Chapter Five - Maddie & Tyler
MADDIE
I come out of sleep feeling like I’m drowning. Like I’m underwater, looking up at bright light, legs and arms flailing, desperate to reach the surface.
Nothing makes sense. Where am I? What’s going on? A voice. I hear a voice. A man’s voice. Carlos? Logan? Ricky? Are they here to kill me?
I open my eyes, gulping air, and sit straight up.
But it only takes moments—long, weirdly stretched-out moments—for me to understand that I’m at home, in my own bed, and the booming male voice coming from the other side of the house is not Carlos, or Ricky Other Guy, or Logan.
Who the fuck?
Is that—
No.
No, it can’t be. He would not do that. He couldn’t do that. He has no idea where I live. Unless…
It’s getting dark outside. What time is it? What day is it?
I swing my legs over the bed, stand up, trip over the red stripper shoes I kicked off… whenever it was. I manage to catch my fall by grabbing onto the edge of the bed, and then straighten up, walk towards my door, throw it open and stomp down the hall towards the living room ready to find—
“And so I said, ‘No! It was the dog!” And three prostitutes bust out laughing.
But this is no fucking joke.
Tyler Morgan is sitting in my goddamn living room, on Annie’s goddamn couch, one arm stretched across the back, one foot propped up on a knee, holding a beer in the other hand, yucking it up like he belongs here.
“What the fuck is going on?” That’s me. I’m pissed. No, I’m goddamned livid.
“Maddie,” Tyler says, setting his beer down, getting to his feet, and kind of opening his arms like he’s gonna… what? Hug me? He looks unsure, but steps toward me.
I put up both hands, palms out, and say, as impolitely as I can, “Get the fuck out.”
“Um, Maddie?” Annie says. “Your friend Tyler is here.”
“Yeah, no fucking shit. And he’s not my friend.” I can’t believe this is happening.
“Oh, well,” Caroline starts, “he’s, uh, been catching us up on some really funny stories about when you guys were kids.” She’s holding an empty wine glass, a dopey expression on her face that lets me know she thinks Tyler Morgan is just dreamy.
How long was I asleep? How long has he been here?
“The dog.” Annie titters. “Oh, my God. The fucking dog!” I shoot her a look that lets her know none of this is adorable and she wrestles back her smile.
“Who the fuck invited you?” I snarl at Tyler. “And how the hell did you even find out where I live?”
“I stopped by Pete’s. Met Pete. Sweet guy, by the way. I would’ve imagined a strip club owner as being kinda—”
“Pete told you where I live?” Jesus. Thanks, Pete. Fuck.
“No, no, not exactly.” Tyler’s standing way too close to me now. The girls are pretending not to be able to hear him, but it’s clear they’re eavesdropping. I hope they’re better at fucking guys for money than they are at spying.
Tyler leans in closer still, and I really, really wish he would not do that. Because I hate him and don’t want him anywhere near me. Or maybe because I can feel the heat of his body and he kinda smells delicious. Which just pisses me off more because I hate him.
He lowers his voice and continues explaining how he found me. “Don’t be mad at Pete. He didn’t want to tell me where you live. Seems like a really ethical guy.”
“Except he did tell you where I live.”
“Well, yeah, but it cost me five grand.” My eyes go wide. “I mean, he’s ethical for, y’know, a guy who runs a strip joint.”
Nope. This is not going down like this. “Get. Out.” I’m pointing at the door now.
“No!” Diane whines. “No, no, no. We’re just getting to know him, Maddie! Oh, my God. This guy. Where the hell have you been hiding him all these months?”
“Where have I been hiding him?” I see red as I go to him, hands out, and slam them into his chest. The force of my push makes him step back… half a step. Maybe. “I wasn’t hiding him anywhere, you traitors! This asshole ducked out on me years ago. And when I needed him, when I was begging him to—” I shake my head to clear my mind. “And then he shows back up and thinks everything’s gonna be fine just because we fucked a couple of times when I didn’t know it was him!”
There’s a beat before Annie says, “You fucked him?” with, like, way more excitement in her voice than she should.
“Not the point!” I shout as I slam my hands into his chest again.
But this time, he grabs my wrist and stops me, saying, “Can we please talk?”
I struggle in his grip, but he holds tight. I clench my teeth and spit, “Let go of me.”
