by Piper Frost
He lets out a growl and lust fills his eyes. “Fuck yes it will.” He takes my hand and pulls me through the house but I stop him and jog into my room, grabbing a pair of shoes instead of sandals. At his bike, he says, “Here,” and tosses the helmet at me and watches me inspect it. “You gotta put it on. It's my only rule.”
I cringe and pull it over my head. “How many people have worn this besides you?” I grimace.
“That's only a month old,” he says, tapping on the helmet. “So just my nasty head, I guess.”
“That's nasty enough.” I reach up and ruffle his hair. “Can I get some help? It feels like it's gonna fall off.” I wiggle my head and he laughs.
“You're worse than a kid, you know that?” He reaches up and pulls the strap a little tighter before his lips lift into a grin. “You're pretty fuckin' hot with this on, Bean.”
“Really? I think my hair's killin' the image I'm goin' for. This messy bob doesn't scream biker bitch.”
“It's the nose.” He taps my nose. “Adorable and sexy all at the same time. How does she do it, folks?”
“Plastic surgery.” I wink before throwing my leg over the bike.
“Shut up.” He laughs. “You did not have plastic surgery. Right?” He crosses his arms in front of me and refuses to get on the bike. I stare up at him and motion for him to sit down but he shakes his head. “Smile,” he demands.
“Do I have lipstick on my teeth?” I rub my finger over my front teeth. “This is sixteen hour.” I push my lips together.
“Beany, focus!” He snaps his fingers. “Smile for me, please.”
I study him a minute. “Know what will make me smile? Get on the bike. That makes me smile, as much as I used to tell you I hated you riding, it's kind of sexy. Get on the bike and I'll smile.” I rub the seat in front of me, hoping he has enough room.
“I can't see your smile if my back's to you!” He's actually flustered right now. “No smile. No bike ride.”
“Come on!” I groan and wiggle my ass. “I'm straddling your motorcycle and I want to go!” I give him a goofy smile. “There. Happy?”
He leans down, tapping just to the right of my nose. “So fucking happy you don't even know. And you didn't have plastic surgery,” he whispers, inches from my face. “Because I've been in love with that dimple since high school.” He winks at me, then swings his leg over and starts it up.
I rub the dimple he's talking about, never thinking anyone noticed that. When he revs the engine, I quickly grab his sides and hold on tight. I can't say I love this, but being with Tommy makes me feel more at ease. As we get closer to town, I wonder where we're going until he pulls up to the tattoo shop he works at.
He kills the engine and hops off, smiling.
“Up for some new ink?” He wiggles his eyebrows.
I stare at him wide eyed before getting off the bike. Unstrapping the helmet, I think it over, but the answer's no. I've never wanted a tattoo.
“I think I'm okay. Is it a turn off I'm not tattooed?” I mutter, wondering why the hell I even asked that.
“Nothing you do is a turn-off, Affton,” he says then nods to the front door. “Just wanted to show you the other side of Tommy. You've met cowboy Tommy. But have you met badass tattoo artist Tommy?” He grins.
I laugh at him. “You're a cocky dick. You're lucky you can actually draw or I'd call you out.” I follow him inside. The second we enter I hear a laugh that will forever be imbedded in my head and I cringe. Sarah. God I hated this girl in high school and I'm not surprised she looks like a washed up gutter slut. “Oh god,” I groan, not giving a shit if she hears me. This girl tortured me for my weight for years.
“Chase!” Tommy yells, heading up the stairs so I follow. We make it to the top and he stands there with his arms crossed in front of him. “You let her back in this place? After everything she caused?”
Chase is on the couch with a video game controller in his hand, staring at us more confused than Tommy is right now. “Who?” he asks, not dropping his controller.
“Sarah,” Tommy hisses. “Why the fuck's she back here?”
“Grant brought her in for a quick session. I told him to double charge her and I'm hiding up here till she's gone.” He shrugs. “Money's money, Tommy. Hey, Affton.” His eyes flit between the two of us like he knows there's something going on here. “You guys want a drink? It's in the fridge.”
I walk toward the refrigerator he gestured to. “What'd Sarah do?” I ask before holding up a beer in question for Tommy.
