by Andrea Joan
Skylar turns to open a drawer. The cheeks of her phenomenally tight ass tease me from the bottom hem of her shorts while she pulls a wine opener out and attempts to open the bottle. But apparently she’s left-handed.
“Hey. Sky, wait,” I command as I slide the glass door open and make my way into the kitchen.
She looks at me and smiles cautiously. “Did you want white wine instead of red or something? I didn’t know what you preferred. Also, I wasn’t sure if you still planned on coming so I just went with red because I knew I would drink it.”
Rounding the corner of the kitchen island, I move right behind her, caging her between me and the counter, my front to her back, or rather my fucking hard-on digging into her back. I hear a sharp intake of breath and she drops her hands to the countertop, the wine opener clinking loudly under her hand.
She’s into this. Into me. I mean, I’m not a complete fucking idiot, I felt her body’s reaction to me earlier in the gym; she was probably ready for me to fuck her against that wall. But I have to admit, after she got a first look at those scars and with my being a total dick to her when I left, I figured her reaction to me would have cooled. But given that she is white knuckling the counter right now and her ass seems to be trying to line up with my cock, I’m going with the assumption that no part of earlier today had a negative effect on her still wanting me. Thank Christ that it doesn’t even seem she’s waiting for an apology because no fucking way is that happening.
I can sense her breathing pick up as I begin to run my fingers slowly down her left arm, trailing them down to her hand where I grab the wine opener out from under her fingers. Her body shivers under my touch, goosebumps now covering her skin, and fuck if I’m not enjoying every response her body is surrendering to me.
“The wine is not the problem, sweetheart,” I tell her. The scent of peaches surrounds me and I’m curious if she tastes as good as she smells. I move my lips right up to her ear, close enough that with a small flick of my tongue I could satisfy my curiosity. “I just wanted to help you get the bottle open. I don’t want you to open that wound up again.”
Once my breath hits her skin she gasps, and I know I need to fucking move before I bend her over this counter and fuck her until she forgets any man that has ever been inside her. Hell, even the thought of someone else having her has my blood raging and that’s not a good thing. It’s why I need to pull back from Skylar, just for a while, until I know she can handle me. Until I know I can handle her. Fucking with feelings isn’t new to me, but it has been absent for years. I don’t know that I’m ready to even take that on.
Move asshole.
Picking up the wine opener in one hand and the bottle in the other, I move to the other side of the island, making sure to keep a safe distance from the evil temptress. I am opening the bottle of wine when she clears her throat and seems to regain her ability to speak, which I already know means I’m in for a nervous earful.
“Well, thank you. Truth be told, I’ve always had a bit of trouble opening a wine bottle. I know it seems so basic but I always end up getting pieces of the cork in the bottle somehow. I…uh…also ordered some pepperoni pizza. Everybody likes pepperoni, right? Anyway, the guy said he would be here in thirty minutes, which was about twenty-five minutes ago so I guess technically he will be here in about five minutes,” she’s speaking so quickly her words start to blend together. I don’t even think she’s remembering to breathe.
“Jesus, Skylar, try and relax.” My pleading voice matches the exact moment the cork pops out of the bottle. “Red wine is fine. Pepperoni pizza is perfect. Calm the hell down before you pass out from lack of oxygen.” I start to pour the wine into the empty glasses. She stares at me defiantly with her hands on her hips not saying a word. It’s actually pretty fucking cute that she seems so pissed.
“I am calm. Well, I was calm, then you came in here and started grinding up on me so I apologize if that threw me off kilter a little. I’m only human.”
This is why I’m always laughing and comfortable around her. Her honesty is so fucking refreshing but sometimes borders on frightening. Most girls giggle or play hard to get around me, but not her. She just flat out says what she is thinking. Most of the time. That’s why it’s so hard to discern her truths from her lies. I know she has already lied to me more than once, I just can’t be sure about what exactly. Or why. And to be fucking honest, I’m not sure I could handle her truths yet so I’ve let them slide.
