He was trying to pin her eyes with his, but she wouldn’t let him. She didn’t want him to see her cry, so she got up off the cheap, wooden chair in front of the bed and went into her bathroom, slamming the door behind her. Her upper thighs were still slick and her body was telling her brain it needed to cum again. But her brain wasn’t having it. She turned on the shower and escaped into the stall, her palms planted against the wall as she lowered her head into the spray. Wet hair hung down around her face like tendrils of midnight. Tears forced their way past her clenched eyelids as she pulled her hands back to her body and touched her swollen nipples, rolling them in gentle twists.

She felt like a dark, foreign thing inside her skin. She tried reaching back through herself to a time when her mind had still been flexible, but she couldn’t find where it was. Harte would leave town in the morning, and after he was gone for a while – piece by piece – maybe the rest of who she was would come back home. She was trying to hate him for going away. It was supposed to make it easier, she kept rolling back time to the few minutes before when she’d been furiously drumming the pads of her fingers across her clit as she arched forward, waiting to see his desire boil over in an explosion of cum.

It was Monday, and like every Monday for the past three years, he’d come to see her at her cramped apartment. They spent some time sitting like people who’d known each other longer – and in a different way - saying the kinds of things that needed being said to somebody, but nobody usually listened to.

Like that.

And they would look at each other like the king and queen of some endangered species in a dwindling rainforest. Every time Harte looked like he was about to tell her he loved her, she’d start touching herself to distract him enough to shut up.

In all that time they’d never touched once. Watching. Only watching.

Sparrow loved him too much to tell him so. And if she ever fucked him she knew he’d never leave town.

She knew he’d been with others, just as she had, but they never talked about such things. They just watched each other with a mutual craving for the disaster she would never allow.

A feeling of weightlessness came over her in those private moments in the shower. Her nipples thickened in the rough clamp of her rolling fingers, until her body felt made of pure sensation. The rising warmth in her pussy radiated throughout her. Despite having cum not long before, her hand moved down her body to cup her mound. She raked the damp furrow with a long finger. The lips parted easily as she teased herself, feeling a new flush of nectar. The pulse in her clit was already growing strong again.

“Harte…oh, damn you, Harte,” she sighed. A barely audible whisper as the fingertip circled her sensitive nub.

She forced herself to stop massaging her clit, and shut off the water. She hastily wrapped one towel around her body and wrapped her wet hair up with another. When she stepped back into the bedroom, Harte was lying on her bed, having moved from the chair where he’d been sitting before.

He was still naked, and had piled all the pillows to prop himself up, allowing his legs to splay forward across the bed. His big, ripe erection was jutted up against his cobbled abs while he casually fondled his heavy balls with his left hand. In his right, he was holding Sparrow’s panties to his face, the ones she’d tossed on the floor earlier. His eyes were closed, and Sparrow froze in her tracks when she saw how lost he was becoming in her scent.

“Put those down,” she said. The iciness she wanted to throw into her voice ended up sounding like something else. Like there was something stuck in her throat.

He inhaled deep and loud, then opened his eyes. “Sometimes you make me so angry I want to talk to you like you’re a man.”

“Be my guest.”

“Trust me. It’s better I don’t.”

She watched him a moment, giving him a chance to surrender to his anger, wishing he would. Get it out and get it over with. But he didn’t. He just closed his eyes and inhaled another bodyful of air through her panties. She resented the way it made the lips of her pussy quiver. She forced herself to walk calmly to the vanity and sit. It was either that or jump on that imposing cock and ride it until she forgot her own name.

He opened his eyes and tracked her as his hand shifted away from his balls to grasp his thick shaft. He held it up straight, slowly stroking. Sparrow pulled the towel loose from her long, damp hair. The harder she worked at appearing calm and unaffected, the harder her pussy ached and throbbed.

She watched him. He was watching her, much as he had before, but there was something different in his eyes, as if a different force were beginning to take over inside him. She would have been hard pressed to come up with a name for it, but it made her broiling pussy feel like it was oozing all over the seat.

It took a moment to find her voice, and when she did, it seemed to come from somewhere deeper in her throat.

