by Jaden Wilkes
“What do you mean?” I ask, confused by his statement.
“Hang on,” he replies and takes his leather jacket off. He’s wearing a simple black tee shirt underneath, his muscular arms are exposed and it hugs his delicious chest. I notice a white bandage on his left forearm.
“What’s that?” I ask and point at the bandage.
“This,” he says and smiles while easing the tape off the sides, “is what I want to show you.” He pulls the bandage back completely and there on his gorgeous, muscled arm is my name. It’s nestled in among his other ink, a beautiful black script spelling JADE. I’ve never loved my name as much as I do at this moment, seeing it in solid black with delicate green edging on his body.
“Oh my God,” is all I manage to say before the tears spring to my eyes. I blink rapidly and fight them off; I bring my hands up to my mouth in surprise. “You crazy fucker,” I continue and laugh.
“What do you mean?” he replies, looking a little hurt, “I thought you’d like it. See the green? It’s my favourite colour now. It’s our colour. I drove the artist crazy until he found the exact colour of your eyes, and your hair the first night we met. Do you remember that?”
“I do,” I smile, “I remember how cheesy my pick up line was, about us matching. I just can’t believe you did this. What if I don’t love you? Do you know how hard it will be to find another Jade out there to date?”
His grin widens and he pulls the bandage back over so it can heal. “That’s the risk I decided to take, I know you love me and I know I love you, that’s all I need. This way everyone I meet will know it too.” His words seem to have kicked the fearful wolf to the curb and all I feel is love. I’m still nervous, but it’s a good nervous energy, not my usual anxious urge to run. I’m there, on his skin and in his heart, permanently.
“Does this mean you don’t hate me?” I whisper, I almost can’t believe he’s here, that’s he’s done this for me…for us.
“I could never hate you,” he says and moves even closer, “does this mean you don’t hate me?”
“I could never hate you,” I reply, “which is a good thing because apparently I’ll be pretty hard to get rid of now.” I gesture towards his arm, where my name is permanently marked on his skin. I feel breathless when I think about this reckless act of his, it feels like his love is official, no need for a ceremony, there I am.
“I don’t want to get rid of you…ever. You know, I was thinking about you a little earlier,” he says and steps even closer, to the edge of the counter, “when I was getting ready to come see you.”
“Oh were you?” I say and raise my eyebrow. “What were you thinking about?”
“I was thinking about your tight, wet cunt squeezing my cock, you know, when I’m buried to my balls inside of you.” He tells me, his eyes sparkle and a smile plays at the edge of his lips. I like flirty Hush. I like his style.
“Oh really,” I reply. I stand up and set my book on the counter next to the drink. “Which time were you thinking of?”
“Every time, babe, every single fucking time I pushed myself inside of you,” he says and leans towards me. We’re almost even when I’m behind the counter, I don’t have to tilt my head that high to meet his gaze. I part my lips and lick them in anticipation of his next words. He reaches out and cups his hand on the back of my neck, his thumb rubs my skin as he continues, “Every time you push yourself against me, grasp me and pull me inside of you.” His eyes are blazing now, his gaze so intense I want to look away, but I don’t. I don’t want my fear to win, I want to feel this love. I deserve to feel this love. “I want to get back inside of you, Jade. Let me back in.”
“I want you in,” I say, my lips still slightly parted. I want him to kiss me, I want him to fuck me and love me and need me as much as I need him.
He complies, he tilts my head up ever so gently and comes back inside...his tongue pushes past mine and slides along it, sending shivers up my spine. I breathe in sharply, then exhale, feel our breath mingling and entering each other. I reach up tentatively, as though I’m afraid he will disappear if I touch him. He doesn’t, and I run my hands up his muscular forearms, up his biceps and to the back of his head. I can feel the soft hair growing in where he used to be shaved. I think I want his mohawk back. He sighs against my lips and pulls back.
“This is not how I want to fuck you again,” he says reluctantly. “I love you, too much to fuck you in the bathroom of a seedy sex shop.”
