by Shey Stahl
Would it be appropriate to stick my tongue out?
Oh, my God. I can’t believe we’re doing this in public.
Moving backward at his lead, he presses me against the side of the trailer, keeping me in place against the metal side with his hips, so strong and forceful I can’t move even if I wanted. The burning in my stomach aches with need, my body arching against him in response, wanting him to fulfill the need.
Shaking, my body curves, bending around his, craving the quiet groans that fall from his lips. “That’s it. Give in to me.”
He knows the instant I do.
His mouth moves hastily from my ear to my neck and down my collarbone, before returning to my mouth. Suddenly, he steps back and yanks his pants down to where they meet his riding boots and then removes his jersey and tosses it on the ground.
Holy crap. Not only is his bare ass showing to everyone, but Tiller Sawyer with no shirt is just about the sexiest thing ever. Between the hard muscles and the ink, I will never tire of seeing him like this. Everywhere I look is hard, taut, tanned inked muscle, begging to be touched and licked.
With lust-stricken eyes, I grasp onto him anywhere I can.
Without breaking the kiss, his mouth is back to my neck when his hips move against mine. There’s no denying what’s going on when he rubs against me.
“I don’t have a condom,” he tells me.
“I’m on the pill.” My heart hammers, breathing escaping me entirely. Maybe it’s the jealousy, but I can’t help myself, my hips moving, making more direct, persistent contact with his. I’m certainly aware that he’s been with other women and could potentially have something, but I don’t stop him. I can’t even tell you why I don’t other than I want him, completely oblivious to the consequences of it.
He makes a noise in my ear, somewhere between a gasp and a groan, as his body answers mine. “I can’t wait any longer.”
Supporting my weight against the side of the trailer, his hands move to my breasts, massaging them with need and desire. My hips drag against his again, savoring the feeling, but knowing this should be stopped. The sensation, a reminder, jolts through my body like a spark to an engine, like the igniting of a firecracker.
Pressing his lips to mine, he drowns out everything when the trouble-tortured groan leaves his lips, and he reaches for the edge of my panties under my dress.
Face flushing with the heat of the night, he moves my panties aside and gasps for air as he enters me. “Fuck, you’re so tight and perfect.”
I love the way the sound of his voice makes me feel secure, wanted, desired to the point of obsession.
I throw my head back against the trailer, and Tiller curls his arms around the backs of my knees and holds me in place, pounding into me with need, fucking me thoroughly. “When I’m finished, every time you move tonight you’re going to be reminded of me fucking you against this trailer.”
“Oh God,” I whisper, not knowing what else to say. Overwhelmed by his words, I desperately cling to his body and the reassurance I have him now.
“Say it, Amberly,” he begs, his breathing heavy as drives into me, our eyes locked. “You have to fucking say it. Tell me you want me too. Tell me that you’re mine.”
Sometimes you have to ask for something you want, and that’s not something I’ve been able to do with him. Tiller is determined to make me. He wants me to tell him what he so badly desires to hear from me.
“I’m yours, Tiller. Always.”
And it’s the truth. Always has been.
“Fucking Christ, Amberly. . . .” Again, my name, his weakness, a prayer spoken against my lips, as if he’s claiming me. He knows as well as I do there could never be someone else that could make me feel the way he does.
He slams into me again, filling me, over and over again. I want to slow it down, but I know we don’t have time. Shade’s run is only two minutes and then Tiller’s up. My sounds mixing with his is all it takes for me to get lost in his every thrust, every moan, and I’m pushed over the edge until I’m falling with him.
No, literally falling onto the ground. Tiller catches us by falling to his knees, never pulling out of me. Instead, his hands wrap under and over the tops of my shoulders, slamming me down on him, over and over again.
It’s quick, and then Tiller groans, his body shaking as he lets go, strangled words falling from his lips, his head thrown back. Watching him in the midst of his orgasm is enough for me. I don’t need to get off to get pleasure out of that. When his body stops shaking, I wonder what he’s going to say to me next.
