by Lucy Smoke
He thrusts, filling me up until my vision blurs. Tears leak out of my eyes, sliding over my cheeks, mingling with our breaths as he pants above me, arms bent and straining as he holds the both of us against the pool wall. My hands slide towards his face. I cup his cheeks and bring his lips to mine, holding him firmly. If I’m going to be broken, then he is too.
Maybe this is the way we’re supposed to be – ice and fire, burning and freezing away the world. Each of us destructive in our own way. In our own right.
Tax pulls back and pumps forward once more, his fingers likely bruising my skin. Embers race along my spine, speeding us towards a pinnacle. When I kiss him again, I keep my eyes open. Not because I want to etch this into my memory – stab my own sins into my mind like I have before. I want to watch everything about Tax. Hold everything he does close for the rest of my life. He is the one sin that I will never regret. The one sin that will never cause me pain or hate. Being with him is being baptized in the darkness. Except this time, I’m not alone.
“Love.” When Tax whispers my name, I feel flames dancing across my numb skin, chasing away the ice. Finally, I close my eyes and I tuck my head close to his throat. I would shred my own legs and crawl for the rest of my life rather than be taken away from this moment.
This is what it’s like. This is what feeling is. It’s fire and ice and danger and destruction. It’s the push and pull. Anger and hatred. It’s drowning and breathing. A yin and yang of immeasurable heights that can kill or give life. Nothing else can compare. It’s every dream and every nightmare I’ve ever had. It’s every story I’ve ever written.
“I love you,” I whisper the words into his skin as he stills against me.
Tax grips my hair and yanks my head away, shocking me when his angry, dark eyes meet mine again. “Good,” he says, “because I fucking love you too, Lovely.” He withdraws from me, my eyes widening in surprise. I never expected a return. I was prepared to give away what I never thought I could feel, for nothing. “And that means you’re mine,” he says before his hand tightens in my hair, my scalp tingling and stinging all at once.
Crying out, I clench my legs and every other muscle in my body when his other hand leaves my waist and travels down between my legs. He rubs my clit, circling as he bites my lip and watches. The fire he kindled burns hotter, raging white and red until it consumes me. I scream as he powers into me, again and again.
“Come on, Lovely, let me see you fly,” I hear him whisper the words like a fucking curse. And then I do.
I raise my gaze to the sky and I can see it – wings made of fire and ice. I cry out. My body shakes against his as his own breath catches, and he releases my hair and re-grips my hips, pounding me against the wall. The water slaps onto the concrete – the only noise other than the sounds we’re making. Tax stutters to a stop, cursing low – and I realize at the same moment, he’s not wearing a condom. He can’t possibly know if I’m on birth control or not. I open my mouth as I come down from the orgasm high, but it’s too late. He rips himself away from me just before he comes. He pants against my skin, holding me like if he were to go, I might fly away. What he doesn’t know is that I don’t ever want to. I’ll love him – like I never thought I could – forever.
16
Tax
I’m completely wrecked by her. Enraptured. Stuck. Sucked in and imprisoned. As I help her out of the pool, I watch as she readjusts the bikini that I’m now wishing I had ripped when I tore it off her earlier. I want to see her naked again, completely bare to my gaze. I don’t ever want to cover her up. I’m a fucking idiot for almost not realizing it in time. No condom. Fuck. I’m stupid.
“Hey, I’m sorry,” I say.
She squeezes her hair, ringing it over her shoulder before turning and looking back at me. “About what?” she asks quietly as if she’s nervous.
I pull her towards me and her face tilts up. “I didn’t think to bring a condom.”
She stares at me for a moment, the rope of her wet hair hanging over one shoulder. “I’m on birth control and I’m clean,” she says.
“Oh.” I watch as she pulls away from me. “I’m clean too,” I assure her.
She nods, turning towards the gate. Her hand reaches for a chair and she drags it behind her. My lips quirk. She pops it close to the gate and then puts one foot on the seat. My feet eat up the distance between us until I’m standing before her. My hands grab her waist. Her eyes widen and before she can protest, I lift her up and over the gate. Then, kicking the chair away, I lift myself over once again as well. I take her hand.
