Find Me (Truthful Lies Trilogy - Book Two) (2 page)

I lean on c
lenched fists on either side of her ears. And
below, crotch to crotch, I move into her. Little by little trying
to get deeper, further into her.

She’s soft. And wet. Oh so wet.

We squish as I move
forward
.

She bites
her lower lip. Sweat sheens on her
brow.

I move out, then shift left a little, just
for comfort. And I drive in gently again.

“
Mmmmm,” she says. Her eyes flutter closed,
but I can see she tries to hold them open. She repeats: “Mmmmmm.”
And, a whisper that’s velvet itself: “Oh, Declan.
Baby
.”

Baby.

Declan.

I harden. Push into her.

“Mmmmm. Declan.” Slower now:
“Mmmmmmmmmm.”

I harden some more. Her chest bounces as I
start increasing my speed. Her legs widen. She lifts them, slips a
hand under each of her thighs, and holds them up. “Oh,
god
.”

Every thrust of mine brings out a call in
her. A groan, a moan.

A word.

My name...

With my left hand
I cup the back of her neck; lean on my
right fist. I’m moving faster now. Her body’s bouncing harder. Her
brightly tatted arm is a masterpiece of movement. Coolness chills
me where my upper thighs meet her ass and then separate from
it.

Smack. Smack. Smack.

“OH. DECK. BABY.”

“Open your eyes, Blaze.”

She tries, gets them halfway.

“Blaze, open them. I need to look at
you.”

As if lifting a mountain, she gets her lids
open. And her green gaze meets mine.

“
Don’t stop looking at me, Blaze. Please
don’t stop.”

I slam her harder and harder. Her lips
part. She eases two hands behind my neck. Because it’s my second
go, the orgasm teases me, hanging back, building pressure right at
the base of my cock; threatening to disappear no matter how much I
will it to explode from me.

I pump faster.
Harder!
My abs are burning, my upper thighs are screaming.
Blaze’s voice keeps me going: “Oh, baby.
Yes
.”

It’s a dulcet voice: Breathy and
seductive.

It transports me. My chest burns with
exhausted heat.

I pump and pump and pump and pump. There
it is, right there, almost reaching out,
almost...almost...

Her grip on my neck tightens. She
gasps,
“Hah
.” Her eyes
widen.

Then, while the ripping groan forms at the
bottom of her chest, she shuts her eyes, tilts her head to the
right. And wrests out the words, “Oh, Declan, baby, I’m gonna
come—”

Her bottom lip drops. Her eyebrows rise. And
it looks like she’s just shot a ton of dope.

She screams: “Oh. Fucking.
Damn
!”

I drop toward her, wrap both my arms around
her neck as the second wave beats into her. Faster, and shorter.
But no less exquisite.

Sweeter.

And halfway through hers, I get my own
merciful release. An endless trickle upwards that finally becomes a
splash of relief as it leaves me. I convulse into her a few times.
Never letting her go.

She holds me back, a
rms to my neck, just as mine are to
hers.

Then she kisses my ear. Desperately.

And I hold her like I’m too afraid to ever
let her go.

Because I am.

I don’t sleep. She does.

On our sides,
I press her back to my chest while her restful
breaths fill the open room of her loft.

My mind can’t stop replaying the day’s
events.

Catalina: YOU MOTHERFUCKER, I GONNA KILL
YOU!

Pops: Catalina, no!

Trigger squeeze.

Pops flying in front of Trevor.

Kablooey!

Eventually I get up, find Blaze’s liquor
cabinet (
it’s under the
sink) and grab a bottle of quarter-empty CC whiskey. I pull out a
glass from up top, pour a drink. Before it hits my lips, I hear
Blaze say, “Pour me one as well. And wait for me before you drink
it.”

It makes me smile.

I do as she says, and wait for her to get
up and reach the kitchen counter. She does, clad in nothing but a
long tee shirt. We touch glasses, and she says, “To your
pops.”

I swallow a lump, then say, “To never
drinking alone.”

The statement states what it means, and
she realizes it. So we share a moment of pause, letting it sink
in.

She repeats it: “To never drinking
alone.”

I pour us another, let it burn on the way
down. And one more. “That’s it for me,” she says.

I’d planned on doing the whole bottle, but I
guess I could stop now as well.

I put her in my arms, let my whiskey-hot
breath reach hers. I harden before my crotch even touches her
mound. I don’t bother going to the bed. I rubber up and put myself
inside her.

She whimpers. We shake maddeningly.
Standing, I pump into her in a blur.

We sweat.

We exhale.

In the end, her arms dangling around my
neck, her unbeatable eyes locked on mine, I push a strand of her
riotous gold-pink-green hair over her left ear; press my palm
against her right, shaved side.

She breaks the gaze by resting her forehead
on my chest. “You make me feel whole,” she mumbles.

I press her head further against
me.
So do
you
.

This time I do fall asleep. Briefly.
Before the nightmare of what happened to pops wakes me:

Kablooey!

I pour another glass of CC. Then another.
This time, Blaze doesn’t wake up. And I do drink alone.

All night.

My pops died tonight, in front of my eyes. So
that’s alright, isn’t it?

Blaze Ryleigh

I awake to that warm glowing
feeling
you have when
you’re young. When nothing’s gone wrong in your life. When friends
will live forever and love is just over the horizon.

When your heart doesn’t yet have a chasm in
it.

I wake up thinking of Deck.

Until my hand reaches over and I don’t feel
him.

Then it all hits me.
She’s dead, Blaze.

No! NO! NO! Stop holding me back. NO.

I shake my head. Flashback.

