BOSSY BROTHERS: TONY

by Huss, JA

  “Soshee.” I laugh. “You literally told me you were jealous of her yesterday.”

  “Yeah. But that was when things were all about Vann.”

  “And today things are not about Vann?”

  She keeps her hand over my heart and it responds by beating a little faster. “No.” She says this simply and seriously. “They’re about you. Of course.”

  “I see.”

  She takes her hand away but the heat from her touch remains. I linger in that heat and then make a decision. “Soshee?”

  “Hmm?”

  We are standing too close. She is two steps away, if that. Her head is tilted up, her eyes locked with mine, her mouth slightly open and her chest rising and falling underneath her tank top . “Can we end this date now?”

  Her chin juts back in surprise. “You want to end this date?”

  I nod my head slowly. “Yeah,” I whisper. “Because I’m ready for date four.”

  She looks down to hide her smile, but quickly looks back up again. “You’re trying to get out of how date three ends, aren’t you?”

  “No,” I say, taking her hand. “I’m just trying to put it behind us so we can start something new. Because I feel like… like… everything that came before now was about the past. And I want this day to be about the future.”

  She points at me. “Good answer.”

  “It was, wasn’t it?”

  She laughs. “OK. Date four it is. What should we do?”

  There’s a back door in the breakroom. I have no idea where it leads, but I don’t really care at the moment. I just need to get her out of here and into someplace else. So I take her over to the door. I open it up and when we walk out into the late morning sunshine, it really does feel like a new beginning.

  I start heading in the general direction of the car, still holding her hand.

  “Are we going home?” Soshee asks.

  “Home,” I repeat absently. We come to the edge of the alley and I look around, trying to figure out where the car is. I see it in the parking lot across the street and start heading that way. “Yeah. We’re going home.”

  “You’re sure? I mean, we’re already in Boulder. I can think of a lot of unique ways to spend date four right here.”

  “Such as?”

  “We could go to the park and make fun of the hippies. Or stand in front of a random Subaru Outback and pretend we’re the cool outdoorsy cats who own it. Oooh, I know. We could get drunk on a craft brewery tour. Or maybe buy some pot, smoke out, and then crash a chemistry lecture at the university and giggle like idiots until we get kicked out.”

  I look at her and shake my head. Because I could totally picture her doing all those things. “Now who’s trying to get out of the end of date three?”

  “Me?” She points to herself as we stop in front of her crappy Corolla. “Why would I want to get out of the end of date three? You were wearing nothing but a towel two hours ago, mister. I was ready to end date three before it even started. Now we’re an hour away from a decent place to fuck, probably gonna run out of gas on the way home, have to hitch a ride into Berthoud on a tractor, and fuck in a gas station bathroom as we wait for the tow truck to drop the car because we won’t be able to stand the sexual tension for one moment longer.”

  I toss my head back and laugh. She laughs too. But then I get serious and place my hands on her hips and press my chest up to her breasts. I lean into her ear and whisper, “I’m only going to warn you once, Soshee Ameci. If you talk dirty to me like that again, I won’t be responsible for what happens next.”

  “Mmm,” she hums. “Now I’m intrigued. What would happen next?”

  “I’ll throw you down on the hood of this car, hike that cute tennis skirt up to your hips, and fuck you into oblivion in front of this whole town.”

  She hisses out a chuckle and pushes me backwards. “Get in the car, before I decide that sounds like a pretty good time.”

  God, this woman. I like her. A lot.

  But as fun as the whole public fuck thing sounds, that’s something I would do with Rosalinda back in the day. And I’m done with her. One hundred percent done with her. So done with her that I want everything I do with Soshee from this moment on to be the exact opposite of how I’ve handled things in the past.

  So I get in the car and we leave Boulder and her crazy tea-reading mother behind.

  Soshee talks the whole way home. Just like she did while I was in the shower earlier. It’s a habit of hers that I could get used to. She has baggage. Everyone has baggage. But she’s not one of those girls who dwells on it. She’s always in the present. Not looking back or forward. Just enjoying the moment.

  She articulated this philosophy of hers last night when she was talking about her apartment. She knew it was temporary but she was going to enjoy every second of her experience there until it ended.

  I heard her. And I believed her. Didn’t have a reason not to. But I didn’t really think about what that meant.

  She is comfortable in her skin. That’s what it means.

  It’s a skill I’ve never really mastered. I’ve spent most of my life thinking about the past and how it relates to the future. Soshee Ameci is a breath of fresh air.

  When she finally pulls her car into the parking lot behind the Fort Collins Theater, it’s a little after noon. She turns the engine off and turns in her seat to look at me.

  “So,” she says.

  “Here we are,” I say.

  “Mmm-hmm.”

  “Are we going to sit in the car?”

  “No. We’re getting out. But I have one question.”

  “You want to know my intentions with you before I take you upstairs and fuck you into Sunday?”

  She points at me. “Sure. That’s good too. But no. My question is… should we go and tell Belinda and Vann what we know first?”

  I look in the direction of Sick Boyz. I can’t see it from here because the theater building is in the way. But I can picture it just fine all the same.

