Commitment

by K. M. Golland

  ‘What the hell were you thinking?’ I mumbled to myself after hearing Tash turn the shower faucet on.

  Our sex life had been top notch these past few weeks, and I’d just gone and ruined it all. I’d taken my alpha-male porno bullshit too far and hurt her, and I felt awful. She’d played it down to spare my feelings, but I could tell I was a massive pain in her arse, literally.

  Reaching out to stretch my hand and hopefully promote some feeling within it, I accidentally knocked Tash’s book off her bedside table. It fell to the floor and I prayed to whatever gods were around — who might just happen to feel sorry for my pathetic arse — that I hadn’t lost the page she’d been reading. Damn it!

  I picked it up and turned it over, thankful that the gods had ears, because the bookmark was still partially wedged between the pages. I folded the corner of the page for her, like how I’d been shown by Mum when I was younger. That way, if she accidentally knocked it and the bookmark fell out, she wouldn’t lose her spot like I’d nearly done.

  I was good like that.

  About to place the book back down again, my conversation with Rob sprung to mind and my curiosity over what she was reading took over. This book was different to the one she’d been reading a few weeks ago. The cover was different. Instead of a lady in water, this one had a puzzle piece. Still doesn’t look like a sex book, though. I flipped it over and read the title. Hmm … maybe it’s a parenting book?

  Opening it and flicking to a random page, I started reading about a woman who lived in a mansion. There was nothing sexy about it. She worked out, ate and slept. She seemed bored. I skipped a few more pages, until a line about a man and a woman in the shower caught my eye.

  Under the warm spray of the shower he wet her hair, added shampoo, and gently massaged. Wrapping his arms around her, he lathered her breasts and stomach.

  It definitely wasn’t a parenting book.

  His tender touch caused an ache deep inside of her. Turning her around, he lifted her body as she wrapped her legs around his torso and his mouth excitedly nibbled her breasts.

  I stopped reading and looked down at my half-mongrel pressed against my trousers. Holy shit! She does read sex books and they’re … sexy! I wondered if showering with Tash and washing her hair was something she’d want me to do — it was in her book, after all. Fuck it! I’m gonna do it.

  A sudden desire to wash her hair, coupled with a growing erection, had me making my way into the bathroom. I also thought it would be nice to help her — my own pain be damned — after what I’d done to her in the kitchen.

  Steam clouded the glass panes surrounding the shower, and I could see the outline of Tash’s beautiful curves. Her back was to me as she pushed water away from her face and down her hair. Quickly and quietly, I stripped down, slid the door open and stepped in. A very red, five-fingered handprint tattooed her pink skin and, once again, guilt washed over me. Fuck! I smacked her way too hard.

  Reaching out, I touched her shoulder, startling her. She stepped back and onto my toe, and every expletive stored in my swear bank wanted to burst from my mouth.

  ‘What are you doing?’ she asked, spraying me with water that bounced from her lips.

  I wiped my eyes and leaned back. ‘I wanted to help you. I’m sorry. Here,’ I said, gesturing to the shampoo bottle in her hand. ‘Let me.’

  ‘Um … okay. I guess.’ Her eyes practically bounced around in her head like a Jim Hensen muppet, but she reluctantly handed me the bottle and faced the other way again.

  Reaching up, I adjusted the nozzle of the showerhead away from our bodies, squirting myself in the face in the process. Shards of water hit my eyeballs, and I flinched and elbowed the tiles, pain now shooting up my humerus, which was far from fucking humorous. Fuck the ever-living fucking fuck.

  ‘You all right?’ Tash asked, glancing over her shoulder again, her brows pinched.

  ‘Yeah. All good. Why?’

  ‘I thought I heard you yelp like a chihuahua.’

  ‘I’m no chihuahua, love.’

  She laughed. ‘Sorry. Great Dane. Is that better?’

  ‘Much.’

  I squeezed some shampoo into my hand, then I squeezed some more, unsure of how much she used. I rubbed it onto her hair, kneading my fingers into her scalp. Bubbles formed instantly, lots of bubbles, my hands soon covered in white foamy gloves while Tash looked as if she were wearing a white bubble-turban. Shit! I think I used too much.

  She half sighed, half giggled. ‘This is kinda weird.’

