Make Me Yours

by Kar, Alla

Taylor gives me a barley there smile. “Your break, sweetheart.”

  Narrowing my eyes, I lean over the table and break. One goes in. Taylor raises an eyebrow. “You’re pretty desperate yourself.”

  “Oh, really?”

  He gives me a quick nod. “To see me naked.” He walks toward me. “All you have to do is ask, Lay. I’d be happy to oblige.” I keep my eyes focused, but I don’t let the fact that he calls me Lay go unnoticed.

  Waiting for a remark, Taylor reaches behind him, taking his tight, grey shirt off. He tosses the fabric to the floor. I barely notice, because my eyes go to his chest. The tattoo I’d seen from earlier, wraps around his torso in a tribal pattern. My mouth is suddenly dry but I swallow the large dry lump and raise my eyes to his.

  “My turn again,” I say, clearing my throat.

  He smiles, leaning against the table. He nods. “Show me what you got, princess,” he whispers. I nod, bending over. I line up the stick. Taylor walks toward me, eyes watching closely. He smiles, tongue traveling over his bottom lip. “See something you like there, doll face?”

  I smirk. “Hardly,” I mumble. I strike, the corner of the ball tips the pocket and shoots out. I gulp. What the hell just happened? I never miss unless on purpose.

  Taylor laughs, and the hum in his chest is deep from behind me. “Uh oh, princess. Looks like it’s my turn.”

  Biting my lip, I stand up and smile. “Well, show me what you got then.” I let out a nervous laugh. Taylor grabs his stick, bends over the table and glances up at me. His gray eyes laughing at me.

  He pulls back and sends a solid right into the pocket. My heart hammers through my ribcage. He leans up, leaning on the pool stick. He cocks his head to the side. “Lose that shirt, baby girl. Looks like you’re not the only one that’s desperate to see someone unclothed.”

  Pushing back my embarrassment, I lift my chin and smile. I reach underneath my shirt, and pull the edge over my head. My cheeks are flaming, but I look him in the eye. “See something you like, princess?” I ask.

  Taylor’s gaze drops to my breasts. “You have no idea,” he whispers. “My turn again, right?” I nod, thanking God I wore a descent bra. Taylor glances down at my jeans shorts and smiles. He knows he is going to make it. Hell, I know he’s going to make it. We both know my shorts are coming off.

  He pulls back and sends the solid right into the pocket. He stands up, intertwining his hands behind his head. “Whew,” he blows out. “Looks like you’re gonna have to lose those jeans, too.” He shakes his head back and forth walking around the corner. “You need some help?” he asks, breathe coming in hot waves on my neck.

  I crane my neck to look up at him. He lifts an eyebrow that is pierced. Daddy’s rule plays in my head. Don’t get too close. I open my mouth, then tug on my lip with my teeth. Taylor turns me toward the table, hands on each side of me. “A deal is a deal,” I whisper.

  He nods, his tongue darting out to this bottom lip. “I wanna kiss you right now, Layla. Tell me I can kiss you,” he mumbles against my lips.

  My breath catches. I have no idea what the hell has come over me, but I can’t help but nod. I want to feel the softness of his lips on mine. “Do it,” I mumble.

  He leans in and the bubble of my dad’s rules burst around me. One hand grips my side, the other runs up through the back of my hair. I open my mouth, letting him trace his tongue on my bottom lip. I gasp as I feel the hard metal of his tongue ring. He pulls from me, breath in my ear, he runs his tongue against my earlobe. The hard object is cold on my skin. I let out a long sigh of want and grip his shoulders, bringing him down lower to my mouth. “Tell me stop, if you want me to stop,” he whispers. I shake my head, plunging my tongue inside his mouth. I dig my fingers into his solid arms, as he kisses me harder. He grunts, gripping my ass, sliding me onto the edge of the table. He steps between my legs, encircling them around his waist. My mind is fuzzy, he doesn’t look like a guy that would stop just because I want him to, but I can’t help but believe his words. Tell me stop, if you want me to stop.

  “Do you want to stop now?”

  “No,” I mumble.

  He moans, stroking his tongue with mine. He sucks in my bottom lip, biting on it, pulling it with his teeth. Wrenching away long enough to push my hair from laying on my chest over my shoulder, he grabs my breast with his opened palm. “Oh,” I gasp, leaning further back onto the pool table.

