"I want you Shame." I moaned breathlessly into his ear before licking back down to his collar bone. Leaning back, pressing my groin against his, I let what I wanted tumble from my lips unashamed. "Take me inside baby.".
Shame didn’t pause or ask if I was sure. I said take me and oh fuck yes, he was. My high from earlier was growing stronger and I used it as momentum. I unwrapped my legs from his waist long enough to stand and press against his chest until he was flat on the bed. I pulled my jeans down and then my panties before climbing on top of him and started on his belt working frantically to free his cock. There I was busy trying to get to his dick and I forgot about the rest of him that was just as remarkable. He leaned up while I was working on his belt, and tugged his shirt over his head, exposing the perfect inked skin of his chest. My God, he was so pretty I could cry. I suddenly wanted to slow down and savor him. He rocked his hips up against mine and I remembered I was wanton and heated and this was my man for the taking. I pressed him back and went with his fusing our mouths together in a heated and wet kiss. I had lost my mind to the need. My teeth were biting at his lips, my lips sucking on his. I could not get enough of him. My desire had come back with a vengeance and I was suddenly making up for two years of no Shamus right God damned now.
I reached though his boxers when his jeans were undone, but not off and I didn’t care. I pulled his cock free, and straddled his hips lining him up against me. Before I could get him inside me, he jackknifed up, grabbing my hips and stopping me.
"Are you wet? I'll tear you Sass." That question was answered by the hot wet center of my body as I sat myself upon him. With a curse Shame slammed his head back against the pillow, his fists tightening on my hips, he pressed up against me harder, forcing me to accept all of him and I did so greedily.
"I am always ready for your cock." I said shocking myself and probably him. I rested my hands behind me on his knees and started moving.
He reached up to cup my neck in his hand and tried to pull me into his mouth. I shook my head no and pulled at his wrist until I could see his fingers. I brought his hand to my mouth and slipped his thumb in my mouth and started sucking.
I had no excuse for the highly sexual mood I was in and I didn’t care because it felt amazing and I couldn’t have stopped if I tried. The tips were callused, but smooth, each finger long and I licked them all. Shamus hissed as my wet tongue danced over his only prized body part next to his cock. He loved his hands and they made him millions and now those hands were on me, in me and the thought had me moaning his name. I leaned back again and took his hand into mine, and then the other lacing our fingers together. I used his arms as leverage as I rode him. I was already at the peak and desperate to come, but I needed his eyes with me. "Look at me baby." He said through gritted teeth and part of me melted at his words. He needed me to watch him just as bad.
I looked at him as I rocked faster, harder, feeling everything with amazing clarity. The ring I wore on my middle finger pinching as he squeezed my fingers, his belt buckle and zipper scraping my flesh as I slid to and fro, but most of all I felt him, his cock deep and desperate to erupt. "Together Sass, come with me."
I untangled my fingers from him and gripped his shoulders, pulling him to me so I could latch my mouth to his. He held me tight with one hand and used his other to brace himself against the bed so he could meet my thrusts while I rode him.
"Now, Shame! I'm coming now." I cried out, but I knew he felt me come apart. He was right there with me, thrusting from beneath, letting go at the same time.
I stayed on top of Shamus trying to catch my breath. It had been fast and raw and it still made me feel safe and cherished. I giggled at the sight of us. I was still in my shirt and bra but naked from the hips down. Shame was the opposite, lying beneath me without his shirt and his jeans undone enough to satisfy my craving for him inside of me. I rolled from his body and on to my back and my giggles turned to laughter."That was unbelievable." I said breathlessly once I had my composure.
"You’re unbelievable." Shamus was looking at me with sadness and love. I thought the sex would have eased his mind, I knew he was hurting and I wanted to hide the pain for a while. I knew better than anyone that I couldn’t take it away, but I could help him forget. Whatever was on his mind had him shaking.
“What is it baby?” I ask, tracing my finger along his brow bone.
