Uninhibited

by Melody Grace

  “Dex!” She cries out, arching her back towards me, spreading her legs wider, grinding her ass into my cock until I think I’m going to explode. Jesus, I can’t take this, I have to have her, right this fucking second, so I release her for a moment to grab a condom from my back pocket and yank my jeans down. I roll it on in one motion, shoving her down with one hand as I grab her hips with the other and slam inside in a single hard stroke.

  Fuck.

  I lose my mind. Alicia cries out, grabbing hold of the amp for balance as I withdraw and thrust into her again, deeper this time, so fucking deep I can feel her everywhere. Her walls slide around me, contracting with pleasure, and the feeling is like nothing in the fucking world. I know I should hold back, go slow, but I’m possessed now, in the grip of a desperate frenzy, driving into her, over and over, gripping her hips hard, feeling her body slam forwards with the force of my thrusts, hearing the blissful sound of her moans, rising higher, reaching a damn crescendo. She screams my name, thrusting back to meet my rhythm with total abandon until her body suddenly explodes in a shudder, clenching around my cock, and it’s too much, it’s everything. Pleasure slams through me and I come with a roar, white-hot release splintering my body apart, my soul into pieces. I fall into the abyss, holding on for dear life as if she’s the only thing that can save me from drowning, and God, she is.

  She’s the only one.

  26.

  ALICIA

  We drive back in silence after the show. Tegan is staying in the city with friends, so it’s just the two of us for the journey back to Beachwood Bay. I gaze out the window at the neon lights on the highway, dazzling and bright. I’m in a dream-like state, drifting and breathless, still wrapped up in the fierce crash of Dex’s lips, and his body demanding everything I had to give.

  It was like nothing I’d ever felt before. So intense. So out of control.

  I shiver, snuggling deeper in his leather jacket. A small part of me wonders if I should feel used, the way he threw me down and ravaged me like that. But that’s the voice that tells me to order salad instead of pasta; and watch documentaries instead of my latest trashy TV fix. It’s the voice of should and mustn’t and don’t, and it’s growing weaker every day I spend with Dex—every time I do what I truly want instead of biting my tongue and worrying if it’s alright.

  I wanted him. I loved it.

  I need more.

  The blur of traffic speeds by and the miles slip away behind us, silent in the night. I must have fallen asleep, because the next thing I know, Dex is lifting me gently into his arms.

  I murmur, sleepy, but he hushes me. “I’ve got you,” he murmurs. I sink back into his warm embrace, my head resting against his chest as he carries me inside and through to the bedroom. He lays me on his bed, and gently eases my shoes off. “Just sleep,” he whispers, and wrapped up in the covers, and the scent of him, I do.

  When I wake, the house is dark, and the bed is empty beside me.

  I lie still, listening to the waves crashing, distant against the shore. Then I hear it, the quiet strum of guitar chords coming from down the hall. A melody plays, staccato, and then stops. A moment later it starts again, continuing longer this time, adding more notes, changing the bridge.

  Dex is playing.

  I slide out of bed. I’m still dressed in my clothes from last night, so I pull them off and slip into a shirt of Dex’s. Then I pad slowly towards the sound of his playing, following it through the empty house until I find him in a room past his office: a soaring atrium set on the corner of the house, nothing but glass walls and plush carpet and the midnight blackness of the ocean surrounding us.

  He’s sitting on the couch, naked in a pair of jeans. He’s got a guitar in his lap, surrounded by looseleaf paper. I stay hidden in the doorway for a moment, watching him at work. He’s completely absorbed, playing the chords, pausing to scribble and cross things out. Slowly, under his masterful fingertips, I hear a song take shape. A verse, the chorus refrain, the notes stringing together in something hauntingly melancholy.

  It’s beautiful.

  He’s beautiful. Shadowed in the moonlight, the dark ink of his tattoo twisting over his golden tanned bicep. He’s all power and restraint, intensity and passion.

  Dex finishes strumming the refrain and glances up, seeing me here.

  “Hey,” I say, embarrassed to be caught watching. “I heard the music, and…” I pause, moving closer. “What is it?”

