He begins giving me exactly what I asked for, hand moving from my shoulder so his arm can wrap across my breasts to hold me tight to him while he pounds into me harder, faster, his cock barely out of me before he's thrusting back in. But I don't say it his name. Instead, I moan it. I gasp it. I breathe it like it's a damn prayer, the tension in me becoming unbearable as my body begs for release.
"Come on my cock." He groans. "It's mine. Give it to me."
I just need one more thing. One more. It comes from Law licking the shell of my ear as he buries himself so deep inside of me that I can't even make a sound come out of my mouth from how good it feels. A breathy moan is all I can manage as I spasm around him.
"Yes." He pants. "Make me come. Take it from me. Keep tightening around me."
I couldn't stop my body from doing that if I tried. I reach around and grip his ass, pushing him harder into me while I come downon his cock as much as this position allows. Sudden pain flares when he bites down on my shoulder, muffling his groan as he comes, slamming into me and stilling there, holding my body as tight to him as possible. His cock pulses and twitches inside of me, making me shudder at the feel of it, at the fullness of it inside of me.
His teeth release my shoulder, licking where the pain remains. His hand lets go of my hair and my head falls forward as I try to catch my breath. His arm lowers from my breasts, and all energy suddenly leaving me, I fall forward, back onto my hands and knees. Law pushes forward and I go down farther, until I'm lying on the bed, his weight at my back. I like his weight on top of me far too much.
"I don't want to move," he says.
"So don't," I reply. More like plea.
But he doesn't answer my plea, pulling out of me and rolling to the side. I watch him take the condom off and drop it on the side of the bed, then lie there for a few seconds, taking deep breaths. I want to ask what he’s thinking, but without our bodies connected, it seems there's so much distance between us now. And then my own thoughts turn to what happens now?
Do I go? Does he expect me to stay? Do I want to stay? Is he lying there expecting me to say or do something to let him know what I'm thinking?
Without a word, he gets out of bed and begins dressing, pants getting dragged up his legs, shirt being buttoned. He picks the condom up off of the floor, walks it over to the small trashcan next to the chair he just sat in so I could suck his cock. I sit up in the bed as he sits down in the chair, beginning to put his socks back on.
"You have the room until 11am tomorrow," he finally says. "Get anything you want while you're here. The money will be in your account by the time you wake up."
"Suddenly, I feel very much like a real whore," I murmur.
He stands and comes over to me. I watch his every step, tilting my head back when he reaches me. He leans down and brings his lips mere inches from mine.
"But come next Saturday, I think you'll like being a whore again."
He gives me one final, slow kiss and then he's walking over to his shoes, stepping into them before crossing the room.
"I expect a text by Friday," he says when he reaches the door. "Goodnight, Sarah."
"Goodnight, Law."
My eyes follow him out of the door, and keep staring as the door closes behind him, leaving me in the room all alone. The room, this bed, feels too big now. I fall back to the pillow, replaying each moment, relishing at the ache between my thighs, the pain at my shoulder and scalp, at all the reminders I will have of this night.
Enough reminders to hold me over until next Saturday. Because, already, I need to see him again. I yearn to see him again. Want all his words, touches, kisses again.
And it scares me as much as it excites me.
“And how exactly did you come up with this amount of money since we last spoke?”
Her arched brow is full of judgment, but I couldn’t care less about what some lady in a small financial department office thinks of me. All I care about is her getting my sister’s name on the transplant list.
“Does it matter?” I snap back. Okay, maybe I care a little. “This is payment in full, so what’s the next step?”
“If the payment goes through,” she says with way too much sass for my liking. “We will notify you and your sister in person if she’s been placed on the list.”
“You mean when,” I interrupt her. “When the payment goes through, and when my sister is placed on the list. Because since I just wrote you a check for two hundred and sixty thousand dollars, I very much expect to see her name on a list within the next few days. Verifying a payment shouldn’t take much longer than that, right? Especially since money seems to matter so much to this hospital.”
I tilt my head just to drive home my point. It sickens me the amount of times I’ve had to sit in this office, basically haggling for my sister’s life. I hate that this woman has watched me cry, begging her for any option there was, all with a straight face, not a bit of sympathy in her eyes. Now, here I am, paying every God damn cent this hospital had demanded just for my sister to have a life-saving surgery, and she still has the audacity to have a smile that’s dripping with condensation.
“As I said,” she continues, “once a name is placed on the list, from there, it’s a waiting game. Because of how advanced yoursister’s renal failure is, I’m sure, should her name be put on the list, that would put her toward the top.”
I ignore her word choices to ask, “So, does that ensure she’ll get a kidney soon?”
“It depends on a lot. Here’s some information that breaks down some of the factors that go into the decision for who is chosen when a donor is found.”
I take the pamphlet she extends to me, feeling like she could just tell me and save me some time. But due to the haughty look she’s still throwing my way, I doubt she thinks I’m worth her time. I smile at her anyway, as I rise from my seat.
“You be sure to let me know when that payment goes through,” I tell her. “I look forward to seeing you in my sister's room, giving us the good news. Have a good day, Stacy."
"It's Sarah."
"Oh." I know her damn name.
