by H. J. Bellus
My hands pound the top of his chest trying to get free.
“Lincoln, you’re days out from your first game. Get up.”
“Do you ever shut up?”
“Lincoln,” I growl in frustration.
“I don’t want to get up. I don’t want to go to the dorms. I want a goodnight kiss that never ends right here in your bed. Now give it to me.”
“You’re impossible.”
“You know you want more.”
Finally giving in, I gently tilt my head down and meet his lips.
“Pizza,” I whisper.
“I love you, Oakley.”
My lips fully cover his and explore every inch of his mouth. His hands roam up and down my back and finally settle on my ass. My hips push down on him without any nudging or coaching from him. The small movement shocks me. I’ve never lain on top of him, and I’m finding my body likes the position very much. Shivers run up my spine as I grind my hips down on him again. I’ve never been this aggressive before. It’s addicting and exhilarating, and my body is screaming to feel Lincoln underneath me again.
“Fuck, I want you, Oakley,” Lincoln growls.
His words only fuel my desire, and my hips quicken their pace.
Right before I feel like falling off a cliff, Lincoln interrupts me, “Do you trust me, Oakley?”
Sitting back up and feeling slightly embarrassed by my very obvious display of enjoyment, I can only manage to nod.
Without another word, he flips me over on my back while lying at my side with his head propped up on his palm.
“I promise I won’t hurt you,” he says placing a kiss on the tip of my nose.
Closing my eyes, I feel Lincoln’s large hand roam down the front of my body, and then hear the sound of my shorts being unbuttoned. When his hand dips below my underwear line, I sit up and gasp.
“I can’t,” I say with streams of tears rolling down my face.
“Do you trust me?” he asks again.
“Yes, but I can’t. I’ve been hurt. Please don’t touch me down there.”
“Oakley, look at me. I’m not going to hurt you and will wait forever for you, but I am not going to hurt you or force you to do anything.”
All the emotion and desire that had built up between us disappear. Wracking sobs appear, and I can’t catch my breath between each gasp for air and panicked thought.
I feel Lincoln pull me up to a sitting position, and instinctively I scramble away, trying to run. I don’t see, feel, or hear Lincoln anymore. I only smell the one who stole everything from me that night in my bedroom. Duane, who broke me with his nasty greed. Now his smell is on me again, making me feel rotten and ruined all over.
“Oakley, I’m not letting go. Look at me,” Lincoln demands.
Noticing Lincoln’s hands on me slows my breathing a tick. Then I feel him grab my palm while his other hand goes straight to my neck, and the memory of that smell slowly starts drifting.
“Come back to me, Oakley.”
I hear his cell phone ring in the background, but he doesn’t let go of me to answer it. He keeps talking to me, repeating the same thing over and over.
“Don’t stop talking, please,” I finally say, noticing my voice sounds weak and distant.
Each time Lincoln tells me I’m okay and he’s here, it brings me a little closer to coming back to him. His voice fills me, his touch is healing, and I need more of it.
Finally able to speak, I crawl into his lap. Lincoln is sitting in the middle of the bed, and I straddle him in a sitting position, wrapping my arms around his neck and burying my face in his hair. My legs hook around his waist, and I cling to him as tightly as I can.
“I can’t look at you,” I say as more tears flow on his neck.
“I’m sorry. So sorry I pushed you too far. You were just enjoying yourself, and I wanted to do it for you,” he murmurs against my neck.
“It’s not you. It’s all me.”
Lincoln doesn’t say a word; he just holds me. We sit in silence for several moments before he reaches forward, grabs his phone, and dials a number. I know he’s calling his coach. I listen to his side of the conversation.
“Coach Uni, I need one night.”
“I understand. I won’t ask again.”
“I’ll be there at six a.m.”
“Thank you.”
“No, I’m not in trouble. I just need to be here for someone.”
“’Kay, six a.m.”
