Embracing Reckless

by Melanie Shawn

  “Hey, Bran. There’s something I’ve been wanting to ask you about.”

  “I’ve never had a good conversation that started that way.” My attempt to joke in the face of nerves felt brittle even in my own mouth.

  “Don’t worry. This is nothing scary. At least I hope. And if I’m overstepping, just tell me to shut the fuck up.”

  I laughed. “Yeah. That sounds like me. So, what did you want to ask?”

  He gave me a little squeeze and then spoke gently. “It’s about last time we were in this room. Your nightmare. You seemed really terrified. Is that something that happens a lot?”

  I froze. Oh boy. This was a crossroads. I had a decision to make. I could either decide that this fling with Clay was just that—a fling—and keep it light, brush off the question with a joke and then change the subject. I could deflect with the best of them, and I knew he wouldn’t press too hard.

  But there was another path I could take, too. That was the scary one, because it was the road less traveled. It would entail being honest with Clay, and being vulnerable. Trusting him to do more than just take care of me when I was in a pinch, but trusting him with my heart, and my hurts. That was far more difficult.

  Still, I was doing a lot of scary things this week that I’d never done before, and even though this felt terrifying, it also felt right.

  I took a deep breath and answered honestly. “Yeah. I’d say so. That was a bad one, probably because of all the stressful things that’d happened that day, and the unfamiliar surroundings. But, if I’m honest, I’d say I probably get them a couple times a week.”

  Fuck. Was there anything in this world scarier than raw, unfiltered honesty? Than metaphorically stripping yourself bare in front of another person and just standing there, completely vulnerable, waiting to see how they’ll respond?

  BASE jumpers and skydivers and all the other kinds of adrenaline junkies out there were taking their lives in their hands unnecessarily. If they wanted to get a jolt of real fear, then unfiltered vulnerability was where it was at.

  Clay asked the inevitable follow-up question I knew was coming. “Where do you think they come from?”

  It wasn’t a matter of thinking when it came to the origins of my nightmares. I knew. I fought to keep my voice steady as I spoke. This wasn’t gonna turn into the kind of thing where I cried on his shoulder like a fragile flower and he patted me comfortingly and said, “there, there.” Or whatever people actually said outside of movies. The point was, I was no fragile damn flower, and I didn’t plan to start acting like one now.

  “They have to do with my childhood. It was…well, I suppose difficult is one way to put it. I had to take care of a lot. But that wasn’t the part that gives me nightmares. It would’ve just been about responsibility, that wouldn’t have been so bad. It was the chaos. Everything was unpredictable. I wasn’t just responsible for keeping the ship running in smooth seas. At any moment, a storm could spring up, and I had to figure out how to take care of Sandy and I as we got tossed around in our little boat.”

  I took a deep breath. “It’s left me feeling, even as an adult, that I can never trust it when things are going well. I’m on a constant vigil waiting for the other shoe to drop. Sandy, she handles it differently. Instead of waiting, she grabs the shoe and slams it down to the ground herself. That’s how she feels in control.

  “But that’s just as problematic for me. Because once she’s made a huge mess, she’s not the one that cleans it up. I do.”

  Clay stroked my hair as I spoke. He was quiet, giving me all the space I needed to get it out. When I finally finished, and waited with bated breath for him to say something, I felt lightheaded with nerves. How would I handle it if he belittled what I’d just said?

  I’d left the door open. I’d given him all the power. He could either use that power to build me up, or to crush me. I thought I knew what he would do, which is why I felt comfortable enough to open up that door. But you could never know with a hundred percent certainty how another person was going to react to something. That’s where the fear came in. That’s what made this more terrifying than bungee jumping.

  Clay took my chin in his hand and tilted my face up to look into his. When our eyes met, I saw nothing but the softest of compassion there, and when he spoke, his voice was so warm and tinged with admiration that it took my breath away.

  Okay. So this is why the adrenaline junkies do it. Because of the high when you’re on the other side and everything’s turned out all right.

