Entangling my fingers between Ree’s, I sniff her hair, which brings me confidence. “Mhm.”
“She’s using you, Taylor.”
Reluctantly, I get up from the bed and walk into Ree’s kitchen, pretending to start breakfast although, in actuality, I don’t want Ree to overhear any of this. “You don’t know her.”
“Oh, but I do.”
“She is more than just her feet.”
“Of course, she is. Don’t you think I know this?” asks Penny. “I know exactly what it means to be this girl, to be in love with a danzatore, a ballerino, a chief male dancer at Vander Rose Conservatory. I loved your grandfather with every beat of my heart. But listen to me, boy. The danzatores and primas at our school have one purpose and it’s when they lose focus of that purpose that they get hurt. I lost prima status the moment I fell in love with your grandfather, and let us not forget about your mother. She was too often easily distracted, which is why she paid the ultimate price. If she had not purportedly fallen in love and gotten pregnant—"
I hang up.
My mother’s death was my fault. I get it. I was a distraction.
“Taylor, are you okay?”
I look up to see Ree making her way towards me and I freak! She doesn’t have her cane. She could slip!
Quickly, I scour around her living space and see the cane’s handle leaning against the back of her sofa. I hate to take even the slightest second to wipe my face, but I do it anyway, wiping the back of my hand across my heated eyes to smear the wetness away.
“What’s wrong?” Ree says as I come around to put the cane in her hand.
“Nothing’s wrong,” I choke.
Ree clasps my cheek. “Something’s wrong. What is it?”
Locking eyes with Ree, I confess. Again. “I don’t want to go on tour tomorrow.”
Rerun sighs, removing her hand from my cheek and rubbing her forehead. “We discussed this Taylor. You have to go. This is for your career and for the future of the school. Your company.”
She scuttles to sit down on the sofa and I plant myself next to her. “Then come with me.”
“We’ve been through this as well. I’m not suited for travel and I know this because—”
“I know! You moved many times between foster homes growing up. You’ve told me. But you wouldn’t have to leave the hotel room once we get settled in for a night or two. Rerun, I don’t want to leave you.”
“Taylor, it’s fine. It’s four and a half months.”
“No.” I shake my head. “A lot can happen in that time.”
“Nothing’s going to happen.” She laughs condescendingly, which is humiliating. “Eighteen weeks is nothing.”
“I’m pretty sure I fell in love with you in less than eighteen milliseconds.”
“Taylor.” She rubs the back of her neck. “I have my job.”
“Rerun.” I pull her by the back of the neck until our noses nearly touch. “I am your job.”
I kiss her. I crush her mouth so hard, I’m sure her lips will be bruised after this onslaught. Instantly, I find myself swollen. I nudge her legs open, getting between them, and she doesn’t resist. When I hear her cane fall to the floor, I put my full weight on her, pushing her back onto the sofa. With one quick check of my two fingers threading through her hole, I find she’s as slippery as she was just moments ago. Her back arches and she moans into my mouth as I drive into her.
Her little cunt is so tight yet so eager and wet. I drive harder and go deeper, as I plaster kisses all over her. With each gasp, her lips try to escape mine, desperate to gain air or let go of a foul word because I’m fucking her—hard. I need this. I need her to understand.
All that talk with Penny brings out the animal in me—an insatiable need to claim, own, this woman. And I believe Ree can sense it. I want her to feel it. With each slam of my body against hers, she tries to inch away, to catch her breath, seeking relief. But I need her to understand my intentions—she’s mine. So, even as I start to flick her clit while I slam into her sweet little pussy, I won’t let her mouth leave because I need her to know I don’t just own her body and soul but the very air she breathes.
Rubbing her nub with amped agitation, she whimpers like a little animal caught by its prey. The high-pitched vibration of her call for mercy sends a tantalizing spell of ecstasy down my spine that lands in my balls and they tighten. She tightens as well, clamping down on my shaft.