I turn, and see the almost empty bottle
of
Canadian
Club
on the kitchen
island. And Declan’s head on his forearm next to it.

Damn it. Not again. Not, the fuck,
again.

I get up, walk over to him. Put my arm around
his shoulders and squeeze. In his ear, I whisper, “Baby?”

“Hmmpf?”

The booze reeks up from his breath as he says
it. “Sweetie, it’s morning.”

“Urrmpf.”

I step back.
No, not him. Please, don’t let him fall
into that hole like Savva did...

I grab the booze
bottle and put it back under the sink. The last
time I drank from that bottle, Savva was still alive.
Maybe it’s good that
it gets emptied out
. I
decide not to pour it down. It might cost only twenty bucks, but
it’s twenty bucks I can’t afford to piss away.

I put it away, and as I straighten, I look
over at Savva’s old apartment.

No light.
No light in your eyes
, I think.

I turn to Deck, and he’s straightened.
Looking like a bum off the street.
Or a boy who’s just watched his father get
murdered in front of him.

“
You OK?”
I ask him.

He wipes a hand down his face. Eyes red
and bleary. He croaks, “I guess.”

I hold the empty booze glass in my hand,
look at it a second, then put it away. “I’ll buy you a new bottle.
I just...I just needed a drink. Several...actually.”

I wash the glass. “It’s cheap liquor. Don’t
worry about it.”

I hear him getting up behind me. Bullets
of fear fire at me. Will he survive this? Will this change what we
have, new and fresh though it may be? Will I survive it if he turns
to drink? Because less than a week ago, he was dropping pills. Can
I go through that again? Can I be with someone
addicted to a substance?

“I’m...gonna jump in the shower.”

I turn to face him. “Sure.”

“You, uh, wanna join me?”

I can’t help the grin from appearing on my
face. His
radiant blue
eyes glow under a tangled mass of yellow hair. “I’d...uhm...love
to.”

He doesn’t smile. But I can understand
that. “Awesome.”

In the shower, he drinks of me again. I’m
not
Canadian
Club
, but I
might as well be. I feel his need for me.

Like a drug.

And I don’t know how I feel about that.

Water intermingles in between our lips as
we kiss. Gasping for air, he says
, “I’m out of rubbers.”

“I’m on the pill.”

He pulls back, questioning eyes searching me.
“You trust me that much?”

“Can I?”

He answers with actions. He puts my back
to the wall. Then, while guiding himself inside me, he says, “Of
course you can.”

When he enters me, I wrap my arms around his
neck for stability. He rides into me, pressing and lifting.
Groaning maddeningly. Hunting, searching, looking for peace.

Desperately, he explodes inside me.

And a sting of an orgasm rushes through me
quickly. Just enough to quicken my breath. Just enough to make my
body go limp.

He keeps riding me, slowly, even though
he’s done. And this is something
—in the few times we’ve made love now—that I’ve already
come to adore: How he rides me slowly after, as if we were able to
make love with no end.

I hold him inside me when he tries to take
himself out. “No, do that some more.”

And he does.
He stays in me. Rocking. Pushing. Moving side to
side and in and out. Finally, he softens completely. And he slides
out.

“
That was amazing.
” I look up at him.

I can feel the difference. The shattering
of all defensive walls I had around him before. Around anyone. It
all changed yesterday. I feel completely bared to him now,
emotionally, spiritually. Taking off my clothes wasn’t what did
it.

It was letting him
inside
me...

And that has nothing to do with sex.

He entered me completely yesterday. And
now, I’m his. Fully.

“
For me too.” I think he sees something in
my eyes, because he quickly tells me, “Blaze, I’m OK by the way.
Just in case you were wondering.” He moves back and lets me under
the showerhead to warm up.

“OK.”

He turns me, starts soaping my back. “No, I
am. It was...gruesome, but...you need to understand that he and I
weren’t close, Blaze.”

“You mentioned that.”

“
And you really need to know it. Because we
weren’t. What makes it so hard was...how fucking gory it was.” His
hand pauses a moment, then soaps me up again. He turns me. “And
that, in a way, we’d made peace just before it
happened.”

I move back, let him under the shower
water.
“I guess that’s a
good thing.”

He looks away. “Maybe. It hurts more
because of it.” Chin trembling, he finishes off with, “Makes me
miss the
bastid
because
of it.” We share a moment of silence, then he looks back at me,
grabs some soap, lathes my breasts. “I
loved
yesterday, Blaze. I loved it with you. I want you
to know that it wasn’t just sex to me. It was a connection. And I
appreciate our first time having been after...
that
. I really needed it.”

A little embarrassed, I look down and
away. “I was pretty certain it
wouldn’t
be just sex with you. Which is why I let you inside
me.”

He moves me closer to him, so that our chests
touch and the shower water sprays down on both of us. “Was I...the
first?”

“
No! Why? Was I...
bad
?”

“
You were fucking amazing, Blaze. I’ve
never had sex like that before. Because...I’ve never felt this way
about anyone before. I...never knew there was an additional level
to it. An emotional one. And that made the physical connection a
thousand times more intense.”

His words make me hot. And a little needy.
“The way we’re fucking, you’d think we’d been denied it for all our
lives.”

He laughs, turns off the shower. “Well, I
hadn’t had it for a few months. Just FYI.”

“
Oh.” We step out the shower. He wraps me
in a towel. Then starts patting my breasts dry. My nipples tighten
even harder—and it isn’t only the sudden cold. “I—uhm. Look, why
did you ask me if you were my first?”

“
Because it was so intense. Like I said, it
was emotional. Look, just forget it. I’m sorry. I
didn’t—”