Page 115 of The Grief We Hold

The orgasm makes my head spin. Everything feels too much, too bright.

He drags his fingers out of me and pushes them into my mouth. “Suck off what you worked so hard for.”

I do as he says, tasting myself, feeling vulnerable yet immortal. Breaking the invisible line of propriety has never felt so all-consuming.

When I’m done, Wraith slips his cut off his shoulders and puts it on the ground in front of me.

Smoke grabs Nola by the throat, tugging her to standing as he continues to thrust into her. She wraps her hands around his wrist but doesn’t try to tug him away. They haven’t seen us, too wrapped up in how good it feels.

Then Wraith pushes me down, his strong hands on my shoulders. First to kneeling, then onto all fours on his cut.

Wraith drops down behind me. I hear the rustling of a condom wrapper, then feel the cool air on my butt as he lifts my sundress and yanks my panties down to my knees.

“You gonna let me fuck you like this?” he asks, and I nod. “Good fucking girl. Want you more right now than I’ve ever wanted anything else in this life.”

His entry is not smooth. It’s rough, demanding, and urgent. He plants his hands over mine, a reminder that he’s so much bigger than me. We must look like animals, doing this in the dirt, but I want it.

I want him.

I want all of this.

The epiphany is liberating.

Sex doesn’t need to be sanitized or boring or limited to a bed. It can be all these things and feelings and emotions, and they’re all okay.

“Wraith,” I gasp.

I lower my forehead to my forearms.

“Shit, baby,” he says.

Everything shakes. I’m sweating. Running hot and cold. My skin is on fire.

“Please, give it to me,” I say, uncertain what I even mean. Beyond that I want this man. Who he is.

The relentless pounding of his cock takes me out of my body. My mind is silent. I can’t feel the earth beneath my knees and palms. Everything centers on the place where the two of us are joined.

“Give me another, Blue. Want to feel that cunt of yours choke my cock when I come.” He scoops some of my cream onto his thumb and dips it into my ass. I gasp at the fullness of it as he pushes in farther. He presses down, and everything shifts.

I’m lost to this man. I want him to use my body however he wants, because in this moment, I feel utterly owned and consumed, and yet, free.

My body breaks apart. This time when I cry out, it’s not quiet. Tears spill onto the earth, and when I come, I feel so shaken, I don’t know how to get back down.

“Yes. Fucking, yes,” Wraith cries, the words devolving into loud grunts as he thrusts through his own orgasm.

He sucks in air, then groans it back out. Over and over as his thrusts slow.

I place my hands on my forehead and cry so hard, my bones shake.

“Hey,” Wraith says, and I realize some time is missing. He’s no longer in me and has shifted so he’s lowering back against the tree with me in his arms. “Come back to me, Blue. You did so good. You were everything I wanted and needed, and you came so hard.”

As he continues to praise me, he strokes my skin and covers my half-dressed state with his cut.

My sobs subside, leaving me utterly hollowed out.

And yet a warmth spreads within me.

One of fulfilment, replacing the empty.

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