I finally let her slick and swollen mouth free but only to tease her more with my mouth at her ear. “You’re coming with me, Rerun.”
“Yes,” she breathes hot into my neck while deepening the dig of her nails into my ass. “Yes, I’m going to come soon.”
“I meant you’re coming with me on tour. I want you with me, baby. I want to make love to you, just like this every day.”
“Taylor, I ca—” Her hips buck. She’s going to come and damn!
I’m about to as well.
“You have to pull out!” she cries. “Taylor you have to...”
She stiffens. I lift my head to look at her clenching eyes as her jaw drops wide to let out a guttural groan. Ah, fuck me. The beautiful convulsions of her climax propel me to pound into her with a few hard thrusts until I’m near the crest and I reluctantly pull out.
Grabbing the tip of my length, I jerk my cock until I release, feeling every intoxicating spasm as I watch myself blow, spraying all over Ree’s soft, delicate skin.
Getting up, I walk over to her kitchen and grab a towel. When I bring it back to wipe her up, she’s not wearing her usual face—the shamefully pleased with rosy pink cheeks face that I usually see. She looks perplexed and for some strange reason, I regret that I did not release inside of her.
“Come with me, Ree.”
“I can’t.”
Slowly, I drag the towel across her soft belly. “I want you with me.”
“Taylor, let’s not discuss it anymore. You’re leaving on tour tomorrow. Let’s just enjoy this last day together.”
Last day? That’s what I’m afraid of!
I stand up, throwing the towel across the room and grip my own hair. I want to pull it out!
“Ree, you have to come. I-I-I have to take care of you.” Fuck, I can’t even talk. “You can’t stay here by yourself. I don’t want you riding the bus again either. What if you fall? What if you get injured and end up in the ICU with a brain injury? You could die without me being around.”
“Taylor, that’s nonsense. I’m not going to fall and even if I did, I highly doubt I’d end up in critical care. And I’m certainly not going to die from tripping over my own feet. I’ve done that a thousand times.”
“Exactly! You could trip. You could die. Somebody could easily tip you over and you’d land on your ass just like what happened to you at the club. You have to come with me, Ree. I have to take care of you.”
She crosses her arms. “Taylor, I’m very capable of taking care of myself.”
“No, you’re not. You’re weak. You’re broken and you’re weak just like my mother was. She died because I didn’t do what she asked, and I killed her. I’m not leaving you knowing that my absence could kill you, too.”
Rerun’s brows pinch and she cocks her head to the side, examining me. “Taylor, what do you mean? You didn’t kill your mother.”
“Yes, I did. It’s my fault she died.”
“Taylor, you were three when your mother passed.”
“Yeah, but I remember. I remember her like it was yesterday. I kicked her. I could tell she wasn’t feeling well but I kept on with the tantrum I was having so I kicked my foot in her chest and she keeled over. I was even proud of myself before I realized she was dead.”
“That’s...” She pauses, looking me over. “That’s not what happened.”
“It is what happened. I was there.”
“Taylor, you were a baby. You could barely dance on your tippy toes. How can you expect to rely on a memory from when you were such a small boy?” Ree comes forw
ard planting her hands on my shoulders and it annoys me.
Does she think I’m not capable of remembering when I force myself to remember my mother. Every. Single. Day? Because it’s not just the tragedy I caused that I remember but the feelings my mother invoked—love, joy. Every minute that I can, I dance for her in hopes that maybe she’s watching. From heaven? I don’t know. But I want her to be proud, happy. I want to return all that love and joy I carry.
I knock Ree’s hands away. “Big or small, it doesn’t matter. I killed her. I kicked her in the heart and she crumbled.”
Ree tries to cup my cheeks but I block her hands and grip her wrists.
“Your mother was bulimic, Taylor.” Ree’s eyes are watering. “She had a weak heart and I know this because I know everything about you, including your mother. I’ve read the articles. She had an electrolyte imbalance due to her eating disorder, which caused her heart to beat irregularly. She’d been dealing with it for nearly a year. Please tell me you haven’t been blaming yourself for what happened to her this whole time.”
