Indisputable

by A. M. Wilson

  His eyes feel like a soft touch as he makes his perusal of my near naked flesh. The bed dips as he climbs back on, straddling my hips. He buries his head in my neck just beneath my ear as his hands slowly stroke my skin upward from hip, ribs, shoulders. Closing my eyes, I sigh.

  “Fucking beautiful,” he says softly into my ear before delivering short, sweet kisses to my neck.

  I’m lost to sensation, the feel of his hands, of his skin on my skin. The world has evaporated away. We are nothing, and we are everything. This bed and the two of us are all that remain to exist in my world. Nothing has every felt more right or perfect than the feel of his body cocooning mine.

  Which would explain why I didn’t realize what he was doing until it was much too late.

  “I want you completely naked for me,” he whispers in my ear, his hands gliding from my shoulders to my wrists. I feel a sensation of coolness near my pulse point, but before I register what it is, Jacoby is running his lips and tongue up my arm, tracing my bicep, dipping into the sensitive skin of my elbow, slowly nipping and sucking his way up my forearm.

  “I’m going to taste every in—,” his sentence ends in a clip of harshly inhaled breathe before his body goes completely tense. So tense I feel like rock has settled on my body.

  “What the fuck is that?” he growls so quietly I almost don’t hear him. I’m trying to break through the lust induced fog, but Jacoby grabs my hands, sits back on his heels and pulls me up sitting before him. I’m met with the view of his soft brown hair when he dips his head to inspect my…

  Oh, fuck. Oh, God. No, no, no. He’s not supposed to see my wrists. He’s never supposed to see that.

  Panic slithers through my body like the vilest of drug. It’s a head to toe sensation. Tremors grab hold of my limbs making my body shake. My head suddenly feels stuffed with cotton; the room spins. I can feel the blood draining out of my face the same time my eyes well with tears.

  “What is this?” he asks again.

  “Jacoby, stop—“

  “I asked, what is this?” He maneuvers my wrists so they’re facing me, but I shut my eyes tightly and shake my head side to side. I don’t need to see it. I know what it is, what it looks like, what it feels like. I don’t need to explain this to anybody, especially not him.

  How could I have let this happen? How could I be so damn stupid?

  “Let me go,” I say in a soft, defeated whisper.

  “Tatum, answer me.”

  “Let me go. Please, Jacoby, let go,” I beg.

  “I need you to look at me, Sweetheart.”

  God, his voice is so soft, so soothing, but it’s an illusion. He’ll never understand the desperate need I feel to release my emotions with the help of the blade. Why I’m not normal and can’t just vent or cry or scream to make myself feel better when feeling becomes too much to bear. Why it feels so good to have control over one thing in my life, even if that control is as twisted as mutilating my own flesh and spilling my own blood.

  “Let me go.” I try to pull free, but he’s stronger than I am.

  “Talk to me.”

  “No, let me go!” My voice rises as the panic crests higher within my chest. It’s consuming me. I’m treading water, barely keeping my head above the surface, and the more he fights me, the more rapidly I’m beginning to drown from my own fear.

  Jacoby leans forward, knocking me back to the bed and pinning my arms on either side of my head. He puts just enough pressure on my arms to hold me still but not enough to hurt. Not that his thoughtfulness matters. I can’t feel anything besides the devouring panic gnawing a hole through my insides.

  “Sweetheart—“

  “Let go! Let go! Please, LET ME GO!” I scream, thrashing my head, twisting my torso, bucking my hips. Anything to throw him off. I need to get out of here. The room is spinning. His voice is coming at me as if he’s standing at the other end of a tunnel, but I can’t make out the words from the blood roaring in my ears. My chest heaves as it searches for the oxygen my lungs desperately need, but there isn’t any. My body is malfunctioning. Drowning in the panic of my own pain and self-loathing. A balloon is swelling in my chest. So tight, so big and heavy, and there’s no more room.

  I can’t breathe.

  I can’t breathe.

  I can’t breathe.

  “Tatum, breathe for me. You can do it, baby, just breathe.”