I feel Lincoln lean forward and toss his phone back down on the nightstand. Again, he doesn’t try to talk, plead, or fix anything. He’s patient, kind, and caring, and keeps his strong arms wrapped around me. Sitting here, secure in his arms, I feel ashamed to have remembered Duane.
With my head still hiding in his neck, I begin to explain. “His name was Duane. My mom’s boyfriend, and he…”
“You don’t have to tell me, Oakley.”
“I do. He raped me when I was in high school. There was nothing I could do to get away. My mom knew what was happening. Fuck, she’s known about every time I’ve been hurt. Remember, the scar on my palm is from another boyfriend placing it on the stovetop to teach me a lesson.”
I feel Lincoln shudder and grip me tighter.
I continue, “The scar across my neck is from my mom directly. She was stoned out of her mind and pushed me down into the coffee table. I had to have twelve stiches. Everyone believed they were all accidents. I was cooking when I shouldn’t have been, or I was running in the house. The whole town knew what was going on, but let it slide. My hair has been short like this forever because I was always sent home for having head lice. I never took driver’s ed, went to dances, or dated. Nothing a normal teen would do. I grew up in filth and ran away on my eighteenth birthday, and ever since then I’ve been running. Running from that filth and those memories. I change my name with every move.”
This time I feel his tears leak down my shoulder.
“What’s your real name?” he finally asks.
“I left it the day I ran away from home. I don’t have a name.”
“Thank you,” he whispers.
“For telling you how fucked I am?”
“Yes, for sharing with me. Oakley, you have a choice to make. You can keep running, because God knows I’m pushing your limits, or you can stay and be with me. I understand if it hurts too much to stay.”
His words unleash another flood of tears, and this time I can’t compose myself to talk. He’ll let me go because he now understands how much it hurts to be normal and live. I can’t ever be a college student or typical girlfriend.
“Lincoln, you were the first person to stand up for me. That night in the diner is the first time anyone has ever stood up for me when it comes to getting beat down. You were my first kiss out there on that old rickety picnic table. Today was my first ever real date with you. And you’re the only one who knows every single one of my secrets and fears.”
“You’re leaving,” he says sadly.
“I’m telling you I’ve had too many firsts to leave you, but I’m scared to death.”
We both let out a loud sigh and grip each other tighter.
“Can I be honest?” he asks.
His question scares me, and I’m only able to nod.
“I’m not going to stop until I have every single piece of you, Oakley Ann. I’m not going to stop until you feel comfortable with the name you’ve made here. I’m not going to stop worrying about you running in the middle of the night and never seeing you again until I hear you say the words ‘I love you.’ I know what they mean to you and how hard they will be for you to speak to someone. Just know I’m not stopping.”
Silence again takes over.
Lifting his head from my shoulder, I look up at Lincoln, and we drop our foreheads together. Opening his mouth, he gives me the best promise he ever could.
“I’ll give you a name you’ll be proud of, a first and last name that will erase all memories of that girl. Your past will no longer haun
t you with me at your side. I’m all in.”
“I want to try. I’ll be open about how I’m feeling. I’d give anything for you to be my first, Lincoln.”
“Right here and right now, we cement the fact that he wasn’t your first. I will be your first when you’re ready.”
“I want to go to your game.”
“I know, and you’ll go, baby.”
Lincoln lays back, and once again I’m on top of him, but all desire to tear each other apart with passion has vanished. Right now, I feel at home with him, a place where I can be broken if need be, be sad and cry, or crazy happy. He feels like home.
Sliding off to the side of him, I ask, “Will you please stay with me tonight?”
“You bet your sweet ass I will.”
There’s my playful Lincoln. Grabbing his iPod, I turn on shuffle and In Love With a Girl starts playing.
“The perfect song,” Lincoln says into my hair.
He’s in love with me and not ashamed of it, even after hearing the worst parts of my past. Baby steps, I’ll have to use baby steps to get to a place where ‘That Girl’ will not control me anymore. I need his skin on me and to be drenched in his scent to help wash away all specks of insecurities.
