by Megan Hart
“How do you know what time I work?” Bess asked suspiciously, but she was already slinging her backpack over her shoulders and facing toward the boardwalk rather than the street.
“I just know.” Nick wiggled his hand and made a “woowoo” noise. “Like a psychic.”
“Uh-huh.” She hooked her fingers into the straps of her backpack just below her armpits. The sidewalk wasn’t deserted even this late, but it was far less crowded and she and Nick could walk side by side.
She paused when they got to the ramp leading to the boardwalk next to the Blue Surf Motel, toeing off her sneakers and pulling off her socks. She tucked the socks inside the shoes and put them in her backpack. She wiggled her toes on the wood, still warm from the summer sun though it had set a couple hours before. She sighed.
Nick laughed. “Long day?”
“A lot of standing. You have to stand at work, too, don’t you?”
They walked together to the stairs leading down to the sand. Streetlamps lit the beach here, turning it to stark whiteness but leaving the sea itself in shadows. The sand was still kicked up, not yet smoothed by the grooming trucks. She spied more than one half-destroyed castle.
“Yeah.” Nick bent to untie his boot laces and pulled his boots off. He staggered, off balance.
Bess laughed when he fell, and he grinned up at her, his eyes flashing. He got up, brushing the sand from his rear and dangling his boots from his other hand.
“You’re lucky I don’t get easily insulted,” he told her.
“Sorry,” she said without remorse.
Nick snorted. “Uh-huh. Right. I know how girls are.”
“That’s what I heard.” Bess scraped one foot along the chilling sand as she walked and left a line behind them. In the morning it would be gone.
Nick turned around to face her, walking backward. “Heard what?”
Bess looked sideways at him. “That you know all about girls. A lot of girls.”
He turned again, still walking. “Who told you that?”
“Who do you think?”
He shot her a glance. “Same bitch who told you I was queer? She’s a real reliable source.”
Bess feigned nonchalance. “I’m just saying what she said.”
“Which is what, exactly?”
They’d reached an outcrop of rock, big slabs of it poking from the sand like the back of an alligator, or a dinosaur. The jetty. The waves crashed louder here. Bess hopped up on the rock and Nick followed.
“Well, after I told her I knew you weren’t gay—”
“Jesus.” Nick snorted. “Ryan really reamed her for that, by the way.”
“Did he?” Bess hopped onto the sand on the rock’s other side. The lamps had ended with the boardwalk. Light still shone behind them but in front the only glow came from the windows of houses lining the beach.
“Yeah. He was pissed.”
This was interesting. “Because she said you were gay?”
“No.” Nick snorted again, laughing. “Because she tried to get me to fuck her.”
“Oh.” Bess wished she hadn’t asked. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t known, but she didn’t want to hear it.
“I didn’t.” Nick stopped walking, and so did she. “If you care.”
Bess shrugged. “Why should I care?”
He stared at her. The wind came up and tugged at the tied ends of his bandanna. He reached up to slide it off his head, and the wind played then with his hair. After what felt like a very long time, he smiled. “You tell me.”
“According to Missy you fuck a lot of girls.”
“I didn’t fuck her.”
Bess started walking again, her stride determined. Light behind, darkness ahead. She didn’t need the light to know where she was going.
“It’s not my business, Nick.”
“So Missy told you I’m what, some sort of big slut?”
It wasn’t a word Bess had often heard used for a boy, and she laughed. Nick didn’t. “Are you?”
“I thought it wasn’t any of your business.”
“It’s not!”
“I’m not queer,” Nick said, “and I’ve screwed pretty many girls. Just not Missy.”
He’d stopped walking again, and Bess did, too. She turned to face him. He’d linked his boot laces together over one wrist and shoved his hands into his pockets again. She crossed her arms, wishing she’d taken her sweatshirt out of her backpack before hitting the beach.
“I’m sorry,” she said after a minute stretched out with nothing but the sound of the waves between them. “It’s really none of my business.”
“What else did she say about me?”
