More Than Lies

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More Than Lies Page 25

by N. E. Henderson


  “Put me down.”

  He doesn’t comply.

  “Shawn, put me down.”

  Nothing!

  When I’m jolted up and down a few times, that confirms my thoughts of him taking me into Mr. and Mrs. Braden’s house. The door swings open and he enters with me.

  “Grab that for me and close it, would ya, Tara?” He sounds smug.

  “Put me down.” I yell.

  “That’s not gonna happen, darlin’.” I watch as he raises his leg to kick the door closed with his boot.

  “Shawn Douglas, what do you think you’re doing?” Pam’s voice rings out. Thank God. She will make him put me on the ground, hopefully soon, too because I’m getting dizzy. “Put her down.”

  “Stay out of this, please, Mom.” Shawn starts to ascend the stairs. I’m once again jolted which only make the vertigo worse. I have to close my eyes.

  “Shawn.” I call out. He has to stop soon.

  “Zip it, Tara.” He hits the landing then turns. I’m pretty sure in the direction of his bedroom. Although mine is across the hall from his so he could be heading to either one. I keep my eyes closed. A door opens and then I propel backwards where I land on a plush surface.

  Opening my eyes, I see it’s a bed. His bed.

  I make a move to rise up, but get nowhere when he straddles my torso. Oh, hell!

  “Why did you run from me last night?”

  “You know why.” I don’t want to do this. Why can’t he leave it alone? After everything I’ve been through the last few days, I want to feel nothing. I want to black everything and everyone out. Especially him. He makes me feel too damn much. Want too much.

  “If I did I wouldn’t be asking you.” I stare up before turning my face to look away. I can’t look at him and say this. I don’t want to see the truth in his eyes.

  “God, Shawn, don’t, please don’t, I know you didn’t want me. You don’t want me. Hell, you’ve told me over and over again. You would think I’d learn by now.” He grabs my jaw, gently turning my face to look at him. The one thing I don’t want to do. He lowers getting inches away from my face.

  “I’m pretty sure my hard dick said otherwise. Fuck, Tara.” Now he sounds pissed.

  “Just because your body reacts to mine doesn’t mean you want me, wanted me. I saw you. You were standing in front of me. You were doing everything possible not to—” I’m cut off.

  “Get off her, Shawn. What is the matter with you?” I can’t see Pam because Shawn’s body is blocking his mother’s.

  “Mom, please stay out of this.” He blows frustrated air into my face. I hate how it reminds me of what he tastes like when his tongue is in my mouth.

  “Bill.” Pam yells out. Great! Shawn’s in for it now and this will not end well for him if Mr. Bill walks in and he’s on top of me.

  “Shawn, get off, please.” My voice is begging him.

  “Leave, mom.”

  “This is my house, Son, now get off of Taralynn,” she commands.

  “Sweetheart, what’s—” There’s a pause; too long of a pause. “What the? Shawn,” he yells. Seconds later, Shawn’s body is ripped off of mine. Mr. Bill shoves him backwards toward the window. I know Shawn and I know that he would never lay a hand on his dad, but I don’t want to chance anything happening.

  I jump off the bed and before I process what I’m doing, I’m standing between both Shawn and his dad. My back is to Shawn.

  “Mr. Bill, please, it wasn’t as bad as it looked.” It probably was, but no need to confirm that for his parents. It’s not like Shawn intended to hurt me. He would never. Shawn is many things—man whore, asswipe, jerk—abuser is not one of them.

  “Taralynn, I need to speak to my son.” He looks down at me. “Alone.” His tone leaves no room for argument, but that doesn’t seem to stop me.

  “What are you going to do to him?” Shawn places his hands on my hips and pulls me back toward his chest. Shawn’s parents have always been reasonable. They talk things out. Bill doesn’t look like he wants to talk anything out. This concerns me. Apparently his Dad reads that from me because his brows turn inward.

  “Have you ever seen me lay a hand on him or Shane or you?” He breathes hard. “I just want to talk to him. That’s all.”

