“We can't just fuck all the time,” I tell him, not because I want to start a fight or anything but because I have to distract myself from his hard body. I swear, the man never works out, but he manages to keep a fucking six pack and pecs like rocks. His arms are colorful swarms of brightness, fluttering over the rounded curves of his bicep and blending into the winged flock across his upper back. When he comes to me, I run my fingers over the back of his neck and the tattoo that's there, branding him as mine. Never say Never. I smile. “We do have to think about practical things once in a while.”
“Really?” he asks, brushing a kiss along my jaw and rolling over me, landing on the bed next to me, erection pointing up at the ceiling, begging me to grab on and take control of it. But tonight, Ty doesn't want me to take control. Just by looking in his eyes, I can tell. “Says who?” I watch as he rips open the package and pulls out the condom, giving it a distasteful glare before he slips it into his cock. I watch, mesmerized, and he knows it. My eyes narrow, but they don't stray.
“You know,” I say, ignoring his question. He knows what has to be done. I can't doubt that. Ty won't let anything happen to our new family. I'm not a sniveling, little bitch who's incapable of taking care of herself, but at the same time, I know Ty has that old school responsibility thing going on. He's a real man and he'll take care of us like a real man should. I just hope I can match up to him and be a real woman for our family. As of now, I think I'm falling short. “If you hadn't been so opposed to these things,” I flick my fingers in the direction of his dick, but I don't touch it, not yet. I'm already soaked down there and my thighs are rubbing against one another in anticipation. “We wouldn't have had a baby ten months after meeting each other in a seedy bar.” Ty laughs at me and strokes his hand down his shaft, using the lube from the condom to keep it nice and slick. My tongue runs across my lower lip.
“Then I guess we made a good decision, huh?” Ty slides his hand over my belly and grabs the underwear, picking them up with a single finger. “Now be a good girl and put your panties on.”
“Go to hell,” I tell him, but I stand up, enjoying this feeling of being sexy for Ty, of being free. I strip my shirt and bra off, drop my jeans to the floor. While Ty pleasures himself, I change out my boyshorts for the crotchless panties. “These are fucking ridiculous, you know?” I tell him. He darts forward suddenly and grabs me by the wrist, pulling me onto the bed and rolling on top of me in a single motion. His bracelets jingle as he reaches out and switches off the lamp.
“Oh come on, Never,” he whispers in the sudden darkness, leaning down, breathing against my forehead. “You know you like them. Easy access, right?”
“Easy access would mean going commando, Ty.”
“Oh, I see, that's how it is,” he growls at me as he reaches his hands up and caresses my swollen breasts. It's an almost painful pleasure – they're so sore and full and tender. I groan and grab onto Ty's hair, tugging it hard and drawing a moan from his throat. “You're going to school me on this shit.”
“Doubtful,” I tell him as he kisses one nipple and then the other. I have to swallow three times before I can speak again. “I've never used a cock ring before.”
“Good,” he says, and he rises up on his elbows and looks down at me. I can't see much of his face in this light, but I can feel him. He's a part of me now, a missing piece I never knew I was looking for until I found it. “I was about to get jealous and you don't want to see me jealous.” I kiss his lips, taste his hot heat, pierce myself on the thorns of his heart and hope his poison kills me. “You're mine and there's nobody on this fucking earth that can change that,” he tells me, moving down, pressing his lips against my stomach, biting my belly button ring and tugging on it gently with his teeth. Then he pauses and sits up, grabbing the cock ring and ripping open the package.
I watch as he stretches it wide with his fingers, the thinning, gray light from outside highlighting his hand for a brief moment before it disappears into the shadows as he slips it onto his cock.
“You might like this at first,” he says, and I don't need to see the smirk on his face to know it's there. “But you might regret suggesting it to me later.”
“And why's that?” I ask as Ty grabs me by the hips and turns me over, pressing his hardness against me, teasing that tender spot that's highlighted by the black lace that's cupping my ass cheeks on either side. It's hard to sound ornery when your butt is up in the air and your hands are clenched tight around the sheets, but I try.