“No thanks, I'm driving.” He smiles at me, not even trying to hide it when his eyes travel to my tits. “She was a royal bitch to Chase's wife before they got engaged.”
“Kay put her in her place though,” Chase says, grinning like a lovesick pup.
“Yeah. And spent the night in jail for it!” Tommy laughs.
“Kaydence?” I blurt, laughing my ass off, not able to picture that. “I'll go kick Sarah's ass again if she deserves it,” I claim, wondering what the hell I'm talking about. I'm not kicking anyone's ass.
“Calm down there, killer,” Tommy says, giving me a weird look. “No one's kicking anyone's ass.” His eyebrows push together but he recovers almost immediately. “Anyway, I just wanted to bring Affton by to show her the shop. It's way different now than before you left.”
“You mean to say it's not a shit hole anymore?” Chase laughs, hopping up from the couch. “Stay as long as you want. I've got a client coming in soon so I need to make sure that bitch is out of here before then.” He heads down the stairs.
“Want to play?” I grab the controller he abandoned and sit down.
I haven't let loose in years. I haven't played a video game. Casually drank a beer. Hung out in a tattoo shop. I haven't been this person since I was in my early twenties and I just want to let go for a while.
“Sure,” he says, falling to the couch next to me. “Just so you know I'm a master at this too. You can pretty much accept that I'm a master at everything I do.” He shrugs, starting the game up.
I laugh at him and shake my head. When the game loads, I smack the controller out of his hands and kill his character. “You suck so bad it's embarrassing!” I have no idea what this game even is but I managed to kill him while he scrambled for the controller.
“God, you're right I do!” He groans. “Let's just give up and fuck.”
Beer shoots out of my nose as I was in mid drink. I quickly stand, trying not to choke to death. Holding my hand over my mouth and nose, trying not to die, I glare at him. “What is wrong with you and that dick?” I ask like I'm shocked he's horny. He was always horny!
“Nothin's wrong with magic dick, Beany.” He stands. “It's way more fun than playing video games, though.” He steps closer to me. So close I can smell him.
“I mean...yeah.” I nod in agreement. “Probably.” My eyes flash toward the stairs Chase just headed down. Am I really going to do this? Why the hell wouldn't I? I step closer to him.
“Glad we agree.” He grabs my hips and pulls me to him, his lips slamming to mine and his hands grabbing my ass.
He walks us backward, to the couch, his lips never leaving my skin. Our tongues dance, our bodies push against each other, and when he sits, I straddle his lap. I have no idea what the hell we're doing. Anyone could walk up those stairs, but it's not stopping me. I don't want to overthink anymore, I just want to feel. Tommy. All of him. I pull at his shirt, yanking it off when he adjusts to help. His fingers move to the button on my jeans and my hips start to rock, grinding his hard length right where I've been dying to get him since we exchanged those pictures.
“What if Chase or Grant come up here?” I whisper, panting heavily while our mouths continue to explore.
“I don't care enough to stop and think about it,” he breathes. His fingers rake their way under the hem of my shirt and he groans. “Fuck, Beany.”
His lips connect with my neck and he pushes his hands up my shirt, lifting it as he goes, then grabs the cu
p of my bra and tugs it down. His lips press kisses on my skin as he moves his mouth to my tits. He moans when his mouth wraps around my nipple. I shudder under his touch, closing my eyes and letting the feeling control me. My hands move to his belt buckle and I work it like I used to when we were kids. Sliding my hand over his cock that's restrained in his jeans, I moan.
“Fuck, Bean,” he pants, his mouth still exploring my tits. ”You’re better than any pussy I’ve ever had.”
I flinch like he just slapped me as those exact words play through my head in Corey's voice. I scramble away from him, falling to the floor but quickly getting to my feet, adjusting my shirt as my heart tries to slam out of my chest. My mouth flaps, but I don't have words as that memory starts to fight off every ounce of lust I was just feeling for Tommy. The reminder why I don't deserve this and don't deserve to be able to let go and just feel is internally beating away my happiness. The look on Tommy's face almost makes me burst into tears so before I do, I bolt. Not thinking straight, I run from him like he's the man haunting my thoughts. I just need a breath of fresh air. Before I get to the bottom of the steps, I hear him behind me, but I don't stop moving. When I get outside, I hunch over and take a deep breath of country air. I'm not in California. In that house. I’m not with Corey. I’m with Tommy.
