by Tiana Laveen
This was what mental illness did to families. It wrapped its skeletal claws around decaying window frames, climbed through the slightest cracks in the walls, oozed into one’s mind, heart, and soul, and destroyed all who dared to stay long enough to witness it—all who endured and loved the one under its horrid control. It could be put to sleep for a time with medications, meditation, awareness and therapy, but it could never be snuffed out for good. It always fed from the fear of its return.
Zaire had learned this about herself, her family, her mother: it would never end, so she covered it all up any chance she got. Lived in a make-believe world of her own creation. Perhaps though, in some strange way, she wasn’t lying simply for the sake of it. Perhaps she wished to also protect her friends from the ugly truth—not because of her own shame, but knowing that then, they’d be more inclined to come to her in their time of need. If they knew of her true struggles, would they bog her down with the nuisances of their life? Their trials and tribulations? Regardless, these sorts of circumstances simply couldn’t be controlled but Dad, in his usual protective way, wished to stop the hemorrhaging.
Just then, the doorbell rang. She grabbed her phone to check the Ring app.
There’s no way that could be Maximus. That’s far too soon.
“Was that your door? I’ll let you go, Eva.” She checked the live color footage and saw a man standing there, dark sunglasses over his eyes, car key dangling in his big hands, and a huge, shit-eating smile as he stared into the doorbell camera. When Maximus waved, she nearly jumped out of her skin. “Eva?”
“Uh, yes, Dad! So sorry, a, uh, a friend of mine is at the door. He’s a bit early. I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?”
“All right. I’ll let your mother know and then maybe she can speak to you, too.”
“That sounds just perfect. Dad?”
“Yes?”
“I love you.”
“I love you too, princess.”
Her father hung up first, leaving her standing there, listening to the dial tone. She hung up then left the bedroom, her cell in hand.
I haven’t had time to change clothes, take a shower or bath—nothing! All I did was talk to my father and drink. I look a hot mess, too!
She huffed as she made her way down the steps to the first floor, unlocked the solid white and frosted glass front door and swung it open to feast her eyes on a male specimen that made her damn near weak at the knees. Six foot five inches of pure, unadulterated delicious fuckery. He burst out laughing, exposing a white wad of gum in his mouth. Casually sliding his shades off his face, he propped them on his head.
It’s nighttime and this fool has on sunglasses…
“What’s so funny?” she asked.
“You. You weren’t expecting me so soon, were you?” He winked, enjoying how she squirmed, no doubt. A mosquito flew dangerously close to his face. Swiping his hand in the air, he made a grabbing motion with thumb and forefinger. When he slowly opened his hand, the mosquito lay in his palm, crushed to death, a shell of what it had once been, and it hadn’t even gotten a taste of the Savage blood.
“Are you going to let me in or just have me stand out here under this bright, hot ass porch light servin’ as a human buffet for these fucking flying bloodsuckers? If I’m going to be slurped and sucked on, I would prefer it to be by you.” Wrapping her hand around his wrist, she tugged hard, dragging the clown inside, then closed and locked the door behind them. “Careful with the jacket. Ya like to get rough, huh?” he mumbled, a greasy grin on his face.
The beast bobbed his head in approval of her digs. She took that time to study his form, get reacquainted with the asshole she’d recently become obsessed with…
His neck is as thick as tree trunk.
But it wasn’t short. Everything on Savage was huge, minus his ass, which, if her memory served her well, was cute and well rounded—definitely more muscle than fat. His stomach was also chiseled to perfection, flowing into a lovely ‘V’ despite his affinity for ample servings of beer.
He tossed her a glance from over his shoulder. “This place is nice.”
“Thank you.”
“It suits you… all this white ’nd shit.” He chewed loudly on his gum. “Like to keep things clean I see.” He began to pace around like he owned the place. “But we both know you get down and dirty.” He winked at her before plopping down on the couch. Worn jeans covered his long legs, flowing into a pair of heavy black boots. He ran his hands over his knees, one of his fingers adorned with a silver skull ring adorned with dark jewels for eyes. He hooked his finger in a come-hither motion, then patted the couch.
