Skin Deep

by J. M. Stone

  “We bounced from home to home until I was eighteen. I had always taken care of Brandon, so the day I turned eighteen, I packed us both up and we took off on our own. I managed to do well in school through the years, regardless of what was happening around us. I graduated, and I was gonna do everything in my power to make sure Brandon did the same. We lived in a shit hole motel in Timbleton, and I did odd jobs to make money. I had saved enough that we were doing okay, still living in the motel, but we didn’t care, and I decided I was going to get my tattoo. My life was changed that day, and I’ve never looked back.”

  I sat quietly, watching him watch me, but not knowing what to say. In the end, I didn’t say anything, just got up and walked to him, pulling him to his feet and pointing upstairs. He twined his fingers in mine and we walked up the stairs, heading through a door at the end of the hall.

  I pushed him down onto the huge king size bed dominating the room, following him down and laying my body over his, claiming his lips with my own. We both were breathing heavily when I slid to his side and sat up, undressing first myself, and then working on his clothes with his help. After we were both naked, I straddled him, my knees on either side of his hips, positioned myself over the velvety hard length of him, and pushed down, taking him deep inside me.

  I rode him slowly, sliding up and down his hardness, running my hands up his chest, down his arms, entwining our fingers and raising his arms above his head, leaving our hands clasped. I soothed him with my body, my eyes locked onto his, his heat burning me from the inside out.

  Then Luke pulled his hands from mine, grasped my hips hard, and began thrusting up into me, rolling his hips as he did which rubbed the tip of him against that secret place inside of me that made me sit up, throw my head back and fist my hands in my own hair as I slammed myself up and down on him, riding him harder and faster until I shattered, screaming out as I came around the hot, hard length of him pumping into me relentlessly.

  He followed me over, groaning out his release and holding my hips tightly to his, grinding me against him until I came again, shuddering in his arms as I collapsed on his chest. He held me tightly to him, still buried deep in my body, his face in my hair.

  I felt his lips move, but didn’t hear what he said. Bracing my elbows on the mattress beside his head, I raised myself enough to look down into his face.

  “What?” I asked.

  He shook his head slightly before saying, “Thank you.”

  I frowned. “Thank you for what, Luke?”

  “Thank you for just being you. You didn’t stare at me in horror or pity like every other person who’s known my background. I don’t talk about it much, and Brandon doesn’t really talk about it at all. But it is what it is, it made us who we are today. And you just accepted it, but at the same time, you offered me comfort,” he replied. “So, thanks.”

  I didn’t say anything to him, just leaned in and pressed my lips to his softly. I pushed myself up again, intending to slide off of him, but he tightened his arms and said, “Stay.”

  I looked down at him again, intending to call him on being overbearing again, but he just added a whispered, “please,” and I relented. Not that it wasn’t a really easy decision anyway, because quite frankly, I loved the feel of him still inside me.

  We laid like that for a long time, not saying anything, each lost in our own thoughts. After a while, I shifted a little, intending to move to Luke’s side, but the slide of him inside me made my breath catch. Luke heard it and slid against me again. I felt him stretching me as he hardened, completely filling me once again, and I moaned at the fullness.

  Luke pressed his hands to my shoulders, urging me to sit up astride him, and I complied, seating him even deeper in my wet heat. Holding my hips, he sat up until we were face to face, then, completely taking me by surprise, he swung his legs off the edge of the bed and stood, supporting my weight like it was nothing, and still keeping our bodies connected. He turned back to the bed, laying me down on my back at the edge and, leaning back, grasping my ankles where they rested against the back of his thighs and pulling my legs up. Since I am so much shorter than him, my feet rested against his shoulders; he pushed my legs together and crossed my ankles, holding them up against his right shoulder with his hand, his left hand gripping my thigh as he began thrusting deep into me.

  Having my legs so tightly closed around him made me feel every inch of him that much more, his hardness against my softness, grinding against me. Luke quickened his pace, pounding himself inside me over and over, the silence of the room broken only by our heavy breathing and the loud slap of his flesh against mine. I felt the pressure building as I soared higher and higher, coming closer and closer to the sweet edge of satisfaction and hanging there, not quite able to reach that peak that would set me free, send me flying over the edge.