He does. Immediately. Both hands up as if in surrender.
I decide to change my strategy. Because clearly Tyler Morgan is being Tyler Morgan. He attracts people to him like a siren song calling sailors to the rocks. He knows how to play up the act he perfected long ago. Seemingly genuine, charismatic, and fascinating as he leads the rest of us to our destruction.
So I pull the friend card out and whirl around to face Annie, Diane, and Caroline. Taking a deep breath, I say, “He’s not what you think,” in the calmest tone I can muster. My voice is shaky. My hands are trembling with anger. But I hold it together. “He ruined me,” I say. “He broke me into tiny pieces, dropped me to the ground, and walked all over me.”
Annie just stares at me, confused.
“What do you mean?” Diane asks.
“He left me, Diane. After Scotty died. He left me alone. He never came back. He never even showed up for his funeral. I begged him,” I say, starting to cry. “I begged him and he told me to stop. He just went on with his life like nothing happened. Like my brother didn’t just die the most horrific death possible. Like what we all meant to each other was meaningless. So I hope one of those stories he told you about our childhood included that little fact. And then…” I continue, drawing in a deep breath, willing the strength it takes to get this last part in so I can twist that knife in his chest the way he did mine. “And then he went off and made millions of dollars. Been living it up in a goddamned penthouse, no cares at all. No worries at all. While I’ve been back here…”
But I lose it there. I can’t say the words selling myself. Because I’ll die right now if I have to say that. I’ll die.
There’s a filled beat while everyone stares at Tyler, who never breaks eye contact with me. And I really wish he would. Because his eyes are sad and hurt-looking and no fucking way will I fall for that shit. No. Fucking. Way.
Caroline mutters, “He’s a millionaire?”
Jesus Christ.
I turn to face Tyler for this last part. Because I’m just about done here. “I was high, Tyler.” He squints his eyes at me, puzzled. “High up on Mount fucking Everest. On the tippy top of life. And you were supposed to be there next to me. You promised to be there next to me. And you let me fall down that fucking mountain. You never looked back, you just kept going.”
“Maddie—” he says.
But I hush him with a hand as I shake my head so that my tears fall down my cheeks. “No. Just go away. Just go back where you came from and never come back.”
I take one more look at my roommates, find them all frowning, and then walk to my room and slam the door.
TYLER
The problem with what Maddie just requested is that I already am back where I came from. The whole reason I’m here is so I can try to live out the rest of my probably short life just kind of anonymous and doing as little damage as possible.
Shit.
I turn to face the three women who are staring at me with trapped-in-between-knowing-what-to-do looks on their faces.
“We used to be friends,” I smile and say.
“So,” the one with the empty wine glass—Caroline, I think—says. “A millionaire?”
“OK!” intervenes the apparent leader of this bunch, whose name I caught earlier as Annie. “So, uh, we’ve gotta get to work. We’ll leave you guys to talk. Or whatever.”
I nod. “Yeah. Thanks. Where do you guys work?”
They don’t answer right away. They just sort of all look at each other like maybe they forgot what they do for a living.
“On the Strip/WE’RE CALL GIRLS,” Annie and Wine Glass Caroline say at the same time.
“Oh,” I say, “Well, that’s, uh… I’ve known quite a few call girls in my day. You guys… um”—wow, this is awkward—“look like you’re very… good? At your job?”
The looks have now traversed over into a very precise direction. It’s the visual equivalent of someone saying, ‘Bitch, is you stupid?’ (I am, is the answer.)
“OK, well, it was… nice to meet you,” says Annie.
“Yeah, and listen, if you ever feel like you just need to talk, or…” begins Wine Glass Caroline before Annie and the other one push her out the door, her going, “What?”
After they’re gone, I stand there for a moment, suddenly unsure how to proceed. I know what to do in the abstract, I’m just not sure how to go about it. What I need to do is to prostrate myself. Lie at Maddie’s feet and beg for her forgiveness. The way she begged for me to come help her when she needed it.
That’s what I need to do. But at the same time, I can’t. I can’t do that. Because I am not all in the wrong. I just can’t let myself believe that. I don’t have a bunch of ego about apologizing when I know I’m at fault. I’m a super-vulnerable and sensitive motherfucker. Everybody says so.
