Codi
We lie as close as any two people could in a single moment. Our naked limbs intertwine, the hard line of his stomach and the soft of mine pressed together in a kiss of skin. My breasts are pushed heavily against his chest, his heart beating fast and capably in his body, so loud I can feel it thumping against my skin, causing mine to do the same. His right arm pillows my head, his head twisted into my hair, tipping my neck back securely, giving him full access to my face. My left arm offers him the same cushioning for his head, my nails dragging up and down the naked skin of his back; over and over again. Up and down. Continuously. Our free hands lay entwined between us, his thumb running ceaseless circles along my wrist.
We’re quiet, save our breathing, content in watching one another in the muted light of my bedroom.
The monsters in his mind are plaguing him, dancing in the forefront of his mind so eagerly I can see their torture. It shines from the gray pools, hurting my heart.
I wish he’d talk to me. Confide in me to what’s drowning him so heavily in hate.
He warned me he was a monster. That he was dark. From the very beginning. Still, even now, I don’t see it. Not the way he does anyway. I see dark and twisted thoughts circling his mind. I see the need he feels to be consumed by them. But what I cling to, what’s most important is that I see his want to drown them, to suffocate them from the oxygen they use to breathe until they’re no more. He wants, more than anything, to divest himself of their presence within him.
He’s punishing himself for something. Suffering through demons I don’t think he even understands. He’s conflicted and I don’t know how to help him. I feel powerless.
“Random fact,” he croaks out, pausing to clear his throat. “I didn’t cry at my mom’s funeral. I wasn’t allowed. He warned us, my father, not to embarrass him with theatrics.”
My heart cracks at the fourteen-year-old boy I see in his eyes as he makes his confession. Stripped away is his power, his secrets, his dominance. Pushed aside is the thirty-two-year-old presence of a formidable man, in his place is the lost, scared little boy, wrapped around me, his big gray eyes dropping tears that run onto my arm.
“How fucked up is that?”
Lifting our joined hands, he runs them along his socket, angrily removing his tears as he drags a rough breath in through his nose. The question is rhetorical. He’s not searching for reassurance. Not in this moment. It’s said as a statement, a cold, hard declaration of fact.
Falling into silence again, his eyes stay pinned to mine, content in seeing me cry, in letting me see him broken.
“Tell me yours.” His delivery is harsh, brusque and demanding, but I hear, I feel the desperation in the request.
I swallow down the sadness, the helplessness I feel. “My mom is a horrible human being. It’s like she was born without the ability to love. She’s a drunk. A mean one too. Honestly, I can’t recall the last time I saw her sober.”
I sigh in defeat as I talk about my mom, about the nastiness she showers upon everyone. How one single person can be so vile.
“She hates us all,” I continue, shifting closer, pushing our bodies more forcefully together, finding reassurance in his solid frame. “She makes certain we’re all aware of it. Especially Camryn. She treats her the worst. God, I don’t understand how a parent can treat their children so poorly, so hatefully.”
“She’s the stupidest fuckin’ bitch to ever exist. She doesn’t see you for the beauty your heart holds, she doesn’t cherish that, she doesn’t deserve the breath in her body.”
I laugh lightly on a soft sigh, bringing our hands up to kiss his knuckles. “I was always afraid that the evil that seemed so deeply rooted within her soul was hereditary. Was I destined to be so nasty, so empty, so unfeeling?”
“Not possible,” his jaw tightens, his expression hardening once again. “You’re so good inside, Baby. So good,” he repeats softly, lowering his gaze.
“My dad,” I start and any anger that had softened only moments ago, spikes, his hand, still wrapped around mine, clenching involuntarily, painfully. My brows pull together, uncertain at his unprovoked show of aggression. “My dad,” I repeat cautiously, my eyes narrowed on his reaction. He schools his expression, his face now uncomfortably blank. “He’s why I’m good. The hate in her doesn’t exist in him. He showed me love. He’s kind and generous. My dad has good in his heart. He gave that to me,” I declare vehemently, forcing him to believe my words.
