You wound me deeply, finding some kind of perverse pleasure in it, and I am thinking of all the things I want to say… do, while you stand there in the doorway, lazily smoking your cigarette.
There’s a self-satisfied smirk twisting your lips and I close my eyes, picturing myself slapping it from your face, hearing the resounding crack, letting it echo through the halls of my mind and feeling the fulfillment of my hand connecting with your cheek.
I can almost taste the delicious feel of my palm to your skin as the smile dies from your eyes, and I want that; want it so much I can feel it coursing through my veins, but I will not give you the satisfaction. I won’t let you move me to violence; I’d sooner resort to that than tears. I am determined to never surrender… never ever fucking surrender that!
You look to me with a smug coolness that makes me get up and pace the floor, and that is a path that is too well worn and deeply grooved, so I throw on clothes and grab my keys, meaning to do whatever I must to fill this emptiness.
I fumble through my drawers, tossing this and that aside, digging for the cross that I never leave without. Finding my precious memento, I press it to my lips and murmur a quick prayer, knowing that I will need my very dear friend that it once belonged to, with me tonight.
With my eyes still closed, I turn to leave and crash directly into you. I was unaware that you have been watching me, waiting for me to reach my breaking point. Pulling me to you hard, you tilt your head down and kiss me. Everything in me wants to give in to you, but I wrestle myself free and run through the door, bolting out into the night; not knowing where I am headed and not caring. The only thing I know with certainty is that I must, must escape you.
I jam the key into the ignition and offer up a fervent prayer as I push the accelerator to the floor,
“C’mon! Start baby! Start!”
The engine roars to life: wings to my wounded soul. I fondle my treasured cross, car wheels screeching, as I pull out onto a road that may never end.
I drove blindly for nearly an hour, racing the highway and weaving recklessly, before finally stopping at a bar near the edge of town. Knowing that I need to collect, as my new speeding ticket will attest to, I utter an oath, get out, and slam the car door behind me.
I order my first drink, your drink, and inhale the wonderful liquid, feeling it sting my eyes as it burns all the way down my throat. I’ve never had hard liquor before but I think to myself, “All demons exorcised by degrees.” I roll my eyes and toss my head back, swallowing hard to inhale the shot of Wild Turkey in one mouthful. By my fifth drink I stop counting and place an order for another, when a voice cuts me off.
“I’ve got that.”
I turn to see a cowboy standing close behind me. Removing a bill from his wallet, he speaks without looking at me,
“Hello miss. Are you alone?”
The question stuns me momentarily and I consider my options.
“Y, yes” I stammer and look away, really feeling just how truly alone I am right now. I wince in my seat and offer him a “thanks,” hoping that he will go away and leave me to the insanity of this night.
I really want, need, to fall into a tolerable, drunken anger. Needing to at least have the solace of that, and then that voice,
“So what’s your name, cutie?”
By now, I am fiercely trying to hold it together, and failing. Without forethought, I spit out my acid reply,
“My name is fucking force of nature that you don’t want to fuck with tonight cowboy!”
I light a cigarette, praying that he will leave me to my rage.
“Whoa, little miss! Who pissed you off?”
But I am in fine form this night, and I promptly replied,
“Mad at the world, cowboy.”
Nonetheless, his eyes are smiling, quite obviously amused at my discomfiture.
Well that’s good. I’m not from this world.” He said, beginning an old pickup line.
I shoot him a warning glare and lift my purse onto my shoulder. One more person wanting anything from me right now, might be the thing that shoves me over the edge. I gather my keys and cross, and turn to leave.
Feeling the blood drop from my face to my feet, I realize that this may not have been the night to slam hard liquor, so I steady myself at the barstool and straighten my back.
Trying to appear as dignified as I can, I walk quickly past the cowboy, in a less than straight line, and head down the hall to the door. I am almost free, almost in the clear, when I feel a large hand clamp around my upper arm, spinning me around.
