“No I’m not,” he protested.

“Yes you are.”

“I just want to know why you kept walking with him, that’s all.”

“Because he was keeping me from totally losing it,” I snapped.

“I could have done that, if you’d’ve just let me know – ”

“Which you would have known if you were paying the slightest bit of attention to me instead of hanging out with Killian the whole time!”

When I figured out he was jealous, I’d momentarily forgotten my anger – mostly because I was so shocked (and secretly a little pleased) – but now it was back in full force. I pulled away from him and went over to the window, where I stared out into the darkness.

It’s funny, I hadn’t been angry about that afternoon at all until we started talking about it.

I suppose I had just accepted my experiences as par for the course when taking illegal substances.

Either that, or I hadn’t realized there was anything to be angry about because I had been so out of it.

But now that my head was clearing, I felt like I had been standing in front of a giant painting of sunflowers for hours, and just now somebody had pointed to it and said, “See that? See alllllll that yellow?”

Hadn’t even noticed it before.

And now it’s all I could see.

There was a moment’s silence. Then Derek walked over to me and put his hand on my shoulder.

I shrugged it off.

“Hey,” he said gently. “Hey.”

I hugged myself like I was cold.

That just made me think of earlier, when I’d been cold out in the desert – and he hadn’t even noticed.

I didn’t want to be there right now.

I didn’t want him to be there right now.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered behind me.

The tight ball of anger in my chest relaxed the tiniest bit.

I felt his arms circle my waist, and I could feel him press up against me. Could feel the warmth of his body radiating into me.

“You’re right. I fucked up. I should have been there for you.”

The anger was slowly lessening… but I still wanted to hang onto it. Wanted to milk it some more, I guess.

“Yeah, you should have,” I said in a clipped voice…

…even though inside me I was saying, Make me believe you mean it.

“I’m sorry. You’re my girlfriend, you shouldn’t have to have another guy take care of you when you needed me, even if it was my best friend. I should’ve been there for you. It won’t happen again.”

“I – ”

The drugs were still muddying my brain, because it took a second for the words to register.

When they did, it was like an earthquake inside me.

I wheeled around. “I’m your girlfriend?”

I could see the edge of his face lit by starlight from the window. He was smiling.

“Of course you are,” he whispered.

I just stood there in shock, my mouth slightly open.

He must have misinterpreted my silence, because I heard an edge of alarm creep into his voice. “I mean… if you want to be…”

I stood there for a few seconds more, just totally overcome.

And then I answered with my body.

I crushed myself against him, took his face in my hands, and kissed him hard.

He returned it passionately. I felt his powerful arms encircle me, hold me close to him, press me tight against him.

When I finally pulled away, my chest heaving, I looked into his eyes.

“Yes,” I whispered. “Yes.”


We made love after that, and it was extraordinary.

The mushrooms were still affecting me, so that was obviously part of it.

But even more powerful was the emotional high I was on.

The two of those things combined were absolutely mind-blowing.

A few minutes before, my anger had taken me out of the moment.

Now my love and desire for him made nothing exist but the here and now.

His body, my body, become one.

At times, it was hard to tell where he ended and I began.

We kissed at first – a long, slow, lingering kiss that seemed to last forever. Just like out in the desert, I lost all sense of time. It might have been two minutes, or it might have lasted fifteen. All I know is that as he touched my arms, I could feel him stir every downy little hair. When his mouth moved across mine, I could feel the hot, wet, feverish slide of his lips pull against my skin. His breath in my ear was just as erotic as any touch, and when I felt his body pressed against mine, it felt like I had found a part of me I hadn’t known I had lost.

He slowly pulled my shirt over my head, then unfastened my bra and let it fall to the floor. I did the same to his t-shirt, and luxuriated in the feel of my skin against his, the softness of my breasts against his hard body, the tips of my hardened nipples sensitive beyond belief as they brushed across his skin.