“What?” She toyed with him a bit, fighting a budding grin as she crossed her arms and stared at him.
“Why are you standing way over there like you’ve never seen a motherfucker before? I bite, but I don’t have rabies. Sit your ass down, girl.”
“Now I see why they call you Mr. Romance.” She rolled her eyes.
“Come on, Zaire.” He laughed. “I didn’t come all the way over here just to look at you from across the room. I could’ve done that from the comfort of my own bed on Skype.”
She made her way over to him and sat down, feeling a mixture of emotions, including some she hadn’t quite sorted out yet. He wasted no time wrapping his arm around her waist and bringing her close. Before she could tell herself once again that she was making bad choices, the devil slid his tongue inside her mouth and gifted her with an all-encompassing, seductive, spine-tingling kiss. Too soon, he pulled away ever so slightly, smelling delicious and looking good. With a twinkle in his eye, he gently reached for her chin and made her look him directly in the eyes.
“So, you want to talk first, then fuck? Or fuck then talk? I’d prefer the second option, but I’m trying be a gentleman ’nd shit, trying to show you that I don’t have to be selfish.”
She snorted. “You’re impossible, you know that?”
“I know.”
He gave her a quick peck on the lips, then she got to her feet. He followed suit, taking off his jacket and flinging it on the couch. She took his hand and led him toward the staircase. All she could hear was his heavy boots behind her, his slow and easy breathing and her own damn heartbeat practically beating out of her chest…
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Purple Prose & Women’s Work
“It smells like vanilla and amber in here. Sweet, alluring…” Savage murmured as he quickly disrobed, but was duly distracted by the woman’s flair for the color white that dominated the furniture, matching décor and accessories. The bedclothes and curtains offered the only contrast of color, both in rich shades of purple. He wasn’t a fan of purple, but the shade suited her just fine. Rich. Lush. Regal.
“Probably the diffusers.” She pointed to a corner glass vanity with a silver and diamond crusted frame and two vases filled with what appeared to be oils. Long straw colored sticks poked out of the vases, responsible for creating the scented oasis he’d entered.
Women were strange creatures indeed. Their trappings were essential to them, especially when it came to pedantic ladies like Zaire. He too enjoyed his homes, from his minimalistic apartment in Manhattan to his cabin in Tennessee, so he understood. His eye needed to be fed on a daily basis and beautiful accoutrements, beautiful women, and beautiful violence made his fucking day. Still, his own digs were definitely stamped with pure testosterone. Those were his personal tastes.
His place was a bachelor pad on steroids, with a hell of a lot of money thrown at it to emphasize his greatest desires. Zaire’s femininity, on the other hand, was poured into her hideaway as if she’d been melted into the liquid gold that she was… but there was a catch.
This was the side of her that viewers didn’t see. The plentiful, fragrant flowers in every room, rich silks and satins, oversized abstract minimalist paintings in clear frames, and the whole estrogen driven display would’ve been enough to drive him crazy, but right now, he had a one track mind. He stayed focused on the prize: the
honey pot between her long, shapely legs…
He sat down on the edge of the plush, high-poster bed, nearly slipping off the slick sheeted son of a bitch while Zaire took her sweet time removing her ho-hum, oversized gray ensemble. Honestly, if she were wearing a plastic grocery sack with holes in it, she’d still look good, but his showing up sooner than anticipated afforded him a luxury. He got to see her in a relaxed, no-frills state, inhibitions down. Not all dolled up with her mask on.
“Where’s your studio at? I thought you told me it was in your house?” He looked about in wonder, then cracked his neck and knuckles, beginning to unwind.
“It’s in the basement. Yes.” She slid her bra straps down her smooth shoulders. He’d kissed them a hundred times… “I have probably one of the few homes here with a full-sized basement. I asked for it when the home was being drafted to build. My intentions for the space were already clear in my mind… thinking ahead.”
