With her other hand, Veah’s knuckles graze the underside of my breasts. Her touch on me is demanding, territorial, and I know I can’t last much longer.
I throw my head back. Panting. Veah
Come, she orders, and I shatter at her command. A guttural moan escapes me. Pleasure unfurls in my blood like the burning of a star, almost cataclysmic. Her skin on mine, her body moving with mineit feels like ecstasy, and the climax keeps shuddering through me, relentless.
Once I am panting, breathless, spent, I see the wicked smile on her face. Her hand is between my legs, tantalizing as it draws over the wetness buried there.
Just as her fingertip slips inside of me, I grab her by the collar of her jacket and bring her mouth to mine. And then I push heruntil she is against the wall.
I fumble to undo the button of her pants, hungry to take off her shirt, her bra. Her piercing eyes meet mine. I want to taste you, I say breathlessly.
But then she lifts me by my hips. My arms curl instinctively over her neck as she carries me to the wide, velvet couch and lays me down.
Her knee between my legs, she leans overkissing me hotly, roughly.
With her mouth on mine, I flip her over until she is beneath me.
I said I want to taste you, I growl.
Her eyes widen, a reflection of my own feral desire. Then she watches as my hands explore her body, tracing every edge of her, every scar, until I reach that place where I know she is the most vulnerable.
The power to the way Veah walks, the sheer confidence in the way she fights . . .
I want to make her weak with my touch. I want to see her break with pleasure because of me.
And by the time I am done, I have.
I think, Veah says finally, a slight hitch to her chest, that you’re a sex addict.
We’ll see about that, I promise.
She seals her mouth to mine, and I don’t know when her arms began to feel like home, but curled on her chest, with her fingers brushing my hair, I feel safe.
I fuck her again, and again, and even once against the giant glass window, with the city lights sparkling far below us.
I manage to lose track of time altogether, until Veah and I are lying on the couch where we started. She says, What movie did you pick out ?
Taken, I tell her.
That one about the girl who gets kidnapped ?
Yeah, I say, slipping the disc into the TV’s player. That movie scared me for ages when I was a kid. I haven’t watched it since then.
Then I feel special, Veah says, that you finally feel safe enough to watch it with me.
Well, I tease. If I ever got taken, you’d probably kill hundreds of people just to get me back, too.
There is not a single trace of amusement on her face.
I would, she says, as though she is entirely serious.
Oh, come on, I say, laughing. I think even you have a limit, killing machine and all.
Veah’s voice is low, soft. Dangerous. Do you remember when I told you there are still things you don’t know about me ? About how I got involved in the Mafia ?
Yes, I say, hesitating.
Then trust me. Veah’s eyes search mine. I have the ability to kill everyone who stands in my way. In the apartment next door, I can hear whoever is moving around in the kitchen. If I wanted to, I could throw that kitchen knife through the wall and kill him without even getting off this couch.
How . . .
I’ll tell you one day, Veah says, and there is something like nervousness in the way she looks at me. As though she is sure I will think she is a monster. I promise. But right now, I just want to lay here with you, and watch a make-believe movie about a make-believe girl and a make-believe kidnapping.
I settle into her open arms, resting my cheek against her chest. I can hear her heart beating, soft and steady.
I love you, I finally say, as the movie begins playing.
And I love you.
Halfway through the movie, I fall asleep. My dreams are made of white sand, blue skies, and a girl with lightning eyes, making love to me on the beach.