He responded only by stabbing his salad with a fork.
“When did you try that?”
“Shortly after I turned eighteen.” He took a bite.
“Do you feel like talking about it?”
He shrugged. “I don’t care. It doesn’t bother me. It was a long time ago.”
“I have so many questions, I don’t even know what to ask.”
He raised his eyebrows and remained silent.
“I guess my first question is what made you do it?”
He seemed to think for a minute before saying, “My lack of prospects, mostly. I already told you, I didn’t have a place to stay at that point in my life. Or a family.”
Melissa listened intently, shaking her head, unable to imagine how awful he must have felt.
“I stayed with some friends, sleeping on their couches and whatnot. I tried to rotate so I wasn’t too much of a burden on any one particular person. It took a while before I had enough money to get my own place…with a roommate. There was no way I would have been able to afford anything on my own.
“Anyway,” he went on, “the attempt happened before I had my own place and I was still mooching off my friends. I was selling drugs to get by, as you know, and I knew somewhere in the back of my brain that it was only a matter of time before I’d get caught again. But now I wasn’t a minor anymore—I was an adult—so my sentences were about to become a lot more severe. I think I was depressed, but I can’t say for sure.”
“I mean, you’d just been kicked out by your own mother. Nobody could blame you for being depressed about that.”
“Losing my mom wasn’t that bad, actually. We didn’t exactly get along. I was more upset about not having a place to stay. I had to knock on people’s doors, asking them to take me in for a few days. I felt like a giant inconvenience to everyone I knew. I just kind of figured the world would have been better off without me in it.”
“That must have been a terrible feeling.”
“It wasn’t great, that’s for sure. What did me in, though, was a night of heavy drinking. I’m not much of a drinker—never have been. Alcohol does nothing but bring out the misery in me. But for some reason, I thought a night of drinking with my friends was going to be a good idea. It wasn’t.”
“What ended up happening?”
“We were just hanging around my friend’s house; I was staying there at the time. His parents weren’t home, so we convinced his older brother to go out and get us some whole grain.”
“Whole grain?” Melissa winced involuntarily.
“I know. Not a wise choice for an inexperienced drinker. I was wasted after one drink. And that wasn’t good for me, especially in my frame of mind. Everyone else was hanging out, having a good time, and I just got all wrapped up in my own head. I kept thinking about what a failure I was and how I was a nothing more than a burden to everyone who cared about me. I ended up leaving the room; I think my friends all just assumed I went to pass out or throw up or something, but I went to the bathroom to find some pills to take so I could just put an end to all of it.”
Melissa only kept her composure because she knew how the story ended. Otherwise, she might have been in tears for this poor young man who never really stood a chance.
“I went into the medicine cabinet, and I took a whole bottle of whatever I could find. It turned out to be Ibuprofen, which apparently takes, like, two-hundred pills to kill you. I only took enough for me to puke my brains out. It was a miserable experience all around.”
“I’m glad it didn’t work, obviously.”
“I am, too…some days.”
“Some days?”
“Yeah,” he replied, displaying a devilish grin before adding, “like, yesterday was nice.”
“Indeed it was.”
“But those eight months in prison were not so good. Some of the days I was in there, I wished I had grabbed a more potent bottle.”
“Well, you know, you don’t ever have to go to prison again if you don’t want to.”
“You make it sound easy,” he replied.
“It is easy. Just don’t break the law.”
“Old habits die hard.”
“I’d hate to see you go back to jail. Truly. My sincerest hope for you is that you can find happiness on the outside.”
He twirled his fork in his hand. With his voice little more than a whisper, he looked up and asked, “Why do you care so much about what happens to me?”
Chapter 16
Melissa reached over and put her hand on top of Dylan’s. “I like you,” she told him compassionately. “I mean, I know we’ve got that thing going on in the bedroom, but all that aside, I think you’re a nice person.” She removed her hand. “And, for your information, I care about you.”
“You don’t even know me.”
“I know you well enough.”
He looked at her skeptically.
“You’re a guy, first of all,” Melissa began, “so there are a few givens.”
“Like what?”
“Well, you like food and sex, for starters.”
“That is true.”
“Sports are a distinct possibility.”
He tilted is head from side to side. “Meh. I could take it or leave it.”
“You like fast things. And loud things.”
“I do like fast and loud.”
She thought some more before shrugging her shoulders, signaling she was done. She ate some lasagna.
“That’s it?”
“Men are pretty simple.”
“We are simple. Unlike women—you are all so complicated.”
“Not really.”
He snorted. “Please.”
“Why?’ Melissa asked. “What’s so hard to figure out?”
“Only everything.”
“I thought you said you could turn on the charm,” she replied, studying him. “In order for you to be able to do that, you must have some idea what women want.”
“On the surface, maybe,” he said. “But I obviously don’t know what they want long term because I can’t get any woman to stick around more than a few months.”
