by Beth Michele
The puzzle pieces fit together, and my hard shell cracks because I know what it’s like to put up a shield to block out the pain. And when I look at him now, that’s all I see—years of pain filling his eyes, creasing his skin, seeping into his soul. Empathy softens my resolve and I walk over, dropping down beside him. I want to reach out, but fear of rejection keeps me at a distance.
“What fourteen-year-old commits suicide?” he says bitterly, and while he asked a question, I know he’s not looking for an answer. “I’ll tell you. A fourteen-year-old boy who’d been molested for almost two years… who couldn’t handle the memories anymore… whose mother had no fucking clue about it because she was too busy drinking and fucking anything with a dick,” he spits out, swiping a hand across his mouth. “She was so fucking useless. If he hadn’t finally confided in Hunter, we would never have known.”
His shoulders curl further over his chest as he stares at the floor. “I found him,” he says, voice hoarse with so much anguish that my breathing halts. “He was on the floor of his bedroom. So cold and pale, so lifeless. I’ll never get that image out of my head as long as I live.”
“I’m so sorry, Rex.” Compassion outweighs my fear and I move closer to him until our arms are touching, though I know it’s not enough to make that horror go away.
Nothing could ever be enough.
He edges forward, placing his head in his hands and I rest my own hand on his back. “It just fucking sucks, you know.” Craning his head to the side, he meets my eyes and holds them. “I owe you an apology. I’m sorry for the way I treated you and all those awful things I said to you in the bar, and also for what I said about you and…,” he pauses a beat, swallowing hard before he says his name, “Ryder.”
“Apology accepted,” I say warily. “Just don’t do it again. But… I’m still not sleeping with you because you acted like an asshole.”
A hint of a smile curves his lips. “That’s okay, Blondie, I’m too fucking drunk anyway. I don’t think I could get it up.”
“Oh my God!” I giggle, relieved when he laughs, too. “Hey,” I place a hand on his knee, my voice growing serious, smile fading, “I’m really sorry about your brother. I bet he was a great kid.”
“Yeah, he was.” He fists a hand against his mouth, clearing his throat a couple of times as if he’s trying to hold back the emotion. “You got anything to drink?”
“I sure do.”
I spring up from the couch and head into the kitchen. There’s a six pack of Poland Spring water in the fridge, so I open it up and snag one, grabbing a clean glass from the dish drainer and filling it. Not more than a minute later, I come back out to the living room to find Rex slumped against the couch, fast asleep. I set the glass on the table and sit down next to him. My fingers brush away a stray wisp of hair from his forehead. He looks so incredibly peaceful and even though I don’t believe in wishes, I find myself wishing that for him—peace. I wonder how much more pain lies beneath the surface, what he’s endured, the burdens he carries.
I remember my words to Olivia, and shake off those wayward thoughts. My main problem now is what to do with him because he’s too heavy for me to carry to my room, yet I don’t want him to be alone. He’s way too drunk.
Plodding over to the linen closet, I retrieve a comforter and pillow for him. When I return to the sofa, he’s snoring lightly and it makes me smile. Without waking him, I lay him down gently on the pillow, swinging his legs around so he’s laid out, then remove his shoes. He mumbles something in his sleep that sounds a lot like Blondie. I’m sure it’s a mistake though, because that would be ridiculous.
After covering him up with a blanket, I traipse to my room, changing into a tank top and sleep shorts. I snatch my pillow and favorite purple blanket, a housewarming gift from Olivia when I moved in seven years ago.
I arrange my pillow and blanket on the sofa directly across from him and snuggle in. I’m not all that tired and don’t have to go into the office until noon tomorrow, but still need to get some rest. My eyes have a mind of their own though, and refuse to close. Instead, they peek over the blanket, catching a glimpse of Rex. Drunk Rex. I shake my head, but then get up and shuffle to the other couch, standing over him. For just a minute, I stare at his face bathed in sleep before pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Goodnight, Rex,” I whisper, and he stirs.
“Goodnight, Blondie,” he mumbles before turning on his side.