  ‘Weird?’ I agreed but didn’t want to give up just yet so I lowered one of my foam mitts to her hips and glided it along her stomach, climbing to her breasts. She shivered and I smiled, a little relieved, remembering that the dude in the book had a tender touch just like the one I was using, and that his tender touch gave the woman a deep ache inside … just like the deep ache that made Tash shiver. Here we go.

  Pressing my hard cock into the crevice of her arse, I rubbed it up and down her crack and lowered my other hand from her head to her breast, both hands now foaming her tits as I ground myself against her.

  She shivered again, and it was all I needed to buck into her body.

  ‘Um, Dean?’

  ‘Yeah, baby?’ I squeezed her perfect tits.

  ‘I’m a little cold. Can I have the water back on me?’

  I paused. ‘Oh … sure.’

  Reaching up again, I twisted the showerhead in our direction but the stupid thing slipped in my soapy hand, and I accidentally adjusted the nozzle from mist to blast-the-hell-out-of-you mode. The water power-sprayed Tash’s head, demolishing her shampoo-turban and catapulting it onto my face.

  ‘Fuck!’

  ‘My eyes!’ Tash wailed. ‘I’ve got soap in my eyes!’

  Soap blanketed my eyes, stinging me like a bitch. I stumbled back, slamming into the glass pane behind me. ‘I can’t see a thing. I need water.’

  Something hard slammed against my temple followed by a heightened wail from Tash. ‘Owww. Dean, get out of my way.’

  ‘There is no fucking way, love.’

  ‘That’s because this is a single shower.’

  ‘No shit!’

  ‘Then get out!’

  ‘I would if I could find the door.’

  ‘Oh my God, it hurts.’

  ‘I know!’

  ‘How much shampoo did you bloody use … half the bottle?’

  ‘No!’

  Our heads collided, our bodies bouncing off each other.

  ‘Fuck!’

  ‘Fuck!’

  ‘Dean, GET OUT!’

  ‘I’M TRYING!’

  ‘Try harder.’

  Feeling for the handle on the shower door, my hand crept across cold glass until it clasped onto a plastic knob. I pulled, sliding the door open, a blast of cold air hitting me and almost convincing me to stay in the shower.

  ‘Hurry up. It’s cold.’ She gave me a little shove.

  ‘Steady on. I still can’t see.’

  ‘Neither can I.’

  My foot found the bathmat, and was followed by my other foot, and I’d barely cleared the shower when Tash slid the door shut behind me.

  ‘Ow. It burns. I’m so over burning bits of my body.’

  I patted the air before me, seeking my towel and grabbing hold of it. I wiped my eyes and then pried my eyelids apart, a blur of light and colour all I could make out. ‘What else have you burned?’ I asked, unable to recall her burning herself.

  ‘Oh, nothing. Don’t worry about it. Can you see yet?’

  ‘Yeah, barely. You?’

  ‘Only just,’ she said with a mild laugh. ‘Seriously. What were you thinking?’

  Shaking my head, I honestly didn’t know. Book shower-sex wasn’t at all what it was cracked up to be.

  * * *

  The shower was a fail. The spanking was a fail. And I’d attempted Bryce’s non-kiss-to-stop-a-fight thing he’d told me about and that too had been a fail. Apparently, for the non-kiss to wor
k, I’d have to tease and taunt her enough to want my kiss but then refrain from giving it to her. The problem with this form of punishment and/or distraction of Bryce’s was that I wanted the kiss and couldn’t stop myself from giving it to her. So that was what I’d been doing instead … kissing her to distract or defuse whatever situation I had no control of.

  Because pants-wearer.

  Lying in bed, waiting for her to finish up in the bathroom, I noticed that the other book she’d been reading was on her vanity desk, and curious as to whether it was a sex book as well, I got out of bed and opened it.

  At first, I read about a young boy in Mexico who worked as a drug mule to raise money to help get his mother out of jail. It was sad but interesting. I might read this book for real. I flicked pages until I reached a spot near the end, stopping when the words ‘straddle my face’ jumped out at me. Fuck me. I’m definitely reading this book.

  I expected him to go down on me, but he rolled us over so I was on top.

  ‘Straddle my face, Skye. That’s it. God, yes.’

  I kept reading, wanting to know all about this Skye and her straddling.

  ‘Let me look at you.’ He tugged my panties down and I shimmied out of them.

  One long finger slid inside. ‘So fucking wet.’