  “Tara.” Shawn calls my name. I twist, looking over my shoulder and lifting my eyes to meet his. “Head home with Matt. Take Mason, too. I won’t be long behind.”

  Nodding, I do as he says, walking away from him and out the door past Pam.

  I didn’t come home right after I left my parents’ house like I told Tara I would. That was thirteen hours ago. My head was so messed up…it still is. I drove. I thought if I could step foot out of this state; if I could just get a few hundred miles of distance clarity would come. It didn’t.

  I slam the gearshift into park. I’m home and sitting inside my truck in the driveway. She’s somewhere inside the two-story house I’m staring at.

  Dude, you’ve never been a pussy so why are you being one now?

  I open the door and hop out of the truck. After trudging up the steps, I open and walk through the front door.

  The house is quiet, but there was a car in the driveway that I don’t recall seeing before so someone other than my roommates are here. Soft voices filter down the foyer. They’re coming from the kitchen. I hear a female voice, familiar, but it’s not Tara’s. I head in that direction.

  When I enter, Matt is leaning against the counter top in front of the sink, Mason’s sitting on a bar stool with his arm stretched out on the granite island, and the girl, Samantha, I’m certain, is sitting on top of the island counter. The three of them are in grossed in conversation.

  “Where’s Tara,” I ask causing them to turn their heads my way. “Samantha, right?” I nod in her direction.

  “That’s it, but you can call me Sam if you like. Most people do and Taralynn is in her room. I was up there about fifteen minutes ago.”

  “Is she doing okay?” I know it’s a dumb question, but it’s the one that’s been on my mind all day.

  “As good as can be expected of her.” She has a point there. She would know too. Samantha, or Sam as she wants to be called, lost her dad a year ago.

  “How’s the tat healing?”

  “Great. You made my mom cry, though.” She smiles.

  “We were going to order pizza since there’s no food in the house.” Mason slides off the stool then walks to the fridge. When he opens the door all I see is beer. He grabs two out then comes back to the same spot he was seated. He hands Sam a cold beer while giving one of his smooth smiles. She’s definitely his type. If blondes are my type, then redheads are his.

  “Okay. I need to talk to Tara. Catch you guys a little later.” I don’t wait for any response, but I do notice the smile Sam tries to hide before I turn, walking back down the hall. Rounding the stairs at the front of the house, I jog up until I reach the landing.

  I knock on Tara’s bedroom door, but I don’t get anything from the other side. I knock again, the same. This time, I turn the knob and walk into an empty room. Everything is immaculate except the ruffed covers on the bed. The sound of running waters draws my attention toward the door leading into the bathroom and closet. She must be taking a shower.

  I’ll wait.

  Walking over to the bed, I straighten the covers before sitting down on the edge of the side that faces the dresser. Looking into the mirror, I determine I look like shit. I didn’t get any sleep last night, I haven’t eaten today, and being cooped up in a truck for hours hasn’t help. I’m fucking tired.

  I lean back, allowing my body to rest on the mattress while my feet remain on the floor. I throw my arm over my eyes to shut out the overhead light from the ceiling fan above me.

  I’m not lying there long, maybe a minute or two, when I hear the clicking sound of the bathroom door opening. I breathe out a long puff of air. I’m clueless as to how this is about to play out. And fuck me if I’m not a little bit scared; maybe even
more than just a little.

  “Shawn.” She sounds shocked. Perhaps she didn’t expect me to come see her when I got home. I should have been home long before now. We need to finish our conversation from this morning. My dad was so pissed at me. Probably still is. Who knows? I didn’t stick around for a lecture. I walked out within five minutes after Tara left.

  A shadow crosses over my face telling me Tara is standing at her dresser so I pull my arm away to peer up. Her back is to me, but she can still see me through the mirror. She has a black towel wrapped around her body with wet hair hanging past her shoulders.

  “When did you get back?” I hear her words, but forming a response isn’t working. Raising my torso, I sit up on the bed to take in the rest of her. My eyes fall to her bare legs. Shit.

  “We need to talk.” She ignores what I say.