  And with a hitched sob, the balloon bursts, and my world comes to a crashing halt.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Jacoby

  There hasn’t be a more heart wrenching sight than watching Tatum struggle with her panic and fight for breath. True, having to deal with the knowledge of Harper’s death was the most tragic moment of my life to date, but it’s like that moment and now are on different ends of the spectrum. Harper’s was so final. I heard the news and it was over. There wasn’t anything I could do to change the outcome. I still struggle with the fact she’s gone and my own guilt for her death, but her loss is more a constant, lingering ache in my soul. But watching Tatum scared out of her fucking mind, so much so she can’t even breathe, feels like a knife plunging into my heart repeatedly. It’s fresh and it’s violent, and it’s breaking my damn heart.

  Tatum doesn’t even seem aware of me anymore. Her eyes are clenched tight, and her face is at least three shades paler than her usual color. She keeps whipping her head back and forth, making a sound so similar to a slowly deflating balloon it’s making me stomach roil. I don’t know if I should call 9-1-1 or if she’ll snap out of it, so I do the only thing that feels natural and right.

  I brace her body with my own, burying my face in the curve of her neck. The smell of her hair, of apricots and rain, fills my nose, and the effect is calming. I begin speaking gently in her ear, while inside I’m begging for the fear consuming her to give her back to me.

  “Tatum, breathe for me. You can do it, baby, just breathe.”

  She makes the most horrible, heartbreaking sob before completely dissolving into a puddle of tears. The relief is so complete, I feel my own eyes begin to water. Without a second thought, I tuck her close, one hand cradling her head against my shoulder while the other one begins soothingly stroking up and down her spine.

  “Shh. Hush. It’s alright. I’ve got you.”

  Over and over I repeat the words I think will help her shake off the lingering distress. My heart feels like it’s been shoved through a meat grinder, I can’t imagine what’s going through her head right this moment.

  My head? I feel like a fucking idiot. This was too fast. I was too harsh, too direct. Should have slowed things down but instead, I reacted like a horny teenager who can’t keep it in his pants for all of five minutes. Which draws my attention to the fact she’s still mostly naked. Reaching over her trembling form, I grab the comforter tucked in the end of the bed and give it a hard tug, pulling it up and over the both of us.

  She burrows into my neck as if she’s trying to crawl inside my body to live there. I wish she could. I wish she could crawl inside and build a house, and I could protect her from anything that tries to hurt her. Including herself.

  Tatum’s a cutter. From the looks of it, a pretty frequent one. Why would she harm herself? Is she suicidal? Fuck…I dismiss that thought as quickly as it comes. No way can I lose another one. I can’t go through that again.

  She’s not the attention seeking type. Her hair to her clothes to her personality all say unique. And not in an emo angsty way. Just…Tatum. She’s just Tatum and I know there’s more to her cutting than I can even try to guess.

  “Jacoby?”

  Tatum’s voice rouses me from a doze, and when I crack my eyes open, everything is dark. Her soft, naked body is tucked tightly to my side. Her head rests along the curve of my shoulder, and the sweet smell of her hair is tickling my nose. Even in the dark I don’t miss the way she cradles her wrists against her chest as if to hide or protect them even in sleep. Lifting my head in the direction of my nightstand, I see the cloc
k reads 3:12 in obnoxiously bright red numbers.

  “Yeah, Sweetheart?”

  “Are you awake?” Her voice is hoarse and soft, and the sound makes the steady ache in my chest revive with a vengeance. She sounds like she screamed herself raw.

  Tightening my arm around her shoulders to convey I’m listening, I roll slightly toward her so we’re lying side by side. Even with the nonverbal gesture, I answer her with my own throaty, “Yeah.”

  “I, uh, I’m sorry about, uh you know, and I think it’s probably best if I leave.”

  Her words come as a surprise. But they shouldn’t. Tatum has proven over and over she has an unparalleled ability to pull away and hide when the situation becomes too much. Fuck if I’ll let her get away with it this time. If I get my way she won’t be leaving my sight for the foreseeable future. For the first time in two years I’ve found someone I want. Someone who makes my heart beat just a little bit faster by just being near. Someone who I’m ready to risk my reputation on because she’s worth any possible consequence. For the first time in two years my heart feels a little less like a black hole in my chest.