So I’m not wary of asking for forgiveness to protect my image or any moronic shit like that. I’m wary because an additional truth of this matter is that I was staying away from her to protect her. To protect her from me. To avoid exactly the kind of something that’s happening between us right now.
And, y’know, oh, well, that didn’t work out, so now we just kinda have to deal with it. So I think we both have to just sack up and admit that while the way things went was shitty, the past is the past, and living in the past is no fucking good for anybody, and the best thing for us now is to give in to the reality of the present and move forward.
What did James Franco say when I was dead or dreaming or whatever the hell that was? I can make a heaven on earth with Maddie? That seems pretty fucking far away at the moment, but I think there is a shot that I can make her tolerate being next to me for five minutes. And if I can start there, then at least it’s something to build on.
I stand in front of the door to her bedroom knowing she’s on the other side, hurt, shocked, and pissed. It’s just a regular, normal-sized wood door, but right now it might as well be a steel gate that reaches to the sky protecting some forbidden city. So, I calculate what I’m going to do to charm her and win her confidence long enough to get her to listen to me. I can’t just barge in like a bull in a china shop, as is my usual wont. I have to be very, very tactical about how I infiltrate the precious lands on the other side of that gate if I hope to have any chance of the queen letting me stake my claim and till the soil so that I can plant my seed.
Hm. I didn’t really intend for that imagery to wind up taking me there, but it sure did.
Ha.
That’s funny.
MADDIE
I don’t know how long I lie there in bed, face buried in my pillow to mop up the tears, but it feels like eternity. It feels like I’m stuck in purgatory. Neither here nor there, just waiting for my sentence to be handed down.
Just go away. Please. Now.
And stay away. Forever.
But no one stuck in purgatory receives peace as a punishment. So the knock on my door and the soft “Maddie?” that comes with it isn’t a huge surprise.
I don’t answer. I refuse to engage with the devil.
Which makes me huff an ironic breath into my pillow, because I’ve been engaging with the devil for a while now.
“Mads,” he says, the word muffled, like he’s pressing his face to my door. “Please? Let me in?”
I say no in my head.
He twists the handle and the door opens.
“Oh, it was unlocked. Look at that. Hi,” he says as he enters my space.
Normally, this would be my cue to rage at him. To set him straight. To scream and demand he leave. But that’s what he wants. And I’ll be damned if Tyler Morgan gets one more thing he wants, just because he thinks he deserves it.
Footsteps as he enters. Soft click as the door closes behind him.
“Um… what’s up?” he says.
I shake my head. Face still buried. New tears in my eyes as my cheeks press into the wetness of the ones not yet dry.
After a few seconds he says, “Wow. Uh, can we talk about your room for a second?”
“What?” I snap, turning my head so I can open one eye and get a peek at what he’s doing.
“It’s a mess. Do you need a good housekeeper? Because mine’s gonna need a new place to clean while—”
“Get. The fuck. Out.”
He lists back and forth like he’s unsure which leg he should stand on. Which he should be. Because he doesn’t have one. Finally, “Why do you have this?” he asks, picking up the controller for my drone.
“Don’t touch that,” I say. “It’s fucking expensive.”
“Yeah, no shit it’s expensive,” he says. “This is the Raven 900XZ. Military grade. Why the hell do you have a military-grade drone in your bedroom?”
I jump up off the bed, trip over that goddamned stripper shoe—again!—and stumble towards him to rip the controller from his hands. “It’s my real-estate drone, asshole. To make property videos. Go away.”
“What’s this?” he asks. Now he’s bending down to pick through a pile of dirty clothes on the floor. And I see that he has found—
“Give me that!” I snatch it from him before he can get a good look and hide it behind my back.
“What is that? Is that a loom?” He laughs a little. Which pisses me off even more.
“Yes. It’s a fucking loom. I know how to fly a drone and use a loom. Do you? Asshole.”
He clamps down on his smile, but it’s clear he thinks he’s charming me. Which he is not. Not at. All. Not one little bit. OK. Maybe a little bit, but not enough to make me forget that he’s the source of all my misery.
“It’s kinda tiny,” he says. “Just, y’know, as looms go. Like, what kind of things do you weave with a minuscule, plastic loom?” The smile is back.
“I make potholders, OK? It’s a mindless task that relaxes me.”
