Find Me in the Dark (6 page)

He removes one hand from my hip and gathers my hair. Then, he pulls back gently.

I look at the ceiling, at the pure darkness in front of me.

“Look at me,” he demands. “I want to watch you while I take you.”

My eyes roll back.

He’s such an imposing figure. Though he isn’t bulky, his strength is unmistakable. Lithe and fast, he holds me with the determination of a man who always gets what he wants. Even his fingers are strong as they dig into me. It’s the only warning I get before he slams into me.

I thought I was ready for it. That it would be nothing more than the previous feeling of him filling me intensifying.

I couldn’t have been more wrong.

I want to always be filled with him. I push back against him, making it hard for him to move. He groans and grabs my hips, keeping them in place as he thrusts. My eyes flutter shut and his hand grips my hair harder. I stare back into that face I cannot see.

“Don’t stop looking at me.”

I’m too afraid to look away. It’s ridiculous to be so afraid when I can’t see anything of him, but I can feel it, his intensity, moving through the mask, spilling over me. I should be self-conscious of how I’m frowning as I moan, of how far apart my lips are, of my crooked front teeth, but it feels so good I can’t bring myself to care. Even if I do care it doesn’t matter. The darkness is there, beckoning to me to dissolve into it until I almost feel like I no longer exist.

He leans over. “It’s alright.” His voice is strained, a growl. “Cum for me,
Solnyshko moyo
.”

Those words seem significant, though they could be anything, even another girl’s name. Still, I’d want to feel them on my skin, saturating my body along with the heat and scent of him. I am merely an instrument of passion.
His
.

The world round me is breaking. I forget the discomfort in my legs, the pressure in my knees. I don’t mind his grip. Everything fades except the bliss building in my center. It’s almost painful it’s so perfect, and so perfect that it feels like it should be forbidden to experience it.

I cry out. I don’t care if anyone is watching. If anyone hears me. All I want is to be with him completely, for him to hear this sound and know that he caused it.

My legs buckle. I push them together tighter, squeezing his cock with my cunt and my thighs as he thrusts faster, faster, until I do as he asks.

My orgasm is so intense that it hurts. My hands tense into fists and then go lax. He thrusts forward one last time, burying himself in me.

Then we’re both quiet. His grip on my hips loosens, but he doesn’t move away. I’m sore between my legs, but for some reason I love the hardness of his body, the feeling of him behind me and on top of me—this man I still don’t know the name of.

My elbows hit the floor and I rest my cheek on my knuckles. I begin to become aware of my own breath. The sweat cools on my skin. The place between my shoulder blades, where his head rests, feels hot. His cock is still hard inside me. He flexes it, and my cunt instinctively tightens, trying to hold it still.

He wraps an arm around my stomach and falls to the side, dragging me down with him. My limp arms are sprawled over the floor as he hugs me to his chest. I hear his heartbeat slow.

Suddenly the reality of what just happened hits me.

I just fucked a man I didn’t know.

A man who’s been sending me anonymous letters for over a year.

And he’s holding me like he intends to never let go.

“What’s wrong?” His voice is husky, dazed. I shiver. “Nothing.”

“You shouldn’t lie.” His grip on my body tightens momentarily. “Do you not want to be close to me?”

I don’t know what I want
.

I can’t bring myself to say it, so I try to breathe evenly.

“Do you want me to let go of you?”

Yes. Maybe
. “I don’t know.”

He rolls me onto my back and plants one arm over my shoulder while the other keeps my body still. His face is about five inches from mine, but I can’t see anything beneath that mask.

I could have just fucked anybody.

The idea that had gotten me so wet just a few moments before starts to freak me out.

His hands brush aside the strands of hair that are stuck to my cheeks. “What’s wrong?” he asks again.

Heat flares across my face. Thank God he’s wearing a mask because there’s no way I could look someone in the eyes after, after, after… After whatever the hell just happened. I hadn’t even been capable of speech for the most of it. I remember him asking me questions, me crying out. Me demanding him to fuck me. Me using the word fuck like that, to a guy while his cock was right in front of me.

