Live Out Loud

by Marie Meyer

  “How’s the Cupcake Wars prep coming?” I ask, noticing a flash on the other side of Bobby’s head. If he hadn’t been curled up on my lap, Chloe would have seen it go off.

  “Megan and I have our game plan all laid out. I’m still watching reruns and taking notes on what the losing teams did wrong. If I know how they lost, I can do my best to not repeat their mistakes, and hopefully pull out the win.”

  “Good strategy.” Leaning over Bobby, I grab my family-sized bag of Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups off the coffee table. Tearing the bag apart at the seam, a peanut butter–chocolate cloud kisses my nose. I breathe in and hold it. When I die and go to heaven, this is what heaven will smell like.

  Bobby perks up, too. No chocolate for you, pooch. I pat his head and give him a sad, frowny-faced headshake.

  “Oh, I love this part, when H-A-N-N-A-H comes in from the rain, soaking wet and just lays one on J-A-C-O-B. So hot.” Chloe points to the TV and whips her head to the front so she can see the action.

  I lift the covers and peek at my phone. Two texts and one missed FaceTime?

  Mom: First a nose ring and now a boyfriend you met in a bar? I hope you’re not throwing this last year of grad school down the drain, Harper Alexis King.

  She’s pissed. Twenty-six years old and she’s still busting out my middle name like I’m two. Some things never change. And when I didn’t respond to her text right away, she FaceTimed me. Nice one, Mom. Heaven forbid I ever tell her about my mistake at the hospital.

  Thor: Good. You had me worried for a sec. Been a damn tough week. I miss the fuck out of you, Red.

  Keeping my head down, I shift my eyes in Chloe’s direction before starting my message. Her eyes are front and center, all systems go, full throttle ahead. My thumbs move over the keys as fast as they can. Tough how? Everything okay? Miss you, too.

  Chloe turns her head, and I drop the blanket like it’s a hot potato, shoving my hand in the Reese’s bag as a cover.

  Her eyebrows pinch together as she signs. “What’s up? You’re really jumpy.”

  Tilting my head, I chew on my lip, playing dumb, plucking a peanut butter cup from the bag. “No, not jumpy. Too much candy.” I hold out a foil-wrapped chocolate in offering.

  Chloe nods and scoots closer to me on the couch. Taking the chocolate from my hand, Bobby sniffs the exchange. “I’m glad we did this. A night vegging on the couch with my roomie was exactly what I needed.” Throwing her arm over my shoulder, she pulls me in for a hug, kissing my cheek.

  “God, I’ve missed you. I don’t know how much longer we’re going to be able to do nights like this.”

  I nod, a twinge of sadness tugging at my heart. “We’re almost halfway through our rotations. Graduation is right around the corner.”

  “Who knows where our jobs will take us.” She shrugs. “And I’m going to California this summer.” Chloe signs, then swipes at her eyes.

  If she starts crying, so will I. “And I’ll be in the audience cheering you on.”

  She stops, a huge grin blossoming on her face. “You’re coming to the taping?”

  “Hell yes. I wouldn’t miss it.”

  “You, me, and Megan, loose in California? This summer is going to be epic!”

  “Cupcakes and C-A-L-I!” I nod, smiling, the weight of an unknown future seeming a little lighter.

  Chloe yawns. “I can’t think of a more perfect vacation.”

  “Same.” I pet Bobby and drop my head on Chloe’s shoulder. “I think after this one, I’m off to bed. I’m getting sleepy.” This time, it’s my turn to yawn.

  Watching the rest of the movie, all I can think about is Thor’s worrisome text message, and a summer vacation in California with my best friend.

  *

  Tucked away in my bedroom, Bobby, curled at the foot of my bed, I unlock my phone. The last forty minutes of that movie were so long. Siting that close to Chloe, I couldn’t keep up my surreptitious texting.

  Tapping the messages app, three new texts await me. I touch Thor’s name, first. I’ll deal with Mom later. Right now, I’m more worried about why Thor’s had a rough week.

  Thor: More family shit. It’d just be nice to hold you right now.

  Uh-oh. It seems he’s always got a lot of bad stuff happening with his family. I wish he’d tell me what’s going on. I click on the next message. You’re what’s good in my life. How did I end up with you?

