by Amy Daws
“It’s so weird,” I croak out, my knees bent as my elbows rest on them. My head is dropped between my legs as I attempt to come back down to reality.
“Vivid dream maybe? Just residual memories?” Liam offers helpfully, stroking the cool cloth over my skin. “Do you want to tell me about it?”
I exhale a shaky breath. The truth is…the dream wasn’t far from what really happened. I was fifteen when I got the roses. It was in a dingy basement and the guy told me he only did freehand. And, despite the dreary surroundings, the man had created art on my skin.
“I was fifteen when I got this tattoo,” I croak, wiping a light sheen of sweat off my forehead. “I was dreaming of that.”
“Fifteen? I bet your mom flipped.”
I shake my head. I was practically begging to get into trouble and she just smiled at me. “That’s the thing…she didn’t. She didn’t even punish me. Nothing.”
“What’s the meaning behind it? You never told me earlier.”
Steeling myself I reply. “I’m a quad. I was born a quadruplet with three sisters. We were born super early and basically lived in incubators for months. I was the only one who lived.” As soon as the words tumble from my mouth, I’m shocked.
“God, I had no idea. You’ve never said.”
“You only know what I want you to, Liam. I’ve never told anyone I’m a quadruplet…except Marisa.” The sound of her name brings a calm to me in that moment. I’m momentarily distracted by the idea that I’ve never even revealed this much about myself to Hayden. What is it about Liam that makes me want to open up so much?
“So the three roses represent them? Your sisters? But what about the text?”
I can feel Liam’s eyes on me but I can’t bring myself to look at him. This question isn’t as easy to answer. My whole life I lived feeling like someone else would have been better here instead of me. When you have your choice of four and you end up with me, it doesn’t really leave you thinking you hit the jackpot.
“My mother gave me a love that I couldn’t understand. I couldn’t believe it. It wasn’t unconditional like most would think. In some ways it felt entirely conditional.”
“How so?”
I remove the cloth from him and toss it to the floor. I touch the roses tenderly. “Her love was completely based on the fact that I survived. And that was it. I was the one of four quadruplet girls that lived. Her love didn’t feel personalized for me. Just for the miracle that she said I was. She even made Miracle my fucking middle name.”
“I never knew that either. How is that possible?”
“It’s not something I tell people. It’s embarrassing. Then my dad died when I was five, as you already know. And it’s like she snapped. I could do no wrong in her eyes. It didn’t matter what I said or did, how naughty I was as a child. Or even who I was as a person. She was going to love me regardless because I lived. That’s it. That was the only condition for her love. I was the most perfect being ever created.
“But the problem was—my outsides didn’t match my insides. If anything, I feel like I was twenty-five percent of a person…No miracle. And no matter what I did growing up, no matter how hard I rebelled, how awful I was…my mother always just smiled.
“This tattoo was just the beginning of my ink obsession. The pain I felt getting them done was almost as meaningful as the image that was represented. The ache of the needle digging in over and over was blissful agony to me. It was the most alive and imperfect I had felt in my entire life. The pain made me feel real. Un-miraculous.”
“But what’s so wrong with being called a miracle?” he challenges.
I roll my eyes and turn to face him, sitting criss-cross. Moonlight shines in from the three portholes above the bed, casting a blue glow over the white linen sheets. “It isn’t reality, Liam. Loving someone like that just because they exist. It isn’t fair. I was so awful and the more awful I got, the more I felt like I shouldn’t have been the one. I shouldn’t have been the one to survive.”
“That’s crazy, Rey.”
“It’s not crazy!” I snap defensively. “I’ve dreamt of my sisters, Liam.” My voice cracks on his name and two errant tears slip down my cheeks. I swipe them away angrily. “It’s like I feel them with me and it just makes me feel like I cheated destiny somehow.”
“Rey, how can you say that?” He reaches out and cups my face so I can’t look away from him. His thumbs slide along the wet paths as his eyes swim with emotion. “Do you not see yourself for all that you are?”
