by CORY CYR
“Honest to God, this is going to be over fast, because when you fuck me with your mouth, I can’t hold back. I don’t want to.” Shea’s voice was raspy as I took him all the way in.
I stopped fisting him long enough to run my hands up and down over his thighs again, causing his cock to swell in my mouth. My hands left his thighs as I sucked him in more deeply. He began to thrust into my mouth as his breathing became quick and shallow. His hands began to tighten in my hair a little more forcefully. I was so aroused I barely felt him tug and pull at my hair. His actions were ones of passion, not aggression. I opened my throat so I could take him all the way in, using my saliva as lubricant.
“Sweet motherfucker, fuck . . .” Shea let loose with an orgasm that nearly choked me. As I took it all, he continued to pump into my mouth. When his thrusts finally began to subside, I pulled back slightly and licked the corner of my lips. I now ached and throbbed with need, feeling slick with desire.
“Baby, oh baby, what you do to me,” Shea crooned as he looked down at me. “I swear your mouth should be bronzed—it’s that good.” He reached down and hooked his arms under mine to lift me to my feet. I stood there, delirious from his taste, and then he toed off his boots and stripped off his pants. He was still hard and his cock jutted outward in defiance. I loved seeing his body, and every time I looked at him, I found something else that inspired me. He slowly walked upstairs to my bedroom and returned with a quilt and pillows, tossing them in front of the fireplace. He then pulled his sweater over his head and stood there, completely naked. Sweet holy mother, this man was too much. His physical presence consumed me with lust, but his passionate love for me, and the desire that burned in his eyes, devoured me whole. The shadows from the fire danced across his tribal tattoos, leaving me almost breathless. Shea crossed his arms, and his blue eyes settled on me as delicious warmth moved into my core. As he unfolded his arms, he moved towards me, his hand lingered at the top edge of my bustier, causing my breasts to swell and my nipples to go erect. He pulled the bustier down far enough to expose both breasts.
“Beautiful,” Shea whispered, as he bent his head to trace his tongue around my nipple. I leaned into him, my hand lingering on his cock. He took one nipple into his mouth, and began suckling it. My body tingled with anticipation as his mouth left one breast and went to the other. As he sucked and licked, I heard noises coming from the back of his throat. I reached up and grabbed one his hands, guiding it to the zipper on my skirt.
“Anxious, are we?” he quipped as he tugged the zipper down. Once he got it down, he had to use some force to pull off the skirt. Damn pencil skirt. As it finally fell to the floor, I stepped out of it and stood there in my drenched thong, bustier and five-inch ankle boots.
“I better fuck you right now, because I’d rather come inside you than outside,” he joked, as his blue eyes penetrated my green eyes. “Everything off but the boots—I want you to keep those babies on.” I unhooked the bustier, and once undone it fell to the floor, right next to my skirt. I started to pull down my thong but Shea stopped me.
“I can smell your desire, and I can see how wet you are for me. God, Ryan, what you do to me.” His fingers latched onto the sides of my thong and he pulled them down. When my panties got to my ankles, he stopped and trailed a finger along the wetness of my cleft, then popped that finger into his mouth.
“Shea,” I rasped as I closed my eyes. He pushed in another finger and tweaked my clit softly. It felt swollen and ready, and I really needed release. He ran his hand a long my wetness, testing my readiness, then gathered me up into his arms. He laid me in front of the fire as he peppered me with kisses everywhere. I reached down to feel him, and he felt heavy and thick in my hand. I couldn’t wait until he was inside of me.
“Shea, please,” I said, pleading.” He immediately flipped me over and swatted me on the ass. The sting caught me by surprise, as did the pleasure that coursed through me.
“On all fours, baby,” he said, in a quiet yet authoritative tone. As I got up on my knees, he put a pillow under my elbows and knees. “Don’t want any rug burns on that perfect skin.” We had done quite a few positions, including ones where he took me from behind, but he’d never asked for me to be on all fours. My face flushed with a need so great, and it felt like my juices were running down my thighs. I got into the position, excitement flowing through my body. From my boots to my hairline, I felt hyper aware. I wanted this—I wanted him.
I sensed him behind me; he began by pressing a kiss to my lower back and then stroked my mound with his fingers. I heard him grunt in approval, and then the head of his cock prodded my entrance as he pushed himself in just enough to wet the crown, which he brushed against my clit. I couldn’t hold back my groan—it felt so amazing. He teased his cock up and down sliding it along the outer lips of my pussy, soaking himself with my arousal. I felt like I was going to die if I didn’t get relief.
“Enough, Shea, fuck me,” I demanded as I pushed backward into his cock.
“Jesus, Ryan, when you say it like that, I want to fuck you in every position ever thought of, and create new ones. We could add to the Kama Sutra. You have no idea how sexy you look right now, all opened and bared to me.” I felt his fingers as they dug into my ass and his cock slipped into me. A rush of heat flushed my face as I pushed backwards, trying to impale myself on him.