From farther up the beach came the sound of laughter and the sudden bright flare of green glow sticks being activated. Bess watched them circling through the air, tossed by unseen hands, before looking back at Nick.
“That you used to go out with Heather.”
Nick’s breath hissed out of him and he glanced away. He pulled the package of Swisher Sweets from his pocket and lit one, cupping it to keep the wind from blowing out the lighter’s flame. The fire lit his face briefly, casting it in red and gold. When he clicked the lid shut, everything seemed blacker until her eyes adjusted.
“And let me guess. I screwed around on her, right? Broke her heart? Oh, I was so eeevil, right?”
“Is that what happened?”
“She cheated on me, that’s what happened.”
“I’m sorry.” Bess wasn’t surprised. She didn’t ask if Heather had broken his heart.
Nick shrugged. Fragrant smoke tickled her nose. “Shit happens.”
“Even so. That sucks.”
He looked at her. “Yeah. Whatever. That was the last time I’ll ever be someone’s ‘boyfriend.’”
Bess paused as a group of teenagers ran past them, tossing their glow sticks and shouting.
“You make it sound like a bad thing,” she said when they’d gone.
They started walking again. Every now and again Nick’s cigar would glow as he drew in a breath. Bess watched the cherry tip get brighter and fade as she waited for him to answer. They were almost at her house.
“Yeah,” he said finally.
“So…you just…fuck them?” She stumbled on the word even though it wasn’t as if she was a prude. No matter what Missy said. “What kind of girl puts up with that?”
“The lucky ones?” He grinned, but when she didn’t smile in return, it faded. “Hey, I was kidding. I didn’t screw Missy. She’s Ryan’s girl. I don’t poach.”
That term, the one she used herself, set Bess back a step. “Well…good to know.”
She pointed up ahead to the deck of her grandparents’ house. Lights blazed from inside the kitchen and living room, and several candles burned on the railings. The wind brought the sound of laughter. Probably her aunt Linda. The little kids would be in bed, but the nightly game of rummy would just be getting under way.
“That’s mine,” she said.
“Nice.” Nick stopped when she did.
“It’s okay. Crowded but…yeah, it’s nice.” Bess was tired of defending where she lived. Missy usually made it into such a big deal.
Nick looked up at the house, then at her, and finally down to the water. “I guess I’ll head back, then.”
“Oh…okay.”
“Unless you want me to stay? Invite me up to meet the folks?” He grinned at her.
“Umm…”
“Nah.” He cut her off before she could answer. “I’ve got to get going.”
“Thanks for walking me home.” Bess wanted to explain it wasn’t that she didn’t want to invite him in. She never invited anyone in. But it wasn’t anything about Nick in particular….
“No problem.” He bent to pick up a stone or a piece of shell, and winged it into the waves. “I wanted to tell Missy we spent the night together and my mama didn’t raise a liar.”
Bess startled into laughter. “Oh…!”
He turned to her and smile
d. The light from the deck fell across his face, maybe even blinded him a little. Bess’s hair flew across her eyes and she pushed it away. When she finished, he was closer. Close enough to murmur in her ear, “Tell me something.”
If Bess turned her head, their cheeks would touch. She’d be able to brush his skin with her mouth. She could breath him now, smell him, the scent of sun and sand and sunscreen. Her heart tried to jump out of her chest. She felt its pulse in her throat and wrists, between her legs. She didn’t turn her head.
“What?” she whispered.
“What does ‘sort of’ boyfriend mean?”
She swallowed hard. “It means…I’m not sure. It means I think he’s cheating on me.”
“But you don’t know, for sure?”
When she shook her head, the soft brush of his cheek on hers made her knees weak. “No.”
“Maybe you ought to find out.” Nick breathed this last directly into her ear.
His arm brushed hers, and his hip. If anyone were to look out and see them, she knew it would look as though they were kissing. If he moved even a fraction of an inch, or if she did, they would be.
“Maybe I should.”
