Expressionate (Expressions Series Book 1)

by Lucy Smoke

  “Tax, you bastard! Is that you?” I turn my head as a tall, sandy-haired man approaches. He and Tax slap hands in the way that is strangely masculine and almost boyish at the same time.

  “Damien, how you doin’?”

  “Fine, been hanging ‘round Sarge’s a while and we never see you out here.” Damien’s eyes glance down and over me.

  Tax frowns over me at his friend. “I thought Sarge just moved in? Isn’t this his first house party here?”

  “Oh, Jesus, man, you don’t know?” Damien laughs.

  “Know what?” Tax narrows his gaze and pulls me closer. I put a hand on his chest, curious.

  “Sarge didn’t move in. He’s moving out! He’s heading up north. Got an offer in Indianapolis. Heading to the Midwest.”

  Tax scoffs. “Indiana is too close to Canada to be the Midwest. They’ll never admit it, but they’re bonafide northerners. But, wow, no, I didn’t know that.”

  “Yeah, this is his going away party. Well, one of many, I’m sure.” Damien grins. “He doesn’t leave until next month so there’ll probably be more parties. Maybe even some private ones, if you know what I mean.” He nudges Tax in the arm and laughs.

  Tax chuckles, but moves away, pulling me with him. “Well, in that case, I’m gonna head back inside with my girl and spend some time with the old man.”

  Damien finally graces me with a look. “Oh?” He tilts his head my way. “Didn’t know you had a girl.”

  This time, I’m the one frowning at him. I know he saw me. What does he mean? Before I can ask, though, Tax is speaking. “Yeah, this is Love.”

  “Your girl?”

  “Who else would I be?” I ask sharply.

  Damien raises a brow. “Wow, got attitude in this one.”

  “This one has a name,” I snap.

  “Yeah, yeah, all chicks do. Don’t make ‘em special.”

  “What the fuck is your problem, man?” Tax moves in front of me, staring at Damien.

  “Nothing, man, your bitch is the one with the problem. She’s got an attitude problem, not me.” Damien puts his hands up, but Tax isn’t having it. He shoves against his chest and Damien falls back into a couple of guys talking. They glare at us, but once they see Tax, they move away.

  “Dude! What the hell?” Damien slowly gets up, and he and Tax glare at each other.

  “Don’t fucking call her a bitch!” Tax yells.

  Even though I’m irritated by the guy, Tax is flushed with a seething rage. His eyes are shining with it, his fists shaking as he steps closer to Damien. I reach out and touch the hand closest to me. “Hey, forget it,” I say. “It’s fine.”

  “No,” he snaps, not looking at me, “it’s not.” Tax narrows his eyes at Damien and nods in my direction. “Apologize,” he orders.

  Damien gapes at him. “For what?” he demands. “I ain’t apologizing for shit.”

  People around us begin to stare, backing up even further as Damien and Tax face off. “Tax,” I say, “leave it. I don’t want to fight here.”

  Either he ignores me or he doesn’t hear me because the next thing I know, Tax is swinging. I blink, and Damien is on the ground, staring up at us. There’s a moment of complete and utter silence from those around us. The music is some odd cheery tone in the background – rough thumping beats that now seem out of place. Tax lands another punch to Damien’s jaw and that seems to spark something in Damien.

  Damien throws his own punch and it goes wide, not even landing as Tax leans back automatically. I shake my head. Tax obviously has more fighting experience than this man, but still. This isn’t right. I try to call out for Tax again, but he still isn’t hearing me. Tax and Damien roll on the ground, through the dirt alongside the concrete patio.

  “Someone go get Sarge!” a woman in the crowd calls out. I turn to do just that, but I’m stopped when Blake comes barreling out of the back doors heading straight for me.

  “Where—” he starts when he sees me, but then he cuts himself off and looks down. “Fuck! Tax!” Blake pushes through the people standing around and hauls Tax up by the back of his shirt. Tax yells and throws a punch. I gasp, but it doesn’t land. Blake leaps back before body slamming Tax to the ground and rolling him to his front, jerking his arms behind his back and sitting on them.

  “Go!” Blake snaps to Damien who gets to his feet in a flash and disappears around the side of the house.

