“What do you do when I tell you to do something?” he asked as he fucked me harder and harder.
I closed my eyes and began to cum.
“What do you fucking do when I tell you to do something?” He screamed.
Oh shit, I was supposed to answer that.
“Do it, baby. I do it” I responded.
“Cum, you sexy little bitch. Cum.” He screamed.
He reached under me and pinched my right nipple in his finger and held it.
“Cum.”
In and out he forced himself. A sensation rang from my nipple to my groin. His cock felt so good sliding in and out.
Focus Kelli, focus.
Ouch!! Holy fuck.
His left hand slapped my ass hard.
And I exploded. I screamed.
“I’m cumming….I am cumming…Oh God.”
“Yes…yes…yes,”
“Eriiiiikkkkkkk,”
“Oh – my – God,”
I heard a car come over the bump and onto our level of the roof. I could hear it accelerating. He slid out, and backed against the car, facing me. My dress fell to my thighs. I stood, looking over the edge of the roof, my legs shaking. I heard the car park. People started talking. As the voices got farther away, I turned toward Erik.
“I want you to fuck my mouth, I want your cum. You didn’t cum.” I said, as I got onto my knees.
The concrete felt harsh against my knees. I moved, but it didn’t feel better. I moved backward, and pressed my back against the concrete wall where I stood a few minutes before.
“You come look over the edge, and shove your cock in my mouth,” I demanded.
“You have about three minutes before someone’s up here. Hurry the fuck up,” I said, laughing.
He slowly walked toward me and unbuttoned his pants. He reached down and pulled his half-hard cock from his pants. He straddled my face with his thighs on either side and put his hands on his hips.
“Put your fucking hands on the ledge, you better make this quick,” I said in as harsh of a tone as I could without laughing.
“On the ledge God damn it,” I said again.
He chuckled and put his hands on the ledge. I grabbed his butt in my hands. As I did, he flexed his butt muscles. The felt like rocks in my hands. I pulled him toward me. As he bent his knees, I took him into my mouth.
I took him into my throat, and growled, holding his cock deep in my throat. Sliding out, I made slurping sounds, and spit saliva on the tip, and then back into my throat. I continued over and over, getting lost in the feeling of having him inside of my mouth.
I closed my eyes, and the man that I love moaned - on the roof of the parking garage, until he erupted into my throat.
I felt his warmth inside of me, the warmth of his flesh, and the warmth of his cum. I opened my eyes. He pulled from my mouth, and stood in front of me.
“You make me so fucking happy,” he said, looking down at me.
I smiled and looked at his face. He was so gorgeous. I’m sure, to most women, he looked stern. Mean. To me, he looked gorgeous. He may be harsh, and an asshole to most, but to me he was sensitive, and compassionate.
He provided me with all that I needed and wanted. I didn’t deserve him, and I didn’t deserve this, but I was going to take it as long as he would give it to me. Whatever Erik gave me, whatever he thought I needed, I would take. He knows what’s best for me, he knows – even when I do not – what it is that’s best for me.
I don’t deserve him, but he deserves everything I can offer him. And I am going to offer him my life.
Entirely.
I am his.
He owns me…
“Get up, baby girl, we need to go,” he said as he zipped his pants.
I stood up, and as I did, my knees burned. I looked down, and they were bloody.
“Baby girl, your knees. Damn,” he said, pointing at my knees.
“They’re fine, let’s go,” I said acti
ng like it was no big deal. They burned when I stood. I could feel the blood trickling down my shin.
“Let’s go back to your house and clean those up,” he said.
“Okay.”
In the elevator, going up to the house, I looked down at my knees. They looked awful. I laughed, thinking of what people would think. The part of them that was scraped and bleeding was about the size of a baseball, or my entire knee cap. There were lines scratched into the skin from the concrete. I laughed as I looked at them.
“It’s not funny, they look like shit,” Erik said, shaking his head.
“It felt good to feel you cum in my mouth, it was worth it,” I said, and I meant it when I said it.
“You sure are a
good
girl,” he said as he leaned over and kissed me.
The elevator beeped and we got off, turned, and walked to my loft.
ERIK.
“Do you want some help with the bandages?” I asked.
“No, I will fix them up. I have to pee too,” she responded as she went into the bathroom.
I walked through the open loft and looked out the windows at Old Town. This place had a fabulous view, and I felt peaceful looking out over the city. I wondered about my ability to live in a place like this in lieu of living in my home, or any home for that matter. There was a certain solemn feeling standing here looking out at the buildings.
I looked around the house. The floor plan was open, and the entire house was like a huge flat. It was decorated in a contemporary fashion, and looked very modern. I looked into the kitchen. The countertops were free of clutter. A toaster was the only sign of an appliance on the countertop. On top of the refrigerator was a jar.
I looked at the jar. It seemed out of place on top of the refrigerator. I walked closer, and as I did, I could see that it was a Mason jar, an old Mason jar with a brass lid. I walked closer. As I got closer to it, I could see that it was full of paper.
I walked up to the jar and picked it up from the top of the refrigerator. I looked inside, turning the jar. Different colored paper, receipts, tickets.
I squinted and tried to read what was on them. I turned the jar in my hand and looked, amazed at the contents.
White House Down.
