Topsy Turvy Kinda Love

by J Marie

  I shake my head, and a tear slips out. He leans over to wipe it up as it falls, and I can’t take these emotions. My pasts lock is breaking open without the key. My heart’s going to shatter itself into every single corner of this room—fragments upon fragments of heart littering the floor like broken glass from a windowpane.

  “You don’t have to tell me today, but boy, do you have a knack for shutting down.”

  We eat the rest of our breakfast in silence. My mind whirls with everything that’s been said and not said between us in such a short period of time.

  It’s been a couple of hours since we’ve eaten breakfast, and we’re snuggled on the couch watching a Star Wars marathon. We started with Episode IV: A New Hope. I don’t want to tell Brooks, but I keep getting lost and can’t seem to follow along. He is distracting.

  He’ll laugh at something or cringe when a bad part comes up, and I find it interesting, just watching him. His eyes sparkle when he laughs, and when he looks over at me and winks, I could die right here. I’ve successfully told Brooks more about myself in a whole two days than I have to anyone else in years and I can’t understand my propensity for such word vomit. I’ve never been a sharer, but now my brain decides to dispense all of my past like a PEZ dispenser. One sugary morsel at a time. It’s like he’s brainwashed me into sharing all my demons.

  I let my gaze linger on Brooks for just a little while before he finds me staring at him and smiles. “You like what you see?”

  “Something like that… Hey, you want to try something?”

  “What’d you have in mind?”

  “Getting high and painting.”

  He nods. “I’m down to try it.”

  “Okay, I’ll be right back.” I hop up and run to my room to grab my jar, papers, and grinder before returning to the living room. Cleaning off the coffee table, I pull out a few buds and start to break them down before dropping them into my grinder. Fully ground, I dump it out onto the coffee table and scoop it into the paper. Rolling up the ends, I lick the seam to hold it together, making sure the ends are tight. I use the lighter real quick to heat up the place I just licked, so it’s not wet.

  Raising the lighter to the end of the joint, the fire ignites the paper to a slow burn. Lifting it to my lips I puff a couple of times, exhaling in between. Now that it’s going, I pass it over to Brooks like a good host would do.

  He takes a puff on it, but doesn’t truly inhale.

  “No, no, no… you have to inhale it. It doesn’t count if you don’t.”

  I watch as he puts it between his lips again and breathes in way too deep. An instant intense cough breaks free from his chest, and I grab the joint from his fingers. He can’t seem to stop coughing and hacking up a lung. He’ll be good with that one hit, being his first time and all. “Hey, it’s okay. Just breathe.” I hand him a drink to try and help with the coughing, and he willingly accepts it.

  “Jeez, that was intense,” he says, hand pressed to his chest like he’s still fighting to breathe in the air his lungs are probably crying out for right now.

  I hit the joint a few more times, letting my head rest against the back of the couch. We end up sitting staring at each other for the next twenty minutes. “I feel like I’m floating and my head feels like it’s not even attached.”

  “Welcome to the high life, my friend.”

  “It’s weird, but I feel so relaxed and a little…”

  I raise my eyebrow. “A little what?”

  He leans over and whispers “Horny,” and I can’t help the giggles that follow.

  “Hey, what’s so funny?”

  “I don’t know, but I just can’t stop laughing. I don’t even know why it’s funny.” Brooks starts laughing too and we can’t stop… two fools laughing at nothing in particular. “Hey, let’s go paint something…”

  “Okay, what do you want to paint?”

  “You… on the floor.”

  His brow furrows in confusion. “Why me on the floor?”

  I roll my shoulders in a shrug. “Because it’ll be fun, why not?”

  “I’m not sure.” I pull him up as I stand and walk toward my paints on my art table. His hand dwarfs mine, and it’s a little rough. His eyes catch mine and I can’t help the grin that slips across my face. Leaning over, I gently place the sheet on the floor to avoid any paint splatter.

  “Okay, you lay right here.” I watch as Brooks lowers his fine self to the floor, muscles flexing in all the right places as he does so. “Why are you going so slowly?”

