Trashed (28 page)

“I want to taste you, Adam.” She leans even closer, her lips inches from me.

“Des…”

“I’ve never done it before, and I want to.”
 

My breath catches in my lungs as her lips wrap around the head of my cock. Her mouth is warm and wet and I can’t help a groaning exhale of bliss leave me as she bobs down ever so slightly. My head falls back on the couch and I force my eyes open to watch her. Her mouth is spread wide around me, her eyes raised to look at me.

She pulls back and I leave her mouth with a
pop
. “Was that okay?”

I laugh. “Anything you do is amazing, Des. Just don’t bite, and it’ll feel incredible.”
 

She moves back down, taking me into her mouth, her tongue swirling around my tip, tasting. Her hand is around the base, just holding, and then she strokes once and I unconsciously lift my hips. She lets out a sound of surprise, and then backs away, sucks once with her lips around the head, then lowers her mouth around me.

“Jesus, Des. You’re gonna have to stop soon.”

“Mmm-mmm—” She makes a negative sound, and then lifts her mouth off me, stroking me as she goes. “No way. You
really
like this, don’t you?”

“God yes.”
 

“More than fucking me?” she asks, and then her mouth is around me again and I can’t help groaning.

“Hell no.
Jesus
—!” The last is an exclamation of surprise as she sucks hard and lowers her mouth around me until I’m sure it has to be uncomfortable.
 

At that moment, I hear my front door open, and a small square package flies to land on the floor. I glance at it, and see that he’s bought extra small condoms. “Oliver, you asshole!” I try to sound normal.

I hear his rasping laughter and then another package flies through the foyer to land beside the first, this time a package of condoms that will actually fit me.
 

And then the door closes and he’s gone.
 

When she heard the door open, Des paused and glanced toward the opening, to make sure he wasn’t going to show up. Once she hears the door close, she gives me a wicked grin and takes me in her mouth again. And this time, she shows no mercy. Her fist flutters up and down at the root of my cock, and her lips slide around my girth, going down and down, and then back up, and up, and now she’s set a rhythm, slow and steady.
 

I’m having trouble holding still, holding back. “Des, stop.”
 

I pull at her, but she takes my hands in hers, tangles our fingers. Her eyes go to mine as she bobs her head, watching me. I try to pull my hands free, but she doesn’t release them, holding tight and fighting against my grip. Her eyes show humor briefly, and then she’s going down on me harder and faster, and I know I can’t hold back.

“Fuck, Des, I’m gonna come. You have to stop or I’m gonna—”

She pauses with her lips wrapped around the head and sucks hard, and I know it’s hopeless. She moves our joined hands to her head, places my palms on her hair, and then takes my root in her fist and cups my balls in her hands. I tug her ponytail from the elastic band and feather my hands through her black locks, holding it away from her face. She bobs again, stroking my base and sucking.
 

I’m gone.

I cry out, unleashing suddenly, unable to warn her again, and she makes a sound of surprise, but doesn’t stop or slow down. I feel myself explode in her mouth, and she keeps bobbing, keeps caressing my length, and then I hear her gulp and I’m exploding still, groaning and trying desperately not to thrust too hard.
 

And then I’m done and she’s letting me go, moving to straddle me, taking my face in her hands. “How was that?”

I blink up at her blearily, woozily. “Jesus, Des.” I rest my forehead against her mouth. “I wasn’t expecting that.”

“I know.”
 

“But it was…I can’t even move.”
 

She kisses me, and I taste myself on her, but I don’t care. She’s on top of me and I feel her core against my softening member, but her tits are brushing my chest and her mouth is insistent on mine and I’ve got her full hips in my hands, and I know it won’t be long before I’m ready for her, before I can take her the way I need her.

*
 
*
 
*

He stands up with me in his arms and carries me across the apartment, into the bedroom. Lays me down, plants a hand on the bed beside my face and kisses me while caressing my breast with his other hand.

And then he’s gone, but only for a moment, returning with the package of condoms.

My heart seizes, and my core goes damp.
 

But he’s not ready for that yet. He rips the box open, pulls one square free and sets it aside, then sprawls out on the bed beside me. His hands trace my ribs beneath my tits, down, and find the edge of one of my tattoos. His eyes go to mine, and I see the question.
 

