Dear Z,

Chapter 7

Dear Z,
Hopelessly have you gone with things carried heavy in your heart.
Will you stop blaming yourself for everything? Will you stop putting yourself down?
Because you aren't just hurting yourself, you are also hurting me...

• • •

Zaid

How did we get here? I was one minute ago, throwing it down with that asshole who broke my sister's heart and next minute, Rose has surrounded me.

I didn't know when I sat down; when her lotion smelling fingers that had the oud aroma dabbed on my cut lip, not to say but she did put pressure on more than unnecessary; her legs that were long as the days on summer solstice bordered me and I swear every time she digs into my muscles with her fingers, her breath whispers over my neck.

My insides tickle and my toes nudge left and right. I feel the pit in my stomach drop every time she leans forward and I feel her tits just brush by my back or maybe trace my spine with those nails. I swallow, hard. The saliva quenching my sudden parched throat. It was comforting. Only for a second.

The beer can on my swollen cheek was getting warm. My hand was an icicle from holding it. I place the can down on the carpet below me. I needed my hands free.

I clench and unclench them, waking up my nerves. With her unstoppable unknotting and grilling my back, I feel my eyelids droop and unconsciously, I drift back till my spine hit the edge of my bed. Only then do I register my mistake.

Heavy on my shoulders, her sweet breath murmured against my ear. It reminded me of the time I stood on the aircraft pad on a hot summer day and this wind out of nowhere flew to me. It was cool and tasted like how fresh air would.

I could feel her lips touching the shell of it. The curvy sensitive skin of mine tore straight through me reaching to my groin.

This is a dream. This is a dream. This is not a dream. I wake a little. Only a little.

"Do you feel better now?" Her fingers working those tight knots under my t-shirt down, close to my neck.

Her hands soothing the texture of my skin, molding the muscles, rolling and kneading and I couldn't help but let out another strained sigh.

"You like this." Her whisper was more of a question than a statement. I didn't know it but I was dying to do something. Itching to do something.

But I couldn't. I drop my hands down onto the carpet, my fingers digging in. To keep me steady. To keep me unwavering. To stop me from reaching for her.

Then, I felt her slide her tits across my back.
My fingernails scraped the carpet under me.

"Rose..." I warned her. For what I didn't know. Or maybe I didn't want to know. Something was unfurling inside me. Her breasts were achy and plump against my back. I felt the weight of them and I...I press back.

The scratch against the carpet amplified and it echoed in the silence of the room. Her soundless pants were right there, warm in my ear.

I widen my eyes. This is wrong. She was wrong.

I immediately tried to remove my back from her magical fingers. Creating a space which was suddenly needed. But Rose drew me back with those mad nails of hers pinning into my flesh. I hiss at the contact.

"Don't you move, Z."

Her breasts are pushed right against the back of my head and I feel all her curves. Every curvy angle of her waist to her hip. Then like a snake, she slithers both her legs onto my shoulders. Hooking onto them.