Dalt
“I’m sorry, Dalt. You’re right. I should’ve trusted you. But when your father made it clear to me the kind of life you have in California, the way you grew up, the future you had waiting for you, I believed him when he said we weren’t right for each other, and that it would never work out.”
“Oh, I get it. You’re like a reverse snob. You think people with money can’t relate to down home people like you and your family. We’re not regular enough folks for you.”
I can’t stop myself from spitting out the angry words. I’m pissed off, and at the same time wounded by the way she mistrusted me, by how little she thought of my integrity. What the actual hell? How can she say she loved me and have thought so little of me?
“No…I…” she sounds exhausted, searching for the words to explain why she thought I could be capable of being the same kind of heartless prick as my father. “I told you what it was like after my dad died. We literally had nothing but our farm animals. There were times if we wanted to eat, we had to eat what we grew ourselves. You probably wore Armani hockey pads when you were growing up. I wore dollar store two for one specials. Not hockey pads, but you know what I mean.” She sucks her bottom lip between her teeth, waiting for me to say something. I don’t.
She lets out a long breath and continues, “You drive a Maserati. I have a rusted 1982 Ford pick-up which sometimes doubles as a manure hauler.”
She gives me a little smile, but I don’t say a word. I let her keep talking to explain how we got here to this screwed up place in our relationship. I mean, here I am sitting stark naked with the woman of my dreams, the woman I’ve been losing my mind over for two years, and we’re discussing how my fucking father managed to ruin yet another important part of my life.
“You told me how your mom would take you and Garrett to the theater to see plays when you were younger.”
Her words remind me of the other woman in my life my father fucked over. I try to focus on what Nikki’s saying, instead of thinking about all the other fucked up things the bastard has done.
“We had one staticky channel on an old television set, sometimes two if the antenna on the roof was having a good day; my fancy form of entertainment. And then, if my mom hadn’t thrown his sorry ass out, you know what almost happened with Bert. I don’t want sympathy. I’m just trying to explain where I was coming from. My life wasn’t even in the same stratosphere as yours. But I didn’t spend time boo-hooing over the differences of my life and yours because someone like you wasn’t even on my radar. I had never considered the possibility of a guy like you in my life. But then, somehow, you were.” She stops and takes a deep breath.
Maybe I’m slow on the uptake but I still don’t get why she believed my father.
“It didn’t take much to convince me my life was too screwed up to drag you into it, to convince me I wasn’t good enough for you. I didn’t think beyond any of the different life experiences nonsense much anyway because I was wrecked thinking about the other things your father told me. Thinking about you marrying someone else? It hurt. Really hurt. The pain was physical. I thought I was having a heart attack. I couldn’t even breathe, let alone think straight.”
She places her hand on mine and it occurs to me how petite and fragile her hand is on mine.
“After I got past the initial pain, I tried to convince myself the wealthy California girl was better for you, the kind of girl who fit into your lifestyle and could make you happy…until I saw you and the hurt floodgates reopened, followed by a volcano of anger.” She hesitates. “I thought about scratching her eyes out. But, well, I don’t like to fly.”
One corner of her mouth quirks up and she shrugs. I know what she’s doing. She’s trying to make a joke out of this fucked up situation. It’s the same thing we always used to do: joke around about everything, keep everything light. But I don’t smile or return the sarcasm like I would have done in the past. I’m trying to process what she’s telling me. I can’t find a reason to smile about any of this.
Nikki slides off the bed and walks over to the towel she had dropped on the floor. I can’t take my eyes off her as she bends to pick it up and then holds it in front of her body.
She’s an artist’s dream of God’s flawless female form: perfect curves, perfect tits—which look as if they’re slightly larger than I remember—long blonde hair, creamy skin, full pouty lips, soul-penetrating eyes. Christ. Not just an artist’s dream, she’s every man’s wet dream come to life. But the first time I saw her she wasn’t beautiful. I mean, she was, I just couldn’t tell.
It was at a soccer game. The girls’ team was having a stellar season and we’d heard about the new freshman who was breaking records all over the field. Some of the other guys and I went to a home game to check out the new soccer star.
We had practice and got there late. The game was into the second quarter. We knew immediately the girl with blue bangs and long blonde ponytail swaying from side to side as she out-maneuvered her opponents was the new hotshot on the team. She was lightning fast, dribbling the ball down field, cutting in one direction with the ball while glaring right into her opponent’s eyes and then making a quick cut in the other direction to fake out the opposing player. Then setting up the perfect pass strategy, she placed herself in the right place to rocket launch the ball into the net.
