Trashed

by Jasinda Wilder

* * *

  He stands up with me in his arms and carries me across the apartment, into the bedroom. Lays me down, plants a hand on the bed beside my face and kisses me while caressing my breast with his other hand.

  And then he’s gone, but only for a moment, returning with the package of condoms.

  My heart seizes, and my core goes damp.

  But he’s not ready for that yet. He rips the box open, pulls one square free and sets it aside, then sprawls out on the bed beside me. His hands trace my ribs beneath my tits, down, and find the edge of one of my tattoos. His eyes go to mine, and I see the question.

  I roll into him, resting a hand on his stomach, just above his nascent erection. “‘The ache for home lives in all of us, the safe place where we can go as we are and not be questioned,’” I recite. “Maya Angelou. ”

  He nods. “I saw it when you were sleeping. What’s it mean to you?”

  I rest my head in the crook of his arm. “It’s just about…home. About belonging. I’ve never belonged anywhere. Growing up in the system, none of the placements ever lasted more than a year at most, so there was never home. Everywhere I lived, it was just a house. A place to sleep. So that’s what I’ve always wanted more than anything, is to feel safe, and…to have a home. ”

  He traces the tattoo on my hip. The scar beneath it. “And the scars the tattoos cover?”

  I close my eyes and bury my face in his skin. His arms curl around me, shelter me. Protect me. “I was sixteen. I’d just been moved to a new family. The dad was…bad. Real bad. On disability, wasted all the time. Got violent. Usually he only went after his wife, but every once in a while, he’d go after their daughter. Her mom would get between the girl and the dad. But once…he hit his wife too hard, knocked her out. Michaela, the daughter, started screaming. He was just…crazed. I don’t even know what the fuck got into him. I think he was a Desert Storm vet or something, maybe it was a flashback? I don’t know. There was this extension cord on the table, an orange one. Michaela went after her dad, and he knocked her to the ground. Just laid her out. And he grabbed the cord, started hitting her with it. It was long, and he just had a doubled-over section of it, about three or four feet long. He started hitting ’Chaela with the cord, and I just couldn’t let him—I couldn’t. So I laid over her, covered her. And he just kept hitting. I’d just gotten out of the shower, and all I had on was a towel. The towel fell off, and he just—kept hitting me. I don’t think he even knew what he was doing. Maybe he did. I don’t know. Part of me thinks he did know what he was doing, because he kept hitting me in the same place, over and over, and then he’d hit in a different spot. Left those fun scars. ”

  “Fucking hell, Des. ” Adam’s arms tighten, his lips touch my temple. “What stopped him?”

  “A neighbor. Heard the screaming, realized it was worse than usual, I guess. It took the neighbor and three cops to get me off Michaela. I wouldn’t let go of her. ”

  “Des, god, babe. ”

  I lift up and look at him, let him see into my eyes. “It’s fine, Adam. It was a long time ago. And honestly, I’d do it again, if I had to. Michaela is just the sweetest girl you’d ever meet. I stayed there…for her, even after that. . ”

  “What?” He gives me an incredulous look.

  “He spent six weeks in jail, got probation, a tether, addiction counseling, mandatory AA, all that. My caseworker wanted to move me, but I refused. I was sixteen, so she could’ve insisted despite my protests. Before that, I didn’t care. It didn’t matter; one home was as good as another. But Michaela…she needed me. Her mom wasn’t much good on her best day. She needed a friend, and I was all she had. ” I smile, thinking of Michaela. “I still visit her, sometimes. She was only five when that happened. She’s eleven now. ”

  “And you got the tattoos to cover the scars?”

  “Sort of,” I answer. “But more out of a need to turn something that came from ugliness into something beautiful—more than because I was self-conscious about the scars or whatever. And that quote…I came I across it my senior year of high school. I was doing a paper on Maya Angelou, and I read a whole bunch of stuff she’d written. I came across that quote, and it just stuck in my head. It resonated with me on a really deep level. Maya, she got it, too. She had a hard life, and she turned all that pain into so much beautiful poetry. ”

  “So have you,” Adam says.

  I glance at him. “How do you figure?”

  He smiles, traces my lips with a thumb. “Just you. Who you are. The fact that you can be such a beautiful person despite all that you’ve been through, that’s poetry too, Des. ”

  “Jesus, Adam. You’re gonna make me cry. ” I sniff.

