Expressionate (Expressions Series Book 1)

by Lucy Smoke

  Tax slaps the knobs and the water cuts off. He steps out of the shower with me anchored to his front and sets me down on the counter again. This time, I don't let go. I keep him close to me, I hold him against my breasts until his eyes heat and his mouth lowers, his lips meeting mine in a tangle of wet skin and broken thoughts. He steals away my memories and shatters the residual darkness lingering within me. My pain is still deep within, but he scorches me from the inside out. His pain is there, too and it greets mine like an old friend, like lost lovers, like two halves of one soul that have been separated for years.

  His lips press into mine, opening my mouth, opening my soul. Our tongues twist together. My breathing increases. I press as close to him as I possibly can, my hands reaching up into his hair, gripping it, keeping him prisoner. My legs clench around him, my pussy wet and wanting. When I pull away and open my eyes, I realize that I'm crying. My cheeks are wet and it's not from the shower. My vision is misty and I'm gasping for air. Tax looks at me, his cavernous eyes boring deep before one of his hands grips the back of my head. I cry out as he pulls me close and wraps his arms around me, stealing me into his chest. He's so new in my life – barely a fledging of a relationship and yet, this is the safest I've ever felt.

  20

  Love

  I wake with a face between my legs. I gasp as Tax – sensing that I’m awake – widens my thighs further with a palm on either side and then dives back in. The stroke of his tongue as he pushes it up into my pussy does crazy wicked things to my mind. My hands make their way into his hair before I even realize I’ve moved, and he rewards me by sucking my clit into his mouth and laving it with his tongue. I cry out and undulate my hips, begging for more.

  “You taste like raindrops, Lovely,” Tax whispers, teasing me with his mouth. He slicks his tongue over my flesh, thrusting up into my pussy and clasping my ass in his hands. Tax’s fingers slowly make their way to my core. He has a guitarist’s fingers through and through even though his voice is his true instrument. His fingers, the pads calloused, slide through my lower lips and I arch off the bed as he flicks his dangerously talented tongue against my clit back and forth until I’m crying out and yanking on his hair hard. My climax sinks into my bones and leaves me sagging and weak in his arms.

  Tax pulls his fingers out of me and then leans back. I look up and once he’s sure my eyes are on him, he pushes his fingers – the same fingers that had been inside of me – between his lips and sucks off the remainder of my orgasm. My cheeks heat as I swallow roughly against the sudden pressure in my throat. Tax climbs the rest of the way up my bed and then presses a lingering kiss to my lips. I open my mouth when his tongue pushes out. I can taste myself on him.

  When he pulls away, Tax sighs and leans his forehead against my chest, between my breasts. “I needed that,” he says, sagging into me. Anyone else and I’d feel trapped, but right now I feel like I’m cloaked in a warm, safe blanket.

  I remember how many times I’ve been in this situation. Having sex, letting someone touch me because I once thought it was a means of survival. But now, it feels like I need it for a different type of survival. I wonder what he would say if I told him that. I wonder what he would say if I finally told him about my past.

  We lay there lazily as the day drags on. Sometimes, he’ll roll off me to head to the bathroom or he’ll bring me something from the kitchen, but for the most part we don’t leave my room. And the entire day, he makes nasty little comments about my bed.

  “Fuck this tiny ass mattress,” he snaps, his feet hanging off the end.

  “Are you really complaining?” I ask as I look down at him. Once again, he has his head pillowed between my breasts.

  Tax sighs, the warm air from his mouth blowing across my nipple – it hardens in the span of a millisecond. “You’re right,” he says. I can hear the smile in his voice, the bastard. He leans up – his sparkling midnight gaze hot. “I should be taking advantage.”

  My mouth pops open on a moan as Tax’s lips descend on my nipples. He laves and then sucks them into his mouth, gently biting down – just hard enough to send bolts of pleasure coursing through me. “Tax,” I pant, “I need you. Now.” I punctuate that last bit as I lean up and press my lips to his, hard.