“Potholders…” He chuckles a little bit. “Yeah. You used to make those when you were a kid too. I feel like I got one every Christmas.”
“Yeah, and you laughed at me then, too. Asshole.”
“That’s not true,” he says, walking over to my bathroom. “I was charmed beyond belief.” He disappears inside.
I follow. “What the fuck are you doing? Get the hell out of my bathroom!” Christ. He’s like a bull in a china shop. I follow after him, and find him opening my medicine cabinet.
“The fuck are you doing?” I ask, infuriated.
“I dunno. Just, y’know, looking. But it occurs to me now that I probably should’ve asked about this”—he’s holding up my birth control pills—“y’know, before.”
“Yeah, well there’s a lot of things we probably should’ve fucking talked about before I let you stick your dick inside me.”
“I didn’t… come in you, though. Right? I mean, I came on your ass, but the second time we—”
“Get. The fuck. Out.” I grab the pills out of his hand.
“I’m clean, by the way. Promise. I would never have done anything if I wasn’t tested and a total ‘A’ student. Scout’s honor.” He holds up four fingers. Which, of course, isn’t the Scout salute, but who gives a shit?
He’s now back in my bedroom. “Tyler, I swear to God, I’m not in the mood for this charming bullshit act. I know you, remember? It’s not working.”
He looks on my nightstand. “How To Make Friends and Influence People. Ah, c’mon, you don’t need this. You could write it, Mads!“
“Would you stop calling me that!” I grab the book, throw it across the room, and point my finger at his face. “What the fuck do you want?”
He stares at me for a second. Then, without warning, he grabs my cheeks and forces his tongue in my mouth.
‘Forces’ probably isn’t accurate. ‘Works it in’ is more like it. Tenderly. Softly. I melt a little. And then every ounce of resistance I had just kinda melts too, because his kiss is just what I need right now. Just a little kindness. Just a little affection. Just a little…
That is until I come to my senses, and retreat backwards. “Nope. Un-unh. This isn’t gonna work,” I snap.
“What?” he asks, coming toward me. “What’s not gonna work? Why? Why can’t it?”
“Why can’t it? Are you fucking insane?”
“Maybe. It’s been suggested before.” he says, stepping close to me so that I back up and bump into my dresser, which causes some shit to fall off onto the floor.
Including my bright purple vibrator.
He bends down and picks it up. He holds it between us, again not breaking eye contact with me. The he asks, “Where would you like me to put this?”
I shake my head. “I’m not playing this game with you.”
“I’m not playing a game. Honestly, Maddie, I’m just… I’m just trying to make you smile.” He turns on the vibrator and waggles his eyebrows. The buzzing starts low, but gets louder and louder as he fumbles with the controls.
“Wow, man. You really don’t get it at all. I don’t know how I ever fell for your bullshit in the first place. I guess it’s because I was a kid, and I looked up to you, and I believed in you, and”—the vibrator continues to buzz—“and all that fake we’re in-this-togetherness bullshit you used to spout back when we were young. Well, it won’t work on me now. Because you and I both know who you really are.”
The sound of the humming vibrator is the only noise. That and what I imagine is my galloping heartbeat, which is way too fast right now.
And finally, the Tyler Morgan façade drops. His smile falls and his blue eyes seem to darken. He says, “Yeah? Who am I?”
And for a second I see the old Tyler. Underneath the beard. Underneath the lines at the corners of his eyes that beg me to ask where he’s been, what he’s been doing. Underneath the years of separation and sadness.
But fuck it. And fuck him. I don’t need to ask where he’s been. I only need to remember where he wasn’t. So I press in close and I whisper, “You’re just another very bad guy.” I squint at him and nod my head tightly. “That’s who you are.”
My chest is heaving up and down now, my breaths shallow. Somehow, this feels like some kind of moment of truth.
And then, “I’m sorry,” he says. “I’d fuckin’ make it up to you if I knew how. I swear I would. It was just… I was just… my life, Mads. I—It’s not what you think.”
“Yeah? OK. Well, I’m not thinking about your life,” I say. “In fact, I’m not thinking about you at all. I’m only thinking about me.” It sounds very selfish. And it is. But I don’t care. I want him to go away. And if I have to say nasty things to get what I want, I will.
He reaches up to my face again, but before I can pull away, he’s tucking a stray strand of red hair behind my ear.