  That message was sent twenty-six minutes ago. A nagging, unsettled ache hits me low in the gut. Something awful has happened, I can feel it. Me: What’s going on? This sounds serious. I’m worried. Do you want me to come over?

  While I wait for his reply—God, I hope he replies—against my better judgment, I take a look at Mom’s text: We are not through speaking about this, Harper. I refuse to let you throw away everything you’ve worked so hard to achieve.

  Oh, Mom. When we had our heart-to-heart after Dad’s party, I told her she had to step back and let me live my life. She wasn’t too happy about that. I know she means well and has my best interest at heart, but she’s going to have to let go and trust that I can make my own decisions. And my own mistakes.

  Mom, I appreciate your concern. Rest assured, I am not throwing anything away. Grad school is fine. I’m studying and getting my projects finished when they need to be. Clinicals are going well. I’m enjoying my current rotation. My job at the YMCA is still wonderful. And yes, I’m making time to get to know a really kind, great man. I care about him. His name is Thor, and I would love for you to meet him, soon. This is my life, Mom. I love my life. I hit send and hope that does the trick.

  Sitting up, I pull the blanket toward me, bringing Bobby closer. He gives me an annoyed side-glance, the whites of his eyes showing. Laying my head beside his, I run my hand between his ears, and he scoots closer, curling into a smaller ball of fur.

  In the four years we’ve been together, Bobby and I have always understood each other. No words ever need to be exchanged, we just know. He knows when I need a lick on the nose, and I get when he wants to tack on five extra minutes to our walk. There’s no pretense with Bobby. He accepts me for who I am, and I return the favor.

  Why are people so difficult then? Why can’t they be like you, Bobby? I care about you, you care about me. Simple.

  Nope. People have to go and muck it up. Think they know what’s best for someone else, or keep secrets.

  A burst of light fills my dark room.

  Keeping my head on the mattress next to Bobby, I reach behind me and grab my phone. Mom: Thor? Is that his real name? Is he the reason you got that thing in your nose?

  I drop the phone on top the blankets and bury my head in Bobby’s fur, a scream ripping through my insides. There’s no getting through to her.

  Me: Had the piercing before I met Thor. It’s cute. Going to bed now.

  Thor’s message comes the second I send off my final note to Mom. Not home. I’d be crashing your Ryan Gosling date, if I were. My mind’s going to dirty places, babe. Out drinking with the guys. Wasted.

  Me: Do you have a DD? Be careful.

  Warm, curled up next to Bobby, I wait for his text, my eyes getting heavier by the second. I refuse to fall asleep until I know he’s got a safe way home. My nerves are giving me a second wind.

  Sitting up, I give Bobby a scratch, and prop my back against the headboard, my phone flashing brightly.

  Thor: After Dad’s shit. Nice to be wassssted. Got DD babe.

  Dad’s shit? What the hell does that mean? So, drunk Thor gets horny and truthful. Good to know. Me: What’s going on with your dad? Glad you have a DD.

  Phone in my lap, I wait for him to explain. Minutes tick by and…nothing.

  Me: Thor, are you okay? Did something happen with your dad? I’m worried.

  Leaning my head back, I let my eyelids fall closed. What are you keeping from me, Thorin Kline?

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Harper

  I knock on Thor’s townhouse door. Waiting a minute or two,
I knock again—or more like pound, using the side of my fist instead of my knuckles. I have no friggin’ clue how loud I’m actually knocking. I could be signaling my arrival to his neighbors five units down, at the end of the cul-de-sac, for all I know. I should text him when I get here, instead.

  Thor tears the door open, wearing nothing but gray jogging pants. He’s always in a perpetual state of undress (not that I’m complaining). Why isn’t he ready for the party? I glance down at my black skater dress, the one with the see-through neckline. Maybe I’m too overdressed for the party?

  Cocking my head, I eye him, and gesture with an open palm, his choice of party attire. Grabbing my hand, he hauls me inside, not wasting a minute before kissing me.

  Dear Lord, can this man kiss…among other things. Locking my arms around him, I melt into his warmth.