He took only one step away, but it might as well have been a million. Bess blinked rapidly and drew in a deep breath, trying to seal the smell of him inside her but finding only the smell of the ocean. Without saying anything else, Nick backed off and left her there.
She had to wait a long time before her legs stopped shaking, so she could go inside.
CHAPTER 11
Now
“Where were you?” Nick came out of the shadows between the living room and kitchen. He still wore only boxers, and his hair was spiked and rumpled.
His sudden appearance and the loudness of his voice so startled Bess she dropped one of her bags. Hoping it wasn’t the one containing the eggs, she bent to retrieve it before she answered. “I told you I was going to get some groceries and buy you some clothes. They’re in that bag on the table.”
“You were gone for hours.” Nick didn’t sound appeased.
Bess looked up. His mouth had turned down at the corners. She glanced at the clock. He was right. “I’m sorry. I ran into Eddie Denver in town and we got to talking.”
Nick sneered. “Eddie Denver, that punk?”
“He’s not a punk!” Bess unpacked milk, eggs, bread, peanut butter, lettuce. “You didn’t even know him!”
Nick hitched himself up on top of the counter, legs dangling, and snagged her wrist as she leaned past him to put away some boxes of chai. “You used to work with him. I know who he was.”
“Yes, well, you don’t know who he is,” Bess said with a pointed glance at his hand on her. “And he is not a punk.”
Nick didn’t let her go. He tugged her between his open legs and used them to hold her tight against the counter. “Fine. He’s not a punk. You were still gone a long time. I missed you.”
He put her hand on his back and grasped her shoulders. He kissed her, though it took a bit of contorting to do so. Bess opened her mouth to his urging, her annoyance fleeing in favor of arousal.
“You taste good,” Nick murmured against her mouth.
“Ugh. I’m sure I have coffee breath.”
He anchored his fist at the back of her neck and put his face close to hers, then sniffed so audibly she giggled and tried to pull away. “Everything about you smells good,” Nick said. “Tastes good. Feels good.”
His hands moved over her body as they kissed. Bess put her palms on his thighs, her fingertips just beneath the hem of his boxers. The coarse hairs on his legs tickled her fingers. She stroked her thumb over his skin and was rewarded by the prickle of gooseflesh.
Nick took one of her hands and put it to his groin. “See what you do to me?”
He stroked her hand up and down along his prick, which poked through the front of his boxers. His mouth claimed hers, tongue probing and stroking at the same pace as their joined hands. The fingers on the base of her skull tightened, squeezing gently, and Bess moaned at the pressure.
“Tell me I do the same to you,” Nick demanded, his mouth next to her ear now.
“You do.”
“Tell me I make you wet.”
“You do, Nick. You know you do.” Bess closed her eyes as his hand gripped hers, up and down, up and down along his erection. “You always did.”
“Always?” He sounded amused. His tongue flicked her earlobe, followed a moment later by his teeth, and she shivered. “You like the way I touch you?”
“Yes.” She opened her eyes and pulled away enough to look into his face. “I like the way you touch me.”
“Do you want me to touch you now?”
“Yes.”
Gone were thoughts of making sure the ice cream made it to the freezer, of putting away the grocery bags to save for use another time. Nothing else mattered just then but the way Nick’s dark eyes held hers and the feeling of his cock in her palm. Bess shivered again, experiencing her own gooseflesh.
Nick’s hands were hot, and more heat radiated from his bare chest when she bent her head to kiss him just above his left nipple. Bess pressed a kiss there, leaving a faint smudge of lipstick. She licked his nipple, smiling when it tightened and when he moaned as she sucked it gently.
The fist at the back of her head moved up to pull her hair from its coil. Nick’s fingers tugged through the length, tangling and pulling, but Bess didn’t wince. She stroked him as she licked and kissed his skin. The handle of the drawer in front of her dug into her just above her pubic bone. She didn’t wince at that, either.
