Stripped From You

by Marissa Carmel

  She blasts open her eyes. “I’m not afraid of you hurting me Ryan, I’m afraid of being weak.” The strain in her voice is beyond heart wrenching. It’s as if she’s been brainwashed. No sentiment, no feeling, no existence.

  “I thought I told you already, showing emotion isn’t weakness, it’s strength.” Alana doesn’t respond, she just stands there silently, her chest rising and falling as her breathing becomes more labored with every passing moment.

  “Why are you doing this?” she finally asks.

  “Because I want every single part of you. Not just a small piece.”

  “I’m giving you everything I can.”

  “I want more.”

  “I don’t know if I can give you any more.” Her voice is shaky and small.

  “It’s all or nothing. I can’t have it any other way.”

  “Are you giving me an ultimatum?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you’re different.”

  She turns her head away from me and closes her eyes again. I know this is hard for her. I know that I’m pushing, but I need to do this. To make her force what she’s feeling. It’s the only way I’ll ever get anywhere with her, emotionally. The chilling part is my little stunt might backfire right in my face and leave me with nothing. But it’s a risk I’m willing to take.

  Stupidly.

  But I need her.

  All of her.

  “Do you want to know what it’s like?” I ask, skimming two fingertips across her cheek, entrapped by her vulnerability; a side she so rarely ever shows. “Do you want to know what it feels like to be touched by someone who loves you?”

  She raises her eyes to mine, and they burn a hole right through me; the brown fierce, frightened and formidable. There is always one underlying theme in every conversation we have about her family. Affection. Or, should I say, the lack thereof. It kills me that she has no idea that every time I touch her it’s filled with love. Every time I kiss her or caress her I’m telling her how I feel.

  Tonight, I’m going to make it crystal clear.

  “Do you?” I urge.

  She inhales sharply, not answering immediately. I wait. Impatiently. Hoping I hear the right word. “Yes,” she breathes faintly to my astonishment.

  “Yes?”

  “Yes, I want you to touch me,” she says boldly, steeling herself against the wall like I’m a battering ram about to impale her.

  Maybe I am.

  I don’t waste one second dropping to my knees. I look up and meet her apprehensive eyes. I grin devilishly, lifting just one corner of my mouth, then I part the sand-colored towel and place a scorching hot kiss on her stomach right below her navel. I hear Alana’s breath hitch, and I swear her rapid heartbeat is vibrating through her entire body. Her restlessness is sexy as hell. I slide my hands up the back of her soft legs, all the way until I’m grabbing her bare ass and holding her in place, then I press soft kisses down her stomach, moving lower and lower until I meet the sensitive flesh between her thighs. My whole being ignites when I dart my tongue out to taste her. She moans. I moan. Then I apply a little more pressure to her clit, grabbing her ass tighter as I swirl and roll and lash at her with my tongue.

  “Oh God, Ryan,” Alana pants as she slides down the wall. Her resolve crumbling. I grin against her sizzling skin, then throw one of her legs over my shoulder, opening her wide and providing some support. I watch her through hooded eyes as I lick relentlessly, causing her hips to shift back and forth.

  She’s making me fucking crazy.

  I slide one finger inside her, and she groans low and deep in her throat. My zipper is about to burst. I don’t know how I’m going to survive watching her come.

  “Ryan, Ryan, Ryan—” Alana is nearly crying as her muscles contract around my finger. Shit, when she says my name it’s so fucking hot. Like it’s a plea. I want to tell her to let go, not to fight it, but my mouth is a little preoccupied at the moment. Not that I mind one bit. So I communicate with my tongue and my hand, picking up the rhythm, slipping my finger in and out, coaxing her to break.

  And she does.

  “Ryan!” she screams, her body trembling and then entirely giving out as she slides further down the wall until I’m completely supporting her. She’s shuddering and fisting my hair as I draw out her orgasm.

  It’s fucking intense.

  When she relaxes and her breathing becomes a little more stable, she opens her eyes and looks down at me with a glassy, wondrous expression. It stabs me right in the soul. I lift her limp form and lay her on the bed. My whole body is shaking with need. All I want to do is touch her all over. So I do. I unhook the towel still fastened around her chest, revealing every naked inch of her.