  “Get the fuck off me!” Tax yells.

  “Calm the fuck down then, asshole!” But Blake does back off. Tax stands, panting as he glares around.

  “What the fuck are you pissants looking at?” he snaps. Everyone looks away and then slowly, they all go back to what they were doing before the fight.

  “What were you thinking?” Blake says, standing up.

  Dragging a hand through his hair, Tax growls low in his throat. Even though I’m worried – and confused – the sound goes straight to my pussy. “He insulted Love.”

  “So?” Blake brushes off his jeans. “You know that wasn’t cool, man. I don’t care what he said. Look – you fucking scared your girl. Go fucking take care of her. Forget Damien.”

  Tax looks at me and I jerk as his midnight eyes meet mine.

  “Shit.” He heads my way. “I’m sorry, Lovely.” He wraps an arm around me, pulling me to his chest. I inhale the scent of grass and dirt on his clothes, sighing and pressing my face closer.

  “It’s okay,” I say, when what I really want to ask is why? But he doesn’t need me to ask why. I’m sure hundreds of people have asked him why. Why does he need to hit something? Why is that violence inside him? The worst of it is, when Blake looks at us, he doesn’t frown, he doesn’t scoff. He looks at us as Tax holds me in his arms, and I can see happiness in his eyes. Not true happiness. Not the kind of happiness that is bone deep, but the kind that comes from caring for another person. It’s the look I know is on my face when I look at Trish.

  “Take care of him,” Blake whispers in passing. Tax is in the middle of saying something to me so I know he doesn’t hear. But I do.

  I interrupt Tax with a kiss. I will, I swear silently. I will take care of him. Because I believe him when he looks at me. I feel him when he touches me, and I don’t feel disgusting. I feel alive.

  “What the fuck happened out here, man?!” Tax and I separate as the loud voice of Sarge booms across the backyard.

  “Fuck,” Tax whispers against my lips.

  I smile and resist the urge to laugh. “Time to face the music,” I whisper back.

  “You’re a bad influence,” he says.

  “Nah, not yet, I’m not.” His gaze meets mine and he grins. I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to how handsome he is to me. Or how that grin reminds me of the way he was inside me last night.

  “Yeah,” he says, kissing me again quickly, “you so are.”

  Hours later, after Tax was sufficiently cuffed over the back of his head by Sarge – like an older brother scolding his younger sibling – the party has wound down and I’m heading into the kitchen, alone, as Sarge, Blake, and Tax sit around making fun of a passed out Cross, when a hand stops me. I turn and look up, stopping as my heart beat slows in my chest.

  “I thought that was you.” The face hasn’t changed – it’s hard to change much in just a few too-short years – but that only makes it easier to recognize him, even if I don’t know his name. “You’re Danny’s girl, right?” He grins – leers really – as he leans down. “How much are you going for now?”

  I take a step back. “I’m sorry, I think you must have me confused for someone else.” I’m proud of the way my voice remains steady as I let the lie slip out, even when I can feel my heart trying to sludge through the quicksand in my chest.

  “No. I’d recognize that face anywhere.” The guy puts a hand over my head, against the frame of the kitchen doorway. I glance up and down the hall, but there’s no one there. The party really has died out. There are only a few people gathered in the backyard and in the living room.
Everywhere else is a veritable ghost town. “I always wondered how Danny got such a pretty bird in his cage.” One lone finger touches my neck before skimming down over my top to the tattooed birds fluttering across the skin of my arm.

  “No,” I say again. “I—”

  “You know, Danny and I are still friends. Last I heard, though, he was living closer to the coast. What are you doing so far from home, little bird?”

  “I’m not with Danny anymore,” I say, giving up on the charade. “Take your hands off me.”

  “Awww, you don’t want to play with me if it’s not for Danny?” he asks. Dull brown eyes rake across my skin. I can feel slime oozing from the man’s pores. Have I had sex with him? I ask myself. I remember his face. I remember seeing him in Danny’s house, at one of the many parties Danny threw. But I don’t remember fucking him. That doesn’t mean anything, though. Half the time I was fucking Danny, I was drunk or I had my eyes closed.

  “I don’t do that anymore,” I say, “and I’m not with him.” I repeat it not just for the man in front of me, but for myself as well. It’s a reminder that Danny is my past and here, right now, Tax is my present.