  His hands slide down the backs of my arms, and he pulls away. “Bedroom. Now.” He signs.

  My heart still pinches when he signs, giving an extra thump in appreciation. “Bedroom? What about the party?” I ask.

  “Later.” He signs. The fact that we can converse in short, signed sentences makes me incredibly giddy. “I want to keep you mine for just a little bit longer.”

  What does he mean? “I am yours.”

  Kissing the top of my hand, he fits his fingers between mine, and leads me through the living, into the kitchen, and up the stairs. Making an immediate right on the landing, he pulls me into his room, shuts the door, and kisses me again, harder this time.

  His tongue slips between my lips, brushing against my mine. Heat blooms between my legs. With Thor, I’m always ready. Can’t get enough of him.

  Trailing his hand down my back, I feel the teeth of the zipper on my dress giving way. At the small of my back, he stops, my dress sliding off my body in a puddle of material at my feet. I should pick it up, but Thor’s already moved onto my bra, flipping the hooks apart—one, two, three.

  His eyes roam over every one of my curves, like a man locked in a Corvette dealership. Bringing his left hand up, he grazes the side of my breast and my legs threaten to give out from under me.

  Moving his fingers inches lower, they travel to the underside, cupping me. I keep my eyes on his face, but he isn’t looking at me, my tits have his undivided attention at the moment. It’s like he’s memorizing the way they lay, round and heavy against my chest.

  His thumbs circle around my nipple, but don’t make contact. Teasing. Sweet, sweet torment.

  I suck in a breath, my head lolling back, absorbing every sensation. I want to remember all the places he touches me.

  This is excruciating, welcomed torture. With Thor and me it’s always full throttle, one of us demanding, spurring the other to go faster, but this…the way his fingers only make contact with the smallest amount of my skin, it’s driving me mad.

  He continues his slow, languid journey over my chest, exploring every inch of me, with only his fingertips. Eyes closed, open mouthed, I breathe faster and fuller, deliberately lifting my chest with each inhalation, begging him to touch more…take more. My legs shake, muscles burning…can’t stand much…longer. I need to touch him, for him to hold me. Have his body on mine…in mine.

  I flick my eyes open, reaching for his chest. I want him close. I’m dying to run my hands over his piercing. It’s so hot. I love the way his breath hitches and how his moans vibrate in his chest when I touch it. But he steps away, shaking his head. “My turn. Just enjoy.” Again, he signs this response, flawlessly.

  Now I’m turned on as hell. I lean in to kiss him, show him how much it means to me that he wants to communicate the way I do. His left hand disappears from my chest, and comes between us. With an infinitesimal shake of his head, he signs, “No.” against my lips, a shameless smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth.

  No, huh? Not going to let me touch you yet? Pushing my boundaries, I open my mouth and drag my tongue along the side of his index finger. Defiance and longing burning up my insides. I can taste the lingering scent of his last cigarette.

  His eyes go wide. I know he hates his hands, how beat up and rough they are. He’s said before that his hands don’t look right on my body, that I’m too soft…that his hands only sully my perfection. I disagree.

  I circle my tongue around the tip of his index finger, sliding it between the pinched “No” sign. I feel his breath hitch, see his shoulders rise.

  I love his hands. Talented, skilled, beautiful. Able to coax music from a silent instrument. They can make a car purr with life. Gentle. Protective. Strong. Loud when they speak.

  Holding his gaze, I continue my little rebellion, pulling more of his finger into my mouth. Like the base of a flame, blue fire burns in his eyes. He shakes his head. “You are so naughty.” I read on his lips, feeling the vibration of the words rumbling against his mouth.

  Stealing his hand away, he places both of them on each side of my waist, dropping to his knees. The tip of his nose brushes side-to-side against my stomach and his shoulders rise.

  Circling my arms around the back of his head, my fingers brush over his close-cropped scalp, each scratch igniting more longing inside me. Thor presses his cheek to the softness of my belly, and I hold him tighter.

  How can I long for him to be closer than he already is?

  I’ve fallen for him, that’s why. He consumes me, heart and soul.

