I lifted my face to the sky, searching for a shooting star or some sign that someone was looking out for me. Tiberius gripped me tighter, squeezing my waist, reminding me he was my sign. My truth.
“You are breaking free,” he said softly, “just doing it on your own terms. I loved my momma, but I learned a long time ago that just ’cause someone gives a sperm or some shit like that, it doesn’t mean love. My dad, he’s in the rearview, and I’m sorry, babe, but you got to put your parents there too.”
I turned in his arms to face him. “What about us?” I asked while staring down at his sweatshirt, imagining the lines and definition of his chest beneath it.
“We’re gonna be good, Rex, if you stop running.” His voice turned dark as he added, “After I find this Coach Smith and fuck him up.”
“Don’t, Ty,” I whispered.
“I am. I will.”
He didn’t let me answer because he kissed me. Hard. He brought his hands around my back, pulling me close, taking my mouth and swiping his tongue through my lips in one stroke. His erection pressed against me, searing through my clothes, but this wasn’t about that. Not yet.
“I don’t want you to get hurt,” I whispered against his lips.
“I won’t, but he will, babe,” he mumbled back before deepening the kiss. He lifted the blanket, tightening it around my back, yanking me even closer to him. We continued to make out, tasting, licking, consuming, and making up for lost time.
I broke free, trying to catch my breath. “I’m sorry,” I said as I leaned my forehead into his and closed my eyes.
“Shoulda come to me.” He gripped my butt, drawing me closer. We were one; there was no difference in where my body stopped and his began.
My eyes screwed shut, I mumbled against his shirt, “I’ve messed up everything in my life. I didn’t want to make a mess for you.”
“Open your eyes, T,” he said, and I looked up to find his blue eyes searching mine. “You didn’t mess shit up in your life. Your parents did. Leaving me could’ve messed shit up, but it didn’t because I fought for you. It’s time you fought for what you want and stop trying to shock everyone around you into submission. Be the extraordinary person you are, Rex.”
I ran my nose along his, giving him Eskimo kisses like a romantic fool. “Extraordinary? I thought you believed in being overly ordinary.”
“There’s always exceptions to the rules, and you’re one of them.” He ran his lips across my cheek, whispering his words along my skin until he bit my ear lobe for emphasis.
My tongue lingered along his jaw, my teeth sinking in for effect, and a moan rumbled from deep in his chest.
“Not time for slow,” he demanded, taking my mouth back in a brutal kiss.
Our tongues dueled, seeking control. I ran my hands up his chest, gripping his shirt and holding on for dear life, and then I tempered my actions. Tracing his lips, I circled his mouth before entering again.
“Slow is good,” I said, my words vibrating through both of us.
He nodded. “When we have all the time in the world in front of us, it is. Are you going to keep running?”
“No.”
“Good. It’s cold; let’s get you back to my place and warm you up in the shower.”
Looking up at him, I shook my head. “I don’t want to go back. I want to stay here forever, in our little forest where no one can mess anything up. Where my parents can’t find us, and the guys can’t tease us, and my roommates can’t hound us, and . . . ugh, Stacy. I forgot. She needs me to get back.”
I lost my train of thought as Tiberius kissed me again passionately, pulling me tight against him. He held the blanket with one hand and slipped the other underneath to unzip my coat, then roam down my side and under my shirt. His rough hand caught on the lace of my bra, his calluses from dribbling warring with the gentle fabric, until he slipped his hand under the cup and against my naked skin.
I loved the roughness of his palm coasting along my smooth breast; the friction added a whole new sensation. I brought one leg up and hitched it around his waist, hooking it around his ass to bring my heat closer to his erection.
“Ah,” I moaned down his throat as our tongues continued to dance.
“T? You good?” he asked.
“Uh-huh,” I murmured. “More.”
He pinched my nipple, sending ripples shooting through my belly and my core, traveling down to my toes. His finger continued to draw circles around my hard nipple, then he moved lower. His pointer finger traced down my abdomen, stopping and doing a little figure eight at my belly button before tracing the waistband of my pants. He dipped in, edging my panties away from my skin, teasing and taunting me with his slow seduction.
