I checked into the hotel late, purposely trying to avoid Jess. I wanted to have a decent night of sleep before facing her and everyone else tomorrow. As I got settled into my room, I went over what I would say: I'm sorry for fucking you. It was a mistake and I don't want to see you. Buuuttt I still care enough about you to make sure you're okay. None of that would go over well with her. She'd either punch me in the face or start crying. I wasn't sure which I preferred.

Just as I was beginning to let my guard down, there was a soft, dainty knock on my door. It could have been anybody, but only one name came to mind. Jessica. I stood in front of the door, careful not to make any sounds. I knew that if I answered that door, it was going to be a bloodbath. But I figured since she was here now, we might as well get it over with. At least then I wouldn't have to worry about it for the rest of the weekend. I'd never forgive myself if I ruined Jeff's wedding over her.

"What do you want?" I asked lazily, unable to look her in the eye.

"Look at me when when you talk." She spoke like a cop; commanding, stern. It was the only reason I obeyed her instead of slamming the door in her face.

My tired eyes came alive upon surveying her body. She wore a cropped beige sweater and black jeans. It was nothing overtly sexual. But she made up for it with her full red lips and smoldering eyes. I instantly pictured her looking up at me while she sucked my dick. My heart sank at those dirty thoughts. I should have never answered the door.

"It's late, Jess. Say what you have to say so I can go to bed."

"Can I come in?"

I hesitated, "I don't think that's a good idea."

"You owe me."

After two weeks of ignoring her calls, I guess I did owe her. I let her in, and she put an extra swing in her hips as she walked, probably knowing that I was looking. She stopped at the window, staring out at the now-darkened lake. I wish I could read her mind so I could figure out what makes her tick. She used to be so candid and forthcoming - now, she was deceitful and manipulative. She sat down on the window seat, finally ready to talk. I sat across from her on the bed, sufficiently out of her reach.

"I should kick your ass for being so stupid," she seethed. "You could have gotten hurt."

"But I didn't. And I made sure you were okay. It's done."

"Why haven't you called or texted me?"

"Because I had nothing to say."

Her face dropped and her tone hardened. "So that's it? We're just gonna pretend like nothing happened?"

I shook my head, "You and I both know that that night was a mistake."

"Maybe for you," she snapped back.

I shook my head, "That's my point. I regret it and it's not going to happen again." I knew I'd hit a nerve when she could no longer look me in the eye. "I'm never going to feel the way you do," I declared.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I know you want something more. You always have."

She rose her voice, "That's not fair-"

"You know what isn't fair?! You forcing yourself on me and then playing the victim when I reject you!" I hadn't meant to yell, but it angered me to no end how she presented herself as a victim. Everything that happened to her was of her own doing.

She softened her features, her posture, and her voice. "I'm sorry," she mumbled. She did the same thing back at my loft: she made herself appear vulnerable but it was just a ploy to get me in bed. I wasn't going to fall for it again.

"I don't need your sorrys, Jess. I need you to understand."

Once she realized that the soft act wasn't working, she reverted back to being cold.

"Understand what? That I'm not good enough for you because-"

"Don't you fuckin' dare," I warned. That was always her go-to when she was losing: blame me for being racist.

"If I were white, you'd worship the ground I walk on," she growled.

"If you were white, I still wouldn't give you the time of day."

Jess instantly lost her cool, leaping to her feet and wagging her finger in my face. "Bullshit! You were all up in the kitty, couldn't even last 2 minutes before you came inside me!"

I stood up to remind her that I was bigger than her. "Well, I hope you enjoyed it because that's all you're ever gonna get!"

"Fuck you!"

"We already played that game - you lost." I could see the vengeance pulsing through her veins. If she had a gun, I'd be dead. She swung her arm, open palmed and aimed at my face. But I caught her hand and squeezed it, "NO! I'm tired of your bullshit, Jess! Just get the fuck out." She ripped her arm from my grasp, but refused to leave. She started to say something back, but I was done listening to her. "LEAVE!"

