Make Me Yours

by Kar, Alla

  I nod. Taylor hands me a sandwich, a Coke and a bag of chips. “I worked hard on that, so you better eat it all. My cooking skills are too good to waste.”

  I open the bag of chips and smile. “You must have slaved over it.” I roll my eyes. I’m half way through with my sandwich when Taylor clears his throat.

  “Tell me about you,” he says, softly.

  I shrug. “What do you want to know?”

  He scratches his chin. “Where are you from?”

  “Dallas.”

  “Why Ohio then? What brought you up here?” he asks.

  I wanted to get as far away as I could from my family’s memories. “Scholarship,” I lie. I did get one, but that’s not the reason at all.

  “What about your mom and dad? Didn’t they want you to stay closer to them?” Taylor’s eyes are boring into me. This is the part where he asks what happened and gets that look of pity on his face. Tells me it’s okay and that he’s sorry. I hate it. It’s just as uncomfortable for me as them.

  “Died, both of them,” I say, blankly.

  Taylor is utterly still for a few seconds. “I’m sorry,” he says. “What happened?”

  Fear swarms my heart and it begins to beat rapidly against my rib cage. I try to block out the scene from my head, but it pushes back against me anyway, refusing to let me be.

  ***

  “You cheated,” I yelled, shoving against my dad’s chest.

  He smiled and ran his fingers through his salt and pepper hair. “I did not. You’re just a sore loser, Layla. I taught you better than that.”

  I laughed. “And grandpa taught you better than to cheat!”

  Dad rolled his eyes and threw his cards on the table. “I should have known you would catch me. Only because you’re so good at cheating yourself.”

  “You two better keep it down in here,” my mom’s soft voice echoed through the kitchen. She walked through the swinging kitchen door, holding a tray of cookies. “I wouldn’t want the neighbors to call the police again.” She crinkled her nose. “Prudes,” she whispered.

  I took a few cookies and glanced up at my mom. She was staring down at my dad. She had the simplest, shyest smile I’d ever seen. She had long legs, blonde hair and was the quiet type. I looked just like her. But, I wasn’t the quiet type. My dad wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her into her lap. They didn’t seem to take their eyes of each other, even when the first thump on the door sounded.

  “Ya’ll gonna get that?” I asked, pointing toward the door.

  Mom stood up, and straightened her apron. “Hey, kiddo. Why don’t you go get us something to drink to go with these cookies?” Dad asked, wiggling his eyebrows.

  “Sure, Dad.” I walked into the kitchen, drug out two cups and reached for the refrigerator when a shot fired into the air.

  I dropped the glass, it scattered on the tile floor. I scampered toward the swinging door. Mom was lying on the floor, while Dad cried over her body. “Layla,” he whispered, never looking away from mom. “Never get caught, baby. Never get too close,” he whispered. I knew the man thought he was talking to Mom, and I know he hoped I would hear. I did.

  The man in the black hoodie pulled the gun up slowly from his side and pressed it against my dad’s temple. “You son of a bitch. You fucking hustling son of a bitch.” The shot rang through the air.

  I gasped and the hooded figure glanced up at me, I’ll never forget his blue eyes and the scorpion tattoo on his face. Frightened, angry and shaking, I ran from the back door and into the neighbor’s yard, I climbed high into their tree and hid. The hooded guy walked underneath the tree for ten minutes before he disappeared into the night.

  I stayed there all night, shivering, cold and crying. The Peterson’s son Joseph found me in the tree the next morning, crying, curled into a tight ball. That was the day I remembered everything my dad ever said, and he’s rules played loudly in my ears. I was going to do well, and do it right.

  ***

  “Lay,” Taylor’s voice brings me back to the present. “Are you okay?” he asks, brows furrowed, hand wrapped around my upper arm.

  I nod. “Car accident. You wanna go swim?” I stand up and dust my jeans off. Taylor has a concerned look on his face but he nods and shrugs out of his shirt.

  I’m momentarily distracted watching his muscles tighten. “You gonna take yours off now, princess?” He raises his pierced eyebrow.

  I pull off my tank top, and my jeans short, and throw them to the side. I feel we’re not here to swim at all, that we’re here to stare at each other. Taylor licks his lips and eyes me. “Very impressive,” he whispers, grabbing my hand.

