Chapter 34
thirty-four
. . .
Slipping
Five years ago
desiree
twenty-five years old
My mom died on a beautiful day in March. She always loved flowers and gardening, so it seemed appropriate that she would die when the tulips were popping up from their time in hibernation, and the drowsy evergreens were reaching their next growth spurts. I had made sure all of her favorite flowers were at the funeral—lilies and dahlias, roses because they were classic. I arranged one special vase on my own (surely not as well as she could have), but it was my last little gift to her. For all the inner demons I know my mom secretly fought—demons I’d never know about, it seemed—memories of her arranging flowers beside the kitchen were when she seemed most at peace.
When my mom became sick again, I had reached out to Melissa. One final plea to her, because even though it had been several years since we talked, I needed my original best friend. I missed her mom’s cooking, the sancocho stew that was a weekly staple, the flurry of activity that was always in the Belle household.
It was one thing to no longer have Taven in my life. But entirely another to not have Melissa, because it was her family as a whole that I missed as well.
She came. When I reached out and shared the news, Melissa was on the next plane from New York, as if no time at all had passed within our friendship. Nervous as I was to make the plea, I somehow knew she’d be there.
She stayed as long as she could, helping with my mom’s wig selections and assortment of medications to be administered. She joked about the night my mom had to rescue her, me, and Taven from that party. When my mom was the one giving us pills, the foolish teens who couldn’t hold their alcohol.
Melissa would make my mom laugh with the wicked gossip of Broadway stars and behind-the-scenes affairs, acting out how so-and-so made moves on one another in dramatic declarations of love, only to then have a scorned wife wander onto set, throwing drinks in faces.
Whether or not these stories were real didn’t matter. Melissa was the entertainment we all needed during that time.
My father stood quietly by my mom’s side in those final days. I’d never before seen him crumble like that. His trembling shoulders and soft sobs, whispering to his wife of all the beautiful places they’d go together when he joined her in the afterlife, all of it squeezing at my heart. Thirty years of marriage together, how was he going to survive without his rock? he’d ask her. I’d gently close the door and let them be. Even through my parents’ ups and downs, the time they’d briefly separated only to find their way back to one another, I could tell how much they loved each other. As hard as it was to lose my mom, I remember thinking it must be even harder for my father to lose his life partner.
I thought about how wonderful it would be to have a love like that. I wondered if I’d ever get that one day.
Taven showed up at the funeral. I’m not sure how he knew about it, my guess is that Melissa reached out to him, but there he was. I hadn’t seen him in several years, since everything went down after his arrest.
I almost didn’t see him at first. He was tucked away in the back, hiding from my father, no doubt, but I caught a glimpse of him as I made my way down the long aisle of the church, behind my mother’s casket. I had always imagined running into him again, dreamed of seeing him at the grocery store or in town somewhere, knowing he was back in Ohio. I was active on Facebook and Instagram at the time, and would peruse his social media accounts. I would go down a rabbit hole of stalking the girl I noticed consistently commenting on the occasional posts that he made. I ached with questions on who the petite brunette was with him in the beachside photo, that kind of thing. Eventually, I stopped looking altogether. It was too hard.
So when I saw him there in that pew, head down and trying not to be noticed but staring straight at me, I gave him a small wave. And when he texted me later that evening, asking if he could see me, I said okay.
I was dating someone by that point. A nice guy from a pleasant family that I met at the hospital, Parker was his name. I brought Parker along with me to the bar where Taven requested we meet. I admit, I had hoped to make Taven jealous.
Parker was a handsome surgeon, and when he asked me out initially, I thought I’d faint that everyone’s favorite hot doctor had taken a liking to me.
I couldn’t resist his smile, his persistence when I initially declined, unsure of how to turn on the charm with him and certain he was just making his way through all the fresh faces in my class. I learned he was divorced, and not known to be a player, so eventually I said yes. He later admitted he hadn’t been looking for anything serious initially, but my rejection had him desperate for more. Little did he know I had just been shy.
I thought we made quite the pair. He treated me well, never made me question whether or not I was on his mind. He consistently texted me “Good morning” every day, knew my favorite snacks and always had them in stock at his house. Even Melissa liked him once they finally met, and she wasn’t one to readily let just anyone in.
When Parker and I met up with Taven, the bar was painfully quiet, just the usual bar flies perched in their seats and watching some game on the screens surrounding the place. Parker and I made our way in, and I spotted Taven, sitting by himself in a booth in the corner.