  “You’re the strongest person I’ve ever met, Brandy. I admire you so much, taking care of your sister, and your mother, and never complaining about how unfair the whole thing was to you.”

  “Well, don’t go that far,” I teased. “I’m no saint. Believe me, I’ve complained to myself, raged, pouted. Lots of things that aren’t a good look.”

  “Sure, of course,” Clay chuckled. “You’re human. I guess I should’ve said never walking away. That’s what’s really remarkable. Complain all you want. You’ve earned it.”

  I took that in for a moment. Really let it sink into my brain and saturate my soul. “No. I never did walk away,” I conceded. “That’s the one thing that I never did. And the one thing I’d never do.”

  Clay lowered his head and kissed me softly, but with so much controlled passion it sent my heart galloping. “And that’s what makes you strong. What makes you special.” He smiled and brushed my hair back from my forehead. “What makes you Brandy.”

  Chapter 26

  Brandy

  “So, this is your dorm room,” Clay looked around, a satisfied smirk on his face.

  “Why do you look like somebody who has an especially juicy secret?”

  The smirk grew into a full-fledged grin. “Do I?”

  “Oh, yeah. You have a total cat and canary thing going on. You look entirely too pleased with yourself, and it makes me nervous. What’s going on?”

  He laughed at that. “It’s not that I’m pleased with myself. I’m just wondering something.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “What are you wondering?”

  “If you girls have a signal.”

  “What kind of signal? For what?”

  He put his hands on my waist, pulling me closer to him. “Oh, you know. Like a sock on the door.”

  “Because…the door has cold feet?” I knew exactly what he was talking about, but for some reason him being here, in Arcata, where I lived, made what was happening between us more real. Real was suddenly very scary.

  He kissed my forehead. “I love your naïveté. It’s adorable. But try to think outside the box right now. Take a guess. Why might someone need to put the dorm room equivalent of a ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign out on their door? What message might they need to send to the outside world—especially their roommates—about what kind of activities might be going on inside the room, and whether or not that means it’s a good idea for the roommates to come inside? Hmmm?”

  Knowing that the jig was up and I could no longer play dumb, I smiled and tried to play off my ‘ignorance.’ “I don’t even have to guess now that you’ve laid it all out like that. So, joke’s on you, mister. You made the classic guessing game mistake. Gave out too many clues. I win!”

  I was pretty sure I was overselling it thanks to my nerves. But how was I supposed to say that I knew exactly what he was getting at but everything was happening so fast and it just felt too personal? Too close for comfort?

  He tilted my chin up until I was looking into his eyes, jumping with mischief and amusement. “I’m not worried. The point of getting you to guess wasn’t really to play that game, anyway. It was more about introducing the topic of what comes after the game.”

  “As in…you?” I giggled again, this time at my play on words.

  Clay kissed me. “Brandy, I’ve never met anybody who laughs at their own jokes the way you do. Again, it’s adorable. I know I might be overusing that word, but it’s really the only one that fits.”

  I
shrugged, adopting an air of indifference. “I guess I’ll overlook your overuse. This once. But only since I kind of like it. And, anyway. I don’t laugh at my own jokes with anyone but you. I think that I’m just happier when we’re together.”

  He kissed me again, then, and this kiss held much more power than the first. This was the kind of kiss that didn’t meander down the road. It climbed in a Maserati and sped off to its destination with clear intent.

  He pulled back, breath heaving as he rested his forehead against mine.

  “So, since you guys don’t have a signal, do you have any idea when they might be back?”

  My chest rose and fell in heavy pants. My body wanted to be with Clay but I wasn’t sure my emotions were quite ready for that. What happened if, no when, he got on his motorcycle and rode away? How was I ever supposed to sleep in my bed after he’d made love to me in it?

  I didn’t like playing games with him, at least not ones where I was hiding what I was truly feeling. So, I pulled up my inner Badass Brandy and tried to face this head on.