I look directly into his eyes, where he can see the venom in mine.
“I can tell that you’ve got a determination, little miss, but I don’t want you to be driving around in your condition.”
Automatically, I rifle through my mind for the best assurance that I’ll be fine and open my mouth to voice it.
“Let me just take you back to my place for the night.” He says kindly.
I whirl on him, glaring daggers into his eyes and then bolt for the door, but he has a firm grip on me and I am stopped in my tracks.
“I promise. No funny stuff. Scouts honor.”
My skin is prickling as I am bristling at the large hand keeping me from…
“From what,” I questioned myself silently.
Just for a moment, I relent. Seeing me relax just a little, cowboy tries again.
“Look, I’m not gonna take advantage of you. I can see you are fit to be tied, but don’t get any ideas or I’ll have to hog tie you.”
Finally, I chance a look at the speeding ticket in my partially open purse and heave a troubled sigh. He can see that I am defeated.
“Wait right here. Let me pay the bar tab and I’ll meet you right back here,” he orders as he begins to walk off. Then he turns back, in one step.
“Give me your keys.” He demands.
He holds out his hand, palm up, and I realize that I am less afraid of him, than I am of what I’ll face driving drunk and furious, so I dig into my bag and hand the keys over.
Cowboy walks away without a backwards glance and I bang my head against the wall, wondering how I got myself into this fine fix. Then I pull my cross out and palm it, muttering a prayer under my breath.
“Stay with me my angel. I need you.”
Cowboy returns and wordlessly takes my hand. I freeze and then wrench my fingers from his, but he just smiles softly and opens the door for me. I slip into the seat of his truck with some unease, but he is careful to keep his words soft and his movements slow.
I smile to myself, briefly thinking, “First battle won.”
But remembering that he still has my keys. Then, finally, I take a deep breath and exhale, feeling like it may be the first time I’ve breathed all night.
“What’s that ya got there?” His eyes are on my hands.
“Nothing. None of your damned,” I ground out, but my voice trails off as I realize that cowboy has been nothing but kind to me and likely doesn’t deserve my rage, so I struggle for a slightly kinder reply.
“Never mind. Just keep your eyes on the road cowboy.”
Just then a smile lit up his face.
“Okay, little miss. We’re home.”
He unlocked the door and held it open for me. I stepped inside his log cabin with trepidation.
“Don’t be afraid. Just make yourself to home,” he said as he hit the lights on.
I stood in the middle of the room, rooted to one spot, with thoughts racing; wondering how many bedrooms he has and how many beds, but there was something comforting about the place.
He gestured toward the couch, with a bowing motion, his arm outstretched, and it brought a smile to me.
“Nice to see your pretty smile, little miss.”
Assailed with the rage and pain that brought me here, the smile died on my lips.
“I’m going to get wood for the fire. Can I get you anything?”
But I don’t really hear him; I am lost in the reliving of my last experience of you. I sat silently, on the edge of the couch, as he went back outside and reentered again, arms filled to capacity with logs.
He lit the fire and I watched him make his way into the kitchen that seemed almost too small for his tall, stocky frame. I hadn’t taken notice earlier, of how he towered over me and I am somewhat surprised that I wasn’t astute enough to be very afraid of him.
After disappearing into the kitchen for some time, cowboy reappeared with two drinks. Approaching cautiously, he handed one to me and took a chair facing me.
He seems so relaxed, so comfortable, and the air is crackling with the contrast to my tension. I sat, still silent, staring into the fire; images of you in the arms of someone else assaulting me, seeing the words I’d read in black and white: “Meet me at the Motel-6 near you.” I squeeze my eyes shut and shake my head, trying to force you from mind.
When I finally look up, I realize that cowboy is gone. Hearing kitchen noises, I got up and went to investigate, then found him in the kitchen with milk and Kailua on the counter.
“You like mudslides?” He asked cheerfully.
I nodded my approval and returned to the couch, hugging my knees against several kinds of coldness, and unable to stop shivering.
