by Tara Sivec
I clench my hand into a fist and punch his fucking chest because anger is the only emotion I know how to handle.
“You don’t love me! You fucked me, there’s a huge difference!”
He shakes his head. “Nice try, Fireball, but I happen to know you love me, too, so quit being so goddamn stubborn!”
I pull my fist back again and let it fly towards his chest, but he grabs onto my wrist and hauls me against him.
“Stop fucking hitting me! What is it with you and pain?!”
“Stop fucking talking about love!” I fire back, choosing to ignore the pain remark. “You’re just saying that because you feel guilty about what happened in high school.”
“It has nothing to do with guilt. I LOVE YOU! I FUCKING LOVE THE SHIT OUT OF YOU!” He screams into my face.
I stomp my foot like a two-year-old and try to hold back the words that are on the tip of my tongue, but I can’t stop them. I can’t stop the truth from flying out of my mouth.
“GODDAMMIT, I HATE THAT I LOVE YOU, TOO!”
His face immediately loses every ounce of anger and his jaw drops.
I want to laugh. It’s right there, bubbling around in my belly and I want so badly to just throw my head back and let it out, but I can’t do that. I just told him I loved him right back, and now I’m even more pissed than I was before. This irritating man made me fall in love with him all over again, dammit!
“Let me tell you something,” I shout angrily.
He doesn’t even let me finish my sentence. His mouth crashes to mine and I immediately part my lips and let him in. I groan as soon as I feel his tongue against mine. I don’t remember what the hell I was going to say to complete that last sentence and right now I don’t care. His tongue sliding against mine has turned me stupid.
Pressing my hands against his chest, I push him backwards without stopping the kiss. His feet move and his arms wrap around me as he pulls me with him. I push harder when we get to the other side of the room and slam his back against the wall so roughly that it knocks a picture loose and I hear it crash to the floor.
He quickly turns both of us, pulling his mouth away from mine to spin me around, placing his hands on my back and shoving the front of my body against the wall. I slam my hands against it to hold me up while I feel him push his pants down behind me and hear the crinkle of a condom wrapper being opened.
Jesus, does he keep those things in his pajamas? Should I be offended that he assumed we’d fuck this morning and grabbed one for the road or just thankful that he’s resourceful?
Pressing my cheek against the cool wall, I sigh in relief and forget about the magically appearing condom when he roughly pushes my skirt up over my ass, bends his knees and drives his cock up inside of me in one hard thrust. We both groan when he pauses, and I feel my pussy clench around him.
“Fuck, you drive me crazy,” he mutters against the back of my neck as he starts moving, slamming his hips against my ass, his cock filling me and making me beg for more.
“Harder, fucking harder!” I shout.
He does as I ask even though it seems to piss him off, fucking me so hard that the front of my body slams against the wall over and over.
“I wanted to do it slow this time,” he growls as he pumps into me faster and faster. “Jesus Christ, you feel so fucking good taking my cock.”
One of his hands slides around to the front of my body and his fingers immediately dive under my skirt and find my clit.
I moan loudly as he uses the tips of his fingers to circle the wet, swollen bud. His fingers move slowly, even though he’s fucking me like a machine, and I feel myself pulsing against them as he continues sliding them around and around with just the right amount of pressure. He doesn’t stop, he doesn’t switch up his movements, he just rubs my clit like an expert until I’m panting against the wall, jerking my hips against his hand to help him make me come. I need this relief like I need air to breathe. I’m so fucked up inside and my heart is swelling with so much emotion that I need DJ to wash it all away. I need him to make me feel worthy of everything he’s given me.
My movements are erratic as I race closer and closer to my orgasm, but that doesn’t disturb DJ’s rhythm as he fucks in and out of me. His cock almost slips out every time I jerk my hips against his hand, but that just makes him pound into me even harder the next time.
“Oh, fuck! Oh, my God!” I shout as the pleasure grows and grows between my thighs while he adds pressure to his fingers as they continue to slide around my clit.
