Forgive Me by Eliza Freed Page B

thighs.
    “I’m rarely in a situation where lying is necessary.”
    “Didn’t you have a boyfriend at Rutgers?” he asks, and his question is so innocent. It’s as if we’re on a first date.
    “No. It all seemed very immediate, and temporary.” I think back over all the conversations I’ve had with guys at college. Noble is probably the most meaningful male relationship I’ve had there. “Violet’s had a boyfriend since freshmen year. She’s the boyfriend type. The rest just have different levels of entertainment.”
    “Surely you’ve at least hooked-up with people.”
    “A few here and there. Formal dates. Very randomly, but once in a while, someone piques my interest at a party.” Jason kisses the top of my head. His gentleness seems so distant. “Mostly they make fun of my southern accent and my height. Tall blondes aren’t as common in North Jersey as in South Jersey.”
    “I wouldn’t call you common in any region,” he says, as he pulls into my parents’ driveway and those are the last words he speaks.
    *  *  *
    I turn my head toward the morning light and see my belt still hanging from the corner post of my headboard. Without looking I know there is a matching one on the other side. I swallow hard at the memories of last night. My cheeks burn as I remember crying out as I came, blindfolded and bound. This cannot be wrong. God would not have created something in this universe that’s this good and then made it wrong. His words, whispered near my face, again ring in my head, “I’m only going to leave you blindfolded for a while. It’s not the same for me without your green eyes, but I want you to feel it.” I shiver and curl my knees to my chest. I am sore from my ankles to my wrists. Even my lip hurts from when he yanked it with his teeth. He is an animal. I am fucking an animal. The chill moves from my cheeks to my chest and travels down as I roll toward him. He smiles without opening his eyes and seems like the gentlest beast in the jungle. I climb on top of him, straddling him as I kiss every inch of his neck with tiny, sweet kisses. By the time I’m able to see him, he is practically laughing. I squeeze my legs around the enormous width of his waist and kiss him fiercely; more his pace. I stop and look into his gray eyes, now completely void of humor.
    “I love you, Jason Leer.” It’s like old habit. How long have I loved him?
    “I know.” He sits up, still beneath me. He kisses me and his hard-on jabs into my leg. Without thinking, I rise up and guide him into me. That’s better . There’s no need for provocative foreplay with Jason. His very presence renders me ready, up for anything. He raises me up with his hands supporting my bottom. He pulls me down hard and the air is forced from my chest. Even on top, I surrender to him. He is always in control, and it’s so good. I ride Jason until the images of last night enter my mind and I close my eyes and raise my face to the ceiling. He slows his pace.
    “What are you thinking about?”
    “Last night,” I say, and verbalizing the words sends a chill to both nipples. I open my eyes and look down. You love it when I watch . I watch as I again begin to rise and fall on top of the great Jason Leer. I forget to blush, forget to be embarrassed, and forget I am an orphan as I come with Jason Leer in me for the thousandth time.
    *  *  *
    I wrap my arms around his neck and Oklahoma crashes into my mind. I hold him tighter, willing him to stay with me forever, and he pulls me back to face him.
    “I’m right here,” he says, and I start to cry. He lays me down next to him, his hand on my breast, and curls up at my side. He nuzzles his face in my neck and whispers in my ear, “I will always be right here, Annie.”

~ 9 ~
    “What have you lost, my soul begs me to see”
    I ’ll pick you up at seven. Wear your dirty shoes,” he adds and I shake my head slightly in confusion.
    “I don’t have dirty shoes,” I say before I