  He grabs me underneath my back, and pulls me to the center of the table, stopping when he hovers over me. After assaulting my mouth, he unclasps my bra, letting my breast fall from their support. The straps aren’t all the way off when he takes my nipple in his mouth.

  “Ah,” I moan, lifting my hips toward his.

  The medal of his tongue ring slides over the sensitive skin. Holy fuck. Gripping his hair, I push his head harder onto my breast. This is not right… but fuck does it feel good.

  His thigh separates my legs and pushes against my center. Taylor’s calloused hands travel down my flat stomach to my zipper. Oh, God. My heart is hammering. I haven’t been this intimate with a guy in years. Dad’s rules were the only thing in my mind after he passed. Don’t get to close. Never get caught. I was both. Slipping his fingers inside my jeans, between the fabric of my underwear and my skin, finding what he needs he stroked my softly. “You’re so wet for me,” he whispers so light, I’m not sure he has even said it.

  “Taylor,” I moaned into his mouth, legs shaking with want, with need.

  “God, you’re so fucking beautiful. Please, let me take care of you,” he whispers into my ear, fingers touching me slightly. His tongue darts out to my breast, again, sending me over the edge. I wrap my legs tighter around him. My mind is racing, I just came on Taylor Jack’s fingers. I want to hide in humiliation, but it’s too late now.

  God, you’re so fucking beautiful. My mind is a daze, I push against his shoulder until I’m sitting upright. His eyes are dilated, breathing heavily. “You want me to stop?” he asks.

  I nod, scooting off the table, reaching for my shirt. “Layla,” Taylor says, sliding off next to me. “It’s okay, you can still stay. If you want to stop it’s fine.”

  Anger and embarrassment swarms my body. This isn’t what was supposed to happen. I can’t get close. With my lifestyle, it’s easier just to keep to myself. No extra baggage, nothing for collateral. Dad learned the hard way. He broke his number two rule: Never Let Anyone In. Mom’s gone because of him. Dad’s gone because of him. I won’t let the same thing happen to me.

  I zip my jeans, and pull on my shirt. “Layla,” Taylor says, grabbing my arm. “Everything is okay, we can still hang out. Let’s go in the living room and watch TV.” His eyes are round, huge balls of gray steel.

  I pull my arm away and look up at him. He is breathing heavily, bare chest rising and falling quickly. A trickle of sweat falls from his head down over his tattooed torso. “I have to go,” I say, jetting out of the room. I get to the front door and Taylor places his palm on it, slamming it shut.

  “Let me take you home. You can’t walk, it’s ten fucking miles.” I’m biting my lip. I need to leave before I pounce on him. I need to leave before I slid those jeans off of his slender waist and beg him to take me. I need to leave before I suffer anymore humiliation than right now.

  “I’ll catch the bus,” I say.

  “Just tell me what I done wrong? Did I hurt you?” he asks, grabbing my chin and making me look at him.

  His gray eyes are so…smoldering. “No,” I yell out, slapping his hand away. I open the door and head toward the street.

  Chapter Two

  A slam of a door brings me up right in my bed. I blink twice, taking in my surroundings. My bedroom. Whew. A small meow comes from below. I glance down at Mittens, who is staring up at me, yellow eyes wide. “Hi, sweetie,” I say, offering my hand.

  She rubs her head against my palm and trots off toward my cracked open bedroom door. Cindy must be home. My alarm clock beside my bed tells me Cindy had a wonde
rful night with…Oh no. I rip my feet out from my tangled sheets and stand up. Holy Hell, I almost had sex with a guy last night. Not just any guy, but Taylor, who makes my skin prickle. A guy I just meet. I rub my head and run my fingers through my tangled blonde hair. What the hell has gotten into me? Maybe he was drunk, maybe he forgot. Wishful thinking.

  Biting my lip, I walk out of my bedroom toward the kitchen. I hear Cindy talking and I figure she is on the phone until I walk into the kitchen and my mouth drops open.

  Cindy is standing over our little bistro table, handing out donuts. Brett is gobbling down his second, since I’ve been standing here. But, it’s not their pigging out that is startling me, it’s who is standing beside them, eyes dragging up and down my legs.

  “Oh!” Cindy says, looking up. “Glad to know you made it home okay, runaway.” She smiles, her hair in a messy bun on top of her head.