  Thor trails his hands downward, over the curve of my ass, the backs of my thighs, until they rest on my lower hips. I keep working my fingers over his hair as he plants tiny kisses across my stomach. I gasp when his tongue dips into my belly button, and I press him closer.

  Moving his palms up the front of my thighs, his fingers continue their northward pursuit, hooking inside the waistband of my black lace thong. Slowly, he peels his body away from mine as he drags my panties down.

  I watch him and our eyes meet. His are dark and hooded, dangerous and sexy. Desire crashes into me, sending my insides flipping and rolling in the onslaught. My legs quiver, bending at the knees. I have to use Thor’s head for support, catching myself before I fall.

  Thor’s quick, wrapping his arms around my legs to keep me from crashing. Once my balance is restored, he winks—knowing good and well the effect he’s having on me and loving every minute of it—bringing his left hand down my calf…my ankle, he takes my panties along for the ride.

  Stepping out of the pile of my discarded clothes, Thor puts his hands at my waist and gently pushes me backward, while he shuffles along on his knees. When the backs of my legs hit the edge of the bed, I fall, my breath catching in my throat.

  Thor licks his lips, his hands resting on my knees. Slowly, he pushes my legs apart, never taking his eyes away from mine. He comes closer, fitting between me. Fitting his hands under my legs, he grips my ass, and yanks me toward him.

  I surrender. Leaning back, but keeping my torso off the bed, I rest my upper body weight on my arms.

  Pulling his hands free, he signs, “Don’t lie back. I want you to watch.”

  Oh. Dear. Lord.

  I nod, excitement and a hunger growing inside me.

  Pressing my knees wider, he exhales. His warm breath hits me between the legs, fanning out over my center and inner thighs. It takes all my strength not to collapse on the bed. The second he touches me, all bets are off. I may not be able to hold out. But, dammit, I want to watch.

  No more than an inch separates me from his mouth. I shift, lifting my ass off the bed, desperate to close the gap between us, but his hands clamp down on my legs, biceps bulging, and he halts my advance.

  Thor shakes his head, his eyes flicking to mine. My legs hold him captive, and I can feel the vibrations of his low chuckle. With a wicked gleam in his eye, and a grin to match, he speaks. His lips move. Vocal cords vibrate. Sound waves travel from his body and into mine. “My fifty, need girl. So impatient.”

  Fifty, need girl? What the hell kind of dirty talk is that? Lust has fried my brain. I can’t anymore. Lipreading capabilities have ce
ased. I may not know what he actually said, but I understand the last sentence clear as day.

  I nod, lifting my right hand. “Yes. For you.” So goddamn impatient.

  His smirk grows wider, a hint of teeth peeking out from behind his lips. Leaning in, he exhales again. Along with his teasing breath comes another round of pummeling desire, swallowing me whole, like a wave in the ocean.

  I drop my head back, dying…wanting and waiting for that blissful second when our bodies connect.

  Thor’s fingertips press into the tops of my thighs, and I lift my head.

  “Watch me, Red.”

  I lipread every word this time. I watch him.

  He moves closer, his nose making contact first, brushing lightly, teasing the sensitive bundle of nerves at my center, sending a cascade of longing down my spine and into my toes.

  Then it’s his tongue, moving upward, over my folds with firm pressure, ending with a swirling motion around my clit. Arms shaking, I try to hold myself up. This is the hottest thing I’ve ever seen, and I can’t tear my eyes away. But I can’t take anymore. I want to lie back, let my legs fall open, and give myself to him, body and soul.

  I sit up a little more and hold my weight on my right arm, wrapping my left around his head, pressing him further against me.

  His tongue is magic. There are no other words for it. I lift my hips to his mouth, grinding against him. Panting, my breath coming faster. I hold him tighter, refusing to let go.

  The ache at my core is ready to burst.

  Thor drives his hand under my ass and yanks me against his mouth, fucking me with his tongue. The rhythms of our bodies are the perfect choreography to push me over the edge.

  And I lose it.

  My body quakes, white light shoots through the darkness of my closed lids, and a long breathy sigh escapes my mouth.

  Pulling away, Thor smiles at me with a devilish grin, pride beaming from his eyes. I came hard, he should be proud of himself. There’s no denying the man’s skills.