by Jackson, Meg
On Thursday, when we both happened to have the next day off, I splurged and bought an 18-pack of Bud from the gas station, and two frozen pizzas. It was hellish trying to lug it all back to the trailer, but it was going to be worth it even if I slipped on the ice again. When I finally made it back, huffing and puffing and cursing myself for being so out of shape, I made myself busy cleaning up.
Usually, our days off we both cleaned, listening to music and trying to have fun doing it. This way, he could relax the next day and nurse the hangover that I could only hope would result from a night of drinking and reconciling. When I heard the telltale creak of the screen door, my heart nearly dropped out of my chest. What if he just breezed past me with that scowl on his face?
“Have a beer,” I blurted out before he even fully made it through the door. His eyebrows raised nearly to his hairline, but the smile he gave me, something that seemed to escape before he could call it back, gave me a vote of confidence. “Please.”
The smile faded slightly. He studied me, as though I were laying out some trap. I bit my lip and shrugged, trying to show my innocence.
“Well,” he finally said, letting go of the door and stepping into the trailer. “If you insist.”
Three hours later, we’d completely demolished one of the frozen pizzas and Trigger had put away almost half the 18-pack. I was lagging far behind, my lower tolerance making me giddy after only three drinks.
He’d been regaling me with a story from the week that had gone by since we’d spoken, some slightly slurred and disjointed tale of wingnuts gone awry. As always, his telling of the tale was funnier than the story itself; he had a way of animating everything he said, using voices that perfectly mocked his coworkers and customers, and overblown hand gestures that seemed to build upon themselves in a symphony.
I was fairly rolling on the floor with laughter, and he seemed more relaxed than he’d been in months. When the story came to an end and I was through with my fit of giggles, the silence between us was comfortable.
“Do you remember,” I said, feeling the bubbly tipsiness of the beer in my cheeks, “when I was tutoring you and that librarian kept walking by our table dropping things? And looking at us?”
“Oh yeah,” Trigger said with a smile. “Like she was the god damn purity police. I half expected her to get out a ruler and measure the distance between us. God, what a fucking bitch.”
“I know,” I said. “Like…there was no chance of anything happening, I don’t know what she was thinking. We were in the damn library, for gods sakes! Not doing whippets in the bathroom at a school dance!”
Trigger laughed, but the sound seemed almost to fade as his eyes fell on me.
“Why wouldn’t anything have happened?” he asked, cocking his head to the side. “I bet students get busy in the stacks all the time. I sure as hell would have….”
As his voice trailed off and he blushed, his eyes fell to the can of beer. He brought it to his lips and guzzled quickly, gulping with fervor. My voice caught in my throat, but I recovered quickly.
“Yeah, I guess so. I meant more, like, you and me…we weren’t exactly in the same league, you know?”
Oh, I thought, flushing red. That was not how this conversation was supposed to go…
Well, it was as good a time as any, I supposed, to address the fact that I knew he could do better than me, and wouldn’t hold it against him when he did. To my surprise, though, his eyes grew cold and he raised them to me slowly. His fist seemed to close tighter on the can. My heart thudded heavily.
“Yeah, I guess not,” he said with a sneer. I felt tear prick at the backs of my eyes from the mere way he said it, the look he was giving me enough to turn a person to stone. “Kinda hurts to hear it though, Cass.”
Oh fuck, I’ve fucked it all up now, I’ve…wait…
Puzzled, I hid my eyes from his and quickly took a swill of my own beer. It turned out to be the last swill in the can, and I set it off to the side with an empty clatter.
“I…okay, sorry? I just mean…you know…I don’t…I don’t think…I don’t think the thing…the things you do for me, you know, I know you’re just being nice. A friend. I know…I know you want…what kind of girl…I know it’s not…oh, I’m sorry, just forget I ever said it,” I said, my thoughts jumbling together, ricocheting off each other aimlessly. Something about what he’d said didn’t make any sense, but I chalked it up to the beer.
“Fuck, Cass, just dig the knife in deeper, why don’t you? What kind of girl do I want? Some moron, right? Some moron like me who’ll start popping out kids as soon as she finds a man who doesn’t want to just throw her away? A meth head? A pill addict? That the kind of girl you think I want?” His anger was getting the better of him again; it was just like the time I’d accidentally walked naked right in front of him, or when I hadn’t stopped moving around on the couch. The change was instantaneous, scary…except under all that rage was one thing that I couldn’t fault him for: frustration.
“No, I mean, you know…someone….beautiful and…good enough…for you,” I said, nearly mumbling, wishing I hadn’t drank so much that I wasn’t making myself understood. If I was just better at talking, if I didn’t always put things in the worst way, if I wasn’t so damn awkward and weird and…
He laughed. Short and hard, he laughed. And I blushed, tears ready to escape at any moment. He’s laughing at you, I thought. Of course he is, why shouldn’t he? Doesn’t the whole world laugh at you? Don’t you deserve to be laughed at?
