by Jaci J
“Lil, you know I fuckin’ love you. I’ll love you ‘till the day I fuckin’ die. Don’t ever doubt that shit. You might hate me right now n’ I fuckin’ get it, but that shit doesn’t change how much I love your ass.”
16
Car Seats
&
Kitchen Counters
Lil
I try to hold onto that hate. I feed off that mean woman I’ve become so I can use it. I have to. If I let it go, I’ll break and give in. If I let it go, I’ll run straight for Tank and forget everything. I would push it all away just to have him back and part of me is scared shitless over it.
But part of me says let it go. Forgive him and move on. No use in dwelling, right? What I wouldn’t give to have all that back, having Tank to myself again. I’d love to be able to wrap myself around him to touch him, kiss him, and to love him without worry and fear. I want him back.
As much as I want to, I just can’t fucking forget. Another part of me says this is just temporary. He’s pulling it together enough to get me back, then he’ll get comfortable and things will fall to shit again. He’ll get me back around and he’ll start remembering and then push me away. I’ll start to lose the Tank I’m seeing now and I can’t go through that again, and I don’t want to see him go through it again either. I don’t think I’ll survive it. And I will not put my child through that. I’m not ready to fight that fight just yet.
So I hold onto the hate and anger. I hold onto the mean. It’s not like I set out to be mean to him every time I see him. I don’t want to push him away from me, but I can’t help it. He smiles at me. He touches me. He’s soft with me and all that bad shit filters back in. Was this how he was feeling with me? I wouldn’t know ‘cause he never said it. I just don’t wanna go through that again. So I protect my heart, along with my baby’s heart. I wait it out until my hearts ready. I wait until I feel it. I wait until I know I can trust him again.
****
“What the hell are you doin’?” Tanks gruff face pops out of the back seat of my Jeep when I kick through the front door of the club. He just stares at me like I’m speaking French.
“You and Gin, what the fuck are you doin’?” I ask, pointing at the two of them for clarification, in case me staring right at him didn’t give him the hint. Still he stares. Tools, an empty box, and my back seat sitting on the cement of the clubs front lot. He just ignores me. Gin just ignores me. What the fuck?
Tugging on the back door, I look inside and around Tanks giant body.
“What the hell? Why’d you take the seat out?”
“Had to anchor this fuckin’ pain in the ass in.”
“What?” I’m so goddamn confused. Shoving a gray car seat base at me he grumbles.
“This stupid fuckin’ thing has to be anchored to your goddamn car. Had to take the seat out.” He’s putting in the car seat? My heart hurts, squeezing in my chest. Suddenly I’m not quite as mad at him as I was ten seconds ago. Why is he taking care of this? I feel tears well up in my eyes.
I can’t stand here while he’s being sweet. “Whatever. Just make sure to put my back seat back in.”
Locking myself in the bathroom, I let the tears come. I cry like a baby. Damn it. Why? He’s making this so fucking hard. His big body crammed into the back of my Jeep, looking uncomfortable and mad. Too big to be in the back of my Jeep yet there he was, doing it for my baby. A knock on the door startles me.
“What?” I snap at the door.
“Baby, what’s wrong?”
“Go away Tank!”
And he does. He leaves. My car is fixed when I let myself out the bathroom. The seat’s back to its original spot with a car seat securely set in my back seat. It’s facing the right way too, mirror attached to my mirror so I can see the baby. Jesus Christ, there’s even a toy hanging on the handle of the car seat. Damn him.
****
Five bags. I can do this. Loading up my arms, I make the trek up to my back door. My back hurts and I do not feel like making extra trips in and out. I just want to unload my groceries, find my sweats, and plop down on my couch. Pushing through my front door, I see a pair of dirty CATS propped up on my coffee table. Seriously? Bright mean blue eyes find me.
“What the fuck Lil?” Hopping up, Tank runs over to me. “Why the fuck are you carryin’ all this shit in at once?”
“Why are you here? Better yet, how’d you get in?” Picking up my bags he looks up at me like I’m crazy for asking. I guess it is a stupid question.