  “It feels like I’m moving way too fast.” I chuckle again. Stoner Brooks is fun. He finally gets in position. “Okay, what now?”

  “Let me grab paint. Stay right there.”

  Grabbing blue paint, I start slowly pouring it over him. “Stay still. I’m going to make your shape on the floor.” He does as I say, and I pour more paint over him. Reaching down, I smear it over his arms and his face. He grabs me and pulls me down on him.

  “It’s not fair for you to be the only one painting. I want to paint you too, pixie.” He smears paint across my cheeks and down my chest. “There. Much better.” I straddle him, and he pulls me against him. He looks up at me, those deep brown eyes searching mine for more, for anything. They glide over my lips sinfully, and my tongue peeks out to say hello. He swallows, and I can tell he’s holding back. He wants to kiss me, and it’s killing me, but I want the same. We can’t go down that road, not yet.

  I start to slide back and force over the very prominent prize in his pants and he moans. “Mia…”

  “Yes, Brooksy? Next lesson… high sex.”

  “Hell, yes.”

  Euphoria is great being high alone, but sex while high makes everything heightened. The pleasure, the feel of everything. Him, me, in a twirl of paint and lust. Another amazing lesson in the books.

  Another hit. Another stroke. Another color. Blue for Brooks. The bristles of my brush caressing the canvas with color. One more line. Black fading out as it runs off the paintbrush. I pull back, needing to refill my brush with paint and realize that I’ve run out of black on my pallet. I’m forced to use blue.

  Like my life.

  Forced to think about Brooks in such close proximity. I peer over the top of my easel as I speak of the devil in an angel disguise. Musk and sandalwood assault my senses as I notice the towel-clad man heading into my kitchen. Freshly showered, still dripping, and mouthwatering. Suddenly I want to do a little more than painting. Well, a different kind of art. I want our bodies to do a little mixing without the mess. Painting the walls with our shadows is more like it, but the sun isn’t out and bright today. A thought for later.

  A grin steals across his cheeks, and I can’t help but reply with my own smile. His hair glistens in the sunlight. Another hit on my joint to make the feelings go away. To numb myself. He crosses the room to kiss me on the forehead, his new morning ritual, and the gruff stubble covering his jaw almost gives me something akin to a rug burn, but I relish in the feel of it. I want it to mark me.

  To tell the world that he’s mine. But that’s not true, because he’ll never be mine if I only give him my body. He wants my broken heart too. It’s like he wants to put it back together piece by piece and I hate that it’s working. “Morning, my beautiful Pixie.” Insert dopey grin here.

  “Hey, Brooksy.” He smiles at the nickname that’s slowly become what I call him.

  “You working on my painting again this morning?”

  “Yeah, I ran out of black paint.”

  “You ever think about using something other than black for everything? Like adding a pop of color?”

  “Why do you think I’m using blue?”

  He shakes his head. “That’s not what I mean. I’m saying, why not try lighter colors in general?”

  “I’ve always used black. It’s comfortable for me.”

  “Would you paint outside the lines if I asked you to?” His eyes fill with hope. It’s a loaded question. Would I paint outside the lines with hi
m? Would I give myself willingly, hoping that I didn’t end up broken even more in the end?

  Every day it gets harder to understand why I’m telling myself no, yet a little voice inside still whispers. Look what happened to your parents. Look what happened with Chad… Fear keeps me standing in place, never moving forward.

  I’m safe here.

  With Brooks, I’m in danger. In danger of losing my heart.

  “I made you coffee. It’s in the kitchen.” I’m glad for the brief reprieve to his question.

  “This is why you’re the best roomie.”

  “I know.”

  He turns to walk away, and I watch his ass muscles scrunch under his towel. Even his ass is sexy, and now I want to jump him again. “Hey, Brooks, when do you go into work today?”

  “Two hours. Why, what’d you have in mind?” The tent in his towel suggests he knows exactly what I’m talking about, but sometimes you just have to spell these things out.

  I waggle my eyebrows. “Wanna knock something else off that wish list of yours?”

  His upper body shakes with laughter. “You know I’m down for anything.”

