Her cheeks heat up. “No, that isn’t what I … damn it. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it to come out like that.”
A small smile lifts the corner of my lip, and it feels foreign. “Good. But, no matter what is going on in my life, I will want everything about you, physical or otherwise. I guess I’ve just been a little preoccupied, and if you don’t know this about our relationship, then I’ve really fucked up.”
“Brazen, no, I’m sorry. You came in here for me, and I’m only making things more difficult—”
I cut her off with a kiss. I can’t listen to her apologize for my bullshit.
I hold the kiss until she relaxes under me, and then I pull back. “Turn over.”
My voice is firm, and Noah listens well. Hastily, I tear her clothes from her body, and she lets out a startled gasp.
When she’s naked, I run my hands down her spine and lean down to whisper in her ear, “Let me take care of you.”
My hands push against her muscles, and I rub and stroke every inch of her back until she is moaning into the pillow. Then, I kiss along her flesh in the wake of my hands and try to keep my hard-on away from her.
“Thank you for being you and for everything you do for me.” I clearly make my gratitude known. “I love you, Noah.”
“I love you, too,” she chokes the words out through her emotions.
With my hands on her, I’m reminded that it has been some time since we’ve been intimate, and after all the miscommunication during this conversation, I want her to understand that this isn’t just about sex. I need her. I crave her and because I want to reconnect in every way I know how. It isn’t about obligation. It’s about love.
I rise from the bed, stand to remove my shorts, and grab a condom. Noah lifts her head and starts to turn over.
“Don’t move,” I tell her with a smirk.
She watches me with the side of her face against the bed and a grin that matches my own on her lips. I return to her after I’m free of clothing and suited with protection.
I pin her arms behind her back, and she cautiously looks over her shoulder at me.
“Trust me,” I beg.
She softens, allowing me to hold her wrists.
“Keep your hands still.”
I release her so that I can touch her elsewhere. Everywhere.
My eyes worship her body as I spread her legs further apart. She lets herself be vulnerable to me, and that’s exactly how I want her today. I want to demolish any barriers or preconceived notions. I want her to truly know she’s mine, that she can trust me, and that I’ll always be here for her. With my hands on her ass, I lean down to taste her sweet pussy.
Her arousal lingers on my lips as I continue to speak through our personal moment, hammering home my point, “Being able to taste you is something I’ll never take advantage of.” I lick her until her ass is squirming against my nose. “Every second I get with you is a gift.”
Firmly, I suck on her tender flesh and swirl my tongue like it’s performing a dance. Her clit swells in my mouth, and her wetness slides down my throat. Her moans drive me insane. Noah always tries to quiet her passion, but when she lets go, it’s something she can’t control. The moment when she cries out, really pushes the sound from her lungs, a sense of satisfaction takes over me. I lick Noah long past the point of her coming in my mouth. I’ve missed the taste of her orgasm, and I don’t want to move from between her legs. There is no rush for us.
“That was incredible,” Noah says.
But I’m not done.
I kiss from her clit to her tight hole toward the back, and surprisingly, she doesn’t tense. I keep going and kiss from her wrists, which are still pinned behind her back, to her shoulder. My tongue sneaks out against her neck, and I press my weight against hers. She purrs, and I feel it in her pulse against my lips.
“You’re mine to take care of. I am yours to have certainty in. Let me push you, Noah.”
“Anything, Brazen. Give me all of your intensity.”
Turmoil has ruled our lives lately. Stress and devastation have taken over our world. In the middle of all that, once I pulled my head out of my ass, Noah and I experience one of our more intimate erotic moments.
“I will always take care of you. Every time I touch you, trust that your pleasure and safety are in my mind. Every day we spend together, have faith that I want what’s best for you. We all have faults, but my purpose in life is your protection—heart, mind, and body. You come before anything, Noah.”
My lips leave her skin, and I lift to take my place behind her once more. My fingers graze across the curves of her ass, and I line my cock up with her opening. With just enough pressure, I grab on to her wrists and pull her arms closer to my waist while I push inside her. Her insides grip my cock, causing us both to call out.
“I’m going to be rough with you because I think we both need the release. Because I want you to know that, no matter how our love is being shown, it’s the only thing I’m sure of. Because I want you to trust me in every position and with everything we share.” I keep my hips motionless as I speak to her.
My heart beats a mile a minute as I prolong the pleasure we share between us. The muscles in her ass flex as she waits for me to move.
“I believe. I trust. I love you!” Her fingers wrap around my wrist, and she squeezes.
I push on.
My hips roll against her.
With one hand, I use her pinned arms for leverage.
I thrust up and can’t get enough of being inside her.
Grunts fall from my lips as the cheeks of her ass move with my motion.
My pace builds until I’m slamming against her. I let go, leaving her arms behind her back but bring my own to her ass. I spread her cheeks open so that I can better see our connection. I press down on her hips and angle her to me so that I can go deeper. My cock steadily slides in and out of her, and every motion engulfs my mind. I push into her wetness, and her arousal drips thick between us.
