"I…"
I hate you.
Say it!
I turn around and shove him back and tumble on top of him in the grass, under a tree. He pulls me to him and our lips meet in the deepest kiss we've ever shared, full of loss and hunger and desire.
"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I can't fix this. I can't make it right."
I silence him with another kiss, and another, and another. We can't do this here. Someone could see us.
It's too late. It's
going
to happen.
He grasps my shoulders, gingerly, and pushes me back, pulling me away from him. I try to kiss him anyway but he's too strong.
"We can't. Please. I can't stay with you. I can't be with you."
"Shut up," I snap at him, and wriggle out of his grasp to fall on him again, wrap my arms around his neck and kiss him hard.
His fingers find my hair. His other hand slides up my leg, under the hem of my dress. Just his touch on the outside of my thigh sends a spasm of heat flaring through my body.
I get up, tug his hand. He rises to his feet and I pull him along away from the path, where someone could see us. Behind the park bench, back, into the trees. There he seizes me by the waist and
pushes me up against the tree, driving my legs apart, around him, crushing against me, surrounding me, possessing me. It's the other way around. He's
mine
. The passion is here. This is my passion. I feel like this moment is the only reason I've existed at all. My future is in his arms.
"Did you ever hurt anybody," I murmur, so close our breath is one.
"No. Never hurt anybody. Never stole from anybody who couldn't afford it."
"What changed? Why us?"
"Dad got in deep. I didn't know. Bad people have something over him. I can't fix this, Diana. I have to go. It's the only way you can stay safe…"
"You're not getting rid of me that easily. You don't get to rip my heart out. I won't allow it."
"I don't want to. I want to stay with you here, or wherever you want to go. I want to be like everybody out there. I want to wake up next to the same person every day. I want to have a family, a life, something to leave behind me. I'm sick of lying to everyone I meet. I never realized it until I met you."
I all but jump on him. He sinks to his knees with me, then onto his back, always kissing me back, hard. I kneel, straddling him, hike up my dress and shove my underwear down, fall on him and wriggle my way out of them. I almost tear at his clothes, freeing him from his pants and boxers, feel his shaft in my hand, and savor the look of dull shock on his face.
You'd think it was his first time.
I wince as I take him inside me. I thought it would be easier than this. I quiver and slow, and let go of his shaft as his length enters me. He grabs my waist, trying to slow me, but I hunch forward, shift a little until it becomes more comfortable, and slide down, ignoring the sting I feel until I'm sitting in his lap, his cock full inside me. I sit up a little and feel it shift and groan softly, and he rests his hand on my cheek. I grasp his wrist and rub his palm against my skin, and roll my hips, shifting him inside me. I can feel him tense up, trying to hold back.
Oh my God.
"Are you okay? Does it hurt?"
His voice is strangely innocent, full of awe and wonder, like his expression. I spread open his shirt as he pulls down the top of my dress and tugs my bra straps loose. The cups slide down my stomach and he grasps my breasts in his hands, running his thumb along the sensitive skin under them as I writhe on top of him. It feels so good, so
right
to have him inside me. I rest my weight on his hands and he lowers me down on top of him, wraps his arms around me, and holds me still as he begins to thrust into me from underneath, breathing hard in my hair.
I learn quickly. If I tilt my hips just the right way, roll them a little. This is different from anything I've ever felt. I swear I can feel his heart, his pulse racing through my body and mine racing through his. It's more than a physical connection, we're one, somehow. I feel tears on my cheek and he kisses them away and sits up, driving deeper inside me. He puts his hand on the small of my back and guides my movements as I ride him, my head propped on his shoulder. I can feel his body tensing. I squeeze his hips with my legs and whisper in his ear.
"Get me on my back and fuck me."
All at once I'm on my back, my legs locked around him. He cradles my head with his hand and drives into me hard, almost until it hurts, but not quite, like he
knows
. I dig my fingers into his hair and slide my other arm under his shirt, around his back, feeling his whole body rolling with energy as his cock surges inside me, sending shooters of pleasure curling down my limbs. My toes curl and I feel a rush of air as my left shoe pops right off my foot. He sucks on my neck as he fucks me, urged on by the motion of my hips, my nails digging into his back and raking his scalp.
