Expressionate

by Lucy Smoke

  Apparently, she had known that too because several days after I came back from the hospital, she had come to him with a boarding school recommendation. Well, not boarding school—but a Governor’s school of Arts and Sciences closer to the Greenville area in South Carolina. It is only three hours from where we are currently—though it would be much farther when we head up to the Big Apple. She had been so excited to live in the dorms with other girls; even though I know Tax was worried, he had eventually agreed to sign the permission papers.

  I crane my neck around and kiss Tax’s cheek. “She’ll be fine,” I promise.

  “Is that Love?” Cross asks.

  “Of course it is, numbnuts, who the fuck did you think it was?” Tax asks.

  “Cool it, man, just a question. Besides, I wanted to talk to her, too.”

  Curious, I glance towards the phone. “What’s up?”

  “Saw your sister in the apartment next door earlier, what’s up with that?”

  “Beverly moved out when the water damage was taken care of.” —we still haven’t told anyone what really happened in that bathroom, and hopefully, the secret will die with us— “And she never came back,” Tax says. “So, Trish is moving in to help Love out with the bills.”

  “Huh, that makes sense – she was moving shit.”

  “Did you help her?” Tax asks.

  “I tried,” Cross snaps defensively, “but I don’t think she likes me much.”

  “It’ll be fine,” I assure him, resting back against my boyfriend. “She’s just wary right now.” The warmth of his chest seeps through the fabric of our clothes. I want to turn and press my face into his neck and sink into his masculine smell, but I know this is neither the time or place. Still, it doesn’t make the craving go away.

  “Talk to you later, man,” Tax says.

  “Yeah,” Cross grumbles. “Later.” Tax presses down to end the call.

  “Almost done, little lady.” The gruff, weathered-skinned man with a graying shadow across the underside of his jaw wipes away a little blood from the inside of my wrist, and I smile at him. I can do that now. I can smile so easily, and it’s all because of the man at my back. He squeezes me just a little tighter, the saran wrap on his wrist crinkling against my side. When Bill finishes the elaborate, scripted name etched into my skin forever now, he cleans it, lotions it, and then wraps the tattoo in plastic. “All done, folks.”

  “Thanks, man,” Tax says, standing from behind me, offering the man more than twice what we agreed to pay

  Bill grins, the twin rows of small teeth – top and bottom – sunken into his gums showing. “Any time. I don’t usually like to do these couple tats, but I got a feelin’ ‘bout you two.”

  Looking down at the beautiful dark script—Taxton—across the inside of my wrist, I can’t help the smile that breaks across my face. Tax has one just like it, but with my name. It makes my chest ache and my thighs clench whenever I see it. Love. I never thought I’d have a reason to like my name. And I don’t like it—I love it. Especially when it’s on his skin.

  I take Tax’s hand as we move towards the front door of the older man’s shop. “Me too, Bill,” Tax calls out, opening the door for me. He looks down at me before smiling and whispering a repeat—for my ears alone, “me too.”

  “Where are we going?” I ask as Tax holds my hand tight, dragging me away from the stage where Cross and Blake are finishing setting up their equipment. “The show’s about to start.”

  “I know,” he says sharply. “I can’t wait.”

  “Wait?” I look back. “Wait for what?”

  Tax shoves through a bathroom door, pulling me in with him. When the door closes behind us, he flips the lock in the single stall room and shoves me against the sticker covered wall. His mouth comes down against my lips hard, and I melt under him, letting my own mouth open. Tax’s head breaches my skin and brands me. I feel like I’m carrying around his own mark. Probably because I am. I run my fingers over the fabric covering his chest, looking down at his wrist, where my name sits in black ink.

  “Fuck, Lovely, I can’t fucking wait to have you again.” Tax’s fingers travel south, reaching the hem of my skirt, lifting the fabric as he moves. Once he gets to where my underwear should be and realizes that I’m not wearing any, he groans deep and low. “You’re gonna be the death of me,” he swears.

  I laugh, feeling light and heavy all at once, as I lift my hands to clasp them behind his neck. “But what a sweet death it’ll be,” I promise.