“I love you, too, Noah.”
She shakes below me as her pussy clamps down on my dick. Her fingers scrape against the skin of her own back. My hands harshly palm her ass. Her feet kick against the bed behind me, and she chants cries of euphoria mixed with my name. As Noah finds her climax, I reach my own. Together, we find the bliss between us.
High.
Elevated.
Soaring.
When Noah’s tremors and whimpers subside, I push in and out of her a few more times before I collapse beside her. I pull her toward me, kissing her lips with so much heat that it scorches my lungs, and she sighs against my lips.
“How could something so raw be so personal?” she asks me.
“It isn’t how our bodies move; it’s that our bodies are together. Any way we come together should be inherently intrinsic.” I push the stray hairs from her face. “We’ve been through a lot lately. We both know it, and it has taken its toll. I’m still in pain, part of me might always be, but that never means you aren’t important.”
“I know that, Brazen. I promise, I do.”
I’m going to have to remember to thank my mom for the tough love. She definitely saw things that I couldn’t through my grief.
“So, how do you want to spend the rest of our day?”
Whatever she wants, it’s hers.
“I want to stay in bed with you,” she tells me. “Will you tell me a story about you and Sunday? Something happy, a good memory of your friend.”
I have an arsenal to choose from because we did everything together. Even though I miss my friend, the thought of talking about Sunday to Noah doesn’t feel hard. It actually feels like an amazing way to spend the afternoon.
Brazen
Sixteen Years Old
“Are you going to stand up on the board or just lie there and fry all day?” After a few falls into the water, my elbows rest on my own board, and I kick through the water, nearing my lazy companion.
“You were the one who wanted to go surfing. I�
��m just here for your amusement.” Sunday sits up and throws her legs into the warm water, giving me a smug look. She hasn’t even attempted to ride a wave since we swam out here.
“Why did I even buy you the board?” I pull myself up and use the safety ropes to tie our boards together.
“I don’t know. Why did you?” She cups water into her hand and dampens her sun-kissed skin.
I feign helpfulness and splash water up at her. I laugh. She doesn’t.
“You’re the one who went on and on about wanting to learn to surf. I listen to you. Do you listen to yourself?”
“I say a lot of things, and I probably mean less than half of them. Especially when it comes to stuff like this.” She splashes water back my way.
“You’re impossible.” I shake my head.
“Impossibly brilliant,” she boasts.
“Impossibly irritating,” I correct.
I lie back on my board and join Sunday in sunbathing.
“Do you think we’ll still spend days like this when we’re out of high school and old?”
I crack my eyes open and look over to find her looking back at me. “Has the heat gone to your head? What has you all sentimental?”
“Don’t you ever think about it? What life will be like when third period isn’t the most important event of the day?”
This is about more than third period.
“I guess, yeah, but what has you thinking about it now?”
She slides off her board and into the water before resurfacing and pulling herself up onto mine. I shift to give her room, and she settles herself cross-legged in front of me, looking entirely too serious.
“My parents have been pressuring me about Saint Leo.” The Catholic university her parents have selected for her.
Sunday has never said it outright, but I know she doesn’t want to go to college there. Yeah, we’re sixteen, but they treat her more like she’s six, and if she doesn’t stand up to them, that isn’t ever going to change.
“Sunday, you need to–”
“I don’t want to talk about that. I just want to talk about what you think our lives will be like when adulthood comes calling. How do you see it?”
I’ll play along. “I’m going to own my own business,” I state, effectively enabling her tendency to push away the things she doesn’t want to talk about.
“Doing what? Are you going to be a professional beach bum?”
With my hands on either side of the board, I rock us enough to scare Sunday into thinking we’ll capsize. She shrieks, and I laugh.
“No, you mouthy brat. I don’t know what I want to do, but I want to work with my hands, and I want to be the boss. What do you want to do?”
“I want to be your boss.” Her smile is cocky as she teases.
“You can’t. You don’t listen to yourself or to me, huh? I just told you I was going to be my own boss. You can be my partner though.”
We could be bosses together.
“You want me to be your partner in the mysterious business you’re going to own but don’t know what you’re going to do or how you’ll make money? Sounds like a solid life plan for me. We’ll be rich.”
She rolls her eyes, but I can see she likes the idea of building something with me.
“We’re sixteen; we don’t have to have it all figured out yet. We have years to make mistakes and figure it out.”
Sunday grows quiet and looks down into the blue water. “You have years. You have the option to make mistakes. I have parents who are constantly breathing down my neck about perfection.”
“They put too much pressure on you.” These words couldn’t be truer. In fact, they are a total understatement.
Sunday’s parents do more than just put pressure on her. They are critical and harsh and demand nothing less than excellence in all parts of her life.
She looks up, and her expression turns to stone. “I’m never going to be like them, Braze. My kids are going to eat ice cream for breakfast, and I’m going to support all of their dreams.”
I don’t doubt that—at least the second part. Sunday will be a great mom some day.