"Sass I have to tell you something."
I rolled to my side when I heard the serious tone his voice took on. "What’s up?" I couldn’t hide the fear of just hearing him speak those words. Nothing good would ever come from ‘I have to tell you something.’
"I leave tomorrow for New York. Drew and Tayla set the PR tour up and with my dad passing they had to rearrange some of the schedule. I will be home on and off for the next thirteen weeks.” Like a Band-Aidwas the motto of my life so I should have appreciated him getting to the point. I didn’t. This sucked ass, plain and simple.
"Tomorrow..." My voice cracked then trailed off. He was leaving and there hadn’t been enough time. I slid my body closer and curled into him, tears stinging my eyes.
"I'll make this up to you Sass I swear. The next three months and the last two years, I will make it up to you." He rolled to face me before pulling me to him and kissing the tip of my nose. My tears were falling on his chest and I wanted to be strong right now. I wanted to be Carrie and Candey and tell him I would miss him but be waiting. I was selfish and I knew it. I just got him back and I wasn’t ready to send him off to fangirls again.
"What time?”
"We leave at nine tomorrow night."
I sat up on my knees and looked at him. "Can’t you just ask for another week, a few days maybe? I just need a little more time Shame." I brought my hands to my mouth as my tears fell aware I was begging on my knees. Begging was something I swore I would never do, but this was Shame and there were no limits with him. I wanted to be strong and understanding, this was his job and....I had no answers, job or not I couldn’t stand him leaving again.
Shamus reached for my hand and pulled me to him. "Please baby, I can’t do this Sass, please don’t cry."
"I can’t not Shame." I said matter of fact, because the truth was I couldn’t stop. My heart was breaking and it was far worse than when he left me before. Before I could lie and say he did it because it wasn’t meant to be, but now? That logic was long gone and there were no lies, for comfort this time around. Rationally, I knew he had a career, but I was jealous and sad because I had just gotten him back and the world was taking him again.
Shamus rolled me onto my back and slid between my legs, comforting me the only way he could. He kissed me deeply and wiped my tears with his thumbs before sliding into me. Each thrust he kissed me and wiped my tears as I clawed at his back trying to keep him close. I looked at him above me, driving into me. "Please don’t go baby." I cried. He didn’t stop, he just kissed me deeper my heartache obvious.
"You're mine Sassy and that will never change." He spoke against my lips crushing me; driving home more proof of things I’ll miss once again.
I wanted to believe him, but the last time he left, he left one hell of a wake. There was no way I would hang on to him and cherish him like I did before. Maybe I had been too quick to forgive him. Maybe, my missing Jerry, and his return had made things easier, but this bullshit of trying to soften the blow by another long agonizing love session only made me hurt more.
He slowed his thrusts, till they were gentle and slow and I knew he was seeing me separate myself like oil and vinegar. I would take this for what it is and use the moment to memorize every inch of his body, the feel of him inside of me, the way my tears taste bitter when I think of him leaving again. He was all I wanted and I needed to remember him like this right now, above me.
I held him tighter, my heels digging into his back. "You're mine too.” I whispered against his neck, wishing I could take it all back, knowing when he was gone that the memory of him now would annihilate me.
&
nbsp; It was that confession, that moment of doubt that changed everything.
You keep calling and complaining that I just don't care
But would you say that if I was there
It's that picture you keep painting
That's causing your tears
I could set you straight if you were here
Hinder
Chapter Eighteen
Cassa
“Hey babe.” I say and look at Shamus on the Skype screen. We video chat every night he is away. He is sitting in a chair in his hotel room in Dallas. They did a radio giveaway that morning and were heading to Washington the following morning. It was always hardest to video chat right before he was home because it left me longing for him even more.
I would never let him know that though. Since he left the first time, and every time thereafter I would prep myself for his never returning. I think he always had an idea of where my mind was, but he never said anything. I think he had the same internal struggle as I did only he was staying quiet and proving he was always coming back.