“This, my sweet, baby mama, is a magical device. With this motherfucker wrapped around my cock, I can keep it up all night.” And then he thrusts forward, not being so gentle this time. I cry out, but I don't tell him to stop; I can't. I want this; I want it so bad it hurts. I'm not going to admit it to anyone but myself, but all these weeks of McCabe being gentle with me have left me … wanting. I'm glad that he's sweet, but I also like his sour. I want to lick it off like a fucking Sour Patch Kid.
When I try to move my right hand to my clit, he reaches down and grabs my wrist, traps it in his ringed fingers and slams it into my lower back.
“Oh no,” he says, voice harsh and guttural, laced with pain. What the fuck? “You're not touching that, not yet. You don't want to finish too fast.” And then he proceeds to fuck me so hard that it hurts, that I almost ask him to slow down, almost. Until I realize why he's doing this and what's wrong. I scared him today, when he asked me if I was happy. Before, I asked Ty McCabe if he would run, if he would go off and fuck somebody behind my back, leave me. I never thought to wonder if he had the same fears about me. He may not even know why he's doing this, but I do. Ty is afraid, and I don't blame him.
“I love you,” I tell him instead, and he pauses, freezes there with his body buried inside of mine, his hand pinning my wrist to my back.
“Still?” he asks. He doesn't let his voice change with the question, but I can feel the slight clench of his body, the contraction of his muscles.
“Always.” Ty slides out of me and releases my arm, sitting back on his ankles. I turn over and look up at him, reaching for his neck, sighing when he presses his head into my throat.
“Fuck,” he says, and he sounds hurt. Maybe a little uncomfortable, too. He does have a silicone ring wrapped around his erection after all, and I know it's not easy to stop. My body is screaming at me, begging me to ask Ty for another baby, for him to tear off his condom and spill himself in me. “Never, fuck,” he says. And then he enters me, slides into the slickness and just holds there. “I didn't mean this for you. I didn't want you to have a hard life. I thought I was making up a good one for you.”
“Ty,” I begin, but he isn't ready to listen to me talk yet, doesn't know that my problems are all bone deep, started a long, long time ago when my father was taken away and my family chose not to believe me. It's not easy to have self-worth when you're not valued. Things are better now, yes, but the scars remain. I've come a long way, but I still have roads to travel, mountains to climb.
“Never,” he says as I tangle my hands in his hair, squeeze him so tight that he grunts, body clenching as mine pulses around him, draws him in deep. “Whatever you need, you let me know, and I'll get it for you. I'll do fucking anything for you. I'll wade through knee-deep shit to make you happy. You know that, right?” Tears sting my eyes, but I don't respond. The only person that can get me through my newest set of bullshit is me. But if I tell Ty this, it'll freak him out. I keep it to myself, and use my grip on his hair to pull his lips to mine. When we kiss, I make him a promise with my mouth that this has nothing to do with him, that I love him more than breath, more than life, more than existence. I tell him without words that I'd rather blink out and become nothing than lose him.
But things will still be hard, and they'll still suck, and we'll still fight. We just have to get through the downs and live for the ups. I'm ready for the run; it'll be the little details that fuck me.
6
After Ty and I are finished, we
lay in silence and smoke, watching curls of gray tease the tin ceiling and creep along the edges where the walls meet up with it. This time, I'm the one that gets out of bed and checks on Noah. I do it because I think Ty's starting to worry that I don't like our son, and that's not it at all. It's just … weird. I don't think I was ready to be a mother, but I am one, and I have to get used to it.
I stand there with one hand on the edge of the crib, the other holding an unlit cigarette and feeling guilty for it. I've never felt guilty about smoking before, not really. But Noah makes me feel bad about it. It's not like I ever actually smoke around him, but I can't help but wonder if each cig I smoke is a day I lose with my son.
I touch my fingers to his cheeks and watch his chest rise and fall, dressed up in a fuzzy blue jumper. Tears bite at my eyes again, and I feel sick with myself.
“Never,” Ty says, gliding into the room on silent feet. He wraps his arms around my waist, teasing my nostrils with the smell of tobacco. “Please don't be sad.”