  I bite my lip and narrow my eyes. “What are you doing here?” I ask. Brett must know I’m not talking to him because he glances over at Taylor who is still staring at me.

  “Don’t be rude, Layla. We went to get donuts,” Cindy says.

  Taylor tilts his head to the side and crosses his arms. I just now notice that he’s wearing a sleeveless gray, tank top and running shorts. His tattoos run underneath his shirt and down his bicep. “Can I talk to you in private?”

  Can we talk in private? I want to strangle him. Did he not get it last night? I place my hands on my hips and narrow my gaze on him. I’m suddenly aware that I’m only wearing a long night shirt. It’s one of my dad’s old shirts.

  “No,” I say, turning and walking back to my room. I slam the door but it catches. Taylor is standing in the doorway, hands on the doorframe, his tall body taking up most of the view.

  “I say yes. We need to talk about last night,” he mumbles, shutting the door behind him. I hear the lock click and my heart races. “Look, Layla.” He clears his throat. “If you’re not into me that’s fine…I just need to know that I didn’t hurt you. That I didn’t do anything wrong. You wanted me, too, right?”

  Oh, he didn’t do anything wrong. And fuck yes, I wanted him. That’s the problem. He’d felt so good against me. So firm, so experienced. So satisfied with my needs being met.

  I ignore his latter question. “I’m not into you,” I say, crossing my arms. His eyes momentarily widen, then he presses his lips into a hard straight line. He is pissed. Mr. King of Campus isn’t used to being let down. Well, tough shit. It’s a first time for everything.

  For a few long, uncomfortable seconds he stares at me. Then he lifts an eyebrow and a smile lifts from the corner of his mouth. He doesn’t seem like he believes me and it makes me angry. “I’m not,” I blurt out.

  He smiles. A full blown, teeth shimmering, smile. “Okay, then, Layla.” He grins. “As long as I didn’t hurt you.” He turns and walks out of my room. I stand looking at the closed door for a few minutes.

  Bastard!

  I sit on my bed, waiting for them to leave. When I hear the click of the front door and their muffled voices disappear, I stand up. Cindy is standing at my door before I can get half way there.

  “What the fuck, Layla,” she says, eyes wide, hands on her hips. She has her clothes on from last night, wrinkled and her shirt ripped a little. Wait! That’s my shirt!

  “Is that my shirt?”

  She presses her lips together, hard.

  “What?”

  She throws her hands in the air. “What is wrong with you? What exactly happened last night? Taylor says you left. But, he didn’t say why? Did you…?” she asks, raising an eyebrow.

  I shake my head. “No, we didn’t…we almost did, but…”

  “But what?”

  “I didn’t think it was a good idea, that’s what.”

  Her brown eyes bulge out of her head. “You’re serious? You left Taylor Jacks naked and horny? What is up with you? You never date? What’s the big deal? Wait!” she yells. “Are you a…virgin?” she asks, whispering, cupping a hand over her mouth. She acts like it’s a bad word.

  “Of course I’m not,” I say. “I’ve slept with guys, just not since I graduated.”

  “Three years? What are you like a lesbian?”

  I stare blankly at her. “No, I’m not. It’s just,” I scratch my head. “It’s just not a good idea for me. I don’t need the baggage.”

  She shakes her head. “You sound like a guy. You’re delusional. He is fucking smoking, or did the hustling last night impair your vision?”

  Sighing, I grab my work shirt and push past her. I swing the bathroom door open and start to strip. “You’ve got the greatest legs, and the nicest ass. What’s up with you? Why don’t you just tell me what the real reason is that you want get close to anyone?”

  I pull off my bra and slip into the shower. “I told you,” I say, shutting the shower curtain. “Now, it’s done. So, please just drop it. I don’t have to see him anymore.”

  She snorts. “Where have you been this semester? He is in our Literature of the South class, Layla.”

  The shampoo bottle slips from my fingers, hitting the floor with a thud. “No fucking way!”

  I can even tell she is smiling through the lime green shower curtain. “And, besides, they’re coming over tonight to study for our test tomorrow. Have a good day at work,” she says, while I yell at her to come back.

  Work sucks. I stand behind a counter with this stupid visor on and serve overly tired college students coffee. “You look tired,” Eric says, bringing me back from my pity party.