  To drive my point further, I roll my body until I’m entirely covering her warm soft curves from chest to toes. The darkness is too thick to see her face, but her breath breezes against my lips in a soft, surprised hitch.

  “You’re not going anywhere. Not in the middle of the night, but especially not before we talk,” I growl against her lips before capturing her sweet taste in a lingering kiss. Her chest heaves beneath my own, brushing her breasts against my chest and bringing my full awareness to our state of nakedness. A possessiveness surges inside of me. I want to protect this girl, no matter the cost.

  Her voices releases in a breathy whisper, “I just don’t think this is good for me.”

  “What’s not good for you?”

  “Letting you in,” she replies, a touch of sadness in her voice.

  “What’s not good about someone listening to you?” I lean around her to kiss below her ear.

  “Caring for you.” I kiss her nose.

  “Keeping you safe.” I kiss her eyes.

  “Making love to you.” I kiss her jaw.

  “Making you smile.” I kiss her slightly upturned lips. “You let me in and you’ll get all that plus much, much more.”

  Tatum trembles beneath me. “But how can this work?” she questions and I want to yell at the hopeful feeling pulsating in my chest. But I don’t. Even if I can get her to relax and give this a chance, I know we have a long road ahead of us. I’m trying to give her a reprieve, but the image of her slashed and scarred wrists has been burned into my brain. And it’s no small matter.

  “We’ll take it slow,” I respond before trailing kisses down her jaw. I was talking about more than just the relationship. I’ve reached my limit of sitting still with her naked curves beneath me.

  “You could get fired.”

  “We’ll be discreet,” I whisper into the hollow of her throat before tracing her collarbone with my tongue. Tatum arches beneath me, smashing her breasts more firmly against my chest. The friction of her skin is intoxicating.

  “But what about—“

  “Shh. Close your mind. Don’t think right now. Just feel.” We have all the time in the world to talk about what happened tonight, what’s going to happen in the future. Right now, the only thing I care about is erasing her pain and making her feel good.

  So that’s what we do.

  Tatum’s breaths become gasps and moans in my ear as I move my mouth across her naked body. Licking, tasting, absorbing every part of her my mouth can reach. My movements are soft and unhurried. I want to convey how serious I am about her. About us. I want her to experience every touch without the rush to the finish line. But most of all, I want to show her she can use me. A distraction, a release, an escape, whatever she needs, she can use me instead of the self-harming methods she’s trained herself to use. My body is the shuttle to carry her away from the darkness that lives inside her. And I’ll do everything in my willpower to rocket her straight to the sun.

  A brush, a caress, a whisper of skin and a tangle of limbs. We join together to create a new being. A living, pulsing creature of lust and love and feeling. I move, she reciprocates with perfection. As if she were made for me. As if she’s anticipated my every move and responds with the practiced counterpart of a longtime lover.

  My body hovers above her, naked chest to naked breasts. I shudder as her warmth seeps into my flesh, through my bones, wrapping itself around my heart. Cocooning the organ. Soothing it. My mind screams at me to take and take and take, but I maintain a level of self-control. This isn’t about me, this is about Tatum. So I give. I give with my body, with gentleness and pleasure.

  Skimming down soft curves and heat, my hand slides slowly between her parted thighs. I’m met with the softest skin, like a ripened peach, and heat envelopes my fingers as I slowly sink one finger deep inside. Tatum exhales a breathless moan as her back arches, and her hips slowly rock with my hand. Her sounds tear me to shreds. Everything I thought I knew about sex, about giving and taking pleasure is obliterated by the pleading and moans skating past her lips.

  More

  Please

  Oh, God

  Please

  Licks of pleasure curl up my spine from the base to my neck, and like a hand pressing me down, my back bows to capture one hard, rosy nipple between my lips. I suck hard, twirling the bud with my tongue, and I can sense her impeding climax in the increase of her breaths and the way her body clenches my relentless finger. She’s teetering, but something is holding her back. Lowering myself to an elbow, my other hand begins toying with her breast while I tear my mouth away from the other with a soft pop. I need to get her there. To show her this is the best way.