For now.
That saying, “Ignorance is bliss,” was meant for uncontrollable fuck-ups like me. People that find out the truths and then destroy them.
So for now, the truths, the lies, the sexual desire will all remain locked in some metaphorical vault deep inside until I think I can manage it all without abolishing everything in my path. Including her.
Especially her.
“Let’s just go start this marathon of yours, Sky,” I say as I finish pouring the wine into glasses. She stares me down until I grab our glasses and the bottle and head over to her living room, setting everything down on the ottoman. I take a seat on her L-shaped couch and wait for her to finally join me.
“You certainly are a take charge kind of guy aren’t you, Liam?” She shakes her head and makes her way to the couch, taking a seat close but not too close. She reaches for her wine and takes a large sip, relaxing back into the couch.
“What can I say, baby, it’s my way. Nice pajamas. Not much to them, is there?” I eye her from head to toe, unsure if I am silently chastising or praising her for the choice in clothing, or lack thereof.
She glances down at her chest, shrugs her shoulders, and takes another sip of wine before turning that vixen grin on me. “What can I say, baby, it’s my way.” Reaching for the remote, she starts to hit play on the movie when a loud buzzing vibrates from the house.
“What the hell was that?”
“That was someone at the gate. Pizza guy must be here. I’ll go let him in and grab it.” She shoots up off the couch and I quickly grab her around the waist, pulling her gently back down.
“Liam, what the hell?!” Sky shrieks, those seductive eyes now wide with shock as she scrambles to her knees to steady herself. Now that is a sight I won’t mind remembering. Her on her knees in front of me.
I hear the buzzer again. “I’ll take care of it, Skylar. You can’t parade yourself in front of the pizza guy dressed like that. You’ll give him a heart attack or he’ll take a little too much advantage of the view and then I’ll have to kick his ass.” I turn to walk toward the front door before she starts to think this is up for debate.
“Fine then,” she huffs. “You have to punch pound two-one-two-two into the code box by the front door, and that will open the gate. Wait!” I stop by the door and turn to look at her. “Let me give you some money,” she says as she starts to get up off the couch.
“Hush, Skylar. Sit,” I command, pointing at the couch.
I hope she doesn’t think I can’t afford a damn pizza. That thought causes me to pound the code into the box a little harder than necessary and slam the door with a little more force. I take the ten seconds it takes the pizza guy to drive up the driveway to pull my shit together. I’m sure Skylar didn’t mean anything by that comment, and I have to remember that I’m her employee and not her damn boyfriend, so what does it matter who pays for the fucking pizza?
Some beat up Honda pulls up to me, and a boy probably no older than eighteen gets out of it, pizza in hand.
“Fifteen dollars,” is all he says to me as he slowly looks around me toward the house. “Hey, is it true that Skylar Barrett lives here? Do you think she would come out and sign something for me?”
Unfuckingbelievable.
I snatch a twenty out of my wallet and shove it into the guy’s chest so hard he stumbles back a little and lets the box fall into my grasp. “Get lost,” I warn, my teeth clenching so hard I swear one may have cracked. The kid has enough sense to back up, but he mutters something along the line
s of asshole under his breath as he gets into his car. He’s lucky he’s a kid and I have something better waiting for me inside, otherwise I would take some pleasure in introducing him to an ass kicking into adulthood.
I walk back into the house and make sure to turn every single damn lock on the door and set the alarm the way Winter had shown me earlier. I take a few deep breaths to calm myself so I don’t look like an angry psycho when I get back to her. But when I start to head into the living room, any trace of frustration I had disappears and I’m trying to hide a smile, because there on the couch is Skylar, hugging her legs to her chest and doing her best to scowl at me.