“It was good enough for us before,” I smile.
“It was, and it will be again,” he agrees, “but for now I want you in my arms, I want to see you open and ready for me. I want to lay you down and cover myself in your scent. Oh, babe, I’m gonna spread you wide and suck your cunt until you’re begging me to fill you up, until you know how much I love you.”
I want this, him, so much I start to tremble. I’m terrified, this is the smug contentment I felt right before he left the first time, I don’t ever want to lose him again. I resist my urge to scream at him or send him out of the store, and allow myself to feel. I’ve never been good at love, not making it, not speaking of it, not ever saying it, so I find myself at a loss for words. Finally I manage to say, “I love you too, so fucking much it hurts me.” I lay my head on his chest and take a long, quavering breath. There, I said it, fuckers, I told him how much I love him.
“I know, but I don’t want it to hurt, I want it to make you feel good” he replies and strokes my hair. It’s growing out and shaggier than ever. Maybe I’ll cut it short again, I don’t know. I might even get Hush’s opinion. God, next I won’t be able to take a shit without telling him. Relationships are hard. “When are you done here? Can I come home with you?”
“I’ve got another couple of hours,” I tell him, “and of course you can. I’d like that.”
We pull apart and spend the rest of the time just talking, reconnecting, and revisiting the crazy attraction that brought us together in the first place.
Just before shift end he asks me, “How’s Eva? You don’t talk about her much anymore.”
“She’s good, but she’s so caught up in life over there I don’t know what to say. I miss her, but I’ve learned to live without her. She’s in some art program and sends me sketches and photographs all the time. I’ll show you some, she’s actually really good,” I tell him, not knowing what else to say. She was my constant companion for years, and now she’s gone and I feel like I’ve been getting over an amputation. Nothing like the hole that Hush left in my heart, but a hollow place exists where she once was. I think about her every day and hope she’s gotten over Diesel. “Have you heard from Diesel and the guys?” I ask him.
“Not since I left the band. I want to get back into music; it’s in my blood. I don’t think I’ll hook up with those guys again...I can’t tell people my band name is Bondo and keep a straight face.”
“Oh my God, I was dying to ask you about the band name, it’s really bad, right?” I tell him and laugh. “I never wanted to offend you, in case you loved it.”
“Come on, you’ve got to give me more credit than that,” he laughs, “they had the name picked out long before I came along.”
“Well, now that I know you don’t like the name, I can be fully open with you,” I smile and bat my eyelashes. This flirting thing is getting easier with him. “I do love you, I love you even more because you think the name is as stupid as I do!”
“Then it’s official, we love each other and I’m going to fuck you stupid when we get back to your place,” he grins.
I can’t do anything but agree. I lean in for another little kiss and the last bit of work flies by.
We get back to my place a little after five in the morning. Hush parks his Range Rover in front of the house and we get out, laughing and chatting a little too loud for that time of the day. I feel tipsy, drunk on the knowing of what is going to happen. Once inside my front door, he carefully removes my jacket and hangs it in the ha
ll closet. He hangs his next to it, shuts the door and we stand there, looking at each other, willing the other to speak.
“Wanna shot of gin?” I say, breaking the silence.
“Yeah, why not,” he replies. We go into the kitchen where I’ve got my last bottle of Bombay Sapphire. I pour us each a half glass, no mix and we down it in one gulp. We set our glasses on the counter at the same time and look at each other again, silent.
“Fuck this,” Hush growls without warning and sweeps me up in his arms. “I don’t want to wait, I can’t wait,” he whispers in my ear, “I need to taste your sweet cunt, I need to feel you right now.”
I moan my agreement and feel myself heating up at the thought of his tongue assaulting my clit. He kisses my throat, he reaches up and wraps his hand around it while he nibbles and bites the side of my neck. I go from zero to sixty in a couple of seconds. I’m down to fuck at the drop of a hat when Hush is involved. His other hand trails down my stomach and creeps under my skirt, forcing it up over my hips. I thrust my pelvis forward to allow his hand easier access to my slit; he finds it and slides his rough finger along the outer lips, teasing me, playing with the light fuzz growing there.
