Tears of Tess (2 page)

“Tess,
what the hell? That’s the third time you’ve quipped about bondage.”

Rejection
crushed, and I dropped my gaze. The tingles between my legs popped like dirty
bubbles, and I let Brax shove me back into the box where I belonged. The box
labelled: perfect, innocent girlfriend who’d do anything for him, as long as it
was in the dark and on my back.

I
wanted a new label. One that said: girlfriend who will do anything to be tied,
spanked, and fucked all over rather than adored.

Brax
looked so disappointed and I hated myself.
I need to stop this
.

I
reminded myself for the three-hundredth time, that the sweet, wonderful
relationship I had with this man was far more important than a bit of sexy play
in the bedroom.

I
mumbled, “It’s been too long. Almost a month and a half.” I remembered the
exact date when the lacklustre sex, in good ole missionary, took place. Brax worked
overtime, my uni course demanded a lot of brainpower, and somehow life became
more important than a roll beneath the sheets.

He
froze, looking around us at the hordes of people. “Great time to bring that up.”
He guided me to the side, glaring at a couple that came too close. “Can we talk
about this later?” He ducked his head and kissed my cheek. “I love you, hun. Once
we aren’t so busy,
then
we can have more alone time.”

“And
this holiday? Will you take me like the girlfriend you adore?”

Brax
beamed, enveloping me in a hug. “Every night. You wait.”

I
smiled, letting anticipation and happiness dispel my angst. Brax and I wanted
different things in the bedroom department, and I hoped, prayed, got on my
knees and begged, that I didn’t ruin what we had because of it. 

My
blood simmered for things entirely
not
sweet. Things I didn’t have the
courage to say. Downright sinful things that amped my blood to lava and made me
wet—it wasn’t chaste kisses.

And
standing in his arms, in a public place, with that sexy smirk on his mouth, and
hands on my waist, I trembled with a cocktail of need. This trip would be
exactly what we needed.

He
brushed his lips against mine, no tongue, and I had to squeeze my legs together
to stop the vibrations threatening to overtake me.
Is there something wrong
with me?
Surely, I shouldn’t be this way. Maybe there was a cure—something
to take the edge off my desires.

Brax
pulled back, smiling. “You’re gorgeous.”

My
eyes dropped to his shapely mouth, breathing faster. What would Brax do if I
pushed him up against the wall and groped him in public? My mind turned the
fantasy into
him
pushing
me
hard against the wall, his thigh
going between my legs, hands pawing, bruising me because he couldn’t get close
enough.

I
swallowed, battling those far too tempting thoughts. “You’re not so bad
yourself,” I joked, plucking his baby-blue t-shirt that matched his eyes so
well.

I
loved this man, but missed him at the same time. How was that possible?

Life
wedged between us: the university course stole five days a week, not to mention
homework, and Brax’s boss landed a new building contract in the heart of the
city.

Each
month trickled into the next, and lovemaking became second fiddle to
Call of
Duty
on PlayStation, and architectural sketching for the extra credit I’d
signed up for.

But
all of that would change. Our life together would improve, because I was going
to seduce my man. I’d packed a few naughty surprises to show Brax what turned
me on. I needed to do this. To save my sanity. To save my relationship.

Brax’s
fingers squeezed my waist and he stepped away, ducking down to grab the
suitcases again.

If
I wanted to seduce him, wasn’t it best just to go for it? Planning and dreaming
seemed wrong when he stood right in front of me.

I
dropped my shoulder bag and grabbed the lapels of his beige canvas jacket,
yanking him into me. “Let’s join the mile-high club,” I whispered, before
crushing his mouth with mine. His eyes flashed as I leaned forward, pressing my
entire body against his.
Feel me. Need me.

He
tasted of orange juice and his lips were warm, so warm. My tongue tried to gain
welcome, but Brax’s hands landed on my shoulders, holding me at bay.

Someone
clapped, saying, “You attack him, girl!”

Brax
stepped back, looking over my shoulder at the bystander. He dropped his eyes to
mine, temper flashing. “Nice spectacle, Tess. Are we done? Can we go check in?”

Disappointment
sat like a heavy boulder in my belly. He sensed my mood—like he always did—and
gathered me into a hug again. “I’m sorry. You know how much I hate PDA’s. Get
me behind closed doors, and I’m all yours.” He smiled, and I nodded.

“You’re
right. Sorry. I’m just so excited to go on holiday with you.” I dropped my
eyes, letting wild, blonde curls curtain my face.
Please, don’t let him see
the rejection in my eyes.
Brax used to say my eyes reminded him of dove’s
feathers as the white bird flew across the sky. He could be very poetic, my
Brax. But I didn’t want poetry anymore. I wanted… I didn’t know what I wanted.

He
chuckled. “You’re right about being excited.” He waggled his eyebrow, and
together we headed to check-in. The girl who’d told me to attack him winked and
gave me a thumbs up.

I
smiled, hiding the residual pain that my attack didn’t inspire the same
reaction.

We
joined the queue, and I glanced around. People milled like fish in a pond,
darting and weaving around groups of waiting passengers. The vibe of an airport
never failed to excite me. Not that I travelled a lot. Before the university
course, I travelled to Sydney to study the architecture there, and sketch. I
loved to sketch buildings.  At ten-years of age, my parents took my brother and
me to Bali for a week. Not that it was fun going on holiday with a thirty-year
old brother, and parents who despised me.