As soon as Parker and I slid in to join—Parker shaking Taven’s hand and playing along nicely with this man from my past—I could see that Taven was drunk. He was wearing a black hoodie sweatshirt and kept fidgeting around with its strings that were dangling on his chest, lifting one and jabbing the air with it every time he had some great point he was trying to emphasize. “That’s right!” he’d say, darting the thing at us. “It was, it was,” dart, dart, “that spot on third street!”
He was cracking every inside joke he possibly could with me, asking if I still wear heart-shaped sunglasses, or if Bingo was still my favorite game. He mentioned the new tattoo he wanted to get, and did I remember that guy—that hilarious guy—at the studio when I went with him to get his first one?
“I remember,” I said, working carefully to not down my wine entirely too fast despite my desire to want to take the edge off.
“What was the tattoo?” Parker asked, ever the polite one as he sipped his beer. I think he was amused at seeing this ex of mine make a fool of himself, clearly putting on a show. I felt embarrassed for Taven, yet also longing with a desire to make Parker see the wonderful person that Taven truly was behind the drunken facade.
I glanced over at Taven, a smile escaping me. He held my gaze and smiled too, his first genuine one of the night, and a little flicker of the old connection we had erupted.
“Well, Dazzle?” he said. “Are you going to tell Parker what my first tattoo was?”
I looked at him for another beat, then grinned and turned to face my boyfriend. “Taven and I used to have this tradition of making Bingo cards at every New Year. We’d fill them in for each other for goals or things we had to do throughout the year.”
“Except with these ones,” Taven cut in, “they were really more like dares.”
Parker pointed between us. “But you would come up with Desiree’s and she’d come up with yours?”
“Exactly,” I said. “And one year, we were nineteen, I think?”
Taven nodded once. “Yup,” he said, with a poke in the air of his hoodie string.
“I filled in a square to have Taven get a tattoo, and let me pick it out.”
Parker stretched his arm out around my shoulders. “This should be good, what did you pick?”
I looked at Taven and noticed when his eyes dropped down to Parker’s hand, fingers slowly rubbing the skin on my chest, slipping in between the neckline of my shirt and grazing just above my breast. He looked back up at me and I saw it, the flare of something. Anger. Jealousy.
I tried to ignore the flip in my belly at that look and carried on. “I had him get a heart tattoo that had ‘mom’ written in it.”
Taven kept his eyes on me, poker-faced as he said, “And I did it.”
I couldn’t look away from him. A million thoughts were passing between us, memories of that day, visions of Bingo cards, every single one of mine that I’ve kept since I was thirteen years old. I wondered if he still had his. I had a feeling he did. His eyes held mine, and I could see the thoughts behind them. I see you, Desiree , he was saying. And this guy right here will never know you or love you like I do. It will always be us .
Parker broke our spell. “What did your mom think of the tattoo? Was she flattered?”
Taven downed the rest of his drink and slammed the glass on the table. He leaned back and said, “She told me it was trashy, and I should get it removed.”
That was the last memory we shared that evening.
The next couple of weeks were a slow slip back into the cycle of my perpetual crush on Taven Carlisle. We met as a group one more time after that first meeting with Parker. Melissa was in town and came with us that night, along with a couple of Taven’s old friends from high school. Tensions were high, testosterone was clearly in the driver’s seat, and the little jabs being thrown between Taven and Parker were getting worse as the evening carried on.
First it was Parker ordering my food for me.
Taven scoffed. “What, man, can’t let the lady order for herself?” he probed.
Parker was smooth with his response. “She can order for herself, just thought I’d be a gentleman and order for her since she’s clearly mid-conversation with her friend at the moment.”
Melissa and I exchanged a look. Then she stretched her arm over to Parker and patted his hand. “And you know us girls hate to be interrupted.”
Then it was asking what kind of car Parker drove. A Ford F-350. “You work in construction? Haul a lot of shit?” Taven asked with a grin, knowing full well Parker did not.
At one point Taven was making fun of Parker’s specialty—surgery, saying the doctors that felt the need to be fancy were the ones that went for surgery. Parker pointed out that it was still a pathway I was considering, and Taven looked at me, saying, “Dazzle’s always been fancy all on her own. ”
At the end of the night, Taven was helping me slip my arms through my coat. Parker rushed to my side. “I got that, man.”