I roll into him, resting a hand on his stomach, just above his nascent erection. “‘The ache for home lives in all of us, the safe place where we can go as we are and not be questioned,’” I recite. “Maya Angelou.”
 

He nods. “I saw it when you were sleeping. What’s it mean to you?”

I rest my head in the crook of his arm. “It’s just about…home. About belonging. I’ve never belonged anywhere. Growing up in the system, none of the placements ever lasted more than a year at most, so there was never home. Everywhere I lived, it was just a house. A place to sleep. So that’s what I’ve always wanted more than anything, is to feel safe, and…to have a home.”
 

He traces the tattoo on my hip. The scar beneath it. “And the scars the tattoos cover?”

I close my eyes and bury my face in his skin. His arms curl around me, shelter me. Protect me. “I was sixteen. I’d just been moved to a new family. The dad was…bad. Real bad. On disability, wasted all the time. Got violent. Usually he only went after his wife, but every once in a while, he’d go after their daughter. Her mom would get between the girl and the dad. But once…he hit his wife too hard, knocked her out. Michaela, the daughter, started screaming. He was just…crazed. I don’t even know what the fuck got into him. I think he was a Desert Storm vet or something, maybe it was a flashback? I don’t know. There was this extension cord on the table, an orange one. Michaela went after her dad, and he knocked her to the ground. Just laid her out. And he grabbed the cord, started hitting her with it. It was long, and he just had a doubled-over section of it, about three or four feet long. He started hitting ’Chaela with the cord, and I just couldn’t let him—I couldn’t. So I laid over her, covered her. And he just kept hitting. I’d just gotten out of the shower, and all I had on was a towel. The towel fell off, and he just—kept hitting me. I don’t think he even knew what he was doing. Maybe he did. I don’t know. Part of me thinks he did know what he was doing, because he kept hitting me in the same place, over and over, and then he’d hit in a different spot. Left those fun scars.”

“Fucking hell, Des.” Adam’s arms tighten, his lips touch my temple. “What stopped him?”

“A neighbor. Heard the screaming, realized it was worse than usual, I guess. It took the neighbor and three cops to get me off Michaela. I wouldn’t let go of her.”

“Des, god, babe.”
 

I lift up and look at him, let him see into my eyes. “It’s fine, Adam. It was a long time ago. And honestly, I’d do it again, if I had to. Michaela is just the sweetest girl you’d ever meet. I stayed there…for her, even after that..”

“
What?
” He gives me an incredulous look.

“He spent six weeks in jail, got probation, a tether, addiction counseling, mandatory AA, all that. My caseworker wanted to move me, but I refused. I was sixteen, so she could’ve insisted despite my protests. Before that, I didn’t care. It didn’t matter; one home was as good as another. But Michaela…she needed me. Her mom wasn’t much good on her best day. She needed a friend, and I was all she had.” I smile, thinking of Michaela. “I still visit her, sometimes. She was only five when that happened. She’s eleven now.”
 

“And you got the tattoos to cover the scars?”

“Sort of,” I answer. “But more out of a need to turn something that came from ugliness into something beautiful—more than because I was self-conscious about the scars or whatever. And that quote…I came I across it my senior year of high school. I was doing a paper on Maya Angelou, and I read a whole bunch of stuff she’d written. I came across that quote, and it just stuck in my head. It resonated with me on a really deep level. Maya, she
got
it, too. She had a hard life, and she turned all that pain into so much beautiful poetry.”

“So have you,” Adam says.

I glance at him. “How do you figure?”

He smiles, traces my lips with a thumb. “Just you. Who you are. The fact that you can be such a beautiful person despite all that you’ve been through, that’s poetry too, Des.”

“Jesus, Adam. You’re gonna make me cry.” I sniff.

“That wouldn’t bother me,” Adam says. “You don’t have to be strong all the time, you know. It’s okay to show weakness. To show emotion.”
 

I shrug. “It’s ingrained.”

“Un-ingrain it,” he says.

I can’t help but laugh. “Yeah, lemme just flip that switch real quick…”

Adam laughs with me, letting it go. He knows it’s not that easy. He brushes a lock of my hair out of the way. “Des? I have a question, and you have to answer it truthfully. You’re gonna want to dismiss it as stupid, but please don’t.”

