Queen Solomon - Page 22

‘You’re going to make me cum…’ I said.

Barbra cackled and lifted her head back up. I did not recognize my voice. The game began again.

‘Suck me, little girl,’ I said weakly. ‘Or I’m not taking you home.’

Barbra licked her bird’s speckled teeth.

‘Suck my cock now or I won’t take you home.’

‘What makes you think that I want to go home?’

Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes like two oysters. Tongue gloss, all this strange mush sheen. I wanted to turn her to mush everywhere. I did not want her to ever go home again.

‘Suck it,’ I said.

I dropped my underwear down. Took my hand off myself. Bobbing and stuck, red-dicked in front of her crossed eyes.

‘Fuck you, Jew-boy.’

My gut lurched. I made her. Don’t call me Jew-boy. I forced her mush mouth to my dick head. She cackled again. I crouched down toward her tits. This was a fight. I put one sweaty hand on the back of her head. All her hairs twisted around my two thumbs. I felt angry. I thought of domestic abuse. Then I slid deeper in, pushed myself hard at her lips. She pretended to gag but she opened for me. She was laughing at me. Her oyster eyes roamed. Did she read that whole book? She opened her jaw. Felt like roots in her mouth, felt like fern tongues and shoots. My legs were on fire, she sucked it, my whole body taut.

‘Little girl, little girl, I’m going to cum …’

My whole body pumped like an overworked heart. But then, rapidly, somehow, she ejected my cock. I looked down at her lips, the g

ushes of spit. My cock was slick, yellowish, wrinkled near the head. I wanted her back but she slithered away.

Barbra, I’m sorry, I wanted to say.

‘Take me home,’ Barbra murmured, back on her belly. ‘I wanna go home. Nothing is good here. I wanna go home.’

I heard myself make this one awful noise. I did not ever want to be a soldier in my life. Abductors are people who’ve found their worst side.

‘Did you hear me, bruh? I said, take me home.’

I squatted low and hovered an inch off her back. Like some kind of he-man, I jerked myself off. Bird’s-eye view. Where was home? This felt like the beginning all over again. My asshole confusion. She drank way too much.

‘Can I cum, Barbra? Please?’

My thighs were on fire. Just me and her in this home. I used my free hand to pinch the side of her tit. She lifted up from that side so I could get my whole hand on it. She was superhuman. She read more than me. Her nipple burned through my palm. My hard cock touched the back of her ass. I needed both hands.

‘Barbra. Bar-ba-ra.’ I heard myself saying her name.

She had ruptured my force field for seven weeks.

‘Cum,’ she hissed. ‘Cum.’

I jerked over her back. I spit from above. I was still the abductor. I took her right to the plane. Bar-ba-ra. Bar-bruh.

She was not kicked out of the army, that’s what my father believed.

My mother said, ‘Everyone has to respect what she needs.’

But I knew the truth of her story. She was righteous. She’d been punished. This was her healing. I was doing what she wanted. I wanted her to suck me all over again. One more day. Every night. Barbra mumbled in Hebrew. I covered her ear with my palm and stared down at her ass. It rippled like a lizard in her short shorts, cleaving me.

‘You are in love with me, Jew-boy,’ Barbra said.

Yeah, was this was what love felt like? The urge to puncture and bury? Lines of blood boiling inside your brain?

Tags: Tamara Faith Berger Fiction
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