20
Rerun
Five days, four nights, two deliveries from the grocery store, plus one kimono from the shop around the corner and a drag of a cigarette outside in the alley because he was bored out of his mind while I was at work—that’s how long he’s been here.
And he hasn’t touched me.
At all.
Of course, we’ve made small talk, but we’ve yet to discuss anything serious other than my new job at a computer repair shop and our child.
It’s a little annoying how we’ve continued to tiptoe around the issue of his presence here. Not to mention, I have no idea what he’s been up to. All day, I’m sure he hangs out in his kimono but strips when he crawls into bed with me at night.
Naked. That’s how he chooses to sleep next to me. Butt. Naked. And it’s frustrating. He’s so damn…
Tempting.
I’ve offered to get him some clothes but he’s refused. His jeans are torn, which in truth makes me smile along with all his fans. Taylor managed to double the number of his followers after images were posted of him running and then leaping through the city.
But it’s very strange how he’s been shacking up in my studio apartment, never leaving except to visit the shop around the corner, when I’m confident he doesn’t like it here. I couldn’t move anything myself, so the place is virtually empty. Plus, I’m saving up for furniture for our baby. I still live out of a suitcase. I have a mattress on the floor, but I did manage to bring some knickknacks, my computers, and cookware—even though I don’t cook.
Taylor has cooked—naturally. There’s a meal for me every day when I get home. And the place is spotless. He cleans like crazy. There’s never a thing left on the floor.
But I’m curious how today is going to go since I’m off and it’s the weekend. The fact he’s been lounging around (beyond the cooking and cleaning) for days worries me. The man has not been by the conservatory to rehearse in nearly a week.
At least his muscles are still ripped and lean.
I sit up, scooting back on the mattress to plant my shoulder blades against the cool brick wall and take in a better view of Taylor’s back. His head is turned away. He looks adorable squeezing the pillow under his head. Consequently, my eyes gravitate towards his derriere, which is fully exposed. The sheets fold down just below his butt cheeks, which are so solid and round I could bounce a quarter off his ass.
He stirs. I hold my breath trying not to make a sound. The sun has risen but I’m not exactly ready for him to wake up yet. The second he does, he’ll dart into the kitchen and start cooking, which of course, I don’t mind. But then I’ll have to listen to his favorite lecture on how all I did was feed our baby microwave meals for the first few months of her life in utero.
I still like mac-n-cheese and I already can’t wait for our daughter to be born because all kids like that stuff and I’m not going to feel so alone in loving something so ordinary. I’ve seen ready-to-eat mashed mac in baby jars.
Interestingly, Taylor and I have talked about that this past week. He insists we’re not going to buy any jarred food and he’s going to prep and prepare everything from scratch. It’s a bit overzealous, but I’m not going to stand in the way of someone like Taylor, who has difficulty letting go of something he’s passionate about.
With him, I know I have to pick my battles.
Again, he stirs—this time rolling onto his back and allowing his package to be revealed. It’s funny how he grabs himself sometimes when he’s sleeping. He’s used to keeping his groin shaved because of dance, but since he’s been staying here, he’s gotten bristly, which I think bothers him, but I don’t mind. I especially love the trail of hair that is beginning to pave its way from his navel to groin. When it's fully grown in, I plan to rub my face in it.
If he’ll let me.
Watching his hand smooth down his front, I smile to myself when he grabs himself, fondling his rod for a few seconds before he rubs his abs. His hand makes its way to my ankle where he squeezes, and he finally allows his arm to fall to his side as he falls back into a deeper sleep.
I wonder if all men do that—constantly check themselves down there. As well as for their partners. Except, I’m not exactly sure if Taylor and I are partners. But I do wonder why he checks. I also wonder if other women get as excited as I do, watching a man handle himself.
He’s stopped handling, but I’m still staring at his manhood and I wonder what I’d have to do to get that thing to stand at attention.
Jesus, I’m so horny. I figure it’s due to hormones and my feelings are exaggerated because Taylor has yet to touch me in the same way he did when he was practically living in my old apartment during the six weeks before he went on tour.
