by Amelia Mae
“You’re crying,” he says.
Then he moves off of me and pulls me into his arms, against his chest and lets me get it all out.
“What’s wrong with me?” I ask myself out loud, “Fuck, I really want to do this.”
He takes a deep breath and holds me close me until I stop shuddering.
God, he feels nice. He’s warm and strong and his scent surrounds me. His breath times with mine and I feel the panic subside. My heartbeat eventually slows to normal.
I move to kiss his lips. He accepts, but after a brief moment, guides my head to his shoulder.
“Not right now, sweetheart,” he breathes.
“Why not?”
“I don’t take advantage of crying girls.”
I settle into him.
“Sheesh, you won’t fuck me when I’m drunk. You won’t fuck me when I’m crying,” I tease, trying to make light of the world’s most awkward situation. “What the hell kind of man are you?”
Shawn doesn’t laugh. He just looks deep into my eyes and runs his fingers gently through my hair and asks, “What happened, Aya?”
12
Aya
“I’m not sure how heavy a conversation I want to have with someone I’m only seeing temporarily,” I admit, “I mean, Cora doesn’t even know the whole story.”
Shawn nods. “I know you and I are going to go our separate ways in a few months, but it’s not like we’ll never see each other again. I’m never going to forget you, Aya. You’ll always mean something to me.”
I take a deep breath.
Okay, Aya, you can do this.
“Here goes,” I start, a little shaky. “I… My ex, Greg… Um… Did I ever tell you that I was in law school?”
Shawn shakes his head no. “Really?”
I nod. “I had almost gotten through my first year when this all went down. I was dating this guy…”
“Greg.”
“Yeah,” I continue, “And things were going well. We went to undergrad together and we both got in to the same law program and everything was really perfect until I realized that I wasn’t in love with him anymore.”
“Oh,” Shawn says, “Did you get bored with him or something?” He sounds strangely worried.
“No,” I tell him, “It’s that Greg was… Greg was a bro. You know the type?”
“Yeah. I think so.”
“He did a lot of stupid shit. Pulled pranks with his frat brothers. Drank like a fish. Never had to try that hard because his daddy had money.”
“I know the type. Sounds like you outgrew him.”
“Exactly,” I say, “I outgrew him. So I decided to break up with him. I didn’t want to hurt him, but I didn’t want to string him along either. And it’s not exactly like he was hurting for female attention.”
“He cheated on you?”
“No. But he could have any girl he wanted. Something he enjoyed reminding me of.”
“He sounds like a douche,” Shawn grimaces.
“He had his moments,” I say with an eye roll, “Anyway, I broke up with him and he seemed okay with it. I expected him to get really mad and irrational, but he kept it together and just left.
“And then the next day, I went to class and people were looking at me funny. My friends were avoiding me. Complete strangers were laughing as I passed. I was like, what the fuck, and then I got the link.”
“To what?”
“Okay, this is the real fun part,” I say, collecting myself, “One night, I got kinda plastered. Greg was pouring me Long Islands and when I was good and sloshed, he kinda convinced me it would be fun to film ourselves fucking.”
“I think I know where this is going,” Shawn says. I can hear the worry in his voice.
“Pretty much,” I confirm, “He uploaded the whole video to some revenge porn site. You know? Where guys go to shame their exes after they get dumped?”
Shawn says nothing. His fists clench. His eyes narrow. He takes a deep, slow breath.
He’s mad.
I’ve never seen Shawn get mad.
I’ve never even seen him get slightly pissed.
Fuck, he wasn’t kidding. When he’s worked up, he’s really worked up.
“Well, we tried to press charges, but there isn’t much you can do. The law really hasn’t caught up to the technology. And as long as the majority of the victims are women, no one seems to be making much of an effort,” I tell him.
“True.”
“My mom and I went to the disciplinary committee and we got him suspended, but the damage was done. My reputation was trashed. Even today, that video is probably still there.
“I figured I’d never be taken seriously as a lawyer when opposing counsel could literally pull up a picture of my tits on their phones, so I dropped out of school,” I continue, my own anger surfacing for the first time in years.
“So he cost you your career?” he asks.
“To be honest, I don’t know if I ever loved law the way I love dance, but he did destroy that possibility,” I tell him. But the worst part was that my mom was… really ashamed of me. Like, she knew it wasn’t my fault and she’s not a prude, but no one should have to see their child like that.”
Shawn says nothing, but I can see a thick vein pulsating in his neck. Fuck, he’s intimidating.
“Anyway, started working at the club because I didn’t know what else to do.” I take another deep breath. “It felt like he took everything from me.”
“He did,” Shawn mutters through gritted teeth.
“Yeah.”
“God, Aya. I’m so sorry.” Shawn puts his big arms around me. I relish the comfort, but I don’t sink into him just yet.
“That’s when I got the dragon tattoo,” I tell him, “It’s when I started getting all of the tattoos and dying my hair and taking pole dancing classes. The dragon was first. I was reclaiming my body and my sexuality and I started with my tits.”
I look up at him, braced for the judgement. The how could you be so stupid. The shaming.
