by JD Hawkins
“Teo, I—”
“I fucked up, Ash,” he says, looking torn up. “Every second of those seven years that I didn’t get back in touch…I just let the time pass. Hating your father, my father. Hating the world. Sometimes I even told myself it was your fault for not running away with me when I asked…but there’s nobody to blame but myself. I fucked up—I’m still fucking up—and maybe that’s proof that I still don’t deserve you.”
I let my head drop against his chest, feeling overwhelmed and dizzy again. I let myself catch my breath, let my thoughts settle. Teo strokes my hair, as if knowing I need a minute, patiently waiting.
“Hold up,” I say, looking up at him suddenly. “Is that why you were arguing with my dad at the barbecue? Did he give you another ultimatum?”
Teo says nothing, just clenches his jaw, but it’s all the affirmation I need.
“Fuck!” I shout, pulling away from Teo, my hands on my head. “Are you kidding me?”
“Ash…”
“Take me back there right now,” I say, standing by the bike. “I need to talk to him.”
“Ash, no. Wait a second.”
I fumble in my pocket, so pissed that I drop my phone as I pull it out. I pick it up with shaking hands but before I can find my dad’s number, Teo comes close and puts a hand on my arm, pushing it gently away. His other hand goes to my chin, lifting it so that I face him.
“That’s not going to fix anything,” he says calmly.
“The hell it will! My dad is the reason I suffered all those years. And he’s still trying to control my life?”
“What are you gonna do?”
“I’m gonna tell him exactly what he made me go through!” I say, lifting the phone back up. “I’m gonna tell him to stay the hell out of my life!”
Teo pushes my arm down again.
“And then what? You fight and you fight. You end up hating each other, and nobody gets anywhere. Trust me, Ash, I know what I’m talking about.”
Something about his eyes now holds me, keeps me from lifting my phone again.
“You can’t fix your parents. You can spend your whole life blaming them, hating them, fighting them—but you’ll never be happy.”
I shake my head. “So what exactly am I supposed to do?”
Teo shrugs nonchalantly, smiling a little like we’re just talking about a bad roll of dice.
“At some point you’ve just got to accept them the way they are. Even if they never really accepted you.”
I stare at him for a few seconds, then breathe, nowhere else for the nerves to go. His answer diffusing the anger inside of me somehow, none of it mattering anyway now that we’re together.
“You ok?” Teo asks.
I nod slowly.
“I think. My whole world just turned upside down, but…I think I am.”
Teo looks at me like he’s trying to decide between hugging me, comforting me, or kissing me. Then he makes up his mind.
“You can put the world right later,” he says, as he grabs my hips and yanks them against his, half-smiling as he moves in for another kiss. “Let’s put us right first.”
Minutes later and we’re back on his bike, our bodies throbbing and growling like the engine between us. My fingers tease between his shirt buttons, and I squeeze my thighs around his. Even the whip of the wind at this high speed not enough to stop my body from burning for him now, for that physical confirmation of us being one again. As if my body needs to learn what my mind already understands—that he’s mine.
He takes us to my apartment because it’s closer, and from the moment we get off the bike until we reach my door we can’t keep off of each other. He takes my hand and spins me back up against a wall in the hallway so he can sink his tongue into my mouth, grind that thick cock into my hip, press those heavy pecs into my melting body. I moan loudly, my knees weak, not caring if the neighbors hear. When the elevator doors open I shove him back into it, hands desperate to unbutton his crisp white shirt, thighs sliding up against his legs until the hands cupping my ass are so frantic they’re carrying me against him. An entirely different kind of prom dance, less a waltz and more like some red-blooded South American tango.
Half-drunk on the taste of each other’s mouths, bodies twisting with desire for skin-on-skin, we stumble out of the elevator toward my apartment. I turn my back to him to get the door open and he wraps his arms around my front, hands rolling over my stomach, kneading my breasts through my shirt as he bites hungrily at the nape of my neck. Somehow I manage to fumble the keys out and unlock the door, pushing through as soon as it’s open.