“I think the problem might not be with you, but rather your behavior. It sounds like the girls are willing to date you, but not after you get arrested.” She winced apologetically. “Girls are funny—they start looking for husbands at a very young age.”
Dylan made a face like he’d just smelled something horrible.
“I know,” she went on. “And I have to admit, I was guilty of it, although I look back now and realize how ridiculous that was. But back then, I wanted to meet my husband, have a fairytale romance, get married and have two point two kids and a dog…all by age twenty-five.”
“You had a schedule?”
“Yeah,” Melissa replied with a nod. “A pretty strict one.”
“And you don’t find that at all complicated?”
“No, not really. It’s pretty simple, actually. We want men to be perfect and to be able to read our minds.”
“Ah,” he replied. “Simple.”
“But anyway, I’m sure a lot of girls got scared off when you got sentenced again. I imagine most of the girls you dated probably really liked you, and they hoped you’d stay out of trouble. When you showed them you were still prone to breaking the law, they realized they’d need to find someone else to be their husband.”
“Husband,” he muttered with dismay.
“The biological clock starts early in girls.”
He still looked horrified. “I guess I’m glad none of the relationships worked out, then. I can’t imagine being married right now. And you know what else I can’t imagine?”
“What.”
“Having a kid...like, a five year old kid. That’s how old I was when my mom was my age.” He stirred his salad around with his fork. “No wonder she was a terrible mom.”
“You know, it really is a shame that you had to pay the price for that. It isn’t your fault your mom was promiscuous, but
it impacted you from day one.”
He didn’t say anything, but for the first time since she’d met him, his expression reflected sadness. She reached over and flipped his hand upward, exposing his semicolon, rubbing it gently with her finger. They remained quiet for a minute before she lowered her head down, placing a soft, lingering kiss on his wrist, hoping he could feel the healing message she was trying to send.
She sat back up, looking at him. His face still projected the hurt of the ten-year-old boy whose mother was never home—a boy who had to rely on television for company and who stole from the neighbor for something to do. She took his hand in hers, stroking it lovingly, desperate to wipe away all of the pain he had suffered over the years. He diverted his eyes, seemingly unable to look at her.
Her fingertips worked their way up his forearm, eventually caressing his bicep and shoulder. He leaned his head over to the side, exposing more of his neck, inviting her to move further up his body. She took his cue, gently stroking his neck before tracing tender lines down his cheek.
He finally looked at her, and his intentions were clear.
He wanted her.
She leaned in, tenderly kissing his lips. They stayed there for an eternity, gently kissing, connecting in a way they hadn’t before. Barely able to pry herself away from his kisses, she got up from her seat, using her foot to push his chair backwards. She straddled him, her face just inches from his. Gazing deeply into his beautiful brown eyes, she wrapped her arms around his neck, eventually pulling him in close and kissing him slowly.
She felt him grow through his pants, but she ignored that for now. There was so much more to this young man that needed attention. She wanted to make love to his soul, not just his body.
This time was going to be different.
She stood up, taking him by the hand, leading him slowly into the bedroom. “Take your shirt off and lie down,” she told him as she headed to the bathroom. She knew there was lotion in there; she had bought it before he'd moved in.
She found him lying face up on the bed, looking incredible, sparking an urge to ravage him immediately. Instead, she whispered, “Flip over, and you might want to take your pants off to get comfortable.”
He stood up, removing his jeans, leaving his underwear on. There was something erotic about him keeping himself hidden from her, like he had some kind of magnificent secret that would only be revealed later. She watched him climb back on the bed, sprawling out face down, resting his head on the pillow. “Is this better?” he asked, peeking at her with his sexy brown eyes.
“Perfect.” She put soft, relaxing music on her phone before crawling across the bed and sitting on his bottom. She gently stroked the hair off of his back, exposing his delicious skin. After pumping some lotion onto her palm, she rubbed her hands together to warm it up.
Once she felt that the lotion was a comfortable temperature, she placed her hands on his back, sliding them up and down his spine. She worked up his body to his shoulders, where he moaned as she worked the tension out of his neck. “That’s amazing,” he whispered, burying his face downward toward the pillow, giving her full access to his upper body. She lovingly stroked his first tattoo with her thumbs.
She worked her way downward, stopping at the line of his underwear. After pumping more lotion onto her hands, she began to massage his legs, rubbing the tightness out of his thighs and calves. She ultimately rubbed his feet, causing him to giggle. “Be careful," he warned her. "I'm ticklish."
“I’m not trying to tickle you,” she assured him. “That’s the opposite of what I’m trying to do. Just take a few breaths. If you relax, it won’t tickle; I promise.”
“I’m scared,” he confessed.
“Don’t be. Do you think I’m trying to torture you?”
He breathed deeply in a concerted effort to relax. After wriggling his whole body free of tension, he said, “Okay, go ahead.”
She added more lotion, working the soles of his feet with her thumbs. She gently pulled each toe, trying to encourage all of the anxiety, stress and pain to exit through his feet. “That’s actually nice,” he admitted.
