Truly

by Carmel Rhodes

  He wraps a hand around my throat, the other finds the slippery opening between my legs, and he growls. “I’d kill him and fuck you on his corpse. This is mine.” His fingers pump in and out of me. My body immediately responds to his harsh words and firm grip, as if it’s conditioned to respond to his violence.

  I stroke my hand up and down his shaft, equally as possessive, as he finger fucks me. “Then this is mine.”

  “Do you know what you’re agreeing to?”

  “You’ve stripped me naked and thrown me into the shower. I don’t think I have much of a choice in how I’m going to lose my virginity. At this point, I don’t even mind parting with it, but I will not be a number in your line up. If you’re fucking me, then you’re fucking only me.”

  “No more texts to Devin. Block him,” he shoots back, his pace quickening.

  That familiar pull starts to build low in my belly and I have to focus on getting out the words in response. “Fine,” I agree without hesitation. I should have blocked him when he dumped me at graduation, but I guess I’d always been a bit of a masochist.

  Noah’s mouth crashes against mine and I open for him, sealing our deal with a kiss so consuming it leaves me gasping. My arms fly around his neck and I pull him down, wanting more. Noah doesn’t disappoint. He lifts me by my ass, pushing my back against the cold tile, deepening the kiss further. It’s like our mouths are fused. Our lips dance to the chaotic rhythm only we can hear.

  We stay that way until the water runs cold. Noah turns off the shower and carries me to the bed. Our wet bodies land on top of the comforter, as he lifts my legs over his shoulders, his head ducking down, his mouth latching onto my clit without preamble. He sucks hard and my back arches off the bed. Fire builds in my belly. Noah’s mouth continues its assault. He licks long laps from the base of my pussy up to my clit and repeats, bringing me so close to the edge so quickly, I’m not sure my body can handle falling over.

  “Noah, stop.” I moan, trying to crawl away. It’s too much, too fast. He ignores my cries. My body twists in pleasure as he adds two fingers, fucking me with them. My legs begin to shake. My eyes roll back. My skin tingles as I come so hard, it feels like I’m shattering into a million tiny pieces.

  He crawls up my body, lining up his cock with my entrance. The cocky bastard smirks at me. “You’re quivering.”

  “Because you’re about to fuck me,” I pant, trying to catch my breath. Trying to brace myself for what’s coming.

  He shakes his head, resting his weight on his elbow, and thrusting forward with one painful motion. I cry out as pain sears my insides. “I am fucking you.”

  Despite the orgasm and him stretching me with his fingers, it feels like I’m being split in two. In a lot of ways, I am. Two Trulys, old and new. Old Truly belonged to Devin. She hid from the monsters and buried her pain. New Truly runs towards the monsters at full speed. New Truly has Noah’s name imprinted on the most intimate parts of her soul.

  Dragging my nails down his back, I moan as he pumps pain and pleasure and damnation inside of me for what feels like hours. “Mine,” he grits, fucking me senseless, boneless.

  Noah collapses on top of me, filling me so completely with his seed it drips down my thighs.

  “Yours,” I whisper, finally, reverently, giving in to the monster.

  Melody

  August 1994

  I had my first orgasm on Bourbon Street. Momma, if you’re reading this, 1. Shame on you for snooping and 2. I don’t mean in a sexual way. I’ve never had an orgasm from sex, much to Stephan Murry’s displeasure. At least I don’t think I have? Sis says I would know.

  Well, I knew on Bourbon Street.

  The source of my immense pleasure?

  Rich.

  Golden brown skin.

  Hot like sin.

  Sweeter than a Georgia peach.

  The deep-fried goodness known as a beignet.

  Lord Jesus, if it’s one thing they know how to do right in Nola, it’s food.

  I’ve gained five pounds eating beignets alone, not to mention the jambalaya, etouffee, gumbo, shrimp and grits. GOOD LORD, I never wanna leave.

  Maybe I can skip this whole college thing and move to Louisiana. I can get a shrimp boat, like Forrest, make millions of dollars and have endless orgasms.

  What do you think, Diary? Sounds like a solid life plan, right?

  Yes, I’m still mad about that damn movie.

