Tameless (10 page)

Chapter Eighteen – Wes

I texted Dawn a few times as the night wore on. I could have driven to her house but considering that her parents were there, that would have made things infinitely worse. She finally responded a couple hours later—“I’m fine, just need some time, sorry”—and I decided to respect her wish for time. But only for so long.

I used to keep a journal, but it had been years since I’d written anything personal. I’d always enjoyed it, and it was also therapeutic. I wrote when I was doing drugs, I wrote when I was in therapy. It cleared my head somehow. So, in an attempt to seek comfort and feel like I was doing something rather than sitting around fretting over it, I opened my laptop and started to type.

It was a stream-of-consciousness type of writing, starting with what happened earlier with Meghan and Dawn, the train of thought winding its way to memories of my days in rehab. It was a scattered mess, but at least I was transferring that mess from my head to the screen.

After wrapping up an hour-long writing session, I decided to go back and look at some of my old photos, some of which were published in a local indie newspaper here in LA. Some were of local surf spots, others were taken at various hot spots where local bands performed. I became sort of well-known at the magazine for being the young kid with a flair for getting the right shot, even without any formal training.

There was no way I could do anything else with my life except be a photographer or videographer of some kind. I’d always known it, even if it hadn’t been at the forefront of my mind for a while now. But sitting there looked at all my old work, I knew I needed to get back into it. I needed to rediscover all the things I’d loved, the things that made me happy.

So I woke up early the next morning, long before I had to be at work, and I went down to the beach. It was the first time I’d gone since moving back to the area.

I took my camera with me and as I walked along the beach as sunlight slowly brightened the sand and waves, I took hundreds of shots, just firing them off one after another. All I could think was how much I wished I’d had a surfboard right then. I didn’t care that the waves weren’t very big. Didn’t care that it had been several years since I’d stood on a board and might wipe out in a spectacular way. I just wanted it again. I wanted that feeling, that excitement.

I wanted that part of my old life back.

I wanted the photography back, too.

And I wanted Dawn.

She’d asked for time and I’d promised that to her, if not in so many words, at least in my actions. I wasn’t sure I could wait much longer. I’d give it another day or two, but there was no way I was going to let this linger.

I watched the ocean for a little while longer, the memories of the feeling of a board beneath my feet coming back to me. The rush of catching the right wave. The tense split-second changes in the water that forced a new position, new direction. The way it felt to wipe out early and get caught in a breaking wave. The sense of conquering the Pacific when I made it all the way to shallow water without losing the battle.

Before I’d been an actual junkie—a slave to substances—I’d been an adrenaline junkie. Why that hadn’t been enough at the time, I’ll never know. I was sure it would remain a mystery forever, but now that I’d come back from the edge of self-destruction, I knew I had another chance. Probably only one chance to make the most of my life.

Nothing was going to stop me from going after what I wanted.

Chapter Nineteen – Dawn

Two days after Wes left the voicemails, I started to feel guilty about not seeing him. Part of me wished that he had come to me in some dramatic way and not let me have my space, but in the end, I was glad he did.

I drove to his apartment after work one day, just before 6 p.m. I didn’t see his car, but knocked on his door anyway. No answer. As I was walking away, the guy who lived in the apartment across from Wes was coming outside.

“Oh, I heard the knock across the way,” he said. “Thought it was my pizza. They went to that door by mistake last week.”

The guy looked to be in his late forties. He had long hair, a deep leathery tan, and he wore board shorts and a t-shirt that looked like it had gone through the wash a few thousand times. If they ever did a sequel to show us what happened to everyone from
Fast Times at Ridgemont High
, this is what Jeff Spicoli would look like.

“Sorry to bother you,” I said.

“No bother. If you’re looking for that guy—I haven’t met him yet, don’t know what his name is—I saw him leave about a half hour ago. Left with a board.”

Wes was surfing again.

“Do you know where he might have gone?”

The guy shrugged. “Maybe the pier.”

“Thanks. I’ll check there.”

I hurried down to my car, got in, and pulled out of the parking space. Leaving the complex, I saw the old surfer dude’s pizza delivery guy pulling in.

The Santa Monica Pier was only a few blocks away. I could have walked, but I hadn’t been thinking straight. My mind was singularly focused on getting to the beach as fast as I could so I could see Wes surfing again.

And that’s what I did, for fifteen minutes after parking. I immediately spotted him. That physique was unmistakable, and there weren’t many people on the beach. I stayed in my car and watched as Wes stood where the waves washed ashore, board propped up and held at his side, as he looked out at the Pacific.

The sight was sad and exciting and worrisome and thrilling all at the same time. I could only imagine what was going through his mind—the days when he was young and carefree, happy and adventurous, all good traits until those very things led him to cross a line he couldn’t uncross.

