I Fell Into Pieces And She Fell Into Me

Time went on and the party went from a party to a small get together, to a couple’s make out session. Charlie and Matt had left about an hour ago, their excuses being something about how they wanted their own bed and not the floor and couch. And don’t even get me started on the couch. The two of them had fought about a half an hour, full on floor wrestling, for the damn thing. Only to change their mind and decide to go home after both of their shirts had been ripped and their hair drenched and matted with sweat.

Kinda looked like they had just had a bout of wild, kinky sex.

Giggling loudly I covered my mouth, rising to my feet as I gripped the side of the counter, my eyesight wavering as I teeter tottered back and forth. Well, you could tell how drunk I was now. And I had only had two beers. I really needed to build my tolerance up, considering I’d probably be spending more time around these fool’s again.

Ha! Now I was really drunk!

“Nita!” I complained, holding onto the counter with one hand and using the free one to tap her shoulder consistently, each tap building up strength until they reached full on slaps, her shrill, aggravated voice ghosting across the apartment.

“What!?” She glared up at me, pushing her moistened hair out of her face as Jay continued to trail kisses down her neck, a low, lustful grunt sounding out through his lips as he ground his hips up into hers, pressing their sexes together heatedly. “Oh, shit baby.” She bit her bottom lip, her eyes fluttering closed in pleasure.

“No, me!” I yelled, cupping her face as I yanked it towards mine, staring into her eyes and giggling loudly as I squished her cheeks together, an amused, drunk smile paying across my full face. “Sooo cute babe. Where me sleepin?”

“Go push Dillon over and climb in there,” she shook her head, turning back around and smashing her lips into Jay’s, her fingers tracing drunken, broken heart designs into the skin on his neck.

Oh, well, fuck you, too. That’s a great answer! Really!

Huffing loudly, I turned around, making my way down the hall, holding onto the wall so I didn’t stumble and trip over anything. There were always loose articles of clothing or some shit on the floor, and normally it was enough of a decoy to be a hazard. But right now, in the state I was in, it was like a fucking death trap with a big candy cane hanging from it, just screaming “Come on in!”.

At least, that’s what it looked like to me. The alcohol might have been providing the stripped Christmas candy image.

I tried to rationalize with myself as I stood in front of his bedroom door. I couldn’t go into Jay and Nita’s room, I’d probably be shoved out in a good ten minutes or less, and I couldn’t have the couch because they were occupying that this instant, so I had nowhere else to go but Dillon’s. And, I was tired. I think he could deal with letting me crash on his bed, and if he couldn’t, well then, we could wrestle on the floor like Matt and Charlie had if we really had to. Maybe even add a little chocolate syrup to it.

Damn, a brownie sounds really good right about now.

Pushing on the wooden door in front of me I watched as it opened slowly, the light from the top of the curtain shimmering through the crack of the open door as I scurried in, sliding it shut once again. It was pitch black and very quiet, maybe even a little too quiet. I wasn’t quite comprehending things right and the darkness was driving my eyes into a twitch fest. Stepping forward slowly I tried to make my way towards where I remembered the bed to be last, hoping, no praying, that it was still in the same place.

I tripped over something hard and thick, my body toppling forward as I screeched quietly, mentally preparing myself for the hard impact of the crash. But thank God Dillon never changed, because my head smashed into the soft mattress of the bed, my body awkwardly falling into place behind it. Breathing in heavily I listened for any movement, feeling Dillon’s warm, shallow breathing body stir from beside my head, curly strands of hair resting over his bare leg.

When he didn’t move for over a minute I did, slowly twisting my torso around and crawling up the comfortable mattress, my fingers grazing over the lush, fluffy bedding as I laid beside his still body. My head hit the pillow, my eyes fighting to stay open as I stared up at him. I slowly adjusted to the light situation, my eye sight following the length of his silhouette as I filled the black spots of his body out with my memory.

I missed lying beside him, missed the feel of his body against mine; next to mine. He didn’t even have to touch me, just being there was enough. I could feel his warmth; his breath cascading against my lower mouth every two seconds or so as he breathed in and out, his usual heavy breathes shallow and sleep ridden.

God, I still loved him.

I hated to admit it, I really did. I was trying so hard to get rid of him, to keep him out of my head. But I just couldn’t. I would push everyone away; drive everything south. But he was still there. I put that stupid face on, pretended I didn’t care, and act like a snotty, rude bitch just because I’d rather make people suffer like he had made me then show them how vulnerable and weak I really was. I’d rather hide my true feelings then let them out of their broken, insecure cage.

And it didn’t do a damn thing. I still loved him and it still hurt to look at him. I loved being next to him, but it hurt.

He wasn’t mine anymore, and he didn’t want me. Rejection hurt.

And that was the last thing that went through my mind as I slowly lost consciousness, the comfort of the bed, his body, and his warmth lulling my body into a deep, coma like sleep.
I’m sure the alcohol helped a bit too.

Just a tad.

