Bite & Release

by CORY CYR

  I leaned into his chest, the soft fabric of his sweater caressing my face.

  “I don’t think I’ve ever known love, not true love, until you, Shea. You’re it for me too,” I declared as his arms embraced me, locking me into him. He pressed a kiss to my head.

  “No more hiding, I promise,” I reassured him as he pulled me tighter. He tipped my chin up to look at him, and his eyes caught mine as I stared.

  “Best birthday ever,” he whispered, as his tongue slipped between my lips, as he kissed me with a force that said I belonged to him.

  We broke our embrace just as I heard a knock. Flashing Shea a grin, I patted my hair and ensured it was still in place as I went to answer the door to let Trina, Quinn and Evie inside.

  “The place looks lovely,” Evie stated while they all took off their coats. Trina’s eyes met mine and I knew what she wanted to see. We got Evie situated on the sofa and I had Quinn and Shea serving up glasses of eggnog as we snuck off to the bathroom.

  “Let me see it . . . I can’t wait! How does it look? Did it hurt?” Trina asked, her eyes big like saucers, as I closed the bathroom door.

  “Calm down, Trina—they’ll hear you. I thought you said that getting a tattoo was marring my body,” I huffed.

  “Yeah, well, you went ahead and did it anyway, and now I want to see it.”

  I pushed the dress down over my breasts and pulled out my left arm. The look on Trina’s face was priceless.

  “Holy crap, that’s amazing,” Trina exclaimed appreciatively as she gently ran her fingers over it. She pulled away quickly, with a horrified look on her face.

  “Those are the scabs you’re feeling. Within two weeks, they’ll be gone,” I said, as I pulled my dress back up.

  “How bad did it hurt?”

  “I won’t lie—it hurt like a bitch while it was being done and there was some throbbing that night, but it’s going to be so worth it because it’s so beautiful.”

  Trina and I linked arms as we strolled back out to the living room. Evie was checking out the decorated tree and the men were talking. We both took a cup of eggnog and sat down to open gifts. Trina and I had bought each other clothes and shoes. I had gotten Evie a hand blown glass angel and Quinn a bottle of cologne.

  “I’m saving your actual birthday present for later,” I whispered to Shea. He looked over at me with a devious, slanted grin on his face. As he opened the gifts I bought him, we all took pictures. He loved his sweaters, pajamas and cologne. He handed me a small box wrapped in gold. As I tore off the pretty, glittery paper, I glimpsed the familiar turquoise box of Tiffany & Co. underneath the Christmas gift-wrap. I felt a lump in my throat, making it hard to swallow, as all eyes were on me. It wasn’t a ring box, thank God—I’m too young to have a heart attack, although heart disease apparently ran in my family. My hands shook as I opened the lid. Nestled inside were platinum diamond star earrings.

  I heard Quinn whistle as I looked up at Shea. Even though there were no words spoken, his eyes said volumes. I passed my fingertips over one of the stars and sucked in a breath.

  “You’ll always be my star,” he murmured and bent to press a kiss to my lips. I heard a gasp before I realized it was Evie. Well, I suppose the cat’s out of the bag. I gazed upward and saw Shea’s family, and my friends, staring at both of us. Shea cleared his throat.

  “Mom, Ryan and I are together—in a relationship,” he said firmly.

  Evie stood up, her eyes bulging dramatically. “Absolutely not! I forbid it, not with her . . . you can’t, it’s wrong . . . so wrong!” She bolted towards the door as Trina jumped up to stop her. I had always feared that telling Shea’s mom was going to be an issue, but I hadn’t planned on this. Evie was red-faced and her fists were tightly clenched as Trina tried to put her coat on her. Trina had a shocked look on her face as she looked over at me, mouthing the word sorry and shrugging her shoulders. It appeared that even she was as taken aback by her mom’s behavior as everyone else. Shea got up and walked over to his mom, putting his hand on her shoulder.

  “What the hell, Mom? I love her. Please be happy for me,” he pleaded. I could hear anguish in his voice. He, too, hadn’t been prepared for this kind of outburst. When Evie looked at her son, it was clear that she was suffering too.

  “You can’t do this, not with her . . . please, Andrew,” she begged, as she opened the front door and stalked to the car.