I shake my head and feel completely transparent in front of him right now. Surrendering, I reply, “It’s a painful thing not living up to other people’s standards of you. It’s an even more painful thing when you’re not even surprised.”
“Fuck,” he growls.
Staring at my lips, Liam’s mouth follows his gaze. I pull back before our mouths touch, but he doesn’t release my face.
“Liam. We shouldn’t.”
“I have to, Rey. I have to kiss these lies off of your mouth or I will die.”
The intensity in his scrutinous expression is breathtaking. Seconds tick by and my eyes continue to rapidly shift between each of his, seeing no flicker of doubt. “You can’t, Liam. You just can’t.” My vision blurs with tears.
“Try to fucking stop me.” He connects our mouths and the taste of his words and the utter feeling of devotion in his embrace is all encompassing.
His grip on my face loosens as I begin to return his kiss. I’m powerless against it. It’s like nothing I’ve ever gifted myself before. Even when we slept together in college, it wasn’t like this. It wasn’t this pure, this powerful, this demanding.
He moves to lie over the top of me, never breaking our lips. I can taste his cinnamon toothpaste and it’s everything I’ve fantasized about for years since our first night together. I spread my legs as he pushes himself up against me.
He releases my lips and looks down at me with wide, fearful eyes. “Rey, I need you not to think about this. I need you not to stop this. We both need this and I’m begging you to just live in it with me. Please.”
His lips pucker in that seriously seductive way as he waits for my answer. Unable to find my voice, I nod shakily and he rushes my mouth again. We can’t get each other naked fast enough. After stripping my T-shirt and yanking down his shorts, we slide our bare bodies together, moaning breathlessly at the erotic sensation of our skin gliding along one another.
He pauses our motions and drops his head down to my sleeved arm. Running his cheek up from my wrist to my shoulder, a low grumble echoes in his chest that has my pelvis thrusting up greedily towards his. He pauses and moves across my chest, dropping a feather light kiss on each one of my hardened nipples, darting his warm and wet tongue out for a quick, light stroke.
With an aching need, I want to grip his face and shove him against my chest, but I refrain. He looks up at my face, smiles softly with that sexy mouth of his and then connects his lips to my rose-covered collarbone. His hot tongue flicks and licks a trail all the way to my jaw, his lips nibbling the entire way. Unable to withstand another second of this torture, I grab his face and yank his lips back to mine, swirling my tongue into his mouth to taste the path he so gloriously sucked.
Groaning loudly in my mouth, he murmurs something about a condom and without warning, he’s off of me and leaning over to the nightstand. “Fuck, I want to do this, Rey. I want to do this with you so bloody badly. You’re just so…fucking…stunning in every way.”
Grateful he didn’t call me perfect, I nod my approval and watch him push the condom over his throbbing erection. I bite my lip as his muscular body crawls its way back between my legs. He grips his condom-covered dick and firmly strokes the tip on my wet and slickened center. He releases himself and decides to first plunge two thick fingers deep inside of me.
I turn my head sideways and moan at the unimaginable pleasure his touch has on me. God, it’s just his fucking fingers and I’m positively writhing bene
ath him. Noticing how strongly I’m reacting, Liam continues pumping me with his two digits, grunting sexily, as my cries grow louder and louder.
“God, Liam! Liam!” I scream as I tighten and climax around his fingers. Holy fucking hell.
My eyes flutter open as he pulls his hand out and strokes his moistened digits over my lips. His mouth crashes down on mine and he pulls my lower lip into his mouth to suck my arousal off.
The whole thing is erotic as fuck.
As he stops sucking on my lip, his hand returns to his dick and he guides it slowly into me. The stretching his size causes in the wake of my orgasm is overwhelming. I’m raw and oversensitive and the desire shooting through me is positively carnal. I reach up and grab his face, pulling him back to my mouth to put action onto the ridiculous effect he’s having on me.
“God, you’re so beautiful,” he says against my mouth as he rests his forehead on mine. That delicious cinnamon breath on my face has me pulling him inside of me further.
“So are you,” I pant out because he is. He so fucking is.