“Are you pouting, sweetheart?” I try my best to hide my amusement as I set the pizza down on the ottoman and sit right next to her. Her anger is so different than my own. Mine makes me seem like some sort of rabid fucking Rottweiler while she is more like an adorable puppy whose favorite toy is being held hostage by its owner. But as soon as you give her the toy back, she wags her tail and jumps around excitedly, any trace of irritation forgotten.
“I’m not pouting. I’m pissed. You didn’t have to pay for it, and I could have handled a pizza delivery guy. It isn’t like this is the first time I’ve ever ordered one for myself,” she says, letting her feet fall to the floor as she straightens her spine and glares at me.
I’m getting the distinct feeling that she hates not being in control. Unfortunately for her, so do I because when I’m not in control, I lose control.
“Do you trust me, Sky?”
“You know I do.”
“Then you have to trust that sometimes I may know better than you. Got me?” I’m not really asking for her approval, just an acknowledgment that she hears what I’m telling her. I take a casual sip of my wine, trying my best to ignore her stubborn stare burning a hole into me.
“No,” she mumbles so quietly I almost don’t hear her. Almost.
“What was that? You’re going to need to speak up, sweetheart.”
Turning toward me so she is looking me directly in the eyes, she lifts her chin and says, “No. I’m not going to admit you know better than me.” Then she does something I was not expecting. She fucking smirks at me. My little hellcat is goading me.
After carefully placing my wine glass down, I throw myself on top of Skylar so she is pinned between me and the couch. She quickly puts her hands to my chest trying to push me off, but I easily snatch up her wrists and begin tickling her ribs with my free hand.
“Admit I know better than you,” I command over her laughter.
“STOP, LIAM! Get off!” Sky laughs uncontrollably, writhing beneath me as I continue my assault, and the more she wiggles her hips against my dick the more I struggle to not pull her shorts down and just fuck her here. This punishment has suddenly and unexpectedly become a self-imposed one.
“I’ll stop if you admit it.” I’ll probably stop the next time she shifts her tits up into my chest, but no need for her to think I’m submitting. I don’t want her thinking she has the upper hand here.
“Okay!” she screams through her laughter and both those sounds mixed together make me smile. And make my cock hard. So I should probably move the fuck off her now, but she hasn’t quite given in to me the way I want.
“Okay, what? Say it, Sky,” I say as my hand moves to the other side of her stomach, making sure to hit every rib I can as I graze and tickle my way from her hipbone to right underneath her breast. I accidentally thrust my erection against her at the same time, because apparently once I start touching a female my cock doesn’t know how to be polite.
“You know better than me.” She doesn’t scream the declaration through her laughter like I expected, but moans it in a breathy release, her lips so close to my mouth that I feel the shiver in her lust-filled voice. Now we both are just staring at each other, as if waiting to see who will be the first to make a move. A real move, one that includes ripping each other’s clothes off and fucking until we have both satiated our primal needs. But I want to be more than just a primal need to Skylar, and I want her to feel like she is more than that for me, and I’m not sure we’re there yet. I launch myself backward to get off of her as quickly as possible without seeming like I’m avoiding her like she’s some kind of virus.
“Now that wasn’t so hard for you to admit, was it?”
Sky snatches up her glass of wine and says, “You’re kind of an asshole. And that wasn’t too hard to admit.”
“I know, baby. It’s my way,” I reach for my glass of wine and throw my arm casually over the back of the couch while she hits play on the movie.
A bottle of wine and three and a half Bill Murray movies later, I find myself in the corner of the couch, Sky tucked into my chest, my arm draped over her body. We—rather, I haven’t talked during the movies, only laughed at the appropriate moments. Skylar, on the other hand, has had something to say during every scene of each of the movies. She spent the first twenty minutes of Caddyshack telling me all about how Bill Murray had no script and made everything up as he went along. The rest of the movies were met with same introspective information almost every half hour. I want to be annoyed by the constant interruptions, but I find myself anticipating the moments when I hear her take a breath before she so animatedly brings up all this behind the scenes information she knows. Her passion is contagious, and instead of feeling aggravated, I find myself jonesing for the next bit of useless knowledge from her. Basically, I’m fucked. The last half hour, though, Sky has been silent, and every few minutes my curiosity gets the best of me and I look down to make sure she hasn’t fallen asleep.