Leaning back to see his face in the dim lighting, my hand drifts to his face, running my fingertips along the edge of his cheek, and for a split second, he opens his eyes to me. I want to see warmth and the connection reach his eyes. And when I don’t see it, a hint of fear hits me as I realize all I see is sadness. His lids shut again, and he begins kissing me harder, trying to mask whatever he’s feeling.
Under that sadness—the vulnerability and the emotion—is something in the way he looks at me, like I’m all he’s ever wanted, but never thought he deserved. He looks at me like he’s about to lose me. And while I want to reassure him he won’t, I know I can’t promise him anything because I know how destructive Tiller can be when he wants to be. He can drive everyone and anything away from him.
I feel beautiful in the harsh light of the street lamps above us. Alive and consumed by his obsession with me. With one last kiss, his mouth parts from mine.
There’s a sting as he slides out of me, both in my body and my heart. My breathing evens out, and he gasps, hands in his hair, swallowing over and over again, trying to gain control. “Fuck. . .,” he breathes out when I stand.
Drawing back, he stares at me as he stands, too, almost confused, his breathing remaining heavy. His head slumps forward as he breathes in harsh gasps, pulling his riding pants back up.
Ricky comes around the corner and nods to him. “It’s time, Wild Cat.”
“I gotta go,” he mumbles, so low I have to strain to hear him.
My cheeks break into a fire, waiting to see what he’ll say. Finally, he draws in a deep breath and looks over his shoulder Ricky waiting for him.
And then he smiles and bends down to retrieve his jersey. “I owe you one now.”
“Yeah.” I bite my bottom lip, relaxing slightly. “You do.”
His damp hair falls against my face. “Sorry,” he whispers, for what I had no idea.
Maybe because I didn’t have an orgasm?
Leaning his forehead against mine, he admits, “That wasn’t exactly what I—”
“Tiller!” Ricky yells. Tiller’s bike’s now at the end of the trailer running. “Come on, man! You’re up! Get the fuck out here!”
“Impatient fuck.” He glances over his shoulder again. “I’m coming!”
Moving back, he shifts away completely and yanks his jersey on. His eyes move to mine, before looking away.
“I’ll be back.” He leans in, his lips pressing to my forehead, staying there for what seems like forever. When he pulls back, his eyes fixate on mine. “Stay with me tonight?”
I nod, and he stands there staring at me for a moment, the rush of everything sinking in.
The air changes, and I feel it. It’s in the confused expression of his brows and the way he runs his hand over the back of his neck. He hesitates, as if he can’t decide if he wants to say something else to me.
That’s when he turns to me and says, “You’re mine.”
I know I am.
Rolling up to the launch zone, Tiller revs his bike, drawing my attention toward him. I’m on the sidelines with the mechanics and fans. My eyes seek his, hidden behind mirrored purple goggles. He nods, my smile can’t be helped, and neither can the warmth of my cheeks.
I watch his run, alongside those same women who were hanging on him. As Seether’s “Betray and Degrade” blares into the night, effortlessly, Tiller flies through the air, soaring high above me. The women, they stare
at me, whispering to one another and all I can think about is leaning over and saying, “Hey, I have his cum dripping down my leg. How’s that for possession!”
Ew. Gross, Amberly. So gross.
It’s during his run, with every trick he throws, from the 360 flare, to the double backflip and the superman, he looks back at me every single time. After his run, he skids to a stop in front of me, his back tire off the ground in a front endo that has him sliding forward on the seat suggestively, slowly, on purpose. He pushes up against the fence, his eyes hidden behind his goggles. Slowly, his back tire hits the dirt and he revs the bike, pushing up against the foam barrier separating us. The barrier hits my hips, a reminder of where he was just moments ago.
Laughing, I shake my head, marked with the memory of everything he is to me. “You’re crazy,” I mouth, my words lost in the roar around us.