  The thought of seeing and talking to them right now… well, that’s just a great big no. Actually, it’s not Vann who bothers me. It’s Rosalinda. Every time I think about her I get that sick feeling. For some reason I still don’t understand, Rosalinda feels like a crisis waiting to happen and I’d actually like to pretend she doesn’t exist anymore.

  I open my door, get out, walk around the car, and open up Soshee’s door. Then I extend my hand to her and say, “I have no idea who you’re talking about.”

  She smiles and shakes her head.

  “Come on,” I say, beckoning her by wiggling my fingertips. “Sunday isn’t going to wait forever.”

  “What?”

  “For me to fuck you into it.”

  “Oh, my God.”

  I take her hand and pull her out of the car, kick the door closed with my foot, and then start leading her toward the apartments.

  But just as we’re about to walk inside, the loud rumble of a motorcycle makes us both look towards the street. The bike pulls up in front of Sick Boyz and the engine cuts off.

  “Well,” Soshee says, “I don’t know what to think of their timing.”

  Their timing is a reference to the riders of said bike.

  Vann and Belinda.

  I look at Soshee, searching her face for torment over the fact that her guy was never hers to begin with.

  But there’s no torment there. Just a wide grin. “Hello? Sunday called. Said time’s a-wasting.”

  I decide to learn a lesson today about living in the moment.

  I grab the door and hold it open for the only girl who matters. “We don’t want to disappoint Sunday.”

  She walks through and I follow her. I hold her hand all the way up to the fourth floor.

  There is no discussion about whether we’re going to my place or hers. My rental was never even a possibility, let alone a question.

  And when she finally opens the door and waves me inside, I step across her threshold like a man enter
ing a new life. Like a guy who finally understands the meaning of home.

  And really, it’s not about her apartment—even though it’s the warmest, most welcoming space I’ve ever been in. We’re not staying here. This place is just where we’ve landed in this moment. Whatever happens in the weeks and months to come, it’s not going to happen here.

  This is the first step towards a new day.

  She closes the door quietly and suddenly there’s a lot of emptiness in the room.

  No words. No noise seems to leak in from the city down below. No music or even the sound of our own breathing.

  I walk over to her massive wall of windows and even though looking down would be natural, I don’t look down. Looking down is like looking back. Instead I look at the rays of sunshine filtering their way around and through the amber beads of her Bohemian curtains.

  She walks up behind me. Stops and stays still and quiet. And when I turn to face her, she lets out a breath.

  I study her for a moment. The way her long legs disappear inside the pleats of her short skirt. The way her t-shirt hugs her breasts and reveals the thin outline of her bra underneath. Her long, scarlet hair and her wide green eyes glisten in the bright light of day.

  She reminds me of fire.

  Not the heat or even the color of fire. The draw of it. The beauty. The pull.

  I’m familiar with that pull, but this is different.

  Soshee Ameci was right about her self-assessment. She is a lovely little bottle of poison. She holds something inside herself that is uniquely hers. Something powerful and dangerous. Something mysterious and mystical.

  Not the way her mother is mystical. Not something ethereal. Something much more real than that. Something almost… tangible.

  She is the villain in the story.

  But so am I.

  And I think that makes us a pretty good team.

  I reach for her and pull her towards me, a new desire building inside me. A new willingness too. “I’m not good with words. I don’t have a name for this. No label or description. I don’t really understand how we even got here when two days ago I didn’t even know you existed. But when I’m with you I feel like a totally different person. When you talk I want to listen. When you lead I want to follow. I like you, Soshee. I need you to know that before we get any further into our fourth date in two days. I like you. I’m here for you.”

  She inhales slowly and holds her breath for a moment, her eyes searching mine for a few brief seconds. “I like you too, Tony.”

  I want to say more. I suddenly wish I had taken notes last night when I was eavesdropping in on Vann’s big speech. Because I feel different and I don’t think what I just said is enough. I wish I could pull all the confusing, conflicting feelings out of my heart and turn them into words.

  I’m about to give it a try when Soshee’s fingertip gently presses against my lip. “It’s OK. I get it.”

  And then she kisses me.

  Just like that. She just… takes over. Takes charge and kisses me. She ends forty-eight hours of mystery and intrigue and turns it into reality.

  My hands come up to her face and I hold her as I kiss her back. Her lips are soft and she tastes like sweet, refreshing oranges on a bright spring day. I slide one hand into her long, thick mane while the other one travels down the side of her body and lands on her hip.

  She’s lifting my shirt up, her long red-tipped fingernails gently brushing against the tanned-brown skin of my waist.

  “I have a sudden urge to do very dirty things with you,” I say.

  She responds by reaching for the button of my jeans and popping it open. There is no hesitation. No second-guessing. Her hand slips down inside my jeans and when she takes my already growing shaft in the palm of her hand and squeezes it, I suddenly feel like this was the point.

  This was the point.

  Her. Me. Us. This.

  My hand slides under her skirt. Right between her legs. No hesitation on my part either.

  She pushes me backwards, still holding my cock in her hand, until my lower back hits the window ledge. I open my legs wide enough to let her slip her hips between them. My fingers ease past her panties and slide right up into a delicious pool of wetness.