  “How did things go with your dad?” She squats to the floor, pulling open one of the bottom drawers where she pulls out a set of pajamas.

  “Not about that.” She stands and places them on top of the dresser. “We need to discuss what we were trying to talk about before they interrupted us.” She closes her eyes and lets out a puff of air before opening them back up to look at me again through the mirror.

  “Let it go, please,” she pleads.

  “That’s not going to happen, darlin’.”

  Tara pulls open another draw, this time one at the top and pulls out a pair of panties. When she pushes the drawer closed, she bends at the waist to step into the navy blue material. With one hand I grab the opening of the towel and with the other I open her palm causing her to drop the underwear to the floor. My eyes glide up her body until I meet hers. Pulling lightly on the towel, Tara takes a step closer toward me until she is standing between my legs.

  “Can’t we forget it happened?”

  Tugging on the soft towel with my strength, it untucks from the top before falling down her body. I release it from my hand where it joins her panties on the floor. Tara stands before me naked, beautiful; exotic and tropical with her tanned skin, wet hair, and dark eyes. Her breasts are large. I know she wears a D cup; hell I’ve lived with her for years. They are perfect. She’s perfection.

  “What part would that be?” My hands glide up both sides of her smooth thighs until I settle at her waist. “The part where I fucked you with my fingers five nights ago? When I tasted every inch of you with my tongue? Or when I made love to you in my bed? Two things I might add that I’ve only done with you.”

  “No.” That word comes out as a moan. “Not those.” Sliding my palms behind her, I cup her ass, and then pull her forward until her middle meets my lips. Her skin is soft, just the way I remember it. The way I’ve imaged it for the last longest five days of my life. I kiss her just as soft.

  “So the part where you think I don’t want you then. Is that the part you want to us to forget?” Squeezing her ass cheeks in each hand, I flip her onto her back where she lands on the bed with me towering above her. “If my dick wants you, then I want you. Do you think the last few weeks, a couple months ago even are the only times I’ve ever wanted you? Been affected by you? It’s not.”

  Her chest rises and falls in rapid paces. Her dark eyes are dilated and her skin is hot to the touch.

  “What are you saying?”

  “I want to fuck you right now. I want to wake up and make love to you tomorrow. Then I want to repeat that over and over and over until we don’t want to do it anymore.” Something in the back of my mind tell me that day will never come, but I don’t verbalize that thought. It scares the fuck out of me. Instead I bury my face and mouth into her neck where I kiss her. Moving to the muscle between her shoulder and neck, I bite down.

  “Ahhh.” She likes it when I do this. “You have too many clothes on.”

  I push up, and then straddle her. Lifting from the hem of my t-shirt, I pull it up and over my head.

  “Better, baby?” She racks her eyes down my chest. With her hands, she goes for my belt bucket where she unfastens it and then pulls it from the loops.

  “No, you’re still too covered up. Lose the jeans and boots. I want you as naked as I am.” She smiles, but it’s not a shy smile. There’s confidence in her eyes. I like it a whole fucking lot. She’s changed this year. She still cares too much what her parents thinks, but she isn’t the puppet she’s been in the past.

  Hoping off the bed, I give her what she wants; me in absolutely nothing.

  “Now we’re talking.” She rises up onto her elbows, but she isn’t looking at my face. Her eyes are zeroed in on my cock. That look is causing my already stiff shaft to harden even more. When she wets her lips, I can’t take any more. I pull out a condom from my wallet and toss it on the bed.

  That was the only stop I made before coming home. After last weekend, I needed more. I knew then, somewhere in the back of my head that I’d have to have her. That night wasn’t enough and tonight won’t be either. I have no idea where this will go, but I’m not willing to let it go just yet.

  Grabbing her by the leg, I yank her toward me until I’m able to latch onto her thigh. I flip her onto her belly and then pull her the rest of the way backward until her ass meets my crotch.

  “Are you hungry?”

  “What kind of question is that?”

  “Our friends are ordering pizza. I need to know if I you want it quick and hard or slow and savoring? My palm lands down on her ass with a loud smack.