The vibrator is still on high. The buzzing fills the otherwise silent room as I now hold my breath to keep from damn near hyperventilating.
“I’m trying my best to not think about my life too.”
“So what am I supposed to be? Just another familiar distraction?”
“No,” he says, shaking his head. “No. I don’t have a ton of regrets in life. I really don’t. Not to say there aren’t a ton of things I should regret, it’s just not my gig.”
“Wrong answer,” I whisper. My words are soft now. Low, and sad, and pitiful. “So not what I wanted to hear.”
He swallows. I swallow. He strokes the strand of hair he just pushed away. I let him. I don’t want to let him, but the fight inside me has died a little.
“Except, y’know, the way I handled everything with you, and the way I just failed. Yeah, I regret that a whole fucking lot. So…”
He looks like he’s choking up a little bit. Don’t. Shit. Just don’t.
“Because I loved Scotty. I love Scotty. It’s hard to think of him in the past tense. And I loved you too. Always loved you. I used to tell Evan and Scotty that you were gonna grow up to be a fucking heartbreaker. And Scotty used to always tell me to shut up and watch myself.” He smiles, absently, remembering some long-ago moment with him and my brother. “And when I saw you, up there dancing… I saw you. I think. That’s the only way I can explain it. Remember I told you I dreamed about you?”
I think I nod. I’m not really sure.
“I did. I dreamed of an angel who was kind to me even though I didn’t deserve it. An angel who I was trying to help. In my dream, I realized that it wouldn’t be possible for me to save everyone, but this angel… this kind angel with the beautiful green eyes and the red hair… I could save her. And I didn’t know it was you, because I hadn’t seen you in so long, but…”
He bows his head. I can feel the tears welling up in me. Which I fight.
“Did you?” I ask.
“Did I what?” he says.
“Save me. In your dream. Did you save me?”
He closes his eyes and shakes his head. “No. No. But I never stopped trying. And that’s why I can’t stop now.”
He opens his eyes and looks deep into me. And then he closes the already narrow space between us and kisses me gently on my cheek. And I puff out a breath and the tears just pour out.
I close my eyes and let him place his mouth against my ear, powerless to move. Caught in a web of memories, and laughter, and shared happiness that I want back so badly my chest aches with the loss of it all. And when he says, “So you’re not a distraction. You’re the only hope I have left,” I cry. Hard.
He kisses the sobs coming out of my mouth. He covers them, captures them, and holds them between us like he’s desperate to make them stop and this is the only way he knows how.
And the next thing I know, the fucking vibrator is between my legs, pushing up against my pussy through the thin cotton of the boy shorts I have on.
His other hand squeezes my hip, pressing into my flesh until it burns, and even when I twist and squirm, he refuses to let me go.
I don’t even have the energy to resist. I can’t do anything but submit. Because I’m just too tired of losing to lose again. And there’s no way I’m not gonna do this. When all you have left in the world is this one bad thing, you keep it. You hold on to it for as long as you can because it’s all you’ve got left. It doesn’t even matter that it’s bad for you. It doesn’t even matter that it’s the worst possible decision. It doesn’t even matter if it’s killing you.
Hell, maybe that’s why all this is happening? Maybe we’re both back on top of Mount Everest, looking down at that fucking fall, thinking… it ain’t so bad when you’ve already done it and lived.
The devil you know is the one you keep.
“What can I do? Tell me what it is you need and I’ll give it to you. Anything,” he says.
My mind races. There are so many things I need that Tyler could provide. And right at the top of that list is money. Tyler could pay off my debt to Carlos. Tyler could probably fund my whole real estate business endeavor. Tyler could…
What the hell am I even saying to myself? Even if this weren’t Tyler Morgan, I could never ask for that. I would never ask for that. It’s one thing if you’ve built something together with someone else, it’s another thing entirely to take what someone else has. But… there is one other thing I feel I need right now. And it is something I can ask for.
“Fuck me,” I say into his kiss, reaching for his cock beneath his jeans.
He doesn’t wait for another invitation. He just pulls me backwards, his mouth still on mine, refusing to let my sobs escape. Until the back of his legs bump into the mattress and he sits down.
He doesn’t wait then either. Our eyes don’t even have time to meet. He just pulls me down with one hand until I flop next to him onto the mess of covers, and he rolls me over onto my back, pulling my shorts off as I rip the t-shirt off over my head, and then he lifts my legs up as I feel the vibrator pressing against my clit.