  I threw my head back as his thumb circled my clit.

  The bathroom light switched off and I quickly threw the book where I’d found it and jumped back into bed like a kid getting busted for not sleeping, my heart pounding for want of not getting caught.

  Tash entered the room and I smiled warily at her, a little embarrassed over everything that had transpired on our date night, but also because I now wondered if she’d like to straddle my face sometime, and if she’d get off if I told her how wet she was. Bryce seemed to think women loved hearing how wet they were, and up until now, I hadn’t been convinced. Wouldn’t they know how wet they were? Wouldn’t they feel it themselves? And how would my pointing it out turn them on? Clearly, Bryce and the author of the book I’d just been reading were on the same page, because ‘wet talk’ seemed to work for them.

  Tash’s movements were cautious as she approached the bed, and my guilt amplified tenfold.

  ‘I’m sorry, love,’ I said, pulling back the covers for her. ‘I hit you too hard. Fuck. I’m so sorry.’

  ‘Yeah, you did.’ She eased herself into bed, her avoidance of lying on her arse obvious with how quickly she rotated to her side.

  ‘I promise I won’t ever do it again.’

  ‘Why not?’

  I furrowed my brow. ‘Because you have a massive red handprint on your arse.’

  ‘Yeah, because you hit me too hard. If your hand had connected a little softer, it would’ve been … I don’t know, hot.’

  I raised an eyebrow. ‘Really?’

  She smirked; a little sexy, a little embarrassed.

  ‘Hmm … noted.’ I shuffled closer and threaded my fingers through her hair, gently pulling her head towards me and kissing her lips. She tasted of mint and Tash. It was a delicious combination. ‘What else do you think is hot?’ I murmured, trailing my mouth across her cheek to her neck.

  She sucked in a ragged breath. ‘Summer and Mexican food.’

  I nibbled her ear. ‘Very funny.’

  She winced and I pulled back. ‘Don’t tell me that was too hard as well. Fuck, I might as well give up.’

  ‘No!’ Her fingers clenched my chin, her eyes peering deep into mine. ‘Don’t ever give up, not on me, not on us. Promise?’

  I searched her pleading face, a flicker of uncertainty and unease stabbing me in the chest. ‘Of course, love.’

  She nodded. ‘Good. I love you today.’

  ‘And I love you every day.’

  Tash pulled my face back to hers and kissed me softly, her hand moving from my chin to the back of my head, our tongues stroking one another, and our fingers biting into skin.

  ‘And I wasn’t wincing at your nip,’ she explained. ‘I was wincing because I put too much pressure on my butt cheek.’

  ‘Tell me what I can do to ease your pain.’

  She smiled but it lacked conviction. ‘It’s not that bad.’

  ‘You’re the world’s worst liar.’

  ‘Okay. It hurts like sneezing a pineapple.’

  ‘And you’ve done this … when?’ I drawled.

  She narrowed her eyes. ‘You wanna help me take some of the pain away that you caused?’

  ‘You know I do.’

  ‘Fine. Trixiebell has an aloe vera plant in her backyard. Go break off a big, fat, juicy leaf for me.’

  ‘Now?’ I asked incredulously. ‘It’s gone midnight and I’m in my jocks.’

  ‘So? It’s gone midnight. No one will see your jocks.’

  ‘What about her dogs? Buster is a psycho.’

  ‘Buster is a puppy, he’ll be inside with Trixie and Leo.’

  ‘I don’t care about Leo. I’m not even sure Leo is still alive. He doesn’t move.’

  ‘He’s alive, Dean. He’s just old.’

  ‘He’s beyond old. He’s decaying.’

  ‘Ow. Ow. Oh, the pain.’

  She was lucky I felt guilty as shit and that she was so fucking adorable, because as I swept the blanket away from my body and got out of bed, the last thing I wanted to do was go frolicking in Trixie’s jungle. Pun definitely unintended.

  * * *

  Despite it being the height of summer, the temperature at one a.m. wasn’t exactly kind to the old fella shrivelling in my jocks. Shit! I should’ve at least put on a t-shirt. The silver light cast by the full moon hanging high in the night sky allowed decent visibility over both Trixiebell’s backyard and ours. It also increased my chances of returning with Tash’s fucking aloe vera leaf without suffering a broken neck. Then again, what was another broken bone tonight?

