Wasted Heart (21 page)

“Don’t say that. You tried to help her the only way you knew how. How could she blame you for that?” Syn says, sobbing against my chest.

“She doesn’t know, Syn. I never told her it was me. I live, every fucking day, knowing that I caused this. She would probably kill me if she knew. Some days, I replay every single second over and over in my head. Sometimes, it’s not even a choice. The only time I get away from it all is when I’m high. I’m an addict. I’m not going to lie to you about that,” I tell her, pulling back to stare directly into her eyes. For once, I want her to see the real me, the fucking ugly as sin bastard underneath it all. She needs to see that devil so she can run fast and far away. “But I’m an addict because I can’t deal with this shit day in and day out. I would have blown my goddamn brains out long ago.”

Syn brings her soft hand to gently touch my face, showing no sign of revulsion at being near me. Before I can move away, her lips touch mine, and my dick hardens to the point of pain. A tightness in my chest causes me to hold my breath, waiting, then opening for her. I try to be gentle, something I’m completely unfamiliar with. My mouth wants to devour her, marking her as mine, but I keep it slow and tender for her. I don’t think I could allow myself the liberty of taking it any further. She deserves so much more.

“I…,” I start to say, pulling back from her.

She places her fingertips across my lips and smiles for me. “Just close your eyes,” she whispers, settling herself next to me. “We will talk about all of it later.”

I am so fucking tired, completely exhausted, mentally and physically, from my life, but for this one, stolen moment, I shut it all down without the aid of anything manmade. She gives me a quiet peace that I’ve never known. The touch of her delicate hands massaging my temples as we lie, facing each other, in the grass is the greatest gift anyone has ever given me. Syn doesn’t offer me empty words, broken promises, or careless caresses. It’s something I’ve never known: giving without getting back a single damn thing. I don’t understand it, and I’m afraid I never will.

Her hands slowly cease touching me, and her breathing steadies out. She lies curled up next to me, and I gently lean back, looking down to see that she has fallen asleep. Propping myself on my arm, I reach down with my other hand to brush her beautiful, blonde hair with my fingers. Fuck, she looks incredibly younger than nineteen. So innocent. I’ve never held anything like this… I don’t even know what to call it. Precious I guess? Her lips look swollen from our kisses, and the tender skin on her cheek is beard burned from my unshaven face. My marks on her. Mine. This overwhelming need to consume her is killing me. Everything inside of me screams to take her. Own her. Make her fucking mine in every way possible.

Leaning down, my lips brush hers, once….twice and again. I trace my tongue around them, saturating her mouth, making it wet. A full body shiver fucking ignites me like a hot furnace. Burning on the inside for Syn. My cock swells, my balls tighten, and I can’t help but to rub myself, searching for some kind of relief, against her with our bodies aligned perfectly together. The beauty of the land surrounding us has nothing on sweet Syn. Her cotton candy scent is driving me bat shit crazy, making it exceedingly hard not to go down town. I wonder if her virgin body has ever felt a wet tongue lick her like she’s its favorite candy. Another full body quake rocks my internal core. Goddamn, this is powerful stuff. Inexperienced chicks have never been a turn on whatsoever, but Syn is the exception. In fact, she’s become the one and only rule. Her mouth starts mimicking mine, and her eyes flutter open, dazed with lust if her moan is any indication. Knowing that she is with me turns the notches up inside, fanning the flames. I tremble as she pushes her pelvis up hard against mine, seeking what I want to give her. Her hands grasp handfuls of my hair, tugging and pulling with unrestrained need. I’m so fucking horny, shaking with uncontrollable lust. When her mouth finally opens to me, I give everything I am in that kiss, trying to prove that I’m worthy for what she needs. At the same time, I feel a pang of regret, knowing I’ll never be. She seems to accept me for who I am, knowing what I am, but for one tiny second, something inside me says to take the high road and leave her the fuck alone.