  I glance down at his abs. “Meh.”

  He throws his head back and laughs. It’s loud, carefree and addictive. I suddenly want him to keep laughing. “We’ll see,” he says, winking.

  He drags me to the water, and I screech as the water sinks us in lower. Taylor grips my waist and pulls me close to him. “It’s fucking freezing, Tay.”

  He smiles and pulls me closer to the water fall. “Once you get in and get used to it, it’ll be fine.” He pulls me as my body adjusts to the coldness. The water laps at my face, and I try to keep my head up. We go under the waterfall and behind it is a hollowed out cave.

  “Wow, this is kind of spooky, Taylor.” Taylor lifts himself up onto the edge of the rock and helps me up beside him. Our feet dangle in the water. The hum of the water hitting the lake below is peaceful.

  “Yeah, but it’s kind of awesome,” he says, running his fingers through his dark, brown hair. A few splatters of water are still lingering on his head and it makes him look like he is freshly showered. The thought makes me blush. “Are you blushing, Lay?”

  I shake my head. “Why would I be?” I ask.

  He lifts and eyebrow and brings his lips to the hollow part beneath my ear. “You tell me, sweetheart. You thinking about our one kiss last night? Or the back seat of the Mustang?”

  I turn my head to keep from smiling, why does he make my stomach twist like this? “It was hardly worth remembering, Taylor.” I lie. We both know it was worth remembering. Hell, it’s worth savoring for the rest of my life.

  He scoots closer to me, his fingers sliding against my bra strap. “Maybe, I can give you something worth remembering this time,” he whispers, his tongue gliding against my neck.

  I grip the rocks beneath me, my body warming from his touch. “Maybe that’s not such a good idea,” I say, barely getting my sentence out.

  “Maybe you should let loose, and let me take care of you…again. Nothing you don’t want to do,” he says.

  I close my eyes and enjoy the way his hand grips my waist, and his tongue glides over the strap of my bra. “Maybe, just one kiss,” I say.

  Taylor smiles into my neck, grabs my waist and pins me underneath him. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you like my one kisses.”

  I try to focus in on his face, but I’m head is spinning with possibilities. He could have me once, right? I’ve had one night stands with people before? No strings attached, needs met and then they’re gone, the way I like it. “One time, Taylor,” I mumble. “Just once,” I say.

  His tongue travels down my cleavage but he stops abruptly. He furrows his brow and looks down at me. “You’re saying you want to have sex with me? Only once?”

  I nod. “Once.”

  He grabs my breast. “No, not once. Not twice. Neither would be enough for me, Lay. Don’t ya get it? I want you.”

  Don’t ya get it? I want you. The words sink into my skull so deeply, I’m afraid I’ll never stop replaying those words. I want him, too. I want things I can’t have. I shake my head, and screw my eyes shut. “I can’t. I can’t do that, it’s against the rules.”

  He lifts himself up on his elbow, eyes fixed on mine. “What rules, Layla? What are you talking about?”

  Damn it. My big ass mouth. “It’s nothing important.”

  I try and sit up but he presses me back down, his g
rip holding my arms above my head. “What rules, I’m not letting you up until you tell me.”

  Anger flushes through me as I struggle against him. His face stays calm, but he never lets his grip loosen. “Okay,” I say. “My dad’s rules. Never get caught. Never get too close.”

  Taylor studies me for a few uncomfortable minutes. His gray eyes searching my face for answers. “Why would he tell you that? Never get caught doing what?”

  “Hustling.”

  Taylor tilts his head to the side and his lips part slightly in awe. “Your dad taught you how to hustle?”

  “Yes.”

  I want to know what he is thinking, but he is face too hard to decipher. “He didn’t die in a car wreck, did he?”

  I shake my head. “They killed my dad and mom in front of me,” I say, a tear traveling along my face. Taylor quickly wipes it away, eyes full of pity. The one thing I did not want to happen.

  “That’s why you do it? That’s why you won’t get close to me,” he whispers into my hair. “You’re scared I’ll get hurt.”

  He has no idea. I couldn’t imagine anyone else getting close to me and getting hurt. I won’t let that happen to anyone else. I’d die first. The pain of living when your parents’ die, even though you know it’s not your fault, is almost too hard to bear.