  “Jesus, Mom, I’m an adult and I can do what I want, but I would have liked your blessing. I thought you liked Ryan,” he yelled after her.

  Trina came over to the sofa and bent down to hug me.

  “I am so sorry. I have no idea what just happened,” Trina said, flabbergasted, as she took both my hands in her supportive grip. “I don’t think she’s been drinking, but who knows, it’s an exhausting job trying to keep up with her moods. She’ll be better tomorrow.” Trina’s face was pale and she looked perplexed.

  I nodded, knowing that Christmas dinner was going to be a repeat event of tonight, and I wasn’t looking forward to it. Quinn moved forward to shake hands with Shea, and then he came to hug me.

  “Sorry tonight turned out this way. It appears her odd behavior is becoming quite a regular thing. Here’s hoping tomorrow is better,” Quinn said, as he released me and put on his coat. Since the night had been cut short, I told Trina I would bring Shea’s birthday cake tomorrow.

  “I don’t give a damn about my fucking birthday. I just want to know why my mom just had a fucking meltdown over us being together. Maybe I should have listened to you . . . fuck.” I could tell Shea was livid. What a way to spend our first Christmas together, and it pretty much guaranteed we wouldn’t forget it. After we said our goodnights, Shea and I settled on the sofa once more. He was clearly confused by what had happened.

  It wasn’t just him—Evie’s outburst freaked me out too. I had envisioned Shea and me telling her about us a hundred times, but I never had thought she’d react like this. I knew she might be hesitant to accept our relationship, but never did I expect her to be so adamantly against it. I felt actual dislike from her tonight, which made no sense since she had always been happy, even affectionate, with me. I didn’t want to dismiss what just happened, but there was no way I was going to let it ruin my plans with Shea. This was our first Christmas together, and I knew what it meant to him.

  “Can we try to salvage what’s left of Christmas Eve? It’s still your birthday for another three and a half hours. Want your birthday gift now?” I intimated, rubbing my hand gently along his thigh. When he looked at me, I saw longing blended with sadness in his eyes; it made my body desperate to show him how much love I felt for him.

  “I’ll be right back,” I said, snatching up the Tiffany box and taking it with me. Shea was still brooding as I ran up the stairs to my bedroom. I was hoping his birthday gift was going to erase the last two hours. I shrugged out of my dress, leaving me in a jade green satin bra with a matching thong. I took down my hair and put on the earrings. The diamonds sparkled as the stars dangled off my ears. As much as I loved them, he needed to know that any gift he bought me I would love, and such a lavish gift wasn’t necessary. I knew that his love was the only gift I wanted or needed. I stood and looked at myself in the full-length mirror. Standing there in nothing but my underwear and stilettos, I stared at the tattoo. It danced across my pale skin like a piece of art, coming alive with each flex of my arm. The anticipation was killing me. I had told him so many times how I loved him, but words now seemed insufficient. I could not think of anything more final than marking my flesh so that he would know I truly belonged to him.

  Chapter TWENTY-SEVEN

  I clicked off the light in my bedroom and walked back downstairs to the living room. Shea had turned off all of the lamps, and the Christmas tree and fireplace provided any remaining light. He had taken off his sweater and shirt as he reclined on the sofa. I moved very slowly towards him, and I could see his eyes were closed. His lips were pressed together and his brow was furrowed
. When I got close enough, I bent down and kissed his lips. His eyes opened slowly and then widened as his gaze travelled from my eyes to my neck and shoulders. He hissed and inhaled deeply, then leaned forward to touch the tattoo, gingerly caressing every single swirl. His body snapped forward as he stood up, his eyes continuing to rake me up and down.

  “Fuck, baby, what did you do?” he asked quietly, his hands never leaving my body as he continued to trace the tattoo.

  “Telling you how much I love you would never be enough,” I confessed, as I pressed my lips to his chest. The thundering beat of his heart, fueled by his rapid breathing, reverberated against my lips.

  “You . . . you put my name on your body,” Shea said, awestruck, as he turned my bicep towards him and looked at the letters of his name.

  “I belong to you, Shea. Tell me this was okay,” I whispered to him as I knelt down, running my tongue around his belly button. He pulled me up as we fell back on the sofa.