Maybe he doesn’t want to touch me. Maybe he’s here to support the baby like he says but as soon as she’s born, he’s going to take her away like he originally mentioned. He’s got tons of money. He’s taken full control of his trust. He could easily hire the best lawyers and snatch our baby away.
“What are you huffing and puffing about over there?” asks Taylor, squinting an eye open as he yawns.
He stretches and dear Lord, I wish he’d stretch those tantalizing muscles all over me.
I grin. “Nothing.”
He rolls to his side to face me and grips then rubs my thigh. “Something’s bothering you. What’s up?”
Our eyes meet and the impact of everything that stands between us feels thick. He says he wants to be a family, but we can hardly communicate. And there are forces beyond us that seem desperate to keep us apart, like Penny and his career, which I fear means nothing to him now and could be my fault.
And there’s a baby that he says he wants to raise. But how can I trust him after what Diamond mentioned happened between them?
“Baby,” he says, squeezing my leg. “What’s bothering you?”
“Did you force Diamond to have an abortion?” I ask.
“Ree,” he chortles, retracting his hand and gripping the pillow. “You can’t believe anything Diamond says. She’s evil and she was never pregnant.”
“But everything you told her—you said the exact same things to me in bed. How you ‘didn’t care’ that we went without a condom. How you ‘didn’t care’ if I got pregnant.”
“Babe,” he groans. “Penny fired Delores after Delores caught Diamond viewing the school’s videos. Diamond must’ve watched us having sex, heard everything we said, and concocted a ploy with Penny to separate us. But I don’t want you to worry about that. Everything’s fixed. Delores is back, Diamond no longer dances with our company, and although the video cameras were your idea, I’m sorry, but I’ve had them removed.”
Why didn’t he tell me this earlier? “You did?”
“Yeah.”
“When?”
“This week.”
“Oh, I didn’t know. It sounds like you’ve been busy.”
He laughs to himself. “Whaddya think I’ve been doing all week while you’re at work?”
I shrug my shoulders. “I thought you were just hanging out. In your kimono.”
His face falls flat. “It’s not a kimono, babe. I’ve been to Asia, remember? It’s just a robe. And I haven’t been hanging out. I’ve been working. Somebody has to do all of the school’s administrative work since I fired Penny.”
“Oh,” I say again, blinking coyly.
Taylor grabs my jaw, pointing my face square in his direction. “I want you to know, I regret firing you and if you want your job back working for the school or to be my manager, it’s yours. I also want you to know that I never told Diamond I loved her. I’ve never told anyone, not one soul, I loved them. But I’m telling you right now—I love you.”
The sentiment fills my heart, but it doesn’t replace my fear that I still need to shield my child from danger.
“What about Penny? She practically threatened me—to end my pregnancy without my consent.”
Taylor takes in a long breath and cocks his head
, exhaling. “I’m giving Penny the mansion to live in and an annual stipend.”
I don’t mean to grimace, but I do.
“I know it seems I’m being overly generous,” he continues. “But she did raise me and I figure this is a wise choice. I don’t want us to live in that creepy place anyway. It was my father’s home. As long as she’s allowed to live there, Penny’s promised to leave us alone.”
I’m delighted with the thought Taylor’s considered moving in together. In fact, it makes me hot for him. But I gasp when I consider the conversation he must’ve had with his pseudo-grandmother. “So, you talked to Penny about everything I told you?”
“I didn’t talk to her, I threatened her,” he says. “I told her if she ever came near you or anyone of my kids again, I’d cut her off completely.”
“Any one of your kids?” I question. This is a startling revelation. “Are you planning to have several children?”
“Mmm, yeah,” he leans in, planting his sly smile against my belly mound. “I want for us to have at least ten.”
I grip his hair, yanking his head back. His mouth comes open and his tongue pokes out—hanging—as I glare at him. “Taylor, ten is a very big number.”