He gives me a head nod, then blips the throttle with a flick of his wrist and wheelies away from the wall.
One of the women near me leans in, watching Tiller ride away. “Are you with him?”
My pulse thunders in my chest. I look over at her, unsure how to answer, but I nod. “Yes.”
It’s in his arms that night, again, where he finally gives a piece of himself I didn’t know he’d give. It’s whispered under his breath as he’s pinning me to the wall in his room. “I’m never not thinking of you.”
Sometimes you don’t need three words. You need strong arms to hold your fears and messy love that doesn’t make sense to anyone but you.
It’s late when I pry my eyes open. Since we didn’t go to bed until the early hours of the morning, I’m not surprised to see it’s already eleven thirty.
Immediately I think of River and want to check on her since she wasn’t feeling well last night. I hate it when babies are sick.
I leave Tiller sleeping on his stomach, his arms tucked underneath his head, snoring, and make my way downstairs. I can hear voices in the distance that sound similar to Scarlet. It’s when I reach the bottom of the stairs and get a peek into the living room where River is standing at the coffee table, my heart drops to my feet.
“River, no!” I scream, hoping she drops what’s in her hand. A razor blade. In front of her, lines of cocaine.
River drops the blade on the table. It makes a clinging sound, and she instantly bursts into tears.
Rushing to her side, I stumble over people sleeping on the ground and lunge at her. “No, no, you’re fine. I’m so sorry! You’re okay. I just. . . you can’t play with that. It’s sharp.”
The door closes, and Scarlet finally appears, holding a gallon of milk. She looks to me, then River with panic. “What’s going on?”
“Where were you?” I shout, picking River up off the floor. I look at her face, hoping she doesn’t have any cuts or worse, cocaine on her. She had been tracing the white substance on the table, but surely she didn’t taste it, right?
Oh my God, how could I have been so stupid? My family already wants to take her away from me, and now this. Now they can because I’m a horrible person for allowing this to happen, just so I could be alone with Tiller.
“I was getting milk for the French toast,” Scarlet says, rushing to our side. “What’s wrong?”
“She was holding a razor blade and drawing faces in cocaine. Who are all these people here?”
Scarlet looks at the bodies on the floor, most passed out from last night’s party. “I don’t know. We. . . uh. . . I was just making breakfast. I only left her for a second to get milk out of the fridge in the garage.”
Holding River’s crying face to my chest, I rub her back. “I should have known. I should have never left her.”
“Don’t freak out.” Rubbing my shoulder, Scarlet tries to calm me down. “Everything’s fine.”
“How can everything be fine, Scarlet? She was just playing with cocaine. What if she ingested some?”
We both look at River as I set her on the counter. She doesn’t look high, but how’s that going to look if I call poison control and be like, “Yeah, so my kid might have ingested cocaine. Any suggestions?”
Jail. I’m looking at a life sentence in prison. I just know it.
Scarlet grabs my face between her hands. “Stop it. We’ll figure this out. Camden once accidentally sniffed cocaine and was totally fine. Then puked for two days straight. If we can deal with that, we can handle this.”
“What?” I panic, my heart beating a million miles an hour. “Holy shit. I have to get out of here. I can’t be here anymore.”
“I’ll watch her. Go upstairs and get your stuff and talk to Tiller.”
Hesitation roots me in place. I don’t want to leave her. I shouldn’t let her out of my sight, but I don’t want her present for what I’m going to need to say to Tiller.
I swallow over the bile rising up. “Please watch her. Don’t let her out of your sight.”
Scarlet nods, eyes wide. “I promise I won’t.”
Running upstairs, my heart threatens to explode in panic. How did I let this happen? How could I have been so stupid as to believe this could work so effortlessly?
Opening Tiller’s door, I slam it shut again. “I’m so fucked.”
Tiller startles awake like someone smacked him. I’m about to so it’s a good thing he’s up. “What?