His breath grows quick, pained, his body tightening. I forget everything but the aching pleasure spreading through my body, a special, luscious agony that coils in my muscles until it feels like they'll break, tightens in my stomach until I can't breathe for all the air I suck into my lungs, until there is no release even in crying out and
then
, it happens. It rolls through my body like I've been thrown into the ocean, shivers and shocks and
spiraling shooters of pleasure that rocket from my sex to my scalp as my toes curl and my nails dig into him, and he cries out. His moans rumble in my ear, a pleasure all their own, and I savor them as I crash through the peak. It's like rolling down a hill only to crest the next one and roll down again, and I don't know when it will stop. He drives against me, holding me tight, pushing the breath out of me until I wriggle a little and he loosens up, resting his head on my shoulder.
"Holy shit," he says. "Holy shit."
"Yeah," I purr, running my fingers through his hair. "I don't care what you did. I don't care what we have to do. I don't care what anyone says. You are not leaving me. Ever."
"I won't. Ever. Diana, I don't know what we're going to do. I don't know what to do anymore. I'm just
confused
."
"There must be a way. Somebody we can call, somebody-"
"To what? Anybody we call will put me in prison along with my father, and that won't stop us from getting killed. It doesn't matter where I go or where I hide, and now I have you to worry about."
He shifts, still inside me, and presses his cheek against mine as he holds me. "I am so sorry. So sorry. I still have to go."
I dig my nails into him and his whole body jerks.
"No. No, you are not taking this from me. No one will take you away from me."
He shakes his head, just a little. "You don't understand what we're dealing with. They're bad people…"
"I"m not a child. Just tell me."
"He says they're called the Fangs. A terrorist group."
Apollo rolls onto his back and pulls me with him. I wince a little as I shift my weight and slide my hips and he draws out of me.
I'm a mess. I've got leaves in my hair. So does he, for that matter. He sits up as I tug my panties back on, and I kneel beside him and put my head on his shoulder.
There has to be a way. There has to be something we can do.
Chapter 13: Apollo
Everything is different now. It's like the whole world has been repainted in a newer, more vibrant palette. I'm not on the outside anymore. I made it in. I'll never forget the luscious touch of Diana's lips on mine, the feel of her breasts in my hands, her soft skin under my fingers, the look on her face as she took me inside her and started to feel it, the silky tight grip of her sex around my shaft. Jesus, we didn't even use a condom.
It doesn't matter. There's never going to be another one after her. I should leave. I should get out of her life, let her move on, but it feels like there's something invisible wrapped around my heart, digging barbs into the muscle, and if I pull away it'll rip it out.
I could go again if she wants. I'm already getting hard again inside her. There's a million things I want to say, but I don't know how. She touches my face. I keep myself from laughing, just barely. She has leaves stuck in her hair. She looks like some kind of wood nymph. She's so beautiful. Those eyes. She rolls her hips and a spark of excitement flares inside me.
I'd stay here forever, if it was up to me. It's not. There's no hiding from the world out there, but it feels different now. I'm not alone anymore. We need to go inside. She knows it. She slides off of me. It feels incredible. When she bends to reach for her underwear I want to grab her hips and plunge inside her and fuck her until she begs for mercy, and from the last time I think she could go a good, long while. Claim her. Mark her. Make her mine. I tuck myself in and start arranging my clothes. With every second that ticks by the real world grows closer.
Diana shakes her head but it doesn't get all the leaves out. I end up standing behind her, running my fingers through her hair to get rid of them all, undoing her braids while I'm at it. By the time I'm done her hair hangs straight down her back in a lovely chestnut brown cascade. When I lean in and breathe in her scent she smells earthy and musky. She turns around in my arms and starts picking leaves out of
my
hair, grinning. It's like, for just a minute, I forget everything else. There is only her.
Then why do I feel a heavy pit in my stomach, like a great big glacier chewing up my guts?
