Eight . . . swallowed once. Then, our tongue, like sandpaper, rasped I want to be yours … forever. Nine. He moved his mouth close to our ear, his br...ath sharp on our neck. His hand slid under our jacket, our shirt. His fingernails dug into our back as he pulled us closer. Ten. Tell me to do it. He held us close to him as if he could merge our bodies. Our mind awash in his masculinity and life. His lips felt molten on our neck. Eleven. Our eyes closed. Do it. There was pain and blackness.. Each time, his heart raced. If he waited a second too long, got distracted, or jerked the wheel too rapidly, they could easily crash into the cliffs from which the highway was cut or burst through the guardrail and end up crashing into the surf below. He kept glancing at Crispa to see if she would tell him to slow down, but she leaned forward like she could feel the wind rushing by outside and couldn't stop smiling.The gods must have been looking out for madmen that day because they didn't. More

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