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“Hey, you listen to me. Nothing could hurt me more than knowing you’re suffering any kind of pain. That shit guts me. Fucking rips my goddamn heart out.” Letting one of his hands free, he balls it into a fist and slams it against his chest, just above his heart, over and over. The loud so
und bouncing off the bathroom walls, the intensity of the force causing me to cry harder as his chest reddens. My sobs uneven and loud.
“Stop!” I reach for his hand, stopping him from pounding it more; scared it will mar his perfect skin. Trey is losing control, spiraling down with me into the black pits of misery. Only difference is that I have been down here for months now—alone.
“No, I fucking love you, baby. I need you to understand that this doesn’t change anything between us, this isn’t your fault.” Dipping his face to my eye level, he bands his arm around my lower waist, pulling me up and into him. My palms lay gently across his beet-red chest. My mind is at war, not sure where we go from here.
“Tell me you fucking get it, Shayla,” he demands, leaning into me, his lips inches from mine, our foreheads touching. My still ever-pressing tears cascading down my cheeks.
“I can’t, I feel like I’ve failed you.”
“Damn it, baby. Please stop crying.” Leaning into me, Trey kisses with puckered lips, the tip of his tongue making a path from my chin up to just under my eyes, cleaning up my tears, like an animal tending to his wounded mate. My sobs are broken and choppy, while he tries to nurse me back from hell. I start to claw at him, wanting him closer to me. Wanting him to prove to me that I’m not broken, that I’m still needed by him, that I’ll always be his treasure.
“I love you, Trey. Please don’t ever let me go,” I unashamedly beg, my voice hoarse as he kisses my neck, my chin, my eyes, all over my face—his attempt at healing me.
“Never. I can never let you go.”
“Take it away, take this all away,” I further beg.
“Anything. What can I do?” he asks, lifting me up into his arms, my legs banding around his waist. I feel small and dainty in his muscular ones.
“Don’t fuck me, Trey. Make love to me.”
“Oh, baby.” He whispers on a pained strain, his brows drawing in. “Always.” He finishes his promise, carrying us back to the bed.
Laying us both down, he places me on top, sitting astride his waist. Trey lies completely flat on the bed, his head resting on my pillows. He starts growing under me, his cock rising while looking up at me. Reaching my hand down between us, I start stroking him, the warmth of his silky cock in my hands dampens me between the legs, preparing my body for his thick invasion.
“You look like an angel above me,” he whispers, his thumb reaching up and lightly grazing my nipple then flattening his palm under my breast to knead it gently.
I don’t say anything, I just listen, taking his words of praise and absorbing them into my soul. I need this slow and soft. I need the gentle Trey, my lover.
“You ready, baby?” he asks, his cock fully erect in my palm. I nod and release him, planting my hands on his chest, he catches my hips and slowly guides me down his shaft, inch by inch. Our eyes both glued onto our connection. It’s breathtaking, literally. My breathing stops in this moment with Trey, my heart aching to feel worthy, to feel whole. With each inch, our connection bonds us together, making us one.
I wince when he thrusts the rest of the way in.
“You okay, angel?” I nod, my lip pinched between my teeth.
We’re both lost right now, this isn’t easy on him, just as much as it’s not easy on me. The knowledge of this worries me; I know he won’t make this about him. Trey’s going to let me feel the pain, let me break on him after months of constant loneliness. I cherish that about him, I envy him for being so understanding with me. He could have thrown his hands up and walked away, but he didn’t. Here he lies under me, joined with me as one, trying to fix the broken in me. I want him to know though, that his pain is just as acceptable as mine is.
“Yes,” I whisper, pushing against his chest, I slowly begin to rock my hips. His rough hands land on my thighs, moving against them in slow motion. Traveling from my thighs up to my hips, he pinches the skin on my hipbone lightly. Those little, insignificant touches, so random but yet more raw and passionate than the typical moves made during lovemaking.
The slickness of my arousal is mixed with his thick cock, feeling heavenly inside me. My body hums, coming alive with the feel of him invading me, owning me, making sweet love to me.
I assess him while he admires my body, his one hand gripping my hip while his other lightly grazes over my pebbled nipple. I sear the rugged features on his handsome face into my brain. His sandy blond hair a mess on his head, his stubble shadowing his jaw, his pouty, full lips slightly agape. Those eyes, my heaven, my favorite paradise, shimmer in the dark. The light from the bathroom giving them a tiny ring in the middle. I feel like I am looking at Trey for the first time again. Fourteen years I have been by his side as his best friend, but for the first time, it feels like I’m seeing him as a reflection. That reflection in his eyes mirrors my bared soul—we are whole.
You could encompass a dictionary, search its words front to back and never find enough words to justify the love I hold for Trey.
Tonight, I told him my secret, the secret I was so scared his wretched mother would tell. Now his mother has nothing to tell, nothing to hang over my head. Yet, there is another secret hanging in the balance. I know we said no more secrets, but tonight we shared enough, enough of a painful confession. I will tackle the other tomorrow.
“Look at you…such a small woman with great power.” He brings me out of my troubles and back into the here and now. Reaching up with his long muscular arm, he sweeps my fallen hair from my face, collecting it and holding it by my ear while he cradles my face. I smile through my fading tears; only a few lone ones make their way out, landing on his chest, drying within seconds on his hot skin.
“Hey, no more crying, please, baby, no more crying,” he pleads, pulling my face to his, kissing my swollen, salty, tear-stained lips.
Connecting our foreheads, he whispers against my lips, “Forgive yourself, Shayla, let go. This isn’t your fault and we will always have hope.” My movements slow.
“I want to, I want to let go. I want to believe in hope,” I confess, and within a split second Trey moves into sitting position, his back now off the bed, his chest flat against mine.
“I refuse to let go of that hope, because that hope will always see us through, baby.”