Warm wetness pools as he plays, and I moan. I can’t help myself. I want him.
He slides the vibrator down, all coated and slick with my desire, and pushes it into my pussy. I close my eyes, my fingertips picking up where the vibrator left off, rubbing myself in small, quick circles as he fucks me with the toy.
His chest covers my breasts now, his hand still pumping in and out as he continues to kiss me, his hard cock pressing against my outer thigh, practically begging me to touch him.
I undo his belt one-handed, enjoying the sound of the jingling buckle, and then my hand slides inside and takes hold with such force, it’s like a promise to never let go.
It’s a lie, but aren’t all promises lies anyway?
“Tell me to stop,” he says, breath heavy and coming out ragged.
“Keep going,” I say. Meaning it as I unzip his jeans, slide them over his hips, and start furiously pumping his cock.
I’m gonna take what I want for once. And right now, I want this. So I squirm underneath him and flip over, pushing my ass in the air like an invitation. “Take me from behind,” I moan. “Right now.”
He slaps my ass as he backs off the bed and stands up. Two seconds later he’s got his boots, pants and shirt off. Scarred and naked, he locks his eyes with mine as I watch over my shoulder.
We hold our stare as both hands grip my ass and he slides his cock inside me.
TYLER
I did a shitty job at following my plan about how I would approach her delicately when I entered her room. So, I plan to make up for it by doing an excellent job of not being delicate at all now that I’ve entered her.
I couldn’t be even if I wanted to. I am drawn to her. I need her. We are destined.
I tell her this with my glare, holding her gaze with mine as I push my cock forward, grinding into her from behind, never breaking eye contact. That is until the very last push as I force her ass into my hips - trying to pull her completely through me - and her eyes close, her head and neck arch backwards, and she lets out a low, guttural moan that causes the muscles in my calves to tighten and my knees to dig into the edge of the mattress.
The vibrator is still buzzing on the bed. I take it up and reach down in front of my thigh, feeling the vibration as it rubs against my balls. I slip it forward to meet the lips of her slick, wet pussy that are gripping my shaft so tight, and then let it come to rest on her clit. I continue stroking in and out of her, all the while being sure to keep what has turned into a second dick (only far less charming and noteworthy than my own) planted on that spot that makes her whimper.
“How’s that feel?” I mutter out, my mouth just above a whisper. Just loud enough for her to hear the question over the hum of the vibrator and the sound of her own moans.
“Good,” she whines back.
“Just good?” I ask.
But before I let her answer the question, I slide the vibrator back to the opening I’m currently pouring myself into and work the very tip of the second dick inside of her as well, stretching her just that much more open and continuing to thrust back and forth while the vibrator massages the inside of her walls. She begins panting.
“How ‘bout now?” I ask.
“Fuck yeah,” she groans back.
Her hands splay out in front of her, gripping at the sheets, her arms stiffening and her lower back arching more as she continues pressing into me. I pull the vibrator away and lay it on the bed.
“What are you doing?” she pleads. “That was amazing.”
“No,” I whisper as I bend over to kiss her shoulder blades and bury my face in her hair. “That wasn’t amazing. This is amazing.”
And before she can ask ‘what?’ I’m up on the bed, my knees under me, her pulled back onto my dick, ass pressed into my thighs like she’s sitting on my lap, her legs sticking out behind me, and I tell her, “Put your arms out in front of you. Like Supergirl. I’m gonna make you fly.”
“What?” she says.
I take both of her arms, throw them out in front of her, grab her hips as tightly as I can, and pound in and out of her ferociously, bouncing her on my cock.
“Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit,” she huffs with each thrust.
She keeps her arms suspended in the air that way like the sexiest goddamn super-hero ever, flying through the sky, propelled forward by the force of our fucking. I support her weight with my hands on her hips and the hard, fast motion of my thighs driving into her creamy skin, over and over again. I can feel her muscles tighten as she strains to hold herself aloft and it just makes me fuck her harder.
I keep my right hand in place and with my left, I take up a fistful of silky red. I yank her hair back, exposing her neck to the ceiling and her hands now fly up to grab at my fist, making sure to keep it locked there on her head.
Or so I think.