Cowboy returned with both drinks in hand. Sitting them down gingerly on the hearth, he walks slowly towards me. Before I realize it, I’m on my feet. He has my shoulders in hand, gently steering me across the room, to sit in front of the fire. He then joined me at my side, close enough to be touching, but making no move to put his arm around me. I return my attention to the flames, making a concerted effort to burn you from my soul, knowing I would happily leap into the fire if I thought it would drive the pictures from my eyes.
Failing that, I began drinking heavily enough to stay somewhat sedated.
“Want to talk about it,” he asked without looking at me.
Dragging my thoughts back to the cowboy at my side, I stumbled,
“Do you want to talk about it?” He queried again.
I stare harder into the flames and form the only response that I have.
“I realize that you are going through your own personal hell, little miss. Might help to talk about it.”
His eyes were filled with compassion, but I have no voice for this yet. I draw a deep breath and hug my knees tighter, while we sit together in silence for hours. Cowboy does not move, except to refill our drinks on a steady basis, and the last time he returned, he sat next to me, extending his arm around me.
“May I,” He asked quietly.
I wasn’t sure that I had it in me to care anymore. Declining to answer, I looked down into my glass, stirring the ice cubes with my little finger, a small but necessary distraction.
“What’s your name?” he asks.
I grimace slightly and reply, “I told you.”
“Oh C’mon. Give a guy a break, okay? ‘Fucking force of nature that you don’t want to fuck with tonight cowboy’ is too long to fit on your driver’s license!”
I can feel the amusement in his voice and it makes me giggle at the picture of us; me there in the bar, so small at all of 5″1″, verbally blasting this very tall, muscular cowboy, and it makes me laugh out loud for a second. Then he is smiling into my eyes.
“Well let me in on it!” he grins.
“I was just picturing our ‘scene’ at the bar,” I smiled.
“Yeah! Scared the hell outta me,” he responded, nearly falling backwards laughing.
Finally, I am laughing and I let him pull me a little bit closer, but then turned my eyes back to the hearth.
“Please don’t do that.” It is almost a whisper.
“Do what?” I queried softly.
“Please don’t retreat back into yourself. I just got you to laugh for the first time. I like your laugh, little miss.”
Genuinely smiling now, and still playing with my ice cubes, I reply, “I like yours too cowboy.”
Cowboy reaches to tilt my chin up and places a soft kiss to my lips, and I am instantly aware of the heat given off by the fire, and the heat that he is giving off.
Suddenly filled with nerves, and some guilt, I pick up my glass and jump to my feet, but the floor rises up to meet me and I am sprawled on the rug. Laughing heartily, he helps me to a sitting position and picks up our glasses.
“Better let me get those, little miss.”
Then he takes our glasses into the kitchen.
Feeling terribly foolish, the color rushes to my cheeks, I make a serious effort to stand. Watching from a distance, cowboys quickly returns to gently, but firmly, push me back down to the carpet.
“I told you. Don’t get any ideas or I’ll have to hog tie you,” He teases me.
Still blushing furiously, I tease him back. “You wouldn’t!”
As he returns from the kitchen, he asks, “Wouldn’t I?”
Without thought, I respond “You wouldn’t dare!”
“Try me.” He states, cutting me off.
His tone is now dead serious and his eyes are burning into mine. I hesitate for a long moment before breaking the tension.
“You’re such a kidder cowboy!”
“And you are no match for me, little miss,” is his staunch reply.
There is no anger in his voice, but an authoritative determination that floors me. I am opening and closing my mouth, trying to form words that will convince him that he doesn’t scare me; something that will make him believe that I am in complete control, regardless of what condition I’m in.
Then I square my shoulders and level my gaze at him.
“I can take you anytime, anywhere, cowboy,” I said, gritting my teeth for effect.