I’m almost glad my grandma isn’t alive, with her lumpy hugs and lumpier cookies. I remember the concerned look in her eyes when she wagged her wooden spoon at me, warning me about holding hands with boys. Yes,
holding hands
. She was worried I’d hold hands with someone before I turned twenty-five. I’m only twenty-one and here I was…just ugh! She’d be so disgusted with my behavior.

And then I remember that she’s in heaven, watching me, and I want to die on the spot.

Oh God. I’m going to hell.

“Laura,” he whispers.

“Um…” Am I supposed to be saying something?

“You’re embarrassed?”

His accent makes me shiver. Did he mean to ask if I was embarrassed after he fucked my brains out? Of course I was! “I just…I think I should go.”

He stops breathing. His hands flex, and he pulls my hair. “Sorry,” he whispers when he sees me wince.

“Um…” I realize I don’t know his name. I just fucked a guy, and I don’t even know his name. Why hasn’t he told me his name? What am I supposed to call him? Masked man? “This isn’t some kind of joke, is it?” I squeak.

“What?” His voice sounds genuinely concerned. I don’t know if that’s a bad thing or a good thing.

“I mean, the football team isn’t going to jump out from behind the bleachers and begin high-fiving you, are they?”

“Why the fuck would they do that?”

The fierceness of his words make me giggle nervously. “Initiation.”

“Initiation?”

“You know.” I bite my lip. “It’s what guys do to feel like studs.”

It takes him a moment to answer. “They better not try to feel like studs if they know what’s good for them,” he growls. “I’m not a generous man, Laura.”

Something about the way he says ‘man’ thrills me. About how he shared he isn’t generous. And suddenly, I want him to drive into me again, to show me just how ungenerous he is and remind me in every way possible that he’s a man.

What’s wrong with me?

I become increasingly aware of my soreness. My cunt clenches and I shudder.

A calloused thumb moves over my bottom lip. “Did I scare you?”

I scared myself. I’d never done anything like this before. Never. I didn’t even know him.

“I’m sorry,” he says, pushing himself off me. He drops his arm over his forehead.

I watch his chest rise and fall in the shadows of the auditorium. My throat feels tight. “Why are you sorry?” I ask.

“For pushing you. I messed this up.” He moves a bit, probably so he can see me better, but it’s hard to tell when he’s wearing a mask. “I just wanted to talk to you.”

“Talk to me?” I repeat. I feel my cheeks flushing again. Actually, I feel every part of me flushing. My hands shake as I grab my pants and pull them up. They stick to my inner thighs. I can’t believe how wet I still am.

“Yes.” He rolls onto his side and traces my elbow. He probably feels my muscles tense with fear and apprehension as I continue to pull my pants all the way up. “I messed up, didn’t I? I just got close to you and I couldn’t…”

“It wasn’t just you,” I admit, feeling myself growing hotter. I’d flung myself on him. It was disgusting, thinking of myself acting like that with someone…especially someone I didn’t even know…

“I did mess things up, and now you’re ashamed.”

I pause for a second. “Well it was kind of…”

“Kind of what?” he asks when I don’t finish.

Kind of great, which somehow makes all this worse
. “I think I need to go.”

“Don’t.”

“No, I really—”

“Please don’t, Laura.”

He says my name like it is something special. Like it means everything to him. I don’t understand. Why is he even here? Who is he to me? And why did I give into him so quickly?

I study him.
He’s still wearing a freaking mask, Laura. If he isn’t going to take that off, he isn’t going to answer those questions
. “I’m sorry, but I have to.”

“Laura…”

“Please, I just…This is really weird.” I jump up and grab my cello.

He says something harshly in his own language. It sounds like a curse.

I tremble.

“I’m sorry.” He sighs behind me. “You’re really going, aren’t you?”

I adjust my grip on my cello.

“Will you meet me again?”

I drop my bow on the floor and curse. I shut my eyes as I retrieve it, and my body answers for me. “Uh…yes.”

He inhales as if to speak. I place my instrument in its case and slam it shut, buckling it loudly. “I, um. I—”

He brushes his hands on his slacks as he stands. “Let me walk you home at least.”

Wait, was he being serious? Through campus? Wearing a mask? If anyone saw us they’d call the cops! “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“It’s dark out. You don’t know who’s out there.”

