Baron croons my name like a death-omen owl, like destiny, fate. If I go, he’ll talk sweet, hands roaming – neck, elbow, hip, thigh – the cycle of lust and damnation. My heart pounds, and I know it’s in time with his.
“Go away,” I pray.
Not gonna happen, sugar. He’s inside my head, in heated blood swirling low, insistent.
Already did, then did again. You mine.
Denial bursts loud from my lips.
Momma looks up. “No what, honey?”
“Nothing. I’m confused.”
“A walk might help. Go on now.”
I close the door behind me and step out into forever.