by Zoey Derrick
I look up at him. He’s concerned.
“Don’t stop. I need this. I need you.” I take the head of his cock and run it along the seam of my sex and he groans. I smile, satisfied and lie back down. “Just be gentle with me, big boy, you’ll tear me in two.” I wink at him and he becomes animated and the lust is back in his eyes.
A massive hurdle overcome, now for the next one.
Her pussy is so fucking wet, scorching hot. It takes all the willpower I can muster to slide slowly into her. I remember when Beck slammed into her; it was the moment that everything changed in the room. It was like she’d disappeared and now, knowing what I know, I wonder if that was the start of what set her off. “Tell me something, please?” I ask.
“Anything,” she says.
“Sunday…when-” I can’t even ask the question.
“He triggered me,” she says softly.
My heart sinks into my stomach. “I’m sorry, he…we…” Her finger comes to my lips and she hushes me.
“Later.”
I nod, understanding, thankful for the reprieve and the distraction. The last thing I want to do is come before I’m buried inside her. Though it probably wasn’t the best topic, I needed to know.
I push into her softly and she moans. Satisfied with her reaction to my pace, I push in more, and a little more. “Fuck, you’re so tight,” I mumble. My ability to form coherent sentences is gone. My dick is leading the cavalry now. He’s desperate, and I’m going out of my fucking mind. “You feel amazing.” I notice that she blushes for probably the first time since I’ve known her. I lean down and plant my lips on hers and she wraps her arms around my neck. I feel her feet come around my waist. I notice now that she’s pushing me into her, guiding me and I move a little faster.
Her tight little muscles are like a vice grip on my dick as the pleasure takes hold of her, causing me to pull back and growl. “So. Fucking. Tight,” I grunt out as I bottom out inside her. Impressed that she’s taken so much of me inside of her. She writhes, thrusting her hips up toward me and back down, encouraging me to move. I do. Slowly pulling out, almost to the point that I fall out.
“Ahh.” I watch as her eyes roll up into her head and I kiss down along her neck until I find a nipple and suck it into my mouth. Her tits couldn’t be more perfect. When she cupped them and they overflowed her hands, I nearly came unglued in that moment. She moans as my tongue flicks against her nipple and she begins to thrust her hips against mine. “Faster. Please,” she begs. “It feels…Gah,” she cries out. It feels so fucking good.”
I smile against her breast and start to move. Steadying myself on both my hands momentarily until I can rear back on my knees. I look down and watch as my cock disappears into her glistening wet, beautiful pussy and I grunt. Fuck, I’m too close. Too soon. I grab her legs and lean down slightly as I hook her knees on my arms, pushing her ass up. The angle is making her impossibly tight and I lean forward over her, pretzeling her. “Fuck,” she cries out as her walls get impossibly tighter. There is a rush of fluid, setting my cock on fire. I need to make her come, I can’t without her. I grind my hips into hers. Her legs start to tremble; my balls tighten, sending my orgasm straight into my shaft. “I’m coming,” she moans and I slide into her harder and a little faster, pushing her over the edge and she clamps down hard. The glorious orgasm I executed with my tongue is repeated as she squirts all over my cock.
“Fuck!” I cry out as my own orgasm pours out of me.
I rest my forehead against hers while I listen to her breathing return to normal. Her ice blue eyes are closed and I desperately want to look into them. I nuzzle my nose against hers and she smiles. I kiss the tip of her nose and then slowly extract myself. I’m still semi-hard. How could I not be? Jesus, she’s fucking perfect. She groans as I pull out and I smile. Teasing her, I push back in and her back arches. She’s lighting up again and I want to satisfy her growing desire. “I need a new condom,” I say softly. She nods and I tease her a little bit more as I slowly slide out from inside her.
Standing, I pull off the condom, tie it off and throw it in the trash. I go into the bathroom to clean myself up and when I come back out, she’s laying on the bed, watching me. I grab a condom from my pocket. My last one. I toss it on the bedside table and climb onto the bed.
I lie down on the bed in a huff, exhausted. I’m trying to bring my breathing back to normal. The next thing I know, she surprises me by sliding her hand across my stomach. I flinch, but she doesn’t stop. Then her leg hitches over mine. She brings her head to rest on my shoulder. She holds me to her. “What are you doing?” I ask her.
She looks up at me, she’s nervous and I can feel it in her touch as she trembles slightly. “Cuddling,” she says hesitantly, the worried expression on her face has me concerned. She starts to pull back and I stop her hand with my free arm.
“Stay,” I say with a smile.
She nods her head and looks away from me. I gently kiss her forehead and she squeezes me a little tighter. “You’ve never cuddled before.”
“No.”
I can feel her smile against my chest. Her hand on my stomach starts to trace my tattoos and I shiver. I bring my hand, the one under her head, to rest against her back, holding her to me and she snuggles in. “So many tattoos,” she murmurs and her fingers continue to trace. “What is this one?”
I lift my head to see which one she’s pointing at. I chuckle. “That would be a stupid drunken moment about three years ago. It was supposed to be a snake and it ended up more like a squiggly fucking line.” I laugh. “I’m working on covering it up.” I rub my hand along her back. “What about this?”