  “That wouldn’t bother me,” Adam says. “You don’t have to be strong all the time, you know. It’s okay to show weakness. To show emotion. ”

  I shrug. “It’s ingrained. ”

  “Un-ingrain it,” he says.

  I can’t help but laugh. “Yeah, lemme just flip that switch real quick…”

  Adam laughs with me, letting it go. He knows it’s not that easy. He brushes a lock of my hair out of the way. “Des? I have a question, and you have to answer it truthfully. You’re gonna want to dismiss it as stupid, but please don’t. ”

  I lean back to look at him. “Okay, I’ll try. ”

  He takes a deep breath and lets it out. “Why me?” I frown and open my mouth, but he covers my lips with his finger, and then traces my jawline, my lips, the column of my neck. “You’re a gorgeous woman, and as ill-fated as it was and as horrible as the industry can be, modeling has to have shown you that that’s not just my opinion. So why me? Why did you trust me? Why did you let me take your virginity?”

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  I don’t answer for a long time, thinking about my answer. “Number one, you didn’t take it, I gave it to you. Big difference to me. As for why you? You saw me. I’m not sure how to explain that. It’s like…you seemed to see who I was, who I am, and you treated me like I am worth wanting. You see what I hide. It’s not that anything I’ve experienced is a secret; it’s just that I don’t trust anyone enough to tell them. But you…I just trusted you, like instinctively or something. I still can’t explain why. I mean, I know now that you’re a strong and kind and understanding man and that you’re trustworthy, but I didn’t know that then. I wanted to trust you. And, honestly, that scared the fuck out of me. That was as much the reason I didn’t stick around the next morning as anything else. I couldn’t figure out why I’d trusted you, why I wanted you so badly. Or why you wanted me. None of it made any sense, and that just scared me. ” I smooth my palm in idle, lazy circles on his torso. “You pursued me, like you just had to…have me, and that was like nothing I’d ever experienced before. ”

  “You’re so different from anyone I’m used to,” he says. “You’re honest. Not open necessarily, which I understand. You couldn’t be, not with the life you’ve lived. But you just are who you are. I saw a beautiful woman who knew herself, and was comfortable with herself, but she didn’t entirely comprehend her own beauty. It’s an intoxicating combination. ” His fingers dance over my hip, and his eyes burn. “And also, I just plain lusted for you. I wanted you, and I intended to have you. I just didn’t realize—”

  “What you were asking for?” I cut in.

  “How much more there is to you than I even first imagined,” he answers. “And I mean, I knew from the first conversation we had that there was a lot you kept hidden. There was a lot of complex, beautiful woman to know, hiding somewhere past all those walls. ” He pulls me toward his body, and I fall against him, breasts crushed to his side, a leg thrown over his, my eyes fixed on his. “I was determined to get past those walls. I wanted to figure you out. I wanted you to trust me, to tell me all those secrets I saw in your eyes. ”

  “Well…now I have. ”

  “Now you have,” he agrees, and his mouth finds mine.

  His ha
nds span my waist, lift me astride him, and the kiss breaks. I gaze down at him, into his pale green eyes, and I’m lost. I was lost before, but after revealing the truth and all the things I’d kept hidden, I’m drowning in him. I press a kiss to his chest, and then sigh in pleasure as his big strong hands roam my back and my ass and my thighs, and then up to bury in my hair and bring my face to his for a soul-searing kiss. He’s there, at my entrance, hard and hot, and I scrub my palms over his cheeks and slide my body up his, cling to his neck and sink him deep inside me.

  “Oh fuck, Des…god, you feel like heaven…”

  “Not heaven,” I gasp, writhing upon his length. “Home. You feel like home. ”

  “Is there a difference?” he whispers.

  I shake my head, lift up so I can see his eyes, my hair falling around our faces. “No, there’s not. Not to me. ”

  “Me either. ” He thrusts up into me, lips touching my cheek, then teeth nipping at my ear. “I love this, Des, feeling you like this. Bare inside you. ”

  “Me too. ”

  “You’re not on birth control. ”

  I shake my head. “No. Never needed to be. ”

  “Then we should stop for a second. I’ve got to put one on. ” He rolls us over, slides out of me, rises to his knees between my thighs. Snagging the packet he’d set aside earlier, he rips it open and sheaths his cock with the condom. “Now. Where were we?”