“You’re the smartest idiot I ever fucking met, Cass,” he finally said, the words hitting like bullets against my brain. I pressed my palms against my eyes, willing my lower lip to stop trembling.
“You don’t have to be cruel,” I whispered, rising to my feet, ready to run bawling to my room like a middle schooler who got turned down at the dance. As I made to leave, though, I felt his hand, warm and strong, around my arm.
“Neither do you,” he growled. “You know perfectly damn well you’re the best I could ever fucking hope for, so don’t act like you’re doing me some favor right now.”
I croaked. Literally, like a frog, all I could do was croak. My hands dropped away from my face and I turned to him, now oblivious to the tears streaming down my face. His eyes weren’t angry anymore. They were something else entirely.
“Why,” he asked, voice even but gravelly, “are you the one crying?”
I couldn’t answer, my eyes trapped in his, our faces locked, my jaw wired shut with confusion and shame and – radiating from where his hand clutched my arm – desire.
“You don’t even fucking know, do you?” he finally said. “You don’t have any fucking clue how much I want you?”
His grip on my arm hardened. He licked his lips, seeming thirsty, and the way he looked at me…he seemed thirsty for me. But I couldn’t believe it, couldn’t force myself to accept that this Greek god could want to have anything to do with me…
Before I could form my thoughts into words, he was on his feet.
“I can’t help it Cass,” he said, his voice all ember. “I can’t fucking help it anymore.”
“What are you…”
The words were swallowed up as Trigger pulled me to him violently, grabbing the back of my head again, his lips landing on mine, hungry and demanding. The smell of his cologne drifted in thin tendrils up my nostrils as his tongue opened my lips, tickling the roof of my mouth, demanding my own tongue to respond, sucking it in until I was moaning.
I could feel, against my stomach, through his sweatpants, his hardness, the massiveness of him like an arrow against my belly. And then, without warning, I was airborne, Trigger’s arms lifting me by my thighs as he carried me through the trailer to his room.
I clutched him around the neck to keep from falling. His mouth never left my flesh, devouring my cheeks and neck and throat. I felt like my entire body was on fire, the tips of my fingers and toes tingling with electricity. When he threw me down on the bed, the cheap
mattress bounced.
Before I could call them back, my hands were on his shirt, pulling upwards, revealing his chiseled torso. And then I was kissing it, feeling the heat of him beneath my lips, my ego erased in desire and pleasure like I’d never felt before. I wasn’t Cass anymore; I was something else, some wild beast, an animal in heat, the scent of him pulling me closer and closer to some uncharted island of ecstasy.
His hands fell to my shoulders and he pushed me back onto the bed with a growl.
“I’m going to take you now,” he said, covering my body with his, hands coming to cup my breasts through my dress. He growled again, as through frustrated, and in a single lithe movement had pulled my dress over my head. He yanked down the cups of my bra, revealing my generous chest, nipples hard as rocks already. His hands came to them, kneading, and his head lowered. My heart raced, my slit dampening under his feral gaze.
When his lips closed around one nipple, flicking upward slightly with his tongue, I felt as though I could explode right then and there. I felt his hardness pressing against my panties, his hips moving slowly, rubbing against the bundle of nerves at my center, making my mind spin with heat and need.
“Trigger,” I moaned, and at the sound of my voice his hands on my chest tightened, his mouth suckling harder, his cock sliding against my virgin pussy promising impossible pleasures.
My cunt was so wet that I could feel the lips parting underneath my panties as he rubbed against me. My hands fell to his head, wanting his kiss again, wanting to look into his eyes. I pulled up and he lunged, covering my mouth once more, the new angle making the head of his cock press directly against my clit.
My knees raised automatically, instinctively, thighs wrapping around his waist. He still wore his sweatpants, but I dropped my hands to the waistband and yanked downward until I could feel the whole length of him against my still-covered slit.
His hands moved to my hips, lifting my back slightly. I felt empty. I felt open. I felt a need inside me like I’d never felt before. I’d never had a cock inside me, but I knew it was the only thing that would satisfy this hunger. And Trigger’s cock was so close, so tantalizingly close.
“Wait,” he said, pulling back, though I moaned and pulled at him in protest. “Wait.”
“No,” I said. “I can’t….I don’t want to wait…Trigger, I need you…” I tried to lift myself to my elbows, but he pushed me down, his eyes all business.
“This is your first time,” he said. “It’s going to hurt unless…”
There was a long pause as his eyes travelled down my body. All my self-consciousness had faded, erased in the desire of the moment. He looked at me as though I was the only thing in the world worth looking at.