“I have a basement, too.” He ran his hand along his jaw, eyeing her, unable to control the lust bubbling within him like a pot simmering on high for far too long.
“Oh, you do? What do you use it for? Storage?”
“Persecution. It’s a torture chamber.” She chuckled at his words, but her smile soon faded once they locked eyes and his expression remained placid.
“Are you serious?” Her brows bunched and her mouth dropped open, pearly white teeth fully exposed.
“Nope… I’m just fuckin’ with ya.”
She grimaced, then huffed. Wiggling out of her panties, she tossed them at him in a fit of irritation. He burst out laughing, catching them midflight. He closed his eyes and brought them to his nose, inhaling her feminine aroma. “Shit, you smell so good, baby.” He let them fall onto the hardwood floor then scooted back towards the massive headboard, waiting for his meal to be hand delivered. His rock hard cock twitched in anticipation. In a sexy sashay, her round hips swinging with each step, her naked body glorious, she inched closer—a thing of pure beauty.
Her eyes gleamed with something dark, gentle feelings replaced with seedy seduction and yearning.
“Yeah… bring that ass over here.” His heart beating hard, he snapped his fingers for her to hurry the hell up. He wanted her in the worst way… had practically chased cars off the road trying to get his lips pressed against that sweet snatch of hers, to taste her fountain and drill her pussy with a dick pulsing at the mere thought of her. His head resting on one of the soft lavender scented pillows, he kept his eye on her teasing movements.
“I’m growing impatient with you.”
Ignoring his angst, she climbed onto the bed slow and easy, tiger-like, torturing him. When she was close enough to be made into an example, he lunged at her with full force. She screamed out and chortled, grasping at air. He turned her around and lay back down, dragging her with him like prey.
“Sit on my face.” The woman hesitated as she cast him a glance from over her shoulder, then arched her back and ass like a cat preparing for a good old-fashioned fuck. He grabbed her by the waist, his fingertips sinking into rich, soft flesh as he positioned her just so above his mouth. Zaire leaned slightly forward, her elbows resting on the sheets in the space between his thighs, her knees on either side of him as she straddled his body. With her pussy up close and personal, he used two fingers to open her up for a better look and taste.
The pussy lips were slick as he rubbed them gently, his heart now racing out of control with lustful hunger. Her heady scent of arousal fell upon him and his mouth pooled with anticipation and hunger.
“Do you know how fuckin’ pretty your pussy is, baby?” he said, his voice cracking. “It’s fuckin’ perfect.”
With his tongue, he teased and toyed with his feminine reward, administering the lightest and most feathery of caresses, driving her clearly insane by the way she cooed, begged, and tried to garner more of his oral touch by shoving her love harder against his lips. Gathering momentum, he began to feast, holding her steady so she couldn’t move and take control. He slid the tip of his tongue up and down her pussy, licking and applying pressure, sucking the glistening, overflowing valley that oozed a creamy stream, drenched just for him… Taking his sweet time, he made it his duty to show her what wet dreams were made of.
It didn’t take long for her guttural moans and light and airy sighs to fill the room as she clawed the sheets and cursed. He yanked her impossibly closer, practically suffocating himself with her honeyed essence and loving every second of it. His arms wrapped around her stomach, he drew her in, made her use his face as a chair to bring her closer to an explosion of passion. Her floodgates opened from his touch, and he circled the delicate, soft fleshy folds with a tilt of his tongue to the left, then the right. She shuddered ever so slightly as he increased his pace, his lips and chin coated with her sweet, drizzled caramel center that dripped from her delectable cookie.
“Smother the fuck outta me! Where tha hell are you goin’, huh?! Get your ass back over here! I said sit on my fuckin’ face!” She began to bounce and twerk against his lips, driving him insane as she bucked from his grip.
He welcomed the wonderous waves and rolls of her body; the roundness of her ass and hips felt like a pillow from Heaven as his hands roamed every inch of her within touching distance.