I lie back down, my eyes close, and I fall fast asleep.
Fuck. My head is pounding as if someone took a sledgehammer to it. I blink my eyes and see light streaming through pale yellow curtains. Where the hell am I? When they open completely, it all comes rushing back. Last night, getting cocked, opening up to Vanessa. I smile, letting out a wide yawn, when I notice her on the other couch. She slept here with me? Well, that was… sweet. Then I notice a bottle of Tylenol and a large glass of water on the table. Hmph. More sweetness.
I pop two pills on my tongue, washing them down with a huge swig of water, the liquid doing nothing to remove the rancid taste in my mouth. The need to pee and brush my teeth is strong, so I wander around her apartment until I find the bathroom located down the hall and to the right. I relieve myself, then after washing my hands, squeeze some toothpaste on my finger and roll it around my mouth.
When I come back out, my eyes have finally adjusted to being awake. As I scan the room, I notice Vanessa has a lot of really nice shit in here: leather couches, flat screen television, a kitchen with those fancy stainless steel appliances. And as I look to my right, a great view of the city. This place must cost serious bucks.
The clock on the wall says it’s six in the morning, which means I have several hours before I need to be at work. I glance over at Vanessa. She moves, causing her tank top to ride up, baring the smooth skin of her stomach. My dick responds instantly and I will it to calm down. There’s a pretty good chance she wants nothing to do with me after last night. And who could blame her. I acted like an asshole.
I guess there’s only one way to find out.
I’m quiet as I make my way over and kneel down on the floor, taking a minute to just watch her. There’s a strand of hair stuck to her lip, and I gently push it behind her ear. I bend down, lips touching the flesh of her belly, scattering kisses all over her skin. She makes a tiny noise in her throat, her eyelids fluttering open.
“Morning.” My voice is low, lips wanting to attach themselves to her again.
“Morning,” she rubs her eyes, “what time is it?”
“It’s early. Only six.” My nose circles her belly button and she whimpers, but I stop abruptly to meet her gaze. “Is this okay?” I ask, wanting to make sure I’m not overstepping.
“Yes, you’re forgiven. Now keep going.” She smirks, and I smile against her, my tongue continuing to wander along her delicate curves. When I glance at her, she’s biting her lip and I move up her body, suddenly wanting to capture it between my teeth. I hover over her, that sweet mouth taunting me, drawing me in.
“Blondie?” I whisper against her.
“Hmmm?”
“Did I tell you how much I love your lips?” I eagerly brush her mouth with my own.
“No, you told me how much you love my tits and my pussy.” She grins.
“Well, I love your lips, too.” My tongue darts out to swipe across her bottom lip.
“Rex?” she breathes out.
“Yeah?”
“Shut up and kiss me.”
“I like it when—”
She ends my sentence, her hands sinking into my hair, urging me forward. My lips land on hers, my eager tongue reaching into her warm, wet mouth. She pulls me in, sucking, playing, exploring, as we twine around one another. I honestly can’t get enough of her. I could drown in her taste, the smell of her skin, the feel of her pussy.
I shift so my weight is on top of her, feeling her heat through the thin fabric of her shorts, my cock pushing against the zipper of my jeans. She moans into my mouth as she rubs
against my dick, sending a vibration of want through me. And I’m so God damn hungry for her. I’ve never wanted anyone like this before and I’m not sure I really understand it, but the last fucking thing I’m doing right now is analyzing it.
Reluctantly, I break from her lips, staring at eyes that are half-lidded, lips parted and swollen. “Jesus, you drive me crazy, you know that?” My breathing is hurried, completely out of control. “I want to fuck you so badly right now.”
She only has one response, and it’s the best fucking one I could hope for. Her hands drop to the band of her tank, lifting it up and over her head, a sexy smirk lining her mouth. I lick my lips at the sight of her puckered nipples before cupping her breast, tugging on her with my teeth.
“Hmmm,” she moans, and I swear to fuck I could come just by hearing that sound alone.
