Trev and Skate wanna go out drinking, but all I can think about is Blaze. I need her. I need her more than I need air right now.
I pull out my phone and I text her. She calls back instantly. “Deck, baby, you OK?”
“Sure, uhm, of course.” I clear my throat, the gastric acid from the puke is still burning me. “Why are you whispering?”
“Uhm, my new BFF is in a drunken stupor next to me. She’s really awesome. I’m so glad I met her.”
My mind drifts... Scream!
“Deck?”
I try clear some burning shit from my throat. “Uh, yeah, sorry, I was just drifting...”
“You OK?”
Pause. “Sure. Anyway, I’m glad to hear your voice.”
“Deck...hold up. I’ll call you back.”
She turns off the phone and I stare blankly at the drab buildings, the cloudy sky.
She calls back.
“Deck, you wanna spend time with your boys?”
No, I actually just wanna hold you in my arms, and bury myself in you. “Not really.”
“I cleared it with Vikki. I’m coming over.”
Thank god, because I’m drowning without you. “That’d be awesome.”
-5-
I must look like a ghost when Blaze walks into my place. She places two cold hands on my cheeks and bends down to kiss me on the couch. “Jesus, Deck, what happened to your face?”
“Skate and I got into a fight.”
Her jaw drops. “No— Wh— Why!?”
“Don’t worry, Blaze. It’s like our way of shaking hands.”
“Was it because he left me? Because I swear that wasn’t his fault—”
“No, no. I’m not kidding. If we don’t throw a punch at each other every few months we’re not ‘bonding.’ That’s not the problem.”
“You promise? Because he really looked out for me—”
“Blaze! I swear it. Skate and I are tight as rain. Like this.” I put two fingers together.
“O—OK. Then... There’s something else. In your eyes. And you’re pale...”
“I went to see Gina today.”
She stands abruptly. “Oh.”
And then I tell her about it.
-6-
“No regrets, huh? That’s what I said to you, isn’t it? Before Dino threw a Molotov through your building’s window. It’s easy to talk philosophical bullshit to others. Not so easy to live it.”
“Deck, it wasn’t your fault.”
“It also wasn’t not my fault. I chatted to Clarissa at Tom’s today. She blames herself as well. Says she was ‘complacent’ about Gina’s drug use. That’s about the wisest statement I’ve heard about it. Do you stand by and let your friends do drugs? Because it’s cool, maybe. Or do you risk losing their friendship and tough-love it out with them? I mean, I drop—sorry, I dropped. I’m gonna keep that promise to you, Blaze. I swear.”
“Good.”
“But, it was only a week ago when I was about to drop a few pills. Trev was there. He didn’t say shit about it. I mean, he’s not happy about it, but he’s tolerant of it. I was the same when he was doing it. None of us get on Skate’s case. Technically, he’s the only one left of us who’s still doing it regularly. We’re not gonna stop being friends with him because of it. We’ve been through too much together. God! Who am I to talk? Like I said, a week ago I was holding the damn pill in my hand. I even had it to my teeth when your set came on. So who am I to say I’ve ‘stopped’? If something happens between me and you, I got no reason to stay clean.”
“Nothing’s gonna happen. I promise.”
“Don’t promise what you can’t guarantee, Blaze.”
“Nothing’s gonna happen to us, Deck! OK? Nothing!” She’s fearful in her eyes. I think of Clarissa’s own eyes, talking about Skate. I don’t know why I think that, because this isn’t the same, not even a little bit. But I do think of it.
I put my hand behind Blaze’s neck. Squeeze. “Good,” I say. “Good that nothing will happen. Because you’re the only freaking thing going right in my life.”
She gives a wan smile, moves in to kiss me. It hurts, but I don’t care. I’d kiss Blaze if it felt like razors were cutting my skin.
I taste something in her. “Booze?”
“Vodka. A lot of it.”
“You drunk?”
“Was drunk. Now I’m just a little tipsy. I think I’ll have a hangover tomorrow. She gave me a gazillion gallons of OJ.”