The guys were blown away. Her skills were off the charts. But as for her physical appearance, she was covered in mud and sweat; no indication of the goddess under all the grime.
I knew I had to find out who number five on the soccer team was. Something pulled at me, told me I had to meet her and find out more about her. I told the guys I’d meet them back at the house. They didn’t pay attention to me when I took off and chased after her like a puppy chasing a ball as she was leaving the field. She was gathering her things from the team bench and stuffing them into a gym bag.
“Hey.” The intelligent greeting the only thing I could think of to say.
When she looked up and hit me with those baby blues, I had to remind myself to breathe.
“Hey.” One word. That was it and she started walking off the field toward the field house. I stood baffled for a moment. I’d never had a problem talking to a girl before and they usually didn’t walk away from me when I did. I ran to catch up to her.
“Great game. You were amazing out there.”
“Yeah, thanks.” She just kept walking, even picked up the pace like she was trying to get away from me.
“I’m…I’m Dalt by the way.” Like an idiot I stuck my hand out to shake hers. She stopped and stared at my outstretched hand but didn’t make a move because her hands were full with her bag and some of the equipment.
“I know who you are, hockey boy.” The words ‘hockey boy’ came out like they tasted sour on her tongue. And she started walking away from me again. I couldn’t believe it. When I caught up to her, she stopped and turned to me.
“What do you want, hockey boy?” She threw me off my game so bad, I think I stuttered.
“I…um…your name would be nice for starters.”
“For starters?” She quirked a brow.
“Then I thought you might like to get a beer or a burger or something at the Thirsty Whale.” She scanned my body from head to toe and back up. Then the damnedest thing happened.
“No thanks. I don’t do dates. Not looking for a boyfriend. I just like to, you know, keep my options open.” Say what, now! Had she just turned me down for a date? Not that a burger and beer was really a date but I had never even offered that much to a girl I didn’t know. I didn’t want them getting the wrong idea, thinking I was asking them on a date.
I was dumbfounded. It took me a minute to regain my equilibrium and glance up to see her twenty feet ahead of me. And you guessed it. I chased her just like a fucking puck bunny.
“That’s good because I don’t do dates either. I’m not boyfriend material, if you know what I mean. Just sort of play the field.” Christ. I babbled like a nervous virgin, grinned like an ass, and flicked my thumb over my shoulder in the direction of the field. She gave me a sideways glance like I was some kind of lunatic and kept walking.
“Just figured it was dinner time and you were probably heading to eat anyway. I thought I’d offer. Have you ever been there?”
She stopped, shrugged and let out a sigh. “Where?”
“The…the Thirsty Whale.”
“No. Not yet.”
“Awesome. Then let me take you. My treat.” Her eyes narrowed and I thought she was getting ready to walk away once more.
“Not a date, just a celebratory dinner for the great game you played. You know, one athlete to another.” I remember wondering what the ever-loving hell I was talking about.
She pursed her lips and sighed again. “Okay. I have to shower. Wait for me outside the locker room,” I shit you not, I had to stop myself from clapping and jumping up and down like a kid on Christmas morning.
“Hey, soccer girl?” I called to her as she pushed the door open to the field house.
“Yeah?”
“What’s your name?”
“Nikki.” The corners of her mouth tipped up in a coy smile and ladies and gentlemen, game over. I was already totally fucked.
Twenty minutes later when she walked out of the locker room, her hair in braids, wearing a red wool knitted hat, Mickey Mouse leggings, a thick black wool army sweater that appeared to be three sizes too big for her, and black Dr. Marten boots, I think my heart stopped beating for a few seconds. She was the most beautiful girl I’d ever seen.
End of story. We were together from then on. Once I got to know her, I found out there was way more to Nikki than physical beauty.
Even though she had some rough patches in her life, like losing her dad when she was only twelve and then having to deal with a scumbag stepfather, those things never defined her. She held onto her love for life, her optimism, and her determination to make her way.
Sure, her experiences may have caused her to adapt by taking on a bit more of a tough warrior exterior off the soccer field as well as on, but I saw the vulnerability, the touches of insecurity which revealed a glimpse of her need for someone to have her back. I wanted that someone to be me. I even made up a silly nickname for her, my Strawberry Bud. Like one of those candies, hard on the outside but gooey, sweet warmth on the inside.