I woke up, probably hours later, a heavy weight pressed into my backside as my face crammed into the body of the mattress. And it pissed me the fuck off too, because I was having one of the best dreams ever recorded in history. I was on the verge of being a nymph, so my dreams were kinky and smut filled, there was just no denying it. But this by far surpassed every dream I had ever had before. It felt so fucking real; every touch sliding up the length of my body, every plunge driving me closer to a foggy orgasm.

My God, who the fuck made that dream stop? I’m gonna kill em!

“Arg, fuck you bitch. Let me go; I needa breath!” I ground out, half asleep, my words jumbled and slurred from the fluff of the pillows and the decreasing effects of alcohol. Rapid, deep breathing ghosted over my uncovered neck, shivers riding up my spine as I slowly realized just what was going on.

Or better yet, who the fuck was on me.

“Dillon, get off.” I mumbled tiredly, lifting my head up, my eyes blinking repeatedly as they tried to adjust to the lighting. I fisted my hands, trying to push my body up and out from under his, only to be shoved back down into the mattress roughly, his large, calloused hand gripping the side of my hip as his hips arched against my own. And in that moment, I truly found out exactly what was happening.

And how that dream, really wasn’t a dream.

I felt his length slide in deeper, his hand gripping the side of my ass as he drove himself in harder. He planted his lips on my right ear, trailing small, miniscule kisses up the shell of my ear as low grunts echoed themselves in my eardrum, penetrating almost as deeply as he himself was imbedded in my sopping wet cunt.

“Dil-Dillon,” I gasped out softly, reaching my arm back to grab his, my hand wrapping itself around his upper wrist lightly. I wanted to end this, to make him stop; to shove him off me with some type of superhuman, super strength.

But I didn’t want to, too.

I wanted him to go deeper; to keep pounding away at me until I came. My dream was amazing and lifelike, and now I knew why. And I didn’t want it to end this quickly. I missed him, I wouldn’t deny that, and I still loved him, though my mind was screaming for me to stop, I wanted to scream for another reason.

I wanted to scream his name as I creamed all around him, my mind short circuiting for that split second of eternal bliss as my mind shattered and fell apart. Good God, I wanted that more than anything. Dammit, fuck my stupid feelings. Fuck my mind. I didn’t care anymore.
“Fuck,” I moaned loudly, gripping his wrist as he shoved himself in harder, his teeth biting down on the shell of my ear as he rocked his hips against my backside. “Oh, God.”

“Moan my name, baby.” He grumbled lowly, his grip tightening around my waist as he plunged in deeper, his hard tip brushing against my ending in a rough, but loving embrace.
He called me baby. Either it was just an impulsive response, true feelings on how I was still ‘his’ baby, or he just remembered how that word made me putty in his hands. I never understand why, but anyone called me that, especially of the male species, and I was like a damn melted pool of butter at their feet. I couldn’t help it; it was some internal thing.
Some wacked out internal thing, but it felt good either way.

“Dillon!” Crying out, I arched my hips back against his, feeling him sink in deeper as his movements sped up and intensified. Gripping my hips tightly, he repeatedly humped against my backside, low groans escaping from between his lips. He was nearing his release; I could feel his length throbbing inside of me, his movements and timing becoming irregular and sloppy. I was approaching that cliff too, my mind in a blur as my body started to shake and shudder. My hand wrapped around his wrist tightly, short, stubby fingernails digging into the soft, sweaty skin as I neared my peak.

I was so close; so close to jumping off that edge. For me, cumming was like cliff diving, though that was a stupid analogy because I had never actually cliff dived. But it’s what I imagine it would feel like. You had to take evasive action to get to the point, climb the mountain, or fly up in the airplane. You had to sit there and watch as the sky descended below your feet, leaving you high above the atmosphere as you steadily continued upward, your mind slowly filling with conflicting thoughts.

When you finally reached that final destination, you started to shake, fear and anxiety filling you to the brim with fright, your stomach rolling in nauseous loops as your gut tightened up, that feeling of dread consuming you entirely. And then, things just went nuts. You exploded, your body falling downward as the ground rapidly approached. You’re mind wasn’t even a mind anymore, just a glop of fresh soot for someone to stomp on; a squishy liquid crashing around in your cranium like the waves of an ocean. Your body twisted and bent, nerve endings snapping and colliding as limbs flew, completely out of control. And then, all of a sudden, it was over. You slowly relaxed, free falling towards the ground as you landed on your stomach lightly, feeling like you were on a bed of clouds. Your eyesight slowly came back, your mind rebuilding itself as you panted your lungs out, sharp, uneven breathes making your chest rise and fall with the ending internal conflict.

I panted quietly, my head buried in the soft pillow as Dillon released himself inside my clenching canal, his fingers digging into the side of my hip as he collapsed forward in exhaustion. Our bodies pressed together, heavy breathing mingling together as we rode out our pre-existing orgasms.