“I'm not,” I tell him. “Well, not all the time. I'm just … I feel really emotional right now. It's probably just hormones. I'm about to start my period.” I pull my hand away from Noah and turn to see the skeptical look on Ty's face. I'm failing again, and it sucks. I don't want him to feel the way he's feeling. I'm such a fucking cunt, stealing away the joy in Ty's eyes when he's with his kid. Any displeasure I show around Noah will make Ty resent him, and I could never, ever do that. But I know I'm first in his eyes, always. And it isn't cruel; it's just right. Parents should love each other more than they love their kids, should be there to create a solid foundation for them to stand out, so that when they go out in the world they know there are two people who will do anything for them. I want Noah to know what a good relationship is like, and I want him to find one. Ty is my prize. He is my win. He's the one thing I wanted to get out of this life.
“I'm going to take a piss,” I tell him and he laughs, voice echoing around the quiet house. Outside, the rain's started up again. We waves his hand at me, jingling his bangles around in a mimicry of the wind chimes that are screaming in the wind in our backyard.
“That's hot, Nev, thanks for sharing that with me.” I don't mention that he already has another erection.
In the bathroom, I sit down on the toilet and notice absently that the bag of items from the store is sitting on the counter. The pregnancy tests and the tampons are sticking out of the plastic, teasing me like a cruel joke. I don't know that quite yet. All I fucking know is that I'm going to try to be more responsible, be a fucking adult. So I grab the flowery box and pull out a test, sticking it underneath me for the hell of it. Just to see it turn negative, to know that we're okay.
I set the plastic stick on the counter and grab my toothbrush, spreading a line of minty gel on the top and thanking the universe that I don't have to use a miswak anymore. Fuck you, Angelica, I think as I brush my teeth and stand up, flushing the toilet and spitting into the sink. I pick up the pregnancy test and glance absently at it.
My eyes go wide; my heart stops.
Right. Fuck. I don't really know why I'm surprised. I guess I sort of assumed that getting pregnant a few weeks after you gave birth was not a possibility. What a sick, sick joke for the universe to play. It's perverse. Mental. Fucked.
My pulse races so hard that I get dizzy and end up sitting on the floor.
You think you'd have learned by now, Never. You don't use a condom, you have a baby. God, you're awfully ignorant for someone who's fucked like, a hundred people. Get it together, woman.
I lean over the toilet and throw up. The stick hits the floor and bounces a few times before coming to rest in the shadows.
“This is not happening,” I whisper to myself, voice echoing around the porcelain bowl. A second later, Ty bursts in looking worried. When he sees me bent over, he kneels down and touches his hand to my forehead. I'm soaked in sweat, just dripping.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” he says in his stupid freaking stud way. I knew it. I knew a look from that man could get me pregnant. Screwing him without a condom is just asking trouble. I'm surprised Noah was part of a sextuplet or something. I grip the seat hard and do my best not to think about the way it looked when we first cleaned it out – covered in fucking feces, filled to the brim with cat litter. My stomach roils again. “Are you alright? Should I call an ambulance? I'm calling an ambulance.” Ty stands up and tries to move away, but I grab him around the ankle, my hand pale and slick.
“No,” I say, and my voice is firm, unwavering. Wouldn't that just be a peach? He calls 911 and asks them to come out because I'm having a panic attack about being pregnant. Ty pauses and squats back down behind me, sticking a cigarette in his mouth. Sometimes, I think he's even worse than me when it comes to smoking.
“You sure?” he mumbles, his cig dancing around and teases the flame of the lighter he produces in his hands. I'm not, but I don't tell him that. Yet. My hand drops to the tiled floor and fumbles around, searching for the test. Ty watches me, but he doesn't move.
“Ross,” he warns, but I ignore him, belly muscles clenching tight as I dry heave again. How attractive is this? Like it wasn't bad enough having him see me spread-eagled in stirrups at the hospital. One day, I'm going to run out of sexy tokens, and he's going to look at me and think, What the fuck? Tears start again which kind of just pisses me off. Which makes me cry more. I angry cry the shit out of that toilet and do my best not to scream. Well. Guess that means I'm not crazy. My mood swings are all thanks to Ty's seed. His fertile, fucking seed.
