Page 60 of Rectify

She reassured me with another kiss, deepening the connection, licking away the doubt.

I line myself up and push into her agonisingly slow. My breath catches in my throat as my bare skin, drags along her slick, warm heat.

We rock against each other, with long and languorous strokes, and I let myself feel every part of her. It's all slow and deep, a torturous rhythm that matches exactly how I feel inside.

Everything about this is purgatory. Too scared to strive for heaven, too scared to end up in hell.

I make memories with every thrust, stealing parts of her I can keep with me always. Every kiss, every taste, and every touch will forever be my reference to perfection.

The emotion inside of me morphs into possession, as the sound of my name gets louder on her lips. Every pant is a repetitious chant, spurring me on to build her body up and watch it crumble, the way only I know how.

“Jay. Fuck. Please.”

One finger to her clit, sends the rivers rolling, and she’s drowning in the sensation. Her cunt clenches and pulses around me, pushing me to the edge of my own release. Without even thinking twice, I pull out and pump my cock till I unload all over her stomach.

“Fuck,” I shout, catching her gaze as the last drop reaches her skin. Her eyes are big brown pools of lust that make me want to do it all over again.

Her hand drifts down to touch my mess, but I stop her, using my own fingers instead. I draw the letters into her skin that will forever accompany the image of her stained with my come. My own little secret.

M-I-N-E

I swirl the word away and offer my finger. “What’s next, Pretty Girl?

15

Sasha

Ihate that it’s only the second time he’s been in my bed, and I already hate it when he leaves. I hate wanting to know what it’s like to wake up next to him. I hate that I’m playing a lifetime of catch up, one night a week, and he’s going to leave at anytime. I hate that I want to see him more than that. And most of all I hate that I feel this way at all.

I go into work early because I’m sick of tossing and turning, replaying words, and being taunted by the ghost of his touch.

I pull open the office door, only to be greeted by Holly’s loud shriek.

“What?” I shout back. “Why are you screaming?”

“What the fuck, Sash? It’s six in the morning, the sun is barely up, and you’re not supposed to be here. Why else would I be fucking screaming? You scared the shit out of me.”

“Ughh,” I groan. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t even thinking.”

“We’ve got about another hour before any parents and kids show up. Get coffee and tell me why the fuck you’re even here.”

Now that we’re both calmer and we have our coffee in hand, I launch into what I know is going to be a lengthy whine that Holly’s going to tell me off for.

“So, Jay came over last night.”

“Yeah I know. We came up with the lie you told Jagger together.” She blows at her coffee to cool it down before attempting to take a sip. “Did he not show up?”

“No, it’s nothing bad,” I assure her. “It just feels too good.”

“So, stop seeing him,” she says offhandedly.

“No.” Sometimes I don’t even know how Holly and I function. She’s so black and white, so practical, it’s sometimes painful. “I don’t want to do that.”

“Maybe it’s not about Jay,” she suggests.

“What do you mean?”

“Okay.” She puts her coffee down and steeples her fingers. “When was the last time you dated a guy?”

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