Her eyes look up at me, big moons – windows into the darkest soul I’ve ever seen. But still, there’s so much passion, so much expression beyond those eyes of hers – ice never was so enticing. I can’t help myself. I lean down and let myself have her lips once more.
Fuck if she doesn’t feel like silk against my skin. Her taste is enigmatic – like the woman herself. Ice and fire. The fucking sweetest pain.
I walk Love back to her apartment and I can't help stealing another kiss at her door, my palm at the back of her nape. Such a fragile body. So easily fucking damaged. But it’s held up rather well for all the darkness and pain I see in her eyes. And that is true strength. The truest of all strength.
I clench my fists as I make it back to my apartment, imagining blood on my knuckles. My strength is nothing but a sham that I shamelessly attempt to romanticize. Strength is a prison from which I must be released. And the only time I ever truly feel free is when I’m with Love. She doesn’t know it, she couldn’t possibly realize it, but she’s my key, my open door.
"Well, aren't you looking spiffy," Ally giggles as she does her nails on the couch.
I hold out my arms. "They're just clothes," I say.
"Yeah, but those are your good jeans." She points at me with the end of her tiny nail brush.
Rolling my eyes, I pat the top of her head as I pass her on my way to the front door. "Yeah, yeah, just don't get any ideas while we're gone, squirt."
"Aren't you going to wait for Cross and Blake?" she asks as I open the door.
"Nope, I'm driving over with Love." I don't miss the brilliant smile on her face as I walk out, nor do I miss her last words.
"Don't get her pregnant, I'm not ready to be an auntie!"
I knock on the door and am once again greeted by the barely clothed roommate with a bad attitude. "Oh," she scowls, “it’s you."
I raise a brow as she holds the door open for me before retreating to her room. Ignoring her, I make my way to Love's room. When I'm standing in the doorway, I remind myself that there's a reason I'm taking her out. Love deserves to be shown off. She deserves to be shared with the people who mean the most to me – to Sarge and the old crew.
But the moment I see her, I have a hard time convincing myself that I shouldn't just rip up that little black dress of hers, bend her over the bed, and fuck her into tomorrow – and maybe the next day for good measure.
"Hey," she says, approaching me slowly.
When she gets closer, my eyes drop down to the hint of cleavage revealed by her dress. Even though I've already had her in my arms – naked and gorgeous – I want her again. It’s a shock for me. Usually after the first time, my interest wanes. Not so, with Love.
"Hey," I grin, “ready to go?"
She nods, the ghost of a smile on her lips. I take her hand and we leave, heading out to the Jeep. I keep her fingers laced with mine as I drive. I never thought I'd be the kind of guy that held a woman's hand, much less kept looking at her across the console like I couldn't believe her existence. But I am that kind of guy with Love. I can't believe it. That she's really here with me. We pull up to Sarge's house – a one-story bungalow on the outskirts of Tega Kay – and there are already a number of people milling around outside. I can feel Love's hand tense in mine.
I slide a glance her way. "You okay?"
She's quiet for a moment before she finally looks at me. "Yeah," she says. Her smile is back
in place, though it's a bit strained. When she lets go to reach for the door, I click the lock in place. Her head whips back to me.
"If you're ever not okay," I say, "tell me."
She blinks. "Tax...I'm fine." I frown at her. "I mean, well, I'm not..." she sighs, "you really don't like the word fine." Her tone is soft, almost teasing, but I'm not budging.
"If you don't want to go, I can start the car and we'll go back to the apartments," I swear.
"Weren’t you looking forward to this?” she asks.
I shake my head. "I don't care. If you're uncomfortable, we don't have to go."
She meets my eyes and smiles. A real, honest smile. It's fucking radiant. Her hand touches mine and she leans forward, brushing those petal soft lips of hers against my mouth. "We're going," she says, "but I want you to hold my hand, okay?"
I'll fucking hold the world on my back if she asks me to. "Okay."
We get out, circling to meet at the front of my Jeep. Love takes my hand in hers and I lead her toward the front porch.
