Live Out Loud

by Marie Meyer

  Fumbling to sit up, my body weak and boneless, Thor slaps his palm against mine, helping me up. “We’re just getting started, sweetheart.” He signs, dropping his pants to the floor, his erection springing free.

  I can’t help it; my eyes shine bright and wide. It’s like getting to eat chocolate and peanut butter every day for the rest of my life. Only it’s Thor and infinitely better.

  His body on full display, I rake my eyes over each hard, inked, muscled line. His taut abs twitch. Will he let me touch yet? Is it my turn to reduce him to a quivering mass of satiated bliss?

  Planting my feet on the floor, I stand. At my full height, the top of my head barely comes to the center of his chest. But I like it this way. When I rest my head on him, my cheek is directly over his heart.

  I crane my neck to look at him, placing my hands at his waist, fingers brushing over his rigid V-cut. On my tiptoes, I reach up, begging him to meet me halfway, needing to feel his mouth on mine.

  He understands. Folding his arms around me, he bends, pressing a soft kiss to my lips. He tastes like me. My heart thumps heavy in my chest, a heady desire spreads through me, and I’m ready for more.

  Our kiss is slow and consuming. I don’t know when his breath becomes mine, but I take it willingly. Needing it. I want him inside me in every way he can be.

  Thor, without loosening his grip, or breaking our kiss, walks us to the bed. Gently, he lays me down, his body covering mine. Spreading my legs, he fits between them. His dick presses so close to where I want it. Naughty girl that I am, I lift my hips, making the tip of his cock slide over my clit.

  God, yes!

  I do it again. And again.

  Yessss!

  And again.

  Lifting and sliding. A glorious rhythm, giving way to so much need. Each time I push the limit, guiding him to my opening, hoping he slips inside.

  Thor pushes my shoulders, and I fall back onto the mattress. He covers me, his entire body pressed to mine. Kissing down my cheek, to my neck, his strong arms holding me to him. I sign against his back. “God, you feel amazing. Take me, T-H-O-R.”

  He lifts slightly, and already, I’m missing his weight. Opening my eyes, I stare up at him. The dark stubble on his jaw is a little more rugged, like he hasn’t trimmed it up in a day or two, giving him an edgier look.

  “You are so hot.”

  “Are you signing against my back?” he asks, smiling.

  Grinning, I do it again. “Yes.”

  “Don’t stop. I love it.” He kisses me again. Deeper this time. How is that even possible?

  And then he stops.

  “What’s going on?”

  Looking over his shoulder, toward the door, he climbs off me, and holds up his index finger, as he walks to the door. Holy shit. Someone’s here!

  Scrambling, I claw at the blanket on the bed, and pull it over my legs and chest, covering myself. Thor’s got the door cracked, hiding his body behind it, talking to someone. Craning my neck, I try to peek around the door, to see who it is.

  Thor shuts the door and turns around, shrugging. “Sorry. Roommate.” Walking back to the bed, he cuts to the side, making his way to the nightstand. Pulling open a drawer, he rummages around, and holds up a small foil wrapper between his fingers. “Where were we?”

  I don’t need to read his lips this time, his actions are screaming. Ripping open the packet, Thor rolls the condom over his dick. Even with the interruption, he’s still rock-hard.

  Tossing back the blanket, he jumps into bed. Oh!

  Grabbing my hips, he jerks me down on the mattress, and kicks his leg over my waist, pinning me beneath him.

  He pierces me with his sky-blue eyes and my breath evens out, in awe of the beautiful man on top of me. How far we’ve come in such a short time together.

  I’ve picked up and committed to memory so many of his subtle traits, little pieces of him that speak louder than any words can. I know you, Thorin Kline.

  I touch the pulse at the side of his neck, feeling his life beneath my fingertips, thumping a hurried beat as his emotions run high. I know the horizontal creases on his forehead, markers of how much he carries, but doesn’t share. Swiping my fingers above his brow, I smooth the lines, wanting to lighten his load. Let me in, baby.

  Thor searches my face, giving a small shake of his head.

  I know this look, too. It’s a question. How are you here with me?