I glared at Parker. A warning for him to step back. Drinks had been flowing and no one needed to poke any bears. “It’s just a coat, babe,” I said.
“Yeah,” Taven chuckled. “Just a coat, babe .”
Parker was not one to be goaded. He was the rockstar of medicine, destined to make chief or director one day, with the kind of cutthroat ambition that didn’t take kindly to anyone he felt might stand in his way, professionally or personally.
Including jealous exes. “Watch your tone, Carlisle,” he said.
Taven laughed. “You’re pretty serious about Dazzle’s coat, aren’t you?”
Melissa cut in then, shoving Taven in the chest. He stumbled backwards, knocking over a barstool. “Let’s get you home, shall we?” she sang out.
The car ride home with Parker was tense. A lot of it was him telling me he didn’t like Taven, that he was clearly still in love with me, and that I needed to stop talking to him. I played the “my mom just died” card, explaining that in my time of mourning, having old friends around that knew her in her prime was comforting to me. We got into a huge fight, one that left me in tears, so when I decided to go to Taven’s apartment at two o’clock in the morning, I think we both knew nothing good was going to come of it.
I didn’t know where he lived, so I texted him to ask for his address. He wrote me back immediately, still awake, and by the time I knocked on his door, my heart was pounding, and I was wondering if I was about to make a huge mistake. Yet there was nothing that I wanted more than Taven’s reassuring arms around me.
When he opened the door, his apartment dark and his silhouette framed by the low light of the small entryway, I knew I was doing this. His hair was disheveled and hanging over his forehead, he looked almost vulnerable to me. The look on his face was one that told me he could hardly believe I was here.
We stood like that for a moment. Unmoving, lips parting, wondering what to do or say next. He was wearing sweatpants, no t-shirt—as if I needed a reminder of what all that skin and muscle looked like. I was done for.
I stepped through the doorway, and next thing I know he was pulling me against him, his face pressed into my neck and he breathed in, whispering, “Dazzle. God, I’ve missed you so much.” I was gliding my hands around his torso, up around his back, relishing in the feel of his smooth skin. He smelled so good, felt so warm. He inched his way to my face, my mouth, kissing me with a passion that had been building up in the few short weeks since seeing him again.
He closed the door, mouth still locked to mine, then pushed me back against it with rushed enthusiasm like I might disappear if he waited too long.
He pulled off my jacket. Ripped open my blouse, then stood back to look at my body, eyes animalistic as he scanned my chest, my stomach. He said nothing, he didn’t need to. The hunger in his eyes told me he needed this as much as I did. I reached up and slipped my fingers through his hair, feeling the same softness it’s always had. I pulled him back to me while his mouth dotted kisses up and down my chest, my stomach, a bite on my hip as he shoved down my jeans.
I stood there with my blouse hanging on my shoulders, my bra and panties still on. “Taven,” I cried out when he pressed his mouth between my legs, the heat of his breath through my underwear lighting me up. He inhaled the scent of me with a growl that left me so utterly desired, I thought I might come right then and there. He pressed his nose up and down, taking me in.
“I’ve wanted this right here for so long, Dazzle.”
I whimpered as he continued worshiping me at a maddeningly slow pace. “Yes,” I breathed out. “Please.” I stood there weak and ravenous for him. He slid a finger up and down over my panties, planting kisses along my belly, reverent with his touch.
“Mine,” he said. “All mine, baby.”
“Yes,” I panted, clawing my nails into his scalp. He glided his hand down my thigh, then lifted my leg over his shoulder.
He planted a kiss between my legs. “I want to taste you. Here.”
A warmth flushed through me at the thought of his mouth on me. “Please,” I whispered. He pushed aside my panties, amping up the feel of the heat of his breath on me. I was flushed and impatient, wanting his mouth on me but loving the torture of his painfully thorough exploration. I begged him to take me, to taste me or fuck me or something, until he finally gave in.
There it was. The delicious feel of Taven’s tongue on me. Pressing all around, teasing me but not hitting that spot I was craving. It didn’t matter. He would get there, and I would enjoy this torture for all I could.
When he fully covered me with his mouth, I gasped and squeezed my eyes shut, taking in the only sensation that mattered.
He guided my hand to my breast, looked up at me and said, “Touch yourself, Desiree.”
I did as I was told, pushing the cup of my bra down and releasing my breast. He watched me as I circled my nipple, then his head was back between my legs, and the two sensations combined were so intense, I was panting and dizzy.