Finally, he lifted the board, put it under his arm, and started to walk out into the breaking waves. I sat up in my seat a little higher so I could have a better view, but then realized it wasn’t good enough. I got out of the car and sat on the hood.

Wes put his board down and lay on it on his stomach, paddling out into the rolling swells.

I remembered all the times I had watched in awe as he went through this process. Paddling, turning, waiting for the right wave. I’d never been into surfing, but I had always watched Wes whenever I got the chance. It had been so long, and now I felt a surge of nostalgia for days long gone as I watched him.

He picked his wave. One quick motion and he was standing on the board, arms extended out for balance. He bent his knees as he pushed down on the board, making him go faster as the board took him almost parallel to the beach, until he turned directly toward it and rode until the wave broke and he was once again standing in ankle-deep water.

This was a wide beach, a long way from the water to where I’d parked, but he still noticed me. Wes didn’t hesitate, didn’t seem to take any time to decide whether he was going to come to me or go back out for another wave.

He picked up his board and trudged across the sand.

This was the old Wes I knew—walking across the beach, shirtless, wearing board shorts, usually carrying a surfboard.

I guess I could have blamed the brisk ocean breeze for getting sand in my eyes, causing them to tear up, but I didn’t have to make an excuse. When Wes walked up to me, he put his board down and stood close, between my legs as I sat on the hood of the car.

“Don’t cry, Dusk.”

That’s all it took for the floodgates to open. He pulled me close to him, his strong arms wrapped around me, enveloping me, and everything felt right again.

He kissed the top of my head. “Let me explain something about Meghan.”

I raised my head. His eyelashes were still wet, beads of seawater clinging to them, one dripping down to his cheek. “No, you don’t have to.”

“I want to.”

I shook my head, reaching up and putting my hands on his shoulders. “It’s my fault. You told me about her. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have freaked out like I did and left.”

He smiled, relief flooding his face. “No one owes anyone an apology. Let’s just forget it happened.”

I couldn’t speak. My throat was getting that tight feeling it always got when I cried. I just nodded.

“I promise, Dawn, it’s not an issue. That’s all I’m going to say, okay?”

I pulled him closer to me. He was soaking wet and my clothes were absorbing the water, but I didn’t care. I just needed to feel him as close to me as possible.

“Let’s go back to my place,” he whispered. “I’ll change and we can go get something to eat.”

When we got to his apartment, I followed him all the way to the bathroom where he started the shower. “Just need to rinse off.”

“Oh, okay,” I said, and started to turn to leave the room but I felt his hand on my shoulder, turning me back toward him.

He lifted my shirt. “You’re not going anywhere.” A surge of excitement ran through my body as he unzipped my slacks and lowered them, along with my panties, to the floor. I stepped out of my shoes and kicked my pants off my ankles as Wes unhooked my bra. He held my breasts and grazed his thumbs across my nipples as I touched his abs and unbuttoned his shorts. They fell off his hips with ease and his cock jutted out, touching my stomach.

Steam filled the room as Wes took my hand and guided me into the shower. He stood behind me. The warm spray hit my head, beads of water running down my face. Wes reached for a bottle of men’s body wash. I heard the snap of the bottle top, he put it back on the shelf, and then his hands went to work: shoulders, back, arms, then reaching around to my front and cupping my breasts in the warm slipperiness of his strong hands.

However this ended, I was going to have the cleanest boobs in all of California, because Wes wouldn’t let them go.

I felt his cock growing harder and longer, pressing against my lower back. When he finally managed to let one hand free, I felt his fingers on my wrist. He moved my hand behind me, urging me without words to touch him. I wrapped my fingers around his iron-hard length, feeling all of it, unable to see it but exploring it with my hand.

“I used to think about this.” His voice was low, breathy. “I’d hear the shower going and I’d want to sneak in there with you.”

Just the thought of that—Wes, all those years ago, fantasizing about being in the shower with me while my parents were down the hall—the thought made me wish he had done it, even though I don’t know how I would have reacted at that age.

None of that mattered at the moment, though. Here we were, adults now, free to do whatever we wanted.

He slipped a hand slowly across my hip, reaching to my front. I felt his fingertips on my inner thighs, looked down and watched his hand. Wes had to lower himself to reach me there, and as he did, his cock slipped from my grip and rested in the cleft of my ass.

I felt a chill even under the hot water. My skin prickled into little bumps. Every nerve in my body was ablaze with excitement.

“I want it,” I said, not even planning it, just some kind of primal call.

I felt his teeth on my neck, lightly at first, then harder as his lips closed and he sucked on my skin for a few seconds, letting go to say, “I’ve never wanted to fuck you more than I do right now.”