“Oh come on,” I breathe into his ear and gasp when he grazes my clit with his fingertip.
“What are you after, babe?” he smiles against my cheek and nuzzles my neck again. His finger lingers on my outer cunt fold, teasing me mercilessly.
“You know what I want,” I tell him and try to push myself against him to force his fingers inside of me. He’s having none of it though, and keeps himself away from my clit.
“I want you to say it,” he orders, and bites my neck. Shockwaves of pleasure travel up and down my body and I tremble with my need. “Fucking say it, tell me what you want me to do to your cunt, your sweet dripping cunt.”
“I need you to lick me,” I manage to get out between ragged breaths. “I need you to taste me, suck me dry and fill me up again with your hot cum. I need to feel you dripping down my thighs, I need-”
His swift movement cuts me off; he drops to his knees in front of me, tears the thin tights off my body and dives into my cunt like a starving man. I moan again and wrap my hands around the back of his head. I tilt myself to meet his eager mouth and spread my legs slightly so he can suck my clit. He works his tongue against my inner folds, stabbing at my entrance and lapping up the pussy juice already oozing from me there.
He works his way towards my clit so he can thrust a couple of fingers up inside of me. My knees almost buckle at the sensation, but I hold onto him to keep me steady. I can hear the delicious, wet noises of his tongue on my clit and his fingers fucking me slowly and I can’t keep myself off him, I need him inside of me more than I need air at that moment.
Like an animal in a frenzy of heat, I slide away from him and drop down to my knees in front of him. I kiss his surprised face and taste my salty sweetness on his lips. This drives me harder and I help him wiggle out of his pants. For this he stands in front of me and slides them down his long, muscular legs. “You look amazing on your knees,” he smiles down at me and tosses them to the side.
“This is where I belong,” I grin and grab his thick cock. He reaches down and grabs my hair, twists his hand in it and holds me firmly in place.
“I think I like this longer hair on you,” he says, “more for me to hang on to.”
I lean towards his cock, but he drags me back up. “Not now, babe, I need to pound your cunt more than I’ve ever needed anything in my fucking life. I need you twitching and wiggling on the end of me, I need to see your eyes when I hit the end of your pussy and shoot my load inside of you, I need you up here.” He pulls me up until I am standing. He doesn’t let go of my hair, but wraps his other arm around me and lifts me onto him, impaling me in one quick thrust.
I hang onto his body and cry out as he pumps into me with frenzied madness. His breath comes quickly, his eyes are bright with lust and love, and I know this is it. This is the man I want to fuck like a whore for the rest of my life. This is the man I want to give myself to, heart and soul and body. I would deny him nothing, no part of me is off limits to him and this no longer terrifies me. There is a freedom in the acceptance, the knowledge that I would lie down in front of him and let him do anything he could think of...and the knowledge that whatever he chose to do, he loves me.
“I love you,” I pant against his chest, his hand clenches my hair tighter and he drags my head back. His other hand is cupped under my ass, supporting me as he looks into my eyes.
“I love you too,” he says and thrusts inside of me. “I love you more than I thought possible,” he continues with another thrust. “I’m almost there...cum with me, let me feel your cunt tighten around me, come on babe, my little slut, my fucking whore, come for me.” He leans down and bites my shoulder hard, the pain shoots out from the point of contact and I pitch straight into a new territory, of love and lust and pain and pleasure. I scream out his name as his body tenses and I feel his hot release shooting into me, marking me as his.
I gasp as he softens the bite on my shoulder; he replaces teeth with tongue and slides it slowly along my skin. My pussy twitches with the aftershock of the intense shared orgasm and he nibbles my neck in response. I feel him relax. He removes his hand from my hair and slowly allows me to drop to the floor. I stand in front of him, my hair a mess, my skirt pulled up and my tights ripped and hanging in tatters on my legs. I gingerly step out of them and look at him.