"Hey, Tax!" I turn just as Cross and Blake come around the side of the house. Blake's smiling for a change as they hold out beers to both Love and me.
"Hey Love, good to see you."
Love smiles at Cross and nods as she accepts the beer from Blake. "It's good to see you too."
"Sarge inside?" I ask.
"Yeah, the old geezer was sucking down some Fireball in the kitchen the last time I saw him."
"Old geezer?" Love looks at me questioningly before glancing around at the crowd that ranges from early twenties to mid-thirties.
I laugh. "He's not really old," I say.
"But he is a geezer," Cross argues.
I tip my own beer back and take a swig. "Why don't you go say that to his face?" I suggest.
Blake shakes his head. "Too late for that, he already did."
"Oh, yeah?" I grin before sliding my gaze back to Cross, who – now that I'm noticing it – is rather flushed in his cheeks and unsteady on his feet. "How many shots did he take you for?"
"It was only five," Cross replies, beaming ear to ear. "I totally beat him."
"He went easy on him," Blake admits. "But if you're looking for him, he's probably in the living room by now. We're gonna head inside, too; I hear there's a pool table somewhere."
"Nice, alright then, see you guys later." I wave them off, taking Love's hand and leading her up the porch. "Come on, Lovely, let me introduce you to Sarge."
Inside, the house is coated with the heavy scent and weight of cigarette smoke. I find Sarge in the living room just as Blake predicted. The heavily tattooed, former musician sits like a King on a throne and, of course, the motherfucker has a nice, fat cigar between his lips, and two girls on either side of him.
“Tax!” he booms across the room when he catches sight of me. Love starts, jerking her arm away from mine in surprise. Before I can reassure her, Sarge is on his feet and powering towards us. He wraps me up in those beefy arms of his and nearly crushes me with his grip. “Good to see you, man! Where the hell have you been?” he asks.
I grunt as he releases me and slaps me on the back, a wicked grin at the ready on his lips. “Hiding from the Giant of BloodSayer,” I reply.
His face mock falls. “Aw, come on, man, I ain’t gone by that in a long damn time. I don’t play anymore. Got my arm broken in a bar fight,” he admits albeit a bit sheepishly. “Fingers got a little nerve damage, can’t play as well as I used to.”
“No more guitar?” I’m shocked. “I’m sorry, man. That sucks major ass.”
“Nah. It’s alright. You know I wasn’t all that serious about it anyway. Not like you were.” His sharp eyes turn to Love. “Now who’s this pretty lady you got with you?”
I pull her closer, tucking her against my chest. “This is my girlfriend—” Holy fuck that felt good to say. I don’t even stop to give her a chance to deny it. “—Love.”
“Love?” He looks down at her curiously. “That a name or a nickname, sweetheart?”
I narrow my gaze at him, but Love’s hand brushes my chest as she leans her head against me and smiles at my old friend. “It’s my name,” she says. “Rather strange, I know.”
“Nah, not at all, sweetheart. Not any stranger than Sargent.” She reaches out to shake his hand, but the bastard just takes it and lifts her fingers to his lips, pressing a light kiss to her knuckles. “But you let me know if my boy Tax ever gives you any trouble, sweetheart. I’ll take care of ya. Sarge can make all your troubles go away.”
“No the hell you won’t, asshole,” I snap, pushing him away.
Sarge lets out a bellow of a laugh. “Never seen you get so possessive, man,” he teases. “Then again, never seen you introduce a chick as your girlfriend either. First time for everything I suppose.”
I look down at Love – at her amused, but sublimely happy expression: another first that I’ve seen, and I know he’s right. “Yeah,” I say. “First and last.”
Sarge slaps me on the back again, nearly making me stumble. I shoot him a glare, but he’s smiling so wide, his eyes are crinkled in the corners. “Why don’t you take her out back? Some of the boys from BloodSayer are out there running the DJ booth. It ain’t nothing much, but I’m sure your little Love there would enjoy a dance or two.”
I nod and look down. “You want to dance?” I ask her.