“I prefer ruggedly handsome,” he murmurs as he thrusts into me at a deliciously slow pace. I can feel the smirk on his lips.
“Shut up and fuck me.” I reach up and bite his perfectly pouty lip.
His chest vibrates with laughter, but that’s exactly what he does. He quickens his pace—his face intense as he brings me to a place that I’m not all together comfortable being in. Confusion washes over me with every thrust of his hips. I attempt not to slip deeper into those thoughts—to just enjoy the feel of him sinking into me and hitting that exceedingly tantalizing G-spot.
But I can’t help it.
I begrudgingly gaze into his eyes and know without a doubt that this act we’re performing right now feels so much more intimate than anything I’ve had before. What we’re doing is for a pure and intense connection. It’s not just a coping mechanism. It’s not a raw, carnal need to fuck. It’s a deep, burning urge to feel. And despite myself, for the briefest of moments, I allow my heart to feel the sensation of being the object of someone’s love.
True, unconditional love.
Meaningful change is always painful. It’s always resisted. And it’s always awkward. Add in a sexy British blond alpha and it’s downright confounding.
In grad school, I was always careful around Liam. The feelings I would get in my chest every time I saw him were so poignant, avoidance was necessary. He would drop subtle hints, like he saw me for something more than I was, but I would shut it down every time. I even tried to avoid listening when he’d tell stories about his upbringing or fun things he did with his friends and family. The more I knew about him, the more I would care. I didn’t like caring. I didn’t like feeling.
I never wanted to end up with anyone. That much I knew. The loss of my sisters is something I carry with me every day. And the loss of my father when I was finally beginning to store memories of him was like a sick, cruel joke that destiny played on me.
My father died of a fluke heart issue when he was only thirty-six-years-old. He was extremely fit. I remember him running on our treadmill every single night because it used to be where I’d have to go to kiss him goodnight.
Now, my lasting memory of him was my mother dragging his limp, naked body out of the shower and administering CPR on our white tiled floor all while screaming at me to dial 911. It was a sight no child should ever have to see of her parents. And no matter how hard I try to hold onto the good memories, all that really stuck was the image of my mother’s short body wailing over the top of him as the paramedics came on the scene.
The sight was stained on my mind.
The doctors said it was probably something he lived with his whole life and never knew. And to this day, I still couldn’t decide on a tattoo to memorialize him. I went a few times to the tattoo studio, but I always turned around. Nothing worked.
Then slowly, through the years, I became expert at pushing people hard enough to keep them at arm’s length. It was survival. The only example of love I had was the warped and frustrating and completely unbelievable devotion that my mother gave me.
I hated it.
I didn’t want it.
It wasn’t for me.
To be loved…truly loved…was a distinct impossibility for me.
When Liam said those words to me that night we slept together in school, I was blind. Just like last night. I got caught up in the moment and allowed myself to forget that Liam belonged with someone who was like Marisa. Marisa was wonderful. Marisa was good.
And nothing about me has changed. If anything I’ve only gotten more dark and twisted since losing my best friend.
Allowing the water to cascade down my skin, my mind wanders back to everything Liam and I did to each other last night. The soft sway of the boat as he rocked himself into me was completely mind-blowing. How he had me taste myself was unlike anything I have ever experienced sexually. Then later when he flipped me over and pulled my back against his chest and squeezed my breasts so hard I thought he’d leave bruises.
Fuck it was hot.
Liam didn’t fuck like a college boy anymore. Liam fucked like a man.
And damn if it didn’t turn me on like crazy.
I had my fair share of sexual experiences back in high school. That didn’t stop when I came to London. I was the interesting American so the boys at university were all keen to get to know me. Nothing ever lasted much more than a night. Except for Toby Brentano. He was vile and had a habit of saying the worst things to me while we fucked. Things like ‘worthless bitch’ and ‘dirty whore’ and ‘ugly twat.’ I tolerated it all because Toby wasn’t saying anything that I didn’t already think of myself anyway.