The feel of her mouth sucking hard on my sensitive neck, right below my rose tattoo, blows that goddamn idea to smithereens. Mine. Want. Need. All-out war rages inside of me, within us, it seems. She pushes my chest up, grabbing the hem of my shirt and pulling it off, attacking my mouth once again when she finishes. This greedy girl owns me with the intent in her eyes, and I know that she is, without a shadow of a doubt, completely mine. No other before me and no other after will ever come close to this living, breathing encounter created by us.

Not slowing down for a minute, she reaches to pull her top off, along with her bra. Her tits are two perfectly sculpted tan globes with tight, rosy nipples in the center. I attack them, drawing each one into my mouth, my dick pulsating in time with her tiny moans.

The touch of her hand, slipping beneath my jeans to run over my needy cock, triggers my own, loud moan. I can’t help but feel every single molecule within my body swell with demand for her. I have to slow this down or it will be over before it truly fucking begins, and I’ll blow my load early. For once, it’s a fear instead of a goal because I care about Syn getting hers first.

Reaching for her searching arm, I tug it out of my jeans, smiling at the sound of her reluctance. “Lie back for me, Syn,” I command, watching her yellow eyes go liquid with desire. She doesn’t buck me; instead, like the good girl she is, she does as I say. Something tells me, though, it’s only because it’s me and in this moment. Once she is flat on the blanket, I kneel on my knees beside her, instructing her softly, “Remove your shorts, slowly.” I watch her unbutton them and slide them down her shapely thighs. She’s not my usual stick-thin waif, and I’ve never wanted anyone more.

The sight before me blows my fucking mind. Her blonde hair is spread out around her face. Her tan, tight little body glows underneath the willow tree as the sun tries to shine its rays directly on her. A pair of barely there, white panties fail to hide the bald pussy that glistens underneath. I slowly glide my fingertip from her panting chest, over one pebbled hard nipple, and down her flat stomach until it reaches the edge of her panties.

I tug on the elastic, slipping my hand down to cup her. Wet, hot heat greets me. If my dick could become the incredible hulk, he would bust out of my jeans, going ape shit crazy to find her. No fucking doubt, this is, without question, the hardest I’ve ever been for any girl. Her moan of need spurs me further. I slide one finger back and forth, not entering her but increasing the wet heat with every swipe. The excitement builds, and goddamn if I don’t swear I could just come right now. Slipping one fingertip inside makes her entire body shake, and she pants louder. Going a little deeper, my finger is coated in her sultry wetness, making each glide in and out easier. I grind my palm against her mound, stimulating her as much as possible.

“Please, Rhye,” she cries out, “I… Oh my God.” Her entire body bows out, and I close my eyes at her scream of satisfaction. My breaths are coming out just as fast as hers, and when I open my eyes, I see the entire innocence of Syn smiling back at me. She’s a beaut, but her inner beauty would completely bring me to my knees if I wasn’t already on them.

She lies there, willing and ready. Once again, I want to give a girl something more than I could possibly ever offer her. So, I do the very thing that my body and mind scream not to, stand and walk away.

“Rhye?” I ask, trying to make sense of what is happening around me. He just gave me the most memorable experience of my life and then walked away? Did I do something wrong? My body trembles, not from the cold but confusion.

I know he desires me. It’s evident by the hard on he’s sporting beneath his jeans. I watch him walk over to the tree and lean against it, away from me. He looks miserable, and he doesn’t have to. I stand on my wobbly legs, my body feeling the aftershocks of his experienced touch, and stumble over to him. He refuses to look at me, staring out across the clear pond instead.

“Rhye?” I ask again, gently touching his shoulder. He moves away from my touch and cuts his eyes at me.

“Get dressed, Syn,” he says, looking back over the still water.