But his blank stare continues, his entire face void of even a single emotion. His heart betrays him though, thudding wildly in his chest.
“Wh-”
“Lets fuck,” he cuts me off, the words laced with… rage?
“Parker,” I test, but he ignores me, his face burying into my neck, his teeth sinking heavily into my skin.
I gasp in surprise. Unprepared but completely turned on.
“I’d really like you to meet him,” I attempt to bring our conversation back, more than a little confused by his severe mood swing and wanting to decipher the intense change in him.
He laughs at my request, the sound sarcastic and hateful. “No.”
He moves quickly, flipping my body easily. My stomach to the mattress, he bites my shoulder. Hard. I cry out in pain as my body arches into his assault. Wanting more.
“No?” I question, letting his calloused hands drag roughly over my sensitive skin.
“No,” he cuts out, grabbing my hips and pulling them up toward his groin.
My hands move upward on their own accord, bringing me onto all fours, but he growls. “Tits on the bed, arms out, ass up.”
I gulp down a shaky breath, nodding.
He’s angry. Vibrating with his quiet fury. I’m so confused, but a lot turned on. His teeth sink into the cheek of my ass and I cry out.
In pleasure. In pain. In shock.
My neck tips back as his name hisses from my lips, his hand grabbing hold of my hair and yanking hard. His lips tickle my ear and I shudder.
“Stay the fuck down, Codi. Understand? Nod.”
I attempt to do as he says, to nod, but his hand is wrapped so tightly in my hair, he’s bruising my skull.
He laughs, his tongue dragging along my neck before using his grip to push my face down again.
“Fuck,” he spits. “You’re a fuckin’ wet dream, Sugar. You should see yourself; back swayed painfully, ass in the air,” he growls, dragging his palm down my spine. “I can see your ass, your pussy, displayed just for me,” he continues his rough spoken words, his fingers sliding through the seam of my ass, pausing over my tight entrance. I gasp, unsure of the feeling of him touching me there. His hand continues down, his fingers sliding against my wet heat and I whimper as he slides them into me.
“So wet.” The words are so rough, lost in a growl they’re almost inaudible. “Love when I play with your sweet little body, don’t you, sugar?”
He pumps his fingers in and out of me, once, twice before removing them. I whimper at the loss, wanting to scream out for him to keep going. I push back, chasing his what he just took from me and his dark chuckle echoes into the room.
He tsks me, sliding his dampened fingers up the line of my ass and massaging the tight pucker. I push forward, away from him in surprise, but immediately push back again, wanting to feel the foreign feeling once again.
“Like that, baby? Me playin’ with your untouched ass?”
I moan. Or beg. Whatever the sound is, it’s desperate, needy and ignites Parker’s fire further. My mouth opens on a silent gasp as the thickness of his thumbs slides into me.
“Fuck. Codi. God. Baby.”
His disjointed words tumble from his mouth, the finesse in his movements lost as he rushes to line the head of his cock at my entrance. He pushes forward the same time he thrusts his thumb inside me, filling me completely.
“God. I wanna fill you up.” His free hand grips my jaw, turning my face to slide his fingers past my lips and into my mouth.
“Suck,” he snarls.
He’s a blistering contradiction, a mess of conflicting emotion. His anger is palpable. I can taste it, dripped over my body in passion.
His pounding thrusts, the rough grasp of his hands, the savage sounds he makes. But caught up in his fury is a beautiful desperation to love me. Every brutal touch of his body against mine is severe in its caress, but bound in devotion.
In all the ways we’ve been intimate over the past months, I’ve never felt anything like this. He’s hijacked my entire body and I never want to take back control. Not when being owned feels so incredible.
I obey his thundering growl, my lips massaging his fingers as I suck, hard.
A thick roar rolls up his throat, releasing from his strained neck on a cracked moan.
His movements falter, the finesse I’m used to from his touch pushed aside by his spiralling need.
“Fuck. I wanna keep you forever. Like this.”
I want that too. I want to feel cherished in the same way I feel owned. I want him to claim me. Completely.
My heart.
My soul.
My body.
