She barely nods her head within the confines of my hands as fresh tears spill down her cheeks.
“Where’d she go?” Her broken sobs give me my answer, as much as I hoped it wasn’t so.
Mandy Bennick struggled with depression since before Taya was born and never bounced back from postpartum psychosis unless aided by drugs that left her comatose or manically happy. Either way, she checked out of her life long before Taya was old enough to know any different. Her dad, Rusty, pulled out all the stops to keep her happy or at least able to portray happiness to the town he unofficially ran. Today, her mix of pills and cocktails turned fatal. And while Taya always proclaimed she liked the freedom of a checked-out mom, I know she wished their relationship were different. We shared that sentiment.
Taya rises up onto her knees and scoots onto my lap, straddling me.
I drop my hands from her face, resting my soft fists on the hay floor.
She grips the sides of my neck and jaw, curling her long fingers into my hair, and pulls my face to hers. She kisses me frantically, and I let her for a moment.
I rub my hands up her body, neck, stopping when I get to her cheeks. I softly pull away from her lips, locking gazes with her.
Eyes glazed, she leans in, trying to resume her kisses.
“Tay.” I try to reach through the haze of her grief.
“Stop, Jay. I don’t want to talk. Just kiss me.”
I hold her face in my hands and stare into her liquid green eyes. What I see there tells me I won’t penetrate her pain with words. I sigh and pull her lips to mine. I deepen the kiss, mimicking her urgency—an urgency I don’t feel but sense she needs.
She peels my shirt up over my torso, and I lift my arms, letting her drive the fabric over my head. I reach behind my neck and yank it up and off. She crosses her arms over her stomach and yanks the hem of her Guns N’ Roses T-shirt over her head in one motion. Then she’s kissing me again, skin to skin except for the thin fabric of her bra.
Within minutes I’m not thinking about talking or stopping. I don’t care that the hay pricks my skin when I pick her up and lay her back, covering her body with mine. It’s soft enough, and the sweet smell reminds me of her. Her scent always smells faintly of horses and hay and green grass. Underneath, her shampoo or soap or maybe lotion teases a hint of coconut but never overpowers the essence of the outdoors.
She’s pulling at my hips now. Pressing hers up into mine. We’ve made out before. Lots of times. But we always stop before we go too far. Before clothes come off. This time is different. She won’t stop.
Somewhere inside my brain, a faint voice tells me I should stop. But she’s kissing my neck. Her warm breath and soft raspy voice fill my ear, raising the hair on my arms and neck. Goosebumps follow.
“I want you, Jay. Please, just make me forget.” The reminder of her mom brings me back to earth.
“We shouldn’t. Not now. Not like this.”
She braces her hands on my shoulders and shoves with everything she’s got.
I roll off her onto my side as she sits up, resting her forearms on her raised knees.
She lifts her hands and drags them through her hair at her temples. Without looking at me, she says, “Go away.”
“C’mon, Taya, don’t be like that.”
“Don’t fucking tell me how to be. She’s dead, Jay. She’s not in the other room ignoring me like usual. She’s fucking gone forever. Okay? I just wanted to numb the pain. Even if it was just for a little while. You don’t wanna help me do that, then leave.”
I stare at her profile, racking my brain for the right words. A tear slides down her cheek, and I reach for her. I rest my fingers lightly on her shoulder and place a soft kiss there. She turns her face until her cheek rests on the back of my hand. Looking into the broken green pools, I know I won’t deny her anything. “Okay, Taya, it’s okay. I’m right here. I got you.”
She throws herself into my arms, the force knocking me back onto our haybed.Straddling my thighs, she begins unfastening my jeans. I watch through hooded lids as she slides them down my hips, lifting to give her access. She stands quickly, pulling her sports bra over her head as I push my jeans off each calf with my feet. She shimmies out of her jeans, kicks them to the side, then repositions herself on my thighs. I reach up to timidly hide her breasts, covering them in each palm, but my touch has her arching into my grasp, her nipples hardening at the contact. My hands squeeze instinctually. Her body rubs against me, and moisture glazes the growing stiffness between my legs. My hips rise to meet the pressure of hers. The friction isn’t new, but our complete nakedness makes the sensations new, more intense, and somehow more real. We’re floundering in our inexperience but eager and urgent.
My hands clamp hard onto her hips and drive the grinding motion, causing our breaths to hitch and our hearts to hammer. I slide them up her torso, circle her nipples and pinch them between my thumband finger, hard. I sit up, take one in my mouth and suck. My pulse throbs in my crotch.
She’s moving her hips back and forth along my length, and it gets more slippery with each thrust. With my free hand I reach down to touch the wetness of her center. When my thumb finds the bundle of nerves, she throws her head back in a deep moan. I’m mesmerized by her long blonde hair falling over us, her soft tan skin against mine, moving and responding on pure instinct.
On my own instinct, I dip my finger into her heat. She rocks into the invasion in a clear invitation of more, and I oblige by adding another. Her rocking turns to grinding as I plunge in and out, but I can tell what I’m doing isn’t enough. I slide my fingers out of her, clasp her hips and lift her. I turn and lay her beneath me, kissing her softly.
She doesn’t want to be soft. She sucks my bottom lip into her mouth and nips it almost painfully.
Before I kiss her, I pull back and look down into her eyes, dark emerald now. “Are you sure, Taya?”
“I want you, Jay. Now. More than I’ve ever wanted anything. Please.”