  Fuck. Perfect does not describe Alana. Every curve of her hips, dip of her stomach, and swell of her breast is flawless. Her long, pale hair and deep, chestnut eyes only enhance the traits of her superiority.

  I’m a slave to this girl. If I thought it before, I’m sure of it now.

  Pinning her underneath me, I run my hands along her arms and down her sides, soaking up the smoothness of her skin and fresh scent of her hair. Alana mirrors my movements; our lips fuse together tasting, devouring, and consuming each other.

  I can’t even control it when I grind my erection between her legs; it’s pulsing like a heat-seeking missile on a mission. I need to do something to allay the pressure. Like now.

  “Baby,” I rasp in her ear. “I’m going to take a shower. I’ll be right back,” I say, kissing her neck.

  Alana stops moving and looks at me with a confused expression. “Why?” She shifts against me, making me groan.

  “Ummm…” Isn’t it obvious?

  She looks down between our bodies and back up at me almost offended. “Don’t you want to know what it feels like to be touched by someone who loves you?” she asks, grabbing the waist of my pants.

  I freeze.

  “Alana, this isn’t about me.”

  “You’re right. It isn’t. It’s about us.” She looks into my eyes, and it feels like a rocket just launched inside me. This, right here, is why I am infatuatedly in love with Alana. She’s an unassuming powerhouse. A quiet storm, like lightening over the ocean. She doesn’t say much. She’s not domineering or arrogant or overbearing, but if she wants your attention she’ll get it. And she definitely has mine.

  With one firm grip on my waistband with her left, she slips her right hand into my pants. “Alana,” I involuntary hiss, and I don’t know if I’m warning her to stop or begging her to go on. I am sure of one thing though, if she keeps touching me like that, I’m going to become a card carrying member of the premature ejaculation club.

  Every one of my limbs becomes like lead as she strokes me lightly, draining all the energy from my body and redirecting it straight to the raging hard on in her hand.

  “Mmmm…” I drop my head into the crook of her neck, inhaling the clean sent of her skin, as she launches my lucidity into the atmosphere. The harder she rubs and jerks and squeezes, the harder it becomes for me to breathe. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. It feels so good, and not just because she’s rubbing me off. Because she’s the only one I want to touch me. I have no control of my hips as they start pumping in her hand. An orgasm looming.

  “Alana,” I sigh her name, as the pressure builds inside me, tingling my tailbone and sparking like flint meeting steal.

  Before I realize what’s happening, Alana is pushing me off her and forcing me onto my back. She rips my t-shirt up and then off, tossing it onto the floor. I groan audibly as she drags her tongue down my chest, licking and nipping the whole way to my navel. Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. I have to keep reminding myself, because the sheer magnitude of her touch is asphyxiating in the most amazing possible way. Then she pops the button of my shorts, and I nearly combust. My whole body is rigid and tense and alive. As she slides my pants off- underwear and all- my head spins. But when she actually puts her mouth on me, I splinter. Fuuuuck. Her war
m heat wrapped around me is almost too much to take. I shove my hands into her damp hair and tip my head back as she takes me deep into her throat and then back out again. The only sound in the room is my panting breath as she drags me right to the edge of pleasure and dangles me there.

  “Fuck baby, fuck baby.” It’s a warning. But she doesn’t shy away, she just keeps up the relentless rhythm, until I’m twitching in her mouth.

  “Alana, I’m going to come.” I tighten my fists in her hair, a last attempt to warn her before I explode. But she just moans, and takes me deeper into her mouth, brushing the head of my erection against the back of her throat, spurring me to lose all control. I climax so loud, I surprise myself. The ecstasy shredding me apart until it feels like every molecule in my body has disintegrated.

  I’m spent. Physically drained and emotionally charged by a brown-eyed, blonde-haired goddess who absolutely owns my soul.

  When I’m coherent, I pull her head up to my face with my hands still clutched in her hair, then I crush her lips against mine. It’s a kiss above and beyond all other kisses. It’s a kiss filled with love and need and want. A kiss that says her touch is like none other. None other I’ve ever had and none other I’ll ever want.

  “I love you.” I breathe against her mouth.