  I glance over at him. He is staring over at me, head in his hands. His big round blue eyes are wide with humor. “Get laid?” he asks, a smile rising on his lips.

  “Funny, ass,” I say, sitting up straight.

  He laughs, and brushes his shoulder against mine. Eric is the hottest gay guy, beside Matt Bomer, that I’ve ever seen. His high cheek bones make me want to scream and not to mention the muscle to body fat ratio. “Oh, come on, Layla. It’s just a joke. What did you do last night, huh?”

  I bite my lip and pretend to wipe off the counter. No one has been in here in over an hour, it’s as clean as it’s going to get. “I went out…played some pool…then went back to one of Cindy’s hook ups apartment. Ran out on a guy, then found him in my apartment this morning…with donuts.”

  Eric is holding back a smile, then burst out laughing. “Jesus, Lay. Do you ever give a guy a chance? Maybe, you’re not playing for the right team.”

  Jesus, does everyone think I’m a lesbian? “I’m not a lesbian.”

  “Lesbi-honest,” he whispers.

  I laugh. Eric and I have watched Pitch Perfect, way too many times. He is actually another person I didn’t mean to get too close to. It’s not part of my plans, to get close to anyone. The part-time job at the coffee shop doesn’t pay much, it’s more of a time waster. It doesn’t give me too much time to think. I like that. My main money comes from my hustling, and I’m good at it. Eric just wouldn’t leave me alone. He just talked, talked, laughed and I couldn’t not be friends with him.

  “Ha ha,” I say. “I’m just not into dating right now.”

  Eric raises a perfectly plucked black eyebrow. “No girl is not into dating. Just like a guy isn’t not into sex.”

  I point to myself. “Not this girl.”

  Eric rolls his eyes, and pours himself a drink. “Who was this guy, anyway? He better not be hot, or I’ll kick your ass. I know you need to have some comfort,” he smiles, “too.”

  I shrug and play with the end of my hair. “Just some guy we met at the pool hall.” A few customers come in throughout the day, but it’s not really busy. We are getting ready to close when the doorbell rings and I glance up.

  My eyes widen and my heart slows to a standstill. Taylor and Brett walk in, laughing. Taylor glances at me and a smile crawls up his face. “Hey, Lay,” he says, leaning over the counter. His freshly showered scent overwhelms me. It aggravates me.

  Eric mumbles s
omething underneath his breath. “What can we get you guys?” He wipes his hands on the towel and grins.

  Brett rambles something off but I’m too busy having a staring match with Taylor. “Fine, Taylor. What can I get you?”

  His gaze drops to my breasts. I know he doesn’t get a good look because of the coffee shop, button down I’m wearing. “I think you know what I want.”

  Eric intakes a small gasp and turns to start getting Brett’s coffee ready. I cock an eyebrow. “I think you better tell me what you want to drink, before I call campo to have you escorted out.”

  Taylor wipes his thumb on the outside of his lip, leans back and looks down at me. “Oreo Java,” he says, licking his lips.

  I could slap the smug look off his face. “Fine,” I blurt out, turning and grabbing a cup. Eric turns his back to the boys and widens his eyes.

  “Please, tell me that is not who you left naked in his bed, wanting you.”

  “He wasn’t naked…not all the way at least.” And it wasn’t his bed, it was the pool table.

  Eric gasps, grabbing my wrist. “That’s Taylor--,”

  “Yeah, I know, Taylor Jacks. He. Is. Just. A. Boy,” I say, squirting whipped cream on the top of his coffee. I fight the urge to spit in it.

  Eric widens his eyes. “He is a God, look at him.”

  “Whatever, Eric.”

  I turn, and Taylor is staring at my ass. “See something you like, princess?” I ask, slamming the coffee down in front of him.

  He takes a sip of his coffee and nods. “Oh, I see it alright. Just can’t quit touch it yet. I’ll get it though.” He winks, slides me a ten and follows Brett out of the coffee shop. Eric’s mouth is hanging wide open when the door finally shuts.

  “Shut the hell up, Lay. You almost got it on with Taylor Jacks. The champion for three years running at Fight Night. The ladies’ magnet on campus and the deepest, darkest secret crush I’ve ever had. God,” he shakes his head, “You’re luckier than you’ll ever know.” He places his elbow on the counter, eyes wide. “Tell me everything.”