  It’s the same question I ask myself. Thor and I are so different. Tattoos and freckled porcelain. Hearing and deaf. But, when we’re together, the lines blur. Ink gets smeared all over the glass, and the contrast fades. We’re one. Without even a word, we know what the other needs. We reside in the other’s universe and understand.

  His eyes speak of passion and longing, the way a flame whispers over paper, consuming it. Boring into his gaze, I lift my hands between us. “Consume me, Thor.” I sign against his lips. “Set me on fire. Burn me up.”

  Brushing the hair off my cheek, he hovers at my center. He kisses my fingers, and he pushes inside so slowly, inch by inch, filling and stretching me. Stealing my breath away.

  My lids flutter closed. Can’t…concentrate. Feels…so…good.

  I tighten around him, throwing my arms around his neck, lifting my pelvis. Take me, Thor. I need him to quiet the ache between my legs.

  Languidly, he pulls out, teasing. My breath hitches, and he slides back in, burying himself deeper. Rolling his hips with each deliberate, calculated thrust.

  “More,” I sign on his back, mouthing the words so he can see. “Please.”

  Harder. Faster.

  “More of what, baby?” He pushes into me, thrusting just a little harder than before. “This?” Quicken his pace by a half-beat he pulls back out, and slams into me again.

  “Again.” I buck my hips, spurring him on.

  Obliging my request, he pumps into me, faster and faster, building tension inside me like an architect. His dick hits so deep. Oh, yes!

  I climb higher and higher until there’s nowhere for me to go…until I want to fall.

  To let go.

  To scream.

  It’s right there, a ball of suppressed emotion, charged sexual energy, sitting in the back of my throat, ready to be unleashed.

  Our bodies rocking together, he brings me to the edge.

  Covering me, he sucks my bottom lip into his mouth and I…

  I almost…

  Now’s your chance, Harper. Let him hear you.

  Seventeen years of silence and Thor makes me want to speak. To shout his name.

  He slams into me at the same time his tongue pushes past my lips. Kissing me deep, our tongues thrusting to the same rhythm as our bodies.

  Thor’s groan rumbles against my mouth, and my chest, he moves into me one last time, and I’m gone. My body hums…so fucking alive. I clamp down around him, my hands on his ass, begging him to stay, to drive into me farther…to fuck me with every inch of his dick.

  He pushes. And I force him closer.

  Oh, God! Thor!

  The words are on my tongue. I want him to have them. To hear what he does to me.

  What if he hates it? What if it turns him off?

  He pulls out, slamming into me again. And again. Chasing his own release.

  And I swallow the words lodged in my throat.

  I won’t ruin this for him.

  Two more thrusts and he’s gone. The “Fuuuuuck,” that roars from his mouth, resonates through my body. He shutters, collapsing on top of me.

  We lie still for a while, catching our breath. Thor’s head, pressed against my chest, rises and falls whenever I inhale and exhale. Along with the scratch of his hair under my palm, he’s pulled me into a hypnotic, post-O trance.

  Lifting his head, he puts his chin between my boobs, and smiles at me. He brings his hand up, and traces an outline around my lips. “Since the first day I saw you…” He pauses, touching the left side of my mouth. “I’ve loved your smile. Right here”—he tap
s—“it’s just a little higher than the other side.”

  My smile’s crooked? Self-consciously, I smile through a frown, touching the left side of my mouth, pulling and tugging at the corners, measuring.

  “Stop.” Thor sets a vertical hand on top of his open palm. “It’s beautiful.” With his hands on the mattress—one on each side of me—he does a push-up, crashes his mouth against the left side of my “crooked” smile, and hauls himself out of bed. “Party time.” He grins and turns around, giving me a lovely view of his perfect ass.

  Thor disappears out of the bedroom, and into the hallway, heading in the direction of the bathroom. After that workout, I’d much rather just stay cuddled in bed all night. But, tonight’s important to Thor. And I finally get to meet his friends. That’s huge.

  Flinging the blanket off, I dangle my feet over the side of the bed, while I glance around the room. My clothes remain in a crumpled heap in the center of his floor. Great. I have sex hair and my dress is a wrinkled mess. It won’t take a bunch of rock musicians long to figure out why Thor’s late for the party.