I pull her toward me one more time.
Gina’s terrorized face is front and center in my mind—eyes as cold as lakes, hair like a raven’s coat. Gaunt.
Lost.
But as Blaze’s lips touch mine, her tongue, her gentle caress, the face changes. The wraith’s hair goes from black to gold, highlighted with green and pink. Her eyes go as green as fresh leaves. Her arm transforms from pale to colorful, symbols of a life etched on it.
In my vision, the girl—Blaze—strips.
In life, I take off Blaze’s top. And I ease my hands over to the hardening mounds of her tiny breasts.
-7-
It’s dark. The last drops of sun disappear behind some buildings. She gets up, eases her lithe body over to my Asus tablet. The speaker it’s connected to plays a gentle drip-drip rumble. She’s put on Ellie Goulding’s Only You. She twists her body, her back to me, and sways like a belly dancer to the gentle rhythm of the beat.
Just enough to entertain, not enough to distract.
But Blaze does distract me. She distracts me more than a full-length nude of Scarlett Johansson slap-bang in the center of a Times Square billboard ever could.
I watch her.
Each movement, each shake and sway of her body, is a touch into an ethereal fabric which connects us. As she bumps her hip right, I feel it in my ribs. She tilts her head back, and I sense it like fingers caressing my throat.
I move like a cat behind her, my ribs screaming as I do it.
I want her so badly. The need to take her and make love to her feels stronger than the need to breathe.
As she writhes and twists her ass, it makes me needy.
I’ll wait.
I’ll let her finish.
But when she’s done...
She turns, leans back against the tablet’s pedestal—breasts pointing at me, her mouth seductively opened.
It’s my cue.
I pull her body toward me. I’m so hard now that I think I’m gone explode without any further effort.
Her trembling whimper as her bare skin hits my shirt only makes me want her more.
I inhale her scent, move my hands up her sides. She stretches hers behind me and down to my butt.
I keep moving up, on the sides, then front, over her petite breasts. Her nipples are hard and tense. It makes me shudder. I move my hands up to her hair, long and soft on my right. Prickly and bad on my left.
All I can think of is entering her, being one with her, holding her while she breaks underneath me. Her nudity makes my mind howl with desire. It’s all I can do to stop myself from picking her up and ravaging her on the bed.
I think of removing her denims, licking her slit slowly with my full tongue. Tasting her tang, feeling the softness of her swollen nether lips on my own lips.
She presses delicately against me, but the pressure on my probably-broken ribs makes me groan primordially. “Sorry—”
I don’t let her finish! I tug her to me, let her body collide with my bruised side. I let the pain roll over me. She lifts my tee off. Starts kissing my nipples.
Below, I’m pulsing. Begging for explosion. I hear my groans like desperate cries in the dark.
She bites a nipple.
My hands wrap around her head. I push her lips onto my chest as they go insane on my male tits. It’s straining every nerve of mine and making each gland go bonkers.
My mind’s a whirl. All I wanna do is make love to her. I’m losing control. Good guy’s starting to head for the door—
She bites my other nipple.
OK, that’s it now.
-8-
The space between my bedroom and the lounge disappears. I lay her down on my bed. She looks up at me with needful eyes, wide and all-engulfing. MY GOD this girl makes me feel insane.
I get on my knees next to her. But before I swoop down on her, I look at her, wanting to keep this image—the soft night-glow on her skin—with me forever.
I’ll never forget this image.
Her hand stretches out to my waist, tugs me down. She’s smiling. She wants me as much I want her. Which is hard to believe, because I want her more than air.
We wrestle. My hands are all over her hair and hers are all over mine, then trailing my back, my abs, down into my jeans and over my ass. The mixture of pain and pleasure drives me wild.
I wanna take my pants off so badly, and I also don’t want to. Because I want it to last. I want to feel this need for as long as possible. As if the need itself is a tangible thing.