Without words, I sit up and slip off my top, and then unlatch my bra and toss both to the ground. Next, I begin to unbutton Lincoln’s shirt. He rises and tosses his to the side as well. We both settle back down. Lincoln is on his back, and I’m nestled into his side. Something about his flesh is soothing, and I’m not sure if it’s the scent, or feel, or a combination of both.
“Pizza,” I sigh.
“I love you, Oakley.”
Those simple four words ease my racing mind and pounding heart. They eventually put me to sleep.
***
Beep, beep, beep, beep.
“Fucking phone,” Lincoln grumbles.
It feels as if I’ve been asleep for only five minutes. The sun shining through the draped window and the time flashing on my alarm clock tell me otherwise.
Beep, beep, beep, beep.
“Fucking phone,” he complains again.
Lincoln has his eyes closed, swearing at his phone and making no attempt to silence his alarm. I’m starting to realize he’s not a morning person at all and loves his sleep as much as he loves his food.
“Lincoln, that’s your alarm.”
“Fuck my alarm,” he replies, rolling over to me engulfing me in his arms.
Beep, beep, beep, beep.
“Lincoln, you need to get moving.”
He growls at my words and buries his head in my neck.
“I want to stay here with you the rest of the day. Fuck school, and fuck my alarm.”
“Well, apparently you have a severe case of the fuck-its.”
In this moment, I realize Lincoln and I are the same as we were before my ugly confession last night. Not a thing has changed except for the fact my heart is lighter.
The sound relentlessly continues, one beep after another. I have no clue how it doesn’t drive him ape shit crazy. Finally, I crawl over the top of him and silence his phone. With my ass propped up on his side and me reaching for his phone, I laughed out loud thinking what a sight this must be.
“Something funny?” he asks.
“Yeah, me beached on top of you, having to silence your alarm.”
Grabbing his phone, I tap the alarm button, and some other screens pop up. I only see her name – Monica. There are words following her name, but the phone burns into my flesh, and I immediately drop it.
Lincoln rolls over to his back, making my belly drop down on to his. Frozen, I can’t move from seeing that name on his phone. I’ve never owned a cell phone or texted, but Jazzy did all the time. I should’ve read what Monica texted. No, it’s none of my business.
Lincoln slaps my ass, snapping me straight back to reality.
“Monica texted you,” I say softly.
“Fucking crazy bitch,” he mutters.
“I’m sorry. I just tried to silence the alarm.”
Lincoln grabs my mid-section and swivels me up to face him. His grumpy morning face is gone, as well as any easy-going Lincoln.
“She’s a crazy fucking bitch. I don’t hate many people, but I do hate her. She’s been on my case ever since she got wind I’m with someone else.”
My gut turns with his words, and the sick, sadistic side of me wants to know why he hates her so badly, but I know it’s his story to tell.
Lincoln finally talks. “Say something.”
“Um, I don’t like her texting my boyfriend.”
The look on his face is priceless. My admitting he’s my boyfriend is definitely a shock.
“I like the sounds of that,” he finally replies.
“Me too, but I love the feel of your skin on mine even more,” I sigh against his lips.
“I really needed that last night. Thank you for giving it to me,” he says.
Our lips meet and I let him take charge. Lincoln flips us over so he’s covering my body and continues to devour my lips. For the first time I let my hands explore his body up and down his long, lean back. My hands settle, gripping his broad shoulders. Our heated tension builds once again as I dig my nails in. My hips bow, trying to meet his middle again. I pull on the top of his shoulder, signaling him to press down harder on me. Lincoln pulls away from my lips, and I nod.
In slow motion, I feel Lincoln sink down onto my hips, and my legs spread for him to settle in. He watches my face as he pushes down against me. The sensation of him between my legs and rubbing against my core is overwhelming. I push more firmly against him, and that’s when I feel his very hard cock push back. I throw my head back and let out a cry of pleasure. Lincoln continues to drive against me. Even though we are both clothed, I can feel him and the pleasure he’s sending through me.
