Dear Rockstar

Fuck me,” I whispered, giving him permission, taking him into my flesh, a soft invitation to madness.

Like a butterfly stuck in a chrysalis, waiting for the perfect moment, I was waiting for the day I could burst forth and fly away and find my home.

My panties were still on but he didn’t let that stop him, nosing them out of the way and tonguing my sex, making low, growling noises in his throat like a big cat purring with pleasure while it devoured its prey.

We were a galaxy exploding into a million pieces, creating a whole new world, as we crashed against each other on the soft surface of his mattress, a cloud in the darkness, our bodies finally falling together like rain.

I know you. Inside and out, Sara. I know you, and I’ve accepted it all. Every bit of the crazy. And I love you anyway remember?

I looked at him like a stranger, someone I’d never seen before, and he looked at me like I’d been lost to him for a thousand years and finally found.

The best things in life are crazy.

Every bride is beautiful. It’s like newborn babies or puppies. They can’t help it.

My knees were weak but he held me with one hand, guiding me with the motion of his hips. I was completely his to do with what he wanted and he knew it.

I don't want you to be my fan. I want you to be mine.

Sometimes there’s no cure for the crazy.” Dale sighed, stroking my hair. “I think we all just have to keep loving through it. Maybe that’s the cure.

He lifted his head, the sight of his dark, disheveled hair, eyes glinting with longing in the lamp light, the gorgeous spread of his shoulders, tapering down to the narrow thrust of his hips, made my ovaries ache deep in my belly.

We fell into each other’s arms and kissed like we were coming up for air after being underwater for days. The melding of our mouths was sweeter than oxygen. We took huge, deep gulps of each other as we struggled with worldly constraints like clothing and gravity, seeking to transcend it all in our coming together.

You think he’s perfect and he’s safe and, in your head, he can do anything... but he can’t save you, Sara... and I can’t save you either.

Every day for a week, sitting in my idling car, saying goodbye without saying anything at all—the touch of his hand, his forehead pressed to mine, the way he brushed my hair out of my face, tucking it behind my ear. And still, he hadn’t kissed me. Not once. Nothing but that brief brush of his lips. I was beginning to go a little crazy.

If life had taught me anything so far, it was that I was responsible for my own fate.

But I was done trying to wake her up, to make her see. To save her. The only person I could save was myself.

You're mine. I knew it the first time I saw you. I will always come for you, Sara. Always.

Instead of kissing me, he nuzzled my ear with his nose and I felt more than heard him take a long, deep breath. "God, you smell so good, Sara. You make me want to eat you all up." Oh God. I wanted to be eaten all up.

There weren't butterflies in my stomach, there were fire breathing dragons.

The look on his face wasn't just a dark storm, it was the full force of a tornado or a tsunami.

He recovered quickly, reaching out to touch a few outstretched hands, melting the front row of girls like one long stick of butter as he moved closer toward me.

Our eyes met and locked as the song came to a halt, followed by a screaming conclusion from the crowd, girls around us pressing me into the stage, forcing all the air out of my lungs, but I’d forgotten about doing anything so basic as breathing.

He licked his lips, shaking his head again, and raised his eyes to mine. "Maybe you could put something else on? Like... I don't know... a robe or... a Burka... or something...

Greeeeeeeeeooooowwwwrrrrrrrrlllll. That one sounded more like a distraught cat—Garfield lamenting a missing lasagna perhaps. Lasagna! Now I was really hungry.