“I hate you,” I tell to him to which he responds by shrugging and falling back onto his ass. The smell of tobacco mixes with the scent of puke. I slam my hand down and flush the toilet.
“Let me guess,” he begins, and he's smiling even though it's not funny. Even though the last thing we need is another baby. I can barely handle the one. I start to panic. “Bad smoothie?”
“This isn't funny, Ty!” I scream as my fingers finally close around the test. I throw it at his face and don't even care that there's pee on it. Serves him right. I slump back against the cabinet and wrap my hands around my head. I don't want to be pregnant again. Being pregnant sucks unless you're Beth Regali. Stupid bitch. Tramping around and 'glowing'. I hate her.
Ty takes his cig out with his ringed fingers and picks up the test with his other hand. He looks at it for about five minutes before he speaks.
“Shit.”
That's all he says.
“You think?” I whisper, soaking the front of my shirt with liquid. I'm glad it's dark in here, so Ty can't see. I don't want him to see. Above all things, I want him to be happy. I just want to make him happy.
“This is for sure?” My head snaps up, and I throw him my worst glare. Doesn't phase him a bit. “These things aren't always accurate, right?” I keep staring. He can't see my face, but he can feel me. Ty always knows what I'm thinking. Sometimes it bugs me, feels like he's so deep in my head that my thoughts aren't just my own. Usually, I like it. Right now, I want to stab him with a miswak. Sorry, toothbrush. A sharp one.
“You're kidding, right?” I ask him. He's asking, but he doesn't seem surprised, not really. “And how is it you're not upset about this?” Ty looks at the test and takes a drag on his cig. When I crawl across the bathroom floor and try to snatch it from him, he keeps his fingers tight.
“Never.” I drop my hand with a groan and lean my head against his bare belly. I hear a fizzle and a plop as he tosses the cig into the toilet.
“We're so stupid,” I moan as Ty's hand strokes my hair softly. His bracelets tinkle with each movement, lighting up the room with a metallic chorus. “Like, on the verge of being mentally handicapped.”
“Nah, baby,” he says, pulling me into him, squeezing me tight. I still think he smells like danger, pain, heartache, but it's intoxicating, so I don't mind. “When we're around each other, we just get lost in each other. That's not a crime, is it?”
“I don't want
another baby.”
Ty thinks about this for a moment.
“Okay,” he tells me, but he doesn't sound sure. I snuggle into him hard, force him to hold me up, to take care of me. I feel bad, but it's been a long time since I had someone to do it, and he seems willing enough. I guess maybe I should be comforting him, too, but he doesn't seem upset. Oh yeah, and his tits don't hurt. I put two hands over my stomach and try to breathe. “Whatever you want, I'll be there for you.” I hear a frown in his voice. “But I can tell you a secret?”
“If it isn't about condoms, I don't want to hear it.”
Ty laughs at this.
“I like you being pregnant.”
“Oh, for fuck's sake,” I say. I try to sit up for maximum glaring capability, but he won't let me go. Ty will Never let me go. “You want me barefoot and pregnant, dropping babies across the floor as I clean?”
“Oh no, fuck that. All I'm saying is, I like knowing I've got all of you.”
“You'll always have all of me,” I tell him. The words sound lovey-dovey, but they're not. Right now, I'm just irritated. I do my best to keep the wetness of my tears off Ty's stomach, but a few stray ones fall anyway.
“I know. I just like the proof, you know? Makes me feel all manly and shit.”
“You're an asshole.”
“But an asshole that loves the fuck out of you.”
“I want an abortion.” Ty pauses for a moment, and I can tell he doesn't. But if that's what I want, he'll help me through it. I know he will. “Maybe. Or not. I don't know. I don't want to make this decision.”
“And for that, I really am sorry.” His voice is grave when he says this. A few silent moments pass before either of us speaks again. “But you're just so damn cute.” He's trying to make a joke. I appreciate that, but I don't laugh. I can't. Not when I'm this angry with myself. What's the saying? The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again, and expecting different results.
Never Can Tell Page 3