  “Oh, Ryan, you have no idea how okay I am with it. Sometimes I feel like all of this is some kind of a mirage, that none of it is real. I am so okay with this . . . like I said before—best birthday ever.” He never took his eyes off of my arm.

  I swiveled my body so I was facing him. I only just began kissing his neck and upper chest, and his cock was already granite hard beneath me. I scooted back far enough to unzip his pants, and my pupils dilated as his length sprang free. I couldn’t wait for foreplay or words of romance, all I wanted was him inside of me. I shoved one side of my thong over to allow enough room for his massive cock, eased myself up and grabbed him with one hand.

  Shea groaned as I touched him. God, I loved how vocal he was with me. I positioned him at my entrance and guided his swollen shaft in. I was so wet with my arousal that my juices coated him thoroughly and he slid in—a perfect fit. I seated myself firmly to the hilt, sighing at the way his cock filled me and then pressed my palms onto his thighs for leverage as I rose and fell on him at will.

  “Holy fuck,” he grunted, and gripped my arms to help propel my body as he rocked his pelvis into me.

  I could feel the friction between us as I slid up and down on his cock. I moved my hands from his thighs and held on to his arms too as I continued to impale myself on him. Shea really couldn’t do much because his pants were holding him hostage, so I did all the work. I could feel his breath laboring in and out on my breasts. I bent my head forward and captured his mouth, letting my tongue trace around the edges. He moaned as I coaxed his mouth open so our tongues could mesh and I could taste him. As I felt his cock swell even more, my core muscles clamped down on him and held him like a vise, causing him to buck wildly. The sensation of my impending climax worked its way up my legs and settled into my core. As I felt Shea’s cock pulsate, my own release slammed into me and I shuddered as the intensity took me over.

  “Damn, baby, I think you sucked my life force out right then,” he said, attempting to catch his breath. “But I’m not done with you yet.”

  His cock roared back to life. Amazed, I looked at him with one eyebrow cocked.

  “Seriously, right away?” I asked, as I moved off of him. He stood up, pushed his pants down to his ankles and kicked them off. He turned and made hasty work of removing my thong, tossing it on the floor with his pants. Shea lay beside me on the sofa, taking my leg and swinging it over his hip. He entered me with one thrust, grunting as he pushed in as far as he could go. We basically fucked our way into Christmas day—it was three in the morning by the time he tired out, while I had actually gone into exhaustion mode at midnight. Sometime around one, he had carried me upstairs to bed, and every time I thought we had finished, he started again. At this rate, I hoped I could walk on Christmas Day.

  *****

  Christmas morning, I woke up exhausted and sore. Shea’s side of the bed was cold, which meant my little energizer bunny had been up for hours. The sound of my bedroom door startled me as it flew open, but the vision in the doorway charmed me immediately.

  He walked in, wearing the black satin pajama pants I bought him for Christmas, balancing a tray of food with one hand and a glass of orange juice in the other. My heart swelled with love for this incredible man.

  “Merry Christmas, baby,” he said, grinning broadly. He put down the tray next to the bed and handed me the glass of orange juice. “It’s actually a Mimosa. I made a pitcher of them since, for some unknown reason, we never got around to drinking the champagne I bought for last night,” he explained as he slipped into bed with me.

  I took a sip and set the glass down on the nightstand. I realized I was still in my bra, and somehow had managed to don some black boy shorts. I must have been on a sex high last night because I didn’t remember putting underwear back on. I turned on my side to face him and trailed my finger along his chest and over his arms. He mimicked my gesture and traced my tattoo with his finger, from my shoulder to my bicep.

  “You know, I was almost going to get pierced down there,” I mentioned as I pointed towards my panties.

  “I don’t think I’d want you to alter that pretty pussy,” Shea responded quickly, as his fingers tapped my thong.

  “Oh, really? I thought you’d be all over me getting some kind of clit ball or ring,” I said, chuckling. He shook his head, as his face filled with laughter.

  “Hell no, just knowing what you went through physically . . . and financially to get tatted, is way more than enough. How is Rory?” Shea asked.

  “He’s good. Took about seven hours, so we had plenty of time to get to know each other,” I said, laughing. Just then, my phone chirped letting me know I had a text message. It was from Trina, and after I read it, I put the phone down, sighing as I flopped back down onto the bed.