  Dex looks away. “I don’t know yet.”

  His answer is clipped, and when I reach him, I see that his body has tensed up. I stop. “What’s wrong?” I ask, confused.

  Dex pauses, then he looks up at me with an anguished expression in his eyes. “I’m sorry.”

  His voice is so broken, it sends a chill through my body.

  “Sorry for what?” I ask. I sit beside him on the couch and place a hand on his shoulder, but he flinches at my touch.

  “For what I did, back there.” Dex swallows. “I can’t believe…I swore I’d never treat you like that.” He grounds the words out. “It was wrong.”

  Realization sweeps over me. What happened in the dressing room, he thinks that was bad?

  “No!” I exclaim passionately. “Dex, you’ve got it wrong. You didn’t do anything to me. I was right there, with you. Remember?”

  He looks confused. “But…I hurt you.”

  “No.” I pause, feeling the delicious soreness in my body from his hard grip. “Well, maybe a little,” I add with a smile, “but only in a good way.”

  He still looks conflicted, so I slide into his lap, straddling him. I cradle his face in my hands, looking deep into those dark, fathomless eyes. “I promise you, Dex, I wouldn’t let you hurt me. The minute you do anything I don’t like, that I’m not comfortable with, I’ll stop you. Believe me, you’ll know,” I add with a wry smile. “But you won’t hurt me, you’re not that kind of man.”

  He exhales a shaking breath, still looking torn. “How can you know that?”

  “Because I do.”

  I don’t have a reason to trust him like this, but I know it in my bones: I’m safe with him. The passion, the reckless desire, it would never stop Dex from doing the right thing, no matter how strongly it sweeps us into the riptide.

  Dex slowly relaxes against me, tilting his head to rest his forehead against mine. We stay there a moment, breathing each other in and out, no sound but the distant crashing of the waves and my own heartbeat, steady in my chest.

  “What are we doing?” he whispers, sliding his hands over my back.

  “I don’t know.”

  Dex draws my face closer, claiming my lips in a slow, tender kiss. My body melts against him like I was made to fit. And my heart…my heart shivers in my chest at this closeness. How I can feel his emotions like they were my own. How scared and confused he is to want me like this; how fast we’ve gone from teasing and light flirtation to so much more.

  What are we doing here?

  I come up for air, feeling a flutter of insecurity. It’s too much. Too intense, suspended here in the darkness like this. I look around for distraction, my eyes falling on the guitar.

  “Show me how to play something.” I reach for it, feeling the unfamiliar shape of worn wood and taut strings. “Teach me one of your songs.”

  Dex breaks into a smile. “Sure you don’t want to pick something good?” he says, self-deprecating. He shifts me, so I’m sitting in his lap, his arms around me, my back pressed to his chest.

  “Hush, I heard you just now. It was great.”

  “That’s just something I’m messing around with.” Dex sighs, and I feel the motion against my back. “I don’t know if it’ll be something.”

  “It should be.”

  He slides his hands over my bare arms, all the way down to my hands. I shiver from the touch as he adjusts the guitar, moving it into position with one hand on the neck, and the other resting against the strings. Dex intertwines his fingers so our hands move as one, and then
strums a chord, a low, deep note that echoes through the room. Another, until we’ve picked out a familiar melody I’ve heard on the radio a dozen times.

  “You miss it, playing,” I say quietly, leaning back into his embrace. “I could see it, when you were up on-stage.”

  Dex strums my fingers across another chord, moving our other hands to tighten across the strings at the neck.

  “I do miss it,” he admits. “When I was up there…” He pauses, but I already know what he means. It’s where he belongs, where he’s most himself.

  I ease out of his lap, curling my legs under me so I can watch him. “What’s stopping you?” I ask softly. “It’s not just Connor, is it?”

  Dex swallows. “I want it too bad,” he answers, hoarse. “I can’t take the risk, watch things go to shit the way they did before.”

  “But it’s different now,” I argue.

