Page 71 of Mayfly

Jude gropes my ass and pulls me deeper.

His biceps bulge around me. He tries to keep eye contact, but every time I barge past his tonsils, they squeeze shut. He gags, again, and again, and again until the chair is forgotten and he’s on his knees for me. Pants around his ankles. Shirt caught up—high and sticky on his back.

I cup his neck and feel it swell, then contract. Swell, then contract.

His eyes roll and his hips tilt so far I can see the bruises covering his back and ass.

“Fuck, you look sexy,” I tell him, and he arches his back further. “You look so pretty covered in my bruises, don't you?”

His moan vibrates around me.

“Don’t you?” I demand.

He pulls back— "They're my bruises, now" —and stands. "Get to the window."

I look to where I left my coat, then back to him.

"Get to the fucking window, Curren." He wipes the spit from his mouth and chin with his soaking shirt sleeve, replacing saliva with more smeared blood. And I just stand mesmerized, watching as he rises to his feet, towers over me, and kicks off his shoes and pants.

Then he’s sucking the life out of me; tongue down my throat, fucking my mouth and giving me no way to fight back.

He pulls away and I stumble.

He tears his shirt from his body, and tosses on top of Marius.

“Fuck, I love you,” he says, then turns and walks away.

His back is purple the whole way down to his calves, with strips of navy-black in the shape of his belt.

“Get them tattooed,” I say, following after him.

“No.” It’s final; no room for discussion. “You’re the only permanent thing I want in my life,” he says, leaning forward with his hands on the window’s bare concrete sill and looking out over the Thames.

I kiss his neck as a gust of wind blows through the window.

Jude turns, gently takes my head,and kisses me.

“Should we jump?”

“I’m scared, too, Curren.”

“But what if this is as good as it’s ever gonna be?”

“There’s no way that can be true… It’s only been one day.”

“Mayfly’s live their entire life in one day.”

“Shhh.” His breath puffs like a drug against my lips. “I’m gonna need you to shut the fuck up and bend over the window.”

I've barely moved and he's already gripping my hip and pushing back inside me.

I fall forward onto my blazer—my forearm supporting me on the windowsill as the other hand presses flat against the wall beside it.

"We grew up just over there."

"Stay focused—ah," I moan. "Don't look at it."

“It’s hard not to.”

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