  Alana pops her eyes open, and they are shining. Glowing with soundless emotion.

  “I know.” She pecks me softly on the lips. She can’t say it. But I know she feels it. It’s okay. I’m not going to force the words out of her. Tonight we had a breakthrough, and for now, I’ll take what I can get.

  I pull her into my arms and wrap one leg around her as a soft ocean breeze flitters through the room, blanketing our naked bodies with its soothing summer warmth. I’m pretty sure if I could lay here forever with her, just like this, I would.

  Alana rubs her nose against my neck and sighs as I hug her tightly. How any one person can bring so much serenity, I’ll never know. But when I’m with her, every problem and worry and crappy part of my life fades away, leaving only us, and the security I find in her arms. The arms of a perfect, imperfect person who somewhere, deep down loves me.

  “Why do you always smell so clean, like bubbles?” I ask, as I sniff her skin.

  She giggles, wiggling in my arms from the light brush of my cheek. “It’s bubble bath.”

  “Like legitimate bubble bath?”

  “What other kind is there?”

  “I don’t know.” “It’s baby wash,” she clarifies. “I’m addicted to the scent.”

  “Me too.” I nip at her neck and inhale.

  We spend the next -I don’t even know how long –kissing and caressing and petting, learning each other’s bows and bends and ticklish spots. Well, I’m learning all Alana’s ticklish spots. At the moment, the fleshy part of her hips have my full attention.

  “Stop!” She slaps my hand as I tickle her.

  “Nope. Mine,” I respond, and tickle her harder.

  “Ryan…” She laughs, squirming in my arms, our naked bodies brushing against one another.

  I love the sound of her laugh.

  I love that there’s nothing in between us.

  I love that she’s all mine.

  “I have wanted to touch you like this for so long.”

  “You can touch me whenever you want.”

  “Good, because I plan on touching you a lot.” I reach around and grab her ass. Mmmm. She giggles some more.

  Suddenly someone pounds on the door, causing Alana to nearly jump out of her skin.

  “What?” I bark, pulling her tightly against me.

  “Yo!” Mac slurs, juggling the door knob.

  “Bro, you walk in here, it will be the last thing you ever see.” Like hell he is getting a glimpse of Alana’s bare ass.

  Mac laughs. “Just letting you know we lit the bon fire. Hot dogs and marshmallows over an open flame,” he says like he’s trying to entice us.

  “Sounds fucking appetizing, wieners on a stick,” I dig.

  “Don’t forget, marshmallows too,” he antagonizes me. Dickhead.

  “Scram,” I snap, refocusing on the naked goddess in my bed. Alana is beet red, looks mortified and a little amused all at the same time.

  “Whatever asshole. You know where to find us,” Mac says irked, and both Alana and I erupt in laughter. Drunk ass.

  “Are you hungry?” she asks sweetly.

  “Mmmm hmmm,” I answer. “But not for hot dogs on a stick.”

  “For what then?” She blinks curiously.

  “Seconds.” I kiss her, devouring her mouth, touching every part of her body I want.

  Alana and I spent the last two days in bed.

  We were holed up completely content playing, laughing, and exploring each other in all ways possible. I don’t think I’ve ever had so much fun doing nothing in my whole life. But when I’m with Alana, even nothing means something.

  “What are you thinking about?” she asks as we drive home. It’s close to dusk, the sun is setting, and the sky is lit up with pinks and oranges and blues.

  “I was thinking I could have spent another two weeks in bed with you.”

  “Oh yeah?” She smiles. She’s wearing those annoying mirrored sunglasses again. And although I still hate them, I know they aren’t hiding her emotions anymore.

  “Yeah.”

  “Maybe we can steal away another weekend before I leave for school,” she suggests, and I feel a little stab of sadness in my heart. I don’t want her to leave. Ever.

  “Definitely.” I grab her hand and squeeze, trying to sound cheerful. I’m not sure I’m pulling it off. As much as I want Alana with me always, I would never stand in her way. I would never stop her from pursuing her dreams, and I would never let her jeopardize her future for me.

  She frowns as she looks at me. Maybe I’m not masking my feelings so well.

  She leans over a little in her seat and twirls a piece of my hair with her finger. It’s still long; I never did get that haircut.