“Don’t help, baby, stay still and let me do all the work. If you move, I won’t be able to last. I wish you could see how my cock is sliding in and out of you right now.” His tone was adamant, in control. I did what he asked, even though it was almost painful not to push back as Shea ground into me, making the friction delicious. I could have come right then, but I held it back because I loved the feeling when we climaxed together. His pace picked up and soon he was driving into me with such force that I literally had to bite down on my bottom lip to push back my release.
“Shea . . . please let me come.” The sound of my voice must have broken his resolve because his arms snaked around my waist and he pushed me back into him. My body began to hum as a slow vibration crept up my spine. My head sagged downward as my body responded and pushed me right over sanity’s edge into a glorious climax, exploding into a mass of convulsions that left me shuddering and drained. Shea erupted inside me, filling me with so much of his seed that I felt it running down my legs. We stayed like that for several minutes, not speaking, fulfilled and sated. I felt a sense of intense loss and emptiness as he pulled out. I could live with him inside of me forever.
“Ryan, baby, I love you,” he said, as he laid me on my back and stretched out beside me. I stayed there for a few minutes, basking in post-orgasmic bliss, and then I got up to go to the bathroom. I quickly wet a washcloth and wiped myself clean, then took a second washcloth back into the living room. I sat beside Shea on the floor and began wiping his thighs clean and passing it over his cock, cleaning up any residual cum.
“Hey, I’m supposed to do that for you,” he murmured, touching my hand that held the cloth.
“I don’t mind, I want to. This should be an equal opportunity relationship.”
Shea sat up, took my face in both hands, and turned my eyes towards his. “Is this a relationship? Are we truly together, or am I going to wake up one day and you’ll be gone?’’ I could hear the unease in his voice.
Was this the moment when I should just tell him about Garrison? Was I willing to take the chance that he’d forgive me for not telling him? I needed to be with this man. He grounded me, and I’m fairly sure he’s keeping me sane. I had so many issues back in New York, and even here, I was hiding the truth, but I had managed to push out my unhappiness with Garrison by focusing on Shea. Was I being fair to Shea? I was a wannabe actress, married to an abusive asshole, and the type of woman who basically ignored her only family and let her father die alone. Maybe he really was too good for me; if he actually knew who I was, I doubted he’d want me. Guilt was suffocating me. The deception was strangling me. But I was too weak to
walk away.
“I’ll stay as long as you want me, Shea,” I promised, pressing my head to his chest.
“Then we’ll be together forever,” he vowed, cocooning me in his arms and holding onto me for dear life.
Chapter TWENTY-TWO
I decided to wait until Shea went to classes Monday night before calling to schedule my talk with Trina. We needed to clear the air. She needed to know that I knew the truth about her dad, that Shea had told me everything. I was anxious to find out if she had kept any other secrets from me. I loved her and I wanted her in my life, but I needed honesty between us. I knew she didn’t really owe me any explanations, and that if she kept secrets it was because she had chosen to; in reality, she didn’t owe it to me to tell me her life’s story. But the facts were clear: Shea loved me, and Trina was my best friend, my confidant, and I needed not only her honesty but also her council. She was the only person I could share my fears and desires with, especially since the fears centered on her brother. We decided to meet up at Shea’s apartment on Tuesday night. I had to go over there at 6:00 p.m. to feed Pandora, and he would be in class until 9:00 p.m.
Trina showed up a little before six, and her attitude was less than jovial.
“Want something to drink? Beer, wine?” I asked, as she began taking off her coat. I had started a fire in the fireplace since I had planned to stay over. I took her coat and motioned for her to sit on the sofa.
“Sure . . . wine, I guess,” Trina replied, undoing her scarf. I walked into the kitchen and grabbed some wine and glasses. I filled both glasses and handed one to her. I sat down at the other end of the sofa. Pandora decided to make herself at home on my lap.
Trina snorted, “I see Pandora knows you. I guess that means you really are with my brother.” I saw something else in Trina’s face. I could have sworn it was a look of disapproval, but maybe it was just concern for her brother.
“I thought you were okay with it, Trina. I mean, you kind of pushed us together.” I paused, taking a sip of my wine. “Did you hope it would be a one-time thing? Because it was you who told me how much Shea loved me. Did you honestly think he’d fuck me and let me go?”
Trina looked over at me with tired eyes. I could tell by her body language that she was not anticipating our talk.
“I’m happy for you both . . . really. Honestly, I never thought that far ahead. Andrew is young and well you’re . . . you. I didn’t think it would get to this point.” Trina set her glass down and swiped her hands through her hair. “I don’t know what I thought. As long as you guys are happy, it’s really none of my business,” she said. Her voice sounded exhausted. I had no idea what suddenly brought on her change of mind in regards to Shea and me. Something felt off here.