  I whimpered in my throat, my hands coming up to close over my breasts of their own volition, palming them roughly and squeezing before rolling my nipples between my fingers, pinching them hard. The sharp bite of pleasure-pain coursed through me, bringing me even closer to the edge, but still not quite taking me there. I let go of my right breast and slid my hand steadily down my body, but before my fingers could reach their destination, Luke dipped his head, turning it and sinking his teeth into my leg, just above my ankle. I screamed, exploding immediately into a million pieces, my body clenching rhythmically around his, which brought him instantly, pulsing and twitching deep inside as he ground his hips hard into me.

  When the aftershocks faded, Luke pulled out of me and we crawled up to lie on the bed, wrapped in each other’s arms. My legs felt like jello and I was exhausted and energized all at once. Luke ran his hand down my body, slipping his finger between my thighs and playing in the wetness there. Then he froze, his muscles tightening against me.

  “Emma,” Luke said frantically. “I forgot protection. Today and last night! Oh, God, baby I’m so sorry!”

  “Luke, its okay, I promise. I’m on the pill. And if you’re worried about other things, you don’t have to. I haven’t been with anyone in a long time and I’ve always been careful.”

  “I wasn’t worried about that, sugar, but you don’t have to worry about it either. I swear. But, we’re good? I don’t have to go buy stock in Trojan?” Luke grinned down at me, his fingers beginning to slowly circle my clit again, making me buck my hips against his hand.

  “Luke!” I moaned, pressing my thighs together around his hand, stilling his questing fingers.

  Luke smiled softly at me, dipping his head to kiss me before asking, “Too sensitive?”

  I nodded. “Sorry…just need a minute.”

  Both of us jumped then as we heard a door slam downstairs, and Brandon yelled, “Yo, Luke! Hey, bro, you upstairs?” We heard footsteps hit the first stair and begin ascending.

  Luke and I looked at each other, our eyes wide. Ohmigod! Brandon was seriously about to see so much more of me than he bargained for, or, for that matter, more than I’d ever want him to see! I waved my hand frantically at Luke, silently entreating him to do something.

  “I’ll be down in a sec, man!” Luke yelled.

  We both sprang from the bed and got dressed before heading downstairs. My face was flaming, knowing that I was, essentially, doing the walk of shame; something I had avoided for the entirety of my life thus far. I ran my hands nervously through my hair, hoping to tame at least some of the freshly fucked look out of it, but I had a sinking suspicion that I failed miserably.

  We hit the last step and I heard Brandon whistle long and low through his teeth, before he grinned and said, “Well, well, well. What have we got here?”

  I blushed even harder, unable to force any words past my lips. I settled for giving him a small wave as Luke just shook his head at him.

  I tuned both of them out as Brandon began asking Luke questions about the shop and what had happened there last night. Since neither of them were paying attention to me, I wandered through the living room, looking at the fe
w pictures that were hanging intermittently throughout the room. Most of them were of Luke or Brandon bent over someone, working on a tattoo. There were a couple with Luke and Brandon standing in front of the shop with an older man, heavily tattooed, with a grey handlebar mustache and a bald head. I assumed that this was the infamous Lenny.

  On the wall by the downstairs hallway, there were two diplomas hanging there, and beside each was a picture of the boy receiving it. My heart swelled as I read the names neatly typed on the diplomas, Lucas Tyler Crimshaw and Brandon Joel Crimshaw, because I now knew just how hard they had each worked to get them, never letting life stand in their way.

  I looked over my shoulder at them, both of them so mouth-wateringly sexy, and reality began to sink back in. I knew more about Luke now, but it still wasn’t enough. He was so…hot, and I was so…me. We were from two completely different worlds, and he still expected me to just accept his decree that I was his. (I must admit, though, that it did funny, fluttery things to my insides when he said it.)

  Luke glanced over and caught me staring at him, a slow smile spreading across his face, even as he continued speaking to Brandon. Brandon followed his gaze and grinned from ear to ear as he saw the way Luke and I were staring at each other. Interrupting Luke in mid-sentence, Brandon clapped him on the shoulder, nodded once, and took off down the hall.

