“Okay. You sure you're alright?”

“Yes,” I insisted. “I swear. I just think I am dehydrated.”

Another neighbor, Ted, interjected himself. “Rory, poker night won't be the same without you.”

I used that as my cue to exit, hoping Bobby hadn't escaped too far. We didn't have plans, but moving was something I never anticipated. Just like when my sister walked in on our pre-wedding scheming, this development was sobering.

I walked into the house, looking through the first level, hoping I would find Bobby, but he wasn't there. I went upstairs, and it was empty. I looked out the window, to see if maybe he joined the chatting crowd again, but I didn't see him.

I didn't know what my plan was, but I felt like I needed to speak to him. Just two days of faking it was eating me from the inside out. I couldn't let him think I was so easily accepting my fate with Rory. I clung to the window curtain, like a prisoner fantasizing about the outside world.

“Tired of the crowd?” a throaty voice asked from behind. I spun to see Bobby's dark silhouette in the doorway to my bedroom.

“I was looking for you. I looked everywhere.”

“Yeah, well I didn't want to be found for a while,” he replied. One of his fits of silence.

The muted sounds of chatter died down further. I glanced back out the window, the procession towards the fireworks had already begun.

“They're leaving to watch the fireworks. Are you going?” I asked.

“Let them go,” he said. Bobby wasn't playful. He wasn't carefree. This was the rare Bobby who burned with an intensity that could melt iron.

I sighed in frustration, deciding to take a risk. I grabbed Bobby by the forearm and pulled him into the room, locking the door behind him.

“I didn't know, I swear,” I said.

“I never said I thought you did.”

“Are you upset with me?” I asked.

“Upset with you?” he paced around the room. “No . . . no . . .” He almost chuckled. “I'm not upset with you, Lil. I want you. All the goddamned time. I am sick of sharing you. I am sick of lying to my brother. I am sick of accepting that I can't have you. I have been patient, Lil. I have sat on the sidelines. And I thought the stinging would dull, but pain like this never gets easier. I have to relieve it every day. Seeing you. Not being able to reach out and touch you when I want. Not say the things I want to say. Hear you're moving because another man made that choice for you. I love my brother, but you deserve better. He's not the person you married.” Bobby's face was red with pent up anger.

“Having those two weeks wasn't enough, Lil. It's like the stinging stopped and I knew what it was like not to live with that pain. I haven't felt that since I can remember. I have wanted you my entire life and there was always a reason I couldn't have you. There's always been an ache. And I have room to spare on one hand the times I had a chance to make the ache stop.”

“They weren't enough for me either.”

The screaming of the first firework blared through the window, soon followed by the muffled sound of an explosion.

“I'm done, Lil. I can't do this.” He turned to walk away. “Either I have all of you, or none. But I won't torture us both any longer.”

“Don't!” I grabbed his forearm. “Don't, please.”

He grimaced as if my grip smarted, but it wasn't a physical pain. “Lil. Don't do this. I promised myself not here. Not in his house.”

A collection of blasts vibrated the walls as a kaleidoscope of colors flickered through the window sheer, illuminating Bobby's face.

“Bobby, I need you. I love you. So bad. I still lie in bed and fantasize about you, only you're in the next room. I resist everything in my being not to sneak out and climb on top of you while you're sleeping.”

His body eased under the spell of my words. I took his hand and lifted my skirt, gently guiding it towards the moisture between my legs. “This is what you do to me, Bobby. Rory never could.”

A firework howled in the distance. Red light flickered along Bobby's clenched face as he tried to exert any remaining will he had left.

“Bobby, please,” I begged.

His fingers curled against the plump wetness between my thighs, and just like the fireworks outside the window, he exploded, grabbing my arm and yanking me towards him.

“Dammit, Lil,” he growled, crashing his lips against mine. His fingers slid inside of me.

“Is this what you want, Lil? You want me to screw you in my brother's bedroom?” he asked angrily.

“Yes. I just want you. Anywhere. All the time,” I choked out.

Another firework screeched, then popped.

He pulled me to the vanity and pushed me onto it, facing away from him. “You're going to face this, Lil. You're not going to close your eyes and escape the wrong we're doing.” He ripped up the skirt of my dress, yanked the panties down, and pressed into me. It wasn't gentle. A cluster of fireworks pattered as I let out a cry when he pushed his entire length into me.

“They'll hear us.” I pleaded.

“I don't care anymore, Lil. I really fucking don't. Let them.” I knew how he felt, it was exactly how I did on my wedding day.

He braced my neck, wrapping his long fingers along the nape, making me watch in the dark mirror, as he slid in and out of me. I could barely focus on the sight as the unrelenting tightness of his angry erection inside of me stole all of my faculties. Bobby yanked down the top of my dress, kneading my breast with his hand.

“You feel so good, Lil,” he grunted into my ear, as he nipped along my shoulder and neck. His warm breath and stubble brushed against my skin, leaving a scorched trail of tingles wherever his lips traveled.

A scattering of gentle pops accompanied by gold sparkles reflected on the mirror, raining along our shadowed faces.

“Bobby, harder,” I begged. I wanted to feel pain. I wanted to be punished for the filthy act I was committing. I wanted to drown out the voices of doubt. To snuff the fear. I needed to only feel Bobby's shaft grinding inside of me, his slick chest pressed against my back, the sultry gusts of his breath tickling my hairline as he panted.

“Lil, it'll never be enough,” he protested through a tightened jaw. “I want it all,” he demanded.

“Have it, Bobby. Take it,” I whimpered. The trinkets hopped in unison on the dresser with each violent entry.

Like tribal drumbeats, the fireworks boomed in rapid succession. Unrelenting. Deafening. As maniacal and crazed as Bobby. I wailed as he stiffened inside of me, pumping himself, marking me like a territorial beast in his another man's den. I collapsed onto the vanity, full of Bobby, but still not sated.

A rainbow of colors flickered throughout the room. The beating of the fireworks had not stopped and to my shock neither did Bobby. He turned me over, still in a rage, and hoisted me up on the vanity as I held on, stunned. He dropped to his knees, like a subjugate vowing his fealty to a queen.

He propped my thighs along his shoulders and pressed his mouth against me. Suckling the tenderness, rolling his tongue inside and along the engorged, ripe arousal. Tasting the mixture of our sex on his lips. Tasting the forbidden fruit of our union. And though he was greedy, though he was like a starved man feasting on the freshest nectar, he was sensual. His lips and tongue moving slowly, deeply, attentively.

Like the breath was vacuumed brutally out of my lungs, I sucked in air frantically.

The finale, in its final throes of glory, masked my sobs of pleasure as I convulsed around the seal of his lips on my mound. Reds. Blues. Purples. Silvers. Golds. Whistling. Popping. Screeching. The room filled with sounds and colors against the backdrop of shadows. Bobby held my thighs down, forcing me to experience the intensity of the shockwaves that emanated from his mouth.

I rested back on the mirror, still reaching for air, feeling like liquid held together by skin.