When his hand touches my back, I squeak his name, feeling humiliated and almost as worthless as Corey used to make me feel.
“Shhh,” he whispers, pulling me up and wrapping his arms around me. “I'm here. You're here.” He curses under his breath and holds me tight. “I'm sorry, Bean. I know you said slow. It's so fucking hard to go slow with you,” he mutters into my hair as he holds me against him.
“I'm sorry,” I start to repeat in a panic. I don't know if I should hold him tighter, or push him away. I know he wouldn't hurt me. I think I know that. But in my head, every man will physically make me hurt. “I'm so sorry.”
“You have nothing to be sorry for.” He smooths my hair down before letting his hands rub down my back. “It's okay, Bean.”
I need to look at him, focus on who I'm with. Tommy would never hurt me. I keep telling myself this. As I push out of his protective hold, I flinch before looking at him because I've been hit too many times for trying to search Corey's eyes for some semblance of compassion.
“I'm sorry,” I whisper and my tears break through as I stare into his blue eyes that are clear as day. “I—” I don't get my words out because the shop door opens.
“Hey, what's up, you two?” Grant cluelessly asks.
I bite my lip and shift my eyes to Tommy's hands, waiting to see a fist but he's completely relaxed and I chide myself for mentally turning Tommy into something he's not.
“I'm sorry,” I whisper one more time before finding my full height again, not needing to cower. I'm not going to be hit here.
Tommy's eyes don't leave mine. “Grant, tell Chase we're headin' out, okay?”
“Y’all just got here! I finally finished Sarah up if you guys want to hang out for a bit.” The guy's clueless but why would he be anything else?
“Maybe another time, man.” Tommy nods. “I'll see ya later.”
Grant mumbles something and heads back inside, leaving us standing alone out here.
“I'm sorry,” I blurt when Tommy walks us toward his bike. I need to stop saying that, but I don't know what else to say.
“Can you stop apologizing, Bean?” Tommy rests the helmet on my head, his eyes locked on mine as he snakes the strap on. “You've got nothing to apologize for. At all.” He softly pushes his lips to mine, lingering a moment before pulling back. “This helmet may have just found a new owner. It looks way too good on you,” he whispers.
I push a smirk onto my face while searching his expression. I'm not used to this. I keep waiting for Tommy to come back and scream or hit me for what I did and it makes me sick these thoughts are in my head because Tommy is not Corey.
I get on and hold him tight for the ride, almost afraid to go back to his place because if he wants to continue what we started, I don't know if I can. I'm just not ready. I thought for a brief second my head was sorted out but after all that, I'm not.
He takes the helmet and my hand, walking into the house without words and we head straight for his bedroom. His hands aren't as urgent as he pulls his shirt over his head. He's looking at me with an emotion I haven't seen directed at me in a long time. Love.
“Can we snuggle?” His voice is full of unspoken thoughts. Worries. “You can leave your clothes on. I just... I need you close, Bean.”
When he turns for his dresser, I grab his arm. “I want you, Tommy. Really. I want...this.” I point between us. “I want it to work and I want to explore what could have been, and mainly I just...want you...inside me.” I bite my lip and look away from him. “But I don't think I'm mentally there,” I whisper. “And I don't know when I will be so I morally can't put you through a waiting process that may never get better.” I don't want him to pull away, but I have to be honest with him. With myself.
He steps closer to me, his hands cupping my face, and looks at me like he's looking straight to my soul. ”I know. But I'm here, Affton. I've always been here and I'm not going anywhere.” I can tell he wants to kiss me. His eyes flash down to my lips then his eyebrows push together the slightest. “Slow. We take it slow, like you said.” His hands drop to mine and he backs up to the bed, bringing me with him. “So let's lie down. I'll massage your feet and you can tell me everything about this place that makes you love it so much, because I just know you do.” His tone is light and the way his face looks so carefree makes me the tiniest bit jealous that I can't just turn it off and stop worrying that things will never get better.