  “Roll over,” he groans. I do as he bids, scrambling up on my knees. “I’m going to buy you a goddamn California King,” he threatens and a split second later, he’s inside me. Both of us still for a moment, our panting breaths and the hot air the only things between us as he takes his time dragging his cock out of me and then slowly thrusting back in.

  “You’re a fucking downpour, Lovely,” he says as his cock tunnels into me again and again. I’m shaking like a leaf, shivering under the intensity of his weight and power. I don’t feel like I’m drowning, I feel like I’m flooded. With emotion. With lust. With love.

  “You’re the goddamn rain and you can fall all the fuck over me any time you want, Lovely.” I groan as Tax’s hands grip my waist and he wastes no time fucking me. Again and again, he uses his grasp on my skin to slide me off his dick and then power back into me. One hand releases me only to slide around my side, up to my breast. He pinches my nipple until I arch up and away – the pain confusing because it feels so fucking good and also biting at the same time. The real shock to me is that it actually feels like something.

  I’m so used to sex just being sex. I’m used to it leaving me empty and hollow. But it’s not like that with Tax. I’m dripping wet, probably soaking the sheets and his hands on my skin feel like licks of flames.

  “Tax. Tax. Tax.” I’m stumbling through this thing between us like I’m half-crazed and blind. All I can see is him. All I can feel is him. All I can say is his name.

  “That’s it.” His breath is warm in my ear as he urges me to arch back even further until every time he thrusts into me, the sound of my ass meeting his hips echoes around the room back to my ears, eliciting even more of a reaction from my pussy. “Come for me, Baby,” he says, “I want to feel you clench on my dick and know I made it happen.”

  I can’t stop it. I can’t hold back. I cry out as he releases me, and I drop down onto the mattress. The rippling buzz of fireworks inside my pussy spans outward until I can feel the twinges and tingles in the tips of my toes and fingers. I scream at the same time that Tax rips out of me. I can hear the grunts working their way in his throat as he comes across my back, hot splashes of his orgasm hitting my skin and sliding into the middle of my back and down to the crack of my ass.

  “I’ll be right back,” Tax says, panting. He quickly yanks on his pants and then heads out into the hallway. A split second later and he’s back with a wet washcloth. I flinch when it touches my skin, not expecting it to be cold. “Sorry,” he murmurs as he finishes wiping and tosses the cloth into my laundry basket across the room before crawling behind me and then lifting me onto his chest. He sighs. “That’s better.”

  Outside my window, the sun starts to set. The sky darkens, colors splashing across the canvas of the world. It’s been a full twenty-four hours since the text messages came through. Inside the room, I feel wrong. My heart is racing in my chest and my eyes travel to the cellphone laying on the floor – my cellphone. There can be sex in a relationship and there can be sex without the attachments. That’s not what this is. Tax has made that clear.

  Almost as if he’s reading my mind, Tax’s hands lift to my hair and he trails his fingers through the strands and over my spine. “Just tell me, Lovely.”

  “I don’t want you to hate me,” I admit.

  “Is it really that bad?”

  My mind blanks. Is it? I ask myself. The answer is, “I don’t know.”

  “Lovely,” he prods. I realize I’ve drifted off after my statement.

  I suck in a quick breath and then blow it out, sending a strand of my hair floating up. “It’s not an easy story to tell.” He rubs my back, waiting. Patient, Tax isn’t. So, the fact that he’s waiting now…it means something. I sigh.

>   “I left home when I was sixteen,” I say, my eyes focusing on the typewriter on my desk. I stare at it and remember that it was a gift – something given without conditions. Even if I find myself unable to finish my story or his lyrics, Tax isn’t going to take it away – Tax isn’t going to go away. He’ll wait, I assure myself. He’ll be patient.

  I let the words tumble out of my lips. I tell him about Anne, about Danny, about Todd and what he said – about the things that I did. On several occasions I feel his fists ball up against my back, but he remains quiet. He doesn’t rush me, he doesn’t pressure me. He simply strokes my back, tightens his hands in my hair and then breathes through his nose when I get to some of the sticky parts. Maybe I should be scared by his silence, but for a change, it feels good to actually be the one who isn’t.