I lean back to look at him. “Okay, I’ll try.”
 

He takes a deep breath and lets it out. “Why me?” I frown and open my mouth, but he covers my lips with his finger, and then traces my jawline, my lips, the column of my neck. “You’re a gorgeous woman, and as ill-fated as it was and as horrible as the industry can be, modeling has to have shown you that that’s not just my opinion. So why me? Why did you trust me? Why did you let me take your virginity?”

I don’t answer for a long time, thinking about my answer. “Number one, you didn’t
take
it, I
gave
it to you. Big difference to me. As for why you? You
saw
me. I’m not sure how to explain that. It’s like…you seemed to see who I was, who I am, and you treated me like I am worth wanting. You see what I hide. It’s not that anything I’ve experienced is a secret; it’s just that I don’t trust anyone enough to tell them. But you…I just
trusted
you, like instinctively or something. I still can’t explain why. I mean, I know
now
that you’re a strong and kind and understanding man and that you’re trustworthy, but I didn’t know that then. I
wanted
to trust you. And, honestly, that scared the fuck out of me. That was as much the reason I didn’t stick around the next morning as anything else. I couldn’t figure out why I’d trusted you, why I wanted you so badly. Or why you wanted me. None of it made any sense, and that just scared me.” I smooth my palm in idle, lazy circles on his torso. “You pursued me, like you just
had
to…have me, and that was like nothing I’d ever experienced before.”
 

“You’re so different from anyone I’m used to,” he says. “You’re honest. Not open necessarily, which I understand. You couldn’t be, not with the life you’ve lived. But you just are who you are. I saw a beautiful woman who knew herself, and was comfortable with herself, but she didn’t entirely comprehend her own beauty. It’s an intoxicating combination.” His fingers dance over my hip, and his eyes burn. “And also, I just plain lusted for you. I wanted you, and I intended to have you. I just didn’t realize—”

“What you were asking for?” I cut in.

“How much more there is to you than I even first imagined,” he answers. “And I mean, I knew from the first conversation we had that there was a lot you kept hidden. There was a lot of complex, beautiful woman to know, hiding somewhere past all those walls.” He pulls me toward his body, and I fall against him, breasts crushed to his side, a leg thrown over his, my eyes fixed on his. “I was determined to get past those walls. I wanted to figure you out. I wanted you to trust me, to tell me all those secrets I saw in your eyes.”

“Well…now I have.”

“Now you have,” he agrees, and his mouth finds mine.
 

His hands span my waist, lift me astride him, and the kiss breaks. I gaze down at him, into his pale green eyes, and I’m lost. I was lost before, but after revealing the truth and all the things I’d kept hidden, I’m drowning in him. I press a kiss to his chest, and then sigh in pleasure as his big strong hands roam my back and my ass and my thighs, and then up to bury in my hair and bring my face to his for a soul-searing kiss. He’s there, at my entrance, hard and hot, and I scrub my palms over his cheeks and slide my body up his, cling to his neck and sink him deep inside me.
 

“Oh
fuck
, Des…god, you feel like heaven…”

“Not heaven,” I gasp, writhing upon his length. “
Home
. You feel like home.”
 

“Is there a difference?” he whispers.

I shake my head, lift up so I can see his eyes, my hair falling around our faces. “No, there’s not. Not to me.”

“Me either.” He thrusts up into me, lips touching my cheek, then teeth nipping at my ear. “I love this, Des, feeling you like this. Bare inside you.”
 

“Me too.”

“You’re not on birth control.”
 

I shake my head. “No. Never needed to be.”
 

“Then we should stop for a second. I’ve got to put one on.” He rolls us over, slides out of me, rises to his knees between my thighs. Snagging the packet he’d set aside earlier, he rips it open and sheaths his cock with the condom. “Now. Where were we?”

I just stare up at him, waiting, expectant. “I don’t know. I’ve forgotten. You should show me.”
 

A smile spreads across my face as he grips his thick cock in one hand and guides himself to my opening, presses the broad head to my clit and rolls it in slow circles. I gasp, and his eyes darken, heat up. He slides into me, pushing all the way in, and then moves his knees closer to me, spreading my thighs farther apart.