“So now what?” I ask, feeling giddier than before. The gin and excitement of newly accepted love are really sending me into a spin, I feel like running to the street and screaming to the world that I found my one true love. Of course I don’t, seriously, like I ever would. But it is a fun thought, to let this love make me that reckless and open to anything.
“I need to lay down with you,” he says and takes my hand. “I want to spend the day with you, sleeping and fucking and planning our future in whispered voices under the covers.” Be still my beating heart, my punk rock fantasy is a fucking poet. I smile and lead him to my bed. I wonder if I’ll ever tell him about that cheesy howling wolf tee shirt and how it lead me back to him. Probably not. I don’t know how I could ever say it without sounding like a crazy woman.
True to his word, we spend the day wrapped in each other, our limbs, our whispers, our breath, all entwined in our perfect world, here under the blankets.
When I was a kid, I was left alone in strange motel room a lot. Or, if I was lucky, some friend my mom had made until she used and abused her way out of said friend's life. A friend’s house meant a fridge and cupboards to raid, but a motel room meant unlimited TV, so either way it was a few stolen moments by myself.
To combat my fears, I would hide under the blankets. Everything would melt away when I was in my secret word, warmed by my breath and muffled by the blankets. I don’t know why I continue to do it to this day, but I do. Here with Hush the magical quality is seemingly doubled.
“I want you to come next week, to my defense,” he says as I’m in his arms, snoozing happily.
“What do you mean defense, are you on trial?” I smile and twist my body so I can look at him. He just invited me into his real world, the world where he is Nicolas Harrington junior...or second...whatever. He’s inviting me into his life.
“Ha. Ha. If anything you should be locked up,” he grins, “for stealing my heart.”
I groan and fake punch his chest. “Come on, you can do better than that.”
“I know I can, ok, how about I want you to be there in the lecture theatre when I defend my dissertation...my lady.”
“I’ll think about it,” I say and flip onto my back, still nestled in his arms.
“You’ll think about it?” he cries out in mock indignation. “You’ll think about it? You’re killing me here.”
I look up at him again and say, “Of course I’ll come, I want to be there to support you.”
H
e smiles, content at my response. His hands start to travel along my flesh, as if they have a life of their own. I settle back down and let him massage my arms, my breasts, my stomach. He kneads my flesh in deep, slow, sensual strokes and I exhale, a sigh of contentment.
“Here, let me get on top of you,” he says and pushes up onto his elbow.
“Oh wow, what a romantic,” I laugh and roll onto my stomach. He straddles me and starts to massage my back, those long, sensual strokes again, I feel like I’m turning liquid under his hands.
“This is what I meant,” he says, trailing his long fingers up my spine. He grips the back of my neck and rubs me there. I feel myself heating up, my pussy is already aching for him to slide himself back inside of me, but I concentrate on his touch. He goes up on his knees and bends over, I feel his hot breath on the back of my neck and he bites me there. I cry out, not in pain, but pleasure. He’s found my ultimate weakness, the back of the neck. Of course he knows that about me now, I can’t keep anything from him.
He twists my flesh in his teeth and slides his hand back down my spine, to the top of my ass. I pant and twist, trying to escape the pain, but not really trying that hard. I tilt my ass upwards to receive his finger and he complies. He slides two or three down my wet slit into my entrance. He wiggles them, straightens them and starts to fuck my pussy while he’s got me pinned by the back of the neck. I moan into the pillow, and push myself against him, begging him for more. I want his cock inside of me now, as much as I want to love him, I want to fuck him.
Hush pulls back, releasing my neck. “Oh babe, that’s so fucking sexy, I’ve left my mark on you,” he whispers in a hoarse voice. I love that I’m marked as his; I think about getting his bite tattooed there, a permanent reminder that I’ll be his forever.
“Fuck me,” I pant and push myself harder against his hand. “Please,” I beg, “I need you to fuck my cunt.”
