Page 84 of Escaping Our Reality

A tear falls from the corner of her eye. I plunge my tongue into her mouth. She gives back, clawing at my shoulders with her fingernails. I don’t give her time to prepare. I don’t warn her. I don’t give her time to dwell on it. I immediately plunge two of my fingers into her darkest depth, twisting and pushing when I feel resistance. She tenses and cries out. I swallow her cries with my mouth.

Pulling my fingers out, I perform the same motion over and over. Sweeping into her with a twisting movement, trying to stretch her to the far sides, to the breaking point. Pressing deep into her, I wanna make the painful part as quick as possible. I’m ready for the pleasure. I’m ready to explore the hidden parts of her. Find the spots that make her go wild and buck against me. The spots that make her beg for more.

After a very long time, her body relaxes, and her frozen kisses melt. I’m so damn relieved that her kisses aren’t angry. She’s tasting and biting like a lover showering me with thanks.

Slowly, I pull my fingers from her body and lift them between us. Under the soft glow from one of the battery-operated lanterns, we look in fascination at what is before us. My fingers are stained pink with her blood. Some fine strings of brightred circle my nails and my knuckles. But more importantly, the white cream of her desire coats me from fingertip to palm.

“Did it hurt? Do you hurt? It might take a while before you can tell me what feels good inside of you. I want to find the spots that make you scream my name.”

She nods, biting her lip. “It hurt. Not a normal kind of hurt, but a burning sensation. A tearing. I’m sorry I bled on you.”

I kiss her neck. “I’m not sorry.”

“Let’s not wait to start finding what makes me feel good.” She pushes my hand down her trembling body, sliding my fingertips against her engorged clit. “Make me scream your name.”

And scream my name she does. It takes a while. We go slow. Very slow so as not to hurt her more than she already is. There are some areas that are too tender for me touch right now. There are other areas that, after some time and healing, we know will have her jumping from the cliff. But there are two spots, for now, that get the job done.

And trust me, my name has never sounded so damn good.

Unable to leave me in what she imagines is an extremely painful state, she jacks me off again, quickly switching to a blow job the second I tell her I’m about to come all over the place. It’s the most euphoric form of déjà vu I’ve ever experienced.

Eventually, we clean ourselves with washcloths and fresh water from the gallon jugs. She digs through one of her bathroom bags, grabbing what she calls a panty liner, and puts it and a simple pair of black cotton panties on her sore and thoroughly loved bottom half. I gather my discarded clothes from beside the pond and place them in my dirty clothes bag along with the bloody blanket. I’ll toss them in the washer when we go to the garage to shower tomorrow.

After snuffing the fire in the firepit, we crawl our exhausted bodies back into the tent. She snuggles into the lavender-scented sheets as I grab the book we’ve been reading this week. Everynight before bed, I’ve read aloud from Hemingway’sA Farewell to Arms. After just one chapter, I toss the book to the side and turn off the lantern.

Lulu’s body wraps around mine, encasing me in her in heat. In her warmth. In her love.

She traces the ridges of my six-pack and then slowly counts my ribs. “Tell me something.” She leans over and kisses my chest. “Something no one else knows.”

I think. “All of my best days are with you.” Simple, but true.

“Ask me,” she demands.

I kiss the top of her head. “Tell me something. Something no one else knows.”

“I think my sister is dead.”

I jerk, lifting my head from my pillow to look at her profile in the dark. “What? Why would you think that? There’s still hope.”

“One night on the cruise, I woke up out of a dead sleep. I couldn’t breathe. My heart was beating so fast in my chest, I thought I was dying. It has never felt that way before. It’s like I was drowning in agony, suffocating in anxiety. Holt was in the same room as me. It scared him to death. My aunt and uncle had to call the ship’s physician to the room because I couldn’t even move. Fortunately, by the time he got to the room, my symptoms had eased up. Panic attack. He said I had a panic attack.”

She runs her fingertips back and forth across my collarbone. “Come to find out, it was the same night Carrie went missing. I don’t feel her, Ry. In my heart, there’s already a hole. A missing piece. I know she’s gone. I can just feel it.”

Her hot and silent tears fall onto my chest and race down my side, puddling between our connected bodies.

“So, what does this mean?”

“It means I’m looking for a murderer.”

Chapter 35

ELLA

I have a new purpose in life. A new reason for living.

Bringing Ry to orgasm. Making him scream. That’s my new purpose. And I could do it all day, every day from here to eternity.

Ry’s loud when he orgasms. Really loud. He says he has to be loud to keep an even pace with me.

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