Sing

CHAPTER 8.

JONATHAN

I feel her.

We speak. I want to possess her, but I can’t find the strength to move my arms. I smell her canned peaches scent and hear the warm caramel of her voice. I answer her in short sentences, because I feel like I gulped a handful of driveway and forgot how to swallow.

She taps my arm as she describes what I’m going to do to her. I think, even in my state, I get hard, because it’s an epic fuck from her sweet mouth. I don’t even know if she notices it, but with that tapping finger, she’s keeping a rhythm as she tells the story, and I strain to listen as unconsciousness tries to invade again. I hear her words, but what I feel when she talks about me hurting her, is the connection created when her pain turns to pleasure, and she is under me, a piece of the world I control completely, for a moment in time.

“You’re good at this,” I said. “I’m taking mental notes.”

“When did the doctor say you could enslave me again?”

“As soon as I was up to it.”

“I predict, day after tomorrow.”

“You’re selling me short.”

“I’ll be at your service tomorrow, if you want. But you’re in here for five days, and you need to be alone tonight.”

I grumbled deep in my throat. She was right, of course. The drugs hadn’t even worn off. I had no idea how I was going to feel about sex once the pain kicked in, all I knew was, I wanted to be inside her.

“Go sleep in your bed tonight, then.”

“If I’m up at 3am, I’ll think of you.” She stood straight and got her bag. “Actually, if I’m awake any time, I’ll think of you.”

She leaned down to kiss me, and I touched her lips.