His eyes get lustfully hungry. “It’s not too big for you though, baby, is it? You seem to handle ten pretty well.” He’s referring to his cock and my eyes jump to what dangles between his legs.
Immediately, my body blooms with need. I lick my lips, ogling Taylor’s magnificent mass as it gets thicker, longer, and harder while he snakes his hand across the mattress and over my leg to cup my mound, but...
He doesn’t rub or fondle.
He just covers my junction with his palm, as if he only intends to protect rather than invade it.
Ugh! This is driving me insane! Why won’t he just touch me? I’m seething against the tantalizing heat of his hand. It’s like the old Taylor, the overly confident, fight-for-what-he-wants cocky bastard is gone and this new Taylor won’t put any pressure on me like the old one did.
And I want him to put the pressure on me. I want him to push his body on mine and use me.
I want to be used.
I want to feel desired.
And I’m surprised Taylor hasn’t tried anything. He should’ve learned by now that when he makes me feel hot, he can easily use me like he would’ve with any one of his fans waiting in the wings.
Because that’s the best part of being one of Taylor’s chosen.
To be a Rosie not only meant I had exclusivity but sex with a man trained to move in extraordinary ways.
I run the tip of my finger along his collarbone to give him the hint, but he doesn’t get it. He’s stuck on something else.
“Do you love me, Ree?” he asks.
Love? Surprising. I told him I loved him the first time we met in person on the bus. But it’s clear that’s not the type of love he’s questioning me about.
I glance at my foot—Tucker, that mother fucker. It doesn’t matter whether I love Taylor or not. Taylor deserves more than what I could give him, which is nothing but shame. A shameful fairy tale. He is the beauty and I am the beast. I only pray our baby will be everything like him and nothing like me.
“Hey,” he growls, massaging my jaw. “Beautiful girl, look at me,” he says sweetly before his indigos go dark and his tone gets gravelly. “I don’t want none of that now,” he scolds. “Whatever is going on in your head, just stop. I see the way you’re looking at yourself and I can tell what you’re thinking. Your foot is one of the reasons I love you so much. And I’m not going to let anyone, not even you, let my child think there’s anything wrong with her mother.”
“But there is something wrong with me, Taylor.”
“There’s nothing wrong.” He shakes his head. “Your foot is just different, but I happen to like different. Of all the funky feet I’ve seen, yours are my favorite. I love your crazy foot, Rerun. I love you.”
“Then, why haven’t you touched me or made a move since you’ve been here?”
Taylor comes up on his hands and knees to front me. “I don’t want to pressure you or make you feel stressed. And I don’t want to hurt you, considering...”
He plants his palm on my belly.
Lacing my fingers behind his neck, I pull at his head to bring his nose to touch mine. “You won’t hurt me.”
He breathes heavy into my mouth, lifting my top above my stomach and smoothing his palm in circles. “Are you sure? You look swollen. To be honest, it turns me on, but I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. Not in the slightest.”
“Taylor, I am swollen, and it makes me ache.” Taking his hand, I lead his fingers towards my center. “I need something—you—to ease the aching, both inside and out. Please, Taylor.” I’m begging. I reach for his already thickened shaft and run my thumb over his tip. “I need you to touch me. I need you inside me. I can accommodate you both.”
“Reeeee,” he breathes, exasperated, running his fingertips along my dripping slit. “Oh, baby, you’re soaked.”
Taylor’s mouth closes on mine and finally! With a tickle of his tongue behind my teeth followed by the press of his hungry lips, my body ignites! I’m so ecstatic with the notion we’re about to get intimate, I’m sure I’ve turned rosy.
Taylor slips back to peel off my clothes. I’m trying so hard to be calm and not kick them away too excitedly, so he doesn’t know how desperate I am.
With his hands on my knees, spreading, and one soft kiss at my entrance, Taylor comes up to hover and enters me slow and steady—testing to see how far he can go. With each inch creeping in, the velvety feel of his hardness against my plump swollen skin makes me want to burst. I can’t wait to erupt all over him.