  “Mmmm” She pushes into me. “Rough and hard, but I don’t want this over for at least an hour, maybe longer.”

  A smile crosses my lips.

  We don’t make it down for dinner, but that’s okay because we fill up on each other until we’re spent.

  I walk into Wicked Ink half an hour past two o’clock in the afternoon. It’s Saturday and I’m covering the receptionist for lunch. Shawn asked me if I’d come in for an hour today so I agreed. They’re always this busy on Saturday’s so I don’t know what’s different about today other than it’s my birthday and I could be sitting in my oversized comfy chair reading from my eReader. I only have hundreds of books on there just waiting for me to pause and read. I’d much rather be living out someone else’s fictional world for a few hours than my reality.

  Trent gone. My brother is never coming back. You’d think I’d be happy today, that I could put that in the back of my mind just for one day and enjoy turning twenty-two. I can’t though. Trent was a huge part of my life, especially my birthdays. He made it a point to do something to make my special day, great. From the cheesy voice messages of him singing happy birthday, to the sweet single purple rose he had sent to me every year. My birthday falls on Valentine’s Day so roses aren’t a stretch, but purple is my favorite color. I’d never seen a purple rose before I received the first one my freshman year in high school. Trent has always denied he was the one that sent them to me, but I never believe him for a minute. That was the same year; the same day he started sending Kylie red roses.

  So, no, instead of being at home, I’m here about to work. Well, let’s back that up; I’m about to do more work. I spent five hours this morning cleaning the wreckage I woke up to at seven this morning. Not to mention the laundry. I hate cleaning, but more than that I hate a messy house so I’m stuck. I have no choice. I have to clean.

  “Hey, Nat.” I walk behind the front desk where Natalie is hanging up the phone. She looks like she partied way too hard last night. Her blue eyes are darker around the rims and she has mascara smudged underneath. She doesn’t look like she’s slept or showered. I like the girl, but gross.

  “What are you doing up here today?” Did Shawn not tell her?

  “Shawn asked me to cover you for lunch.” When her eyes glance in his direction, mine follow. He’s at his station, leaned over a set of legs. Looks like he inking the back of some woman’s thighs. I frown. I know I do, but I can’t help myself. Her shorts are practically nonexistent. Slut. The fact that they have to be that short for him to tattoo her properly does not
take precedence over that fact that he’s eye level with her butt hanging out of the material.

  “Well, okay. He didn’t mention it, but I am about to leave. See ya in an hour.” Natalie grabs her purse and walks from behind the counter toward the front door. Laughter catches my attention and I turn back toward the back where all the artists’ stations are located. That laughter came from Shawn’s table. I roll my eyes as the phone rings. Looking away, I turn around to answer it.

  “Wicked Ink, this is Taralynn, how can I help you.”

  “Hey baby doll.” Chance’s voice greets me. I smile. “I wasn’t expecting your bright voice on the other end of this line. I thought Miriam trained the new girl well, what are you doing answering the phone? Happy birthday by the way.”

  “Mir did an excellent job with Natalie. I’m just covering her while she stepped out for lunch. Thanks for letting us borrow Miriam for a week.” Miriam works for Chance in Las Vegas. She’s his studio manager and runs the front desk too. It took Shawn longer to find a replacement for Sabrina after Trent was killed, but when he finally hired a replacement, he asked Chance if Miriam agreed, would he let her come to Mississippi for a week to train Natalie. Chance and Miriam both liked the idea and voila, two weeks later and Natalie is killing it up front and the customer’s love her.

  Other than looking like she came in wearing what she wore the night before, she is great. Her customer service skills are awesome. She has an extroverted personality and can talk to anyone. She doesn’t sport any ink work on her arms, but she has a dragon covering her back with one paw hanging over her shoulder and it’s tail wrapped around her legs. It’s pretty neat.

  “You’re welcome, doll. We’re both glad we could help Braden out. Tell him I’ll catch him later. I only called to see how well the new chick answered the phone and if Miriam’s training was retained. I’ll take your word that it was. Later sweet, girl.”

  “Later, Chance. Tell Eve I said hey.”

 

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