I hold his stare with my own, not even daring to blink, and then he stands, hauling me over his shoulder in one swoop of his arms. He walks toward the bedroom as I land my fists to his back, squirming and pushing against him, but fighting a losing battle against his strength and my inebriation.
“I’ll scream,” I threaten to the best of my drunken ability.
“So scream,” he responds with no intimidation.
“Wh, What,” came my confused response.
“You’re in the woods, little miss. No one will hear you.”
With that, he threw me down on the bed while I was still sputtering. I fought for a dignified position on the bed, never taking my eyes off of his.
“You can glare at me all you like, but you better do as I tell you,” he commanded.
My rage returns in full force.
“You arrogant! Hateful! You actually think! What gives you the right to,” but my voice trails off, not knowing how to finish.
“What gives me the right is that you are my charge for the night, and somebody’s got to control you.”
His slightly amused tone grates on my nerves and I lock my jaw. Chin set defiantly, I am prepared for an all-out war, but he peels off his shirt and walks purposefully towards me, as I clench my fists.
“Give up, little miss. You can’t win.”
He is calm and controlled in the face of my frayed nerves and fuming ire, and it grates on me.
With one more step I lunge at him, full body weight contact, but he does not stumble. He picks me up and dumps me, unceremoniously, back onto the bed. Then he holds me down at my shoulders and warns,
His angry eyes search mine for compliance and he finally let go. For a moment I wonder if not moving is the better option, knowing that I can barely stand but when he returns with restraints, I push back onto the bed and prepare for an all-out, no-holds-barred, fight-to-the-death. Seeing blood in my eyes, he smiles derisively,
And he leans into me. Unable to free myself from the grip of my inebriation, I am throwing punches, flailing, slapping at him, and cursing a blue streak.
“Fuck this cowboy! Fuck you!”
“If you must,” he responds with a smirk that I wanted to slap from his face.
Then I suddenly feel my palm connect and I am filled with instant gratification.
“God that was good,” I scream, but his smirk turns into a grin.
“You’re a little spitfire. I didn’t expect to have this much fun tonight, but the fun is over, little miss,” he states matter-of-factly.
That being said, he lunged with precision, catching my foot midstream to his family jewels.
“Nice try,” he says without emotion, and then drags me to the edge of the bed while I struggle, with what little might I have left.
“You won’t get away with this,” I scream but, somewhere inside me, I realize the futility of my argument. Still, I persist.
“Stop now cowboy, while you still can,” I warn loudly.
Then I throw myself into a last ditch effort to escape; twisting, fighting and writhing, until he slips restraints over my wrists and ankles, with a noted certain ease.
Then he binds me to the bed while I’m still fighting, knowing that it is a losing battle, but struggling nevertheless. Then he holds me down firmly, letting me push and pull, trying the restraints with everything I’m worth. Suddenly, he presses a gentle kiss to my lips as the last of my fight is draining.
We stayed like that for some time, his lips to mine, murmuring softly,
“Let it go now, little miss,”
And suddenly I could feel the fire all the way in this room.
Finally I collapse, surrendering to his kisses, and with none of this making sense, he deepens a kiss that makes me panic. With nothing left but my voice, I use it.
No! No! Nooooo!” I shriek.
“Shhhhh.” he whispers, and I’m completely confused.
My voice gets smaller while I’m lost in all of my tormented emotions.
“Nooo,” I groan at him.
“Shhhh,” He continued.
“No cowboy.” I whispered weakly.
Gently, he repeats, “Shhhh.”
I nearly crumble as his lips set me on fire, but I know I won’t go down without a fight, and I struggle for the final time; flailing and lashing out as best I can, being restrained, and he let me fight it out.
“Shhhh. Let it go now,” he whispers, again and again, as he kisses me softly.
Still kissing me tenderly, he begins to strip away my clothing, still whispering as I struggle lethargically.
“Shhhh. Don’t fight me. Don’t fight anymore.” His voice is soothing and somewhat seductive.
“No.” I fight to reply.
“Shhhhh,” he continues.
