Page 44 of The Sound Of Us

He looks past me and then back at me.

I help him decide. I step aside, turn and walk back into the living room to give Pepper another bone. That way, she’ll stay for another hour at least.

A few seconds later, Axel is standing in my living room. He looks good here, like he belongs in this house. With me. Not with his asshole of a husband.

His curls. That’s what’s missing. His locks usually peek out from under his hat. I walk over to him and, with a dangerous amount of what feels like ownership, I slip the hat off his head.

He’s nearly bald.

“My husband doesn—”

He’s mumbling with his head bowed. I can’t read him. His husband, what? I capture his chin between my thumb and index finger. He jumps back, like I’ve burned him. Maybe I have. I’m burning too.

He seems to realize the reason for my touch; his face flushes with embarrassment. Maybe he laughed. But it’s not a good smile or laugh. Tension radiates from his body, rolling off him in waves.

“My husband doesn’t like my long hair,” he says clearly.

What a fucking shame. Because if Axel was my husband, I’d have used that hair as leverage while I fucked him from behind. I’d press his face into the bed or the floor or the kitchen fucking table and yank all those curls back while I drilled his ass.

I’d have sunk my fingers into those curls and held them back while I watched my cock fuck his beautiful mouth. And then, after I’d fucked him into a limbless, post-orgasmic mess, I’d play with his curls and tell him how beautiful they are. How sweet his face looks, surrounded by those pretty fucking curls and how gorgeous they look lying against his dimples. My blood boils inside for this simple thing.

I sign. I liked your long hair.

He doesn’t understand. His confused frown makes me want to pull the skin right off Frank Davis’ face. Why couldn’t that undeserving bastard just leave Axel’s hair alone?

“Do it again,” he says.

I sign again. He frowns and then shakes his head with a tiny lift of his mouth. “I don’t understand,” he says.

I take out my phone and type it for him.

Axel’s discomfort increases tenfold when I turn my screen to him.

“I’m married,” he says.

I nod. I know. For the first time in my life, I regret not being able to speak like a hearing person. To tell him in elegant words everything I want to say.

I want to touch you.

I want to taste you.

I want to own every inch of your body.

I don’t care about that ring on your finger. I don’t care about the vows you made. I care nothing for a piece of paper that says you can’t be mine.

His body speaks volumes, contradicting his words. He speaks again, and I read him clearly.

“Kiss me,” he says.

I don’t think he’s finished speaking. I swallow his words into my mouth, kissing him with all the liberties offered to me by his permission.

His lips part beneath mine, warm and wet. He tastes of sweet tea and life itself. Of hope and happiness. My palms capture his face tightly and my tongue assaults his. He tangles his sweet tongue with mine, kissing me back harshly.

My hand moves to his neck. His groans vibrate in his throat, thrumming against my fingers. He sounds so beautiful.

His hands remain at his side until I try to break the kiss. Then he leans into me, his arms coming around my waist, holding me to him.

I smile against his mouth and kiss him again.

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