Two tickets from the movie theatre. Receipts: Espresso A Go-Go $8.19. Espresso a Go-Go $13.12. Il Vicino $21.19. I shook my head, turning the jar. The Buckle $ 88.30.
She had kept every receipt she could get her hands on from where we had been. U turned the jar, looking in amazement. On the bottom was a dried flower. From the farm house we broke into, I was sure. I had picked a flower on our way off the
porch and handed it to her. I had imagined she would have thrown it away. I wondered how she even got it here, riding on the back of the motorcycle? She must have put it in her pocket. The “Air Bag” sticker off of her side of the car, she had peeled it off of the dash after I bought the car.
Souvenirs.
I felt a rush of feelings I had not felt in years.
When my mother passed, I frantically looked through the house for answers, some form of answer to my life, to my father, to what happened. An answer for why I had to live my adult
life without a mother. An answer to my father’s wealth. In my search, I found a box. In the box was a copy of every newspaper article that had my name in it. Every report card, every crayon drawing, everything that was ever placed on the refrigerator with a magnet.
Everything.
In my mother’s closet, a box of souvenirs. A box containing my life, proof of my existence and my accomplishments. Proof, to me, that she cared, that she loved me.
She loved me.
I placed the jar back on the top of the refrigerator, and smiled. I smiled inside and outside, both.
I walked to the sofa, and as I did, the bathroom door opened, and Kelli walked out, smiling. Wearing gauze bandages the size of dollar bills on each knee, naked as the day she was born, she walked out into the living room. Her body was that of a model. Her looks as naturally beautiful as could be formed. She gracefully walked her walk of purpose into the living room.
And collapsed into my arms.
KELLI.
“Grad school?” he asked.
“Yes, at Columbia, in New York,” I said, crying.
“Baby girl, don’t cry. Is that what you want?”
I shook my head from side to side. I opened my mouth, and cried harder. I couldn’t do this anymore. I couldn’t speak. My knees hurt, I was tired, and I was deeply, madly, for the first time in my life, in love.
My world, my future, my only reason to continue to exist and have some form of meaning, some form of true accomplishment…sat across the sofa from me, looking into my eyes.
“What do you want, baby girl. Tell me. Just tell me what
you
want. For a minute here, clear your mind. Don’t think of what your father wants. Don’t think of what you think
I
want. Don’t think of anything. Think for a minute, a long minute, what do
you
want? Instead of being selfless, be selfish for a moment. If you could make the decision here, if your decision was what happened, no repercussions, no one gets angry, no consequences, what do
you want
?” he asked, speaking quietly and softly.
“Think with your head, baby girl, not your heart.”
I extended my arm toward him, my fist clenched. My arm was shaking, I was crying, and trying to catch my breath. I held my arm out as flat as I could, and opened my index finger and pointed at Erik.
“Me?” he asked.
I nodded.
“You want me?”
I nodded again, sobbing. Over and over I nodded, my finger pointing to Erik.
“Your future, your life, your acceptance to Columbia, your father, his wishes, the dealership,” he paused, and looked into my eyes.
“And you want me?”
I leaned toward him, touched my finger to his chest and pressed hard, sobbing and nodding my head.
He moved my hair behind my ears, and softly put his hand under my chin and lifted it until our eyes met. I looked into his eyes, and tried to stop crying. His left hand clasped my right hand lightly. He lifted my chin a little higher and leaned toward me, his mouth open slightly. I closed my eyes.
His lips met mine and we kissed. Softly, he kissed my lips as his hand slid to my face. He held my face in his hand, and turned my head to make the kiss perfect. I felt my warm tears dripping down my face, onto my lips, and then onto his face. Our lips parted. He sat back on the couch, and looked into my eyes, his hand still on my chin.
His mouth opened slowly. He swallowed. He took a deep breath, exhaled, looked down at the couch, and then looked up. He inhaled again, and he spoke.
“I will go with you to talk to your father if you wish,” he said.
I tried to scream, but my mouth just opened, and nothing came out. I lurched forward, and wrapped my arms around him, holding him tight. I laid my head on his shoulder, and cried. Tears of fear, of uncertainty turned to tears of joy, and I cried.
His arms wrapped around me and he leaned his head into mine. He patted me on the back and stood with me in his arms. I was exhausted. He carried me into the bedroom, and held me in one arm. My legs were wrapped around his waist. I didn’t want to let go.
With his other arm, he peeled the comforter back, and laid me onto the cold sheet. Leaning down to release me, his head beside mine, I feared him leaving me for the night. We have never slept together, and I wanted it so bad. As he released me, I tried to whisper, but again, nothing came.
My head on the pillow, I still cried softly. He walked away from the bed, and I heard his steps behind me. I heard his belt, and his zipper. I exhal
ed and tried to stop crying. He removed his shirt. I felt the bed shift, and the comforter move. He crawled into bed, and started to nestle beside me, his chest on my back.
I exhaled and closed my eyes.
ERIK.
Kelli was exhausted. We had talked for over an hour and a half, her naked on the couch, about the poker run, grad school, and her father. She cried the entire time. I was not prepared for a conversation with such depth and emotion. I was not prepared to make a mental decision about my desire to have her stay here; hell…I didn’t even know she was scheduled to go anywhere.
Everything happens for a reason, and this was no exception.