“You mean guys like…” I don’t finish, but he knows what I was about to say. He has to. My shoulders fall.
That wasn’t fair. I’m sorry. I don’t think you’re some random creeper. I mean, you kind of are, but you’re more than that to me. I wouldn’t do this with just anyone. At least I hope I wouldn’t…

My unspoken apology flashes in my mind as I wet my lips. “Uh, that’s not what I meant to say. I mean…”

He cuts me off. “It’s alright. Just be safe.”

“Okay.” I don’t know if he heard me or not. I run to the end of the stage. My cello case bumps my knees as I rush down the stairs. I’m not being careful. Not with the most important object I own, or even with my own body…

“Laura.” I don’t know if he speaks again or if I’m just imagining it. A part of me expects him to come after me, but he doesn’t. I can’t hear anything on the stage and I don’t look back.

The door of the auditorium swings open and I’m greeted by cold air. I slump against it as it slams shut. I shut my eyes and try to steady my breath. The hand that holds my cello case trembles.

I just slept with him. The one who lays himself bare in his letters.

I press my free hand to my chest. My heart still beats so fast. Just as it had when he touched me.

A part of me wants to run back in there. To demand he reveal everything he hides from me. To push him onto the floor without shame and revel in that twisted, dark pleasure.

The fact that I want such things frightens me. I didn’t know how much he meant to me until now. I didn’t know how much I could lose. Those letters, detailing his obsession, had merely ignited mine. I’d given myself to him before he’d even touched me. I’d relinquished everything to him.

And I didn’t even know his name.

I walk home briskly, trying to squelch these strange desires brewing inside me. On the second block from campus I noticed it—an eerie chill. I hugged myself, ignoring the steam rising from the grates below, how the streets shifted from overcrowded to almost empty.

He’s following me. I know he is.

A part of me wants to dart into one of the alleys and wait. He’d come, I know he would. Maybe he’d press himself against me, and I’d once again feel his hard, sculpted over mine. He’d push me up against the bricks with only the streetlight from the road to give us light. And I’d fade into that dimness and that dusky scent, and allow him to overtake me.

He’d probably be angry too, but not nearly as angry as I would be. I’d told him it would be fine, that there was no need for him to walk me home.

Maybe this is normal for him
.

I walk faster. That thought should horrify me. Instead, I feel oddly safe.

I walk into our room as quietly as possible. Cassie is opening a bag of gluten free blue corn tortilla chips as Anna smashes three gigantic avocados with as much grace as one can when they’re using a child’s dancing happy bear cereal bowl.

Dolly’s sitting on a stool at the counter. She pops a chip in her mouth and grins. “We were going to start without you.”

“No we weren’t,” Anna says.

“Well, alright,
we
weren’t but
I
totally would have started without you.” Dolly’s smile deepens as if this information should make me happy.

“Luckily some of us have manners,” Anna mutters. The guacamole is done, so she goes over to the sink to rinse her hands.

Cassie laughs. “Jesus Anna. Are you on your period?”

Dolly snickers.

Anna is pretty bad on her period, but she knows it and tries to make light of it. Of course, making fun of yourself for being a bitch when you’re PMS-ing is kind of hard to do, so we don’t push her too hard.

Anna sighs. “When we watch
The Notepad
, I’m going to hold you and Cassie while I cry since apparently she’s the only one who appreciates me.”

“We love you Anna!” Dolly calls out dramatically, reaching for Anna’s wrist.

“So damn much!” Cassie drops the bag of chips on the counter and throws her arms around Anna.

“You guys are so transparent,” Anna says, but she’s smiling as Cassie and Dolly pull on her as if she’s the rope in a game of tug-of-war.

I set down my cello and kick off my sneakers. My pussy is still sore. I hope I don’t make a face when I sit.

No. I’m over thinking it. No one ever makes a face when they sit. That’s just ridiculous.

I walk over to the stools and sit at the counter.

Dolly immediately drops Anna’s arm. “What is wrong?”

“What?” I ask, beginning to fold my legs. Unfortunately, that just exasperates my soreness so I stop.

“You made a face,” Dolly says.

Cassie nods and Anna looks concerned.

“Oh, it’s nothing. Just…a lot of stuff happened at practice.”