It hits me, startles me. I have something to lose.
She's looking over my shoulder. I look around and realize how late it's getting. The wedding was around eleven, and we've been gone since then.
"I don't want to go back yet."
"Me either," she says, resting her head on my shoulder. "What are we going to do?"
"I don't know."
Her hand slides up my chest. "If we go for help, they'll take you away, won't they? The cops or whoever we call."
"Probably. I've been doing this for a long time."
"You were just a kid. You didn't know any better…"
"They won't care. I've been doing it as an adult for years. I knew what I was doing."
"Did you?"
I slip my arms around her. "It was like a movie, the whole time. We were adventurers. I thought I was the hero of my own story. I'm not a hero."
Her arms tighten around my ribs.
"Not yet."
"I don't know what to do. Tell me what to do."
"My mother needs to know. It will hurt her. She still needs to know."
"You want me to-"
"We both need to. Together. Then I'm going to stab your father to death with a potato peeler."
"Okay, wait,
what?"
"I don't want to go back yet," she sighs. "Not yet. Please. Can we just sit out here?"
Back to the bench. I sit down next to her and hand my head. This has been brewing for a long time. Something broke a while ago and it's been chafing between me and my father. This is the last straw. We had a code, or at least I thought we did. He had a reason of his own to take up with these people, I just don't know what they are.
"Are you okay?" she murmurs, taking my hand in hers.
"Am I okay? After what I just told you?"
"Yeah. Are you okay?"
"No. I was scared, Diana. I didn't want to hurt you."
"I know. I believe you." Her hand cups my cheek and she turns my head to look at her. "It sounds like your father tried very, very hard to make you into a bad man. And he failed."
"Diana, I don't-"
"Shhh. How old are you? Really? Did you lie to me about that?"
"No, I… I have work to do, don't I?"
She nods. "I don't trust you yet… I do but I don't. It's complicated."
"I know. I really am twenty years old. I'll be twenty-one in October."
"You weren't born on Halloween."
I smile, sadly. "No, the seventeenth."
"You have a long time to make up for it."
I look at her. Really look at her. There's more to Diana than her curves, her warm, pretty face, even her wonderful mismatched eyes. When she looks at me like that, it's like she sees something I don't even see in myself, when I look in the mirror.
The sun is setting. It's time to go back.
She grabs my hand.
"Let's go."
The walk back to the house is full of dread. It's like there's lead weights on my shoulders. The perfect moment is ending. It's time to step outside the snowglobe again. I try to pull my hand free of Diana's grip. I figure walking back into the house holding hands is a bad way to start this off. Her hand squeezes mine, and she won't let go. In my heart of hearts I'm glad she won't. She opens the door and we step inside. The party is still going. My father is drinking a flute of champagne, leaning on the kitchen counter. He looks over at me, and his eyes snap to our hands, still twined in each other. I shake loose of Diana's grip and feel like I'm letting something important slide a way.
"What are you doing?" he demands, softly. "You-"
"Shut up," Diana hisses, "Don't talk. Apollo told me everything."
I don't know what's going to happen. I guess a million things could. He could attack me, he could try to spin some kind of a story to Diana's mother and claim that I'm crazy and trying to drive a wedge between them so I can get my hands on Diana, it could be anything. The last thing I expect is for him to turn tail and run.
He does exactly that. He hurls the glass at me and bolts. I slap it out of the way and barely hear it shatter. He runs into the living room, heading for the front door, barreling through the guests. I charge in behind him and tackle him, hard. We go down on the carpet in the sitting room, and he drives his elbow into my gut and kicks at my legs, and the wind goes out of my lungs. He almost gets loose, until I get my hand on his belt and drag him back with all my might, bellowing in wordless fury. We roll.
He lands on top of the coffee table. In a movie, it would crack in half and the legs would bust out from under it. In real life he howls in agony as the edge drives into the small of his back and the force of the impact tips the table over and dumps him on the floor. He gets to his knees, takes a clumsy swing at me, I duck out of the way and drive my fist into his stomach. Somebody grabs my arm.