  21

  Tax

  Now Anne’s here in Charlotte and I guess Danny is texting me again, too.”

  I can’t explain the sheer amount of rage festering in my chest right now. It should be impossible for one human body to contain so much anger – I can practically smell blood on the air, that’s how violent I’m feeling.

  An itchy and unsettling numbness is burrowing into my limbs. My arms are around Love and after listening to her story, I don’t know whether I want to crush her to me and erase every bad thing that’s happened to her or shake her. I need a good fight. I’m itching for it, but I can’t leave her here like this.

  “Are you going to say anything?” she asks.

  I think about it, stroking my fingers along the ridges of her spine. Love is no small, petite little girl; she’s curvy and thick, but I can still feel the bumps that run the length of her back. “My dad made me fight when I was a kid.”

  The words fall like cracking open a can of expired worms that slide out onto the floor and squish, disgustingly, beneath my feet. She doesn’t look at me, but her hand grips mine a little tighter and I press a quick kiss into her hair. “He convinced me that he was too sick to work. I was young and foolish, and I didn’t realize that all of the ‘illnesses’ he had were made up. I just knew that when I did it, he magically felt better, like the whole world he supposedly had on his shoulders was gone. That fake world wasn’t gone, though.” I laugh without humor. “He just dumped it on me. He was too lazy to just get a fucking job. So, he made me fight and told me if I did and won – which I almost always did – then we wouldn’t have to live like we did.” Her fingers are stroking my skin and I feel it tamping down my need to shove my fist through a wall, to make myself or someone else bleed.

  “I fought a lot, broke my nose a couple of times, but mostly, I won. I beat the shit out of a lot of kids. Kids bigger than me, kids smaller and skinnier than me, it didn’t matter. I broke arms, legs, noses. I didn’t care what I did as long as I won,” I take another breath. “Then I realized that no matter how many times I won, we didn’t leave. We never moved away.”

  Her breath is warm against the skin of my throat, and she shivers when I sigh and press a kiss to her temple. I hum out a breath, wishing I had a guitar in my hands if not a face under my fist. I squeeze Love’s arms and tuck her into my side as I slide over, turning and curling around her, spooning up against her luscious backside.

  “What did you do?” she finally asks. “How did you end up moving away? Why did you come back?”

  I tangle my finger in one of the strands of her hair and bring it up to my face. She smells like something clean and chest clenching, coconut and the sea breeze maybe, her shampoo probably. I want to bury my face in her hair and hold her close. I shift her upwards and, when she doesn’t protest, I do just that – bury my face in her hair as I speak.

  “I left. I left my mom, who was an alcoholic, and I left my dad. I even left Ally.” That part really gets to me and I clutch her harder, but she doesn’t complain. She doesn’t judge me either like most would. “It took a long time for me to come back. I hated myself for leaving Ally there, I still hate myself. I was a kid without any idea of what to do. Once I found a half way decent job and a small roach infested, hole-in-the-wall apartment, I came back. I knew that what I had, Ally probably wouldn’t want. I knew it wasn’t good enough for her. What I had was shit, but it was better than what Mom and Dad had. When I came back, Mom was passed out on the floor and Ally was locked up in her room.” I blow out a breath, holding her tighter. I’m positive I’m hurting her, but she doesn’t complain. Love merely flips over and stares up at me, waiting for the rest. “I don’t know what happened to my dad,” I admit. “He wasn’t there, and he didn’t show up when I let Ally out and then told her to pack her shit.”

  I recall stepping over my mom’s body in the living room. There was a shiny purple bruise on her cheek and spittle pooling under the opening of her mouth. The rage I hadn’t experienced since I stopped fighting had descended upon me then. I didn’t stop or even look back as I pulled a skinny and shaking Ally out of the shithole trailer and took her to my car. I didn’t even bother closing the front door as I walked out.

  It had taken weeks for me to fill out all of the appropriate papers to make sure there was no way either of them could walk back into my life and demand Ally back. The bitch and bastard hadn’t even shown up to court and Ally was mine – mine to take care of, mine to protect.