“Trina, Shea told me everything,” I said. I let Trina sit there and stew for a few minutes, wondering what I meant when I said everything. “He told me the truth about your father and what he did to him. You know what, Trina? You never owed me jack shit. Even though we have been friends for years, I never expected you to pour out your guts to me. I just thought we’d always be the kind of best friends who confided in each. When it comes down to it, what happens in YOUR life is none of my business, unless you want it to be. But you put Shea and me together without telling me the full extent of what happened to him, and that pisses me off. Obviously, you didn’t feel that you could trust me enough to tell me about it. I guess now I’m wondering if you left out other things I should know. You even kept my dad’s illness from—”
Trina bolted off the sofa, her face flushed with anger. “Just wait a damn minute . . . you didn’t want to know about your dad. I tried several times to talk to you about him when he was first diagnosed in March, and every time you evaded the subject. Yeah, maybe I should have been more forthcoming, but at that point, no one actually knew how serious your dad’s heart issues were, and you always seemed to be in such dire straits about Garrison, so I didn’t know what to do. Frankly, I never thought you’d actually come home, no matter what I said.”
“You said my dad was sick, but you didn’t tell me he was dying,” I snapped, my fist clenched by my sides.
“Ryan, I didn’t know he was dying and, frankly, you didn’t want to know. You were so wrapped up in your own personal misery. Tell the truth . . . you never asked me how serious it was, not really, because you didn’t really want to know.”
“We’re friends, best friends! It was your responsibility to tell me everything. Fuck, Trina,” I yelled, slamming my glass down on the coffee table. Trina got up and grabbed her coat. She turned towards me, pain etched across her face.
“You’re right, it was my responsibility. So, you know what I did? I played the part of a dutiful pseudo-daughter, and my family made sure your father didn’t die alone.”
At that moment, I felt like I’d been sucker punched in the gut. I had no idea how much animosity Trina held against me. I felt rage from her words, but it was almost sidelined by the guilt I felt. Trina was right—I hadn’t pressed her for any pertinent information regarding my dad. Whenever she called, it was always about me. Our conversations had always been centered on what was going on in my life. Even in this conversation, it appeared to be all about what a shitty individual I was, and Trina had managed to bypass the entire conversation about what I had learned from Shea. I got up right to her face as I spoke. For some unknown reason I wanted to gouge Trina emotionally.
“Your father mutilated Shea! How could you never tell me that? If I had ever really known how bad it was, Trina, I swear I would have come back. Hell, I would have probably never left. You needed me and I ran away. When I think about it, I wasn’t that good of a friend, so maybe I didn’t deserve you telling me the truth.”
“I never wanted you to know,” Trina whispered, then broke down, sobbing. I suddenly felt like a bitch and the worse friend in the world. My emotions were at their peak right now, my body was shaking, and I wasn’t sure what to say.
“I can’t believe Andrew told you. We made a pact—he promised,” Trina shook her head and wiped her nose on her sleeve. I leaned over and handed her a box of tissues.
“I think he got caught up in the moment. We had sex, Trina. You didn’t think I’d figure it out? When I found out the reasons behind his tattoos, I kind of lost it. He probably didn’t mean to tell me everything, it just happened, and if you thought we’d really be together, then you would have had to have known that I would have eventually found out, because he couldn’t have hidden his scars from me forever.” I scooted Trina’s wine glass back over to her. “I’m sure you’ve told Quinn.”
“No, Andrew and I made a pact. No one but us, and my mom, would ever know, but I’m convinced she’s completely blocked out what happened to Andrew.” Trina winced and picked up her wine glass.
“Wait, just you three, and you never told Quinn? But you tell him everything.” I watched as Trina took a sip and shook her head. I was floored that she hadn’t confided in Quinn.
“The day it all happened, my mom was unconscious for hours. My dad had hurt her so bad we had to put her in a place, kind of like an institution. Andrew was hospitalized for over a week due to severe blood loss and trauma, and I hadn’t even met Quinn yet, so no, he doesn’t know.”
The same cold chill ran through me, remembering the story Shea had told. Tears started to prickle my eyes.
“At some point you need to talk to Quinn about this. How in the hell could you have kept this from him after all these years? He loves you, and I think you could use his strength to help you what you’ve had to go through. It makes me very sad that you weren’t able to confide in me. You needed someone to help you cope with all of with this; it doesn’t matter if it happened years ago, because I hear the pain in your voice. Promise me you’ll talk to Quinn.”
Trina put her glass back down and blew her nose. “I had come over that day to check in on my mom and Andrew because my father’s behavior and abuse had escalated in the prior months. My brother had tried to protect
my mom, and he got in a few hits before he passed out. He hurt my father badly, and there was so much blood . . . from all three of them.” Trina choked back a sob. “Oh God, there was so much blood I thought they were all dead, and it wasn’t until I called 9-1-1 that Andrew started coming around.” Trina’s body squirmed around the sofa as she reached for her glass again, and when taking a sip she studied my face. “You have to understand, about my mom back then . . . she just checked out. They had her medicated for weeks while she recovered physically, but I don’t think she ever recovered mentally . . . not really.” Trina shook her head. “When your dad got sick, it actually gave my mom some kind of purpose. She and your dad were close. He was a good friend to her and never judged her. Since he’s passed, she’s really gone now; I honestly believe she’s beyond help.”
“Explain to me why you never told Quinn,” I said gently. Trina’s body shifted again.