She sneered, her eyes burning with the hate her fists wanted to act on. I thought she'd try to hit me again, but instead, she stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind her. I peaked my head out into the hall to make sure she was gone for good. I sighed in relief and stepped back into my room. But it didn't last. My hands balled into hard fists and I stomped across the room, desperate to hit something, anything. But if I wanted to avoid a hefty bill for damages, I needed to calm down and fast.

I threw on a hoodie and some sneakers. I left my phone and wallet behind - didn't want any distractions. I stormed out of the hotel and wound up at the lakefront and walked and walked until I wasn't even sure where I was.

I wish I'd never come around them. I was perfectly content with my life. Sure, maybe I was a bit lonely but that's nothing a tinder date couldn't solve. I just had to look them up, knowing Jess was still around. I guess I had hoped that she'd be over me - because I sure as hell wasn't over her. No one made me feel the way she did - I simultaneously wanted to make love to her AND choke the life from her. She would be all my answers to Fuck, Marry, Kill. But it wasn't healthy and it wasn't right. We were volatile together; had too much history, too much baggage. I don't know why she couldn't see that.

When we were eighteen, it was innocent. We were just two horny kids trying to do the right thing. Now, we were broken adults who knew better and still made all the wrong decisions. I should have never slept with her. God, what was I thinking?! It's like giving a drug addict one more hit - it's never just one and it always spirals out of control. And boy had she spiraled. She presented herself as a hole and was somehow convinced that that was the way to my heart. So not only was she a shameless whore, she was also delusional. I sighed. Maybe I should cut ties now. Jeff would undoubtedly be hurt, but he was part of the problem. He and Chris were protecting her. And it hurt because they were my friends first. They should be on my side. Jess was the outsider, not me.


I woke up the next morning feeling hungover, despite the fact that I'd had nothing to drink. I rolled over in bed and buried my face into the pillow. I don't even remember getting back to my room last night - just crying myself to sleep. "I don't have anything to say to you...that night was a mistake...I'm never going to feel the way you do..." His cold, harsh words were like knives, carving themselves into my head so I couldn't forget. Maybe that night was just a drunken fuck, but it still meant something. Neither of us were strangers and we had connected on the most basic, primal level. I had given him the most intimate part of myself, only to have him turn around and say it shouldn't have happened. All because of his racial hangups and self-loathing. In the end, I debased myself for nothing. It hurt more than he would ever know.

I couldn't bear to face him. I thought seriously about booking a flight back to LA and begging my captain for a 12-hr shift. If I was going to be around a bunch of racist assholes, I may as well be getting paid for it.

There was a nervous knock at my door. I stupidly held out hope that it was him coming to apologize. And I just knew my dumbass would forgive him.

It was Chris. His eyes surveyed the room behind me. He was probably wondering if I had a guy in here. He was wondering if that guy was Derek.

"Um, can I help you?"

He eased up a bit. "I was just looking for Derek. He won't answer his phone and he's not in his room."

"Well, he's not in here," I said bitterly.

Chris and I didn't say a lot to each other as we searched the hotel and lakefront. He knew I was keeping something from him. It's not as if me telling him about last night would magically locate Derek.

"Well, he's not on the hotel property." He side-eyed me. "Do you think maybe he left?"

I rolled my eyes and snapped at him, "I don't know, Chris. But honestly after all this, I hope that motherfucker did leave."

And with that, I'd confirmed all his suspicions. "Tell me what happened, Jess."


"He's never going to change, you know."

He was 100% right about that, but I didn't respond.

I let out an angry, exhausted sigh. As I turned back to the hotel, I heard an eye-rolling girlish giggle mixed with a familiar, albeit restrained, voice. Chris and I turned around to see the flirty couple coming down from the more experienced hiking trail. Derek, dressed only in khaki shorts and a t-shirt, was ill-prepared. His companion was a 40-something blonde, fit and equipped. He carried her backpack for her as they strolled towards us. His carefree smile disappeared when he saw us. And the light in his eyes left when he saw me.

"We were looking for you all morning," Chris said sternly.

"I needed to let off some steam; got lost and this lovely woman rescued me."

"Could have left a note or something. We thought maybe you'd split."

"Sorry. Left my phone back in the room. Thought I'd be back before breakfast."