“I’m such a fool,” I say, shoving clothes into my bag and trying to find all my stuff scattered over his floor.
“What’s going on?”
I pace the room. I don’t answer. I cry, because it’s the only thing I can think to do. The rush of everything hits me in the chest, and I gasp. I could lose River over this. I could. I might. No. No, I won’t allow it. I will fight for her even if it means giving up Tiller. For River, I have to make that choice. I can’t put her in danger like that ever again.
Tiller stands, yanking on a pair of shorts and coming to stand next to me. He tries to stop me, make me look at him, but I can’t, won’t. “Calm down and tell me what happened.”
After a minute, he physically stops me, grabbing my shoulders and yanking me to stand in front of him. I drop the bag I’m holding on his feet.
He cringes, but stares at me. “What’s going on?”
It takes me a minute to speak, but when I do, the words come out in a rush. “My niece. . . your daughter was just playing with cocaine on the table downstairs.”
His eyes widen. “What?”
“I can’t believe you are so irresponsible,” I tell him, wiggling from his grasp.
He stands there, his chest rising and falling with his every breath, his fists clenching at his sides. “They’re not my drugs!” The muscles in his jaw tick. “I haven’t done a goddamn line in two months.” And I believe him, but it doesn’t make this any better.
Our chests almost touch. Tiller tips his head down to look at me, the turmoil in his eyes lighting my soul on fire. “I know they’re not yours, but I can’t believe we were this irresponsible. If my parents find out, if Alexandra. . ..” A shiver of guilt runs through me at the thought. “I could lose her forever, Tiller. You could lose her forever. I can’t believe I ever thought this could work.”
Our eyes collide, the fires of hell in his, cold winter in mine. He’s looking at me without a hint of realization as to what this means. I swallow back the pain.
My heart stumbles, trips over what I can’t say.
I don’t say anything. I can’t say anything. He’s silent, staring back at me with troubled eyes.
He’s waiting for something, but I don’t think he knows what.
And then he snaps, offended, scowling at me. “Why are you fucking blaming me for this shit though?”
“This is your life,” I point out. “This is who you are. I was so stupid to believe I could actually bring a kid into your lifestyle and it be okay. I can’t believe I was so irresponsible to think otherwise.”
It looks like he’s about to walk away, but before he does, he pushes me back against the wall, both his arms above my head a
nd pinning me in his captivity. “Really? This is hard to believe?”
I let out a shriek of surprise, blinking rapidly.
“Are you kidding me? There’s a reason she wasn’t in my life. I never said I was anyone else. I didn’t ask for this. There’s a reason I haven’t seen her until you brought her here. I didn’t ask to be her dad. I fucked your sister.” Heat rolls off his body, the words suffocating. “That’s all. What did you think was going to happen? You’d knock on the door, and we’d be one big fucking family?” His tone is lazy and low, and sorta psychotic, just like him. “You should leave. We’ll just call this a moment of weakness, and you let the dumb asshole in for one moment. I’m not stupid enough to believe this meant anything. Get the fuck out. I’m tired of this bullshit.”
I stand there, frozen. He’s never talked to me this way.
“I’m curious, Amberly, what did you think was going to happen hanging out here?” he presses. “Did you really think she’d be okay and wouldn’t at some point find trouble?” His expression is hard. There’s no understanding and certainly no compassion. He’s destroying, trying to piss me off.
“I knew this wasn’t a place for her. I did. That’s why I’m leaving now before something else happens and I lose her forever.”
His jaw tightens, his scowl mean. Guys like Tiller, they don’t want to remember the things that make them feel. They want to destroy them. “Just fucking face it, Amberly. You were never going to give me a chance.”
“I did give you a chance, Tiller. You’re the one destroying it.”
“How am I destroying it?” There’s an undertone of desperation in his voice and the way it stalls on the word. “You’re the one ending it.”
I don’t say anything, and his eyebrows arch a little, as if he’s waiting for me to say something.