I, Cassandra

19 | AMADI EZENWA

'Amadi,' she whispers, glancing, involuntary, down the corridor towards my bedroom, where it hulks, dark and silent, laden with weight of countless lonely nights spent relieving myself thinking of her. She takes a deep sip of her wine and her eyes meet mine. 'I want—' she blinks back tears, her need so raw, so painful to witness I feel the nascent itch of tears in my eyes, too.

'So do I,' I whisper, unwilling to let her finish. I move around the island. She turns in her seat to face me and entwines her fingers with mine. We cling to each other, our desperate hand clasp more erotic than any of my filthiest fantasies.

'You know we can't.' I tilt my head towards the washroom. 'The sensors will pick up my DNA on you the next time you shower. We would be marked as ineligible, and banned from ever meeting again.' I lift her hand and press my lips against her fingertips. She shudders. Defeat slides over her perfect, even features.

'It's not enough,' she says, low. 'What we do. I want you inside me. I need you inside me. The waiting, the never knowing, it's killing me. Maybe we will never be allowed to be together. Maybe this is all we will ever have. Tonight. A whole night, alone.'

I pull her against me, my heart aching. I want her so bad I can hardly think straight. How many times have I dreamed of her, her legs wrapped around my hips, our bodies moving together in time? 'Shh,' I say, though I am struggling to resist, to not tear her silk blouse open and caress her breasts; to taste the ripe, hard nipples breaching the thin material, 'let's go to the shower. You can go first.' She makes a muffled sound of despair.

'It's better than nothing,' I persist, dogged. I reach for the bottle of wine. 'We can share a glass together.' I feel her fingers working at the buttons of my fly, deft, determined. I will myself to stop her.

'No,' she says. 'No more solitary showers watching each other climax, separated by a wall of glass. I want your skin on mine, you buried in me, as deep as you can go.' She is panting now, I can feel her fingers brushing against the material of my boxers, my fly wide open. I grab her wrist and hold her still.

'Adiana,' I snap, harsher than I intend, but I'm erect and aching for her, every scrap of my will fleeing, betraying me. 'I love you too much to lose you. I won't make love to you tonight, though more than anything I want to.' I pull back, guilt shearing through me at her anguished expression, at my blunt rejection of her. I grab the wine and a glass, pull her from the stool and lead her down the corridor to the washroom, steeling myself against her low sobs. The lights flicker on, soft. I go to the shower and turn on the water, setting it to the hottest setting, just how she likes it. I pour more wine and hand her the glass.

'Drink, my love,' I say as she takes the glass and drinks, deep, finishing its contents. 'This time I will not wait to use the shower after you. Tonight we will come together. You in there and me out here, and to hell with the risks. I'll just clean everything before you get out.'

She smiles, tremulous, and begins to undress. I watch, hard as a rock as she slips her smooth, toned body free of her cream blouse and pencil skirt. She isn't wearing any knickers. I gaze at her, worshipful, my hands clenching into fists. I force myself to hold back, to not touch her. It's agony.

'Get in the shower,' I say, low, my body aching with need. She obeys, and slips behind the glass. I pull my shirt and trousers off, and peel away my boxers and socks, dimly aware the floor's tiles are cold against my bare feet. She is already touching herself, her need savage, primal. She isn't even putting on her usual show for me, but it doesn't matter, it is the hottest thing she has ever done, her hunger boring into me, contagious. I watch her, her body glistening under the shower's steady cascade, a goddess. She holds my eyes as she manipulates herself, panting, burning with need, my name on her lips as she cries out and comes once, twice, three times. I meet her on her fourth orgasm, shuddering as my seed spurts into the sink and down over my clenched fist.

'I love you,' she says, her eyes locked on mine, mournful, defeated.

'I love you more than you'll ever know,' I rasp as my orgasm ebbs and the last of my semen pulses out, freed, wasted, useless. I turn on the tap and rinse it away. 'I will do anything for us to be together,' I continue, my voice turning harsh as what should belong to her slips down the drain. 'Anything. Whatever it takes. We will be together. You will be my wife.'

She slides down the glass wall and huddles into herself, her arms around her knees, helpless, broken. I long to go to her, but I cannot. I can only watch her cry.