  “Too bad.” He sighs, arm dropping off the frame. Turning towards the hall, he calls back to me over his shoulder, “I bet if you were with him, you’d fuck me then.”

  He laughs as he walks away, but I feel shattered because I know he’s right. I would because Danny would ask, and I would close my eyes and spread my legs. The only reason I’m no longer with Danny is because he took it too far. He pushed me over the edge and, thankfully, pushed me so far into the dark, I finally got the courage to climb out.

  19 years old…

  My head dangles over the side of the bed as Danny pushes his cock between my lips. Grunting above me, he powers forward. I close my eyes against the sight of his hairy balls as another man – one I can’t even see, slides his lips up the inside of my thigh.

  “God, she’s so smooth,” the other man says.

  “Isn’t she?” Danny laughs, his belly bumping my chin as he continues to fuck my mouth. “Go ahead, try her. She doesn’t mind.”

  “You sure?” the guy asks, but I can already hear the condom wrapper ripping in the background. I fist my hands in the bedspread as he pushes my legs apart and moves between them. A cock touches my entrance and slides inside.

  “Oh fuuuuck, man.”

  “Tight, isn’t it?” Danny asks. “Doesn’t matter how many times you fuck her, she stays tight. Believe me, this bitch is the real thing.”

  Shame chokes me harder than anything Danny could shove down my throat. Two pairs of hands touch me, sliding over my legs and over my breasts, squeezing my nipples. “She likes it,” Danny lies.

  I don’t. I don’t like it. I don’t want it. But Anne was right. This is the way I live. I need a man to take care of me. Danny is that man. It could be worse.

  The man below raises my legs, squeezing them together and anchoring them over one shoulder. My abs hurt as he pounds me, pushing my legs closer to my chest as he leans over me. “Watch it!” Danny snaps, stilling in my mouth. “Just – fuck – hurry up and come. I want her pussy now.”

  “What?” the guy grunts. “I thought you said I could take my time.”

  “When the fuck did I say that?” Danny snaps. I breathe slowly through my nose, smelling sex and sweat. Reaching up, I put my hands on Danny’s thighs and he backs up.

  “What?” he snaps down at me.

  “I need a breath,” I say, coughing and sucking down air.

  He growls and closes a meaty palm around my throat. “Did I fucking say you could breathe?” he asks. My eyes widen as he holds me down. The guy below stills.

  “Hey, man, calm down—”

  “Shut the fuck up!” Danny says. “In fact, why don’t you get the fuck out?” Danny releases me and reaches for the guy, yanking him away as my legs fall. The unknown man’s cock falls out of me.

  Blinking in confusion – and a little bit of fear – I sit up as Danny drags the guy out into the hall. I hear yelling and then a punch being thrown before the front door opens and slams. I pull the bed sheet into my lap and up to cover my breasts.

  “What the fuck are you doing?” Danny demands as he stops in the doorway.

  “What the fuck are you doing?” I snap back.

  Danny and I stare at each other for a long moment before he curses and comes into the room. “Fuck, Baby, I’m sorry. I just…” I watch him as he puts a knee on the edge of the mattress. His hairy chest moves in front of me. “I don’t know if I like letting you fuck other men anymore.”

  I narrow my gaze at him. “I don’t go out and pick up the assholes that you bring back and ask me to fuck.”

  “I know, I know.” Danny reaches for me, pulling me into his body. I go stiff. “You’re mine now, Baby. You’re all mine. I won’t do that anymore. Because you’re mine.” He cups my breasts and pulls back, pushing his face against mine until his lips are on my cheek, skimming across to my mouth.

  Pull back, a small part of myself screams. Don’t. But I’ve trained myself too well. I am his, I realize. He owns me. Was I ever even mine? When did I hand over the deed to my body? My soul?

  “Fuck, you feel so good,” Danny moans. I shiver as he shoves the sheet away and pulls my legs around his hips. I tilt my head back, looking up at the popcorn ceiling as he enters me. “I’ll never do that again,” he says against my throat. “You’re mine now. Only mine.”

  One. Two. Three.