Old
hurt surfaced, thinking of them. When I moved in with Brax eighteen months ago,
I drifted apart from my parents. After all, they were almost seventy-years old,
and focused on other ‘important things’, rather than a daughter who’d come twenty
years too late. A dreadful mistake, as they loved to remind me. 

They’d
been so horrified at the pregnancy, they promptly sued the doctor for botching
my father’s vasectomy.

An
old enemy: rejection, ruled my life. I supposed the desperation to connect with
Brax was a way of confirming that
someone
wanted me. I didn’t just want
intimacy, I
needed
it. I needed to feel his hands on me, his body in
mine. It was a craving that never left me in peace.

I
blinked, putting the impossible together. I needed Brax to be rough because I
needed to be
claimed
.

Oh,
my God, am I that screwed up?

I
followed Brax, in a daze, to the counter and let him put the suitcase on the
scales.

“Morning.
Tickets and passports, please,” the girl in her smart uniform said.

Fumbling
with luggage tags, Brax asked, “Honey, can you give her our tickets? They’re in
my back pocket.”

I
reached around and pulled out a travel wallet from his baggy jeans pocket.
Although twenty-three years old, Brax still dressed like a grungy teenager. I
squeezed his butt.

His
eyes flashed to mine, frowning.

I
forced a bright smile, handing our documentation to the clerk. I didn’t even
check where we were headed, too focused on ignoring the twinges of sadness at
not being allowed to grope my boyfriend.
Maybe I’m too sexual?
My fears
were right. I was hardwired all wrong.

“Thank
you.” The girl’s eyes dropped, showing heavily shadowed lids. Her brown hair,
scraped back into a tight bun, looked plastic with so much hair spray. She bit
her lip and pulled out a ream of tickets before checking our passports. “Do you
want your bags checked all the way through to Cancun?”

Cancun?
My heart soared. Wow. Brax outdid himself. I never would’ve thought he’d travel
so far from home. I turned and kissed his cheek. “Thank you so much, Brax.”

His
face softened as he captured my hand. “You’re welcome. There’s no better way to
celebrate our future, than going to a country that values friendship and
family.” He leaned closer. “I read that on Sundays, the streets come alive with
strangers dancing. Everyone becomes connected by music.”

I
couldn’t tear myself from his crisp blue eyes. That was why I loved him,
despite not being completely satisfied. Brax suffered the same insecurities. He
didn’t have anyone but me. His parents died in a car accident when he turned
seventeen; he was an only child.

Brax
owned the apartment we lived in, thanks to the life insurance pay out, and his
dad’s husky, Blizzard, came with the bargain.

Blizzard
and I didn’t see eye to eye, but Brax loved the dog like a tatty teddy-bear. I
tolerated the beast, and kept my handbags far from chewing height.

“You’re
the best.” I captured his chin, planting a kiss, not caring he was
uncomfortable. Hell, the couple beside us were practically dry humping; a peck
on the mouth was PG stuff.

The
girl sighed across the counter. “Is this your honeymoon? Cancun is amazing. My
boyfriend and I went there a few years ago. So hot and fun. And the music is so
sexy, we couldn’t keep our hands off each other.”

Images
filled my mind of twirling around Brax in a new sexy bikini. Maybe a change of
scenery would amplify our lust.

I
said, “No, not our honeymoon. Just a celebration.”

Brax
grinned, his eyes sparkling.

An
idea ran wild.
Was
this trip special? Was Brax going to propose? I waited
for the heart-flipping joy at becoming Mrs. Cliffingstone, but a swell of
comfort filled me instead. I would say yes. 

Brax
wanted me. Brax was safe. I loved him in my own way—the way that mattered, the
long-lasting kind.

Silence
descended while the girl tap-tapped her keyboard and printed off our boarding
passes. After tagging our bags, she handed everything back. “Your bags are checked
all the way to Mexico, but you’ll have a stop in Los Angeles for four hours.”
She circled the gate number and time. “Please make your way through immigration,
and proceed to the departure lounge. You board at eleven-thirty.”

Brax
took the documentation and shouldered his laptop bag. Linking hands with me, he
said, “Thank you.”

We
headed toward the Passengers Only lounge. We had little over an hour before
boarding. I could think of a lot of things we could do in an hour, but I
doubted Brax would be into them.

But
we were on our way to Mexico. A different country and a different bed awaited
us. I could be patient.

I
made up my mind, as Brax browsed the tax-free PlayStation games, that tonight
would mark a new beginning for us. Goodbye contentment, hello lust. 

Our
relationship was going to rip and roar with love and flame. I would make sure
of it.

Yes,
tonight things would be different.

I
needed different.

*Blue
Jay*

S
omewhere,
hundreds of kilometres above earth, I woke to dry, recirculated air, and the
sickening smell of over nuked dinners.

Brax
brushed his lips on my forehead. “Dinner is being served, honey.”

I
scooted upright in the prison of a chair, wincing at my flat butt. Holy hell,
it took a long time to travel across the world.

An
air-hostess wheeled a trolley slowly down the aisle, smiling fakely and handing
out tinfoil wrapped trays.

“What
do you want?” Brax asked, slapping a hand over his wide yawn.

I
knew how he felt. All I wanted was a hot shower, a soft bed, and Brax to spoon
me.

I
shrugged. “I dunno. What were the options again?”