  He shakes his head. “I felt the same, on stage. That hunger, the rush. It’s just like before, and I can’t go back to that, Alicia. You don’t know what it did to me—to the people I love. I won’t do it again.”

  “No, you won’t.” I take his hand, folding it against my chest. “Because you’re not the same man anymore. You’ve changed, you’ve learned from what happened. It would be different this time.”

  I can see the turmoil in his eyes. How much he wants to believe me—but how terrified he is that he’ll fall back into the old scene again, with all of its damage and excess.

  “You don’t have to decide now,” I murmur, lifting his hand to my lips. I kiss it, every callus and knot, every soft inch of his palm. “Just think about it. You need to have faith in who you are now, the man you’ve become.” I pause, meeting his eyes again. “Because I do.”

  Dex stares back, his gaze glittering with emotion. “How did you find me?” he whispers.

  “You found me.” I correct him, smiling at the memory. “You found me, and you kissed all my troubles away.”

  He reaches for me then, sliding his hand around my cheek to pull me into his kiss. Our lips find each other, our mouths drink in the taste, our tongues slide over each other in a slow, hot caress.

  I moan against him, and then his hands are on me. His body. This time, it’s not fierce or raw, but effortlessly tender. I slip beneath him, arching my body up to cradle him between my thighs, losing myself in his kisses as his hands rove slowly over my bare skin, teasing my nipples, swirling over my trembling stomach. My shirt falls away, his jeans are discarded on the floor. The moments melt together, a deep breathless haze of gasps and movement and need until I’m shuddering under his exquisite touch, crying out at the feel of his wet mouth on my breast; the hardness of his body rocking against the ache between my thighs.

  He stills, poised above me. I clutch at him, panting, but he holds still, slowly stroking his head against my entrance until I’m crying out for more: everything in me spread wide open and waiting for him to fill me, consume me, complete me.

  Dex cups my cheek, holding my gaze as he slowly slides into me, inch by gorgeous inch.

  Oh god.

  I can’t breathe, the feel of him is so good, surging deep inside me. He’s everywhere, every part of me, and when he starts to move, so slow, too slow, I hear myself whimper, rising up to meet him, losing track of where he ends and I begin. I fall deep, deeper into the velvet darkness of his eyes and his blazing touch and God, the thick, relentless drive of his cock, so slow I’m gasping, writhing in his arms. But Dex won’t break, he doesn’t give in, just continues his maddening rhythm, igniting my blood with white-hot fever, rocking against me, driving me all the way to the edge.

  “Dex,” I gasp his name, shuddering beneath him. “Oh God, please…”

  He slowly plunges into me again, so deep I lose myself. I’m nothing but nerves and feeling and whispers and skin. God, the slide of his body, the hard rasp of friction where our bodies meet, pressing deeper, stardust and electricity, stringing my body taut and shimmering in the dark. He shifts his hips, rolling into me with a new shudder of intensity, and now I’m sobbing, clutching at his shoulders, digging my nails as I beg for the end, the beginning of everything.

  I can’t take it, his dark stare burning into me. I surrender, to everything he is as he thrusts inside me one last time, hard and deep, and oh, I fall apart, spinning out into the darkness as the pleasure breaks through me in a crescendo of sensation. I cling to him, lost and reeling, and I wonder,

  How did I ever get by without him?

  27.

  Dex finally tempts me into town the next morning with the promise of the best French toast I’ve ever had before.

  “They’re syrup-drenched miracles,” he declares, holding my hand tight and swinging it between us like a little kid as we walk down Main Street. It’s already bustling with tourists heading for the beach, and people out for their morning coffee as he rhapsodizes on the subject of the ultimate breakfast treat. “I swear, you’ve never tasted anything like it.”

  I laugh, breathing in the scent of salt-tangy air and suntan oil, the sun beating down on my bare shoulders, warm beneath my bikini and tank top. “Now you’re building them up too high,” I tease him. “How can they possibly live up to a billing like this?”

  “You’ll see,” Dex grins. He stops outside the old-fashioned diner, Mrs. Olsen’s, and holds the door open for me. “After you.”