  Luke turned to watch him go, surprise flitting across his face before he turned to me and shrugged, the smile that had slipped when Brandon walked away returning in full force. He took a step forward, I assume to come to me, but all of a sudden a yellow blur jumped off the couch and stood blocking Luke.

  Luke said, “Not now, Doug.” He stepped to the side to walk around the large animal, but Doug followed, blocking him again. Luke sighed and stepped back to the other side, and Doug followed again. Luke threw his hands up in the air and asked, “What? What the hell is wrong with you, dog?”

  At Luke’s words, Doug sat on his haunches, threw his head back and began howling out all his doggie woes. Apparently there were quite a few of them, because this continued for a good two minutes. When he got out everything he needed to say, he shut his mouth with a snap, and I swear to you, nodded once at Luke, just like Brandon had a few minutes before.

  I lost it, cracking up laughing when Luke just nodded back and said, “Okay. We done?”

  I guessed they were when Doug stood up, sidled close to Luke, and nudged Luke’s thigh with his nose, earning a quick pat from him, before Doug trotted off down the hall in search of Brandon. I heard Luke mutter, “Damn dog!” before he started towards me again.

  Before he got to me, I held up my hand, palm out, saying, “Wait. I…you…just…will you take me home, Luke?” I finished quietly.

  He froze, his eyes becoming shuttered, and then he turned on his heel and headed out to the car. I followed, feeling like a total bitch, knowing that I had hurt him somehow.

  Chapter 9

  Monday proved to be a disaster. Hands down, it had to be the worst day of my life so far. It even topped the Bushzilla incident, and the only thing that topped that was when Calland had snuck about six of his friends into the bathroom where I was showering when I was sixteen. Calland had stood with his back to the curtain, his hand covering his eyes as he ripped the curtain back to reveal a (now hysterically screaming) naked, soapy me to six slobbering, perverted fourteen year old boys. As if that wasn’t enough, I found out later that one of them had snuck his mom’s camcorder over to our house and they had managed to be quiet and still long enough to hold it up over the shower curtain rod without me seeing.

  Imagine my surprise when, during a very nice slideshow put together painstakingly by my mother for my high school graduation party, my senior picture was suddenly replaced with a shaky video of a very naked, soapy me dancing around singing “Man! I Feel Like a Woman” by Shania Twain at the top of my lungs.

  So yeah. Bad day. It started when I didn’t wake up with my alarm. I didn’t really fall asleep until almost four in the morning; I couldn’t get Luke’s face out of my mind, the way he looked at me as I got out of his car and then pulled away without looking back. He hadn’t said a word the whole way, the car filled with tension so thick you could taste it.

  I got to work an hour and a half late. Floyd was standing beside my desk frantically throwing files around. When I walked in, apologizing profusely, he just held up his hand and demanded I find the file he was missing. I couldn’t find it, and he had to go to court without it.

  Then, in an effort to wake myself up, I made a pot of coffee. I carried my cup to my desk and stubbed my toe on the corner, which made me spill coffee all down the front of my favorite white cable knit sweater I had decided to wear that day.

  I managed not to maim myself or anyone else for a while, but at lunchtime, I realized that I had forgotten my purse at home in my mad dash to get to work. Therefore, I had no way to eat lunch because I for damn sure didn’t have time to pack anything that morning. So, stomach growling, I munched on a roll of mints that I had found shoved in the back of my desk drawer.

  The day continued downhill from there, and I’ll just hit the highlights for you. I smashed my finger in the file cabinet drawer, got a paper cut on my thumb, dropped my pen under my desk and hit my head coming back up, misplaced two more files, hung up on another attorney that had called to speak to Floyd (accidentally, I swear!), and dropped a whole box of small paperclips all over the floor and had to crawl around to pick them all up. Not to mention that I keep getting hang up calls all day long. Then, when I went out to my car to leave for the day, I realized I had locked my keys in my car. Since I didn’t have my purse, I didn’t have my cell phone or my wallet. Thank God I had my work keys so I could call my dad to bring my spare car key that I kept at their house just in case. Too bad that I had to wait two hours for him to get there because he was in the middle of something.