  He pushes me back until my spine is pressed hard against the bed and he’s hovering over me, all broad shoulders and belly. My breath catches in my throat.

  Four. Five. Six.

  It’s almost over, I promise myself when he speaks again. “You’ll do whatever I say, won’t you?”

  I feel strangled, choking on my own supply of oxygen. Danny’s face hovers over me and I squeeze my eyes closed, continuing to count in my head. I count until I lose the numbers. I count until the strokes of Danny’s cock in my pussy drift away. Danny grunts and groans above me, gripping my shoulders and shoving me down until something inside hurts. I squeeze my eyes even tighter and try to count louder in my mind. But I can’t remember the numbers. I can’t breathe.

  My eyes pop open and Danny’s grinning face is right over me. He presses his lips to mine. I try shaking my head. No. I can’t breathe. His palm moves up, slithering between our bodies until he grips my chin and he slants his mouth over mine, pushing his tongue inside. It squirms between my teeth like a slimy little worm. I inhale through my nose, my eyes wide open. Tears gather at the corner of my eyes.

  Danny licks at my lips, his palm releasing my chin to press down on my throat. He’s done this before. It’s not new. But I can’t take it right now. I can’t breathe. He presses down, holding me as he humps and fucks into my pussy, grunting like a wild boar. Sweat drips down onto my chest, hollowing me out.

  Finally – after what feels like years of suffocation – he stills, groaning low in his throat as he releases. Danny’s hand comes away from my throat and he gets off the bed, leaving me – a used body – on top of the sheets. He smacks my side as he ambles into the bathroom. “Good fuck, baby.”

  When he’s gone, I sit up. Across the room, my gaze zeros in on a dangling scarf laying over a standing mirror. My eyes automatically avoid the sight reflected there. Instead, I focus on the scarf. The way it twists over from one side of the mirror to the other. I press my legs together, my head descending towards my knees when I feel it. Shocked I spread my thighs and stare down.

  I reach for my entrance, horrified when my fingers come away wet – wetter than usual. He didn’t use a condom. Danny always uses a condom. Nausea pools low in my stomach and I dive off the bed, rushing for the bathroom door. I throw it open, startling Danny as he finishes wiping his wet hands on a hanging towel.

  My knees hit the tiled floor hard as I bend my head over the toilet bowl and vomit into the porcelain. “Jesus!” Danny stares down
at me as I heave again. Only then does he scramble out of the room, trying to get as far away as possible. Sweat beads on my brow. No. No. No. No. I can’t. I feel my mouth filling with saliva. Heat flashes across my skin and the tears that were there before – tugging at the corners of my eyes – finally break free, spilling down my cheeks. I can’t have kids. I cup my hands over my stomach. No no no no no. I repeat it over and over until the no’s blur and combine into an endless stream. It’s what I’ve always wanted to say. It’s what has always been on the very tip of my tongue, just begging to be set free.

  I say it now. Whispering it to myself as I hang over the toilet, and when Danny comes creeping back in, grimace in place. I say it as I lie and tell him that I’m sick. He nods and tells me that I should probably take some Advil or something before he heads back into the bedroom. I stand up. I walk out. I put on clothes all while he climbs into the bed he just fucked me in. I tell him I’m going to get medicine. I leave. I go to the closest drug store and when the lady at the pharmaceutical desk looks at me with a raised brow, I stare back at her with dead eyes. I purchase the pill that will take away all chances, and dare to hope.

  I hope I’m not pregnant. I hope it eradicates any possibility for the future, though I know it won’t. I hope I can find a different direction to go when I walk out of the store. Because I’m not going back. I’m never going back again.

  18

  Tax

  I round into the hallway, still feeling like an ass about earlier. Sarge and Blake have obviously let it go, and Cross wasn't there so he doesn't give a shit, but I wonder about Love. I probably scared her. Even I hadn't expected my rage to take over so quickly. If I thought back on it, I could tell something was off about Damien the second I mentioned having a girl. He's not the type to get relationships. Why buy a cow and have to take care of it if you could just drink the milk for free? Those were once his words to me on the subject of relationships. I'm ashamed to admit that I used to agree. So, I knew he wouldn't take Love well. But the moment Damien opened his fucking mouth and called Love a bitch, I saw red.