“Say my fucking name when you come,” he tells me through clenched teeth right by my ear as his fingers swirl faster around my clit, rubbing it like he fucking owns it.
Goddamn him with the orders again! Too bad I’m so far gone in ecstasy that I don’t even care. My thighs start to shake with the effort of holding myself up and the tireless bucking of my hips against his fingers. My orgasm uncoils low in my belly and I feel my pussy pulse with the start of my release, every inch of my body tingling in anticipation.
“Fuck, I can feel you coming. That’s it, baby, come on my cock. Say my fucking name.”
His words make my orgasm even more intense and a scream rips from my throat as I come.
“DJ!” I scream. “Fuck, fuck, DJ! Fuck, I’m coming!”
He stops fucking me long enough to hold himself inside of me and let me ride out my release against his fingers. My hips rock against his hand as he continues the maddening brush of his finger tips against my clit, prolonging my orgasm until I’m chanting his name for so long that my voice grows hoarse. He keeps his fingers against my pussy as he starts slamming into me again. It only takes a few thrusts before it’s his turn to shout my name. I feel his warm breath against the back of my neck as he pants and presses his upper body harder against my own while his hips jerk and pound against my ass and his cock pulses as he spills his come into the condom.
He finishes with one last shout, slumping against my back and pushing me harder against the wall. His fingers are still pressed gently against my clit and I feel his cock continue to pulse inside me with the aftershocks of his release. Aside from our heavy breathing, the only other sound in the room is the ticking of the clock hanging above the sink.
Did we really admit that we loved each other and then have angry sex against the wall?
He slowly pulls himself out of me and quickly turns me to face him.
“Don’t even think about taking back that whole ‘I love you’ thing,” he warns as he pulls the condom off, tosses it into the trashcan and yanks his pants up.
Yep, that totally happened.
“Fine, but you’re still not going to live with me,” I argue, moving away from him, smoothing my skirt down and heading over to the now-cold pan of scrambled eggs and bacon.
He walks up behind me, wraps his arms around my waist and kisses the back of my head.
“We’ll discuss it later. After we have dinner with my parents.”
Oh, hell no!
I haven’t stopped staring at Phina since we got to my parents house, partly because I can’t believe how fucking beautiful she is, but mostly because she was entirely too agreeable about having dinner with my family. Finding a note on my front porch when I took out the garbage after breakfast asking me if I’d had my fill of the whore yet might have had something to do with it. I immediately called Jackson and told him I’d changed my mind. I wanted him on Phina at all times, even when she was with me. Just because I want to protect her and think I’d be good at protecting her doesn’t mean I can, and I’m man enough to admit that. I’m a trained fireman and paramedic and I’m useful in emergency situations, I’m a hell of a fighter (when I’m not blinded by jealous rage) and I know my way around firearms, but I’m not going to pretend that I would know exactly what to do if that crazy fuck finally showed his face one night while Phina and I were cozied up on the couch watching a movie or some shit. He’s obviously keeping a close eye on Phina, he’s trashed her house and he’s tried to k
ill her with an overdose of insulin, even if the PD has officially ruled it an accident due to the lack of fingerprints or any kind of solid evidence to the contrary.
Our conversation was tense on the car ride over and I wasn’t sure she’d even get out of the car when we got here.
“It’s just my parents and my sisters, no big deal.”
Phina glared at me from the passenger seat. “No big deal, my ass. I don’t do family gatherings. These people are huggers, aren’t they? Oh, Jesus, I think I’m starting to get hives.”
As I passed a slow moving truck, I watched out of the corner of my eye as she started scratching the skin of her arms.
She could pretend all she wanted, but I’d seen the way she acted around families at the charity fair. She thrived on being around happy people, especially children. I knew my sisters would be bringing their kids to our weekly Sunday dinner and I was looking forward to making Phina eat her words, as well as my mom’s pot roast.
