Black (12 page)

“You can’t cook me sausage and bread,” she whines behind me.

“Can too. You wanted to eat here, you get what you’re given.” She pops out her bottom lip, making it impossible for me to disagree with her. “Pizza?” I ask, throwing the sausages back in the freezer. She laughs and picks up my phone. I don’t know why she didn’t grab hers, but she sits there quiet for a few seconds. I stand there and watch for a while, then ask, “Finished snooping?” She doesn’t look up from the phone straight away. She reads whatever has her interest, then places it on the counter.

“Is this your work phone?” she asks, not sounding as confident as she did before. I nod my head and she leans forward over the counter. “What is it that you do, Liam?”

“Black,” I correct her.

“Ha?”

“It’s Black, Rose. That’s my name. Use it.” She looks taken aback. I guess since I let the last one slip she thought she could use it. She can’t.

“Are you avoiding the question,
Black?
” she spits my name back at me.

“I’m a contractor.”

“And?” she prompts.

“And nothing. Now are we ordering or you going home?”

“Ordering.” She slides my phone across the counter to me and I pick it up and call. I grab the keys to my car and walk out with her following behind.

“Where are you going?”

“To get the pizza, Rose. This isn’t a city. There’s no delivery here, you pick that shit up yourself.”

“Figures.” She shrugs, following me down the stairs, barely looking at the room I held her in.

She waits in the car while I collect the pizza. She watches my every move. It’s not flattering, it’s quite the opposite. Actually, it’s frustrating. No one has watched me as hard as what she does. Not even the police. And believe me, they have tried.

I hear the loud noises of motorbikes. One by one I hear them stop in front of the small pizza place. I hear Jake first, loud as always, calling out to me. I watch as Rose sits in the car, her ice blue eyes wide in horror. Her eyes flicking back to me, then back to the men.

I walk past them. There’s five in total, including the Pres. Jake’s at Rose’s door. She isn’t opening the door for him. Actually, I think she has it locked. I walk to my side, open it, and place the pizza in through the door. Her terrified eyes are watching on.

“You need to go?” I ask her, and she nods her head anxiously.

“Black, my boy,” Pres calls out, slowly making his way to me. He spots Rose in the car, though I don’t think he would recognize her from when she was a druggie at his parties.

“One second, okay?” I ask, nodding my head as I close the door behind me.

“You got a chick?” he asks, nodding his head toward the car. He looks then back to me. “Where she from?”

“Around! What you need, Gray?” I ask, changing the subject.

“One’s gone missing, will need another. Hook me up with your contact.” I shake my head and walk away.

“I’ll see what I can do,” I yell over my shoulder, opening the door and quickly driving away. I will
not
be getting him any more of what he needs. The last one didn’t turn out so good for me.

“I know them,” she says after silence for most of the drive back to my house.

“I know.”

“No, you don’t. The things… the things I did with them, for them…” her body shivers in what I’m guessing is disgust, “…I don’t remember it all, but I remember some.”

“Why do you need money, Rose?”

“Huh?”

“You said you needed money earlier. Why do you need it?”

“I don’t want to say. It’s just… it’s not what you think it is. Okay?”

“I can give you the money.” She looks at me with squinted eyes and her mouth wide. I turn the car off and climb out grabbing the pizza.

It doesn’t take her long to catch up. “I couldn’t, and it’s not a little amount. I need a lot… Black.”

“I know. I can give you as much as you need. Just tell me how and when.”

“I couldn’t take money from you.” Her head shakes as I reach the door. She follows me to the living room and sits close to me.
Too damn close.

“It’s there, Rose, no strings attached.” I look at her and her eyes reach mine. They shine. She’s appreciative, I can see it.

“I kind of want you to kiss me now,” she whispers, so close, too close.

“I don’t think that’s smart.”

“Why not?” she fires back, not moving from where she is.

“It’s not smart, it’s not how we should go… where we’re meant to go. You’re not destined to be with someone like me.” She pulls back and closes her eyes, not saying anything, and when she opens them I see determination—it’s intimidating.

“You don’t know where I should go. Whose lips should touch mine. Who’s body should posses me. You don’t know because I know…”

“Are you finished?”

“No, just getting started.”

“You should eat,” I tell her, opening the pizza box. She doesn’t look and remains staring at me.

“I am going to kiss you now,” she says, inching closer, her hand landing on the side of my face, her fingers brushing my beard. Her mouth is slightly parted. I want those plump pink lips on me. I do. I just know where this will go, and it will not be in her favor. I can see it clear as day, except there’s a part of me that wants to throw those reasons to the wind just for a taste. A taste of what pure bliss would be like, because that’s what she is—pure and utter bliss.

How do I put into words what this man makes me feel? Alive, beautiful, protected, extraordinary. All the things no one has ever made me feel. He pulled me into him all those years ago, like an invisible line was somehow tugging us together, to be with each other at that moment in my life when I needed him most. Then ten years later, exactly the same when I needed him most, to pull me from the black hole I was so badly stuck in.

His beard is long, his hair longer then finger length, his mouth is a tight line in fear but also passion. His beautiful green eyes that pull me in shine so bright yet so dark. Like I could possibly read all his hidden secrets and demons behind them if I just get close enough.