But he didn’t.

Instead, he reached for the showers nozzle and rinsed us both clean of the soapy suds.

He stepped out of the shower. I followed, and stood in the middle of the bathroom while he dried me with a towel, then dried himself and said, “Shower sex sucks. I want you on my bed.”

He took a step forward, making me take a step back, and we walked like that out of the bathroom and to his bed. His eyes never left mine. Not as we walked, not as the backs of my legs touched his mattress. Not as his hand went to the small of my back to lay me down on his bed.

“It’s not just about this, Dawn. It’s so much more.” The look on his face proved he meant it.

“I know.”

We looked into each other’s eyes, until he lowered his head and sealed his lips around mine. His mouth parted my lips and his kissing became intense and unrestrained as our tongues tangled.

I put my hand on his chest and felt his skin, taut over his broad chest, with muscles that twitched as I touched him.

My hands explored more of his chest, lowering to his abs, my fingers finally finding his cock, hard and heavy against my thigh.

We rolled together, Wes pulling me on top, then flipping me over onto my side. His body was hot, tight, strong. Our skin was warm and smooth from the shower, making it feel like we were gliding over each other, the sensation making me throb inside with pure lust.

Once on my back again, Wes slipped a finger inside me.

“You’re so fucking tight and wet for me.”

God, I loved how he added “for me.” It was true and would go without saying, but the fact that he said it was like he was claiming me, claiming my body, claiming credit for making me feel this ecstatic.

I moaned into his mouth as he kissed me deeply.

I could have spent all day lying there with him, doing only that, until neither of us could go any longer, but neither of us could have waited much longer.

Wes knelt between my legs, reaching down where our bodies met. He gripped his cock as he looked down and watched himself rubbing the head across my flesh, parting me with it, rubbing my clit with it.

I had never come like that, and was sure he could make me do it, but suddenly he reached to the bedside table, flung the drawer open, and got a condom.

“Wait,” I said. “I want to feel it first. I mean, without that.”

Wes’s stare turned into a grin. “That’s risky, Dusk.”

I nodded. “I know, but…I’ve never done it without one and I want to with you.”

The pause made me briefly wonder if I’d said too much. If maybe I had let my raging lust get the best of me and Wes wouldn’t want to take the chance.

He put the condom down. “I haven’t, either.”

I didn’t question the truth of that statement. I might have if this was all happening years ago when we were much younger, but this was the older, more mature Wes.

Wes cupped me under my thigh, lifting my leg, spreading me. I grabbed his wrist, holding on.

My back arched and my head involuntarily threw itself back as he pushed inside of me. I gasped, taking in a huge breath and almost immediately losing it one fierce exhale.

It was amazing to feel him like this. Skin on skin. Nothing separating us as he penetrated me in one long, slow thrust. Slow and deep, his cock filled me.

My legs were around his waist tightly, my ankles locked, as Wes got into a slow rhythm. My body tensed and relaxed, coiled and uncoiled. The pleasure was like nothing I’d ever felt before. Much of it was physical, but so much more was psychological—the thought of us connected like this, him inside me, nothing between our flesh.

I finally looked at his face and saw the tension in his jaw, the determined, almost animalistic look in his eyes, the way he was focused on my face.

He was watching what he was doing to me. Observing and enjoying every bit of pleasure he was giving me.

And I was watching all of that on his face, knowing he was feeling like I was—like we were making a connection neither of us had ever made with anyone else before.

He lowered his face to mine, kissed me, his tongue sweeping through my mouth as if he wanted to devour me entirely. He raised his head again. He propped himself up, both hands flat on the bed on either side of me. I watched as his chest rippled as he tensed up. I reached up and put my hands on his upper arms, taut and solid as iron.

I knew he was about to come, especially since he let one hand slide under my ass. He lifted and pulled me toward him, tighter, fucking me harder.

He lowered his head to my chest and licked one nipple, then went to the other and sucked it fully into mouth. I reached up and put my hand on the back of his head. I didn’t want him to stop. Wes sucked harder, pulling, then I felt it—he was pinching my nipple between his tongue and his upper teeth.

That’s what sent me over the edge and I felt my body twitching, tightening, winding up for a release. As much as I didn’t want this to end, holding out any longer was hopeless. So I let it go. The tension in my nerves and muscles turned to a warm flush as I clenched around him.

He released my nipple and lifted his head. I felt his cock swell and pulsate. It was a fullness that I’d never felt before.

Wes groaned and clenched his teeth as he came.

I know I didn’t pass out, but there were a few seconds there that don’t register. The passion of the moment had turned purely physical, as if my brain was unable to record what was happening in real-time. Just a few seconds of something I had no idea existed—my body taken over by a force I would find myself completely addicted to.