  A chuckle pierces my lips. “Using my phrases now, are you?”

  He shrugs. “Seemed appropriate.”

  Brooks is getting to me. I’m a lady enough to admit it. He’s been making me waver in my thoughts all morning, thinking about surrendering and letting go. Giving in to all the desires I’ve been having. Like the dreams, I’ve had about kissing him for weeks. I don’t kiss. It’s one of my main rules, but aren’t rules meant to be broken? I sure as hell break them all the time, so what’s one little rule. If he’s a saint then I’m a demon. I’m heading to hell anyway might as well enjoy the ride. Lip locks and all.

  Plus, I can’t stop thinking about my desire to kiss him last night. The way his eyes begged me relentlessly to give it and let go. To live a little.

  I glance at Brooks mouth and lick my bottom lip. “A taste of a little something different. Maybe a little bit of rule-breaking.”

  He lowers his face down to mine, and his hands reach up to cradle my face.

  “And just what kind of rule-breaking did you have in mind, my sexy Pixie?”

  I shudder, my need for him coursing through every vein in my body as the distance between us gets erased inch by inch. My defenses are breaking down and it’s all because of this tall hunk of a man standing in front of me waiting for me to give him permission. Waiting for me to just say yes. I’m more than ready to give in to anything he wants right now just to have his hands on me. I don’t deserve him or the kisses he may give me, but right now I’m too selfish to care.

  “Kiss me,” I murmur.

  I find myself moving before the word me comes from her lips. I’ve been waiting for this moment. Biding my time for when she’ll finally give in and let me break her one single rule. I know what this means to her. She’s giving me a little bit of herself and I won’t waste my opportunity. I don’t hesitate. I won’t give her the chance to take away this moment. I comb my fingers through her brightly colored hair and grab a fistful. My hold on her is tight but not painful, keeping just enough pressure so she can’t pull away from me. Like I said before, no take-backs.

  Lightning zaps up my body, and it feels like lightning bugs are trying to escape from the prison of a mason jar.

  “You’re so fucking gorgeous,” I whisper softly against her cheek as I drag my nose along her skin. Mia sucks in a breath, and I know she’s ready. She’s not pulling back; it’s almost like she’s waiting for it. Anticipating my next move. Sending out a frequency only I can hear.

  Stupid heart trying to beat out of my chest. I can hear it in my ears. I once asked myself if I could live without a heartbeat, and the answer is no because the heartbeat is her. She’s becoming my everything. One touch and I’m gone for her, completely wrapped around her finger so tightly. And I’d fight anyone who tries to take that away. I’ve never felt more complete than when I’m with her.

  I drop my mouth over hers and press softly, waiting for her to pull back. To tell me to stop. To tell me that she’s changed her mind. But she doesn’t; she leans into me. Giving me all the permission I need to beg for more with my lips. Looping my arm around her waist, I yank her closer to me. My towel drops, and it’s hanging off my fully erect mast.

  Her eyes never leave mine, and I get so lost in that unending shiny sapphire color for just a second. My large hand grasps the small of her back, and I tuck her into me tighter, needing every square inch of her body pressed up against mine; the only thing between us now is my pulsing dick. My fingers drift under her short top, and I rub circles on the soft skin below me. I run them up her back and realize that she isn’t even wearing a bra.

  I growl at the possessiveness I feel about my woman not wearing a bra for me. Fuck, it’s hot. Mia’s tongue darts out and licks my bottom lip, and a moan erupts from my mouth. She’s so damn sexy, and I can’t figure out why in the hell she thinks no one wants her. I sure as fuck do. I open for her, matching each tease of her tongue with one of my own. She tastes like mine. Our tongues battle it out, like lost lovers who’ve reunited after years apart, finding love after losing it time and time again. Weaving our story with the tips of tongues and heated breath.

  We’re still in the living room, and I want her in bed under me so I can ravish every bit of her more. I’m drowning in this ocean of one simple kiss, and I never want to come up for air. So be it if that means the death of me. At least I’ll die with her fucking kiss on my lips.