Our breaths and sounds fill the otherwise silent room, the previous song having long since disappeared into an empty cavern.
“You’re music to me,” she says between kisses.
I have no words to explain how that makes me feel.
“You’re my beat,” she says, and then kisses my ear. “My bass. You’re my treble.” She kisses my neck. I kiss hers. “You’re the intro in my life. The outro.”
Then she gets close up in my ears, holds me almost painfully close to her for a moment, and whispers with a rasping voice, “You’re the whole damn song to me.”
-9-
I don’t know any poetry. I can’t write a sentence for shit. I’ve never painted anything, never played an instrument. My hands are only good for catching footballs and lifting furniture. There’s really only one way I know how to show a girl how I feel about her, only one way I can get everything I’m feeling, understood by her:
I weave my hands through Blaze’s hair and clasp it tight, not to hurt her, but because I can’t get close enough to her. She opens wanting eyes. I fall into them. I fall into a kaleidoscope of intertwined thoughts and emotions.
Her lips move up toward me, but she can’t reach me because I’m holding her down. I just want to look at her. I want to see her face every moment I have left in my life.
She writhes below me, getting friction on her center. She wants it as well. I don’t let my gaze drift from hers as I undo my pants. She takes hers off at the same time. Before I know it, we’re naked. My unclothed cock presses gently against her nub and she hissssssses and clasps her eyes and ooompfs.
We ride. Just like that. Friction external.
No words are spoken, and yet music howls and yowls around us.
The room spins.
Lights throb down.
I’m in a club with her, no one else on the dancefloor. It’s heaven. It’s hell. It’s us against the world.
She holds my cock, tightens it, pulls up on it just once and I almost fire.
Then pushes it down, toward her center, and then lower, edging me to enter her.
I ease myself lower.
And I can’t get inside her fast enough.
-10-
I won’t bullshit you here. It’s fast. For both of us. On my side it’s three thrusts. And then I’m rushing. It’s firing out of me and I’m exploding and I’m ROOOOOAAARING. And then she gasps. And the womanly sound of it only makes me gun harder. Because now she’s clenching her legs around me and holding me—that’s the thing, you see? It’s how she freaking holds me! There’s nothing like it. It makes me wanna hold her back and never let her go. It makes we wanna do crazy shit like beat someone into a pulp if they ever get in her way.
She’s groaning and crying out and spasming like a gajillion times below me.
We stop together, still writhing. Still squeezing. Still twisting.
In the end, we rock. And we hold each other in a deathgrip of need—hands and arms and legs surrounding each other.
Too afraid to let go.
-11-
In the middle of the night, I awake in the throes of agony. My ribs are killing me. My head feels like it’s about to explode.
As if connected by some interspatial link between our minds, Blaze wakes with a start. “Deck?”
“It’s cool, baby. Just a little pain in my ribs.” And in my mind.
You’re a devil, aren’t you, Deck?
Blaze snuggles closer, grazes some fingers over my few chest hairs. She presses down on my cheek with her fingers and, before I realize it, her lips are all over mine. The dull thud in my ribs is excruciating, and the flavor of her sweet saliva is invigorating.
I turn her and put her on her back. In response to her hesitation—and the instinctive hand that jumps toward the bluish red mark on my side—I say, “It’s cool. I want to be over you.”
Her tense muscles ease, and she widens her legs for me.
I grab my shaft and massage myself into her, slowly, then faster. Each thrust is a kick in my stomach, and a beautiful lick of my manhood.
I love her. And I want her. So I’ll take her. And if life wants to kick me in the balls because of it, I’ll go through it. I’ll be with her despite the pain.
She begins to moan.
The thrusts on my part are not exactly rhythmic. They’re jagged. After each thrust in, I have to suck in a breath and gather my senses. But each thrust is also an exquisite contraction of sensation down below.
After several of them, the pain becomes bearable, and then, dull and nonexistent. Or, perhaps, simply a part of the pleasure.