  He shakes his head. “You’re not fucking wrong. Now, put your legs around my waist and take my cock out.”

  Once, I would have hated someone talking to me like that. I would have felt dirty and used, but this is Tax. This is the man that saved me from the brink of darkness. Yanked me back and shoved me into the fire to let me melt. I love it when he touches me. I love the vibrations of his voice against my skin no matter what he’s saying.

  I waste no time in following his orders. I hook one knee around the notch of his hips, and he palms my thighs, helping me by pushing my back firmly against the wall. I release the back of his neck with one hand, letting my fingers find the button and zipper of his black jeans. I pop them open and slowly reach inside. My hand closes over the solid length of him and frees him from the confines of his pants. After a few pumps in my fist, Tax is gritting his teeth and glaring at me.

  “You better stop that shit if you wanna get any action tonight,” he says.

  “I thought you were the one who couldn’t wait for the action,” I tease. When he merely continues glaring at me, I laugh and slowly guide him towards my center.

  I’ve never laughed as much as I do with him. I’ve never felt as free as I do with him. Tax’s cock slips through my core, and when he thrusts, both of my hands return to the back of his neck and hold on for dear life. Every time feels like it’s something new. He slams into me in one go, his cock filling me like nothing else before. Gasps leave my lips, coming in spurts. Sometimes, I can breathe. Sometimes, I can’t. But every time I can feel and that’s the best gift of all.

  When Tax touches me, he lights me on fire. My skin vibrates with electricity as he kisses his way down the side of my neck. “Pull your shirt up,” he begs. “I wanna see you touch those pretty nipples for me, Lovely.”

  I love it when he says my nickname. He’s the only one to call me that. “I’ll do it if you take your shirt off,” I offer.

  Tax grunts and rips his chest away from me. It is only by the grace of God—and his lower body grinding me against the wall—that keeps me up as he lifts his black t-shirt and tosses it to the floor. He comes back with a raised brow. “Well?” he prods as I reach for him and tighten my grip. “Are you gonna pinch those sweet nipples for me or what?”

  I do as he asks, pulling my shirt up and yanking my bra up with it. I slowly release my hold on Tax as he leans back, still pumping in and out of me. The new angle sends him a little deeper in me, and I cry out as the base of his cock brushes against my clit.

  “Lovely,” he says through gritted teeth, gaze flashing like dark rolling wildfire.

  My fingers latch onto my nipples – squeezing, pinching, rolling them. Tax’s eyes eat me up. I groan as his cock continues to hit that place inside that makes everything light up.

  “I love you,” he whispers, dropping down closer. His mouth hovers over mine while I pinch my nipples. I let my tongue sneak out and lap against his lower lip.

  “Fuck!” Tax turns his head to the side and unleashes himself. I let go of my nipples and hold on for dear life. He pounds into me, our thighs crashing together with a resounding beat that echoes around the room. When I come, I scream, my voice rising over Tax’s low groan of relief as he stills against me.

  Our skin is sweaty and slick with our actions. I love it. I love him. I grip his face, holding it between my palms as I pull him up for another deep, twining kiss. His cock – previously spent – twitches inside me.

  “Baby, you gotta stop that
, or I’ll never make it out of here.”

  “You were the one who said you couldn’t wait anymore,” I remind him again, smiling.

  “I didn’t exactly expect you to show up in that skirt,” he defends as he backs away, letting me regain my feet. “Nor did I expect you not to be wearing underwear. You better hope no one else fucking sees that or I’ll rip their eyeballs out of their skulls.”

  I reach for some napkins left on the sink in lieu of actual paper towels and use them to clean myself up as Tax tucks his cock back into his pants and zips up. Soon enough, we won’t be doing it in the bathroom of dive bars – but in giant backstages and vans and dressing rooms. I couldn’t care less where we are, just that we can be together, but it’s good that his career is taking off. As long as it makes him happy.

  “Was it at least a good surprise?” I ask as we wash our hands and then Tax props open the door for me to leave first.