  Taking inventory of my sex-crazed hair, I pat and shove the defiant curls back into submission.

  Feet hitting the ground, I stalk over to the pile of black fabric, picking up my panties, bra, and then my dress. Wrinkled as fuck. Damn.

  Thor returns, standing in the doorway, pulling on a pair of boxer briefs, eyebrows wagging. “I can get used to coming in my room and seeing this view.” He moves his hand up and down gesturing at my nakedness.

  Shaking out my dress, I give him a pointed glare. I can’t really be mad at him, I was a very willing participant, but if I need to blame someone for my less than stellar appearance when meeting his friends for the first time, I’m bestowing him the honor.

  Laying my clothes out on the bed, hoping some time away from the heap will help the wrinkle situation, I head toward the bathroom, myself. Putting a hand on Thor’s stomach I slip between him and doorway. Before I’m in the hallway, I feel Thor’s hand on my arm.

  Turning around, I look up at him.

  “Can I ask you something?”

  He really has gotten good at signing. My heart pinches in my chest, impressed and so touched. “Anything.” I nod.

  “When we”—he points to the bed—“when you came. I thought for a minute…It seemed like…” He stops.

  I wait a few beats, giving him time to recall his words and signs.

  “That you wanted to say something. That you were going to talk. Am I right?”

  How did he now? Moving my head up and down, I sign, “Yes. I almost did.”

  “Why did you hold back?”

  It hits me. How much he’s put into this relationship. How hard he’s trying. We’re speaking the same language. He’s signing, and I understand him. He understands me. Tears burn my eyes. Besides Chloe, no other person in my life has ever made an effort to communicate with me. “I wanted to. I got scared.”

  “Why?” His brows pinch together. “Harper, you don’t E-V-E-R have to be scared with me.”

  Thor stares at me for a minute, his blue eyes darkening. Shoulders slumped, he walks over to the bed, resting his elbows on his knees. I don’t think I could have hurt him any worse than if I had taken a baseball bat to Lizzy.

  Padding across the room, I pull the sheet off the bed and wrap it around my shoulders, taking a seat beside him. I know how much he wants to hear my voice. He’s asked me before. But, tonight proved that I can’t. Even with the intimacy of being as close as two people can possibly be, I still couldn’t. I wanted to…I just couldn’t.

  I bump my shoulder into his, getting his attention. “Why is it so important to you?” Asking the question, a little flare of anger ignites in my belly. Yes, I know what he wants. But what about what I want? It’s my choice. If I don’t want to speak, I don’t have to. Why does he keep pressing the issue?

  “I want to hear your voice so fucking bad.”

  So, having me the way I am isn’t enough? The anger inside me isn’t a flare, but a grenade and his words just pulled the pin. Grabbing my panties off the mattress, I shove one leg in at a time, then go to work on my bra. Getting dressed the first time was a hell of a lot easier.

  Thor watches as I yank and tug my dress into place. Scanning the room for my shoes, I don’t see them. Come to think of it, I don’t remember taking them off. They’ve got to be downstairs.

  Without a word, I walk to the doorway. His hand lands on my arm. Glancing over my shoulder, I see his lips move. “Where are you going?”

  I whirl on him. “I’m leaving.” I clip my signs, anger coursing through my body. “I’m tired of you asking me to do something I’m not willing to give you. Seventeen years. I haven’t spoken a goddamn word in seventeen fucking years. Respect my choices and leave it alone.” I drop my hands, shoulder’s heaving. I’d be surprised if he got all of that, but right now, I’m so pissed, I could give zero fucks.

  “You know what?” he yells. I know he’s yelling because his mouth opens wider than it does when he speaks. And I can see the anger exploding in his eyes. “I’ve busted my ass learning ASL for you.” He points to me, poking a finger in my chest. “I want to communicate with you. I wish you cared to do the same for me.”

  Oh, so we’re going to play the Who Cares More game, huh? Fuck you, Thorin Kline. “I was stupid to ever think a relationship with a hearing person could ever work. You don’t understand. And let’s not forget about all the secrets you keep from me. If you cared, you’d tell me what’s going on with your mom. What shit your dad has done. I’m so tired of you pushing me away. Not trusting ME!”