With one last flick of her nipple, I release it with a pop, my eyes darting around the room until I find what I’m looking for. “How attached are you to that table over there?”
She looks at me quizzically, trying to figure out what the hell I’m talking about. “Huh?”
“Because I want to fuck you on it.” I smirk, biting the edge of my lip.
“No attachment whatsoever,” she comes back with immediately, no hesitation, nothing but mischief alight in her pale blue eyes.
Like I said—such a fucking turn on.
Bounding to my feet, I reach under and she squeaks when I grasp her ass, her head falling back on a laugh. I go for her neck, sucking on the skin there, wanting to leave my mark.
When we reach the table, I set her down. She pushes everything off—books, papers, candles, and any other girly shit that was on there—then leans back against it. Topless, with just those sexy shorts, she eyes me as I reach down and slide my shirt off, strolling over my tattoo. I tilt my head to the side, crossing my arms over my chest and shaking my head.
“What?” Her lips quirk up at the corners.
“It’s just that you’re so unexpected.”
“Is that good?” she questions as I close the gap between us, pushing her silky waves away from those stunning eyes.
“Yeah, it’s real good.” Our eyes meet and hold for what seems like an overpowering minute before I lower my thumb to her nipple, rolling over the hardened peak. She reaches out a slender finger and traces the lines of my eagle tattoo, skimming my chest with her nails.
“Hmm,” she murmurs, as I continue playing with her nipple. “I like how rough your finger feels.” She looks down at it, then back up to me. Her eyes are clouded with lust but I see something else there, something I didn’t see when we first met.
A spark.
I see hope.
An unfamiliar tingling sweeps over me and I quickly brush it off. I can see whatever I like, but when it comes down to it, there’s no hope for me.
“Hey.” The sound of her voice brings me back to reality, where I need to stay. “You okay?”
“I will be once you’re spread open on the table.”
Her tongue does a slow waltz across that full bottom lip before she hooks her thumbs into her shorts and slides them down, taking her panties with them. Hands behind her on the table, she hops up and reclines back, her body like a fucking temple and I intend to cherish every inch of it.
Without taking my eyes from hers, I remove my jeans and boxers, my cock firmly pointed in her direction. Her tongue darts out to moisten her lips as she drops back on the table, spreading her legs for me and crooking a finger, urging me closer.
My only thought right now—life is fucking great.
I snag a condom from the wallet in my jeans, then stalk toward her. Each footstep feels like an eternity because I want inside her so badly. When her hand flies over her stomach, moving toward her pussy, I have to stop her.
“No. I won’t last if you do that, and I want to be inside you too much right now. Let’s save that for another time,” I say smugly, and I’m rewarded with a cat-like grin as she opens her legs even more for me.
Jesus.
After rolling on the condom, I climb over her body, holding myself up on my elbows. My hand disappears between us, and I run my finger lightly over her slit, coated with her arousal. I hiss a breath through my teeth at how drenched she is, something primal going off inside of me that makes me want to bang on my chest. I did this to her.
“Rex,” she purrs, making my cock harden even more. “Fuck me, I want you to fuck me hard.”
“You want it rough?” The heated spark in her gaze is the only response I need. “Then hold on for the ride, baby,” I say, and something flashes in her eyes as she smiles back at me. It makes me hesitate for just a beat, before I put it out of my head. “Fuck, you’re wet. My mouth is watering. I can’t decide if I want to lick you, or fuck you.”
“Rex,” she breathes out on a pant as I massage her clit over and over. “Stop talking, your words and your finger are going to make me come. Hmmm,” she moans again, pushing herself into my hand, wanting more.
I position myself at her drenched entrance before sliding the tip in slowly. Apparently, it’s too slow for her because she grabs my ass and pulls me in, my cock so deep inside her pussy, filling her, while she stares at me with an intensity I’m not used to. There’s absolutely nothing modest about her and she has no idea how much that turns me on. This is a girl who knows exactly what she wants and isn’t afraid to go after it.