His body over mine only made me hotter, my internal body temperature rising by the second, but I didn’t want him to move. If he moved, it would be over. That safe, comforting feeling you get after you’ve connected on a strong level like that; it’d be ended abruptly. Breached suddenly by my inconclusive, meaningless actions; actions that I’d regret later on, right after in fact.

“Dill,” gasping softly I arched off the bed, the right corner of my bottom lip sucked into my mouth as I bit down on, the slight pain slowly awakening my nerves again.

“Mm,” he grumbled lowly against my ear, slipping his hand under my waist as he left it there, his large, calloused, bare hand pressing into my concaving stomach. “Damn baby.”

It felt so good, but it was so wrong. I knew it was wrong. I had done this before; had met him at a party, given myself to him, and it all ended badly. I should have learned by now that you can’t just do that. Your heart is connected to your nether regions and the more times you handed it out, the larger the crack in the red, pumping organ got.

The first time we met, it had gone south for the better; entirely too south for only knowing the guy for two hours, but I put that on the back burning as a small live and learn detail.

And here I was, making the same fucking mistake again. With the same fucking guy!
Why did I do this to myself? I knew he would hurt me again; knew he didn’t care about me. He had made that pretty damn clear. And here I was, not only letting, but embracing him as he repeated his actions; as he used me. I was a pawn, a simple pussy for whenever he couldn’t get anything better. And it hurt; it hurt so badly.

But I was letting him do it.

It was my fucking fault.

Before he could say anything else I flipped his body off mine, rolling from within the sheets of the bed and onto the floor. My feet planted themselves on the hard, cold wood floor, shivers riding up my spine as I searched around the room for missing articles of clothing. It was stupid, trying to find anything in his pigsty, especially when it was blacker then the fucking midnight sky. Picking up a shirt from off the floor I didn’t even bother sniffing it, just threw it over my head as I searched for a pair of shorts, or jeans, whatever I could find.

Finally, after a good three or four minutes of searching my fingers grazed over soft, nylon basketball shorts, and I pulled those up my legs too.

“Where are you going?” He asked, the bed creaking as he sat up, his head cocking from side to side as he tried to zoom in on my moving body.

“Away,” stumbling backwards I kept moving until I hit something, luckily, it was the wall and not a piece of furniture. I was only about 5’1, and for some reason that was the right height where you’re hip would connect with the corners of everything. And let me tell you, that hurt like a damn bitch.

“So you’re just going to leave? After that you’re gonna just leave me?” His voice was filled with a dull, questioning tone as he flicked the light on the lamp from the nightstand on, his eyes glued to mine.

“Yeah,” I stood there awkwardly, willing myself to just leave like he said, but it was so hard. I knew I had to, but it was hard trying to convince myself to want to.

“Fine. Fuck you. Just fucking leave, see if I care. It’s all you ever did anyway.” He spat the words, his eyes flaring with anger as he clutched the blanket under his fist tightly.

“It’s all I ever did? Get your facts straight, Alvarez. It’s all you ever did. You went on tour; you left me to go party. And then, to top of it all off, you left me to go home and fuck some whore.” Rolling my eyes I searched the floor for my bra and panties, quickly finding the bright, neon pink matching lace set. “Yeah, it sounds like I was the one that left all the time; really sounds like it. Have a nice time fucking all your ho’s Dillon, because I won’t be one of them. You fucked me over once; I won’t let you do it again.”

I took one last look at him, at his defined face, high cheekbones, perfectly sculpted nose and supple, kissable tan lips. And then, I turned around and left. I followed the hallway to the main room, through the kitchen, back tracking as I grabbed my car keys off the counter, to the front door and down the stairs until I found myself outside, the cool night air nipping at my barely covered body. Popping open the car I threw my under things into the back seat, sliding into the driver’s seat as I turned the car on and pulled out of the curb parking spot.

I was down the road and at the intersection of West Vernon Ave and South Grand Avenue before I even knew it, my mind in a haze as I waited at the red light. I was trying so hard to keep the tears from falling; to keep from breaking down and losing everything.

I had tried so hard to build up this wall; to shield myself so I would never be hurt like that again. And here I was, leaving the crime scene of yet another ruined, complicated mess. I let him do it again; I gave in and let him take me. And it left me in the cold; again. Just like the last time, I was left alone, tired, hurt, mad, depressed, angry, and fed up.

But I wouldn’t let that show. For now, I’d be empty inside and void of emotion. It was so much easier that way; it didn’t hurt as much when you masked the pain.

Sitting at the red light, I would head straight and it would lead me home. But in this case, no matter how cheesy it sounded, home wasn’t where my heart was. My heart was back there, some 500 yards away, tucked up in a messy, unmade bed where we had just done the dirty, his head resting against his favorite Batman sheet covered pillow.

I had given my heart to him the first time we met; the first time we slept together. And when we broke up, I had tried to get it back. It took me three months, but I thought I was actually starting to have my whole back again. But now, it wasn’t happening. He took it again and there was nothing I could do about it.

I had let him take it.

And it would take me even longer to get it back this time around.