He was relentless with his work, quickening his movements as I continued touching myself, massaging my breast with one hand, holding on to his hair with the other. I could feel every move of him stroking up and down, sucking and invading and I started trembling, barely able to stand.
It was too much, yet everything I needed, and I could feel myself blooming beneath him, getting close. I kept hold of his hair, crying his name out over and over again with his tongue working in torturous circles, squeezing my nipple and pulsing my hips into him .
He stopped. Released me and pulled back, and I begged him, “Please don’t stop, I’m so close.” I looked down to see him grinning up at me.
“But I’m about to make you collapse, Dazzle.” He placed a soft kiss on my thigh.
“I want to collapse,” I breathed out. “I’m fine. I’m steady, I promise. Please.”
“Please what?” he said, gently biting me.
“Please put your mouth back on me.” I was on fire at that point, aching with painful need.
“Are you sure?” he teased.
“I’m sure. Fuck, I need you. I need more. Please,” I whined.
He gave me one light flick of his tongue and I jolted with the feel of it, everything lit up and felt exquisitely sensitive. Then another, then another and I squeezed his hair and bucked my hips closer, grinding into his face and begging for more.
When he slowed down once again, I thought I might scream with frustration.
I looked down at him. He softened his smile, slowly running two fingers up the skin of my inner thigh, a chill sweeping over me. He stopped just before pushing into me.
“Is this okay?” he asked, and I nearly wept with the sweetness of what he was asking. Knowing what had been done to me before, wanting to make sure I was okay with it now. I nodded. “It’s okay,” I said and then I closed my eyes in sweet relief when his mouth was on me again, fingers inside me and working their magic until I truly did need to steady myself. I released my breast and reached my palm to the wall beside me, screaming out in wave after wave of ecstasy, coming right there in the entry hall of Taven Carlisle’s apartment. I was screaming out his name, my mouth pressed down into my shoulder to attempt to muffle my cries as my pleasure ripped through me.
My legs were weak, and when I was finally able to catch my breath, blinking away the stars behind my eyes, he rose up before me. Cradled my face and kissed me .
“You taste like a goddamn piece of heaven,” he said, “just like I knew you would.” Then he lifted me up and carried me to his bedroom. I lay limp in his arms, still spinning with how incredible he just made me feel. How hard he just made me come.
We stepped in his room, and I lazily scanned my eyes around the space where Taven Carlisle slept. The room was simple, though nicer than his college apartment. A dark bedspread, the color of which I couldn’t quite make out in the dimness of the lights. Navy or charcoal, maybe. Two nightstands, a candle on one, and I tried not to think about why he had a candle in there. Who else he had seduced into his bedroom with the scent of teak or maybe sea salt and soft glows of a flickering flame. I decided none of it mattered.
He laid me down gently and I watched as he held my gaze while he pushed down his sweats, his cock springing free and taunting me. I had a moment of a belly flip of nerves, remembering his size and the feeling of him inside me years before. I felt the anticipation mixed with the slightest apprehension.
I wanted to taste him like he had tasted me. I leaned forward and crawled my way over to him, his mattress creaking quietly beneath me. I paused in front of him to admire this bit of Taven Carlisle that I’d missed more than I ever dared to admit. I took him in, slowly, and loved the taste and feel of him filling my mouth so perfectly.
“So beautiful,” I could hear him whisper above me. I looked up to see him watching me as I moved up and down and took in all I could. I slipped my fingers through the patch of hair surrounding him, inquisitive in the chance to get to study him up close, and he groaned above me as I stroked my tongue up the length of his shaft. I was high off the feeling of him growing even harder in my mouth with each pull. I felt powerful in his growls of pleasure and appreciation, all because of me.
He stopped me before he could finish. Instead, he pushed my shoulders back and shoved off my blouse, then my bra. He slid my panties down my legs, dropping them and saying, “You’re perfect, Desiree.” I felt no self-consciousness, no embarrassment as I watched him admiring my naked body beneath him.
He stepped forward and pushed me back on the bed. I propped myself onto my elbows and watched his naked form as he walked over to the nightstand, pulled out a condom, and unrolled it over himself. My belly fluttered in anticipation of what was about to happen. I needed him inside me so badly, I shivered with the thought of it, feeling my nipples tighten and my skin tingle.