What a joke. I was supposed to have her back. Instead, because she hooked up with me, she crossed paths with my father. Not even Nikki is strong enough to fight a seasoned monster like him. He ripped her heart out and kicked her when she was down.
Still, her lack of faith in me breaks my heart. We were good together, until she bought the whole bullshit story the bastard sold her, never once giving me the benefit of the doubt.
“I’m sorry, Dalt.” Her hushed words remind me she’s standing there watching me, no doubt waiting for me to say something. When I don’t, she says, “I believed everything your father said because…I don’ know…maybe you’re right, maybe I am some kind of reverse snob. I was persuaded into thinking our lives were too different for you to ever pick me over Malib…over the girl in California. I guess…I guess I didn’t think I deserved you. Guess that’s why it was easy for him to convince me of all the lies.”
Her voice is quiet, defeated. She turns toward the door. I don’t tell her she’s wrong or move to stop her. I can’t. My brain is still doing battle with my heart.
For two years she’s avoided me, hated me, put us both through hell, all because she didn’t believe in me enough to know I would never do something like the disgusting thing my father pulled.
She believed I was capable of that kind of cruelty.
The thought keeps hammering in my head.
The door slamming closed jerks me out of my thoughts. I sit frozen in place, unable to wrap my head around everything that’s happened between us. Although my brain may be trying to hold me captive, spouting all the clichés about love and trust, my heart wins the battle and wills me to move.
“Wait! Nikki!” I jump off the bed. I’m still naked, but I can’t take time to find clothes. I can’t lose her, can’t let her walk out of my life again. I’m so fucking in love with her. I can’t think about the shit that pulled us apart. I just need to figure out a way to put us back together.
When I step into the hallway, she’s standing outside the door sobbing. Sobbing! My Nik, who hates to cry. I put myself in her place, think about what she must have felt the night my father ambushed her with lies, what she must have been going through all these months. My father is a malevolent force too great for any sweet, unsuspecting girl to overcome. Hell. He even had me convinced I needed to follow the path he chose for me. Not anymore. Never again.
I reach out for her hand and thread my fingers through hers. “You said you were in love with me, Nik, as in were in love in the past tense or are you still in love with me?” She’s clutching the towel in front of her and has her head down, eyes fixed on the floor as she gasps for air in between sobs.
I place my hand under her chin and tilt her head up to look into her eyes. The joy has been replaced by shimmering sapphire pools of sadness. Fuck. What have I done to her? My father and I did a great job of draining the happiness and warmth from those beautiful blue eyes.
“It’s not a trick question, Bud. Are you still in love with me or not?”
If she says no, I’ll die for the second time today.
I move closer. We’re still holding hands and her other arm is between us grasping her towel. Bowing my head and placing my forehead on hers, I take a minute to breathe in her sweet strawberry scent, another reason for her nickname.
God. I’ve missed her scent filling my senses, infusing my sheets.
“Because I’m still so in love with you, I want to swallow you and then I’ll never have to let you go. I can just keep you inside of me forever,” I say in a soft voice. I want to give her a minute to let my words permeate her heart and mind. “Please tell me I haven’t lost you. Please tell me you still love me.”
I should have told her how much I love her a long time ago. If she knew, she would never have believed my manipulative father. She still hasn’t said a word. She gazes at me, her beautiful eyes glistening. The sadness has been replaced by questioning uncertainty.
“Say something, baby. You’re driving me crazy here.”
“I’ve been such a fool, Dalt. How can you still love me?” she whispers.
“I’m not going to argue with you, soccer girl. You’ve been seriously foolish not to see how much I love you.” I place a kiss on the tip of her nose. “But I was an even bigger fool not to say the words out loud, tell you how much you mean to me. How about we make a deal?”
She scowls. “I think I’ve had just about enough deals from you Walkers.”
“Not that kind of fuck wad deal.” I feather kisses over the tears on her cheek. “I mean a deal to start over.”
I want to crash my mouth to hers. Let my lips show her what I’m feeling. But she’s been living in an even worse kind of hell than I have these past months, hearing my father’s sick lies play on repeat inside her head. I have to let her make the decision where she wants to go from here. Wherever it is, I fucking hope it includes me.
“A deal to erase the past two years.” Moving further down her face, I place another kiss on the side of her lips. They taste salty sweet. “A deal to forget all the past crap and just remember how much we love each other.” I touch another gentle kiss to the other side of her lips. “What do ya say? Can you do that for me?”