Then he kisses me deeply, stealing my breath as my blood begins to boil, and without breaking the kiss, he tugs the last piece of fabric from me and cups my face in his palms. I feel his stare lay waste to my determination, as strokes the curve of my waist.
Fire courses through me at his touch, but I fight for some logic through my exhausted, drunken haze; trying to find the surface to break through.
Again he whispers, “Shhh. Don’t anymore. Shhhh.”
He moves slowly then, standing to strip from his jeans, and then stretches out to lie against me. His hardness against my thigh is nearly more than I can stand. He parts my lips for a deeply hungry kiss, and finally, I return his kisses with passion.
Suddenly, I’m overwhelmed with the need to feel his hands on me, all of me, and then I do. His fingers and palms explore me, squeezing my breasts lightly, caressing the flat of my belly, while his lips trail kisses down my neck and shoulder.
Then I’m lost in him; in what I’m feeling; what he’s making me feel, and my pussy is soaking wet as he slides his fingers down to stroke my hard clit. My breasts ache with every rise and fall of my breathing, while his lips and tongue suckle my nipples into hard pebbles and my labored breathing comes faster.
He feels every inch of me, leaving nothing untouched, with his hands, his fingers, and his lips. Moving lower, he kisses me down one thigh and up the inside of the other, until his hot breath comes to rest at my pussy. Then he hesitates, long enough to draw a whimper from me, as he touches his finger to me there and spreads my aching cunt lips.
He slides his fingers up and down my slit, as he slowly moves closer, and then his lips are on me; his lips sucking my clit while he strokes me with the tip of his tongue, drawing small whimpers from me.
His hands hold my hips firmly as he drives his tongue into my smoldering cunt; darting in and out of my pussy, and driving me into white hot desire. Then he suckles my clit harder as he presses his finger into me, and I cry out with need of more; needing him to fill me with all of his hardness, needing him to quench this burning desire.
“Ohhh yesss! Yes!”
Then he slips two fingers into my tight, little, pussy. Unsatisfied with less than my everything, his fingers wiggle hard and deep inside of me, while the heat of his breath pounds against me. His tongue laves my clit, forcing me into a delirium I’ve never experienced, and I’m am whimpering and writhing with renewed vigor.
Then he drags his wet fingers to my lips and then I suckle them, slowly drawing his fingers into my mouth, as he pushes the head of his cock to my burning cunt. Barely entering me, at first, I close my eyes, drawing on any strength I might have left.
Then finally, he thrusts his granite erection into me, fast, deep, and hard, as he kisses away the scream that is rising in my throat. The, slowly, starts to withdraw, teasing and taunting me, forcing me to arch my back to pull him deeper.
Then he stops, and I am too far gone to understand, until he asks,
“What do you want, little miss,” knowing that this evening’s trauma is the furthest thing from my mind now, he is asking me to say the words.
Having reached the end of my tether, and craving him with a vengeance, I shout,
“Fuck me, damn it all! Fuck me, please!”
Then he drives his steel-hard cock into me as deeply as he can, burying himself up to his balls, in my hot, wet, snatch, thrusting harder with every stroke, pummeling me over and over, while I’m twisting and writhing beneath him. My whole body is shaking as my orgasm builds, and I let myself feel every ounce of his intensity. I let him push me beyond myself, until my scream split the air and he shudders on top of me.
The full, firm, length of him is throbbing hard inside of me, as my pussy contracts around his cock, with both of us still pushing and thrusting, refusing to stop until we’re too both spent to go on.
Finally, he claims me in a kiss that envelopes my soul, gently clipping my wings in that moment, and then holding me close as he removes my bonds. We both quickly entwine, wrapping our limbs around each other, as we let our breathing slow, just as the sun rises in the window and a whole new day begins.
© copyright May 08, 2015 – 02:36 AM – All Rights Reserved
Prior © copyright 2013-03-14 20:21:33 – All Rights Reserved