His eyes held mine. “We’re going to do this nice and slowly,” he said. He pointed to the mirror beside the bed. “You’re going to watch me make love to you, you understand?” I nodded. “And you’re going to watch yourself as I make you come so fucking hard with me inside you.”
I looked over to the mirror, took in our naked bodies, mine laying before him like a sacrifice about to be made. I said okay. He could do this, I knew he could. I had yet to have an orgasm in that way, just never something I was able to do, but I somehow knew tonight I would.
True to his word, Taven started slowly. I stared at him in the mirror in fascination as he positioned himself between my legs, kneeling and starting his mission, pulling my legs close to him, then pressing himself against my entrance. I felt him there, but kept my gaze on the mirror, and he was looking down at me, one hand stroking my leg. “You like watching yourself, don’t you?”
“I like watching you,” I said.
“Good.”
And then he leaned forward and gently pushed himself into me, all the way in and I closed my eyes, holding onto his shoulders, allowing myself to take in every inch of Taven I could. “You okay?” he asked.
I breathed in deeply, the sandalwood scent of his cologne calming as he stretched me in a way I hadn’t been since that one and only time with him. “I’m okay,” I assured him. It was Taven inside of me. This was okay. This was right .
He cradled my neck with his hand and turned my face back toward the mirror. “Open your eyes, Dazzle.” I did as instructed. “Do you see yourself? Do you see how beautiful you are?”
I loved everything I saw. Our intertwining bodies, the way my breasts gently rolled, the flex of sculpted muscle as he began to move on top of me. Worked himself into me. I loved the trust I felt with his hand on my throat, locked in and holding me steady and making me watch us.
We rocked slowly together like that for a while. It was tender kisses and soft moans, and I thought, this is perfect. This is everything I will ever need. I never wanted to stop doing this exact thing right here.
It was so much. So incredible, and I whispered, “I love you,” emotion in my voice as I watched the two of us moving together. “I never stopped loving you.”
He kissed the tears escaping my eyes, whispering, “I’ve only loved you, Dazzle. It’s only been you,” and I looked up at him and wrapped my arms around his neck, kissing him as deeply as I possibly could, still only wanting more.
At some point he paused. Slipped an arm beneath my hips and lifted my lower half up, holding me tight against him, completely filling me to the hilt.
“Move, Desiree,” he said. He hovered over me, still holding me firmly in his grasp as he whispered in my ear, “I want you to move those beautiful hips and fuck me, riding me like this, you understand?”
I nodded, pressing my heels into him and moving as instructed, riding him from beneath while he held me in the tight lock of our embrace. I turned my head and watched myself in the mirror, taking him like this, my movements greedy, aching with the relentless pressure of him inside me.
With each rock I could feel myself climbing higher, feel every inch of him sliding in and out of me over and over again. I could feel it, I was actually going to come like this .
“Holy shit. Taven,” I cried out. “It’s so good.” I closed my eyes and focused on the mounting pleasure I felt with each move.
He kissed my temple, and I felt him tugging my hair, the tightness on my scalp aiding in the sensations I was feeling. “That’s right, Dazzle. Just like that, baby.”
I moved again, loving the slow and steady climb I was making with each gentle push of my hips on him until I was right at the edge, crying out, “Taven, fuck me, please!” I needed him to pound into me with a desperation I’d never known I could feel. “More.”
He released me and slammed into me again and again, bringing me to my release and I breathed out, begging for more, riding the wave of an exploding orgasm as he twisted my hair in his grasp, yanking my head back. It was the best fucking feeling I’d ever experienced, and I screamed out that I’m coming, don’t ever stop, that I’m coming. He drove into me, and I thought this wave would never end. That this feeling knew no limits and I was blind with my orgasm. It was the best kind of high, and then he was shuddering on top of me, swearing and saying my name with his own release. I was stunned with the feeling of it all.
When it was over, he stayed inside me like that for a while, kissing me and telling me he was never letting me go. That I was the only thing in the world that mattered. I told him I wasn’t going anywhere.
I didn’t know at the time that I was lying, because in that moment, there wasn’t a single thing in the world that I could think of that would make me walk away from him.
It was my Taven, in my world again. Making love to me. He’d given me the most intense orgasm I’d ever had, the best sex of my life. No gadgets, no frills, just beautiful sex in its purest and simplest form.
Ecstasy was followed quickly by the firestorm of a new hell when I realized that I had thrown away my relationship with Parker for the love of my life—a closet alcoholic.