  “Don’t fight it. Get out of your head. Let yourself feel how good this is, how good we are together,” I whisper into the curve of her neck before biting and licking the delicate skin.

  “I c-can’t. Oh, God,” she cries when I bite down above her collarbone. My intention was to derail her train of thought, but I can feel her body’s reaction to the slight pinch of pain.

  I nip her again. This time below her ear where I whisper, “You can. Feel me, Tatum. Feel this.” I twirl my finger deep inside her, pressing against the inner wall of her sex. She gasps.

  “You’re incredible. We’re incredible. I’ve never felt anything like this before. I need you to come for me, Tatum. Trust me. Let go.”

  She’s fighting. Tensing and shaking, yet rocking her hips against me faster. She wants to come. Her body is greedy with my finger, and half a minute later, I feel her whole body go rock solid before jerking and shattering beneath me. A light sheen of sweat coats her skin, and she’s panting to catch her breath.

  I don’t let her get her wits about her. Positing myself between her legs, I roll on the condom I had left out earlier and place the head of my erection at her slick entrance. My muscles tense and shake with the overwhelming need to slam inside her. To fill her up and beg her to never let me go.

  “Tell me if it’s too much and I’ll stop. But don’t think, Tatum. Feel me. Feel us. Concentrate on how good I make you feel.”

  Slowly, I begin to make little thrusts inside her. Giving her the chance to back away, but praying to God she doesn’t. My senses are on hyper alert, and my self-control is only so strong.

  Tatum whimpers, her hands wrapping around to clench hard at my back. “More.”

  “Hang tight, sweetheart. Focus on me.” Her eyes snap to mine, looking pure black in the darkness, and my control shatters. In one smooth thrust I surge all the way inside, filling her deeply with me.

  She feels like heaven and hell all wrapped into one. I’m tortured with the desire to protect. To save her from herself and her past. Yet, she feels like the sweetest gift life could give. The need to show her she’s worth love is almost too much. I feel undeserving. My own dark past and choices tug at my consciousness, trying to inv
ade the perfection of this moment. I need to take my own advice.

  I focus on Tatum. The soft, hooded look in her eyes. The encouraging flex of her fingers along my spine as I increase my pace, thrusting into her.

  I feel Tatum. The consuming warm heat where we’re connected. Her legs wrapped tightly around my hips.

  I hear Tatum. The soft moans and murmurs urging me on. Her voice, high and needy, when she whispers into the shell of my ear, “I need you, Jacoby.”

  The thread of my world snaps. Gravity is sucked out beneath me, and I’m free falling into the wide open universe. Up, down, left, backward, direction no longer makes sense. I could tumble for days and no longer have a purpose but something is tugging me back. An invisible tether pulling from my chest. Pulling…

  Pulling…

  Pulling…

  To her.

  “I need you so much. Please make me feel good.”

  I’ve found a new anchor. My soul feels like it’s exposed as her words crumble the old Jacoby around me. Nothing matters. My life, my past, my job, the consequences. Fuck. I think I might even love her.

  Taking her mouth in a bruising kiss, I pour every amount of reverence into her. Everything about this woman is driving me to the brink. Losing control, unable to hold back much longer, I reach a hand between our flushed bodies, finding the spot to make her lose control with me. I circle the sensitive nerves above where our bodies are joined, and Tatum gives an involuntary jerk. Slowly, I circle the nerves again picking up the pace with my hips.

  “Come on, Tatum. Give it to me again,” I grit out through clenched teeth. Trying to wait for her. Needing to wait for her.

  “Just like that, Jacoby. More,” she cries as I increase the pressure on her clit.

  She begins to crack, little spasms shoot along my dick as I pound into her. With a long wail, her back arches off the bed, and she shatters once more beneath me. The sensation of her climax steals my breath, taking my orgasm along with hers.

  “Oh, God. Fuck.” I can’t keep the words in my head as a burst of white explodes beneath my eyelids, and I collapse in a breathless heap on top of her.