Because suddenly, she’s pulling my hand away from her hair and bringing it around to rest on her throat.
“Here,” she pants. “Squeeze.”
I lean back, allow myself to land in a full sit with my heels beneath me, her legs straddled behind me, and both of us upright, my right arm reaching around her chest and pinching her left nipple, and my left hand wrapped firmly around her gorgeous neck. Her hair rising up and spilling down as we fuck makes me think of flames being blown in the wind. Flames that refuse to be extinguished. She’s springing up and down on my balls, almost crushing them with every strike—and I fucking love it. I want to be crushed by her. Pulverized into ash and blown into the wind too.
Her hand is now reaching frantically for the vibrator, still singing its vibrator melody somewhere in the sheets. She finds it, forces it onto her clit again, and says, “Harder.”
I’m not sure if she means pinch her harder, fuck her harder, or choke her harder, so I decide to be safe and just go with all three.
I squeeze her nipple and she shrieks. I tighten my grip on her throat and she coughs out, “yes.” And I fuck her with the force of a tornado, sweat starting to form on my brow and drip down onto her already slick and sweaty flesh… and she comes.
She thrashes back into me so hard that we both collapse backwards off the bed and land in a heap on the floor. I make sure to move the hand that’s around her throat so that I don’t crush her goddamn windpipe and I twist to stay underneath her so that I mostly break her fall, very nearly snapping my dick free from my body in the process. But luckily it stays attached, which is a good thing, because I still have more for it to do.
“You hurt?” she asks. Which, given our current status with each other might either be a question of concern or hope.
“Yeah, I’m ok,” I tell her. “By the way,” I add, “I was right.”
“About what?” she pants.
“You should write a book. THAT’S how you win friends and influence motherfuckers.”
MADDIE
“Shut up and fuck me,” I tell him back. This is not at all what I planned on doing with Tyler Morgan tonight. And that pisses me off. Because it makes me weak. I mean, am I that desperate and needy that a few charming words from him make everything OK?
I disgust myself.
“I will,” he says. “I’m just gonna do it slow now.” He repositions us so he’s on top of me, his forearms resting on the floor on either side of my head, his legs straddling mine so that each rocking movement of his hips stimulates my clit in just the right way.
He winks. There’s even a mischievous twinkle in his eye as he does it. Which is charming. I’m not gonna deny that. Tyler is one hundred percent charisma. He draws people to him without even trying. He should write that stupid book, not me.
I make a face at his wink.
“What?” he asks, kissing my frown away. And then he kisses my mouth, whispering, “What could I possibly be doing wrong now?” as he does it.
I have a list. Ten things on it, at least.
But I don’t feel like explaining. He doesn’t even deserve my explanation. So I just kiss him back and make the whole conversation go away.
Sex with Tyler Morgan is something I can handle right now. All these feelings he suddenly wants to talk about? No. I won’t do it.
“Tell me,” Tyler prods.
“Tell you what?” I ask, trying to distract him by sliding my fingernails up and down his back.
His spine arches in response, but it’s not enough. Because he says, “Why do you look like you want to kill me when everything we’re doing right now finally feels right?”
I close my eyes and concentrate on how he feels instead. Not his feelings, but how he feels inside me. “Is this how you want to come?” I ask, eyes still closed. “This boring slow fuck is how you want to remember me?”
My eyes open just in time to see him frown. And I get the feeling my dismissal is just another cue for him to keep asking questions. So I stop that shit before it starts and push him off me.
He gives in and rolls off to the side, still frowning, still looking like he’s gonna keep talking, but I know just what to do.
I grab his dick, still wet with my come, and slide my palm up and down his shaft in a slow, twisting motion.
He practically growls in response.
Which, I can’t deny, turns me on a little. But more importantly, it takes his mind off what’s not being said.
I climb on top of him, my hand still very busy keeping him quiet as my legs settle between his knees, and then it’s my turn to wink.
The smile he shoots back sums up everything I hate and love about Tyler. And the gruff chuckle has my pussy throbbing. I keep my eyes locked on his as I lower my mouth to his cock, my tongue reaching for his tip, and hike my ass up in the air just as I cover his head with my lips and slide my mouth down his shaft.