“Harte, you’re looking at me funny,” she said. “You never looked at me quite that way before.”

He set her panties down beside him on the bed, still stroking slowly, but his grip on his cock was firmer. “Yes I have,” he said. There was a steely resolve in the sound of his voice. “And you know it. You’ve seen it a thousand times.”

Sparrow glanced away and peeled the towel off her body. The room was stuffy and close. It stank of rubber and diesel from the street below, but the scent of lavender bodywash was fresh on her damp skin. She sat with her shoulders proudly squared, pushing her prominent breasts forward and pulling her long, smooth thighs apart. Her heart raced as she spread her slippery pussylips with her fingers, massaging her slit while Harte watched. His chest looked like a living sculpture as it heaved with a deep groan.

“It’s a dangerous look, Harte,” she said. She could barely push her voice past a whisper. As much as she’d always been so aroused by his body, the look in his eyes made her want to explode around the finger dipping inside her sheath. She drew it back out slowly and sent two fingers back in on the next stroke. Her fingers were soaked, sliding so easily in and out of her pussy.

“I have to fucking go away tomorrow,” he told her. “Without you, and you know how much I hate that. I don’t know which one of us is the bigger idiot – me for leaving or you for not coming with me. So if you think I’m taking one blessed step without saying how much I love you then think again.”

His cock looked even bigger now, if that was possible. Glistening ooze was seeping over his distended crown.

“You know how it is, Harte,” she insisted weakly. “It always had to be like this. So just watch out how you look at me. Watch what you say. And whatever the fuck you do, watch out what make me feel.”

“No…I’m kind of beyond wanting to be careful. After tomorrow, I don’t know when I’ll even see you again…or if I do you’ll be going around with someone I can’t fucking stand even if I don’t know him. So you can come over here on your own…or else I’ll come over there and get you.”

“Harte,” she sighed, clenching her eyes shut briefly.

“Fuck.”

“Come. Here.”

She stood. Her long legs felt shaky as she approached the bed. She crawled onto the mattress and spread her thighs. Her body trembled as she watched him move onto his hands and knees to bring his face to her open pussy. She could feel the heat of each breath hitting her.

“God, you’re beautiful,” he groaned. “Your skin makes me think of burnt cinnamon. I have to burn the taste of you into my soul or I’ll never have the strength to leave.” He planted a hungry kiss on her gaping slit. His tongue teased quickly into the aperture of her channel and then back out. Sparrow mewled like a jungle feline.

Harte’s tongue moved slowly up her slit, finally drawing in on the aching swell of her clit. He slipped a thumb inside her sheath and started rolling the tip of his tongue around the hyper-sensitive nub. Sparrow’s spine arched and her nails dug lines across the sheets.

She’d always told herself she’d do anything for him, even give him up to let him get away for his own good, but as he made love to her dripping pussy her mind began to spin off into the knowledge of what she knew she was letting go. She was grinding against his mouth and fingers as they lit a fire in the core of her spirit. His tongue and thumb smoothly swapped places, and she suddenly lost the power to think about anything but the slick scrape of his thumb and lips over her pussy. She felt alive and beautiful and needed.

Harte’s lips, fingers and tongue felt like they were everywhere at the same time. Sparrow grew delirious and lost track of time. She lost track of whom and where they were. At some point, she realized she was lying back against the piled up pillows at the head of her bed, her legs pulled up high while Harte kept on with his hungering onslaught. He was sucking her swollen clit while two of his fingers were gliding in and out of her pussy. Then one of the fingers changed course, and rolled against her puckered bud.

Sparrow cried out when Harte touched her rim. His finger was slippery with her froth, and he massaged the taut ring while the moist suction he put on her clit was enough to make her see sparks. Then he worked the tip of his finger just inside the tight hole, barely to the first knuckle. It was enough to force breathless whimpers from her throat. She felt like she was growing weaker as her pleasure grew stronger.

“Oh…oh Harte…oh fuck!” she gasped.

Harte’s finger slowly pushed inward, opening the aperture and gently blazing a slick, warm trail into her ass. Then his thumb slipped back inside her pussy. He rocked his hand in a see-saw motion, the finger sliding up her ass while the thumb drew back, thumb sliding in while the finger drew back. All the while his lips were suctioned around her clit, and his tongue lashed around the burning little nub until Sparrow clenched up fistfuls of sheet.