She shrugs. “I’m not much of a dancer, but I wouldn’t mind trying with you.”
I wave goodbye to Sarge and lead her towards the back patio. There are more than enough people to fill up the back-yard. Sarge looks like he’s invited half the damn neighborhood. And just like he said, I catch a glimpse of Rocks and Morgan – the other two members that were once with BloodSayer. Morgan’s red hair gleams in the lantern lights as she and Rocks stand side by side. Speakers pound out rock ballads and couples gather on the concrete slab just outside the back doors, swaying to the beat.
I take Love in my arms and stop. Just...stop. It feels like everything has slowed until time stands frozen. I see her face, gazing up at me. Those luminescent eyes of hers nearly glowing in the darkness of the backyard. A smoky haze blocks out the rest. The song is almost upbeat, almost happy...but it's something more. The lyrics sink into my veins and for a minute, I'm stone-cold sober.
She pulls closer to my chest, the pale skin of her throat right there as she turns her head and rests it on my shoulder. I blink, but the spell isn't broken. No, it's speeding up – I'm thrown forward. I see an entire life I never imagined. Her, with her gorgeous sometimes-sad smile, dressed in gold and white on a runway of rose petals heading my way. I see her in tears, clutching the fabric of my shirt. I don't know what has made her cry, but she's holding me, begging me, to keep her, to help her, to just hold her when she needs it. And I do.
I hold her for the longest time – for years. Because that's what I see for us. I see years and years of us.
I need her, I realize. Because it's not just seeing her in a wedding dress, smiling at me. It's not just seeing her crying and sad and heartbroken. It's seeing her with pets and animals surrounding her legs, looking up at me like I'm the sun and the moon and the stars – when she doesn't even realize she's all of that and more to me.
I squeeze her closer to me, feeling her heart beat against my chest. It's like a tiny bird. Like a dozen tiny birds, their wings flapping as they try to lift off. I look down again and smile when I catch a glimpse of the birds on her back shoulder and arm, flying off the branches of a barren tree etched into her white skin. No, it's not barren. It's waiting. Waiting for spring. I want to be that for her. I want to be Lovely's spring. I want it so badly, I know I'll kill the monstrous winter that keeps her entrapped if I have to.
As the song comes to an end and her feet stop, mine do as well. Love pulls back, and I cup her cheeks, surprising her. I can see her – transparent, a ghost in my past, present, and future. I press my lips to hers, my eyes remaining open. I want to see all of her.
Love's e
yes meet mine and though she seems shocked, she lets me press her mouth open and touch my tongue to hers. I watch her, waiting, wondering. She doesn't tense. She doesn't pull away. She isn’t retreating. No, she's here with me. Then she's opening her mouth fully and kissing me back like she sees it too. Or maybe she just sees the potential. I don't know. All I do know is that it's the most electric kiss I've ever had in my life.
This kiss is the kind of kiss that can wreck civilizations, decimate cities, and it would bring me to my knees if I weren't so set on keeping our lips pressed together. I would do anything in this moment to stop the clock, anything to hold her forever. But my Lovely is like the birds on her skin. She needs to be set free before I can hold her forever. I'll wait because she's worth it. She'll always be worth it.
17
Love
I don’t think I’ve ever felt so relaxed. If I have, I can’t remember. Tax’s hands are on me. I feel like he hasn’t stopped touching me all night and…I like that.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” I ask when he pulls away from our kiss.
“What am I looking at you like?”
“Like you’re thinking devious thoughts,” I say.
He grins, wickedly attractive – darkness and all. “I’m always thinking devious thoughts.” Tax leans down and presses his lips to mine once more, before retreating. His gaze goes over my shoulder as someone calls out to him from across the patio. I can’t wait to get him home, I think, where I can strip him down and kiss him some more. Hours with his lips on me are hours never wasted. If I spent the rest of my life with his mouth on my skin, I’d die happy.
“Tax, you bastard! Is that you?” I turn my head as a tall, sandy-haired man approaches. He and Tax slap hands in the way that is strangely masculine and almost boyish at the same time.