“I am to blame, Ree. If I had just listened to her. Stopped fooling around, taken some fucking pictures and danced, she wouldn’t have gotten so weak.”
Ree speaks softly. “Listen to me. You didn’t kill her. It was just bad timing.”
“That’s exactly what I’m trying to tell you!” I shout in her face. “This tour! It’s bad timing. I’m a dancer. I understand timing and what it means to be on cue and every bone in my body is telling me this is not the right time for me to leave you.”
“That doesn’t make any sense. Why would you think that?”
Ugh! Everything inside me is about to burst. “Because, woman! I fucking love you! How many times do I have to say it?”
Her mouth falls into a flat line. “You don’t really mean it, Taylor. You just feel sorry for me. I’m a challenge and the second you realize you’ve won this will be over.”
What the fuck!
I grab her by the arm, putting my finger in her face. “That’s not true and you know it. The only reason you won’t admit to loving me back is because you’re ashamed of your Goddamned foot and I’m a dancer.”
“You’re not just a dancer, Taylor. You’re the best. On the planet. So, you shouldn’t be thinking about anything else. Certainly not me. Dance is the only thing you should be worrying yourself with.”
Funny, how that’s my usual philosophy and I want to smash it.
Grabbing Ree by the jaw, I pull her mouth to near mine. “Then I’m not dancing anymore.”
I hear Ree’s throat contract as she swallows. “Don’t say that.”
I say it again. “No more dance. I refuse. I’m not dancing anymore.”
“Yes, you are.”
“No, I’m not.”
Her eyes narrow. “Don’t say that to me. Don’t ever say that to me. You’re a dancer and a beautiful one at that. That’s all you should be doing. You’re gifted and blessed. Dance is the only thing you should be concerned about. Not me.”
We stare at one another. Nothing moves but the flutter of her eyelashes.
“I’m quitting,” I say. “For you.”
“I want you out.” She huffs. “Get out of my apartment. I don’t want you here anymore.”
Oddly, my legs feel weak. I find that I’m checking in with every one of my muscles to maintain my stance.
Ree finally tries to wiggle her chin free from my fingers but I tighten my grip.
She smacks me on the arm. “I said get out!”
Everything in my body says to fight, to argue, to use every appendage at my disposal to get Rerun to see the truth, which is that I love her and it’s her damn perception of her foot that is literally standing between us.
She grips my wrist at her chin with both hands. “Taylor, I said. Leave.”
An ache—the one I’ve been carrying around since Ree and I first met digs deeper. I feel like I just can’t win with her and a light bulb goes off. Is it possible she’s right? Is the fact that she’s a challenge the only reason I’m still here?
Regardless, I hate the way she’s looking at me. It’s like she doesn’t see me anymore. Just the person she expects me to be—her idol. A danzatore. A ballerino.
I let her go to bend over and pick up her cane. Placing it in her hand and stepping away, I give Ree the best smile I can give—picture perfect. It’s an image that I’m sure will look great plastered in the back of her mind like a poster on the wall or saved as a tiled backdrop on her cellphone.
Gathering my things, I hear her shuffle, so I pick up speed to leave. I need to go before I convince myself to stay and end up fighting with her and that would hurt us both. Not to mention, it would go against the one vow I made to myself a long time ago, which is the only thing that truly matters.
If Ree wants me to dance, then that’s what I’ll do.
I always do what my family expects of me.
16
Rerun
A calm surrounds me. The space in my apartment suddenly feels relaxed and...
Empty.
The thunder, the lightning, the storm that is Taylor Rose—it’s all gone. It’s been seconds—four or five maybe—and I already miss the turmoil he creates, his ownership of the atmosphere when he’s near. The thought of Taylor’s delicate kisses between the unpredictable rough ones and his soft touch typically preceded by needy grips of his strong claws makes me realize how alone I suddenly feel.
I’m naked without him.