She smiles again. “That is about eighty hours of pure torture.”
“I can imagine. It’s gorgeous.”
“It’s unfinished,” she says sadly. “It wasn’t meant to be left just black lines, and tiny flowers. At least that wasn’t my intention when I started it. I just ran out of money.” I nod, understanding.
“Why?”
“I wanted wings so I could fly away. So that I could fly away and forget everything that happened that night. So that I could forget the events that followed over the course of the next year or so. The flowers inside the wings were started, in the beginning to be ugly, without actually being ugly. If you look, the flowers trail from simplistic to realistic on my thigh. I took comfort in the pain. ”
“I understand that one all too well,” I say so softly I’m not sure she hears me.
“I’d started it after I’d moved to California. I’d had a really rough go of it. Wandering from place to place, trying to find a place to call home, permanently. I moved to California on a whim. I thought that if I moved there, I could forget what happened. That I could move on. Finally after about a year, I managed to land the job at Bold. I started as the front desk receptionist. Literally directing calls and people all day. The phones were always so busy and the constant stream of people coming in and out of the office, that was all I had time for.” She starts tracing my abs again and I flinch because it tickles and she stills momentarily until I settle. I don’t want to interrupt her story.
“Within three months, I’d proven myself time and time again. Despite never having time to help out around the office, I always managed to find a way. They learned quickly that I was a wonderful multi-tasker and they moved me into the office itself. At first I was a secretary to about thirty different staff members. It sounds like a lot, but it was menial work. Shuffling clients in and out for meetings, taking phone calls and messages, making copies of stuff, things like that. It only took me about a month and they moved me up a few floors. Reducing my staff members down to about fifteen and increasing my workload. I stayed there for about eight months or so, but when they moved me into that position I finally got benefits, a significant pay raise and a signing bonus of sorts. That was when I started the tattoo.” She keeps trailing over the one tattoo I’m praying she doesn’t ask about.
“What’s this one?”
She breaks her story to ask me the one question I was just hoping she wouldn’t ask. I don’t need to look up to see which one she’s referring to. The skin is still tender. “Is it newer? It feels like it’s still healing.”
“It is,” I say softly, but for some reason, I know I can’t not tell her. I tap her back. “Sit up for me.” She does and I know I have a pained expression on my face, but she needs to see it all as I explain it. “That is a reminder piece. A piece to the whole is added every time I fuck up.” I raise my right arm. The one she wasn’t lying on and scoot away from her so she can watch as I roll toward her.
“Fuck up, how?”
“Every time I relapse or nearly relapse.” I start to roll toward her and her breath hitches. Each block added is defined by white lines separating the pieces, the length of time defined by the subtle fading of color over time. “The ones colored in with anything but black are the ones I actually relapsed on. You’ll notice that the latest one is red.”
I’ve never really been able to get a good look at his back, usually too distracted by other things. I noticed that there was something there but couldn’t quite focus on it, but as I watch him roll, I can see it, the hundreds of tiny pieces that make up the whole across his back. I gasp at his words. “When?”
I watch as he screws his eyes tight. “Phoenix,” he breathes out.
“The story.” I let it slip before I can stop myself. He stiffens. “So it was true?”
“Honestly, I don’t know. But what happened that day following, I have no doubt.” He keeps slowly rolling over and I can finally take in the entire picture.
“It’s a dragon,” I say and he nods. One wing, the one on top is done, or it has the appearance of being done as it wraps around his left shoulder. The dragon’s face is on his other side, though visible from the back, it’s primarily under his arm. “When did you start?”
“The day after my parents died. I started with his head. Then once the money came in, I justified a good portion of the body by the hundred plus days I’d been strung out. Then I was too blazed to care, so once I got out of rehab, I started on the wings. Accounting for most of the days that I’d been on something.”
I look at the tattoo. As the image pulls away from the body, the pieces get darker.
“I judged how much color would go into the piece by how bad it had been. Whether or not I’d actually used, what I used and how much I used. Each color stands for something different.”
I point to a red one. “Red?”
“Cocaine.”
“Orange?”
“Crack.”
“Yellow?”
“Heroine.”
“Green?”
He gives me a ‘take a guess look’ before answering, “Pot.”
“Blue?”
“Meth.” I notice now that there are not very many blue ones.
“Purple?” I breathe.
“Anything else or everything, or some combination of drugs”
There are probably more purple ones than any other color throughout the piece.
“Once I went through rehab, I realized that when I would relapse with either the temptation or actually doing it, that putting myself through the pain of being inked would help cure the itch. So I’ve always made a point to try and get inked as soon as possible afterward. With Phoenix, it was the day the story broke.” He sighs. “So you see, I’m all kinds of fucked up.”
I run my hand along his back. “We all have scars,” I whisper and he rolls back to his side. I look at him. Fighting tears. “My parents disowned me after what happened to me.”
“Why in the Sam Hill would they do something like that?”