“Fuck me harder, Rex,” she screams out, and I rock into her, in and out, harder, rougher. I groan when she squeezes my ass again. “Rub my clit,” she begs, and I lower my finger to the pink folds of her pussy, circling her, moans of pleasure dropping from her mouth.
“You feel so good,” I groan, watching heavy breaths fall from her parted lips, lust coloring her cheeks.
“I’m gonna, come,” she calls out, and there’s no way I’m going to last either. She feels too fucking good.
“Come for me,” I groan, my neck corded tight, cock ready to burst inside of her.
“Ahhh,” she whimpers as she spasms around me, her pussy throbbing, sending me over the edge as I continue to pump into her.
“Fuck,” I growl, as I come ferociously inside of her before crashing my lips to hers, the salt from our sweat mixed with the sweetness of her lips.
I break from her mouth, panting, my head falling against her breast. It’s not until she starts laughing that I raise my head. “What’s so funny?” I try to catch my breath. “I’m not sure there was anything funny about that.”
“I’ve never fucked on a table before,” she giggles, “and that was amazing.”
I shake my head and laugh, too. “Yeah, it was. And… I’ve never fucked on a table before, either,” I admit, suddenly unsure as to why I feel the need to spout off when I’m around her. It’s like she’s some kind of fucking truth serum.
“Really?” she asks, seemingly happy with my response.
“Yeah, really.”
“Hmph,” she says with a wide smile. “Well, I’m actually thinking this table should be reserved for fucking. I don’t want to eat on it anymore after that, anyway.”
“You’re insane,” I reply, rolling off of her and lying on my back.
“So where’s the most unusual place you’ve ever had sex?” She shifts on her side, propping her cheek on her fist.
“I don’t know if they’re that unusual, but I had sex once in a parking garage, and another time in a press box at a baseball game. What about you, oh adventurous one?”
“Hmph.” Her eyes flick upward in thought. “Probably in the fitting room at a department store. There was a curtain of course.”
She’s silent for a minute, almost contemplative, before reaching out a finger to follow the lines of the guitar strings running alongside my neck. No words are spoken, but I know they’re coming. Questions. More fucking questions. And so I wait, hoping she’ll remain quiet.
But they come anyway.
“I love this tattoo… does it have any special meaning….” She
hesitates, knowing how much I enjoy answering questions.
My wall instantly begins to slide up between us, but when I turn my head sideways to look at her, something in her eyes makes me wonder whether she really is like all the others. She almost looks like she cares. But the war I constantly fight within myself won’t allow me to take my wall down. Instead, I reach over it, handing her this small piece of information.
“It’s to remind me of my brother. He loved strumming the guitar as a kid. He couldn’t play for shit, really, and sounded pretty awful, but,” I shrug, “it was his favorite thing to do.”
She continues sketching the strings with her finger as my mind roams to my freckle-faced brother. “What was his name?” she asks softly.
I huff out a deep breath, not wanting to reveal anything else, still warring with a brain that thinks she has some ulterior motive. Most women do. But for some unknown reason, I continue. “Tyler,” I respond, emotion clogging my throat. “His name was Tyler.”
“Tyler,” she repeats, and then she does something completely unexpected. So unexpected, I don’t know what to make of it. She leans forward, placing a kiss to my tattoo before lying back down on the table. Her lips no longer on my skin.
But I still feel them.
I’m not sure why I just did that. There’s a part of me that feels it was too intimate. But I saw the devastation in his eyes last night when he talked about his brother, and I want him to know that I empathize with his pain—that he’s not alone. He’s lying stock still, though, not saying a word, and I need to do something to lighten the moment.
“So,” I sit up and ease myself off of the table, “I’m going to hop in the shower. I don’t have to work until noon and I’m going to try to meet Olivia beforehand. Do you want to join me in the shower?” I ask as he gets up, his muscles rippling with his movement. He’s ridiculously sexy and I can’t help myself.
“Can I take a rain check?” He snatches his jeans and t-shirt from the floor. “The idea of being near you when you’re wet and slippery is very appealing, but I need to get home. I have a couple of errands to run before work, so I’ll just shower there.”