“I love you, and my family is going to love you. Just relax,” I reminded her as I pulled onto my parent’s street.
“I hate you so much for this right now,” she muttered.
Luckily, I’ve become a master at Phina-speak. I’ve learned that every time she says she hates me, it really means she loves me, so I’m not as bothered by it anymore. She can hate me over and over, all night long.
After breakfast, I got a call from Jackson, letting us know Phina’s house was all clear. They weren’t able to obtain any fingerprints, but at least the mess was contained to just the living room. He called in a cleaning service and when we stopped by for her to take a shower and get a change of clothes, you couldn’t even tell that anything had happened the previous night. The crew even threw a couple of rugs down in the living room until the singed carpet could be replaced.
I thought for sure she would fight me when it came time to leave her place to head to my parent’s house, but she was anxious to leave. I could tell she no longer felt safe there by how she refused to stay in the living room for more than a few seconds and wouldn’t touch or look at one thing in that room as she walked through it. I hated that she couldn’t feel comfortable in her own home, but at least I could sleep easier at night knowing she would be curled up next to me in bed without us having to argue for hours about it. She packed a bag as soon as she got out of the shower, and I didn’t even have to beg her. We’re definitely making progress.
“Your mother has hugged me seven times in the last thirty minutes. SEVEN,” Phina whispers, walking up next to me to stand in front of the fireplace.
Wrapping my arm around her shoulder, I hug her to my side and kiss the top of her head. “Don’t let her fool you. She’s been begging me for another grandchild for years. She was probably trying to feel up your ovaries when she hugged you to make sure they are in working order.”
Phina elbowed me in the ribs and we both laughed.
A few seconds later, the front door opens and the house erupts into chaos and noise. Men, women and children pile through the door, tossing coats and shoes in the general vicinity of the entryway, their voices growing louder as they tell stories, argue and shout greetings to my parents.
“Oh, my God. You said it was just your parents and sisters, not an entire fucking zoo,” Phina grumbles with a worried look on her face.
“Uncle DJ! Uncle DJ!” my six nieces and nephews shout all at once when they see me standing in the living room.
I remove my arm from Phina’s shoulder and brace myself for the herd that is running full speed across the living room to me. Six heads slam into my knees, thighs and stomach and six sets of arms grab onto me as they each continue to shout my name, vying for attention.
Groaning in mock pain, I take my time kissing each of their heads and telling them to stop growing or they’re going to be taller than me before Christmas.
“Alright, monkeys! Everyone back away from Uncle DJ and let him breathe!”
I look up and smile at my oldest sister, Dannica, as the kids extract themselves from my legs and scurry off to find their grandparents.
Dannica gives me a kiss on the cheek before turning towards Phina.
“You must be Phina,” she tells her, holding her hand out. “Sorry about the noise level.”
The shrieks and screams coming from the kitchen must mean that the kids found my father and he’s currently tickling each of them.
While Phina shakes Dannica’s hand, I look at her questioningly.
“Oh, please. Did you really think mom wouldn’t call each of us as soon as you brought a woman home? I knew her height, weight, hair and eye color and what she was wearing five seconds after you got here,” Dannica informs me.
The squealing and shouting all of a sudden gets louder, but this time it’s from my other two sisters as they come running into the living room, wrapping their arms around Phina and jumping up and down.
“These two overeager idiots are Delaney and Devon,” I shout over the noise as Phina catches my eye above Delaney’s head.
The girls let go of Phina and each take their turn smacking me in the arm.
“Oh, shut up!” Devon scolds me as she beams at Phina. “It’s not every day you find out your brother isn’t gay.”
“Heeeeey!” I protest.
“Please, he was never gay,” Dannica states.
“Thank you,” I tell her in appreciation.
“He was a manwhore who never stuck with one woman long enough to bring her to dinner,” she finishes.
I groan while Phina laughs.
“I’m so glad you’re enjoying yourself,” I tell her.