I wrap my hands around my stomach, seeking comfort within myself. “Because, no matter the circumstances, no matter the reasons, their firm Catholic beliefs rang true. I was no longer a virgin, not that I was when it happened, and I’d had an abortion because I needed to have surgery. It was my life hanging in the balance, but that didn’t matter to them. They would have rather lost their own flesh and blood daughter, taking both lives in the process, than for me to have an abortion.” By the time I’m done, tears are streaking down my face. “I’ve never forgiven them and I haven’t talked to them in more than ten years. In fact, as far as I’m concerned, I have no family.”
Dex sits up, lifting my chin with his finger. “I don’t think that’s true. Look around you, look at the people here, the people you work with, your friends.” I smile.
“You’re right and I’m a much better person because of it,” I tell him and he wipes the tears away, then he brings his lips to mine. Igniting my nerves and desire for him once again. His lips are soft, tender, and it makes my head spin. I take his face in my hands and hold him to me, trying to find a grip on some balance because I’m going to fall over.
I push him back, keeping our lips dancing as he lays back and I slide on top of him. Straddling him. He moans into my mouth as my pussy brushes along his growing erection. The sensation is overwhelming and I gasp, pulling back from our kiss. “Thank you,” I say and kiss him gently once again.
“For?”
“Letting me in,” I tell him.
“I don’t think I could have not told you. You have a way of making me tell the truth whether I want to or not. But the same can be said to you.”
“I had to tell you. I had…It’s a big part of who I am, Dex. I’ve met so many men that are turned off by the fact that I was raped that I needed you to know before we went anywhere with this. I can’t not tell you things either. I’ve told you things tonight that I’ve never told some of the people closest to me. Honestly, aside from Cami, you are the only person who knows as much as you do.”
“Cami? Your boss?” He raises an eyebrow.
“Long story short, I was triggered at work by a client.”
I feel his chest rumble as if he’s growling at my words. “It wasn’t… jeez, that didn’t come out right,” I mutter. “It was the elbow thing. Only that time I reacted a lot worse, a lot faster and with much more force than what you’ve seen. It was honestly the first time I’d been triggered, it was unexpected. I’d never had anyone grab my elbow the way that he did and all he was trying to do was stop me from walking into something and I overreacted. Actually, I hit him, right in the eye. It was nearly devastating for my career.”
I watch him cringe. “You nailed me in the nuts.”
I smirk at him. “That was half because you grabbed my elbow and half because I was just flat out fucking pissed at you.”
Dex laughs. “I just can’t see you hitting someone.”
I give him a playful scowl. “I’ll have you know, mister, that I’m trained in self-defense and I train other women too.” I give him a smug, ‘so there’ nod.
He brings his hand up to run a finger along my cheek. “Good.” He smiles and I flick my hips, effectively ending that conversation as he groans. “You’re going to be the death of me.”
I smirk and lean down, licking a nipple and biting down on his peck. His back arches, nearly bucking me off of him, but I hold steady as he groans. “So pain and pleasure seem to be a hot button for you,” I say as I flick my hips against his twitching erection.
“Are you a sadist, princess?”
I give him a wicked look as I lower my head to his other nipple. “Maybe.” He stiffens, bracing himself for another bite, but instead I lick the flat disc of his nipple. His hand comes into my hair, fisting it and pulling it upward. I come up and away, gasping and shivering as he does. There is an involuntary flick of my hips and his eyes roll up.
“Seems I’m not the only one.” He leans up quickly, capturing my mouth with his and my body with his legs as he bends his knees. He releases my lips, and his cock twitches against my sex. I put my hands on his shoulders, steadying myself, but I let my nails dig in just a little bit and his hand in my hair tightens further. There is a hot rush of fluid that seeps from my sex and I moan. I lift myself, finding the head of his cock, and by some act of f
ate, he twitches at just the right moment and I can feel him lined up perfectly. Before he can stop me, I dig my nails in a little harder and slide down on him quickly.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” he growls, falling back and thrusting his hips up and into me. “Fuck, fuck…so good. Too fucking good.” His hand relaxes in my hair and I miss the tugging sensation, but it gives me the chance to torture him just a little bit more. I rake my nails down his chest as I rock against his hips.
His hands come up and cup my breasts, his fingers quickly find my now hard nipples and he rolls them firmly between his fingers. I moan.
It becomes a battle of wills, of pain and pleasure. Realizing that we both enjoy something, giving and receiving, it makes me see that maybe, just maybe, after all this time, I’ve finally found someone who will understand my needs.
I try again to bring my hands up, to run them back down his chest, but he grabs my wrists and pulls them quickly above his head so that my body falls down on his and he slams into me and sparks shoot from behind my eyes. “Easy,” I cry out.
He kisses along my jawline. “I’m sorry,” he says and I kiss him back. Before I have any comprehension of what’s happening, he manages to roll me over as he slips out of me. I whimper at the loss. “I need a condom.”
I quickly wrap my legs around him, trapping him. “Please,” I say, digging my heels in, begging him to continue.
His look is haunted and tortured. “You’ve always used one?” He nods. “That was the first time you’ve ever been inside without one.” He nods again. “Your last test?”
“Clean.”
“Then please, I hate those things. I’ve never not used them. I’ve always… well, when I’ve had a choice, used them. I want to feel you back inside me like just now. Without the barrier.”