“Parker,” I whimper around his fingers and he drags them from my mouth, wet with my saliva, roughly down my jaw, down the underside of my body. He pinches a nipple and I cry out. He does it again and I buck against his violent thrusts, forcing his hand and cock deeper into my body.
Then I’m falling. I’ve lost all sense of reality. I no longer feel real. I’m floating. My entire body pulses with the most intense orgasm of my life.
I scream out his name. Loudly. My voice a level of desperate I should be embarrassed by, but I’m not. I beg him for more. For him to keep going. To go harder.
My knees buckle and he follows me down as I collapse onto my bed. I cry out at the loss of his thumb but his hand clamps onto my shoulder, his body slamming against mine just before he stills, my name roaring from his lips as he empties inside of me.
We lay like that, his sweat-slicked chest plastered against the dampness of my back. He’s heavy, my breathing laboured from not only exertion, but also the weight of his body. But I wouldn’t want it any other way. This closeness, almost feeling suffocated by him, I feel relaxed, at peace, complete.
Whether he vocalized the words or not, Parker Shay just declared his love for me. If he’d shouted it, it still wouldn’t have been as loud. He made certain I felt every tortured inch of it. In a way, this was better than three small words that could have been said without truth. Using his body to demonstrate, there’s no lie there. It’s not possible. I felt his truth, I felt it filter from his body into mine, the sincerity in the silent declaration, undeniable.
His lips meet the nape of my neck, a soft caress of his mouth against my skin.
Rolling off my back, he lands with his back against my mattress, his head turning to meet my eyes. The red-rimmed tell of his eyes, solidifies my thoughts. This was as emotional, as meaningful for Parker as it was for me.
“I hurt you?”
I shake my head softly, my cheek still plastered against the softness of my pillow. “No.”
“I... I was tryin’…”
My hand lifts to touch his cheek, resting there as my thumb drags along the socket of his eye. “I know, Parker. I felt everything you were telling me.”
His eyes close over in relief, a thick breath being pulled through his nose. He lies like that for long enough for me to think he’s fallen asleep. The heavy thud of his heart and the shallow intakes of air between us the only sound in the otherwise quiet room.
“I can’t meet your dad, Codi,” he speaks, startling me slightly as his eyes flicker open. A morose look of acceptance sits painfully in his eyes and I watch him silently trying in vain to read anything in the vagueness of his statement.
“Why?”
He shakes his head and copy the action on an irritated sigh.
“One day soon you’ll figure it out. I hate the fact that that day will ever come. But it will,” he blinks, his gray eyes opening again searching the depths of mine. “I hope the moment you figure it out you remember this,” he lifts his palm to my chest, resting it gently over my heat. “If you remember this, I hope you’ll find a little understanding as to why, maybe hate me a little less.”
My forehead lines in irritation. “Stop it. You’re always talking in these confusing riddles, alluding to the fact that our expiration date is coming closer and closer. I just told you I loved you, and whether you want to vocalize it or not, you told me it back.”
He swallows heavily, his lips turning down in the beginnings of a frown.
“If this is your way of trying to end whatever this is to you,” I gesture between us, “be upfront. I don’t understand your riddles and quite frankly, I don’t want to.”
He pulls me in closer, lining our bodies until they’re touching from the forceful thud in my chest to the tips of our toes. “Not what I was gettin’ at, Sugar. Trust me when I say the last thing I want in this world is for us to end.”
My body relaxes at his vehemence in his words. “Good,” I smile, leaning forward to touch my lips to his.
Maybe I should read into the haunted look in his eyes more, try to decipher why in the happiest moment of my life, he seems utterly broken. But if I’m honest with myself, I’m petrified at what seems to be plaguing him. For the first time in my life I’ve found something, someone, that I want to hold onto with everything pulsing through my body. Which also means that for the first time in my life I’ve opened myself up to real heartbreak. And that scares me. More than anything. Worse, I feel as though he’s teasing me with it. My heartbreak. He’s dangling it in front of me, seemingly ready to crush my heart but loving me as fiercely as he can before he does it. I just don’t know if I should be grateful or terrified.