“How the fuck you think I got it?” He shoots back at me.
“Stop pickin’ my goddamn locks. One of my neighbors sees you, they’re gonna call the cops, Roman.” Sitting my bags on the kitchen counter, he glares at me.
“Call me Roman again, imma smack the shit outta you.” He’s so full of shit, his eyes should be brown.
“What do you want, Roman?”
“Fuck,” he mutters under his breath shaking his head. It’s a little fun to pick back at him. I know he hates when I call him Roman and sometimes I just can’t help it.
“So why’d you pick my locks? Lookin’ for a B and E charge?”
Hopping up onto the counter he starts digging through my bags, looking for … who the fuck knows what. So casual. So at home. It’s so normal it starts to hurt. This is the shit I miss the most. The normal every day shit I don’t get because he fucked it all up.
“Like your dress babe.” He nods at my strapless maxi dress. He only likes it because it’s easy access to my tits.
“Don’t avoid my question Roman.” Grabbing a handful of grapes he pops one into his sexy mouth. He stands and stares at me as he chews. Today he looks extra scruffy. He really needs a good shave. His gray tee is dirty and greasy, same with the jeans. But he looks good. So good. Too good.
“Just wanted to come check on you babe.” He’s a liar.
Those crystal blue eyes are dark and mean while he watches me. That face rough and sexy. It reminds me of the first time I saw him, all that big, mean man. I miss touching him so much that I dream about it most nights. Waking up, hot and needy. I want him.
“Fuck me.”
Turning his head slowly back towards me he looks at me like I’ve lost my mind.
“Please?” I go with it. I shut my mind down before I can talk myself out of how fucking stupid I am. I shouldn’t want him. I shouldn’t want this, but I do. I want it so bad I can’t take it.
“You really just say that? Or did I imagine that shit?”
“Don’t make me say it again.” I plead.
“No. I want to hear you say it again Lil.” He demands.
“You heard me.”
He’s off the counter and on me in a second with his hands around my body, pulling me to him. Wrapping his big rough hands around my legs, he picks me up and my ass is set onto the counter. No amount of fight could stop him now. I opened my mouth and said the words. Do I feel wrong about it? Yes. But do I want his hands on me? Yes.
With his hand on the back of my neck, he pulls me in and his lips find mine. They’re harsh and rough.
“You're right, I heard you.” he says roughly around my lips. “You want it baby. Who am I to deprive you?” Running the tip of his tongue over the curve of my lower lip, he hums in admiration. I let it all go. For just these few moments, I pretend I’m not broken.
His rough, calloused fingers draw a path up my leg, slowly touching my skin. No panties and he's working his way up. My skin tingles and burns, my thighs clench in anticipation.
“What are you doing?” I damn well know what he’s doing. I gave him the words and he’s doing it. But then all that bad is trying to break free and fuck this up for me and the doubt settles in. His fingers stop on the inside of my thigh as he stops to look down at me, watching me.
“Do you want me to stop?” he asks. His voice hoarse and deep, and his beard is rubbing on my neck and shoulder. I can’t talk.
Taking my silence as his cue, his fingers start again. At his harsh touch I
shut my mind down and go with it. God I’ve missed this. His other hand explores my naked back, siding a single finger up and down my spine. My body arches into his. I’m wet and ready, and those fingers are killing me slowly. I need him now.
Grabbing his shirt, I tug him as close as I can get him. My legs are wrapped around his hips as I press myself into him. I can't get close enough. Looking into his eyes, I ask for it again.
“Fuck me.”
“Baby, yeah. I got you.” Two long skilled fingers push into me. “I’ve always got you.” Filling me, stretching me. So goddamn good. Letting my head drop onto his shoulder I just feel him. Letting my body feel him, focusing on the sensations. He has one hand on my thigh, fingers digging into my skin that are holding my legs open wide for him. The other hand works me over. His fingers are fucking me into a mess. This isn’t like the last few times he’s touched me. His touch isn’t mean or mad. His touch is reverent this time. He’s still rough like always, but there is no anger there.