  Tiny palms sweep up my back until I feel her fingers running through my hair, nails digging slightly into my scalp. There’s a pinch of pain, but I don’t mind it. I grind into her, and she rides my thigh like she can’t hold back any longer. My mouth consumes every single one of the pleasure noises coming from hers. I reach down and pull her up, lifting her up and pulling her tighter against my thigh as she covers my leg with her excitement. I walk us to my bedroom, our lips never parting.

  Mia sucks on my lip, and I’m momentarily distracted from my previous idea of stripping her naked. I delve into her mouth, ravenous for more. Laying her down onto the bed, I crawl up it with her, still kissing her. Every single one of the fantasies I had about kissing her falls absolutely fucking flat to this intense moment we’re having. Her perfect red lips are feather soft, and the moans coming from them are driving my arousal off the charts. My need for her is spiraling into a lusty haze and coiling into a demand for her body wrapped around me. I’m closer to the edge, and dear Lord, I hope she’s coming with me. I rock into her, my naked cock against her wet core.

  My fingers find the edges of her oversized tee shirt and lift at the hem, pulling it up over her: no panties and no bra, double score. My eyes roam over every inch of her. There’s something different about her this time.

  She’s in a regular tee shirt, and she hasn’t donned her normal teaching apparel. At the risk of sounding hopeful, I hope this means she’s giving me a chance. The unsaid words in this kiss sure give me that impression. The floodgates are open, and I’m pouring myself heart and soul into whatever this thing is that I’m choosing not to label just yet. This is more than just open sex and lust. It’s affection, whether she chooses to believe in it or not. I’ll believe in it enough for both of us. Every tempting touch shoots my desire for her higher.

  I haul her into me, pulling her leg to wrap around my hip while I grind my dick into her. She feels so fucking good. My little pixie. She gasps into my mouth at one especially hard thrust against her, and I hear the soft murmurs of pleading and begging abandoning her lips.

  “You want me, Mia?” I ask, hoping yet again that she doesn’t pull away from the intensity. Her tiny body is molding to mine perfectly, just like the first time, and I relish it, barriers be damned.

  “Yes, need you Brooks. Need you now.” Her breathy pants are enough to make me burst.

  “Thank fuck.” I’m so abso-fucking-lutely hard for her, painfully so. She runs her b
lunt nails down my back attempting to scratch me into submission of whatever she wants me to do, and I fully oblige. I rub her swollen pussy lips and slip inside her warmth. She moans as I enter her tight little core. The pulse pounding within me is shouting that this is a deeper connection, and I hope she feels it too.

  I start out thrusting slowly. Fully aware that if I go in guns blazing then I’ll be going out in a blaze of embarrassment. I calm myself. For a minute, I sit and just feel the pleasure of being inside her. Being this close to my girl. I pull back from her lips and admire the puffy red that has become of them since I start devouring her.

  The timer on my phone goes off, and I curse at it. It’s a blatant reminder that I have to go to work in an hour. I’m pissed that I can’t spend the afternoon making sure my woman is naked and as sated as possible. I’m also worried that as soon as I walk out the front door, she’s going to run. This is a lot for her. I’ll make up for lost time now.

  “Brooks, don’t stop. Need you right now. Fuck me.” She reaches up and pulls my face down to hers, letting her lips brush against mine. Hells yes. Back in the moment with Mia, I start thrusting into her harder. She squirms below me, her legs wrapping around me to hold me tighter with each thrust. My tongue is moving in and out of her mouth, making love to her like my dick is doing to her lady parts. And I am. I’m making love to her. I won’t say it out loud, but I know what this is. I’ve never questioned it.

  “Let’s try something new,” she whispers to me, and I nod.

  “Anything you want. Let’s do it.”

  I slide from her warmth and I shrink slightly at the instant cold. She flips over and presents her ass to me, looking over her shoulder with a small smile. “Doggie style.”

  I’ve never tried it before, obviously, so I’m game. I slip back into her, hitting lower than I was before, and it’s fucking heaven. Everything about being inside Mia is worth every bit of hell the leaders from back home used to preach about. I’m lusty as fuck right now. She moans as I slide into the hilt, and we start going at it again.