I was burning up in the blanket; my skin was covered in prickly heat. Using my foot on his behind, I gave myself some leverage to push myself closer, desperately trying to get some friction where I needed it.
Of course, he put his hand on my ass and stilled my movement. Holding me in place, not allowing me to grind against him, he started walking toward the nearby pavilion, his feet carrying us across the flooring as I swung my other leg up. He unwound the blanket, never letting go of me, my legs still wound around his middle and my arms over his shoulders. Placing the blanket over the wood chips, he laid us down on top of it.
If I closed my eyes, I could almost imagine the lights trimming the overhang the night we first really talked at the party. Even without them, this moment was nearly perfect. It would be made better if Tiberius were inside me, but I could tell he was in one of his “slow” moods.
He leaned over me, his frame held up on his forearm as his lips hovered a breath away from mine. “No more running, no more believing strangers?” he asked, his lips brushing mine with his words.
“No,” I said. “Please kiss me.”
And he did. Then he lifted my shirt, sliding it over my head before he lowered his body a bit more to shield me from the cold air and share his body heat with me. He moved his mouth lower, taking a road trip down my body, stopping to make side trips down my terrain. He ran his tongue along my clavicle, licked and sucked my nipples, and traced meaningless yet reverent patterns on my belly. He would stop every so often to blow cool breath over the heated trail he already laid, making goose bumps and ripples of want rise to the surface in equal measure. Then he would begin his travels all over again.
I nearly climbed out of my skin from the delicious frustration of it all. Tiberius was on a luxurious vacation, and I wanted a quick getaway. But I knew better than to push my luck; Tiberius would get what he wanted and at the end of the day, I’d admit that taking our time was better. It was like getting a green card to stay and work and play versus only a passport.
Finally, he arrived at the top of my pants and traced his tongue along the waistband. “Tingly,” he let out on an exhale. My name sounded perfect rolling off his tongue. “You ready?”
I lifted my hips, signaling I wanted him to pull my pants off. He shimmied them down and pushed my panties to the side, allowing his tongue to leisurely course over me. He went up one fold and down the other, taking each run with infinite focus and care. I lifted my pelvis, hinting, begging—whatever it took to get him to go where I wanted. He didn’t rush, though, building my sense of urgency and need, and then he softly landed on my clit. When he flicked his tongue over my most sensitive spot, I moaned out loud, disregarding the fact that we were outside where anyone could bear witness to my ecstasy. It was a loud, luxuriating moan followed by another.
“Like that?” he teased.
His words rumbled over my core, ratcheting me even higher, and I came. My body burst into a million flames in the middle of a cold field during winter in Ohio. I may as well have been at the equator.
I tugged on his sweatshirt, which he was unfortunately still wearing, and motioned for him to move back up. I slid my hands under the fleecy fabric, pulling it over his head as he made his way up. His mouth came back to mine, fusing our lips. I tasted myself on
his tongue, commingled with some type of spearmint from earlier. I sucked on the tip of it, wanting to get drunk on the mixture.
I’d always been a sexual person, but it had mostly been about the forbidden aspect of it, the satisfaction of doing it with someone I shouldn’t be doing it with in a place we shouldn’t have been. It wasn’t sensual or meaningful. This was different. Every touch, each movement was filled with passion and partnership. We were equals, lovers, friends, taking our time, not beating a stopwatch or dashing to the finish line before our parents walked in. This was the definition of the truth. La vérité.
“Je t’aime,” I whispered.
“English, T,” Tiberius growled. “You could’ve just told me that was the worst pussy eating you ever had.”
“I love you,” I said, laughing. “I said ‘I love you.’ For the record, the French lick or graze pussy, as in ‘brouter le minou.’ And for what it’s worth, that was incredible pussy licking.” It was the dirtiest and most forthright I’d been with Tiberius, but it didn’t feel silly or spoken only for the sake of being dirty. It was sexy and uninhibited with a person who I loved.