But I don’t get that from him.
I crash into his arms and let him hold me.
“So that’s my whole story,” I conclude, “Why I’m such a fucking weirdo.”
“Not weird,” he says, “Totally understandable. If I ever meet this guy, I’ll fucking kill him.”
“I’ll fucking help you.” I let out the breath I’d been holding.
“Thank you for telling me.” He keeps his voice low. “I’m honored that you trusted me with that.”
“I actually feel better now,” I say, “Better than I’ve been in awhile.”
I do feel good. But, very drained. Like telling Shawn all that zapped me of my energy. He eases me down on to the pillow, on my side, his chest against my back like a protective shell. I fall asleep that way.
13
Shawn
It’s going to be a fitful night’s sleep for me.
I mean… I can deal with the blue-balls. But, the fire coursing through my veins and my pulse throbbing in my temples, is another story.
Mother of fucking baby Jesus, I’m angry.
I mean, breakups suck. Sure. I get the rejection and hurt feelings and all that shit. But to do something like that… To take something so private and put it out there for the world to see… What kind of person…
I can’t even formulate the words.
Aya is fast asleep in my arms. She looks peaceful and unburdened and I’m relieved.
But that doesn’t help the rage in my heart right now. Or the need to beat the shit out of something.
After an hour or so of being angry, horny and half-awake, I gently nudge Aya off of me, place the blanket over her and head into the kitchen. I pour myself a glass of water and drink it quickly.
I spy a half-empty bottle of Jameson on the counter.
Fuck it. Maybe this’ll help me sleep.
I pour a healthy amount into a tumbler and sip slowly, enjoying the burn.
I lean against the count
er and close my eyes.
Nothing. Not relaxing. Still mad as hell.
And the alcohol is making it worse.
I picture what I’d do to this fucker if I ever saw him. Tear into him. Beat him bloody. Make sure he never messed with her or anyone else ever again.
I slam back the last of my whiskey and head into the practice room where, among our instruments and other equipment, Jack and I installed a punching bag so we don’t take our disagreements out on each other.
I’ve never used it. Never needed to.
I don’t bother taping my hands, I just lay into the bag.
I don’t know how long I’ve been punching this fucking thing and I don’t care. I just grit my teeth and give it all I have, delivering blow after blow until I’m out of breath and a thin sheen of sweat coats my skin.
I suck in a deep breath. My body is spent and my hands are all torn up. But I wipe my brow on my forearm and keep throwing punches.
In my mind, I’m giving this asshole everything he deserves for what he did to Aya.
In my mind, I’m restoring Aya’s faith in men and in relationships.
My knuckles bleed.
I pant for breath.
I feel like a wild animal. Feral. Ready to attack.
And I’m really fucking hard.
Then I hear footsteps coming towards me. Soft, graceful ones.
Aya tiptoes into the room with my blanket wrapped around her. It falls off her shoulders in the most teasing way, exposing her neck and collarbone. Her hair is mussed and she’s wiped off all of her makeup.
Jesus, she looks like an angel.
“Hey,” she says, her voice kind of breathy and quiet.
I stop punching. I try to cover my scraped up hands, but I don’t have much to hide behind.
“Hi sweetheart,” I reply.
Her eyes lower. I feel exposed now too. Naked, hard, sweaty and bleeding.
She eases her body to mine and wraps her arms around my waist. She presses her lips to my throat.
“Come back to bed with me,” she says in that sex-kitten whisper. “I need you.”
A pang of lust hits me square in the chest and I let out a low groan. Between the need to protect her and wanting her like fucking crazy, I can feel myself going full caveman.
I pick her up, throw her over my shoulder and carry her to the bedroom, throw her down onto the bed and crawl on top, giving her a searing kiss on the lips as I circle her opening with my thumb.
“Yes,” she gasps, “God, yes.”
I slip one finger inside. Then two. I don’t know how much foreplay I have the patience for. I need to be inside her right now.
She’s dripping wet, ready for me.
Thank God.
I suck my finger clean and lean down again to kiss her fiercely, letting her taste herself on my tongue. I kiss her till she’s breathless.
I’m in no mood to be gentle.
Calm, chill Shawn has left the building.
“Fuck me, Shawn,” she moans, “Fuck me hard. Please. I need it.”
I pull her knees apart and guide her thighs around my hips so she can wrap her legs around me. Her feet kick into my back.
“You want it hard, sweetheart?” I hiss and I line myself up with her entrance. “I’ll give it to you fucking hard. I’ll give it to you so hard you feel me tomorrow.”
I tease her with the tip of my dick just to get her moaning, but after just a few seconds, I can’t take it anymore and I thrust inside her, burying myself to the hilt in one rough push that makes Aya scream my name in pleasure-pain.
Her nails dig deep into my back and pull.
Good.
I’m going to ravage her. It’s only fair she marks me too.
“More,” she orders, grabbing my hips as I start moving, “God, Shawn, you feel so fucking good.”
“You too, sweetheart,” I grunt out, “So damn tight. So good.”
I thrust into her again and again, slowly, but punishingly hard, knowing that I’m hitting the right spot because Aya’s eyes roll back and her spine arches up, offering her tits to me.