Lincoln’s mouth drops to my exposed neck, biting and nipping at my skin. It causes me to cry out again and buck harder against him.
“Let me take you all the way,” he pleads.
I’m unable to answer him due to the coursing need rampaging throughout my body. My only reaction is to push harder. I feel Lincoln’s hand run down between us, and it’s at the edge of my panties again. I’m safe under his body and clothed in his scent. I’m safe. This is a first, and I want it.
His hand stops before going any further. I send my hand along the same trail his hand had taken, and when I meet his, I urge it to go deeper underneath my panties. His fingers lightly drag across my skin, causing me to gasp. His finger slides into me when I buck up once more to meet him, and then I really cry out. Lincoln covers my mouth with his. His mouth and fingers are working me over like a magician, causing my hands to fly back up to his shoulders and dig in with delight.
The sensation is overwhelming, and I’m about to implode. I’ve never felt anything like this in my life. I can’t catch my breath and have to pull away from his lips to get an ounce of air. With my head tilted to the side, Lincoln bites my exposed neck, sending my whole being sailing off a cliff without a worry in the world. Every tissue within me tingles with euphoria, and I scream as I fall back down to earth.
Lincoln collapses on me.
“That’s what I wanted to give you, baby girl,” he whispers into my ear.
“It was perfect,” I reply breathlessly.
His phone goes off, and it’s the ringtone of Coach Uni.
“Shit, I gotta get this.”
Lincoln climbs out of bed clothed only in his boxers, and grabs his phone while running his fingers through his messy hair. I love his hair all shaggy and ruffled. A ball cap typically hides the beautiful mess.
“I’ll be there in thirty. Thanks, Coach,” he says, hanging up his phone.
“Everything okay?” I ask.
“Perfect,” he replies, standing in front of me.
I notice his very tented boxers and suddenly feel like a piece of shit. I may not know a bunch about sex, but I do know the man isn’t supposed to be left
with a raging erection.
“What about that?” I ask, pointing to his crotch.
“Baby, don’t worry about me. All in time, we’ll get there.”
“Thank you,” I murmur, realizing I can’t quit repeating those two words to him.
“I’m going to jump in the shower. Okay?”
“Okay. Want a bowl of cereal? It’s all I have to offer.”
“Hell yes, I do. I hear you can mix up one hell of a bowl of cereal,” he says, kissing me and heading for the tiny shower.
Like I said, I don’t know much about sexuality and the ways it all can go down, but I do know the man needs to be relieved of pressure, and I’ve heard the shower is a great place. If only I could be a fly on the wall to watch. The thought of Lincoln pleasuring himself and seeing his completely naked body instantly turns me on, and I want his hands all over me again.
Focus, focus on cereal, that is.
Lincoln showers, we share a couple bowls of cereal, and our time is up.
“I’ve have to go.”
“I know,” I sigh.
“Come here,” he says pulling me into his lap, “I’m going to miss you today, but I’ll be over for dinner. I won’t be able to stay the night again, but I’ll be here as long as I can. This week is going to be crazy with our first big game on Saturday.”
“Okay.”
I soak in his words while fiddling with a button on his shirt to avoid making eye contact. I want to be selfish and beg him to stay. The fact is his life is on campus with his teammates and friends, and my life is surviving to make it by working three jobs.
“Oh shit,” I blurt.
“What?”
“I have to work until seven tonight at the diner.”
“My curfew is at ten. I’ll pick you up at work.”
“Okay.”
After a pause, he says, “Quit the diner.”
“What? I can’t.”
“You can,” he insists.
“Maybe,” I reply in a thoughtful tone.
Really, the third job has always been useful to distract me from having so much free time on my hands, and now I’m scrambling for free time to be with him. I just wish he had more free time to match up with mine.