“Your moaning made that pretty clear,” he joked back.
I couldn’t help but burst out into giggles, but it didn’t last for long. Tiberius used his free hand to push his pants down—thank God for track pants. His boxer briefs went off with them, and he was totally naked, braced over me. I reached out to stroke him, his length long and rigid in my palm. My thumb brushed over his tip and his hips jerked forward, his dick pressing into my hand. I used the moisture to coat him and stroke him a few more times before he slid his hand on top of mine, stopping my movement.
“T, stop, I want inside you,” he bent and whispered in my ear. With his hand over mine, we guided him into me.
As we fit together as one, I finally understood what Tiberius had tried to convince me about the physical act of fucking feeling way better when the heart was involved. His had been involved for a long time now, and now mine was too. I hadn’t believed it before when he’d said it had to mean something, but now I did.
Everything was better when it meant something.
We didn’t linger much longer in the cold that day after we made love, but we did hide out in Tiberius’s townhouse for a day and night before sitting down with the guys and filling them in about Coach Smith.
Tiberius was dead set on some sort of crazy revenge against the guy who’d impersonated his coach, and he wanted the whole squad on the lookout for the man. Jamel was fit to be tied over it all, and Trey punched a wall. After all, he’d had to live with Tiberius for the few weeks we were apart. Ginny and Chey had joined us for the chat, so I could fill everyone in at once. Ginny cried, and Chey decided she was “gonna kick some white ass.”
We were all sitting around Jamel’s condo, the music going in the background, pizza boxes and empty soda and beer bottles lining the table, when Jamel asked, “Where’s Stacy? She know what happened?”
“You know what? She’s been a real pain in the ass lately. Moody, weepy. I’m sick of her.” Chey rolled her eyes. “Ask Tingly . . . Stacy’s been sleeping in her room for a week,” she added as she glared at me.
Of course, Chey knew what was up; Stacy had told her as planned. She was simply playing Jamel with this conversation. And putting the onus on me.
Jamel turned his gaze toward me, raising an eyebrow, silently asking if I knew they had slept together.
“Dude, what do you give?” Lamar asked, his hand drifting over his braids.
Tiberius put his arm around me, pulling me tight into his side. “Yeah, what gives?”
Uncomfortable at being put on the spot, I stared at the carpet and shrugged. “She’s had a lot going on, I think. She doesn’t need this put on her . . . all my shit.”
Jamel dropped the subject until everyone was busy cleaning up, and then he sneaked up behind me while I was closing a garbage bag. “You gonna come clean? Tell me what’s going on?”
“Don’t, Jamel. Let it go,” I said, but it was wishful thinking.
“Ya know ’bout us, right?” he said in a low voice. “We had a few nights. She want more or what? Is that it?”
He’d cornered me in the small kitchen, making me extremely uncomfortable. I was leaning against the counter when he grabbed the garbage bag and threw it down before leaning close to me. Tiberius was involved in some game on the Xbox, otherwise he would have gone into attack mode.
“I’m helping T take the garbage out,” Jamel yelled before dragging me outside.
As soon as we got outside, he asked, “She want more? She pining for more of this?” He ran his hand up and down his body. “I don’t do that. Got my lady back home. Here is just . . . fun and shit. Ball babies and groupies, ya know that, right?”
“Jamel, I’m not in a position to judge.” I snatched the garbage bag from his hand and walked toward the Dumpster.
“It’s different with Tiberius,” he said from behind me. “I’m not him, but he’s not into ball babies. If that’s what you’re worried about.”
“I’m not,” I said, the slamming of the Dumpster drowning the agitation in my voice. I turned and brushed past him, marching back to the townhouse, afraid I was going to cave and tell him everything.
“Then what’s the big fucking deal?” he called after me. “She knows I don’t really do seconds and shit, and she had me a few times.”
I stopped in my tracks on the little pathway back to the door and turned to stare Jamel down. Funny how I was so scared of him the first time we met, and now I was the one with the upper hand. “She got knocked up, Jamel.”
