Page 54 of Tainted Love

I run my hand up and down my cock as she watches hungrily. “You want me, baby?” I ask.

“I do,” she breathes desperately.

I fumble in the nightstand next to the bed and find a condom, biting it open with my teeth. She watches with rapt attention as I roll it down my length. “Are you sure, baby?” I ask. “Because once I start, I’m going to fuck you until you beg me to stop.”

“I need every inch,” she says.

I settle myself between her legs and line up with her wet center. My lips meet hers as I push in just slightly. “Fuck, Sash, you feel amazing.” My tongue probes her mouth deeper as I push in and pull out faster until she’s taken all of me inside her.

With my forehead resting on hers, I ask, “Are you alright?”

She responds by bucking against me and replying, “I’ll be better when you make me come again.”

Challenge accepted.

My control snaps. I start to move faster as she spreads her legs more so I can get as deep as possible. We’re both covered in sweat as I fuck her so hard my balls slap against her ass in a fast rhythm. I can tell the moment I hit the spot that drives her wild as her hips work to meet mine and create friction on her clit.

“I’m going to come. Taz,” she whimpers.

“So, fucking come, baby. Milk my cock.” My words are her undoing as her body explodes around mine.

Her undoing is my undoing as my balls tighten, and I can feel the orgasm building from my calves up. Soon, I’m spilling into the condom with her name on my lips, and then those lips crush hers in a bruising kiss.

“Thank you, Sascha,” I say breathlessly against her lips.

“Are you thanking me for sex?” she giggles.

“No. I’m thanking you for being you. I’m thanking you for letting me be me. I’m thanking you for being my home these past few months.”

She kisses me sweetly and then pulls my head down onto her chest, where I listen to her heartbeat gradually slow down as she runs her fingers through my hair until we fall asleep.

Chapter 23

“Space Age Love Song”

Sascha - Age 18, 1988

My body is exhausted, and my muscles ache, but it’s a satisfying soreness. Memories of nights spent tangled up with Taz fill my mind, and the physical reminder of our intense connection lingers between my legs. We’ve been like this every night for a week now, sometimes multiple times in one night. It must be his endurance as a hockey player, or perhaps all eighteen-year-old men have an insatiable drive. I don’t have much experience to compare it to.

Luckily, my parents’ hearing isn’t what it used to be. But despite the risks, the sex is beyond incredible. And when we’re not lost in each other’s bodies, we spend our late nights indulging in snacks and laughing until our stomachs ache.

But when morning comes, and we have to face the real world, I instinctively pull away from Taz. He hasn’t said anything yet, but I see the curious look in his eyes when I step away from him too quickly.

I find myself acting aloof in public, unsure of the reasons why. Perhaps it’s because I relish our secluded world, a bubble where we can release all inhibitions and be our true weird selves without judgment from others.

But deep down, I know it’s also because I’m afraid of getting hurt. Keeping him at a physical distance is my way of keeping him at an emotional distance, which is safer. Graduation is approaching, prom is next week—reminders that everything has an ending date, and soon. It’s easier this way, with no unrealistic expectations that could lead to heartache.

As always, Taz takes on the role of chef for Sunday brunch with my parents. He insists it’s his way of repaying them for their kindness. Although they never expect it, they always enjoy these small gatherings over delicious food.

Taz isn’t working at the hotel anymore, having given it up to focus on his grades and hockey. He said hockey was a faster way to get the money back that was taken from him. I can’t even think about it, or I get so angry that I want to hit his brother with my flute.

My stomach full and content from a delicious Belgian waffle topped with plump blueberries and clouds of whipped cream. I join him at the sink to wash dishes. Our hips brush against each other as we stand side by side, both focused on the task at hand. “Hey, are you coming with me to visit Gram today?” he asks, breaking the comfortable silence between us.

“Of course I am!” I reply eagerly. “If we ever stop being friends, I get custody of Ida in the divorce.”

He laughs and playfully sprays me with water from the sink. “I can’t say I blame you,” he says with a mischievous grin.

We balance our plates of pastries, along with some old romance novels my mom wanted to give to Gram. Taz wasn’t thrilled about it, but I’ve been teasing him about not forgetting that she’s still a woman with desires and needs.