  The next morning, I awake with a hollowness between my legs, and Noah’s massive body draped over mine. I feel different. The core of me is the same, but everything else has changed. It’s like Noah filled me with more than semen.

  Careful not to wake him, I lift his arm and roll out of bed, making my way to the bathroom to assess the damage. I look the same—dark brown eyes, wide nose, brown skin. The same plump lips rest upon my face, maybe a little bruised from Noah’s brutal kisses, but they’re the same, nonetheless.

  What’s most surprising though is what’s missing. Shouldn’t shame be present in the light of day? Shouldn’t I hate myself for giving Noah, in less than a week on the road, what I hadn’t given Devin in two years? Then there’s what happened that night in the treehouse. I’m not over it. Sometimes—in my dreams—I can still see that look in his eyes. I can still feel the pressure of his cock at the back of my throat, and I wake up in a panic. But then I see him, and he flashes me his cocky smirk and says something that makes me laugh, despite my best efforts, and I think, maybe he isn’t all bad. I’d like to say I’ve learned to compartmentalize the trauma of that night, but I’m not so sure. I think it’s more like I’m fucked in the head. Like maybe he is my punishment for what happened to my mother. For the part I played in her death.

  How else can I explain this predicament I’m in with one brother owning my heart, while the other owns my body? More importantly, what does that leave me with, aside from a brain that’s wired wrong?

  I turn on the shower and let the hot spray wash over my sex-sore muscles. Becca’s words from yesterday replay in my head. She’s right. I don’t have to have all this figured out today. Noah’s here, and despite the bouquet of red flags he’s offering like roses, I haven’t run away. I won’t. He’s charming when he’s not being a total dick, and maybe this new arrangement will keep the dark side of him at bay.

  I squirt a glob of Noah’s body wash on my rag and rub until a thick foam appears. Taking special care over my sensitive parts, I run the cloth over my entire body, twice. His scent mixes and mingles with mine, wrapping me in an odd sort of comfort. Once I’m clean, I turn off the water and grab a towel. Since Noah dragged me to his room last night before I had the chance to change, I put my dress back on. His Jameson hoodie hangs off the back of a chair. I pull it over my head. At least now it looks less like I’m taking a walk of shame, and more like I have an odd sense of style. Slipping into my heels, I grab my purse and search for my cell, before I slide soundlessly out the door.

  Me: Beignets and girl talk?

  Becca: *yawn emoji* as long as there’s coffee. I’m down.

  She meets me in the lobby a few minutes later, sporting a pair of oversized sunglasses and a massive hangover. “You look like you got hit by a bus,” I tell her as we link arms and make our way to the small café across the street from our hotel.

  “I feel like I got hit by a bus.” She glances at me, assessing me behind the dark lenses. “Something’s different.”

  “Everything’s different.”

  We jog across the street, A bell chimes above our head as we push our way inside. The café is small, and like most of the buildings on this side of town, it has an old school charm. We walk through rows of white cast iron tables and chairs, back to the counter to place our order. An older black woman with silver hair and eyes that remind me of my nana greets us. “Welcome to Café Mont Pier,” she greets us with a thick creole accent. “What can I get y’all?”

  “I’ll have a coffee, extra cream and sugar,” Becca orders, then thumbs to me. �
�She’ll have hot chocolate, and we’ll take half a dozen beignets.”

  The woman makes our drinks and hands us a plastic number, telling us our pastries will be up soon.

  “Spill,” Becca says as soon as we sit. The street slowly comes to life just beyond the café window. Becca wraps her hands around her cup, although it’s already so hot outside I regret stealing Noah’s hoodie. “Tell me everything after Noah went all he-man alpha hole on that guy…who by the way, was a total hottie.”

  I stare out the window. I don’t know why I’m nervous to tell her I had sex with Noah. It isn’t like she knows about what happened at the graduation party. It isn’t like she’d judge me. But still, it’s a struggle to admit it out loud. “We argued. I told him he was a jerk for hanging out with that girl and that I didn’t want him to touch me,” I pause, taking a sip of my hot chocolate.

  “How long did that work out for you?” She grins knowingly.