Her face lights up in one of those rare smiles that I’ve been dying to have aimed at me for weeks.
“Seriously, this is the best day EVER!” she laughs again.
Turning to face Dannica, she leans in and whispers loudly. “Tell me you have baby photos somewhere. Particularly awkward ones of him in tighty-whiteys or wearing your mother’s make-up.”
Dannica laughs. “Oh, I’ve got something even better. How about him dressed up as a pretty princess? Little brother especially liked the tiara and high heels.”
Delaney and Devon start laughing at my expense and head off to the hall closet to grab every embarrassing photo they can find.
“You are going to pay for this,” I whisper in Phina’s ear when Dannica heads off to help find photos.
“Whatever you say, pretty princess,” she laughs before leaning up on her tip toes to kiss my cheek.
“DRAKE JEFFERSON TAYLOR, GET IN HERE AND HELP ME SET THE TABLE!” my mother screams from the dining room.
I groan and drop my head into my hands.
“Drake Jefferson?” Phina questions.
She pulls my hands away from my face and I roll my eyes. “My mother is the only one who’s ever allowed to call me that, so don’t get any ideas.”
Wrapping her arms around my waist, she looks up into my eyes. “I don’t know, I might like shouting that name later tonight instead of DJ.”
My dick turns to steel in my jeans.
Phina kisses my chin, then my cheek, and then uses her teeth to tug gently on my earlobe.
“I wonder if Drake can make me come harder than DJ,” she whispers against my ear.
Her words make me wonder if it’s possible to come in my pants just from the feel of her warm breath alone.
Phina stares out the window at the passing landscape as we make our way home from my parent’s house later that night. I check the rearview mirror and see Jackson’s cruiser a few hundred yards behind us. He stayed parked outside my parent’s house and Phina insisted on taking him a plate of food when we were finished eating. It didn’t take her long to get over her embarrassment that a guy she dated would be the one in charge of keeping her safe. If only I could get over my irritation that she dated him in the first place. I didn’t want to worry my parents about what’s going on, so I kept them busy in the living room while she snuck into the kitchen to grab the food and run it outsid
e.
As I wait at a red light, I glance over at her profile, reflected in the streetlights from the curb. I don’t know what she was so worried about tonight. She fit in perfectly with my loud, obnoxious family. She laughed and joked with them, she got down on the floor and played a dozen games of Candy Land with my nieces and nephews and she even initiated the good-bye hugs when it was time to leave. My heart aches for Phina the little girl and how she never knew what it was like to grow up in a loving family like I did. I want to ask her more about her childhood, but I don’t want to take the happy, serene look off of her face right now. The little information she did give me when she was practically passed out last night was almost too much to for me to handle. The idea that anyone, especially her own father, would do something as sick and twisted as put his cigarettes out on her skin disgusts me.
I don’t want to push her. I know I need to let her talk to me on her own, when she’s sober and aware of what she’s saying to me. I can’t take away her scars and I can’t erase her memories from her past, but I can kiss the pain away and promise her a better future. One filled with family and love and happiness. One where she doesn’t have to be afraid to trust and lean on other people. I want her to know that not everyone in her life will let her down. I don’t know how to even begin helping her when there’s still the threat of her father out there somewhere, trying to bring all of that pain back into her life. I want to end that motherfucker, to ruin him for what he did to her as a little girl and I want to make him pay for what he continues to do to her as an adult.
Reaching across the console, I wrap my hand around hers, resting on her thigh. With her face still turned to look out of her window, she threads her fingers through mine and squeezes.
At least we’re making progress. She smiled and she laughed just for me today. I’ll take that one tiny step forward for now, but soon enough, I’m going to make her give me an entire leap in the right direction.
I don’t know how long I can keep this up. I’m not this person who is in a loving, committed relationship and who’s happy all the time. It feels right, and every day I spend with DJ is better than the one before it, but how much longer will he put up with my strange requests in the bedroom?