  “What’s wrong?” he demanded, his expression darkening. I sat up, combing my hair with my fingers.

  “It’s your mom. I guess she doesn’t want us—me—to come to Christmas dinner,”

  “What the fuck?” Shea shot up out of the bed, knocking over the entire tray of his thoughtfully made breakfast.

  “Baby, don’t worry about it. You go to your mom’s and we’ll have the evening. It’s no big deal.”

  “Bull shit, and fuck that. There is no way I am leaving you on Christmas Day . . . no way,” he ground out, his nostrils flared with fury.

  I got up and walked over to clean up the mess on the floor—it was either that or let Shea see how much this conflict with his mother had affected me.

  “Leave it,” he said. I looked at Shea and I could see a vein pulsing in his neck. He was really pissed. “I don’t know get it. My mom likes you. What the fuck? Well, that’s it . . . I’m not going!” he thundered as he ripped his cell phone off of the nightstand. He called Trina and retreated to the bathroom when she answered the phone. His voice got loud, then quiet, then loud again, and now they were arguing.

  Wonderful—I brought joy to everyone. I so hated the holidays. Merry fucking Christmas.

  Ten minutes later, he came out of the bathroom and sat on the bed as he tossed the cell phone back on the nightstand.

  “Trina is going to bring us Christmas dinner,” he announced, and put his hand up to stop me from interrupting. “I’m not going, and that’s final. Where I go, you go. You’re my family, Ryan—you’re my life.”

  Shea decided to run out and get donuts since he had destroyed our breakfast. While the coffee was brewing, I went back upstairs to clean up the mess in the bedroom. I was dumbfounded as to why Evie was so adamant about Shea and me not being together. This didn’t make any sense. Was it the age difference, or the fact that I used to babysit him? Maybe she just didn’t like me. Of course, with Evie’s drinking, nothing had to make sense. I had seen firsthand what alcohol abuse could do to a person while I was living in New York. Whatever the reason, it cast a dark shadow on our relationship. No matter how much I loved him, maybe all these obstacles were a sign that we didn’t belong together. I rubbed my arm, trailing my fingers over my tattoo, blinking back tears. Ho
w were we going to get through this? This was just another reason or excuse for me not to tell him about Garrison. That truth right now would push him over the edge, and I had no doubt that confession would crush him and destroy us.

  He returned with a dozen assorted donuts, festively decorated ones at that. Neither of us felt very Christmassy at the moment. Our first Christmas together hadn’t turned out the way Shea had hoped. He changed back into his pajama bottoms and threw on a black sweater. We ate donuts and drank our coffee in silence, watching the Christmas tree lights twinkle.

  I had dressed in jeans and a sweater, and I still wore my new earrings, hoping that if he saw me wearing them, it would put a smile on his face. I hated so much discord between us, and I just wanted him happy.

  “I love my earrings,” I said, tapping my finger on one. His put his arm around me and pulled me closer. Tucking a stray hair behind my ear, he tilted his lips down towards mine to kiss me. He tasted of powdered sugar and coffee, and I licked my lips in approval.

  “I’m glad you like them. I wanted to get you something really special for our first Christmas,” he said, as he sighed heavily. “It sure didn’t turn out the way I had wanted it to.”

  I patted his thigh. “We’ll just remember the highlights, okay?” I said, touching his cheek to comfort him.

  “You gave me an unbelievable gift. What you did . . . I still can’t believe it,” Shea remarked as he turned to face me. “I know it’s Christmas day, and maybe we should wait to have this conversation, but since we’re not going to dinner, then this might be a good time to talk.” His voice took on a serious tone. For a moment, I was gripped with worry, and I think he could tell I had worry face.

  “Baby, don’t look so paranoid, it’s nothing bad,” he chuckled. “If anyone should have worry face, it should be me. I’m supposed to be taking care of you. I should have talked to you about all this before now, before you spent a fortune on a tattoo. You’ll be out of a job next week. I know, I know,” he said, holding up his hands in ‘I surrender’ fashion. “You’re not ready to tell me what the deal was in New York, and I get that . . . no, scratch that—I actually don’t get it. We’re together, and you should be able to tell me anything. I won’t deny it doesn’t bother me that you’re keeping that part of your life a big secret. Regardless, you’re not going to have any income . . . so let me take care of you.”