  The waitress brings our beignets and we take a moment to dig in. The warm sweet dough melts in my mouth, and now I understand what Momma meant when she said these things were orgasmic. “About as long as it took for us to walk back to the hotel.”

  “And?” she asks, licking powdered sugar from her fingertips.

  “And then I told him he smelled like a whore and he needed to shower.” I sigh, picking up another beignet.

  “And then, Sayonara hymen?”

  I nod. “Do you think I gave in too easily?”

  “Do you regret it?” she asks.

  The bell on the door chimes and a couple walk in. I keep my gaze on them as I answer. “No, that’s what scares me. I made Devin wait two years.”

  Becca lifts a shoulder. “You weren’t ready then. You’re older and wiser and all that bullshit.”

  She has a point. When Devin and I first started dating, I was still so fucked up over losing my mom that sex was the furthest thing from my mind. “I guess.”

  “So.” She leans in. “How big is he?”

  “Becca?!”

  “What? I told you about Ethan.”

  “You volunteered that info. I didn’t ask.”

  “Semantics.” She lifts her coffee to her lips. “I heard his jump shot isn’t the only secret weapon in his arsenal, if you know what I mean.”

  “One, you sound like a pervy old lady. And B, it’s the first one I’ve ever seen outside of porn, so I wouldn’t know if it was big or normal sized,” I confess.

  Is Noah’s dick porno big?

  I chew it over for a second.

  Definitely.

  “Wait, you’ve never seen Devin’s?” She throws her sunglasses on the table and is full on gaping at me. “I mean, I knew you guys didn’t have sex, but you never like...blew him or even gave him a handie?”

  “No! I mean…no,” I say, feeling the burn of embarrassment heat my cheeks.

  “But you dated him for two years?!” Her eyes go wonky, like they do when she’s concentrating on her calc homework. It’s like my relationship is a differential equation.

  “Yeah, but like...I wasn’t ready, and then we sort of fell into this routine. I wanted to at prom, but it didn’t work out because he got drunk and passed out, and then graduation was…”

  “A hot ass mess.”

  “Exactly. So yeah, Noah is my first penis.”

  “Well, on a scale of micro peen to hung like a horse”—she lifts her hands, holding them a few inches apart, then widens them—“where is Mr. Tedesco?” I roll my eyes and adjust her hands accordingly. “Holy shit! TRULY! You put that thing in your virginal vag?”

  I throw the remainder of my beignet at her, looking around the café to see if anyone heard. Judging by all the scandalized eyes on our table, I’d say everyone heard. “Keep your voice down.”

  “I’m proud of you, Tru.” She grins. “Also, you are so gonna be pregnant.”

  “Fuck,” I groan, slapping my palm against my forehead.

  “What?”

  “We didn’t…I mean, condoms weren’t really discussed or used.”

  “Yeah, but didn’t Doc put you on the pill last year once he realized Devin wasn’t going away?”

  Also known as the most mortifying day of my life. Dad came home from work—this was back when he still worked at the clinic—and told me that if I was so hell bent on dating that boy, then I needed to be proactive. I told him we weren’t having sex, and he told me that Momma told Nana the same thing the night I was conceived. “Yes, but Noah is kind of a hoe, right? Shouldn’t I make him wear them?”

  She nods her agreement. “He’s a hoe, fo sho.”

  “Thanks, for making me feel better,” I mutter.

  She points her mug towards me. “That’s what I’m here for.”

  We finish up and head back to our hotel. I take a detour back to Noah’s room to deliver some beignets and return his hoodie. He answers the door without a shirt and my mouth goes dry. I hold up the bag. “I got you breakfast.”

  He takes it and grins, pulling me into the room by the collar of his sweatshirt. “I like you in my shit, Little One.” He sets the food on the nightstand and pushes me onto the bed.

  “Oh, no. I’m not staying. I’m gonna go back to my room and crash for a bit,” I tell him standing.

  He laughs and points to the corner. “You’re in your room.” I follow his finger to find my suitcase parked on the other side of the room. It’s only then I notice my bookbag on the table and my charger, electric purple and six feet long, plugged into the wall.