The son of a bitch wouldn't even acknowledge me. I started trembling and gritting my teeth. I had been looking for the motherfucker all morning and he wouldn't even look at me.

I grunted, making no attempt to conceal my anger and frustration. "This is bullshit," I said, storming off back to the hotel.

I could hear Derek in the background, "And you wonder why I decided to get lost in the woods."

Chris caught up with me. "Jess, you've got to stop doing this."

I knew he meant well, but if he insisted on following me, he was going to be my punching bag.

"He disappears and yet I'm the one who gets blamed? I spent all fucking morning looking for him and he won't he even look at me! Fuck him and fuck you for taking his side!"

"For fuck sake Jess, stop with all the drama! He's never going to love you so you need to move the hell on!"

Tears welled up in my eyes. I thought last night was humiliating but it was nothing compared to right now. Derek was fast approaching us, probably having heard everything. Even from afar, I could see the smug look on his face. I turned heel and ran, desperately trying to wipe away my tears.


"…move the hell on!"

Jess fumed at the revelation that her pathetic obsession with me was obvious to everyone. I thought she'd take a swing at Chris, and probably would have if it had been me standing there. Instead, she burst into tears and scampered off once she saw me coming their way.

"Somebody had to tell her," I said, patting Chris on the back.

But Chris was decidedly not on my side, either. He shrugged away from me, glaring at me accusingly.

"What the hell happened? Why is she so crazy, huh?"

"How the hell should I know?"

He shoved me, "You slept with her didn't you?" I didn't retaliate, nor did I answer him. But I didn't have to because my silence spoke for me. "You stupid asshole."

I don't know the exact reason why he struck me; could have been out of jealousy, or maybe he was just sick and tired of us both. Either way, I deserved it. I stood there with my hands on my knees, spitting out blood. When he realized I wasn't going to fight back, he turned and ran after Jess.

I went back to my room and iced my cheek. I paced around the room, trying to calm myself down. I spent all night trying to clear my head and had actually been in a good mood this morning. But as usual, Jess fucked it all up. My arms were shaking with pent up rage, begging me to hit something. This had gone on long enough. Part of me still saw her as the new girl at school, the one who wanted to be my friend despite my beliefs. But she wasn't that girl anymore - maybe she never was. I saw her for what she really was: a spic whore who made me feel like a hypocrite. I needed her to know that I hated her, that I've always hated her and I wanted her out of my life for good. And if she couldn't accept that, she was going to wind up hurt - and not just her feelings.


I sobbed silently on my way back to my room. By the time I got back, I was a sweaty, exhausted mess. I sought refuge in the shower, letting myself cry out every feeling I had or ever will have for that man. I guess he'd been right all these years: I was just a spic whore and I would never be anything else to him - not his wife, girlfriend or lover. The fantasy of him that I'd built up - a racist bad boy made vulnerable because he'd fallen in love with me, the chubby brown girl - was just that, a fantasy. All those times that we flirted, kissed and touched each other, cuddled in bed, and shared our dreams, it meant nothing. He didn't use me; I threw myself at him because I was stupid enough to believe that he loved me back.

I heard banging on the door - like a cop's knock. I guessed it was Chris or Jeff, only because Derek made it clear he never wanted to see me again. I threw on a towel and hurriedly opened the door, wondering what was so damn important. My heart sank when I realized it was Derek. I was defenseless, vulnerable, and naked. I quickly tried to close the door, but he forced his way in, causing my towel to unfurl. Frazzled, I shut the door and tried to re-cover myself. I was about to get humbled within an inch of my life.

"Oh what is this? Another one of your tricks to get me into bed?" he taunted.

"You wish, asshole," I spat, still fumbling with the towel.

I didn't have time to react when he grabbed my neck and slammed me against the door. I scratched at his arms, but he was undeterred. I focused on what small amount of oxygen I could breath in, knowing if he tightened his grip, I might die. I could only see his face, seething with hatred and frustration. "I never want to see you again. And if you come near me, I'll get a fucking restraining order." I frantically nodded my head. Satisfied, he let go. I leaned forward, coughing and drawing in deep breaths, massaging my neck. "Ugh, stop being dramatic," he scolded.