  I step inside as the doorbell rings out. It’s a charming cafe, all checkerboard floors and red leather booths, with the specials scrawled up on blackboards above the polished old counter.

  Dex leads us to a booth in the corner and slides in after me, so close his whole body is pressed up against mine.

  “You’re stealing my booth, mister,” I laugh, shoving lightly at him.

  He leans in to kiss me. “Best seat in the house.”

  I savor the feel of his lips on mine. Since the moment we woke up, tangled together on the couch, this has been a sun-drenched, blissful day. I can see, a weight has lifted from Dex: he seems lighter, freer, and I treasure every smile on that handsome face.

  His eyes have seen too much darkness. He deserves nothing but easy summer days.

  “So, I guess we shouldn’t even look at the menu.” I snuggle into the crook of his arm, watching the other customers. It’s a happy clutter of families and old regulars: a group of grey-haired men in the corner kvetching over the newspaper, while two toddlers skid shrieking around the room. “Not even for back-up, in case your miraculous breakfast fails us?”

  “Oh ye of little faith.” Dex grins widely. “I bet you’ll love them.”

  “Another bet?” I arch an eyebrow. “I seem to recall the last one didn’t turn out so great for you.”

  Dex leans closer. Under the table, his hand creeps over my thigh. “What are you talking about? I got exactly what I wanted.”

  I shiver, remembering the skinny-dipping…and the feel of Dex’s body holding me down in the shallows as his hands roamed—

  “Can I get you sweethearts anything?”

  The sound of the waitress snaps me back to reality. It’s an older woman, looking at us with a knowing smile, as if she can see exactly where Dex’s hand is sliding over my thigh.

  Dex places our order, enough food to feed an army. “We’ll have leftovers for days!” I protest, when the waitress heads back to the kitchen.

  “Man hungry,” Dex growls, “man need meat.”

  “Hush, you,” I laugh, shoving him playfully, but Dex wraps his arms around me tight, nuzzling at my neck.

  “We’re going to need our strength,” he growls, teasing. “This is only Day Five, baby. I’ve got plans for you yet.”

  I laugh along, but his comment about the date chills me a little. I’d forgotten all about the original deal we struck.

  One week. No rules, no limits.

  And here we are, with just a couple of days left.

  “What’s wrong?” Dex looks down at me.

  “Hmm? Oh, nothing,” I quickly push my fears away. Luc
kily, the waitress returns in double-quick time with our food: a mountain of syrup-drenched carbs and crispy bacon.

  “Oh my gosh,” I exclaim, taking in the spread. “We’ll never eat all of this.”

  “Just watch.” Dex winks, grabbing a strip of bacon and taking a bite. “I’m telling you, sweetheart, you’re going to need these calories if you want to keep up.”

  “Promises, promises.” I turn my attention to the food, determined not to let the real world encroach on our perfect morning just yet. A single day with Dex feels like a lifetime: packed with more excitement, fun, and shivering desire than whole years of my life. We still have plenty of time before reality beckons.

  At least, that’s what I think. But I’ve just taken a massive bite of French toast when the diner bell rings and a familiar voice calls across the room.

  “Alicia!”

  I don’t realize for a moment, I’m so wrapped up in Dex, and our private world of two. But then I glance up and see him there in the doorway. My heart pounds. It can’t be.

  But it is.

  Hunter. Sun catching in his blonde hair, looking devastatingly good in a plain white T-shirt and blue jeans.

  The man I’ve been in love with for the past three years of my life.

  I choke on my food, my eyes streaming as I gasp for air. “Woah,” Dex soothes me, “easy there.” He passes me a glass of juice. “You OK?”

  I sip the juice and swallow, my mind racing as Hunter holds the door open for Brit. I see him point me out, and then the two of them are heading over, nothing but smiles of surprise and delight on their faces.

  I wish the earth would open wide and swallow me whole.

  “I can’t believe this,” Hunter exclaims, reaching the table. “I just called to leave you a message. What are you doing in town?”

  He turns to Dex with a grin. “Hey man, I’m Hunter, and this is my fiancée, Brit.”