  Clearing my throat, I whet my lips before lifting my eyes to his. “Sorry. I got too caught up in the whole ‘guessing game’ flirty banter thing…I should’ve said this right up front. I don’t think I can do that. Not here. It’s just too…vulnerable. I can’t explain it.”

  “I understand.” Clay smiled, and even though I could see in his eyes that he was disappointed, he took it good-naturedly, shrugging as he said, “Hey, you can’t blame a guy for tryin’.”

  An idea popped into my brain. It felt right, and I decided to follow the recent trend in my behavior to take Nike’s advice and “just do it.”

  I stepped closer, my movements slow and seductive, a wicked smile on my face. “You’re right,” I purred. “And that kind of effort should be rewarded.”

  I dropped to my knees in front of him and unfastened his jeans, then pulled both them and his boxer briefs down to mid-thigh in one swift movement.

  For what I had planned, they didn’t need to come down any farther than that.

  I leaned closer and engulfed his dick in my hot mouth. I’d surprised him, and everything had happened so quickly that he was barely hard. I loved that, though, because I got to feel him expand and stiffen in my mouth, his girth pressing against my tongue as his erection grew.

  I applied light suction to his rapidly-stiffening cock, drawing a low groan from deep in his throat. That sound was music to my ears. It encouraged me to keep going.

  I swirled my tongue around his shaft, applying extra pressure toward the back, near my throat, so there was even more friction against his sensitive tip than his shaft.

  He reached down and wove his fingers into my hair. There was a constant low hum coming from his throat now, and I realized that this was really my favorite part of sex with Clay…it wasn’t anything he did to me or any sensations I felt in my own body. Obviously, those were also freaking spectacular. But they weren’t my favorite part.

  No, what I liked best was noticing all of the effects I had on Clay. Every muscle twitch, every moan, every movement. Every word he said, every look in his eye. Each of these was another building block in the bond that was being built between us, and I cherished every single one.

  Not to mention, seeing how much I turned him on was just hot as hell.

  When I was with Clay, I felt like a sex goddess. It was addicting.

  I slid my hands back around to Clay’s ass and held him firmly as I sped my rhythm up to a fever pitch. His hands fisted into my hair and guided my head to an even faster and more frantic speed than I had chosen, leveling up the intensity.

  He was almost impossibly hard in my mouth now. His cock was a steel rod, and my mind was filled with images of the times he’d used that rock-hard dick to pound into me until I couldn’t even think straight.

  Yep. Clay’s cock had served me well. It deserved a reward for all of its amazing service, and I planned on treating it very, very nicely.

  “God, Bran. I’m close. I’m fucking close,” he groaned.

  I pulled back just long enough to mumble, “I know. I can tell.” Then I resumed my up and down motion on his dick. God, why was he using that warning tone, as if it was something bad? Something I needed to hide from? I wanted him to come.

  I wanted to feel his muscles tighten under my hands as he came, feel the little bit of the pain-and-pleasure combo that would zoom down my neck when he inevitably, and inadvertently, pulled my hair in the heat of the moment.

  I had to laugh at myself as my fantasies ran away with me. Damn, now that I’d opened the sexual floodgates in my brain, they weren’t going to be shut again anytime soon. That much was crystal clear.

  And since all of these scenarios were flooding my mind, I decided to make them come—no pun intended—to fruition.

  I pulled back again, this time far enough and long enough to clearly enunciate. “I want you to come in my mouth, Clay. I want to taste you, and I want to swallow you. Every. Last. Drop.”

  I didn’t even wait for his response before diving back onto his dick, moving my head up and down like a piston.

  Everything in me told me he was seconds away from popping off, from the way his ass tensed to the desperation in his grunts to the pressure in his hands as he pushed my head forward on his cock.

  He did come, then, with a hoarse yell and fingers wrapping locks of my hair up into his fists.