His eyes grew wide. “What’d you just say?”
“She was pregnant.”
“Was? What do you mean was? How the fuck do you know it’s mine?” he said through clenched teeth.
I sighed, knowing I had to tell him the rest. “She was pregnant with your baby, and now she’s healing. On her own. That’s what I know.”
“Fuck, that bitch had no right!” he yelled. “That’s my baby!” Turning, he took off running up the hill.
I should have felt guilty for sharing a secret that wasn’t mine to tell, but I didn’t. Stacy had gone to Tiberius and told him about Coach Smith, and we’d worked it out because of her. Jamel wouldn’t care what was wrong with Stacy or if she wanted more if he didn’t have feelings for her. Maybe they’d work something out.
I hoped.
The next day I woke up, got a ride to the mall, and used a little of my funds to buy a disposable phone and a new cell phone complete with a different number. My preference would have been to wait a few days to do what I had to do, but I knew if my parents didn’t call off this Smith guy, Tiberius would go after him.
The guys were already making plans for a setup. They wanted me to go to a game and wait for Smith to approach, then keep him occupied until the end of the game when I could deliver him to them.
I wasn’t doing that. No way was I risking Tiberius getting hurt or in trouble. The whole fiasco with Logan was enough; I didn’t want the team defending me anymore.
So I called my parents using the disposable. My dad answered on the second ring using his pompous, professional greeting, probably since I’d blocked my number so it would show up on his caller ID as PRIVATE.
“Colt Simmons.”
“Dad, it’s me.”
I paced the length of my small bedroom as Chey and Tiberius sat on my bed, nodding their heads in a steady beat of encouragement.
“Why are you calling from a strange number?”
“Listen, Dad, I changed my number again. I don’t want you to try to get it or contact me or hand deliver any past lovers to my door. I’ve met with a lawyer. The trust is secure and in my name, and there’s nothing you can do to get your hands on it, so you may as well leave me alone.”
“Tingly,” he growled through the small flip phone.
“I’m serious, Dad. Tell Mom too. I appreciate what you all did for me growing up—whatev
er that was despite all your little antics—but this last stunt was something. Words don’t even describe it.”
“What stunt? I don’t even know what you’re talking about,” he shouted.
“Coach Smith and his little ploy to get me away from Tiberius.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Plus, I thought you were done with that ni—boy.”
“What were you going to say, Dad? Speak up! Did you forget the polite and proper politically correct version of yourself for a second?”
My eyes welled up with tears, but despite the conflict ensuing over the phone, they were happy tears. I was taking control, and it felt good. In the past, I’d acted—ignoring calls, changing phones, and switching brokers—but had never spoken. It was time I spoke up for myself.
“Tingly, you need better than that sports player. On scholarship.”
“I’m on an athletic scholarship!” I screamed.
Chey stood and came to put her arm around me, while Tiberius sat on the edge of the bed with his fists clenched.
“Nothing matters what you say now, Dad. This is over. Whatever you, Mom, and I were is O.V.E.R.” I spelled out the last word for emphasis, and as each letter rolled off my tongue, my resolve strengthened.
“You’re making a B.I.G. mistake,” my dad said, mocking my spelling out words.
“No, you did when you sent the mysterious Coach Smith to see me. Didn’t you think I’d find out that there is no Coach Smith?”
He didn’t let me finish my tirade. Not Colt Simmons, he had to get the last word. “So what if I sent him? I was trying to do you a big favor. Good-bye, Tingly,” he said, and hung up without another word.
I threw the damn phone into the wall and the case cracked. Hurrying over to where it fell, I stomped on it, crushing the last remnant of any relationship with my parents. Then I started laughing hysterically, bent over in full-on giggles, while Chey stood behind me, rubbing soothing circles on my back.
Tiberius stood up to gather me in my arms. “It’s okay. I got her,” he said, dismissing Chey, then he turned to me, his voice soft. “Rex, sit down, babe. You’re going through something.”
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