  Hoisting myself up over the fence, I cursed Mother Nature for creating splinters when one pierced the skin of my finger. You’re a man not a mouse, Dean. Man. Not. A. Mouse. Granted, a mouse wouldn’t have to trespass on its neighbour’s property in the early morning in its underwear because it mouse-spanked its mouse-spouse’s mouse-arse. So being a mouse as opposed to a man was not such a bad alternative.

  As I landed with a thud on the ground, a loud snap echoed and triggered a symphony of squawking birds and screeching chickens.

  ‘Shit!’

  ‘What? What was that?’ Tash whispered, the flashlight on her phone blinding me when she shone it directly into my face.

  I held up my hand to shield my eyes. ‘I don’t know. Get that shit off my face. I can’t see.’

  ‘Sorry. I thought it would help.’

  ‘Well, it would if it wasn’t aimed right at my face.’

  ‘Fine. Don’t worry about it. I’ll go back inside then.’

  She went to climb back down the fence. Damn it.

  ‘No! Wait! Tash, come back. You’re helping. Just shine it where this stupid plant is.’

  ‘I don’t exactly know where it is.’ She pointed her phone towards the yard, light bouncing off various animal hutches and plants.

  ‘Go back. What the hell are those?’

  ‘Ferrets, I think.’

  ‘Why? Why does she have ferrets?’

  ‘I dunno. Why do we have kids?’

  ‘Good question.’

  ‘Oh, oh! Over there!’ Tash shone the light on a prickly-looking plant.

  ‘You mean the big bastard covered in thorns?’

  ‘Yes. That’s the one.’ For the love of wives with sore arses. ‘Are you complaining, Sir Spanksalot?’

  I paused and playfully glared up at her, unable to see the shit-eating grin on her face in the dark. I knew she was wearing it, though. I knew because I could feel its shitty radiation.

  Treading carefully through Trixie’s yard, I bypassed the ferrets, snuck past the chickens, and stopped at the green obnoxious spike-fest that bloody well better soothe Tash’s welt.

  ‘Shit, I didn’t bring she
ars,’ I called out.

  ‘You don’t need them. Just break it off.’

  ‘That’s easy for you to say. It’s covered in … teeth!’

  ‘It’s not a fucking shark, Dean. It’s not going to bite you. Hurry up. I’m getting cold.’

  ‘I’ll give you friggin’ cold,’ I murmured under my breath.

  Carefully taking a leaf in my hand, I worked to break it halfway down the stem when the fucking thing bit me. ‘Jesus!’

  Shaking it off, I went to finish the job when an atrocious squawk sounded next to my ear, the screech vibrating through my head and causing me to jump and land on the entire shark-toothed, prickly, arse-soothing fucker of a plant.

  ‘Argh! Fuck!’ I cried out, scrambling to get to my feet again.

  The brightest light I’d ever seen nearly knocked me back on my arse, and for a second I thought a UFO was hovering over my head and Trixie’s family had come to take her home.

  ‘Who’s there?’ a voice called out. ‘Show yourself you petty thieving wanker.’

  The spotlight was burning holes into my retinas, so I covered my eyes and tried to block its force with my other hand, and as I held my arm up, a wall of paws, fur and muscle barrelled into my chest, knocking me back onto the plant.

  ‘Thatta boy, Buster. Take him down.’

  ‘Trixie! It’s Dean,’ Tash yelled.

  ‘What? Dean? What the hell are you doing in my backyard at one in the morning?’

  ‘Ask, my wif—’ I tried to talk, but each time I did Buster would lick my mouth. ‘Buster, stop it. Get off!’ I spat. ‘Trixie!’ Spit. ‘Call your dog.’ Spit. ‘I can’t.’ Spit. Spit. ‘Move.’

  ‘Buster! Buster, come here, boy.’

  The boxer pup — which weighed a bloody ton — leaped off me and ran back to Trixie. I sat up, continuing to shield my eyes, and peeled myself off the plant of death for the second time, only to come face-to-face with Leo, a one-thousand-plus-year-old golden retriever. He stared right at me, or right through me — I don’t even know if he knew what he was staring at — then turned around and made the trek back inside.

  ‘Here,’ I heard Trixie say.

  The spotlight burying into my face was blocked by her towering form, illuminating her cherry red hair and fluorescent pink onesie like a halo. I looked up at her offered hand but noticed the shotgun clasped in the other.