“I love your hair.” Nick wrapped his fist in it and tipped her head back. Too hard, too rough, but it didn’t matter. The suddenness of the gesture left Bess gasping. He pulled her away from the counter as he pushed himself off it and onto the floor, which vibrated as he landed. He was already kissing her by the time he did.
He backed her up, step by step, without letting go of her mouth. When her ass hit the edge of the kitchen table, Bess yelped. The table scraped across the tile. She put her arms down, fingers curling around the edge.
Nick’s hand dived under her long cotton gypsy skirt. His thumb hooked her panties and yanked them downward. The material caught on her thighs, but he slid his palm against her anyway. His fingers slipped through her curls and found the waiting wetness.
He drew his fingers up and centered one on her clit, then he pressed. Bess twitched. She couldn’t open her legs wide enough, bound as they were by the elastic around her thighs. Her skirt cushioned her ass but the table edge still dug into her flesh.
Nick’s tongue flickered over her lips before he kissed her hard again. His fingers curled against the base of her skull while the other hand moved between her legs. He held her like that, in two places, and though she could have pushed him away, she didn’t.
“I feel your heart beating here.” Nick jiggled his finger against her clit. He nudged her chin up so he could fasten his mouth on her throat. “And here.”
Bess took a deep breath. Cobwebs laced the ceiling corners and stirred in the breeze from the fan. That same breeze made the heat of Nick’s tongue all the fiercer.
She put one hand on his shoulder, digging when he bit and sucked on her neck. Her hips moved against his hand. He pulled away to look at her face.
“You like that?” He wasn’t smiling. His mouth had pursed in concentration.
Bess jumped at the sudden crack of thunder, but Nick didn’t flinch. His eyes were darker than usual. Like a storm.
“Yes,” she whispered past dry lips. She licked her mouth and his gaze fastened on the swipe of her tongue before capturing her eyes again. “I like it.”
“Did you think about me while you were away?”
She didn’t know if he meant this evening or the longer time when she’d been gone, but the answers to both were the same. “Yes, Nick.”
His fingers slowed on her clit. Teasing. He’d learned her body in the past two days better tha
n he ever had. He paused until her muscles tensed, and then he started again.
“Did you think about me touching you?”
“Yes.”
“Fucking you?”
“God, yes.” Bess groaned as his hand between her legs made it impossible to imagine thinking of anything else.
“Tasting you?” He pulled his hand up and swiped his tongue along his fingertips.
She shuddered, unable to answer.
Nick smiled, his eyes as dark as the storm outside. Thunder boomed again. He put his hand back between her legs. His fingers slipped faster, coated with his saliva and her own wetness. Bess gripped the table and his shoulder hard enough to cramp her fingers.
“I want to watch your face when you come,” Nick said. “I want to see you looking at me.”
She could look nowhere else.
Nick’s hand moved a little faster. Bess tensed. Lightning lit the window and thunder followed closely after. The first spatter of rain hit the glass like the sound of marbles clattering into a jar.
Her inner muscles fluttered. Her feet skidded on the tile. The elastic of her panties, stretched to the limit, crackled in protest, but Bess couldn’t care about ruining them. The world had become Nick’s hand between her legs.
She swam inside the pleasure as it swelled and finally overflowed. Her eyelids fought to stay open, and she bit her lower lip hard enough to sting, only to open her mouth wide in a gasp the next second when Nick’s touch sent her over the edge.
Thunder drowned out her strangled cry. All she could see was his face, serious until he smiled and chased the darkness from his gaze. Bess put the hand that had been gripping the table over his to still it, her body pulsing faster than her heartbeat. She relaxed her grip on his shoulder, too, and felt the indentations her nails had made in his skin.
The phone rang.
Both of them startled and looked toward the sound, which was somehow more invasive than the fading thunder. Neither moved. The phone rang again, and again. Bess meant to move toward it, but her legs had grown so stiff she couldn’t at first straighten them. By the time she got to the phone, the ancient corded handset that had been part of the house forever, she was sure the person on the other line would have hung up.