I roll my hips again, faster and faster, and suck one hard nipple into my mouth. She weaves her fingers into my hair and tugs. I pick up the pace.
That gets a delicious groan from her.
“You like that, don’t you, sweetheart?” I growl into her ear, “You like being split in half by my big dick.”
She moans some string of vowels in response. I watch her unravel. She’s practically delirious.
“Tell me you like it” I seethe, knowing she’s close, “Don’t hold back.”
I reach down to thumb her clit and her cries get even louder.
“I want to make you feel good Aya. I want to make you feel so good you could die.”
I feel her tighten around me. She’s so close.
“Fuck. Shawn,” she gasps, “I’m gonna come.”
“Yeah you are. Come for me, sweetheart. Come all over my cock.”
I slide into her over and over again as she lets go. Her eyes glaze over, her muscles relax and I watch her slip into that incredible state of oblivion.
It’s mesmerizing.
It’s like watching her sink underwater.
I hold her steady while wave after wave of orgasm rips through her and she whisper-moans my name.
It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
It takes a good few minutes, but she comes to and I’m still inside her. Still rock hard. And not making an effort to do anything about it.
Her eyes meet mine and she opens her mouth. “You didn’t come yet,” she breathes.
“I…”
She shakes her head and her expression instantly fades from that sleepy post-orgasm haze to raw and hungry.
“I need to feel you come inside me,” she whispers, trying to slip out from underneath me.
“What are you…”
“Get on your back,” she commands.
I’d be a fool to say no to that. I untangle our bodies, watching my slick cock slide out of Aya, and roll to my back.
She slithers down my body, grabs the base of my cock and lowers her head. She gives me a long, hard suck, swirling her tongue around the head.
“Fucking dirty, Aya.”
“You’re not the only one who likes to tease,” she hisses.
She stops sucking and runs her hands up and down my torso, slowly, stopping at my lower abs to trace the V-lines. I know she likes touching my chest, but my cock is weeping for attention and I can’t take it anymore.
“For the love of fuck, sweetheart, finish what you start,” I groan, “Suck me off.”
She shakes her head no.
“I want to ride you,” she tells me.
Yes. Please. Now.
She straddles me, one knee on either side of my hips and lowers herself onto my dick slowly. I watch myself disappear inside of her.
She spreads her knees wider, letting me get even deeper.
My eyes close all on their own. It’s too much.
She braces herself, her hands on my chest, and starts riding me.
Her eyes close. Her mouth opens slightly. She’s taking what she wants as she gives me what I need.
She picks up the pace and her tits bounce.
I cup her ass in my hands and fight the urge to give her a good, hard smack. For teasing me. For talking dirty. Because the savage desire to hurt someone has evolved into this need to fuck Aya senseless.
But mostly because her ass is right there and I fucking can.
“Do it, Shawn,” she whimpers, “Smack my ass.”
I hear the crack of my palm on her flesh before I can even register what I’m doing, but the achy, guttural moan that it elicits from Aya lets me know she wanted it. Fuck, so did I.
“Again,” she begs, “I need it. Please. I need to hurt.”
I smack her other cheek this time.
She bows her head as she groans, letting her hair fall over me and brush my skin. She spreads ev
en wider. Wider than I even thought possible.
Fucking dancers.
God, I’m going to come. And I’m going to come hard. I can’t stop it.
I can’t even muster up the strength to warn her.
“Fuck, Aya,” I roar.
I come like a goddamn freight train
Something about feeling me bottom out inside of her triggers Aya and she comes too, tumbling down after me.
“Fucking hell,” I finally manage to blurt out.
She nods, breathing heavily.
“Yeah.”
She’s on her back, so spent she can barely keep her eyes open. I scoop her into my arms, rest her head to my shoulder and let her fall asleep there.
I’m out like a light seconds later.
14
Shawn
We date and getting to know each other. She tells me about her dance classes and her mom, who I gather is a little crazy, but in a good way. I tell her about my dad and step-mom and the formation of Say Yes and the most recent tour.
She spends her days teaching and I spend mine writing and recording with the band. And we spend our nights together in my bed, wrapped up in each other.
She’s in my apartment so often that I think it’s starting to drive Jack a little crazy, but I’m too elated to care.
I’ve lent Aya my favorite, worn-in Pixies tee shirt which falls about halfway down her thighs and she throws her hair into a messy knot. She gets to work making toast and coffee while I fry bacon and make scrambled eggs.
She’s so damn cute first thing in the morning.
“What?” she asks, catching me staring.
“Nothing,” I lie, “What are you doing this weekend?”
“I have another lesson with Johnny. Then I teach the intermediate and beginner classes right after. But nothing other than that. Why?”
“We’ve got a show in Las Vegas on Friday. It was supposed to just be a one night thing, but Ian’s pushing us all to make a long weekend of it for some reason. We’re going to fly out tomorrow evening, spend the next day in Vegas and play the show that night. Then we have all day Saturday to ourselves and we’ll fly back midday Sunday” I tell her, casually.