  Taylor wipes my eyes and let’s my wrists free from his grasps. “I’m not getting hurt, Layla. Do you understand me? I won’t get hurt. I can take care of myself…and you. If you will just let me.”

  I shake my head and stand up. “No. It’s never happened before. I’ve always got away with it. Now, Rod is after me. I can’t let him hurt you. I can’t let him hurt Cindy. Or Eric. This can’t happen,” I motion between us, “I’m already risking people as of now. If I let you in…and let you have me the way I want you to, I’ll never let go. Even if it goes nowhere, if they know they’ll hurt you. I can’t live with that on my shoulders. I’m not my father.”

  Taylor is standing now, beads of sweat running down his torso. His mouth is in a hard straight line and eyes wide in excitement. “You’re fucking gorgeous when you’re mad. There is no way I can’t stop being around you, Lay. I just met you and I want to keep you at my house. Even if it’s not safe, I want you there.”

  I shake my head and start to get down from the rocks. Taylor grabs my hand and pushes me against the stone wall. His hands are in my hair, around my waist and scanning my body like he may never see it again. Frustrated, I push against his hard chest but he pulls me tighter, cupping my ass in his palm. “I’m not scared, Layla. Let me have you, please. Not once. No more one kiss, I want hundreds. Thousands. I want to be inside of you. I want you to call my name. Please, don’t push me away because of this. I’ll take care of both of us.”

  Desire is coursing through me, heat building between my legs. “Take me,” I whisper so low I’m scared he might not have heard me. I don’t plan on being with him more than once, but I have to have it once. I have to know what it feels like.

  He groans. “Not here, not like this, Layla.”

  I’m so hot; I can barely make sense of what he is saying. “Please,” I kiss his neck, gripping at him. “Please.”

  He places his head on the rock beside my head. “I’m not taking you on some damn rocks, now let’s go. I’m taking you home.”

  The ride home is excoriating. It’s been three years since I’ve had sex. I’m kind of rusty, and knowing I’m going to do it with someone like Taylor, it just makes me more nervous. Taylor is driving like a mad man, running stops signs and red lights. His fingers tap against the steering wheel and he is twisting and biting on his lips.

  “If you don’t slow down, you won’t have anyone to have sex with when you get home.”

  Taylor grins to himself, but doesn’t slow down. When we get to his apartment, my hands are tapping nervously against my sides. I’m still in my underwear. I didn’t put my clothes back on. We’re basically running upstairs. A man from down the hall stops to stare at us. His eyes are bugging open and his cigarette hanging loosely in-between his fingers.

  He shakes his head. “Hey, Taylor fighting tonight, right?” he asks, flicking his cigarette over the balcony.

  “Yeah, yeah, sure,” Taylor says, opening and closing the door before he can answer. Taylor grabs my ass, and encircles my legs around his slender waist. “I’m gonna make you mine, Layla. Tell me if I hurt you,” he whispers as he carries me to his room. “I’ll stop.” I’m more than once hundred percent certain that I won’t ask him to stop.

  The bed is still unmade from this morning, but Taylor kicks the covers off the bed and slams me down on my back. I’m panting I’m so excited.

  Taylor bites his lower lip and runs his fingers through his hair. “You’re not a virgin are you?” he bust out.

  “No, you’re not taking my innocence, Taylor.”

  “Good.” He keeps standing up looking down at me. I squirm underneath his glare. When he reaches down he pulls my underwear off of my hips, down my thighs and to the floor. His eyes are dark, wide and never glancing away from me. I move my hips up, urging for him to touch me, kiss me, fuck me.

  He scoots me to the edge of the bed and drops down on his knees. Oh, Jesus. He kisses my thigh, then my shin, then I feel his hair against the inside of my leg. When his mouth touches me, I moan. His tongue ring slides against my wet folds, with experience. He grips my ass, and pushes my legs further apart with his head. I grip his dark hair and push his face into me. He moans, hardening his hold on my ass. When I’m about to convulse from his tongue, he stands up and moves me onto the bed.

  “Does that feel good, Lay?” he asks breath on my neck.

  I nod and grip the sheet. “You have no idea.”