After another few minutes of kissing deeply, he knelt down and took off my boots, then unzipped my jeans and pulled them – along with my underwear – down to the floor. He kicked off his boots, and I hurriedly undid his pants, pulling them down until I exposed his gorgeous cock standing upright and stiff.

He pressed against me, enfolding me in his arms as he kissed me again. I could feel his shaft, hard and hot, pressing against me; it was like I was hyperaware of the space it took up, the exact outline of its surface against my belly.

His skin was so enticing. I couldn’t stop my hands from running over it, over the firm swells of muscles in his arms, his shoulders, his back. His fingers roved over my body, too, dropping down to my ass… softly cupping me there, clutching me, pressing me harder into his cock, grinding me against its scorching heat.

He led me over to the bed and pulled back the covers. I sat down while he remained standing… but now that I was eye-level with his cock, I became utterly fascinated. (Remember – still on drugs.) I reached out my hand and caressed it softly. Every throbbing vein in its velvety surface was beautiful… ever dark curl of hair was bewitching. I just stared at it as I stroked it, softly, slowly, feeling his heartbeat in my hand like it was its own living thing. The same way the desert had breathed that afternoon, I felt his cock expand and pulse in my hand.

That must have gone on for a couple of minutes, me just staring and stroking… feeling the weight and size and mass of him… enjoying the heat of his skin… running my fingers through his soft thatch of curls… watching a bead of his juices slowly appear from the tiny little slit in his swollen head, like a raindrop on pink silk.

Suddenly he groaned. That broke me out of my trance, and I lay back on the bed and beckoned to him, and he slowly laid down between my legs.

He began kissing me again. He put his arms under my back, his hands curling up over my shoulders. Using his grip as leverage, he slowly entered me. My eyelids fluttered as I felt the hot, swollen head press against me – and realized how wet I was for the first time. His cock sloooowly eased into me, and I swear I could feel every millimeter of him as the friction pulled against the inward walls of my pussy, my wetness enveloping him, drenching him, as he edged deeper and deeper inside me.

He began to rock gently, and again I was aware of the size of it, the mass, as it filled me up – and then it was like he was actually part of me. I couldn’t tell where my pussy ended and his cock began. It was just one glorious continuum of pleasure and pressure and fullness as he slid so far out I was afraid our oneness would end… and then slid back in, so deep inside me that I gasped, feeling him gently touch places I hadn’t known existed.

I moaned and stared into his eyes as he pulled away with his pelvis… and then used his arms on my body to pull himself back inside me, forcing me down on him, slowly driving himself deeper into me, filling me up. He never stopped staring at me, or me at him, as our breath commingled in long, slow sighs.

The feeling was incredible. Soft and wet, but hard and firm, sweet and lovely as he moved in and out of me. I felt myself getting closer and closer to orgasm, and my eyes half-closed, but I kept looking at him, never took my eyes away as the sweetness built, getting bigger, getting hotter, the contractions starting, getting faster, getting stronger, and then suddenly I was coming, my pussy clamping down on his cock as he eased in and out. I could feel every slow, luxurious, lingering inch of him, swelling inside me, pressing against me, giving me so much pleasure that I didn’t know what to do but whimper and moan, because it was soooo slow… soooo intense… like there wasn’t an end in sight. The flutterings would slowly die down, but as I felt his hardness, his thickness, wet and full inside me, slowly pressing deeper inside me, moving in and out, the contractions would slowly ramp up again. I came a second time, the pleasure flowing through me, slowly welling up, not like a sharp incline and drop-off, but a plateau I kept hitting again and again and again. I didn’t climax as powerfully as I had the other times he had been inside me, but it was pretty damn close. Then it would die away. Sixty seconds later, it would begin to build again, slowly pulsing around his thick, luscious cock, the sensations peaking every one or two minutes, then ebbing away, then building again, until I couldn’t tell where one orgasm ended and the next one began.

I think by the fourth one my eyes had rolled back inside my head. When I looked at him again, he was just staring at me, like he had never seen anything more fascinating.

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