  I look down at Love and her powerful green eyes are watching me. I want her to be mine, too. When our gazes connect, she leans forward and her scent envelopes me. I grip her upper arms harder than I should, but either she doesn’t care or she doesn’t notice. Her lips connect with mine, and she is the sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted. I roll and push her beneath me and her breathing kicks up a notch. She’s as into this as I am. I know she is because with every breath we take, we reach for each other. Her hands on my skin, nails digging into my flesh. I want her to draw blood, a reminder that I’ll bleed for her if she needs me to. I’ll fucking kill the prick who sent that fucking picture if she needs me to.

  I kiss the hollow of her throat and run my hands slowly down her sides. I slip my palms beneath her back and feel the softness of her skin. Her breasts are amazing, pale and creamy, topped with little ripe, rosy tips. I skim my fingertips across her stomach, loving the way she shivers under my touch. I can feel her heart pounding. I replace my fingertips with my mouth and I run my tongue across the section of her abdomen that meets with the edge of her pelvic bone.

  “I’m writing a song,” she gasps out. I pull back and those eyes of hers – eyes wider than the damn universe – look up at me. Her small pink tongue comes out and dips across her lower lip. Little Tax waves like a fucking boy scout flag, ready and raring to go.

  Love pushes against my chest until I’m sitting back on my heels – Little Tax standing at attention. I try to will my fucking prick down, but all it sees is Love’s tight fucking ass and hips made for grabbing. She gets off the bed and then walks over to her computer, which is sitting on her desk next to the typewriter I got her. She flips open the lid of the laptop and then scrolls through her documents.

  “I’ve been trying to get it right for ages,” she says, “it’s driving me crazy.”

  “And you’re telling me about it now?” I ask, gesturing down to my cock.

  She glances over her shoulder at me, an honest to goodness smile on her lips. “It finally hit me – if I’m writing a song for you, the reason why it’s not coming together is probably because I don’t have any input.”

  I slap a hand to my forehead and then rub it directly down the rest of my face. Fuck if I won’t fucking do anything for that fucking smile of hers. I get off the bed and snag my pants from the night before – pulling them up and tucking Little Tax into the waistband before grabbing my shirt as well and sliding it over my head.

  Striding to the desk, I lift her out of her chair, sit down and then plop her onto my lap. It’s a strange thing, being fully clothed with a naked Love on my lap and it doesn’t exactly help the Little Tax issue, but as I lean in to smell her hair, I wouldn’t change this m
oment for the world.

  “Here it is,” she says, turning my attention to the computer screen. I have to rip my eyes away from her naked curves in my lap to do so – but if it will make her happy. I turn my attention to the computer screen and read.

  I drown in the sound of your silence

  and I break on the weight of your love.

  Coldness and flame never hated

  what element that the other was.

  Though you may be my destruction,

  I want to fall deep into your hell.

  Stealing away into the night,

  I’ll be your living shadow

  Even if it tears me apart.

  Breaking even…in my shattered weakness

  I see you

  My heaven

  And hell.

  The words are beautiful, like a sad story of two souls, lost together. I look down at her and I think that’s what we are. Lost souls.

  “I’m not sure if it’s the worst yet or the best,” she admits, turning to look at me.

  I notice the freckles across the bridge of her nose, spilling onto both cheeks, making the cream of her natural skin tone glow under the darker spots. I reach up and brush a finger down the length of her nose and she blinks in confusion.

  “Tax?”

  I pull her forward and take her mouth, capturing it and slipping my tongue inside. She moans and melts into my arms, turning until she sits astride my lap and my cock – barely restrained by my jeans, pushes up, wanting out, wanting her.

  “Tax.” She kisses me, her hot pussy rubbing up against me. “Tax.” Her breasts brush my chest, hard nipples against the fabric of my shirt. I tear it over my head again and let it fall as I slam my mouth back into hers. “Tax.” Every time she says my name, my need heightens.

  “Fuck.” I shift, standing as Love’s legs clamp around my thighs. I bite her lower lip, drawing it into my mouth and suckling on her flesh. She moans, the sound going straight to my cock. Little Tax jumps in my fucking pants as though he can rip through the fabric to get to her.