His eyes close as both my hands are on his face, soft skin under my fingers, beard under my palm. I want to pull it, to bring him to me. Maybe I will get that chance in the future, just not now. He’s too fragile, no matter how much he denies he isn’t. It’s written all over his handsome face. The one most people choose to look the other way when he faces them, the tough exterior that he puts on for everyone.

I inch closer, knowing if I wanted to make a move on this man I’d be the one he would let in. He believes what he says. We aren’t meant to be. How can that be, though? Everything he is calms me, brings me peace, and makes me feel alive. Makes me want him so badly it only gets harder each time I see him.

My lips soft, his lips rough from his beard. I hear an intake of breath, his lips on my lips. He doesn't move, my hands remain on his beard. He’s breathing heavy with excitement… or nerves? I'm not sure which. So I kiss him softly, and he starts to move his lips—there’s no time for soft sweet kisses. My body presses closer to his, his hands remain on his side. I move my hands away from his beard and down to his shoulders, He only allows me lips on lips. Body pressed to body. His eyes are squeezed tightly shut. I feel his body tense beneath me. He doesn't kiss back, but he doesn't pull away either.

My hands start to slide down the front of his chest, and he flies backward to the end of the couch, away from me. My eyes reopen, his taste lingers on my lips. His dark green eyes are focused strongly on me.

“You shouldn't have done that.” His green eyes are darker now, fiercer.

“Why not?” I antagonize him.

He stands abruptly from the couch, taking two steps to be in front of me. He looks down at me and swings my legs around off the couch directly in front of his legs. He leans down, picks up my hands, joining them together, pinning them with one of his hands and pushes me back on the couch. He leans down, now his face inches from mine, his lips inches from my lips.

His lips descend on mine. They’re rough but soft, just like him. Rough on the outside, soft on the inside. My lips part and he gives me more than what he gave me mere seconds ago. His tongue enters me, and he kisses back with the same passion I’m giving him. My back arches, my body wanting to be closer to his. His hand slides down—making my stomach break out in butterflies—in between my breast, but it stops there and then there’s pressure. He pushes me down away from him. I want to protest, but I know if I do it will come to an end.

His hand stays in between my breasts—his mouth, his lips, assaulting me. It's fierce, so much passion. It feels like ten years’ worth of kisses.

As our tongues dance together with a wild passion I taste coconut.

He breaks for air, his forehead rests against mine, my hands still pinned above my head. Both of our breaths are heavy, our eyes connect and he goes to speak, but pulls away abruptly.

My hands drop falling to my side. I desperately want words to leave my mouth, but nothing seems to fall from my lips when I move to speak. His eyes do a slow burn, he looks unsure. He hasn't moved far.

“You need to leave,” his voice sounds gruff.

“That was…” I pause staring him, “…ten years’ worth of kisses.”

His head shakes, not disagreeing nor agreeing.

“That shouldn't have happened. We can't happen!”

“We can, and it would be explosive.”

His eyes leer at me while he bites his bottom lip. I sit up straight, closer to him, two steps away. I stand and take a step closer, his eyes tracking my movements. Another step closer, our bodies now touching slightly.

“Kiss me again?” My voice is tight, nerves taking hold. Unsure of what he’ll do or say.

It takes a while and I don't move, and neither does he. His hand snatches out and brings my body to his. I slam into the front of him and my hands come up, circling around his neck so fast there’s not enough time for him to pull away. His lips descend on mine. This kiss is softer with not so much aggression. I could kiss him forever.

My body grinds on him. I want to explore. His body pushes back into mine, the need, the want is there. I don't move my hands, afraid of what he will do. He doesn't like intimacy—not the sexual kind, just the love kind. His hands explore me. I let him. They're rough and unsure of what they’re meant to be doing. He isn't sure how to be normal. I don't want him normal, I want him just the way he is—fucked up and all.

“Touch me,” my voice is husky, turned on.

His hands slide up the back of my shirt and they unclasp my bra. They feather back down, and his hands come in between us. He pulls my hands away and they drop to my side, he grabs the bottom of my shirt, and in one swift movement tears my shirt apart. He slides it off my shoulders, then my bra. I’m now exposed in front of him, the top half of me completely naked. His eyes travel downward, stopping on my breasts. Roger used to make me feel insecure about my breasts. He’d tell me I had the chest of a boy. He never made me feel beautiful or desired. But the way Liam is looking at me it makes me feel all those things and more.

I go to reach for his shirt, but his hands stop me. He reaches out again, undoing my pants, and I kick my shoes off. He pulls my pants down, taking my underwear with them. I’m now completely naked and he’s completely dressed in his black trousers and white shirt. His hand reaches up and he undoes his first button, I see hair, it's not much, just a patch. The rest is next the shirt gets removed, his nipples are pierced with a barbell through each. No tattoos, just the piercings.

His eyes stay on mine, he kicks his shoes off then comes his pants. I'm afraid to look down. He isn't, his eyes don't stop traveling my body. My eyes stay glued to his face. He looks at me challenging, challenging me to look down. He smirks, and it's the sexiest thing I’ve seen. I remove my eyes from his face and trail them down from his chest to his stomach, which has a beautifully sculptured six-pack. I let my eyes travel further, where they stop at this cock. I gasp loudly. He has an apadravya, and the metal shines brightly at the end of his cock. He's manicured, clean, and very tall. My eyes shoot back up to him. His smirk is still in place. I've never been with someone who had a cock piercing. It should be interesting.