daniel’s got a shitty grasp on that stuff.

A weird sense of relief hits me when his white Honda Civic finally comes swerving into the makeshift driveway. He emerges from the driver’s seat, looking hastily dressed in a flannel shirt and a jean jacket.

“You took your sweet time,” I call over to him.

“Yeah, sorry. Had to get this into the trunk.” He lifts something huge and bubble-wrapped from the trunk of the car.

A freaking window.

“Oh, come on.” Despite myself, I jump off the tire to help him carry it. “You didn’t have to do this.” All the while, I hide the smile that tugs at the corners of my mouth.

“We had a spare at work. Now let’s hope my eyeballing is as good as my boss tells me it is.”

We carry the window to my “front door” and lift it against the empty frame.

“Looks about right,” he says. “I’ll be back with tools after the key’s sorted.”

“You really don’t have to do all this, you know. I was doing fine on my own.”

Before I have time to react, he reaches out a hand and cups my jaw. His eyes slide over my face, gaze intense and callused fingers hot on my skin.

“You look exhausted,” he says. “And dirty. How do you even take a shower around here?”

When he lets go, my heart is pounding in my chest.

“I don’t. I’ve snuck into the gym in town a couple times.”

He rolls his eyes. “Of course you have. You don’t think that’s more inconvenient than just paying the utility bills?”

I shrug.

He shakes his head with an amused half-smile. “Have you had dinner yet?”

“Finished the last can this morning.” The next second, my stomach growls.

“Let’s go,” he says and cocks his head toward the road. “We’ll get you your car and a meal.”

“Okay, Dad.” We move toward the driveway. I get hold of my cigarette packet and fish out a prerolled joint. After lighting it, I take a drag and hand it to Daniel.

“No, thanks,” he says. “I quit.”

I turn around and walk backward in front of him, exhaling a cloud of smoke in his face. “You wanna know what I think?”

“Not really.”

“I think you’ve been hanging out far too much with George.”

Annoyance flickers across his face. “How so?”

“You’re too . . .” I wave my hand at him, all of him. “. . . uptight and serious. I gotta show you how to have fun again.”

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