Standing in between my legs I can feel how hard he is. I know he wants me. He's always so rough and hard, exactly how I like him. I should be pissed at myself for giving into him, but the truth is, I love him. How can I not?
His fingers are so skilled with my body, making me hot, making that fire burn. Ripping off his shirt, I pull him as close as I can get him. His mouth is on my skin, teeth biting my shoulder and neck. Those hard blue eyes come to my face and fixate on me, taking everything in. His own private show while his fingers work into me. Dragging them slowly back out, watching me.
“Right … there.” So close.
“Right there?” he growls. Slowing his movements, teasing me. I need more. Grabbing his wrist, I try to urge him on, but he pulls back.
He stops all together. My legs still around him, he pulls his fingers out, and gone is my impending orgasm. With a devilish smile, he licks his fingers clean, slowly dragging each one over his tongue, sucking me off his fingers slowly. His eyes are burning with trouble.
“You're filthy,” I tell him honestly.
“And you fuckin' love it.” He states firmly. I do, but I hate that I do.
Letting my hands trail up his arms to the back of his neck, I wind my hands into his hair. It’s been so long since I’ve touched him like this. Tugging his head down to me, I lick a path up his neck to his ear, biting and sucking my way up his soft skin. Both of his hands rest on my thighs, leaning into me. I make my way up and I bite down on his earlobe. He tries to pull away from me, but I lock my legs around him. He’s not leaving now.
“Give it to me motherfucker.”
I’ve never wanted anything more than I want this right fucking now, and he knows it too. He’s going to hold this against me tomorrow ‘cause tonight, I gave him the upper hand. I need the connection again just for this small amount of time. I need to feel something. With a dirty smirk on his lips, he pushes my dress up over my hips. He's enjoying himself. This is his game now.
“Please, Tank.” I beg with tears in my eyes. I can’t hold it in.
No need to ask him twice. He takes only a second to release himself and begins slamming into me. I feel that shit everywhere and I bite down on his shoulder to keep my scream in. I am full and sated, and I finally feel whole again. Body on body. It’s not right that I asked this of him, but I had to. I needed it so goddamn bad. I needed him.
17
Fat Girl Pants
Tank
Everyday gets a little better. Everyday gets a little easier. Last night she let me back in. I got an hour of that shit. I got an hour of what I used to have with her. It wasn’t just sex, it wasn’t just fucking her on a kitchen counter. For the first time in a long fucking time, she needed me. She wanted me. That gave me hope. Then as soon as she let me in, she shut me out. But I was in for that few moments and that shit, in my opinion, is progress. I just need to wear her down. Fuck it, I will wear her down if it’s the last motherfucking thing I do.
I get to see her most days. I get to see her and my baby and that makes all this shit a little bit easier on me. I get that time I so fucking desperately need. She’s letting me come to a doctor’s appointment, she’s not ignoring me, and sometimes I can get that smile that melts all the mean in me. That’s something to look forward to. That is something to be fucking thankful for. She’s letting me back in. Slowly but surely, we’ll get there. We fucking have to ‘cause I won’t live without her or our baby. That shit isn’t even an option for me.
****
Pulling into my driveway, it’s raining hard. So damn hard I had to take my truck to the club. Pulling up to my garage, my headlights shine on my front porch. What the fuck?
Throwing the truck in park, I hop out into the rain like a fuckin’ lunatic. My stomach drops to my feet and I almost break my goddamn neck trying to get out of my truck and to her before she disappears, like a mirage.
“What the fucks wrong Lil?” She’s sitting on my porch, her back leaning against my door and her knees pulled up to her chest. She offers me a weak smile as I make my way toward her. All kinds of crazy shit starts flying around in my head.
“You alright?” Standing over her she looks up at me with those dark, heart breaking eyes.
“I miss you.”
****
Lil’s sitting on the couch in my tee. Her hair’s a mess, curls everywhere. She’s got a pair of my gray wool, heavy duty work socks on her feet, the ones with the red band around the top. Damn things go to her knees. This is something I never thought I’d ever fucking see again. Shit makes me so goddamn happy my chest is bursting with it.