“Deeper,” I tell him, but he’s taking his time. “Taylor, harder. Please.”
He pauses, smoothing his thumb down my cheek. “Baby, I don’t want—”
I’m not exactly sure where this inner nastiness comes from, but I can’t keep myself from firing at him. “Taylor! Goddamnit!” I shout. “Will you just fuck me? You’re a dancer. Will you work your damn ass, please?”
“Jesus.” His eyes widen, and he finally moves.
“Mmm,” I moan as he penetrates me repeatedly. Wherever all that pent-up craziness came from, it felt good to let it out and let him in.
With every thrust, I find I’m falling—sinking—into an abyss of pure bliss.
“You okay, babe?” he asks. “Are you sure you can handle this?”
“Yeah.” I gaze at his abs to watch. The twitch and flex of those muscles turn me on. “Mmm, Taylor,” I moan, enjoying his rhythm. “Please. Don’t. Stop.”
He stops!
His body ceases to move as his long, stiff, thick cock stills within me.
“Look at me, Ree,” he says, grabbing my chin to face him. Our eyes lock and his tone is serious. “You don’t ever lie to me again. That hurt and as far as I’m concerned there’s no reason for us to live with that kind of pain. So, no more lies. Do you understand me?”
I gulp, hesitating. I do feel ashamed that I lied to him in the first place but I was only trying to protect him.
He glides himself in deeper and my body responds with a delightful tremor. “Do. You. Understand?”
“Mhm,” I nod. “No more lies.”
“Mmm,” he moans as he kisses me and I realize how thankful I am that somehow we’ve made it back to this point. To taste his sweet lips is my dream come true.
Grabbing my foot, he wraps my leg around his back and leans in further. Softly, he suckles my nipple while avoiding my belly and thrusts. It’s obvious he’s trying not to crush my body, but he’s still able maneuver and caress me.
He’s so damn talented.
“Awh, baby, you feel so good,” he says, and I feel his hips flex in a way that allows me to feel his full length burrowing within.
I grip his hair at his crown.
I’m going to come.
“Tell me you love me,” he says. “Tell
me I make you feel good.” He nips at my breast and my body becomes alive.
“Taylor, you make me feel...”
The sweet warmth of his mouth at my teat and the fiery friction of his penetrating shaft is bringing me to ecstasy.
“Oh God, it’s goo—” My hips jerk as I explode. I want to respond—tell him exactly what he wants to hear but I can’t. Instead, I howl. I’m coming so hard.
My clenching prompts him to slam into me even harder.
“Ugh,” he groans, gripping as he comes in me.
“God, that was good,” he says, falling to his side, his head landing back on the pillow. Surprisingly, he looks exhausted. I’ve never seen Taylor Rose looking so fatigued before.
I squint an eye. “Are you okay?”
“Am I okay?” he laughs, throwing his arm over my neck and hooking my head into his inner elbow. “Are you okay?” He presses his lips to my forehead.
“I’m fine.” I smile and he smiles back.
But not at me.
He’s smiling at someone else.
“How about you?” he talks to my belly.
“Are you okay?” He leans over to kiss and smear his wet lips over my hump.
“She’s okay,” I reply.
Taylor makes eye contact with me. “Ree, would it be okay if we moved?”
“To where?”
“I don’t know,” he shrugs. “Maybe into a house. Or a townhouse. We can start with a little pink one if you want.”
“Little is not likely to hold ten kids.”
“You’re right,” he says. “They’ll be falling all over themselves. Hmm...” He pokes his finger at my navel—half-popped out—and swirls as he thinks.
I consider that maybe he’s serious about having ten kids, which, if I’m honest with myself, freaks me out a little. “Maybe we should just start with one kid,” I say, “and see how it goes.”
“Err,” he growls to himself. “Okay, I’ll entertain the idea of one. For now. And after Lily is born, then we can talk about having two... or three... or four more.”
I gulp. “Lily? Don’t you think we should discuss naming our child together?”
The Kisser Page 20