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Authors: C. M. Stunich

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Tasting Never

BOOK: Tasting Never
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Ty
looks me right in the face with those dark eyes, smirks at me with
those sexy lips, and runs his tongue across them as if he knows how
to push every button on my body with a simple look. He unbuttons his
pants and puts a hand under my ass. With considerable strength, Ty
lifts me up and thrusts into me at the same time.

There's
this vicious blending of bodies and strong wills and stubborn
characters and for a split second, there's no you and no me, just us.
It fades away as quickly as it came and soon we're back to just
being human; two grunting, sweating, moaning souls grinding together
for whatever reason is important today, filling whatever need has to
be filled now. I don't think for awhile, and if Ty tells you that he
does, he's lying. He keeps his hand on my wrists, keeps me pinned
there while he slides into me with long, hard strokes, tries to bury
whatever problems he has in me while I let him fill the empty hole
inside of myself.

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Table of Contents

 

C.M.
Stunich

Sarian
Royal

Tasting Never

Copyright
© C.M. Stunich

All
rights reserved. Formatted in the United States of America. No part
of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever
without written permission except in the case of brief quotations
embodied in critical articles or reviews.

For
information address Sarian Royal Indie Publishing, 1863 Pioneer Pkwy.
E Ste. 203, Springfield, OR 97477-3907.

www.sarianroyal.com

ISBN-10:
1938623436(eBook)

ISBN-13:
978-1-938623-43-1(eBook)

Cover
art and design © Amanda Carroll and Sarian Royal

Optimus
Princeps font © Manfred Klein

Conrad
Veidt ©
Bumbayo
Font Fabrik

The
characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any
similarity to real persons, living or dead, businesses, or locales is
coincidental and is not intended by the author.

 

 

 

 

to the tortured souls whose blood is the heartbeat of the earth.

may you find your happily Never after.

 

1

Rick
is a perfectly nice guy.

But
not for me.

Rick
is the kind of guy you can take home to your family, show off, and
know that at the end of the day, he'll be there for you. I'm not
into guys like Rick. I should be, but I'm not. I think there's
something wrong with me. I need a guy like Rick to put me on the
straight and narrow, to help me stop doing the things I shouldn't be
doing and start doing the things I should.

Right
now, my back is to a wall and I'm kissing the neck of a guy I don't
know. My therapist says it's because I have 'daddy' issues. Like
that's supposed to mean something to me. How can I have daddy issues
when I barely knew the prick? He didn't walk out on me and mom like
my therapist thinks. She thinks that because I've never told her the
truth. My dad died right in front of my eyes, called out my name
seconds before the light went out of his face and left him cold.
That's all I remember about him. Other than that, my mind is a
blank, a series of shadowy pictures without words. They don't make
any fucking sense.

The
guy I'm kissing unbuttons his pants. I think about telling him to
use a condom, but I just don't feel like it. I'm on the pill anyway.
He thrusts into me while I'm watching Rick through a crack in the
door. He's drinking punch, not alcohol, and smiling with big, wide
teeth in a face that's handsome, but not too handsome. Rick's the
kind of guy that your friends compliment you on, tell you he's
gorgeous, but they never try to sleep with him. The ones they really
want, the dangerous ones, the ones with pasts that burn like fire and
melt everything around them … Those are the guys that I
always seem to fall for. The one I'm having sex with right now is
one of those. I don't even know his name.


I
love you,” the guy says over and over, and I roll my eyes.
I've heard it before, a hundred times, and I just don't want to hear
it anymore. I pretend to have an orgasm, moaning and groaning and
scratching his back, and all the while, I'm watching Rick. We have a
date tomorrow night that I think I'm going to cancel. I thought
maybe I'd take Rick out, see how chivalrous he really was, but
tonight, he's wearing khaki pants and a red sweater. I don't date
guys like Rick.

The
guy I'm fucking finishes and tells me how great I am. Then he
disappears and I don't see him again, not that night or any other. I
light a cigarette and leave the room before any of the drunken idiots
at the party stumble in and find me there with my panties around my
ankles. I step out of them and stuff them in my pocket, aware that
my skirt is too short and that my ass is hanging out. I just can't
seem to find it in myself to care.


Hey,”
Rick says, intercepting me before I can reach the front door. “We
still on for tomorrow night?” He looks me up and down, and I
can see that he's curious about my disheveled appearance, my mussy
hair and my swollen lips, but he doesn't ask about it. I don't think
he even gives it a second thought. Rick doesn't know that girls like
me exist. He's heard about them on TV, maybe even masturbates to
them, but he doesn't really believe that they exist in this world or
any other. I really should keep my date with Rick, go out with him,
and grow up.


I
can't,” I say, biting my lip seductively and touching his
cashmere sweater with a shaking hand. I don't know why it's shaking,
but I don't like it, so I pull it back and let it fall to my side. I
blow cigarette smoke in Rick's face which is rude, but that I do
anyway. There's a monster inside of me, eating little bits of me
everyday, and I can't seem to stop it. It makes me do things I don't
want to do, say things I don't want to say. It makes me tell Rick
that I've got to study for a test that he really believes I have.

I
kiss him on the lips and leave an orange-red stain before I walk out
the door and down the front steps. People wave at me as I go by and
say they'll see me around, but I don't really know who any of them
are, so I avoid their stares and their friendly smiles. It's all
fake, just a big load of shit that I can't buy into or I'll die. If
I ever believe in something again, and it turns out to be false, then
not only will my body crumble beneath me, but so will my soul. I'll
disintegrate, disappear into the wind and blow away. I'll be
nothing. I'll blank out and the energy of who I was will just go
away, melt into the ground and come back as something unimportant,
like a dandelion or a caterpillar. I can't find it in my heart to
care.

I
walk back to the dorms because I don't have a car. My roommate isn't
home which doesn't surprise me. She's in love with another girl, one
that's straight as an arrow. They have sleepovers in her dorm room
and 'practice' kissing one another like they're in high school or
something. That's fine with me because it means I have the room all
to myself, gives me a chance to be alone. I feel most comfortable
that way. When you're alone, there's nobody there to hurt you or let
you down. It feels too good to have that guarantee of solitude.

I
fall on my back on the bed and try to breathe through the tears that
come to me unbidden. I don't want them, never asked for them. I
couldn't even tell you what I was crying over or why. I just do.
Every night, I lay here and I try to find something in myself to live
for. Every night, I fail and wonder if I need a guy like Rick to
show me the way. But then, I'm a big girl, and a feminist, too, so
why do I think a guy could save my soul?

I
never thought to wonder if I was looking at it the wrong way, if
maybe it wasn't a guy that I was looking for, just a person. And
maybe I didn't need them to save my soul, just to give me the other
half of it. Maybe that was it?

2

The
next morning I wake up and have to force myself out of bed. It's a
weekend which makes things so much worse. On days when I have class,
I have a purpose, an obligation that I have to fulfill. On weekends,
I just wait around for something to happen. Today, my roommate comes
home early looking happier than usual. I wonder if she scored with
the other chick, but I hope not. If so, then she's setting herself
up for failure because that girl, whose name I don't know, is the
type that grows up and looks for a guy like Rick. They get married
and have babies and think they're happy because that's what people
like Rick and this other girl do. They think they're happy because
they don't know any better. I do. Not because I know what it's like
to be happy, but because I know what it's like to be miserable. If
you live your whole life in the darkness, then you don't have any
trouble recognizing the light.


There's
a party at one of the frat houses tonight, do you want to go?”

BOOK: Tasting Never
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ads

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