“You need anything baby?” I ask her. Shoving the spoon full of ice cream into her mouth she smiles around the spoon and shakes her head. I’ve missed this and if she tries leaving, I’m fucking tying her ass up.
“I give up Tank.” She tells me quietly. Again my heart stops. Those words could go either way.
“Give up what babe?” I ask her as calmly as possible. I try not to sound like the miserable prick I’ve become. I try not to scare her with my fucking desperation. Scooping a giant spoonful of ice cream up, she crams it into her mouth and shrugs one shoulder.
“Fightin’ it.”
“Lil, I ain’t followin’ you. Just say what you mean, without a mouthful of ice cream.”
In fact, she’s fuckin’ scaring me. If she moves that ass from my couch, I’m not above holding her here against her will. I’ll barricade the fuck outta my front door to keep her here.
“I’m done fightin’ you. I don’t have it in me anymore. I’m more miserable than I was before I left. I just can’t do this shit anymore. I just hope you’ll keep getting better and you’ll start letting me back in. I’ve never wanted you to hurt, and I’m so sorry that I caused you the pain of watching that shit happen to me.”
I fall to my knees in front of her, looking at this beautiful woman who I tore down so relentlessly. How could I have done all this to her?
“I’m done babe. Not gonna put that shit on you anymore. I’ve been working so hard on getting myself through it, and don’t ever apologize to me for what happened to you. I’m sorry for all my insecurities getting dumped onto you. I should have talked to you, or anybody about it, I just didn’t see anyone fixin’ it for me. But I’m fixin’ it Lil. I swear to you, I’m here for you, and we will work through any shit that comes at us.”
She doesn’t say anything. I wait for something, anything.
“I still love you.” She tells me a moment later. I feel a weight lifted. I feel like I can fucking breath again ‘cause those are the words I needed to hear. Fuck I needed them.
“I know you do.” Cocking that beautiful head to the side, she raises that damn eyebrow. “You think so?”
“Yeah, I fuckin’ do.” I know she loves me because if she didn’t, then none of this shit would have bothered her. She’s strong as fuck and the shit I threw at her wouldn’t have mattered if she didn’t fucking love me. She would have walked away a long time ago. My baby w
ouldn’t have cried over someone she didn’t love, and I wouldn’t have been able to break her heart. I know she loves me because she wouldn’t have fought for me, for us, if she didn’t. It’s all right there in those big, brown, heart breaking eyes.
“Cocky fuckin’ asshole,” she scoffs and rolls her eyes at me.
“Goddamn right. Never gonna change, babe.”
****
We watch TV in silence. We started off at opposite ends of the couch, but I let that shit go for about five minutes before I drug her across the couch to me. I can’t sit here next to her. That shit doesn’t work for me. I needed to fucking touch her and if it meant dragging her across the couch, then that’s exactly what I was doing. She didn’t fight me, which is good because I was not in the mood to get into it with her. I just want to lie here and hold her. Feel her, be close to her.
Throwing her arms above her head, she stretches and turns into me with her face pressed into my chest and one of her legs go between mine, and that tiny ass bump is pressed into my stomach.
“That thing get in the way?” I ask her. Out of nowhere she starts laughing. She laughs so hard, she can barely fucking breathe. I love that sound. I let her laugh and enjoy it while I get it too.
“Yes and no. I can’t sleep on my stomach anymore. Pants are starting to become an issue.”
“You need new pants babe?”
“Yes. Big fat girl pants.” She grumbles into my chest. Even if she was nine months pregnant, I doubt she’d need fat girl pants, whatever the fuck fat girl pants are.
“Doubt that baby. You’d be hot as fuck, even if you get huge.”
“I wanna hear you say that in nine months when I look like I ate a couple brothers.”
She wants to hear me say it in nine months? Even if she doesn’t realize it, those few words give me enough hope to cling to. I’m that fucking desperate for her. I latch on to any and every word of hope she’ll feed me. Meaning to or not, she fed me all the hope I need.