I looked up at him, my eyes watering at his cruelty. Finding the strength, I walloped him in the face, delivering a sharp, open palmed smack right to his cheek. "Motherfucker, don't you ever put your hands on me!"

He grabbed his reddened cheek, which had already been bruised. I guess I hadn't been the first person to deck him today. He looked down at his hand and saw blood. Sure enough, there was a small cut on his lip. No matter how satisfying that slap was, I shouldn't have done it. His body shook with hot, burning rage, eyes narrowed and fists clenched. I didn't think he would strike me, but I wasn't going to stick around to find out. I tried to make a run for it, but he pushed me back, boxing me in against the door. I was right back where I started. We eyed each other intensely, our chests heaving as we panted like dogs.

"I hate you," he seethed. He slammed his hand against the door, causing me to jump.

"Yeah? Well I fucking hate you, too!" Maybe I was just seeing what I wanted to see, but I thought I saw pain flash across his face. He hated me but still wanted me to love him. It made me angry all over again. After all he put me through, he doesn't get to be hurt. Furious, I tore myself away from him. Still, he just stood there with this pathetic, lost look on his face. "What are you waiting for? Leave. Get the fuck out."

"I'm sorry," he muttered, looking down at his feet. "I wasn't trying to hurt you, I just-I need you to understand."

I narrowed my eyes at him. The fucker tried to choke me and now he wants my understanding? Something ugly rose up inside of me. I charged at him, shoving him into the wall. "You weren't trying to hurt me?!" I wrapped my fingers around his throat. "All you've ever done is hurt me!"

"...then let me go," he whispered back softly.

I stepped back. If this was it, I was going to make sure he remembered me for the rest of his life. "Go. I don't give a shit. But I'm gonna make you scream my name."

"Wha-" I forcefully yanked his zipper down, never taking my eyes off him. He gulped, "Stop it. Be a lady and say goodbye." I reached down and grabbed a hold of his dick, feeling it grow in my hand. "Don't do this to yourself," he pleaded.

"Shut up," I said dryly.

I let my towel fall and dropped to my knees.

For all the shit he talked, he sure did love having his dick in my mouth. I was going to suck him so dry he'd never be satisfied by anyone else. He sank into the wall, desperately trying and failing to mute his moaning. I was so turned on and angry that I went into hoover mode. I sucked him with such force that his whole pelvis bounced against the wall. He started seething and balling his hands into fists. His moaning turned into desperate cries of need. I paused to kiss his balls so he wouldn't cum all over my face. His dick was purple and twitching up and down, petrified. I looked up and saw his reddened face, flushed with sweat. His blue eyes were icy and focused, like a predator going after its prey. He pushed me down onto the floor and dropped to his knees. I couldn't help but smirk.

"Wipe that fucking smirk off your face," he growled.

"Make me."

He shoved himself into me, raw and hard. He leaned down as he pumped, but wouldn't kiss me - just fiercely glared down at me. He really didn't want me to get off. He wielded his cock like a sword, in and out, in and out, using me as a hole. The only sounds were of his vicious thrusting and growling. As much as I savored watching him lose himself in my body, this was starting to hurt. I legitimately tried to make him feel good, yet he refused to return the favor. Either that or he didn't know how to fuck.

Frustrated and dried up, I sat up on my elbows and put a hand on his chest. He stopped stabbing me, allowing himself to catch his breath. "Baby, you're hurting me," I purred, not wanting to sound aggressive. I wanted him to keep going, but feared I might hurt his pride.

"Good," he murmured.

I wiped the sweat from his forehead and pushed his hair back. He closed his eyes, basking in my touch as a visible tremor rocked through his body. It was like watching butter melt. "Just…go slower," I whispered, placing a light kiss on his lips.

We moved from the floor to the bed, his big body hovering menacingly over mine. I stroked his cock to keep him under my spell, afraid he'd walk away if he lost it. He snatched my busy hands and entrapped them above my head, making me squirm. He glared down at me, "This isn't going to happen again."

