I was venturing cautiously. Things were weird and wild and confusing and happening too fast and they needed to be sorted out.
Tack was definitely not venturing cautiously. Tack was being Tack, laying it out and being honest about it, brutally honest.
But he’d never been intentionally brutal to the point of being mean.
And no woman needed mean no matter if it came with honest.
Therefore, I whispered, “I want you to get off me, Tack.”
“I’m not gettin’ off you, Tyra. I’m pissed and you’re… whatever the f**k you are and we’re talkin’ this shit out. You’re not gonna hide away, lick your wounds and think up more shit, that, mind, is pure shit, to hold me back.”
“I’m not sure you get this but I’m not certain I want to hold onto your strings either,” I said quietly.
“Right, that you just came twice?”
“Pardon?”
“Babe, I asked, you didn’t hesitate to spread wide for me. I told you that mornin’ you started workin’ for me, I touched you, you’d spread wide and you did. You give attitude, darlin’, I enjoy it. It works. You got a way of dishin’ it out that makes me go hard and part ‘a the reason I go hard is I know, I get in there, it’s gonna be worth puttin’ up with your mouth but what I do not enjoy is this cat and mouse bullshit you got goin’ on.”
“Cat and mouse bullshit?”
“Hot for me one second, cold the next. Sweet then tart. You need more?”
“Has it occurred to you that this whole thing is a bit confusing for me?” I enquired.
“No shit?” he fired back. “Has it occurred to you I get that and that’s why I’m always explainin’ shit to you? Which, while we’re talkin’, I’m just sayin’, is gettin’ tired.”
Another verbal blow, direct hit, and the hurt spread.
I stared at him through the dark. Then I turned my head away and closed my eyes tight.
“Look at me, Red,” he demanded.
“Get off me, Tack,” I replied quietly.
“I said, look at me.”
I looked at him and felt his eyes on me. Then his hand curled around my jaw and his tone gentled when he spoke again.
“Baby –”
It was me who cut Tack off this time and I did it by whispering, “No,” then I turned my face away again.
His fingers brought me right back and when he had my eyes, he whispered, “Darlin’ –”
“I want to go home.”
“You’re not goin’ home.”
“Please take me home.”
“Baby, it’s after three in the morning. I’m not takin’ you home.”
“Then I’ll get a taxi.”
“Tyra –”
I lifted a hand, wrapped my fingers around his wrist tight and whispered, “I want to go home.”