I turn around to see him watching me with eyes narrowed and on fire, trapping me in their intensity. He slams the door behind him without looking, then roughly tears off his tuxedo jacket and tosses it aside.
“Nobody drives me as wild as you do,” he growls, as his eyes flick possessively down the length of my body, eyes so intense I can feel them, can read the intent, all the lustful thoughts behind them.
I smile a little and step toward him, then hook my fingers in the top of his belt.
“Good. Because I like it wild,” I say, as I pull him by the belt backwards into the bedroom.
I sit back on the bed, his body broad and powerful before me. My eyes go from the bulge in his black tux trousers up to the hungry look on his face, and he responds by tearing his shirt the rest of the way off. It hangs loose, framing the taut muscles underneath. I’m thirsty for him, my nails scratching down the indentations of his abs like I’m deciphering them, feeling his hard muscles tremble beneath my touch. I need my mouth on him.
His fingers bury themselves in my hair as I tug off his belt, whipping it off and working his pants open. His cock is already stiff and thick in front of me, the veins pulsing with need. All I can think about is sucking it. I trail my fingertips along him softly as I drop to the floor and get on my knees, my mouth watering, ready for him. I lick the drop of pre-cum off the tip, enjoying his sharp intake of breath, the way his eyes narrow even more, the determined, muted groan that he can’t help letting out.
“Ooh, you like that,” I tease. “You want more?”
Instead of waiting for an answer, I lick him again as his hand grabs a fistful of my hair, as he fucks my mouth. I almost choke on the length of him, he’s so big, the head ramming the back of my throat for a few short, quick thrusts, before he pulls out with a gasp. I remember this Teo. Aching for me but doing everything in his power to hold back, stay in control. I grin and lick my lips, making eye contact as I let the head of his cock roll over my tongue, taking my time as I slowly trace the underside of his shaft. Then I open wide and take all of him into my mouth. He groans, his body already swaying a little to the rhythm of my sucks and the pulse of his desire. I start to work him faster, increasing the pace, but he pushes hard into my throat again, impatient for me to deep throat him.
“Nuh-uh,” I hum with my mouth around his cock. I ease up now, just to punish him for rushing, and then start back at the beginning with just the tip of my tongue lapping his head. I lick him all the way down to his balls and then back up again, keeping him there on the edge. Sucking softly and then harder, letting him thrust shallow and then deep into my mouth, alternating the pressure as I bob my head back and forth. He’s pulling my hair hard now in his fist, sending tingles through my scalp and a wet throb through my pussy. I could do this for hours.
“Fuck…Ash…” he growls, like some powerful prayer. I smile with my eyes, then moan, long and low so he can feel the vibrations against his cock. He lets out a half-laugh half-sigh, his body too under my control for him to do anything else.
With one hand rolling up and down his wet shaft, making him pant with tense frustration, I use my other hand to undo my blouse. Then I let go of him just long enough to shrug out of my shirt and bra, listening to him sigh with pleasure.
“God, you’re good,” he gasps at the ceiling, before looking down at me again.
I sit back on the bed, smiling devil
ishly as I cup my breasts in my hands, knowing it drives him crazy, and then pull him toward me. I give his cock one last suck, then roll it from my lower lip, down my throat, down between my tits, listening to the way he murmurs and hums between his clenched jaw. I squeeze him between my tits, pushing them together to give the friction we both want.
“You like that?” I tease.
“Fuck yes,” he groans, and he starts to thrust harder.
I arch my back and roll my soft tits around him.
“Fuck yes,” he repeats, locking eyes with me now.
He glares down at me with grim determination, his icy blue eyes boring into me as hard as the cock against my chest. Eyes that can’t hide the unbearable longing in his body, the lust that goes almost soul-deep. I can hardly control myself.
“Fuck!” he roars, unable to bear it, unable to let me toy with him anymore.