“I love you so much, Dalt.” She throws her arms around my neck and her towel falls to the floor. We’re skin to skin. Her body pressed onto mine. My cock is already straining to be welcomed home.
She showers my face with kisses and after a moment we’re both giggling. Her laughter is the most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard. I let out the huge breath I didn’t even know I was holding. I can breathe freely for the first time in a long time. My world is back on its correct orbital path. I’m centered, not spinning out of control. I know where I’m going, what I need to do. I have my girl back in my arms where she belongs. It’s just the beginning of the way I’m going to make her eyes twinkle with happiness like they did before.
“You want to swallow me to keep me inside of you all the time? That’s kind of weirdo creepy, hockey boy,” she teases. “By the way, you do realize those Strawberry Bud candies are gross, right?”
There’s my little smartass bringing me back to reality. No poetic mush for her.
I lift her off her feet and spin her around before walking her back to the bed to finish what we started. The need for her raging through my body is overpowering.
“I don’t know about the candy, but my girl is so fucking sweet I’m going to begin the swallowing right this very second.” I lay her across the bed.
Her face is flushed red from crying and her eyes are swollen. Droplets of tears cling to her long golden lashes. She’s the most gorgeous thing I’ve ever seen. And the way those eyes are beaming up at me, filled with tenderness fueled by wanton need, has my heart racing fast enough to crack a rib.
I crawl over her. I can sense the tension of her arousal. Fire races from my body to hers. Placing my hands on either side of her face, I lean in and gaze directly into her smoldering liquid eyes. I trace the seam of her lips with my tongue.
She opens with a hungry invitation and I’m right there with her, starving for what I’ve been missing all these months. Our tongues swirl and curl together. We feed off each other with ravenous urgency, making up for the time we’ve lost.
I’m going to kill my fucking father for causing us to lose that time.
The angry thought flashes across my mind, but I push it away. I can’t think about him now. I have Nikki, my Nikki, here writhing under me. She’s the only person I want to think about. My world is right when I’m with her.
“Nik,” I moan against her lips. “There’s about a million things I want to do to you, and I promise I’m going to do every one of them…but…right now I need to fuck you so hard and deep….”
“Do it. Do it, Dalt. Hard,” she demands, and wraps her legs around my waist, pressing her heels into my back.
I close my eyes and with one quick thrust I ram myself home. Christ. She’s so wet and tight. Even though it’s not our first time, every time I fuck her it feels like it is.
My need for her is primitive. I keep pumping into her with relentless thrusts, harder and faster, like I’m trying to punish her. Punish her for not believing in me enough, punish her for keeping us apart for all these months, punish her for making me love her so much there’s no air in my world if she’s not in it. There’s nothing soft or gentle about it. This is months of wanting her, needing her, and not being able to have her.
My cock is ruthless, plowing into her. With each deep, hard thrust she clenches me, grips me tighter, and moans my name, like she’s begging me to relieve her own frustrated need. I’m hanging on to my control by a thread. The inferno of pleasure keeps building like a ticking bomb ready to detonate as we keep kissing, touching, groaning, and I keep pounding into her.
“Fuck, Nik. It’s so good. I can’t hold back. I’m gonna come.”
“Dalt! Oh God. Yes!” She screams as she ignites in forceful spasms around me. With one more deep thrust I explode into her. Her soft, warm pussy keeps milking my cock with tight clenches, while I fill her with what seems like never ending pulses of heated release.
When I collapse on top of her we’re both gasping for air. Fucking Nikki is beyond any physical or emotional experience I’ve ever had. With her I’m completely out of control, unguarded, defenseless. It’s almost like a supernatural out of body experience.
Pushing myself up on my elbows, I place a soft kiss on her lips.
She puts her hand on the nape of my neck to pull me in closer. “Wow that…that was…”
“Yeah. It was.” I never want to pull out. I could stay like this forever. Only then, when I finally slide out of her do I remember. “Oh fuck.”
“I know. I don’t want to move either. I just want you inside me all the time.” She sighs.
“No…I mean yes, babe. I wish I could stay inside you forever but…shit…no condom. Sorry. Second time you’ve made me this crazy I forgot what I was doing.”
Her relaxed muscles stiffen underneath me when I mention the lack of a condom.
“It’s…it’s okay. I’m on the pill this time.”
This time.