Her skin is like mahogany velour and umber velvet… I can eat her silken pussy and taste her wet dreams… Her vivid visions told me she wants to be eaten from the outside in, her walls torn down, her pretty little world destroyed by a wrecking ball of a motherfucker like me… I’ll keep going until I suck her soul out of her damn body, claim it as my own since I have none and swallow it whole… She’ll feel empty like a broken vase once I turn her loose, and she’ll have to fuck me with all that she has in her to get it back…
Opening her wider with his fingers, stretching the pink flesh until her pussy hole was fully revealed from behind the fleshy curtains of her fat lips, he sucked her tangy juices then twirled his eager tongue within the love tunnel he craved to engulf and penetrate with vicious tenacity.
“SAVAGE!” Her voice cracked like lightning and leather whips. It was earthy, the ends tattered and the tone untamed.
“I love how you sound, baby. You’re breathing so hard…” he said between feverish licks and the smacking of his lips, savoring every single drop as she came. She screamed and shuddered against him as her honey released into his mouth. His dick was hard as a damn brick as the woman panted and cried out and moaned, slowly coming down from her high. The sounds of her orgasm made him all the harder. Made him want to destroy her then rebuild her all over again. Before he could finish having his way with her, she slid away from him and off the bed, her thighs coated in her slick, clear cum, then paused at what appeared to be an orgasmic aftershock taking her over. She leaned against the dresser for support, her temple under orgasmic siege…
His oral prowess had defeated her. His mouth had once again been her undoing. He smirked with pleasure at her temporary disability, loving how her body succumbed to him, proving he was a bastard with a vicious tongue, in more ways than one.
“You’ve got some good pussy, baby. Damn. Tastes incredible.” He licked his fingers with relish, sighing, then sat up, making himself comfortable.
“So I’ve been told.” Her voice was shaky as she attempted to keep her cool.
“But only my opinion matters. Get back in the fuckin’ bed. I want to beat that fuckin’ kitty up. Make ya call PETA.”
She chuckled at his words.
The woman left the dresser, almost tripping over herself. She leaned up against a wall, her back towards him, breathing heavily, then walked gingerly toward a MacBook computer attached to Bose speakers. Within a minute or two, The Weeknd’s, ‘What You Need’ played in the room. When she turned to get back to the bed, he reluctantly left his comfortable spot to grab a condom from the wallet in his pants pocket.
In no time flat, they were wrapped in the sheets like mummies, kissing, laughing, hugging, rolling a
round, playing and falling all over each other like feathers from a busted pillow. He couldn’t recall ever being so enthused, enjoying such a good time. Perhaps he’d never laughed during sexual encounters before. Never deviated from the singular mission of pounding some pussy then removing the female from his sight as soon as possible. Right then, he couldn’t recall a time when he’d put all of himself into it—like now. It was simply happening. They were two wild waves in an ocean, merging, becoming one.
He hooked his hand around her neck and drew her in for a kiss. Their mouths touched lightly, then pulled back… then came back together again like prayer hands. Plumy touches, lip licks, and seductive caresses…
He swallowed when he looked into her gorgeous ebony eyes.
“You taste yourself when I kiss you?” She nodded. “Salty sweetness… so beautiful. I could just eat you up.”
She quivered beside him, then lay her head against his shoulder as he sat on the bed, her hand on his lap. Brushing her hair out of the way, he kissed her once again.
“You have the softest fuckin’ skin…”
“When you speak, you make my entire body vibrate, Savage. I finally figured out who you remind me of.”
“Who?”
“You sound just like Sam Elliott, you know that? He has a slight twang to his voice. You don’t, but that’s really the only difference. I imagine if thunder could talk, it would sound much like you.” He kissed her forehead.
“I’ve heard that I sound a little like him a few times in my life.” He grabbed the condom from the dresser where he’d set it and sheathed himself, then straddled her and hooked her long legs over his shoulders. Their eyes locked as he grabbed his erect dick and slid it all the way inside her like a runaway train. He couldn’t help but smile, getting off on the way her face twisted from the ruthless intrusion and pleasure he was determined to deliver. He delighted in how he took her damn breath away with each rough pump of his hips.