  I finally walked in my front door just after seven, but my day of horror didn’t stop there. My heel caught on the edge of the carpet where the tile entryway ended and I pitched forward, my arms wind milling to try and catch my balance. That didn’t work and I went down hard, clipping my cheek high on my cheekbone by my eye on the edge of the coffee table.

  Which is why I was now lying on the floor, half under the coffee table, sobbing uncontrollably. Any why my face hurt so frickin’ bad! After a minute, I got up to check my face because when I put my hand up to wipe my tears away, I realized that it wasn’t all tears running down my face. I ran to the bathroom and looked in the mirror, staring in horror at the small cut in my cheek that was bleeding down my face, now dripping onto my sweater that was already ruined by coffee. A dark bruise was already forming.

  I cleaned myself up, took a hot bath to try to relax, and wrapped myself up in my robe before curling up in the corner of my couch with my cell phone to see if I had any missed calls. I had one from Allie, but no one else. Not that I really expected otherwise.

  I called Allie back to see what she wanted, but also to vent about my day. I wasn’t expecting what I got when she answered.

  “Emma?” Allie asked as she answered the phone.

  “Yeah, Al, sorry I didn’t have my phone on me because I forgot it at home with my purse today. You wouldn’t believe the day I had-”

  “Yeah? You had a bad day? Well so sorry to hear that, Emma, but maybe its your karma. What the hell is wrong with you?” she yelled at me.

  “Allie, what are you talking about? I don’t need you yelling at me after the day I’ve had, that’s for sure, so talk fast before I get pissed!” I hollered at her.

  “Emma, you’re a moron. I ran into Brandon today and he asked what the fuck happened between you and Luke. So that’s what I wanna know! How could you fuck this up already, Em? We had this conversation yesterday, Leah and I both told you to go for it because you’re stupid if you didn’t! He’s told you clearly that he’s into you, but you’re letting Douche Bag Brad effect what could be something good, something right fo
r you!”

  “Allie, you don’t understand,” I started before she interrupted me again.

  “You’re right, Em, I don’t understand. And I think you’re just over thinking everything and letting yourself get in your own way. What happened yesterday after he carted you away?”

  I sighed, knowing that I probably was gonna piss her off even more. “He took me to his house, where he and Brandon live. We talked, he told me about his life, his and Brandon’s. He opened up to me and we…you know…twice…and then Brandon came home. They were just standing there, just so out of my league and I just…I’m a bitch.” There was no way around it. Luke had opened up to me and I had pushed him away.

  “God, Allie, what am I gonna do?” I moaned. “I don’t know why I panicked, but I did. He was just standing there and all I kept thinking about was douche bag, and I don’t want to go through that again! I’m stupid, I’m a moron…I’m a bitch,” I said, repeating myself from earlier.

  Allie didn’t mince words, either. “Yeah, Emma, you are. So fix it. Brandon told me that Luke has been in a foul mood since he got back from taking you home yesterday. He said that Luke hasn’t ever pursued any woman in his life. They’ve always flung themselves at him, but he’s never been one to let anyone in. Somehow you’ve gotten under his skin, so fix it. Now, Emma.” And then she hung up on me.

  I stared at my phone for a minute, torn. I decided to take the coward’s way out and send a text to Luke, rather than call.

  Hey. Its Emma. Can we talk for a minute? I hit send.

  And got an immediate reply. Busy. Sorry. Maybe tomorrow.

  Tears welled up in my eyes, silently coursing down my cheeks. I felt awful. I slowly got up off the couch and went to bed, hoping tomorrow would be a better day.

  The week dragged by, and I was getting tired of the horrified and pitying looks I kept getting from everyone. I had one lady that came in for an appointment with Floyd, took one look at my face, ran around behind the counter and grabbed me up in her arms. She kept hugging me and crying, squeezing me tight while chanting, “He’s not worth it, honey. Get out now, baby, please, please!” That was awkward.