I leave the office, make sure I'm a good distance away before I break down. Head leaning back against the wall, eyes closed, tears leaking out of them anyway, I let a shuddering breath leave me. My hand goes to my chest, feels my racing heart beneath it. I blow out a hard breath, still in a bit of disbelief at what I was just able to do. The fact that I just got done signing a check that means Kamila's name can get added to the transplant list. That I was just able to take care of something that has weighed upon Kamila most of all, but me and Laury as well, so easily, at last. After having to give small payments here, charging things to my already overdrawn account there, it feels almost like a dream I never want to wake up from now that it's all done.
The moment I woke up on Sunday morning in the hotel, I grabbed my phone. The relief that rushed through me whenI saw all the money Law had promised in my account is unexplainable. I immediately felt an enormous weight lift off of my shoulders. So much anxiety, sadness, and concern gone, the six digits on my screen telling me they wouldn't return. Sure, there was still finding a donor in time, and Kamila's surgery and recovery to worry about, but this was the part that caused the most sleepless nights.
I push away the bit of annoyance that I had to wait until today to even make the payment. I'd come to Sarah's office first thing Monday morning, but all I found was an out of office notice on the door. The same thing awaited me on Tuesday and Wednesday. I'd damn near let out a whoop when I got there today and saw the door open.
But none of that matters now. The arguments I've had with doctors and Sarah about them being so heartless as to need payment before they'd put Kamila’s name on the transplant list. All the tips me and Laury have poured into just trying to keep up with the hospital bills, while also trying to save money for the surgery. The missed sleep from working overtime and spending what time I should have been sleeping visiting Kamila, it was all worth it; I'd do it all again, but God, am I glad it's done now.
"Are you okay, dear?"
My eyes open at the sound of Veronica's voice. I smile at her.
"I am much more than okay." I chuckle.
She looks confused but smiles back at me anyway. "Well, let's go see that sister of yours. She should be in a good mood. I let her win at poker yesterday."
I laugh. "Dare I ask what the hell you guys were betting with?"
"I brought in my little piggy bank, and we used that. She got me for about five bucks."
"Ah, but you let her, right?"
"Of course, of course."
We walk into the ward, and she begins walking toward the nursing station.
"I'll be in there in a few."
"Alright."
I walk, probably now that I'm alone noticing the pep in my step, to Kamila's room.
"The best sister in the world is here," I announce as I enter, but the moment I see Kamila, my smile drops. "What's wrong?"
She's pale and looks like she hasn't slept in days, with dark circles under her tired eyes. When I left here last night, she did not look like this, didn't even tell me she wasn't feeling well.
"She spiked a fever this morning," the nurse tells me, finishing up taking blood from Kamila's arm.
"This morning!" I exclaim. "Why didn't you call me, Ka?"
"And say what?" she weakly asks. The sound of her voice, the tiredness in it, how it looks like it takes so much effort for her to speak, breaks my heart. "I have a fever, leave work and rush down here to watch me have a fever? There was nothing you could do anyway."
I swallow, wishing I could tell her I quit my job, so I truly could have been here with her this morning. She's right. There's nothing I could have done, but I would have liked to have been here anyway. The thought of her being in pain without me here to comfort her has never and will never sit right with me.
"Have you started antibiotics?" I ask the nurse, coming to stand at the end of the bed.
She points toward the small bag hanging on the pole above the bed. "A few hours ago. The fever has come down some."
"What is it now?"
"100.3"
My eyes widen. "What was it before?"
"Sarah." Kamila groans.
"What was it?" I insist.
"101.7," the nurse answers.
"Do you know what it is?" I ask, walking around the bed to sit beside Kamila's side.
I take her hand in mine, hating how frail it feels. She's lost so much weight since she got admitted, and I never notice it more than when I'm holding her hand.
The nurse shakes her head, bringing my attention back to her. "We're hoping the bloodwork will tell us. It's obviously an infection, but we're not sure from what. Could be something as simple as a cold..."
"Or something more serious?" I push.
"Yes," she tells me the truth that terrifies me.
"Would it affect her getting onto a transplant list?"
I curse when Kamila's head rises off of the pillow, her hand tightening on mine. Giving her hand a squeeze, I hold a finger up, asking her to wait and getting a glare in return. She must be feeling a little bit better to give me the 'I'm the bigger sister' look.
"No, it wouldn't. If anything," she pauses and leans in a little before continuing, "It might help a little, but this fever should be outta here by tomorrow, so don't even let it be a factor in your mind."
I nod as she begins walking toward the door. "I'll let Veronica know everything that's going on, and we should get the results back from this bloodwork in a few hours. Anything at all, and you call for a nurse, okay, Kamila?"
"I will. Thank you," Kamila says.
I can hear Kamila's question coming before the door even completely closes.
"What's going on?" she asks.
I look down at her, putting the smile I had a few minutes ago back on my face. "You're going to be added to the list."
"What?" she croaks. "But... how?"
I swallow the guilt for how I'm about to lie to her. "I got a loan."
"But we tried that already, at damn near every bank."
"I went to a small bank, out of town. I had to kinda pull on their heart strings, but they agreed to give it to me."
"A bank agreed to give you..."
"Three hundred thousand dollars," I supply.
Her eyes widen in surprise, but then narrow with obvious suspicion. "They gave you that much money because you told them some sob story about your sick sister, Sarah?"