I knew he meant it. I turned my head in a futile attempt to hide the small tears falling from the corners of my eyes. He knew, and he didn't care. He dragged his lips down my torso, plying apart my closed legs and finding my pussy dried up and sad. In my darkest fantasies, both alone and with other men, it was Derek who I pictured licking, sucking, kissing me. Reality was a bit different - while he could love my body, love what it could do for him - he didn't love me. He was never going to love me. He made it clear over and over again that he wanted nothing to do with me, aside from the occasional drunken blowjob. But in this moment, with my legs wrapped around head, I was the center of his universe. I was the only thing that mattered to him. That's what he meant by "this is never going to happen again" - for just one brief moment, he would try to love me.

I felt him kiss the inside of my thighs, teasing me. The tears fell freely, sliding down to the pillow. Undeterred, his mouth began to lather every fold. His tongue, otherwise cruel and hateful, lovingly curled around my clit. My tears dried, and I started to get lost in the feeling of his mouth making love to my pussy. A steady stream of wetness poured out, and he was determined to lap up every drop. My body broke out into a sweat, and I began rolling my fingertips over my nipples. I couldn't help but communicate my appreciation, "Your tongue feels so good…" Though I couldn't be sure, I thought I felt him smirk. Perhaps feeling cocky, he started to thrash my clit, vigorously flicking and basking it with his hot mouth and warm saliva. I ran my hands through his hair, causing us to lock eyes. His eyes were dark and intense, while mine were needy and desperate. I cried out, clutching the sheets as my hips rolled against his mouth. His tongue was relentless, better than any vibrator. I ground the back of my head into the bed, staring up at the ceiling. My eyes were rolling, and I swear I saw stars. I didn't care about anything anymore - he could break my heart as many times as he wanted. "Oh my god, Der….Der…" I clawed at the sheets and arched my back, crying out his name as I came all over his face.

We were so lost in our own lust that we dumped all pretense. He came up for air, and easily slid back into me. I hooked my arms over his shoulders and pulled him down. I savored the warmth of his big body, moaning softly into his ear as he muzzled and kissed my neck. I ran my fingers along his spine, finally stopping at his bubbly butt. I grabbed a handful and spurred in him on. He grunted, digging harder and faster into the depths of my womb. "Fuck, you feel so good…" he moaned.

He held up one of my legs, and the friction off himself rubbing against my clit intensified. "Oh god baby, you're gonna make me cum again. Don't stop, don't stop…" I cried as a second orgasm wrecked through my body. Ecstasy flooded my brain, causing my eyes to gloss over. God, if I had known it would be this good, I would have fucked him everyday in high school. I'd have gotten pregnant on purpose, too. I pictured myself cradling our baby boy in my arms. He had Derek's blue eyes and my wild, dark hair. But he faded from my mind just as quickly as I had conjured him up. The fucked up thing was that I didn't even want kids, yet Derek made me want want to be a mommy. It scared me how he had the power to make me feel that way.

"Fuck Jess, I'm gonna cum."

"Cum inside me," I whispered into his ear, pressing on his ass so he couldn't pull out.

Unable to hold it in any longer, he groaned out in pleasure as I felt his warm cum spurt inside of me. "Goddamn," he grunted, moaning each time his dick pulsated. But he didn't get soft - he was still hard somehow.

"Are you still...?" I asked tepidly.

He bit his lip, "I think so." We exchanged dirty smiles. As sensitive as he must have been, he had no choice but to keep going. He buried his head into my neck as he thrusted. Small whimpers of desperation escaped from his lips. "Jess...Oh, Jess...Fuck..." he whined, emptying another load into me. His body quivered and he struggled to catch his breath as my pussy milked the last of his cum. Finally soft, he rolled off of me and stared up at the ceiling. He had an angry, satisfied look about him. I could only imagine what was going through his mind; he'd never tell me. I had to be content to just lie here next to him. Eventually, he did glance at me, not surprised to find me looking up at him. He smiled bashfully, to which I placed a kiss on his bicep and pawed at his chest. He placed his hand over mine, rubbing his thumbs in circles. "You kill me," he said dryly, before smirking.

"I'm sorry," I said sweetly.

"You aren't sorry, and neither am I."

"Take it all
Bring it back to my bed
Nothing needs to be said
Take it all
I'll use the space it frees up in my head
For thoughts of you to spread..."

Helena Deland - Take It All