  Turing my back to him, I leave his room, and run down the stairs. In the living room, I grab my discarded shoes lying in front of the door, turn the knob and get the fuck out of his place before he comes after me.

  Unlocking the Bug, I climb inside and push the engine start button. Bolting out of the parking lot, I head toward home, tears blurring my vision.

  *

  Fitting the key in the door, I push it open, already hating myself. What have I done? Bobby wags his tail at my feet, jumping up on his back legs, dancing around. Not even his Instagram-worthy mugging can pull me out of this slump. I want to sit on the couch, hide under my car blanket, eat a bowl of chocolate ice cream as big as my head, and dump peanut butter cups on top until I puke.

  Chloe, sitting on the couch, looks up from the laptop perched on crisscrossed legs. Her large, black framed glasses sitting on the tip of her nose, she cocks her head and pushes them up. “What happened to you? You look like Bobby when he gets kicked out of your bedroom on nights Thor sleeps over.” She pats the couch.

  Falling onto the cushion beside her, Bobby jumps on my lap, licking my face. I pat his head, scooping him into my arms, hugging him.

  “I won’t have to kick him out anymore.”

  “What happened?”

  Shaking my head, I let all the sadness, anger, and confusion come pouring out. I lay my head on Chloe’s shoulder, tears slipping from my eyes. “He wants to hear my voice.”

  “Oh.” More than anyone, Chloe knows how much I hate speaking. She accepts that about me and doesn’t push.

  “If the two people in my life, who are supposed to love me no matter what, preferred it better when I didn’t speak, why in the hell would Thor want to hear me?”

  Chloe shrugs, remaining quiet for a beat, then raises her hands. “That’s where trust comes in.”

  I lift my head to look at her. “Trust? That’s a two-way street. How can I trust someone who doesn’t trust me? I’ve begged him to let me in. To trust me with the secret he keeps bottled up inside. And he stays quiet.” Standing, I tuck Bobby under my arm and wipe my eyes on my shirtsleeve. “That first date was a mistake. How many hearing boys do I have to go out with before I learn my lesson? I will never be enough the way I am.”

  Before Chloe can convince me I’m wrong, I turn on my heel, and hit the stairs. Bobby licks my face, knowing just want I nee
d…without me saying a word.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Thor

  “How many times do I have to tell you that you’re not like him?” Mom scolds.

  Yep. She’s feeling better.

  “You think your father would have ever learned another language for me? Hell, in the early days, I thought it was a sign of true love when he put his dirty underwear in the hamper. Guess how often that happened?”

  I switch ears, pressing the phone between my face and shoulder as I unlock my back door. “Never.”

  “Twice. It happened twice in twenty years we were married. On our wedding night, and next day, during our honeymoon. You, son, are not your father. Who takes care of me? Sure as hell ain’t your old man.”

  Dropping the keys on the counter, I book it up the stairs, taking them two at a time. “Think it’s finally sinking in.” I get it loud and clear. Even when Harper and I argued last week, the fiery rage that usually burns through me—especially when I’m face to face with my dad—it didn’t rear its ugly head. “You taking it easy, Ma?” I ask, pulling Lizzy’s case from behind the nightstand. Flipping the latches, I grab Lizzy from the bed and tuck her away. We’ve got a date…hopefully.

  “Yeah. Start my self-defense class tomorrow.”

  “No shit! That’s great. I’m proud of you.”

  When Dad came sniffing around Mom’s apartment complex a week or so after the attack, hoping to get his truck back, the cops nailed him. And since I convinced Mom to press charges, Raymond Kline won’t be getting out of prison anytime soon. He can rot in there for all I care.

  Mom’s safe. She’s taking steps to protect herself. The band is off to a fucking great start. For once, I don’t feel like I have to look over my shoulder, or wait for the other shoe to drop. Can’t remember a time in my life when I’ve felt so free.

  Now I just have to get my girl back.

  “Listen, Ma. I’ve got an appointment I’m running late for. Call you tomorrow? I want to hear all about your class.” Jogging down the stairs, Lizzy in tow, I grab my keys, and head out the back door.