“I don’t want to,” I tell him defiantly. “This is my moment. What I’ve waited for. I know it with every breath I take and with every fiber of being. Do not deny me this, Rhye Clark. I don’t know why you decided to stop, but I damn well know it’s not something wrong with me, so don’t make me feel that way. I’m done with assholes making me feel like I’m the one lacking something.” My last words come out with a cry, and once again, my tears pour like a river.

He turns towards me now, guilt assailing his features. “No, Syn. I want you too damn much. I fucking would give my left nut to have you right now, but listen to what I have to say. Please,” he begs, bowing his head.

I watch him breathe in and out, his jaw ticking, usually indicating his anger. At me? I cover my breasts with my arms. The day still shines majestically around us, but the moment is now tarnished, and I don’t know if we can go back. The thought makes me want to cry harder, sob louder.

“If I take you, I can’t say what you need to hear. Not because I wouldn’t mean it, but because I don’t know what it really means. Something is so fucking wrong inside of me that I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to be fixed. Even at this moment, if it was a choice between a hit of smack or you, I wish I could tell you, without another thought, that it would be you, but I can’t,” he says, looking deep into my eyes, pleading silently with me to understand. Looking around, he motions to my land with his hand before saying, “After spending today with you, I know you could live here forever and be content, but even now, I’m becoming jittery, needing more than the silence and the peace. I can’t fix me for you anymore than you could dirty yourself up enough for me. I don’t want to sleep with you and tell you thanks for the fuck and walk away. I know that it would shatter something inside me that really would be unfixable.”

His words do the very thing he’s afraid for himself, shatter me. I don’t want to fall apart in front of him. He wants to be honorable now? When I’m naked and willing to open myself for him? To give over my past, my present, and my future? The dark shadows that haunt him are casting darkness over us. Can he not see that? The salty tears leak out of my eyes, warmly caressing my face. My heart is so full, but so empty. After everything I’ve said, how can he turn away from me? Can he even have a heart? Is it even possible? His tiny, shriveled, and withered heart. Isn’t that what it is? Unused. Squandered. A wasted heart?

I turn, not wanting to look at him another second. I’m pissed, fire-breathing mad. Does he not realize what I’m willing to give up for him? Everything! Every little and big thing in my life. Picking up my shorts, I slide them on with trembling hands and over unsteady legs, shaking with unrequited love. I grab my shirt and pull it on haphazardly, without bothering with the bra. I toss it inside the picnic basket along with my boots and everything else. He’s not getting rid of me this easily.

Without even looking at him, I walk over to the Polaris, throw the basket in the back, and sit down. I seethe in silence, waiting for him to join me. Minutes later, he does, his shirt and shoes back on. I turn the key, and we drive back to the house. Taking the direct route only takes us about thirty minutes to return. The evening sky is shaded with blues and pinks, but the peacefulness has worn thin for the day, and not even that picturesque sight can repair the moment. Stopping directly in front of the cabin, I turn off the ignition.

He starts to get out when I say, “Stop.” Turning, he stares back at me with hostility, once again in his eyes. “When I want something. Someone. I fight for them, and I don’t give up until I get what I want. You need to know that. You need to prepare yourself for me. Get right with Jesus and take care of whoever or whatever you need to because you and I are far from over.”

I step out of the vehicle and walk around to him. He’s seems surprised and maybe a little angry at my outburst, but I don’t care. “Jay may have let you go without a fight, but I sure as hell won’t.” I turn to walk up the steps to the porch.

“I don’t really care for desperate chicks,” he calls behind me.

I stop, slowly counting to three in my mind so I don’t turn around and choke him to death. Turning, I march back down those same steps, stopping directly in front of him. He glares at me defiantly. “You need to learn the difference between desperate and what I’m offering only to you,” I whisper, leaning into him. Raising myself on my toes, I kiss his cheek and turn to walk away again.

“I’m sorry,” he quietly replies, but I don’t stop.

Walking inside, I steel myself for what happens next. “No more tears,” I chant, over and over. Maybe, just maybe, it will work. A throat clearing makes me turn my head.