  He snags my hand on the way back to the stage, and leans down to kiss my cheek. “The best,” he says, “as long as no one else knows.”

  I sigh into his mouth. “I save all my secrets for you.”

  “Promise?”

  I look up into his midnight eyes, the stormy seas there never to be tamed, but to be ridden rough and hard until one finally reaches the shores on the other side. “Always.”

  Afterword

  Expressionate was written in the lonely quiet of a college dorm room four years ago at the peak of a very challenging year. I had overcome a difficult situation at home, but despite that, I found myself dating the wrong person and picking up innumerable bad habits.

  When the story of Love and Tax came to me so suddenly and with such intense passion, it consumed my daily life. In many ways, Love led me away from many bad decisions. Love became my friend and confidante as much as she became the mirrored image of myself as I struggled with my depression.

  Many people have asked me if it was difficult to write her story. But I dare say that Love’s story was the easiest for me to write. I always knew I would want to publish Expressionate one day and finally that day is here. And it’s time from to convey its message.

  Suicide is a terrifying concept. Often times, those who contemplate suicide feel as if there is no other option. They feel all alone and left in the dark. But they are not alone. There are hundreds of millions of people in this world that feel the same way. The only reason those people can’t be seen is because they, too, are in the dark. It is my hope and wish that more people will be kind enough to leave on the lights so that they can find their way back home.

  Because Expressionate and the content of this book is so close to my heart, I have decided to donate a percentage of the proceeds from Expressionate to a few charities that help support suicide prevention and those with depression. So, thank you for purchasing Expressionate and lending a hand to those that need it.

  Note from the Author

  I’ve put together some resources for any one who suffers from various mental health illnesses, depression, or thoughts of suicide. These resources are for those in various countries including the United States, Australia, and the United Kingdom. If you are not in any of these countries, please see the link at the end of the list. It is a link to a number of international suicide prevention hotlines. Please don’t hesitate to reach out when you need it.

  National Alliance on Mental Illness 1-800-950-NAMI (1-800-950-6264).

  Anxiety and Depression Association of America 1-240-485-1001.

  National Institute of Mental Health 1-866-615-6464.

  American Psychological Association 1-800-374-2721.

  American Psychiatric Association 1-703-907-7300.

  American Foundation for Suicide Prevention 1-800-273-TALK (1-800-273-8255).

  Depression and Bipolar Support Alliance 1-800-826-3632.

  Families for Depression Awareness 1-781-890-0220.

  To Write Love on Her Arms 1-800-273-TALK (1-800-273-8255).

  BeyondBlue 1300-22-4636 (Australia)

  Black Dog Institute 1300-659-467 (Australia)

  Mensline 1300-789-978 (Australia)

  Headspace National Youth Mental Health Foundation 1800-650-890 (Australia)

  Samaritans 116-123 (UK)

  Papyrus (for those under 35) 0800-068-41-41 (UK)

  The Silver Line 0800-470-80-90 (UK)

  For anyone outside these counties, please see the link below.

  http://ibpf.org/resource

  About the Author

  Lucy Smoke is an indie author that focuses on romance of many genres - including, but not limited to, reverse harem, science fiction, fantasy, contemporary, dark romance, and new adult romance.

  She lives in the Carolina region of the United States in relative simplicity with her dog, Hiro, and a plethora of stuffed penguins.

  Only in her wildest fantasies did she ever truly think she would become an author. But now that her wildest fantasies have been brought to life, she endeavors to come up with more stories that satisfy her increasing need to put tears in people’s eyes and her name on their shelves.

  To learn more, you can visit any of the social media outlets in search of her name or visit her website at www.lucysmoke.com

  Also by Lucy Smoke

  Sky Cities Series

  Heart of Tartarus

  Shadow of Deception (Coming Soon)

  Iris Boys Series

  Now or Never

  Power & Choice

  Leap of Faith

  Winthrope Five Series

  Study Break

  Tough Break

  Nerys Newblood Series

  Daimon

  Necrosis (Coming Soon)