“I'll never turn down your foot massages.” I manage to smile. “Let me change, and take my makeup off.” When he nods, I slip from his room.
After changing, I stand at his partially closed door, almost talking myself into going back to my room. I can't do this and I hate to say it but if I mentally put myself in limbo and then find out he's sleeping with other women, I’d be ruined. This is a healing process that’s going to take a long time, but learning that will not be healing.
“Hey.” I stop when I enter his room and he's in bed without a shirt on, his blue sheet pulled up to his hips and I'm not sure if he's got any clothes on. Immediately my body reacts. If I could just get in that bed and stop thinking about anything but him for a minute, I could get through this. I'm making sex a chore! I can't do this. “Hey,” I mumble again.
He shifts in bed, pulling the sheet back a bit for me and I get a glimpse of his red boxers.
“Come on,” he says, patting the bed. “I never realized how big and lonely this bed was until about a month ago. It's nice having you here.” He smirks and when I crawl in next to him he takes it upon himself to shift and grab my legs, pulling them onto his lap. “Much better,” he mumbles.
“Yeah.” Words are trying to fight their way out but I'm having a hard time and I don't know why. I used to be able to say anything I wanted to him! “What's up?” It tumbles out of my mouth and my stomach flips because I feel like an idiot for how random that was.
His chuckle warms me. ”Oh not much,” he says, letting his fingers find that spot in my foot he was always so good at finding. The one that melts tension away. “Just chillin' in bed with this pretty awesome chick. Not fucking,” he says, then gives me a small glance with a smile playing on his lips before his focus goes back to my feet. “Doing something I was starting to think I'd never get to do again. So all in all things are pretty fantastic. What's up with you, Affton?”
I roll my eyes. “Getting the best foot massage I've ever gotten. Hanging in my best friend's bed. While he wishes we were fucking, but I'm pretty damaged goods and I'm scared to death he's going to get sick of me soon. So all in all, pretty lame.”
He sighs heavily, shaking his head. “Well this best friend sounds pretty amazing if you ask me.” His fingers dig into my foot and
I let out a moan. “If you think he's going to get sick of you, though, you've got another thing comin'. Especially if you keep making noises like that.” He shifts a bit, adjusting himself, then goes back to showing my feet more love than they've seen in years.
I pull my legs from of his lap and shift to straddle him. If I want him to want me, I have to get through this. I push my lips to his, and try to tame the shaking in my body that's not from the good kind of nerves. I can't let him slip away and I know he wants this.
“Hey,” he whispers on my lips, pulling back slightly and resting his forehead on mine. His hands have found their way to gripping my ass. “Bean, I meant snuggles tonight when I said it. I'm not pushing you to do this. You gotta do this on your time. And I think tonight you need my arms around you more than you need me inside you.” He groans, pushing his lips to mine again briefly. “Sorry, little buddy. It'll happen,” he says, talking to his dick.
I smirk not sure if I feel relief or stupid, but I slowly get off him. “What are we doing?” I stare at his ceiling. “Does this feel forced? I'll be honest, when you said you loved me back then, it was not anything I ever expected to hear.” I glance over at him. “But I really need you to be honest with me. Are you doing this because of what I've been through and you're trying to save me? Because you forcing something like that...that's only going to fuck me up more.” I rub at my face but only because I want to hide right now. I shouldn't have to have this conversation in my life. I should just be a normal woman but I ruined all chances of that when I lost myself to Corey.
He scoots closer to me so our knees are touching and he takes my hands in his. ”The only thing about us that's ever felt forced for me was the fifteen years where we drifted apart. Beany, you've been it for me my entire life. No, I may not know everything about the girl you've turned into, but I know enough to know I still love her as much, if not more, as the girl I fell in love with when I was a teenager.” His eyes lock on mine. “You're not a fucking charity case. You're my girl, and you've been my girl for as long as I can remember. Even when you weren't.” He shrugs. “Stop overthinking this. Us. Because I know it doesn't feel forced to you so the only thing that's making you say these things are the insecurities that have been shoved in your head for the past five years.”