I kicked Toby to the curb soon after I started my masters. At that point I became more interested in my education and less interested in rebelling and pissing my mother off. Plus, I met Marisa. She was really good for me. She didn’t completely change my wild ways, but she made me feel different somehow.
Then Liam came along and it felt like all I was doing was fighting a crazy attraction to him that I had zero interest in pursuing. Regardless of my distaste for all things beautiful, watching Liam and Marisa together became a new kind of emotional cutting for me. They were so happy and at ease with each other. Natural. I would have my ear buds in, blasting my weird indie hip hop and just stare at them sitting near me, giggling together. It made me sick in so many ways because I knew I’d never feel like that with anyone.
And right now, all I wanted to do was bolt. I wanted to walk to the nearest train station and get the hell back to London where I could keep myself locked away in my own urban bubble. This fresh air was messing with me. But last night Liam had asked me not to think. He said “we needed this.” So perhaps sleeping together this weekend is something we both can do to get ourselves back on track. Sow our wild oats. Explore the curiosity we had for each other in school and then forget it.
A guy like Liam doesn’t end up with a girl like me. No one does. Not even close.
“Stop thinking!” Liam’s voice growls. Suddenly the shower curtain is ripped open on me to reveal Liam in his glorious birthday suit. “I swear your thoughts woke me from a very contented sleep just moments ago.”
My hands awkwardly attempt to cover myself and he rolls his eyes knowingly. I glance down at his body as he steps over the tub edge and into the shower. He immediately dips his head beneath the hot stream. The large waterfall showerhead in the center of the ceiling soaks him as he scrubs his hair and face. I can’t help but ogle every single inch of him as the water finds sexy, muscular divots to ride down the length of his body.
Following the water path, I see that Liam is definitely wide awake this morning. I look up to find him watching me staring and I can’t help but crack a grin. He shoots a lopsided smile at me that almost immediately vanishes all of my dark thoughts from earlier.
“I was sleeping really well you know. Better than I have in years until your thoughts star
ted barreling through the thin boat walls.”
“Whatever,” I explain. “It was those damn swans that woke me. They are a neighborhood nuisance!”
His brows waggle in that charming boyish way. “Yeah, who bloody likes swans?”
“Not me! Too perfect.” I turn my back on him and stick my head under the water to rinse the last bits of conditioner out.
His whiskered chin slides down from my ear to my neck as he murmurs, “I like imperfect.”
My body goes tense instantly. I turn my head to take in his expression and he’s eyeing me inquisitively, clearly waiting for my reaction. I turn to face him and his gaze lazily slides from my mouth to my body.
Without looking at my face, he says, “Don’t get squirrely on me, Rey, or I’m going to fuck you right now to get you to stop thinking. And I didn’t bring a condom in here with me.”
“Liam, I just don’t want you to get the wrong idea—”
I cry out loudly as his head ducks low and snatches one of my nipples into his mouth. Sucking hard, he then taps his teeth lightly on the pebbled nub in a gloriously threatening manner.
“Ah!” I exclaim and pull his face into my chest to stop him from pulling back on my nipple any further. “They’re kind of attached!”
He instantly relaxes his bite and begins suckling and licking in a completely pleasurable way. His hands find my rear and pull me into his hard on.
“I thought you said you didn’t bring a condom,” I shamelessly moan, bracing my hand out on the wall for support.
He looks up at me with a ferocious expression as the water pours heavily over his face. “I don’t need one for what I’m about to do,” he says through the stream. Then, he drops to his knees before me. He slowly slides his hand from my right ankle to my knee, lifting it up and placing it on his shoulder. He looks proudly at my center for one brief second before burying his face in me like a man on a mission to find my deepest, darkest secrets.
I scream out instantly when I feel his teeth brush my clit and grip my other hand on the shower rod. Balancing myself, I move one of my hands to fist in his hair as he assaults my vertical slit with his skilled mouth. Feeling him moan between my thighs sends shooters all down my legs, and I swear they’re going to give out. Liam supports my balance with his hands on my backside as they stroke and fondle my crack the entire time.