  He exploded into my mouth, and I immediately swallowed, gulping for all I was worth to keep up with the speed at which it was filling me up.

  When he was done and I’d drunk down every drop he had to give me, I stood and pulled his briefs and jeans back up and fastened them. I liked the congruity of it—that I’d sprung this on him as a surprise and then taken care of every single step along the way, from beginning to end.

  But there was another aspect to it I loved, and that was simple; I liked taking care of Clay. I liked doing things for him that brought him pleasure, or made things easier for him, or more fun.

  And it was a two-way street. I’d never met anyone who’d taken care of me the way Clay had. Returning the favor was a real pleasure, in more ways than one.

  I looked up into his face, witty bon mots fighting for real estate in my brain. Before I could choose one and go for it, though, the door opened, surprising the hell out of me.

  Shit, if I’d thought that any of my roommates were even in town, I never would’ve taken this risk.

  I spun to face the door, my eyes wide. I was sure I looked guilty as hell, and I did my best to wrestle my facial features into compliance before whoever was walking into the room made it through the door.

  Evelyn stepped in and tossed her duffel bag on her bed. “Hey, baby doll,” she greeted me cheerfully. “How was… your break?”

  I had to smile. I could always tell when Evelyn or Cat weren’t sure if it was me or Sandy when they first saw one of us. The inquiries were very general in nature, with nicknames or terms of endearment instead of first names.

  “It was great. Thanks. This is Clay.”

  Evelyn turned to him and waved. “Hey, Clay. Nice to meet you.”

  She looked back and forth between us a few times, a mischievous glint growing in her eyes. Finally, she smiled and said, “I don’t know exactly what you two crazy kids were up to right before I walked in here, but if you plan to continue it in the future, I think maybe we need to come up with a sock-on-the-door policy.”

  Chapter 27

  Clay

  I followed Brandy up and down the streets of Arcata, starting at the town square and going into all the little shops and restaurants that surrounded it, and spiraling out from there.

  It was a cute enough little town, don’t get me wrong. I liked it. But the main feature of the tour for me was the chance to watch her as she animatedly explained each place, what was great about it, what she loved about the town. Watching her face light up and then contort into different expressions as she told me complicated, multi-character stor
ies from her past that involved all of the different places that we were either stopping into or passing by.

  It was a glimpse into Brandy herself, and I had a front row seat.

  Still, I suspected that there was something deeper going on than her simply wanting to show off her hometown to me. Something she was trying to distract herself from.

  “Is it strange having me here?” I asked. My gut twisted at the thought of getting an answer I couldn’t live with, but I had to know the truth.

  “No. God, no. It’s great. What made you ask that?”

  “You seem a little…I don’t know. Manic.”

  She sighed. “I guess I am. I mean, Sandy’s getting back this afternoon. I guess that’s on my mind. It’s making me jittery.”

  I grabbed her arm, gently turning her toward me. “You know what’s really good for when something’s on your mind?”

  She smiled as if she knew a punchline was coming. It wasn’t. Just the truth.

  Her eyes twinkled. “What?”

  “Talking about it,” I said sincerely causing the twinkle to disappear. “Getting it all out there. Looking at it from every angle. Hey, that’s something I actually learned from Stuart. That if you have a tough problem in front of you, breaking it down into parts and looking at the parts one by one is a good strategy.”

  “Sure, I guess so.”

  “You know what you need for that, though?”

  “No. What?”

  I smiled. “A person to bounce things off of. You can’t really have a heart to heart with only one heart. You need someone else. Hmmm…damn. If only you had someone who was willing to listen to you, who actually knew all of the circumstances and all of the context…”

  She laughed. “Okay, Okay. I get it.”

  But I wasn’t done yet. “And if only that person was not only wise beyond his years, but also devilishly handsome. God. Wouldn’t that be amazing?”

  She stopped laughing and looked at me with sudden seriousness and sincerity. She took a step closer. “It is amazing,” she whispered.