"You want to love me? Then don't want anything, don't need anything, don't desire anything."

I was screaming your name at five in the morning like you wanted. But I wish I'd had the guts to scream it in my bed.

I should have gotten out of the car. I should have opened your door, and asked you to follow me. We were forty paces away from a big mistake that I wanted more than anything. Right around the corner on the little path. My apartment is the second unit in. Unlock the door. Four steps to the right and you would have been in my bedroom.

The bottle out of your hand, the tobacco out of your mouth. My mouth on yours, my hand on your neck, unbuttoning your shirt, on your stomach, your nipples. My tongue on your bare chest. My hand on your cock as you protested one last time. I would have just stripped my jacket off. Looked at you. Slid my shirt over my head and my skirt down until I was just standing there for you. Unhooked my bra and laid back on the bed and taken your hands in mine and felt your mouth move to my tits and that crazy shooting spark from your teeth and fingers as you got what you wanted. Your mouth between my legs and then your cock slamming into me. We would have tangled up so fast in my sheets. I can't imagine how fast you would have been into me if we were in my room. New bed. New sheets. Like busting a cherry. My window was open, but it was five in the morning.

So hot, you raise women's flesh just being around them. They all want the walk to the car, the flirt, the ipod share. So charismatic, so considerate, so sweet. So nice. They giggle and fawn and bat their eyes. But I can stand it.

How many girls have you hurt like me, baby? How many girls have let you leave marks and then joke about it in public? How many girls like to see stars when they get their tits sucked? How many girls want to be double finger fucked as if they were a six pack of beer at five oclock on a Sunday morning?

I can't imagine, no, I can, unzipping your shorts so you could fuck me. You were so hard, so big and rock hard. You were so turned on while I was stroking it in the car, while you were sucking on my nipples and fucking my pussy and ass with your fingers. I was riding your fingers and screaming your name and I wouldn't say it. I wouldn't say fuck me. Just fuck me. Forty paces, thirty seconds from that hard cock driving into my pussy and your violence all over the rest of me. Your demanding mouth. Your fingers. The marks on my arm. People don't know how good it felt when you left them on me, how wet my pussy got from your hand pushing into me, how high I got. People think somebody hurt me. They don't get how bad I wanted it. They can't.

You probably think you've already heard the kind of noise I can make. When I was saying your name and that other word again and again there was one word I was leaving out, because I was actually afraid you would just fuck me right in my car. I wanted you to. But my bed was forty feet away. And it was five in the morning.

If I tell you to fuck me, and we're alone, you will. You would have. You would have.

Did I get it?

Screaming your name. A name I have no claim to, Tiger. Again and again for months and months as I come and come and you come and go.


Ok, Tiger. I don't want you. I don't need you. I don't desire you.

Now come get me.