Silent Prejudice

16

“Eyes on me, Isa.” Strain tugs at Zeno’s voice. A vein bulges in his neck, and his triceps bunch with effort. I do as he says, and only when our gazes are locked does he resume his movements. One quick thrust, then a slow retreat before surging back inside me. He speaks a million words in those ocean eyes of his, but there’s only one I hear. One word can be discerned without interpretation. Mine. I respond in kind with the only thing left for me to say. Yours. Zeno rewards me with an increase in his pace, pounding into me with the intensity of a holy man seeking God. My core is still sensitive from release, each of his movements re-igniting the fire in my belly. I move my body in tandem with his. A push and pull as natural as waves crashing on the shore. Over and over, we melt together in pleasure. My body is alight with sensation, but when Zeno finds his release inside me, it’s my heart that seizes with feeling. Emotions threaten to overwhelm me. To consume and destroy me. Being with Zeno is something I’ve only ever let myself imagine in my darkest moments. Times of great weakness when I sacrificed my pride to give my heart a taste of the impossible. Or so I thought. I never believed something like this could happen, but it has, and I’ve never experienced s*x bound with such intense emotion. All my past escapades shrivel and pale in light of what exists between Zeno and me. He clutches me tight, my name wrenched from his lips, over and over, his c**k pulsing deep within me. Once his movements still, he brings his lips to mine one last time in a kiss fraught with tenderness and devotion. He then slips away to the bathroom. This is his house, so I wonder for the briefest second if he’ll leave now to go to his own room, but that thought is banished when he joins me back in bed. He spoons his body around mine, pulling me against him with a strong arm around my middle. We lie on our sides, bodies molded together, lungs expanding and contracting in sync with one another. I trail my fingers absently over the ridges of his knuckles, not wanting to move and burst the bubble keeping us safe from reality. I note the dusting of hair on the back of his hand and a few smooth slivers of skin that I attribute to scar tissue. There is something alluring about a man’s hands— the embodiment of masculinity and physical strength. They are a roadmap of a person’s aptitudes and experiences, and Zeno’s hands reveal that he’s no stranger to hard work. “I don’t want to upset you by forcing the subject,” Zeno says softly. “But I need to know what happened. Did you recognize the man who broke in?” I breathe deeply through my nose. My mother’s problems can no longer be kept a secret. I’m not sure how Z will respond to the truth, but I have to tell him. “The reason I had to move back home is because I discovered that my mom has been gambling, and she got herself into debt with a family bookie. I knew what that would mean for Dad, so I used my school savings to pay off her debt. After, I told my dad what was going on. He was pissed, but I knew he didn’t have the money to handle the matter himself, and there was no way in hell I was letting the family label him a deadbeat and possibly hurt him.” Z is silent for several seconds as he absorbs the information. “I would tell you that you should have come to me, but I understand why you didn’t. I’m f*****g pissed at myself, though. You should never have been in that situation.” I squeeze his hand, holding his arm tight against my chest to let him know I appreciate his remorse. “None of it was a problem until the bookie came to the house drunk one day while everyone else was gone.” Zeno’s body goes inhumanly still. “This has happened more than once?” His guttural words are infused with lethal calm. “Not as bad,” I whisper. “But, yeah. I was able to escape and get one of my dad’s guns.” “Jesus Christ!” Z rolls away from me and surges from the bed, a hand stabbing through his hair as he paces back and forth before turning a wall of fury in my direction. “His name.” The two clipped words hiss between clenched teeth. “Aldo Consoli.” My voice is small. I know Z isn’t mad at me, and I’m certain he’d never hurt me, but I’ve never witnessed this side of him. Not to this extent. He is the embodiment of righteous vengeance. If anything, I’m scared for anyone who stumbles into his path. Z grabs his clothes and begins to hastily redress. “What are you doing?” I blurt. “I have to go. This is all my fault, and I need to fix it.”

“Stop.” My command is strong enough to snag his attention. “You haven’t slept, and there’s nothing that can be done at three in the morning. Please, stay until the sun is up so I don’t spend the rest of the night worrying.” His piercing stare holds firm, but I know I’ve won when the tension in his shoulders eases. Slowly, he strips his clothes back off and returns to the bed. This time, he lies on his back and pulls me into his side. His body is still, but the press of my ear to his chest reveals a thundering pulse. “Tell me the rest,” he instructs with a forced calm.