  I just stare up at him, waiting, expectant. “I don’t know. I’ve forgotten. You should show me. ”

  A smile spreads across my face as he grips his thick cock in one hand and guides himself to my opening, presses the broad head to my clit and rolls it in slow circles. I gasp, and his eyes darken, heat up. He slides into me, pushing all the way in, and then moves his knees closer to me, spreading my thighs farther apart.

  So fucking full. He’s in me, his heat diffuses over my skin, his eyes penetrate mine and see my soul and he knows my secrets and he’s looking at me like he can’t get enough. He’s so deeply impaled in me that I can’t take any more of him. But then he lifts me by the hips and drives deeper, and holy fuck it seems I can take more of him, and still I need him harder faster deeper more…

  And now he’s pulling back slowly, sliding his length nearly out of me in a teasingly slow glide, and then he pistons all the way in so hard my tits bounce and I shriek involuntarily, gasping, reaching for him, leaning forward and gripping his hips and pulling at him, because Jesus did that feel good.

  “Again…” I breathe, “Adam, do that again. ”

  His grin is pleased and hungry. “You like that, huh?”

  “Fuck yes. ”

  “You like it hard? A little rough?” He pulls out in the same slow withdrawal, tightens his grip on my waist, and then slams in as hard as the last time, and my eyes cross from the spear of superheated ecstasy that explodes through me when he’s deep and hard like that.

  “Yes, Adam, yes…god, I do, I like it when you fuck me hard. ”

  “Then I’ll give it to you hard. ” He pushes deep, leans over me and his cock is buried in me, filling me, and his lips find mine, kissing me with a sweet lingering tenderness that has my eyes pricking and my heart swelling in my chest. It’s a kiss that tells me, no matter how hard and rough he may be about to fuck me, he’s doing so with a heart full of—

  No.

  Nope.

  Not letting myself go there. Even now, I can’t let myself believe it’s that, that word. For him, or me. That would be too much like every girl’s fantasy, and too much like everything I’ve ever wanted, and if I let myself want it or feel it with Adam, and it’s taken away, I’ll shatter.

  So I accept thoughts like “tenderness” and “sweetness”, and keep that other word at bay, buried deep, deep, deep in the shadowy recesses of my consciousness.

  Adam straightens, lifts my legs and places the backs of my thighs against his chest so my feet extend past his head. He scoots closer to me so my ass is flush against him, and I can’t even breathe from how deep he is, can’t see from the dizzy, heady splendor of his cock so big and hard and hot and perfect inside me…

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  And then he moves.

  He pulls back, wrapping his hands around my thighs just below my knees, and drives in. It’s gentle, that time. A warning shot, so to speak. And god, I’m already breathless, a taut fiery tension coiled in my belly, making my toes curl and my fingers scrabble desperately at whatever flesh I can find. Another thrust, this one a little harder, and a gasp is driven from me.

  “Oh fuck, Adam…”

  “Is it good?”

  “So good. ”

  “You want more?”

  “God yes, more. ” My voice shakes.

  His eyes don’t waver from mine, nor mine from his, as he sets a slow and steady rhythm, grinding deep, pulling out slowly and then thrusting in, faster and faster. Harder and harder. Between my open thighs, I can see his still-bruised torso rippling and tensing as he thrusts, the granite-hard slabs of muscle shifting beneath his dusky skin, the faint scrim of hair beading with sweat. His massive arms cling to my thighs for leverage as he begins to fuck in earnest now, slamming into me with relentless vigor, his flesh slapping against mine, and the detonation inside me is building, ecstasy piling upon bliss piling upon whatever is beyond that.

  Nirvana, perhaps?

  Heaven?

  Completion, maybe.

  I lift my hips to meet his thrusts, and deep-throated, unladylike grunts leave me with each clapping orgasmic meeting of our bodies. He’s grunting with me, groaning and cursing and his skin gleams with sweat, veins stand out, muscles ripple and flex, and I feel like I’m being ripped apart in the most incredible way by the exploding need behind each pounding thrust of his body.

  “Adam…I’m gonna come. ”

  “Let me hear you, Des. Scream for me, babe. Scream my name when you come all over my cock. ”

  “Only if you scream my name too. ”

  “Deal. ” He grins at me, white teeth flashing and pale beautiful green eyes hot and intent on mine.

  I feel my pussy clench, feel the tension snap like a rubber band and tears start in my eyes, a gasping sob borne of raw intensity ripping from me.