Waddling to the sofa, I sit down. My lips feel bruised and I trail my fingertips across my pouting lips. Taylor’s spit still lingers in my mouth and I swirl my tongue to taste him, sighing before I swallow him down painfully. My body feels fatigued, but my soul aches for him. Inside, I’ve never felt so unfilled. He’s hollowed me out and I plant my palm over my chest to check my heart.
I feel it...
Beating...
Pulsing in an even rhythm like nothing’s wrong.
So, why does it hurt so badly?
I would think with all this achiness, my heart would just give out, cease to function. I would cease to be.
I recall the other night when Taylor licked up my chest. From my navel to my neck, he ran his tongue flat against my skin, making me shiver with delight.
My throat constricts and I palm my face to contain the heat and wetness welling up. I’m going to cry.
Tucker throbs. Of course, my mother fucker of a foot is going to steal this moment from me. Tucker rules me—every aspect of my life. He has to have a say like he intends to keep me in ruin.
I lift my knee to my face to look at my defective foot, remembering how I hated myself so bad as a kid wishing my fairy godmother would wield her wand to magically transform me into something normal one day.
You have cute feet. In fact, the one you’re worried about I see has a bit more of an arch and an inner curve than the other, but I wouldn’t have known it was different if you didn’t limp when you walk.
I remember that’s what Taylor said when he first got a glance.
Lifting my foot, I pair my feet together. I don’t know what he thought he saw, but they are different although...
I guess my feet look more alike than I’ve noticed before, especially since Taylor painted all ten toes for me. In red. It’s very strange how he’s obsessed with giving me pedicures. He even talks to my feet. It’s so weird how he’ll have conversations with my foot. He’s even considered giving each toe, or my little piggies, a name as well and I laugh to myself, recalling the quirky puppet voices he made.
He also seemed to enjoy massaging my legs when we hung out on the couch together, pretending to watch TV when really we were both just waiting for the other to make the first move so we could make out and have sex afterward.
Taylor has even gone as far as to nip at my toes, trying to lick and bite on them. And not just on the one good side but he’s attempted several sucks on all my toes. Of course, I wouldn’t let him, which I believe is why
he kept trying.
Again, he loves a challenge, so he could never leave me alone.
He’ll pretty much do whatever I want. He even asks me what I want and not just in bed but what he should cook, what TV show to watch, what music I want to listen to. He says it’s because he wants to know everything about me—what I love, what I hate, what makes me happy, what makes me sad. He’s gone on incessantly with his questions. It is never just about what positions I like best when we’re both in bed but he genuinely wants to know what makes me tick. It drives me crazy sometimes how often he checks in. “You want this?” “You like that?” “Does this turn you on?” It’s like he can never seem to get enough input.
Like he’s obsessed.
He even took pictures of me when I least suspected and created a private Instagram account dedicated to me and manages the profile. Not surprisingly, I only have one follower—Taylor—despite the hundreds of pics he’s put up of me. It’s like he’s some lovesick, crazed...
Oh shit!
I clasp my hands to my heated cheeks. Taylor’s a fan. My fan. My biggest fan!
There are tons of personalities online with disabilities who have fans. Some have even met through social media, gone on dates, and gotten married. It’s amazing the connections people can make with just a little introduction. No one knows this better than me. No one understands the potential for online relationships better than I do.
I’ve been misjudging Taylor. He’s not above the clouds. He’s a person, too. He’s just never found other interests beyond dancing—and that’s my job. To connect him with other interests. With people who interest him. With me.
Planting my feet on the floor, I reach for my cane. Quickly, I make my way to the bathroom to clean up, making myself presentable, get dressed, and schedule an Uber ride.
I need to hurry. I need to talk to him. Taylor will start his exhibition soon and I don’t want to interrupt as he will be performing in the ballroom in front of the entire school and some alumni, most of whom had paid a nominal fee to watch him dance with Diamond before the couple leave for the tour tomorrow.
The Kisser Page 15