  He smiles, and takes my mouth with his. I can taste myself on his lips and I quiver at the thought of it. He pushes his finger into me slowly, increasing the pace when he puts his tongue into my mouth. “You taste so good,” he says, traveling down to my breast. He unsnaps my bra and takes my nipple into his mouth. I arch my back, pressing myself toward him. The heat from his mouth makes me high, I can’t not have him now. Taylor is growing restless. Among the sound of our kissing and groaning, I hear Taylor slide his swimming trunks down his legs. His arms wraps around me and clench. His open palm cups my breast and I fill as full as I could ever be.

  He shoves his other hand down and cups my sex. The heel of his palm rubs me, then he sticks his middle finger up and into me. “Fuck,” I whisper, my problems washing away. I’m trembling from anticipation, my heart pounding fiercely.

  “Tell me what you want,” he whispers, still moving his finger in me.

  “You,” I croak out, shaking with want.

  “You want me to do what, Layla?” he asks, voice low.

  “Fuck me. I want you inside me,” I say. I’m too turned on to be embarrassed. I grind into his finger and tears burn at my eyes from the sheer enjoyment. He pushes my legs open, I can feel his hardness against my sex.

  “Are you mine?” he whispers, rubbing himself against me.

  I bite my lip and he grips my hair. “Are you mine?” he whispers, his tattooed arm holding him up and against me.

  “Yes, I’m fucking yours,” I moan.

  “You want me in you,” he whispers, stroking me softly. The almost there touch, aggravates me. I want him in me. His teasing strokes are driving me crazy.

  “Everywhere, I want you everywhere on me.” I grab the back of his head and look him in the eyes. “Fuck me, Taylor.”

  He smiles, dimple denting in his cheek. He pushes up and barely enters me. “Fuck,” I moan out, but he pulls out. He is watching me closely.

  “Tell me again.”

  “Fuck me, Taylor. I’m yours,” I say.

  He smiles and slowly enters me. I feel myself stretching to fit his width. I close my eyes tight and slowly slide myself further onto him. He holds my arms imprisoned above my head, rocking himself into me, slowly filling me up. My stomach shudders and I toss my h
ead back. Gray eyes watch me as I grind against him. “You feel so good,” he mumbles, letting me wrap my arms around him. He grips my breast in his calloused hands and flicks at the peak nipple. He continues to rock in me, making my breath come in short pants.

  “How do you like it, Lay?” he whispers into my ear. “Hard? Fast? Or you want me to make love to you?” he asks.

  “Hard,” I breathe out, unsure if I could take any long strokes. I need him all the way in me, as hard as he can give it.

  His eyes widen, but he buries his scruffy jaw against my neck, grabs my ass and slams into me. He’s pulsing fiercely, groaning into my ear. I wrap my legs around him and shutter at the impact of his steady pounds.

  “Taylor,” I beg and clench my thighs around him. “Please,” I say.

  He groans and slams into me harder. I’m so undone, and desperate for him to not let go. It’s too good. He’s too big. I need him in me. He drops his mouth to mine and kissing me like he’ll never get to do it again. “Layla,” he gasps into my mouth. One hand grabs my breast and the other steadies my hip so he can slam into my center. “Tell me to fuck you.”

  “Fuck me,” I gasp out. “Take me, Taylor. I’m yours.” He slams into me, he reaches up and grabs my hair forcing me to look at him. “You’re so hard, you feel so good. Please.”

  Answering my desperate cries, he digs deeper into me, grabbing at me, like he can’t stand of not being inside of me. “I won’t let you go. I won’t let them hurt you.” His eyes are steady, lips parted open. He lifts my hips and plows deeper.

  I moan out, my sex convulsing around him. I explode. I shudder, bringing myself down from the high. Taylor watches me carefully, before he grips my ass and gives me four more long strokes, before he grunts one final time. We’re both breathing hard. He is lying on top of me, running his tongue against my neck, licking and kissing at me.

  I’m shaking, mouth open and eyes closed. He leans down and takes me in his arms. “You smell like me. Like my bed.”

  I smile and snuggle into him. “You live up to your legacy,” I say, hiding a smile.

  Taylor lifts an eyebrow and runs his finger over my nipple. “You’re starting one.”