“See? I told you it would feel good.”
Once she had rubbed down the entire back part of his body, she told him to flip over. When he turned, she noticed he didn’t have an erection, which actually pleased her; it showed just how relaxed he truly was at that moment.
She massaged him in the opposite direction this time, starting with his shins and working her way up to his underwear. She skipped the part covered by clothes and didn’t touch his stomach or sides due to his ticklishness. She jumped straight to his chest, spreading her fingers like starfish over his tattoos, eventually working her way to his shoulders, arms and hands. She ended with a scalp massage, which he seemed to enjoy based solely on the expression on his face.
“How do you feel?” she whispered, planting a soft kiss on his forehead.
“Fantastic.” He looked like he could have fallen asleep.
“Excellent. There’s just one more thing I need to do, and I’ll be done.”
He opened one eye.
Standing beside him, she slipped her fingers under the waistband of his underwear. He immediately lifted himself up, allowing her to slide them down and off his body. He was still soft—a notion she liked. She was able to lift him completely into her mouth, pulling softly up, feeling him grow as she moved. He groaned and tensed his legs slightly as she did it again.
Before long, he was too big to fully devour. She gently removed her lips from him and straddled him, kissing her way up to his mouth. He greeted her with gentle return kisses when she got there.
They slid under the covers, where they wrapped their arms tightly around one another. They kissed for an eternity, stroking each other’s hair and cupping each other’s faces. At that moment, she felt a bond with him that she hadn’t shared with anyone in a decade. The intensity of her emotions was so overwhelming it frightened her.
His hands started to explore her body in the most loving of ways. He caressed her back, shoulders, breasts, face…every part of her received equal attention. This was not just a sexual encounter.
This was connection.
She could feel him occasionally brush up against her between her legs, but he didn’t seem to be any hurry to go inside. The fleeting touches took her breath away, making her crazy, but she didn’t want this moment to end…ever…and it appeared that he didn’t either.
He eventually flipped her onto her back with his arms still around her. He silently studied every inch of her face as a piece of his hair landed on the pillow beside her. She tucked it back behind his ear, looking him in the eye as she felt him slowly enter her. She tried to maintain his gaze, but her eyes rolled into the back of her head as he filled her. She could feel him with every fiber of her being.
They moved together slowly, pressed up against each other as tightly as they could. Their mouths and hands never stopped exploring as they moved in sync, filling Melissa with both desire and satisfaction at the same time. She reached a soft and gentle climax, washing over her body in series of waves, but she continued to move with him, unwilling to break the intimate bond they were sharing.
She didn’t need to take a break. She needed more of him.
The pace never changed as she had several more orgasms. He eventually succumbed too, evidenced only by his loud groans as he deeply kissed her. After he stopped moving, he continued to kiss her gently until he raised his head and once again studied her face, remaining inside of her.
“Wow,” she whispered breathlessly, reaching up to touch his cheek.
He stayed silent, letting the look in his eyes speak for itself.
He eventually kissed the tip of her nose and gradually slid out of her. As he did the first time they were together, he flipped over onto his back and said nothing. His rhythmic breathing signaled that soon he was asleep.
She didn’t get up right away like she had before. Instead, she studied him, wondering w
hat was going on inside his head. He seemed like such a beautiful person, inside and out. She hoped she was having an effect on him and his life would be different in the future. She wanted him to be a better person because of her.
His tattooed chest rose and fell with each peaceful breath, and his hair seductively surrounded his shoulders. He truly was a vision. She savored the moment of lying next to him, wishing she could curl up with him and spend the night. She knew she couldn't risk that, though. She never would have been able to explain away an overnight stay.
Strangely, part of her wished she could stay there forever, but she knew this little affair of theirs would eventually come to an end. The thought horrified her. She didn't want to lose what they had, but she also knew they weren't really compatible. Their lives were just too different for this to become anything truly meaningful. She was also aware that her infatuation with him would eventually subside; nobody could maintain this level of passion for an eternity. She just hoped their relationship ended after her obsession did, because she wasn't sure she could handle if she lost him when she still wanted him this badly.
Chapter 17
Melissa could hear the garage door opening, so she knew Jim was home. A mixture of emotions filled her body all at once, resulting in a flutter of nerves. She wondered if she was going to be transparent and he would be able to easily read everything that was going on in her head. With a calming breath, she willed herself to act naturally, desperate to not give away her secrets.
Ultimately, she hoped the new black nightgown she was wearing would make Jim focus only her body and how much he wanted her, forgetting that anything else in the world even existed.
He walked through the door, his face reflecting sheer exhaustion. He set his suitcase down and took off his coat without even looking up at Melissa.
"Hi," she said seductively as she approached him, her new heels clicking on the hardwood. "I'm glad you're home."
Finally looking up at her, he simply closed his eyes and held up his hand. "Not now," he told her.
Disappointment instantly replaced all of her other emotions.
What She Needed Page 9
