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Anita

Our hands are desperate, roaming one anothers bodies. This may be our last night after all, before the world ends—before we end. The heat between us is charged, full of tension. His large hands are gentle, while they explore me, nothing like his normal, clinical examination. There is no light but the moon beaming through the sheer curtains. His bed creaks under us, his lips against my shoulder, pulling down my dress, exposing my body to his hungry eyes. Those green eyes, raking over my body. I try to memorize it. I cup his face and smile, baring myself to him, offering everything of me, as he has offered everything of himself for my cause.

Lance shudders, taking his shirt off. His broad chest glistens. I reach up and touch it. I won't be able to touch him again will I? God...

He smiled as if senses my thoughts. "Clear your mind," he murmurs. "It's just you and me tonight. What fate has led up to."

Fate. That damned fate. Is this really the only choice we have? To have one night we share the same feelings, and never again? After everything I've suffered I finally have it—everything I want—but only for a moment? Is that fate? A tear tracks down my cheek, falling on his pillow. "Why are you crying?" He smiles but his voice is full of tears too, so I cry harder. I reach out my arms, and he settled into them, fingers brushing my sides, as if every part of me is important.

"Every time...I feel loved by you it's just a dream. And it isn't real."

"it's real," he whispers.
"I don't want you to leave."
"But I have to go."

I hug him tighter and I try to stop ruining this moment with my tears, because soon it will be over and they'll drag him away from me.

He pulls away, touching me the way only he has. He kisses me, softly and sweet, with affection. His lips skim my stomach, kissing the scars I thought no one could ever love, that I hate to look at. All I can think about is how short this time will be, just till the morning.

"You're the most beautiful thing God has ever crafted, Anita." He kisses me and I close my eyes, embarrassed as he cherishes every inch of my skin.

It feels like something from a novel I've read. It feels unreal, this affection between us, his pressing against my sex. My legs clamp closed, unused to it. He's patient, propping them open, his breath warming my soaking pussy. I swallow the whimper, but it escapes my lips anyway, and he continues his ministrations with gusto, music to his ears.

The pleasure waves over me, something I've never known, and it seems so fitting that I will only have it again as a memory.

He raises his head, the moon sparkling in his eyes. He's beautiful. His pants hang low on his hips, a trail of dark sparse hair disappearing into them. I lick my lips in anticipation my body clenching with need for him.

"I love you," he whispered, undressing completely, his body covering mine. He doesn't rush. He just looks into my eyes, softly caressing my cheek. His hardness rests at my entrance, twitching but his expression doesn't betray the need. His eyes watch over mine, taking in my expression.

"Are you okay?"

I nod. Urging my hips toward his. Lance kissed me, easing into my wet cunt, aching for him. I sigh in relief, putting my arms around his neck. We rock together gently, like a dance in a ballroom we shared all those years ago. Our bodies meshing, pleasure coursing , through my veins. He fills me, making me whole like he belongs there, like this space is just for him to fill.

He curses, holding me tightly in his strong arms. I inhale the scent of him, the feeling of his skin, the color of his eyes, the way my name rolls off his tongue.
Anita.

His love. His wife. For the first time and the last.

"I love you," he whispers again, and I memorize that too, the way he says I love you as pleasure over takes me, my breath escaping me. I think I have been branded. His cum fills me, warm almost hot, but soothing. We don't move for a while. I try to keep my eyes open, but I can't. He speaks softly to me, as if he were trying to speak to my dreams rather than me.
We stay intertwined though he turns over, laying next to me, taking his place inside me, his nose against mine. I try to fight sleep. I don't catch all of things he says, only some of them.

"You won't be alone. Michael will check on you. You must enjoy the sun...my beautiful love."

The next time my eyes open, he is still awake but the sun has not come up.

"You'll use your cane?" I croak.
He nods. "Yes my love."

I close my eyes again, forgetting for a moment that this are our last few hours.

"You are like sunshine. My life has been illuminated by you, and I foolishly summoned the clouds. But I am glad now, love. The sun is shining."

Morning comes, and there is a knock at the door. We look at one another. He stands and tugs up his pants. I wrap the sheet around me, following after him.

"Maybe we could smuggle you out. To England?"
He just shakes his head. "Not likely."

"France then. You can put on a French accent and we could open a cafe with a swing in the front," I beg, as he walks toward the door, toward his doom. "Please don't do this for me. I'll tell them you ran, that you left me last night and made way for the border, by the time they realize you could be halfway to Spain."

Lance smiles and cups my cheek as the constables break down the door. "It's too late for that. Besides I can't implicate you in my crimes."

Lance bends down to kiss me, but before our lips connect the constables hail him away, toward the carriage. I stumble after him.

"Lance! Lance! Your cane!"

He smiles. We both know it won't help him. Not with a noose around his neck.

"I will be alright, Anita. Go inside."

I swallow back my tears. I'm losing him. How am I losing someone I love again?!
How am I alone again?
My knees give out, scrapping the rough pavement.

"Lance..."

"Go in the house, Anita." He commands sternly. "Don't watch me go away. It'll only hurt you."

But I don't heed him. He's right. My heart shatters every moment as he's taken away his green eyes on mine, between the bars of the police carriage.
It only hurts.

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