I knew this wasn’t rational or healthy for either of us. Where he was silently pleading for my forgiveness, I was pleading for his. I knew one day we would have to come clean with all our secrets. I needed to know why he left, what pushed him to it. He needed to know how ugly my marriage had been. It was why I didn’t push for answers because I knew the minute I did, he would push me for mine.
So every second we spent together was plagued by secrets above our heads like an ax ready to fall and sever everything in its path. It made it hard to reconnect with gloom like that hanging around.
“So how was the interview?” I ask. I’m in my bed in a tank top and leggings while I paint my nails.
“Same as all the others, just more fodder to pump the new album.” I look up to see his brows drawn as he looks at the screen. “What you doing babe?”
I lift one of the ten bottles of polish and show him. “Carrie put me on pink polish duty. I am finding the perfect shade of pink that will go with all the dresses so I’m painting each toe a different color.” I shrug and lift my foot toward the screen to show him my work. Doing this puts me in a position that would make any yoga instructor proud. An erotic groan from Shame makes me blush and drop my foot.
I feel foolish because I have no makeup on, I’m in my lounge clothes and my hair knotted in a messy bun on top of my head. I am not the picture of class or the girlfriend he usually finds sexy. “God babe, remember that position for tomorrow night. I could definitely get down with that only you naked.” He winks and bites his lip and I groan. Unlike me, he always looks like a fuckin’ model for sexy drummers everywhere. There he sits at a desk in a basic white t shirt and he has me aching for him. It's not fair.
“Behave Shame.” I say and drop my leg back down and resume my polish duties.
“Never.” He replies and leans closer to the screen. “Save them pretty pink toes until I’m home tomorrow. You can show me the colors and I can maybe try to help you pick.”
This was so like Shame. He had always been so sweet with things like this. The man had spent hours shopping with me, always willing to give his opinion. I knew he could care less about shopping, nail polish, hair techniques, but Shame had always paid attention to anything I had asked. My attitude lately, however was to snap at him for his kindness. I felt like shit every time I was bitchy to him but couldn’t stop. I was in this crazy defense mode and I couldn’t control it. Tonight was no different.
“Stick to drumming Shame. This isn’t in your pay grade.”
I could see the hurt and the confusion in his eyes, but per his usual with anything emotional he hid it with an eye roll and a sigh.
We had also been in this cycle since the night he left. I spent the entire time he was away preparing myself for his ditching me again and everyday I was wrong. It would make me so mad at myself for not trusting him that my attitude couldn’t be hidden. Then every little thing he said I took offense to because I was reflecting my self-conscious BS onto him. Then when the guilt hit, so did the anger. I justified the guilt reminding myself that he left me with no explanation and no word and I had no choice but to prepare myself for his dropping me again. Then I would calm down before bed and promise myself that tomorrow I would ask him why he left… and then I would remember that my questions would lead to his.
I pretty much needed a bigger rug because I was constantly brushing shit under my current one. It was this cycle of constant worry, anger, guilt and pain. I was so used to putting on a show and keeping my mask in place that there were times you would think it was Cory I was dealing with. The guilt of that comparison alone was pulling me under.
“So what about you? How was your day?” I can hear the tightness of his voice as he asks. It’s like he is waiting for me to snap at him and it hits me then and there. Shamus is acting as I had so many times before… he was walking on eggshells.
Times of self loathing commence!
“Dress shopping.” I say robotically as all our other conversations run through my mind. How many times had he tried to compliment me or ask me questions about my day while he had been gone? There wasn’t a single conversation I could think of that hasn’t resulted in me snapping at him.
“You look heaven sent baby.” He had said once a few weeks ago. I had been in jeans and my TOOL t shirt. The shirt was old and faded from a concert years ago. Tool was Shames favorite band and initially it was why I had chosen the shirt. But hearing the sweet endearment set me off. I loved knowing he thought so highly of me, he always had, but hearing it, then made missing him all the worse. I didn’t want those memories when he left me again.