  “What did you do?” I narrow my eyes at him.

  “I’m not bunking with Ethan anymore,” he says, unfazed.

  “Cohabitation? Really, don’t you think it’s a little soon for that?”

  Noah pulls back the covers with a flourish, exposing the red stain on the white cotton. “I’d say the timing is just right.”

  “You’re a dick.” I plop down on the bed. I could make a big deal out of this and demand that Ethan switch me back, but even I know this is a battle I can’t win. I was the only one against co-ed bunks to begin with, and now that Noah and I have had sex, it makes sense. Still, I wish he’d have asked what I wanted before he packed up my shit and moved me down the hall. “And you don’t deserve those.”

  He snags the bag. “I made you come twice. I’d say I earned these.” He lifts one to his mouth. “So, what’s the plan after your nap?”

  “There is no real plan. I want to explore the city and eat everything. And Becca wants to get manicures.”

  “Chill day sounds cool to me,” he says, around a mouth full of fried dough. He deposits the bag back onto the nightstand and pulls me across his hard body, wrapping his arms around me. His hands slide up my dress and he cups my ass. “So long as I get you tonight.”

  A shiver runs through me as he palms me there.

  “You’re shaking.” His voice is thick and smoky. His dick twitching to life between us.

  I blink up at him. “I was worried you were about to stick your finger in my butt or something.”

  Noah chokes out a laugh. His head falls back and it clunks against the headboard. “That would be a first for me. But no, I wasn’t thinking of sodomizing you…this morning.”

  “Wait,” I say, ignoring the this morning part and focusing on the first bit. “You’ve never done butt sex? Is it possible, the great Noah Tedesco is a butt sex virgin?”

  “Cut me some slack, I’m only eighteen.” He gives my ass another squeeze. “But here’s to college.”

  My mouth quirks up. “I’ll pray for the poor girl who gets that honor...and her butt.”

  “We’re both going to be Cadets, so you should start praying for yourself…and your ass.”

  I snort. “You’re going to play basketball at a top ten school. Girls will be throwing themselves at you. I doubt my ass will even be on your radar after this trip, let alone next year.”

  My phone rings, Facetime. “That’s my dad,” I tell him, since Dad and Becca are the only two people who I ever Facetime
with. “Stay out of frame.”

  Noah rolls his eyes. “He knows we’re here.”

  “Knowing you’re here and seeing you shirtless in a hotel room alone with his daughter are two different things.”

  He shakes his head but backs out of frame. I slide my finger across the screen and put on my most virginal smile, hoping like hell my iPhone screen isn’t clear enough to show him my lost innocence. “Hi, Daddy.”

  “Hey, baby girl, how’s life on the road treating you?” He’s wearing his scrubs. Dark circles ring his brown eyes and judging by the background noise, I assume he’s still at the hospital.

  “It’s good.” I smile sadly at the screen. He’s the only parent I have left, and soon our entire relationship will revolve around Facetime calls and weekend visits home. This trip is only the beginning of this strange journey to adulthood. I thought I was ready to take on the world like Momma did, but deep down, I’m just a scared little girl that needs her daddy.

  “Everything okay?”

  “Yeah.” I nod, blinking back the unexpected emotion. I can feel Noah’s eyes on me from across the room, but I refuse to acknowledge him. I might break if I do. Then, I’ll have to explain to Dad why I’m blubbering like a toddler who’s being forced into a nap.

  “Are you happy? Do you want me to come pick you up?” His concern is palpable, even through the phone.

  “I’m in Louisiana.” My smile is genuine this time. That’s my dad, my hero. The man who uprooted his life in Chicago and took a huge pay cut to move to Georgia so that I could grow up with family. I don’t know what I did to deserve him, but I’m happy he’s mine.

  “I don’t care if you were on the moon, Tru. I’ll always come to your rescue.”

  “I know you would, that’s why I love you so much.”

  Noah chooses that moment to plop down on the bed behind me. My throat bobs up and down as I swallow the string of profanities sitting on the tip of my tongue. At least he put on a goddamn shirt. “I’m taking good care of her, Dr. Parker. He leans into the frame, wrapping an arm possessively around my shoulder.