In seconds Teo is straddling me, teasing my slit with his cock.
“Fuck, you’re wet,” he groans. “I need to be inside you.”
He pulls away from me, sucking my tits one at a time before trailing his mouth down my body. When he laps at my pussy, I’m already on the edge. He slips inside me, filling me up.
He thrusts into me and in no time, I’m so turned on I can feel myself clenching around him. He sucks my nipple into his mouth and I feel an electric pulse in my clit.
“Fuck,” I moan.
He slams into me, so deep, hitting all the right spots. I’m grinding against him, faster, losing control, until I come so hard I see stars. Teo hugs me closer to him.
“Ash, you’re so tight,” he whispers, slowly pulling out of me.
I need him in my mouth.
“Come back,” I say, motioning to my tits, and he moves back over me.
I open my mouth and let my tongue drop, lapping at the head of his cock. It tastes like us together. I knead my breasts around him as he slams forward and back, faster and harder, until I can feel the beating closeness of his orgasm.
So close I feel even the moment of hesitation, the second he starts pulling himself back like he’s reining in some wild beast.
“Don’t stop. I want you to come all over me,” I say, almost a whisper, but it’s enough.
His head thrown back, his front like some glorious statue of a Greek god above me, he comes over my tits, my chest, my neck. All that mental frustration, those days of pain, that longing for me, turned physical and exploded out of him. I watch the hard, beast-like tension of his body turn back into his normal relaxed swagger.
He leans down, elbows on either side of me, bringing his face to mine to kiss me softly and then pull back just to look at me. I bring my hand up to that sharp cheek, feeling the sweat under my palm, and he smiles back.
“You’re mine,” he tells me.
“I am.”
25
Teo
I wake up in a strange place, with a sudden burst of dark, heart-sinking fear as I wonder if I just dreamt everything. Then the sound of clinking glasses draws me a little further awake. I realize I’m at Ash’s place, and the fear disappears, replaced by the feeling of everything being right, balanced, peacefully blissful.
She comes into the room carrying a cup of coffee, and smiles when she sees me.
“Morning. I was just about to wake you,” she says, putting the coffee on the stand beside me and sitting on the bed.
“Morning,” I groan sleepily. “Where you going?”
She puts a hand on my naked chest, and I put my hand on hers, bringing it to my mouth to kiss her palm.
“Work,” she says, smiling from the sensation, but her eyes downturned at the subject. “Well, sort of. Pretty much the only reason I’m going in is to pack up all my things.”
“Seriously?” I say. “We’ve barely had a chance to just…I don’t know…be together.”
“Yeah,” she sighs. “Well, that’s life. There’s always something more important than the thing you actually want to do.”
“I’m sure it won’t take long,” I soothe.
She laughs. “I’m sure it will. I’ve got plants there, ornaments, tons of giant art books I was using for inspiration. Paintings, photographs, this old camera collection I was starting—” She stops to laugh at herself cutely. “I’ve got this really bad habit of over-decorating, you know? Trying to make wherever I am feel interesting and comfortable.”
“I noticed,” I say, planting another kiss on her palm. “Look, I’ll come and help. I can borrow Ginger’s truck.”
“What? No. I’ll manage with my car.”
“I’ll take the truck,” I insist. “We’ll have it done in no time.”
She looks at me, smiling at the gesture, but still unconvinced. Then she sighs regretfully.
“I don’t know…” she says. “Thanks… But it might be weird, you being there…you know? Everybody seeing my boyfriend, Candace stomping around…”
“Who cares? You don’t work there anymore. You think I could just laze around all day knowing that you’re struggling to fit a bunch of potted plants in that tiny car of yours? Forget it.”
She laughs easily now, looking at me with a sense of appreciation that compels me to draw her near and bury her in my embrace, under the covers, despite her laughing shrieks about how she’ll be late.