  “Do you think what Mac said is true?”

  “About what?”

  “About getting head while you drive? That it makes you fall in love?”

  I whip my head around. “Baby, I’m already in love, you don’t need to give me head.” Her mouth twists into a mischievous smile. Then she slides one hand up my thigh until she’s cupping me in her hand. I jump.

  “Alana.”

  “Concentrate on the road, Ryan,” she whispers seductively in my ear. I start to pant, gripping the steering wheel for dear life as she fondles me.

  “Alana-” I think her name is about all I can manage at the moment.

  “Shhh.” She starts kissing my neck, rubbing me harder. This girl is a jack-in-the-box of surprises. My heart is racing, my foot feels like lead, and when she puts her mouth on me, I hiss. It’s all I can do to keep from falling apart.

  Holy. Fuck.

  Just when I thought I couldn’t love her more, she proves me wrong.

  That little stunt Alana pulled in the car was well…Ummm…hell yeah.

  Now I’m back in my tiny two bedroom apartment, laying in the single bed I barely fit on, daydreaming about the last few days. Anywhere, even if it is a reverie, is better than here.

  My phone beeps. I pick it up and open the text message. It reads ‘good morning hot boy’ with a selfie of Alana in her candy striping uniform and not much else. I sit up, and inspect the picture a little more, a stupid grin on my face.

  She drives me nuts in all the best possible ways.

  I text back:

  Morning yourself. Hot girl.

  Alana: Wanted to send you a pic so you didn’t miss me to much 2night.

  Me: 2nite??

  Alana: Dinner for my aunt’s bday.

  Then I remember. It will be the first Saturday night since we met she won’t be at the club with me.

  Me: L Ditch.

  Alana: Wish I could. <3 Beach 2morrow?

  Me: Yes. Def. Love you.

  Alana:
Muah, hot boy.

  I toss the phone onto the bed and fall back onto the pillow, huffing and puffing. Twenty-four whole hours without her. Excruciating.

  I finally pull myself out of bed, trek into the kitchen to find it halfway decent, and my mother sitting at the table drinking coffee, puffing on a cigarette.

  “Morning,” I say as I pour myself one too. “What’s going on?”

  “Your brother’s gone AWOL,” she says in a raspy voice, not even looking at me.

  “I noticed.” I frown and pour some milk into the mug. Sean MIA is never a good sign. “Think he’s having an episode?”

  He didn’t seem to be spiraling when I left for LBI, but his episodes come on fast sometimes, and he’s crashing before we even know it.

  “I hope not.” She takes a drag of her cigarette, solemnly.

  Bipolar disorder is a mind fuck of a disease. Watching my brother bounce all over his emotions is unbearable sometimes. But the way he deals with his episodes is even worse.

  “I’ll call around, see if I can track him down,” I tell her as I sit down at the table. She kills her cigarette in the cheap gold ashtray.

  “Okay,” she huffs. She looks worn out. Her hair is oily and needs to be washed, her face is pale, and she smells like booze.

  “How is your girlfriend?” she asks randomly.

  “Good,” I answer, and I can’t keep from smiling.

  My mother stares at me vacantly. Her blue eyes the same color as mine, but lifeless.

  “You like this one, huh?”

  “I love her,” I say, working my jaw. I don’t know why admitting that makes me defensive.

  She shakes her head, but says nothing else. Her silence is almost oppressive. She doesn’t approve one bit, and I have no idea why. Then she stands, and wraps her ratty pink bathrobe tightly around her.

  “I have to be at work at three. Find Sean,” she mutters before walking out of the kitchen.

  If I didn’t look for him, no one would.

  I have called every one of Sean’s boys, and no one has seen him, which is making me crazy. I’ve been driving around all day checking out his regular hangout spots. Nada. I even paid a visit to Tasha, his, well, ‘friend’. Sean’s never been in a relationship, but he definitely has a soft spot for her. I understand why he keeps his distance; he’s unstable. Never knowing which direction his mood is going to swing, or how he’s going to handle it. It kills me that he’ll never be normal. That there’s nothing I can do to change the fact he’s sick. Or how he turns to heroin to deal with his disease.