“Unless?” I asked, struggling against his grip as he kept me pinned down. His eyes drifted back to my face. He smiled, and it was like every dirty thought he’d ever had about me was sent straight to my mind, my spine stiffening with expectation.
“Unless I get you so wet you could drown me,” he said, his voice like warm lava in my ears, making my heart stiffen and quicken, my flesh crawl with delirious pleasure. His free hand suddenly fell to my panties, stroking my slit through the fabric, stopping just below my tender button. His eyes never left mine.
“I’m wet already,” I said, nearly panting.
“Not wet enough,” he said just as he slipped his finger over my clit, making my hips buck and thighs clench. His hand stayed firm on my shoulder, holding me down. I felt his fingers curling around the top of my panties, a blast of cool air as he pulled them down, exposing me entirely. As though testing me, he slid a finger up my slit, just barely entering me, drawing my juices upward to rub against my clit once more.
“Trigger, please,” I moaned. “I don’t know what you’re doing to me, but…”
“Let me do whatever I want to you,” he growled. His eyes were still fixed on mine, the way a lion might look an antelope. “I promise, I’ll never hurt you.”
“I just…oh, Thomas, I need you,” I said, eyes rolling back as his finger traced my slit again, this time pressing slightly deeper. His head lowered to my ear, his mouth coming to nibble slightly on my lobe, making my head thrash in his direction, the sensations in my body driving me to an insatiable place.
“I’m going to fuck you so well, Cass,” he whispered. “You’re going to be mine forever.”
“Yes, Trigger, please,” I moaned as he slid his finger up my slit again, this time pressing even deeper, and then lingering longer on my clit, circling it gently, making it throb and strain for more.
My thighs were clenched tight now, my muscles buzzing with anticipation, my heart pounding. When he lowered his finger again, I could feel the trailing wetness. And as he brought it up to my slit, my hips bucked upwards. His finger hovered just inside me, and his thumb moved to stroke the side of my clit.
“I want you to come for me now, Cass,” he whispered into my ear. “I want to feel you spill your juices over my palm.”
“Yes, Trigger, please,” I repeated. “Please…”
He thrust his finger into me, curling it slightly, at the same moment circling my clit hard with his thumb. My body exploded into tremors, my thighs opening as my hips crashed upwards, my pussy convulsing around his finger and releasing a flood of wetness.
I couldn’t speak, couldn’t think, for a long moment of total bliss, Trigger’s teeth biting gently against the flesh of my neck, the slight pain only making my orgasm more intense. Before it was even over, I felt him roll himself onto me, one hand still pinning me down on the mattress, the other coming to my hip and pressing it down, my thighs wrapping around him again as he thrust into me, hard and fast, the first time any man had entered me, filling me entirely.
“Too much,” I cried out, the sensation overwhelming, pleasure and pain mixing in a delirium. “Oh, God…”
“No,” he growled against my flesh, holding himself deep inside me as the last of my orgasm massaged his cock. “Not enough.”
He thrust into me again, the shooting pain of penetration giving way quickly to a new, deeper hunger. I gasped, my eyes fluttering open, though all I could see was white light. I held onto his buttocks, thighs trapping him tight inside me, the head of his cock spearing downward to a place inside me I’d never known existed.
“I want to fuck you for the rest of my life,” he murmured into my hair, his hips moving now in small thrusts, as though his cock was mining me for some deep and hidden gold, some treasure at the base of my being that only he could uncover.
And with each thrust, my throat released a cry of pleasure, my body so filled with him that I thought if he pulled out I might actually die. He lifted himself slightly, moving his hands to support himself over me, his eyes travelling down my body as he pumped his cock into me again and again.
“You’re so fucking beautiful, Cass,” he growled, his thrusts speeding up, my virgin pussy wet and throbbing for him, sucking him in. “Jesus Christ, I…I…”
His body moved against mine faster with each stroke, his cock spreading me until I thought I might split. Flames fanned my face once more, and I could feel a wave rising inside me again, a tide of bliss that only grew and grew until finally, with a single thrust, he tipped me over the edge, my second climax breaking over me in waves of ecstasy – he held himself deep inside me then, and I felt something warm and wet bursting inside me. My pussy clenched and swallowed him whole, it seemed, each spasm of our bodies synchronized as we gave ourselves to each other, blind and deaf to the entire world except each other’s heartbeat.
After, when I lay with my head nestled into the crook of his shoulder, my hand laid on his gently rising and falling chest, I let my fingers traced the tattoos across his chest. I’d seen them before, briefly, but never let my eyes linger too long for fear of him realizing that I was staring. Now, seeing them from this angle, I moved my mouth against his skin to ask him about them. They were two skulls, each facing a separate direction, one on each of his pecs. When he answ
ered, his voice was low and rough.