“They’ll be lucky to have you as a mom despite the unhealthy nature of their eating habits, and they’ll be even more fortunate because they’ll have the most amazing uncle in the world.”
“You think you’ll still be my best friend by the time I’m popping out kids? Forget you! I’m going to marry the man of my dreams and leave you to fiddle around with your hands while you call yourself boss.”
Rock. Rock. Tip.
This time, I really flip us into the water. I close my mouth and sink below the surface. A foot jams into my ribs, and the salt water goes up my nose. I’m cracking up by the time I get to the surface.
“You are such an asshole.”
Sunday is swimming fast toward me, and I plunge under the surface and kick hard to escape her retaliation.
“Get back here, or I’m going to convince your wife to name your firstborn child Hashtag.”
“Hashtag Hale. I don’t hate it. Thanks!”
I kick harder through the water as Sunday gets closer. She disappears under the surface, and a second later, she latches on to my leg and yanks, pulling me under with her.
We wrestle back and forth like siblings. Each of us is an only child, so we’re the closest each other has to brother and sister. We don’t even notice our boards have started to drift away. It isn’t like Sunday was using it effectively anyway.
We spend our day where most Florida kids do on the weekend—under the sun, on the beach, and in the water. Our dreams for the future are laid out in theory. We plan a life that can’t be predicted or sculpted however. Life happens, and most of the time, we have no say in the outside forces that will affect us. But we can choose the people in our lives, and I’m certain Sunday will always be part of mine.
Noah
“We are not naming our kid Hashtag,” I protest.
I laugh, but something much more serious stirs in Brazen.
“Our kid?”
“Yeah, I mean, you want kids, don’t you?” I’m not going to take it back or act as if it was a slip of the tongue.
Children are nowhere near my immediate future, but I can see my life with Brazen, and there are kids. Our children. So, there is no reason for me to pretend like I don’t see those things. I’m confident enough in the man Brazen is to know that my statement won’t scare him.
“With you, I want it all, especially a little Hashtag.” His fingers skim under my breast.
I giggle from his touch and his playfulness. “Is Hashtag a name for a boy or a girl?”
“It’s unisex, which means we can name them all Hashtag and differentiate them by their middle names. A family of Hashtags.” He kisses my stomach as if there is already something for us to be planning for. Make no mistake, there is not.
“Like, Hashtag Oldest Hale, Hashtag Middle Hale, and Hashtag Baby Hale?” The idea sounds so ridiculous as it comes from my mouth. Never happening.
“Exactly.”
“Those children will hate you when they go to elementary school.”
Kids are mean, and despite the plethora of celebrity-style names, a kid named Hashtag would totally get a wedgie on the playground.
It feels good to joke around with Brazen and spend some time with him, but we both freeze when we hear his front door slam open and close.
“Brazen! Get out here!” his mom yells, sounding far too frantic for us to ignore her.
Brazen jumps from the bed, as do I, and we throw on clothes. We can’t get to Beth fast enough, and once we round the corner into the living room, we find her standing, watching the television.
“They found him,” she says.
Police are escorting a man into the station. He looks messy and disheveled, which is nothing like I pictured Matt to look like. Right before he enters the building, he looks directly into the camera, and chills cover my flesh. I look over at Brazen, and tears race down his cheeks. I t
ake his hand while we listen to the report.
“A man suspected of killing his estranged wife was apprehended today. Sunday Olson went missing over a week ago, and her body was found a few hours later. Authorities have been unable to track down Matt Norman until today when his girlfriend, Stephanie Clark, came forward with information on his whereabouts.”
Brazen drops to his knees and hits the floor. Not sure if he feels relief or if the reality of everything is hitting him, I move to comfort him, throwing my arms around his shoulders and pulling him close.
“They got him,” he sobs.
“They did. They found him.” I rub his back, and he leans into me.
“I didn’t think they would actually find him,” Brazen admits.
“Oh, sweetie, we were all worried.” Beth watches her son and cries as well.
Tears soak the front of my shirt as I hold Brazen. I whisper words of comfort and tell him how much I love him. This moment is emotional, but seeing Matt apprehended is exactly what we all needed. It’s what Sunday deserves—for her killer to be caught. She deserves to have the man who stole her future, her hopes, and her dreams to be behind bars. Brazen breaks down, and it demolishes my heart. His mom stands helpless to the side. The news story plays out in the background. His frame shakes, and he bellows out in woe.
“She’s gone. She’s really gone. He killed her.” Brazen’s torment fills the room.
There is nothing I can say. There are no words that can bring someone back to life.
There is a lot of sadness in an orphanage. So, I’ve seen a lot of struggles. After depression swallows people whole, I’ve watched them disappear into themselves and lose everything that made them who they were. My mother chose a man over me. I met caretakers whose job it was to nurture and saw them do nothing but neglect. Sunday lived in constant fear of a monster. In short, I’ve seen a lot of ugly parts of the world.
But death is a whole different monster.
I’ve never faced losing someone like this, and after watching Brazen, I’m not sure that time, love, or justice could ever really completely heal his pain.
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