“It’s a fucking t shirt Shamus not an evening gown.” I snapped back.
“You could wear the ugliest thing baby and still look amazing.”
That had set me off entirely. We ended up fighting over Skype and I slammed my laptop closed on him. The next night he had shown up unannounced and I fell apart. I told him I would try to not be so insecure and I would never treat him that way again. We spent the entire night making up and when he left I swore we were stronger than ever. As I watched his plane take off, I felt that plummeting feeling in my stomach, convinced yet again that he wasn’t coming home.
I saw the defeat on his face and knew I was the one who was pushing him away this time. If he left it would be because I forced it. Even though I could see reason I knew that the minute he spoke I would drop reason and snap at him.
I hated myself for how I was treating him. I felt weak and needy. I knew if he was here I would feel that security, that safety that had become a drug to me. Then he would leave and the withdrawals would start right along side of my agitation.
He sighs audibly and I know he is going to ask me if I am okay. I keep my head down as I roll my eyes. I don’t even want to look at him and see the sadness, see what I am doing to him. So I continue painting my nails and wait for him to change the subject.
“Cassa?” He says my name as a question and the tone of his voice stops my painting. He may be asking for my attention, but the demand of respect in his tone sends a familiar shiver down my spine. I am taken back to when Cory would use that same tone and am reminded of the name calling, the slapping and kicking; the feel of bones crunching and the burn of freshly beaten skin. I look up immediately, but I show no emotion and make no argument. “What the fuck is your deal?”
Though he is mad I relax because this is Shame and I am safe with him. My ire rockets through me that I fell back into the abused woman roll at just the tone of his voice. “Can we not play the ‘Cass you okay baby?’ card tonight?”
“I didn’t ask if you were okay. I asked what the fuck your problem is? If you don’t want this,” he motions between his chest and the computer screen and I know he is motioning me, “then say the word. I can’t keep kissing your ass hoping for the Cassa I love to come through.”
Shame has never hit me, but that was a very harsh and very deserved verbal slap. �
�I don’t know what you’re talking about, but I know damn well you haven’t been kissing my ass you’ve been up it every night asking if I’m okay and telling me how pretty I am. Jesus Shame you get old after a while. I keep waiting for you to talk to me about something other than how bad you miss fucking me and can’t wait until you do!”
That was the most irrational, I had ever been. Sure, he told me every night how he missed me, how he couldn’t wait to be inside of me again, but he also asked about my day and how the girls were. I swear to God, he was a perfect boyfriend and I love him so much I can’t rationalize anymore why I keep doing this. Even though I deserve more anger than he is giving me now I still defend myself and an argument that’s futile at best. I shake my head no and roll my eyes. “I’ll talk to you when I see you tomorrow. I don’t have it in me tonight to make you feel secure.”
Feeling lower than any other time in my life, and I have been low, I go to close my laptop before I completely lose it on him with more insane garbage that he doesn’t deserve.
“Close it and I give up on us.” His voice is dead calm and I halt. No way is he threatening me now, with what I have feared all along? How dare he use that as a weapon?
Completely furious and shaking with anger and a lot of fear I look at him. He is stone cold and not threatening. I see it clear as I see his face through my screen. He is dead fucking serious.
It was anger now that pushed me to do what I do next. Pure, undiluted anger old and boiling from the morning I found he had left without a word. My life unfolds in a series of events as I stay locked on his face. Every slap, every kick, every bloody nose and black eye. I realize then and there I blame Shamus.
I gasp at my own inner thinking’s and I hate myself… despise that truth of myself. Tears fill my eyes because I know without a doubt that this anger stems from my irrational accusations that he is to blame for it all. He broke my heart, shattered it, but what I did after he left, he can’t be held accountable for… but I blame him all the same. “At least you gave me a heads up this time.”
Forgive Me Page 17