After meeting Ginger at Mandala, where he hands over the truck with a big grin and a fist bump, we head on over to Ash’s workplace on the studio lot and go on up to her office. She’s a little on edge, glancing around her, shying away a little when she exchanges some hellos in the lobby. No amount of subversive ass pats or whispered assurances seems to relax her. I wonder if it’s having me there, the possibility of facing Candace or Carlos again, or just the general unease of leaving all this behind, her job, her colleagues. A confirmation that she’s finally giving it all up for an unknown.
“Don’t look so worried,” I tell her in the elevator, rubbing a hand across her back, folded boxes under my other arm, “we’ll be done before you know it.”
She nods and purses her lips, trying to smile for me.
We step through her sleek office, past desks where well-dressed, stressed-looking women and conversely laid-back looking guys hunch over laptops, then go into her office.
“You weren’t kidding,” I say, as I look around the small room. Glass figurines and old cameras line bookshelves of books big and heavy enough to tile a patio, the potted plants are more like small trees, and there are several large posters up on the walls. It makes the rest of the office seem like a call center by comparison.
Ash shrugs and shoots me an apologetic look. I half-smile back and start unfolding the boxes to show I don’t mind.
As we slowly get into the rhythm of filling the boxes up, Ash directing me on what to put inside, there’s a knock at the door.
“Ash? Oh, God, it’s really happening…” the girl with the grey-blue hair says as she steps inside, looking tangibly sad.
She notices me suddenly. “Oh, hey,” she says.
“Jenny? Is it?” I say.
“Yeah,” she says, looking pretty happy I remembered her name, then turning back to Ash.
They embrace warmly, then break apart with sad, longing looks on their faces.
“Don’t…” Ash says, as she gets back to packing. “I don’t want to cry or anything.”
Jenny laughs, but I can hear in it that she’s close to tears as well.
“This place is going to fall apart without you,” she says. “We’ve already had to rerun a bunch of old segments the past few days. Ugh…don’t leave me.”
Ash crumples up some newspaper to wrap a glass figurine in.
“We’ll still be seeing plenty of each other, you can be sure of that,” she says, placing it carefully in a box. “And you know what? Soon enough they’ll hire somebody else to come in here and do way more work than their salary’s worth. Everything’s going to be fine.”
“Yeah,” Jenny says, rolling her eyes, “I’m sure Candace has an equally
obnoxious nephew somewhere, or a young meathead that she’s got a crush on. Anyway, I wish I could help, but I’ve got a script to write—Carlos needs something to butcher for the big interview tonight.”
We say our goodbyes, Ash and Jenny arranging to go for drinks over the weekend, and then Jenny leaves.
“What’s this ‘big interview’?” I ask Ash.
“The show’s going out on a really great slot tomorrow—minutes after some big season finale of a TV show. We usually put a big segment up when we know we’ll get a lot of viewers like that, and Candace managed to arrange an interview with some actor. Though Carlos isn’t that great at interviews—it’ll basically be a fifteen minute advertisement for his new B-movie.”
“I see.”
We continue packing for a while, and I start bringing some of those gigantic potted plants down to the car, tying them up with bungee cords in the back and covering them with plastic so they don’t make a mess. When I get back upstairs for the next few boxes, Ash is talking with a meek-looking bald guy who looks like Santa Claus if he worked in the tech industry.
“Teo,” she says, spotting me over his shoulder, “this is Sean. He’s an executive producer on the show.”
“Hey,” I say, shaking his hand and quietly judging his expression, trying to determine if he’s one of the bad ones.
“I was just telling Ash,” he says, looking a little frightened of me, “that we’re really going to miss her. I’ve been keeping my ears open for anything else she might be good for—” he turns back toward Ash “and if you’re still available, I might be able to—”
“Thanks, Sean,” Ash says, seeming genuine. “I appreciate it. And yes, go ahead and let me know if you hear anything—for now at least, I’m still unemployed.”
Sean looks sad for a moment, before perking up and pulling something from his blazer pocket.