  And then, in that exact moment, when the orgasm breaks free, Adam releases my legs and bends over me so we’re face to face. His cock pistons into me in wildly fast thrusts, mad and manic, and his mouth claims mine, a breathless kiss.

  “ADAM!” I shout his name as I shatter, heat suffusing my body, my thighs locked in a vise-grip around his waist and my hips grinding.

  And then, inexplicably, at the peak of my climax, he slows his pace. I claw at his ass with my hands, pull at him and shriek with frustration.

  He pulls out slow, hesitates, his eyes on mine, and then he slams his cock into me hard and fast, and I scream. “Fuck, Des, fuck, I’m coming, I’m coming. ” He withdraws, an infinitesimal pause, and then his thick pulsing cock rams home.

  He’s shaking, his thrusts slow and desperate. His eyes are locked on mine, but I can tell it’s an effort to keep them open. I cling to his neck, legs around his waist, lips pressed to his ear. “Come, Adam, come inside me. Yes…” I whisper it, writhing my hips. “Yes, keep going, Adam. Keep fucking me. Keep coming. ” I’ve got a penchant for cursing, but talking dirty like this is something I never knew I was capable of. Yet with Adam, it just seems right, it just emerges from me involuntarily.

  His thrust falters as he buries himself deep. I roll so I’m on top, slide my knees forward and my ass backward, hands on his chest, and push his cock as deep as it will go, push hard, and he lifts up with his hips and grips my thighs in his powerful hands and roars loudly and wordlessly. I pull my pussy forward, and then drive back down as hard as I can, watching as his eyes squeeze closed and the veins on his neck and forearms and biceps pulse and his abs go taut. I feel his heat within me, feel his cock throbbing.


  Once more, then, I lift up, angling my hips back slightly to pull his shaft away from his body, and sit down hard.

  “FUCK!” he groans. “Des…my fucking god, Des…”

  He’s gasping for breath, we both are, and we’re both coated in sweat, shaking all over.

  I’m still trembling from my own orgasm, aftershocks quaking my body as I impale myself on him one last shuddering time, and then I can’t stay upright on him. I pull him free of my body with a whimper, and then fall to the bed beside him.

  “Jesus, Des. ”

  “That was…”

  His chest is heaving, abs tensing and relaxing with each deep breath. “That was fucking intense. ”

  “It’s the most amazing thing I’ve ever felt. ”

  He rolls to his side, facing me, cups my cheek with his palm, eyes honest and sincere. “Me too. I never knew it could feel that way. ” He slides his lips over mine, a brief, hot kiss.

  “It’s not always like this for you?”

  He shakes his head. “No. Never. ” Adam plants a fist in the pillow by my head, lifts up, and this time the kiss is deep, soul-scouring, demanding all the emotion in my soul be offered up for the taking, for the tasting. “There’s a…connection…with us that I never even knew was possible. I feel you, Des. I don’t know how else to say it. I don’t mean just physically, but I mean fuck, yeah, the way sex with you feels is so much more than I’ve ever felt before, but that’s not what I mean. You, me, us, it’s something more. ”

  I want to believe that. I want that to be true. Because I feel it, too. “Don’t lie to me, Adam. Don’t feed me bullshit. Don’t tell me what you think I want to hear. ” I’m too vulnerable, too emotional, and my defense mechanisms are kicking into overdrive.

  But Adam is there, somehow inside me, inside those mechanisms. “Hey. Don’t try and shut me out now, Des. Don’t you fucking dare. ” He takes my hand and places my palm over his heart. It’s thumping hard and fast. His eyes bore into mine. “Come back, Des. Come back to me, baby. ”

  Babe is one thing. Baby…that’s got “attached” written all over it. It’s deep, familiar. No one has ever called me anything but my name. No one has ever cared enough about me to use terms of endearment. Except Ruthie, of course, who is really all the family I’ve ever had.

  I blink hard and squeeze my hands into fists and fight my fear of emotional vulnerability. “I’m here. ”

  He sits up, swings his legs off the bed. “Don’t move. Don’t even blink. I’ll be right back. ” He’s in the bathroom for a split second, it seems, and then he’s back sans condom.

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  And then, somehow, I’m wrapped up in him. His arms are circled around me, my head tucked beneath his chin, my body tangled with his. I feel the stickiness of his come on his cock as it lies against my thigh. My skin cools as the sweat dries, and I feel his pulse thrumming in his throat, in his chest.