Finally, she breaks the silence. “Can I ask you something, Liam?”
“Of course.”
I do mean that. She can ask me anything, and I wish I was capable of answering anything she is brave enough to ask because I know, especially following this afternoon, she probably has a thousand questions bouncing around in that pretty little head of hers. But I also know me, and the wrong fucking questions will shut me down; it will bring forth hellish memories it took me years of drug abuse, fucking, and drinking whiskey to bury. I don’t touch drugs anymore, and I only drink whiskey on occasion, and I haven’t fucked a girl in almost a week, so the only default mechanism I have now is to be an asshole. Or to fuck her, distracting myself with either her pussy or my rage so I don’t remember.
“The names tattooed on your arm, are they friends of yours?” She begins to caress her fingertips across the tree inked on my arm, paying special attention to the names etched into my skin.
Trevor.
Isabel.
Ali.
Trevor gasping for air, his lungs gurgling. Isabel dead next to him. A man’s hands wrapped around Ali’s throat as she tries to scream.
My heart rate jacks up with every stroke of her fingers across the names, across my scars, and my body stills as I try to mentally block the memories from fucking flooding my brain.
“They were family.” I glance toward the movie, trying to distract myself, but I only have a vague awareness of what’s happening around me because now all I hear is Ali screaming for help over and over, crying out my name, and as Skylar ghosts her fingers across the names I become strangely aroused and so fucking disgusted with myself at the same time. I know it’s wrong to feel so much pleasure attached to something so painful.
“Were?” Realization takes her over; she shifts her body more toward mine and looks up at me with the most innocent, sympathetic brown eyes. No…fuck. Sky’s eyes are blue, not brown.
“Stop! Please. God, it hurts.”
“God, Liam. I’m so sorry. I had no idea. What happened? Were they with you when you were attacked?” She grabs my hand in her soft one and brings it up to her lips, placing a soft kiss on the inside of my rough palm. I can’t take it anymore.
“Christ, Skylar! Just fucking stop with the twenty questions. What the hell did I tell you earlier?!” I yank my arm away from her and she quickly moves to the other end of the couch as if I’ve
burned her. “I told you I didn’t want to fucking talk about this shit!”
The shocked look on her face is enough to wreck me, snapping me back into this moment. I scrub my hand down my face, and I feel the dampness from her tender kiss sear my tortured skin.
“I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.” The softness in her voice rips at my chest because I realize I did this to her. I made her scared. I took away her voice, I put those unshed tears in her eyes.
“Fuck, Sky. Don’t apologize. I’m the one who’s the asshole here.” Without thinking, I reach over and wrap my arms around her slender waist, tucking her into my body, bringing her head to my chest. She stiffens immediately and I hate it. I hate myself. I want so badly to tell her, I want to explain why I am the way I am. That I don’t just have a temper, I have a fucking incurable sickness, but I can’t seem to do it.
I take out her ponytail holder and start to run my fingers through her hair soothingly, both for my benefit and hers. She begins to relax a little more and I try to match my rapid heartbeat to her breathing. “I just don’t have it in me to talk to you about this yet. Not tonight.”
Skylar puts her hand to my chest and lifts her head just enough so she’s looking at me. “When you…I mean, if you ever…never mind.” She immediately rests her head on my chest and stares at the movie like she’s actually paying attention to the damned thing.
Fuck. “Sky.” I place my finger under her chin and tip her gaze upward. “Baby, I meant what I said earlier. You can ask me anything. That blow-up I had, that’s on me, not you. That’s my own bullshit I’m still dealing with and I shouldn’t have taken it out on you the way I did, but I fucking promise I would never hurt you. It would destroy me to think you were too afraid to ask me anything. You got me?”