Page 92 of Heart Sick

Arching my neck, I spread my arms out wide, mimicking the Lord on the crucifix. I let go and allow this man to possess me because I belong to him—I always have. I don’t know what tomorrow holds, but I can face anything as long as I have Dutch by my side.

He grips my hips and drives into me so hard my body propels up the altar, leaving my back a hot mess. But I don’t care. This is what love entails—it’s messy, and it’s about surrendering to the one you choose.

And I choose Dutch.

Whatever is ahead, I need him to know that I want him, regardless of the sins we committed.

The familiar burn swells in my belly and I close my eyes, the intensity of my orgasm robbing me of air. He keeps working me over until I cry out, tears of pleasure rolling down my cheeks. I get lost in his smell, his labored breaths, and this feeling of being united with the one you love.

And I want him to know it.

“I lo—”

He doesn’t let me finish, however.

He slams his mouth over mine, swallowing my unspoken words before I feel him pull out and spill his seed over my sex. I want to bask in him forever as he slumps forward, blanketing me with his body. We stay interlocked, in no hurry to disconnect because it’s always quieter when we’re together this way.

“It’s almost finished,” he says, and I know he’s talking about his song. “But it’ll forever be changing. And that’s because I’ll always wonder if I did the right thing.”

He kisses my neck before pulling away to get dressed.

He offers me my clothes, but there is something wrong. I suddenly feel so exposed.

I jump down from the altar and quickly dress. “What’s wrong?”

Dutch runs a hand through his snarled hair, his cheeks billowing with his pent-up breath. “Please forgive me, Luna.”

I don’t know what he’s apologizing for. “You’re scaring me. Look at me.”

Instead, he drops to his knees and peers up at me with desolate eyes. “I just wanted to help you. But I think I’ve made a mistake.”

“W-what are you talking about?”

He never gets a chance to answer me, however, because when I hear someone’s heels stabbing at the floor, a flood of memories hits me and leaves me gasping for air.

I’ve heard this before…I remember.

Suddenly, I hear the click…click…click of heels echoing down the corridor. The sound sends chills down my spine.

I don’t know what to do. I fruitlessly tug at the straps, but they won’t budge. “Tell me what to do!”

“We’ve got to go. Now! She can’t find us down here.”

His terrified tone reveals whoever she is, is the person responsible for doing this to Bowie.

“Should I stay and fight?”

There’s no movement. He simply stares straight through me.

“Or will that make things worse for you? Do I hide and watch, and when the time is right, strike?”

That sounds like the coward’s way out, but I have no weapons and no way to get us out of here safely.

“We’ve got to go!” Old Timer repeats, but he can wait.

“You want me to go?” I ask Bowie, clutching his cheeks, and when he blinks once, a sob gets caught in my throat.

Even stuck in a medicated nightmare, he’s trying to save me. And this is the only way I can save him.

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