We got lucky the last time, the only other time in my life I was senseless out of my mind with hunger for her and forgot to saddle up. Nikki has that effect on me. It was the night we had been out celebrating after our winning games. When Nikki climbed on my lap in the car and begged me to fuck her, chasing her Jägermeister fueled desire, I was triggered to a DEFCON 1 and couldn’t get inside her fast enough.
I don’t ask why she’s been taking the pill, since we haven’t been together. I know she’s been with other guys in the months we’ve been apart and it kills me, but I haven’t exactly been a saint. I assume her tense reaction to my lack of protection is because she’s worried about where my dick has been. I continue trailing kisses down her neck.
“You don’t have to worry, babe. I haven’t been with anyone since the last time we were together.” I gave up trying to forget Nikki by fucking my way through the puck bunnies after the night of the keg party. I knew there was no way I could ever forget her by using meaningless one-night stands.
“You haven’t?” she laces her fingers into my hair and uses it to tug my head up to look into my eyes.
“Oww-wah?”
“But it was months ago. Like the beginning of the semester at the—”
“At the first keg party we had at our house. Yeah. I remember. Like I said, the next morning I rushed out and got this tattoo like some lovesick co-ed. That night, it’s all I’ve been living on…thinking about for all these months.”
“You were pretty drunk. I wasn’t sure you even remembered, let alone this.” She lets go of my hair and trails her fingers over the infinity tattoo.
“Not remember? Are you kidding me, Bud? I remember every single thing about you from every time we’ve ever been together. The way you purse your lips to one side when I say something that annoys you, the way your eyes get all liquidy when I say something romantic, or the way they get all fiery when I say something dirty, the way you taste, your scent, how your fingers feel touching me, how your lips feel wrapped around me, how it feels to be inside you, how your nipples respond to my touch.” I run my fingertips across one of her breasts with a light touch and her nipple puckers in response just like it always does. Also something I remember: she loves a little sweet dirty talk. If I have to, I’ll keep whispering in her ear 24/7 to keep her wet just for me.
“Dalt? Mmmm.”
Fuuuck. She’s moaning and arching into me and my dick is as hard as granite. She, on the other hand, is soft and warm from the flush of our lovemaking and she smells like heaven.
“Yeah? What is it babe?”
“Thank you for telling me that. I love you,” she whispers and then begins nibbling and sucking a path down my neck.
Now I understand how the Grinch’s heart grew ten sizes inside his chest, because it’s exactly what mine just did.
“I love you too, Nik.” I press a hard kiss onto her lips and rock my hips into her to show her what she does to me. I’m rigid with need, straining to push into her once more.
“Mmm. As much as I want to flip you over and ride you like a surfboard, I’m starving.” Her words touch my lips.
Say what?
I lift my head to look at her just to make sure I heard her right. Her beautiful face is still flushed but now languid with contentment. “Did…did you just say you want to ride me like a surfboard, Beyoncé?” I chuckle, remembering how Nik always used these inventive terms to describe my cock or how she was going to ride it: ‘ride the bull’, ‘nail your love hammer’, ‘hide the puck’, a few examples of her creativity. They would have been ridiculous if they hadn’t come from Nikki’s prolific imagination. Slipping out of her delectable lips, the peculiar metaphors succeeded in sending surges of warm blood down to said ‘love hammer.’ Surfboard is a new one, but the idea is having the same, even more enlarging, effect.
“What? Dak’s been teaching Trace the positions and dynamics for surfing and she’s been explaining them to me. We both decided surfing is like sex. You have to get up on the board, wait for the climax of the wave, grip the board with everything you have, and then ride the wave to blissful completion. Trace and I said it’s like fucking and Dalt said, ‘Well, yeah, almost as good.’ Sooo, I’m going to ride you like a surfboard.” She tilts her head and gives me a cute little grin and then taps the tip of my nose. Like I said, every man’s wet dream.
“The thought of you riding me any way you want is fine by me, but please stop talking about Dak and his surfboard while you’re talking about riding mine.” She giggles under me and the sensation penetrates my soul. “Tell you what, if you promise to give me a surfing lesson afterwards I’ll treat you to those blueberry pancakes now.”
“Oh, you’re definitely treating me to those pancakes, hockey boy. You already promised those if I went running with you.” She pushes me off her and scoots off the bed.
“No surfing lessons?” I pout and give her my best puppy dog eyes.
“You are totally getting those surfing lessons. But for that I expect dinner.” She winks and walks out of the room with a little sway to her hips. My dick twitches in hopeful anticipation. Sorry, dude. Hang onto the thought, though.