She gasped sharply and started to cum. Her entire body trembled as shockwaves of pleasure ripped through her from her heels to her temples. She let go of the sheet and clutched at Harte’s head, trying to grasp up handfuls of his hair.

She was afraid she might never catch her breath again. But she did, of course, and she found herself staring into Harte’s gleaming eyes as he looked up from his position between her thighs. His lips and chin were shining with her body’s honey.

Harte propped himself back up and leaned over her. She felt like a captive to her own breath as he leaned in and kissed her. He kissed her as if he needed her mouth to live. His lips and tongue held the pervasive tang of her pussy. His engorged cock bobbed between their sweating bodies. Sparrow reached for his solid stalk with both hands. She cupped his balls in one while the other encircled the thick flesh. She felt his flaring dome and found it creamy-wet with pre-cum.

She whimpered into his mouth and guided his cock toward her slit. She was still feeling the high from her orgasm, and yet she was dazed with the need to feel him inside her. Each moaned weakly into the other’s mouth as Harte’s full, round knob pressed into her drooling gap. She clutched his solid ass while he pushed deeper. He was impossibly hard. Her eyes watered as he gradually forged in to the hilt.

She felt him hold still a moment, letting her feel the heat and pulse of his strong shank. They looked at each other in hazy disbelief while Harte drew his cock backward and then pushed back inside. Sparrow moaned and whimpered, “Yes, baby. Yes…fuck me.”

Harte began stroking into her with steady thrusts. The rhythm was even and patient at first, the strong slip-sliding of his cock seeming to open new avenues of pleasure within Sparrow’s body on every stroke. She cooed and whimpered and groaned while her pussy swallowed up every inch of him with greed.

She couldn’t decide if it was the best or worst thing that could possibly happen. Her pussy was telling her it was the best. Every tingling nerve in her body said so, too. When he started sucking her nipples, pumping harder and faster into her channel, she gave up the debate and dug her nails into his flexing ass cheeks, just shy of breaking the skin. He was soon pounding into her with forceful thrusts, slamming her whole body against the mattress.

Sweat broke across Harte’s forehead as Sparrow watched a look blaze into his eyes that frightened her. Anger and love, the two most feral and unpredictable forces anyone could possess tightened the muscles in his face. Suddenly his left hand appeared at her throat, gripping her hard enough to pin her to the mattress without cutting off her ragged breath. He shoved at her body with his hips and her thighs lifted higher, her ankles crossing over his lunging ass. He raised his right hand and smacked her haunch with a sharp crack of flesh on flesh.

“How fucking dare you send me away,” he growled, and smacked her again, harder. “How the fuck could you ever let love walk right out your door?” He swatted her haunch three times hard and fast, driving his powerful cock through her sodden maw with the same force and speed. With his left still clamped firmly over the base of her throat, the fingers of his right dug hard into generous meat of her rocking ass.

Sparrow’s body started to shiver uncontrollably as the wave of a fresh, new release overtook her. Harte uttered a strangled wail as his overheated cock began to leap with deep surges of pleasure. She felt every hot twitch and pulse of the rock hard flesh driving her entire body against the bed. She saw moisture well up in his eyes until they were shining with rapture.

She ran her hands along his strong arms, amazed how they could be so beautifully ripped, and yet tremble so much as he spent his forceful spasms inside her. There was so much cum spilling out of him it started spilling back out of her, too, and she could feel the rivulet of their mixture seep down over her tingling rim.

Even after their peak, they kept grinding against each other through the aftermath, wringing every grain of pleasure from each other. They lay together with only the sound of their breathing between them. Their naked, sweaty flesh heaved together with the effort. Harte’s cock slowly relaxed, softening, and finally slipped out of her pussy.

She felt a raw warmth suffuse her body. Somewhere out in the ether, a voice that sounded like Harte’s was talking softly about things like love and regret. The last thing she remembered before losing consciousness was the touch of his lips and breath against the hollow at the base of her neck.