  And then her mouth is on mine, her tongue dancing past my lips as she tugs my pants down just enough to free my cock and then, before I even know what’s happening, she’s looking me in the eyes as she squats down and takes her kisses with her.

  The moment her lips touch the tip of my cock I suck in a deep breath and want to close my eyes.

  But I don’t close my eyes. I don’t want to miss a single second of this new beginning.

  I wish I could play with her pussy as she teases me with her tongue, licking my head and swirling it around the tip like she’s about to devour something delicious. But then she opens her legs and adjusts her skirt so I have the perfect view as she begins to tease herself too.

  “Fuck, Soshee,” I moan.

  She grins at me, winks, and then opens her mouth and places my cock on her tongue.

  My fingers thread through her hair and then I fist it, holding her tight. She stares up at me. Daring me to take control.

  But I wait. I wait her out because I like her power. She makes a little noise that might be a giggle and then wraps her lips around my shaft and sucks me off.

  I grip her hair, fighting an almost uncontrollable urge to force my dick down her throat. It’s a pointless battle because she eases forward until I feel the back of her throat, like she can read my mind and my wish is her command. She holds it there like she’s testing herself or maybe rising to a challenge.

  “Soshee,” I murmur. “Oh, my God, that feels amazing.”

  She pulls back, letting my cock fall out of her mouth. But she wraps both hands around it and begins massaging it, pumping her fists up and down my shaft in slow, even strokes.

  My eyelids are suddenly very heavy. She watches me the whole time during the hand job. Grinning like a girl with a secret. Attentive like she knows exactly what I need.

  And she must. Because everything about her is perfect.

  But enough. Enough, Tony. This isn’t all about you. I place my hand over hers and grip it, then guide her up so she’s standing again.

  She opens her mouth to say something—maybe something cute, maybe a little joke about what we’ll do next—but I kiss her before she can talk. And then I lift her up with both hands, turn us around, and set her down on the window ledge. This time she’s the one opening her legs and I’m the one easing between them. My fingers automatically slip inside her. She is dripping wet with anticipation. So, so ready for me.

  Her hands are still massaging my cock. Up and down my shaft. Squeezing and turning.

  I push my fingers deeper inside her and she pauses her motion for a moment to moan my name. “Tony,” she says, her breath ragged and deep.

  I bite her lip and kiss her on the mouth, my tongue picking up the dance she started earlier. I push my hips forward, still playing with her pussy, my thumb rubbing small circles over her clit as I grind against her open thighs.

  She guides my cock to her entrance and it slips inside as I withdraw my fingers. “Holy fuck,” she whines. “Oh, my God,” she hisses as my cock fills her up and goes in deep.

  I press forward, forcing her to lean back against the window. Sunlight is pouring in through the glass, highlighting her deep red hair with bits of fiery gold. I grab it with both hands and hold her steady as I pull out and thrust forward again. Then do it again. And again.

  She moans each time. And each time I push a little further up inside her until she gasps and her body goes stiff.

  “Everything OK?” I ask, my own words also surprisingly deep and throaty.

  She grips my shoulders in response, her fingernails digging into the hard round muscles so hard they sting. I punish her a little for that and thrust hard. She gasps again. But when I ease back to give her some relief, she pulls me forward again. Trying to get
me closer. Trying to press our bodies together so tight, we stop being two people and just become one.

  “Fuck me,” she moans. “Just… fuck me. Right now.”

  She says this with eyes wide open. The little flecks of gold around the edge of her irises catch the halo of light from her hair, making her look surreal and mystical.

  But I can feel her. Inside and out.

  She’s not a dream. She’s real.

  And this… this slow, careful, easy fuck belongs to us now.

  This is how we do it.

  This is our new beginning.

  I let go of her hair and brace both hands on the warm panes of glass on either side of her body and then bury my head in her neck as I move my hips and she lifts up her knees and opens her legs.

  And then I say, “Come for me, Sosh. Come all over my cock.”

  Even though that never works, like ever works, it works.

  She comes. She moans and writhes, and wiggles against me as she pants in my ear, dirty words spilling out of her mouth like water running down a mountain. “Oh, fuck yeah. Your cock is so big. This feel so good. Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t you dare… fucking… stop!”

  The heat of her passion coats my cock and the muscles of her pussy clamp down on it like a vice. And that’s it. Date three, four… one… whatever this is… it’s over.

  I pull out and come on the inside of her leg as I kiss her mouth like I just found my perfect supervillain partner.

  CHAPTER TWENTY - BELINDA

  I can’t quite decide what I’m feeling as I work the front counter at Sick Boyz.

  Is it… the elation of a new relationship? Or the anxiety of a new relationship? Is it hope? Or fear? Or both?

  I can’t tell.

  Here is what I do know:

  Every time Vann comes up front to get a client the first thing he does when he appears from the hallway is smile at me. He’s looking for me before I even come into view. Sometimes that smile comes with a wink. And I find myself straining to hear snippets of his conversations in the back.

  I can’t hear much. His studio is too far down the hall and there are three busy, buzzing studios in between us. But every now and then I’ll catch a laugh. Or a few words being said loudly.