I watch her come. It’s honestly the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. She doesn’t quite scream, but the sounds she makes are loud and breathy and desperate, and her hips are rolling violently on mine, grinding with my c**k deep inside her, and she’s clawing at her own body, as if there is a fountain of fire inside her and she’s got to get it out any way she can. Her hands lift her own tits, crush them as she whimpers and moans, riding me wildly, and I can only match her thrust for thrust, and I feel my own release pouring through me. I grip her hips and jerk her down onto me, drive up into her, and the groans coming from me are her name, chanted the way she did mine last time.
Her eyes are open and watching me, and I can’t take my gaze from her, even though as I come my instinct is to close my eyes. I keep them open and let her see into me as I release. Our hips meet in slow clashing stuttering grinding, and then we go still and she collapses on top of me, panting. Her weight on me is nothing at all, and I hold her, smoothing her hair back and scratching her back and caressing her ass.
“That was even better than the first time,” she mumbles. “I can’t wait to see how good it is next time.”
“Me, neither.”
“Can I just sleep here?” She burrows into me, and I hold her tight.
“Yeah, babe.” I feel myself slipping out of her, and grimace. “Let me just get rid of this.” I pull out, and she shifts forward so I can pull the condom off, tie a messy, clumsy, but effective knot it in and stuff in the crack between the bed and the wall to throw away later.
“I don’t wanna ever move. I wanna stay here forever, just like this,” she murmurs into my ear.
“Me, too.”
Silence stretches between us, comfortable and easy. I feel her slipping into sleep, and I know I have to stay awake to make sure she’s home on time. It’s hard, though. She’s a warm, comforting weight on me, her hair tickling me, her breath on my neck, her hands affectionate and tender in my hair, curled by my face. Nothing has ever been this perfect. Nothing.
I pull the flat sheet up to partially cover us, and feel myself getting drowsy. I try to stay awake, but it’s futile.
I’m woken by the front door opening and closing, the sounds of Mom coming home early, setting her things down, lighting a cigarette. I glance at the clock: 1:39. Shit, Kylie has to go.
I hear my door open, and Mom squeaks in surprise when she sees the naked girl asleep on top of me. “Close the door, Mom.” I say it calmly, although I’m anything but.
Kylie jerks awake at the sound of my voice, twists to look, and I feel her go tense. “Shit.”
She rolls off me and tugs the sheet over herself. “Mrs. Hyde—” But Mom is closing the door, and we’re alone again. “Oh, my god, Oz. She saw us. I’m so embarrassed!”
“It’s okay, babe. It’s fine. It’s not a big deal.” I brush a lock of hair away from her eyes. “It was good timing. though. It’s getting late.”
Kylie glances at the clock. “Dammit, I do have to go.”
I groan. “Yeah. I don’t want you to, though.”
“Me, neither.”
I stand up and hold my hands out to her, help her stand. We both dress, and then we leave the sanctuary of my room.
Mom is sitting on the couch, smoking a cigarette and drinking a beer, the TV tuned to some reality show rerun, a bunch of rich bitches yelling at each other. She glances at us as we emerge, and the air in the room gets very, very awkward. “Hi. Um. Oz. Who’s—who’s this?”
“Mom, this is my girlfriend, Kylie Calloway.”
“Hi. Um. How’s it going?” Kylie clearly doesn’t know what to say, how to act, whether we should address what just happened.
I decide to tackle it head on. “Look, Mom, about just now—”
Mom holds up her hand to stop me. “Oz, you’re an adult. We don’t need to talk about it. I’ll knock from now on, and you keep your door closed.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
“You are being…safe…right?” Mom says through a cloud of smoke.
“Yes, Mom. Promise. Now we’re not talking about this anymore.” I put my hand to Kylie’s back, nudging her toward the door.
“’Bye, Mrs. Hyde,” Kylie says.
“Call me Kate. See ya later, sweetie.”
I walk Kylie to her car, make sure she gets in, and lean through the open window. “Lock your doors, and go through the red lights if there’s anyone nearby.”
“Oz.” She runs her hand through my hair. “I wish I could stay. I wish we could just…never have to do this. Never have to say goodbye.”
“I know. Me, too.”
She makes a face, scrunching her eyebrows and pursing her lips. “Your mom took that better than I expected.”
“Well, we’re basically just roommates at this point. I only moved here with her and live with her to help her out with rent and bills. I live my life, and she lives hers.”
“So she’s really just…your friend?” Kylie asks.
I don’t answer for a long time. “Do we have to talk about this now?”
Kylie shrugs. “No. I’m just curious.”
“I guess you could say we’re friends. But there’s a lot she’s always refused to tell me. I know absolutely zip about my father, and she won’t ever tell me shit. I know I’ve mentioned this. I don’t know much about her, either. And I sure as shit don’t tell her about my life. So…friends? To me, friends share things. Tell each other shit, whatever. Mom and I don’t do that. So are we friends? I don’t know. I’ve never really had any friends, so I’m not sure I’m the best judge of what a friend really is. She’s my mother, and my only family. She’s the only constant I’ve ever had in my life. In her own way, she’s reliable. She’s kept a roof over my head, food in my belly, clothes on my back. She didn’t, like, abuse me, and there was never a constant train of boyfriends. I don’t know if she’s ever had a boyfriend, actually. If she has, I haven’t known about it.” I realize this as I’m saying it, and I’m not sure what to think or feel about it all. “So she always…fulfilled her responsibilities as my mother. She made sure I went to school, packed my lunches, kissed me if I got hurt as a little kid. But…are we close? I don’t think I could say we are. Not like you are with your folks. I think Mom and I are…just two people thrown together by fate.”