Blaze goes “Mmmmmmm.” She rolls her head side to side. Each pump into her evokes a wince and a squeeze of her lips, a maddening tightening of her eyes.
And of her vag.
I feel myself growing inside her, or maybe it’s her getting tighter.
She begins to push against me below. The posts of the bed thump-thump against the wall.
Blaze raises her legs—eyes still closed. Her hands go under her thighs. And, still, she groans, “Umpf. Oh! Ooh!”
Every thrust, every drive, and her beat: “Umpf. Oh! God!”
Thrust. Drive. Pump.
Sweat breaks out on my brow.
She calls my name, and I think of that song, Say my name! Not Destiny’s Child. Florence and the Machine. Blaze’s favorite.
Say my naaaaaaaaaaaame!
“Umpf. Oh! Ooh!”
And then me, a thumping synthesizer beat behind the cymbals. Deeper: “OH. GOD!”
And always the beat: thump-thump. “Umpf. Oh! Deck, baby!”
Thrust, in, out.
She’s wet, so wet. My hand grips her butt, lifts it slightly. Her head slams back into the pillow, her face a mixed contortion of smiling magnificence and stinging need.
Like a herd of wildebeest, I hear it forming way down in her chest: The rumble, the inevitable stomp-stomp-stomp of that mad charge. Over the horizon, approaching, a cloud of dust being kicked up into the air.
And behind them, behind the beasts, as they drive, stomp, chugga-chugga-chugga-chugga-snort over the hill, is the sun.
Approaching.
I hear it, deep in her lungs. First as a slow wail. Then I feel it as well: An almost unbearable tightness as her body matches her sounds to tell me...it’s on its way.
And it’s gonna blow.
Her hands tighten under her thighs.
Her eyes fly open.
My ribs burst with insufferable anguish. And yet, I pump—a piston at full roar.
A thin scrim of sweat breaks on her forehead. Her mouth opens. It’s as if my drives are expelling the very air from her. The only sounds now are gasps, waiting, waiting, waiting...
As if begging, her mouth makes the sound: “Urrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr...”
One hand leaves her thigh, goes to my chest, trickles down it. She bends her head right; closes her eyes once again.
Her entire body goes into a brittle tenseness, china falling off a ten-floor bui
lding, headed for the sidewalk.
A hundred-ton pressure.
I see the striated lines on her neck, the redness on her face and chest as she wills the orgasm to fire against her and take her.
And then...
...it does.
-12-
And it does for me as well.
-13-
I empty myself into her. I’ve never felt such relief. Eternal relief, as my juice fills her.
After, the pain is agony. It hits me again with such a fervor that I actually feel like I’m gonna pass out.
I think I even do pass out. Because next thing I know, it’s morning. And the pain is gone.
TWENTY-SIX
GAME-CHANGER
-1-
Blaze Ryleigh
Everything changed.
The earth fell out from under my feet.
Nothing was stable anymore.
Sex is not the same as Sex. Sometimes it’s better. Other times, it’s a total fucking game changer.
Life without Declan was no longer an option. No longer a factor to compute with. We’d become too close. We were no longer two separate entities. Don’t ask me how that is, but it is.
-2-
Mr. Bernstein calls just before Deck leaves. He tells me the building is inhabitable again. He also asks me if any of my stuff got damaged and if I “need a little something” to hold me over.
I laugh. “Mr. Bernstein, in all the years I’ve known you, you’ve been a terrible landlord. Terribly good. Aren’t you guys supposed to be mean or something?”
“I make up for it with the other schmucks I have as tenants. Besides, I could never be mean to you. I’m too scared of your mother.”
No, you’re too in love with her. “You should call Mamah, you know? I think she’d like to hear from you.”
A sigh. “Maybe I will. Maybe I will indeed. How are things with your...friend?”
I feel a little embarrassed. Just like a daughter to a father. “He’s...good.” I bite my finger. “I also made another friend. The real deal, I think. A girl.”
Find Me (Truthful Lies Trilogy - Book Two) Page 13