His hands go to my hair, grabbing it in fistfuls. A shiver runs through my body as I think about the way he was pulling it a few minutes ago. I take him deeper into my throat, his hands responding to the call, pushing my head down until his cock is practically in my throat. I gag, pull away, but he holds me there until saliva is pooling in my mouth. I pull back again, but he doesn’t relent and the pool becomes a waterfall spilling over my lips and down my chin.
Finally, he lets up and I draw back, sucking in air, watching him watch me. His smile is gone, no frown replacing it. He’s just looking at me like… like I’m his fucking salvation. Like I’m the only hope he has left.
I dive back down to try to erase that look, my eyes closed now, my mouth working him as I bob my head to the rhythm of his rocking hips.
He fists my hair again, but this time he tugs my head up until his cock falls out of my mouth. Erect, and red, and swollen, and glistening wet from my sucking and pumping.
I don’t want to look. I refuse to look at him.
“Maddie,” he groans, the word just a hint above silent.
I shake my head and try to suck his cock again, but he holds me by the hair, tugging it up towards him now, like it’s a leash and he’s leading me.
“Shut up,” I say, my voice as husky and low as his. “Just shut up.”
He opens his mouth as if to reply, but then he closes his eyes and sighs. Giving up or giving in, I don’t really care. Because he lets me resume.
I forget everything as I suck him off. One hand reaching down to play with his balls, which makes him tense up and box me in with his knees.
For some reason that makes me want to cry. I’m not sure if it’s because I like the way he’s surrounding me right now, when the whole world is falling apart and every day I fight the inevitable decline, but every night I close my eyes feeling utterly alone and defeated, and being boxed in by Tyler wipes all that away. Or if it’s because I’m just lonely and haven’t had anyone make me feel so… protected in so long.
Either way, I can’t deny the sadness of the moment. So I don’t. I embrace it. I let the tears flow, my face hidden by my long, flaming-red hair. And I just suck his cock until everything goes tight. His body. His grip on my hair. The pressure of his knees against my shoulders.
He urges me to back off, probably so he can put me on top of him before he comes. But if I do that, he’ll see my face. He’ll see through my charade. He’ll see everything and I don’t want him to see anything.
So I refuse and just work harder. I suck him until he starts moaning. I flatten my tongue on his shaft and force myself to take him deeper into my throat. And when I swallow, the muscles pushing against his cock in a wave do him in.
He comes.
And I take it. Because I can take it. I swallow every drop. I let him fist my hair until my scalp stings. And when it’s finally over I have it all back together. The unraveling of Maddie Clayton has wrapped back up into a tightly wound ball of nothing.
I say, “Take me to the shower,” because I need to feel clean after everything that’s happened these past few days. And he does, cracking some boyishly-charming joke that hits me hard. Because I love that part of him. The innocent Tyler. The one I could always count on. The one who I loved once.
But I don’t love the one who loves me now.
I’m falling and it’s a long fucking way down. And I know, if I get my hopes up that Tyler will catch me before I splat, he’ll only disappoint me again.
I can take a lot, but I can’t take that.
I can’t fucking do it again.
I lean against the wall of the shower, water splashing against my hip as Tyler soaps me up. He fingers me, and plays with my breasts. And we kiss and it feels good. So fucking good. I even talk a little, but beg for bed because I’m exhausted.
It’s not a lie, either. I am exhausted. So, so tired of this fight I never seem to win.
He dries me off. It’s a tender gesture that once upon a time I’d have appreciated more. And then he leads me to my bed, and we climb in, and he talks, and I pretend to live this new fantasy with him. Until finally, I don’t have to pretend anymore. Because he falls asleep, or I fall asleep, or who the fuck cares.
All I know is that the day finally ends.
I wake early by some miracle of fate, or punishment, or maybe it’s the devil on my shoulder just calling me home to hell.
Either way, I heed the call and get up for my new shift at Pete’s, quietly gather my clothes and dress in the new dawn light, grab the car keys left carelessly on the counter, write two notes, leaving one behind, then exit the house with the other note clutched tightly in my hand.
I lift his windshield wiper, slide the piece of paper under it so that it’ll be the first thing he sees when he comes outside, and then go get into Annie’s car and drive off.
The note inside said, Borrowing your car. Be back around noon.
The note on Tyler’s window said, If you love me then please, please stay away.
I don’t want to be his hope. I don’t even have enough hope for myself.