“What do you think is gonna happen?” she asked, twirling a glass of vodka and orange juice she had poured for the both of us. Tonight was going to be one of those nights.
“Well, I can’t see these two doing anything that serious. I think they’re just trying to teach us a lesson.”
“Yeah, but a lesson for what?! We didn’t do anything,” she protested, twirling her glass in her handle and creating a dangerous swirl of orange alcohol.
“They don’t know that,” I said, resting my chin on the top of her head, smelling her shampoo. It was like a beach underneath my nose, coconut, sand, and suntan lotion.
It was comforting.
“Can’t we talk to them?” she suggested, not realizing that there was just no way to prove it wasn’t them. Not without finding who ratted them out in the first place. I slid my hands down to cradle her front, feeling the soft fabric of her blue UCLA t-shirt underneath my hands. Her smell filled my senses again, taking me back to the days of lounging out on the beach, not a care in the world. A cold Coors popped open, the drops of condensation sliding down the cool bottle, darkening the light sand underneath.
Those were the days.
“I mean, what are the police going to do?” I asked. They were already going to talk to Ally, them talking to Marco wasn’t going to help. And I doubt they could have arrested him yet when we didn’t even really have any proof.
“I’m going to hire a hitman. I’ll hire a hitman off of craigslist is what I’ll do. Think they have payment plans?” she asked, perfectly serious. I couldn’t see her face, so I didn’t see the small smile that picked up dimpled cheeks.
“I’ll pitch in. Maybe we can get a fundraising campaign going.”
“Yeah, imagine the pitch for that: ‘Will you help two innocent lovers stay safe by murdering their future assailants? Donate five dollars today.’ I think we would go far,” she said, not being able to hide her chuckle.
“So we’re lovers?” I asked, I wasn’t about to let that one slide. I smirked into her golden brown mane and breathed her in again, taking it all in, not only her alluring, beachy scent, but the whole moment.
This girl was addictive.
I wrapped my hands around her and suddenly felt the alcohol begin taking a stronger hold of me, then I started to realize how hot Courtney’s back felt on my dick. I started to feel the swelling sensation again, the tightening of my boxers, the pulsing in my crotch.
Even with the danger, I couldn’t help but lust for this girl.
My hands unbound from her waist and climbed up, passing over her breasts and tightening over her shoulder muscles, massaging the tension away, making Courtney’s head loll to the sides in pleasure, her body slackening.
“I’m scared,” she whispered, still becoming looser under my touch, molding more and more to the shape of my body, applying more pressure to my growing bulge. I knew she must have felt it, the hardness pressing against the small of her back, needing to be inside of her.
“I’m here,” I reassured her, running a hand up the side of her neck and turning her around, guiding her face up to mine, allowing our lips to meet again in their hungry embrace. The one that consumed all my senses and set my nerves on fire. The one that was better than a line of coke.
Her hands traveled down to my hardening dick, the outline now apparent through the fabric of my jeans as it strained upwards, yearning for her. She rubbed it from the outside, traveling the full length, sending chills through my groin and straight up my back. I grabbed her ass and pushed her into me, feeling her moistening mound through the thin gym shorts she was wearing.
I slipped an upturned hand under her waistband and palmed at her wet pussy, feeling her juices soak my fingers. I slid a thick middle finger through her lips, parting them for me, teasing her soaking entrance with the tip of my finger. She moaned into my mouth, giving me the signal, asking for me to be inside of her.
I slid in. My finger probed her inside, pushing against her inner walls, stretching her tightness. She shook around me, the pleasure overtaking her as my palm applied pressure to her throbbing clit.
Her hands undid the zipper of my jeans and pulled down my briefs, releasing my straining cock, its full thickness throbbing under the light. She wrapped both her hands around my width and tightened her grip, stroking up and down, becoming more vigorous as I quickened my pace inside of her.
I started pumping upwards, pushing my finger in deeper, applying more and more pressure. Another hand raised up to cup her breast, feeling the rosy pink nipple underneath hard with excitement. I slid out her erect nipple and rolled it in my fingers, leaning down and taking it in my mouth. The firmness of my tongue and the twitching of my finger sent Courtney into a shattering orgasm as her muscles gave out underneath her, sending her down onto my thighs and convulsing against my chest.
Her reaction was all I needed to cum, my cock pulsing in her grip as it shot out ropes of my seed, ecstasy coursing through every single fiber of my being. In that moment, we forgot all about life-threatening situations or unexpected pregnancies, all we thought about was each other, sharing a moment between the two of us that was impossible to replicate.
Not with anyone else.
She smiled at me as our lips met again. This time in a slower, but just as passionate, display of affection. In that moment, we both knew it would be ok. It had to be ok.
There was no way this could get ruined.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Nothing was ruined for five days. Five days of staying with Courtney, spending the time laughing, kissing, fucking, spooning, laughing some more. Even with the threat of a vengeful drug addict looming over us, we somehow were able to ease each other’s tension. We were able to be blissfully ignorant of the threat and just get lost in each other’s flesh for hours, keeping each other happy and safe.
“I think I need a gun,” I said, one morning just before I lifted a spoonful of cereal up to my mouth.
Courtney looked over to me, raising an eyebrow and cocking a hip, “weren’t you super anti-gun?” she asked. And she was right, I was previously against them, I felt like they were causing more wrong than right, and to be honest, I still thought that. But I couldn’t deny that the unfortunate truth was, a gun would make me potentially feel safer. It would be insurance. A gun would make sure that nothing happened to Courtney if worse came to worse.
“It’ll be a hot date,” I said, smirking over another spoonful, drinking her in with my gaze. She just had on a lacy bra and a red thong. Emma was staying over Ryan’s so she wasn’t too scared of her walking in on us so scantily clothed, me with no shirt and boxer-briefs that hugged my crotch tight.
“Only if you put on those sexy glasses cops wear all the time,” she said, returning my smirk and one-upping me with a sexy bite on her lower lip.
“I thought you had a thing for doctors, not cops.”
“Hey, hey, hey. Just because you like a nice fillet-mignon doesn’t mean you can’t have a rough t-bone every now and then,” she said.
“I’m assuming I’m the rough t-bone in this equation,” she giggled a bit and walked back into her room, the bottom of her ass making the perfect bubble shape, making me want to chase after her.
“Let’s go, bitch. We’re going shooting.”
The gun attendant, or guard, whatever he was, gave us both the safety rundown and showed us the basic way to handle a gun. Before this moment, I had never actually held one in my hands. I took a standard issue Glock and was surprised by the heaviness of it in my hands. It was thick, weighty. Powerful.
I have to be honest, I was a little scared. Flashes of that fucked up night started to pop up, bringing me back to that moment. Hearing the gun blast and smelling the acrid gunpowder sting my nose while my blood poured out of me.
“You sure you want to do this,” Courtney said, placing a reassuring hand on the top of mine. She must have noticed my color leave me a bit. I took a deep breath and collected myself. This was something I was going to overcome,
just like I did with the drugs. Courtney was here with me.
It was going to be ok.
“Yeah, let’s go,” I said, snapping on the earmuffs and heading into the shooting stalls. I cocked the gun and aimed straight down, Courtney right behind me, watching me aim the sights at a large poster of an attacking zombie. We thought it would be more exciting.
I shot, the recoil ringing through me and snapping my shoulders back, surprising me with the force. But the adrenaline rush was starting to take over as I realized what I just did. I looked over at my target and saw a bullet hole go straight through the top right corner, far away from any part of the zombie.
But, fuck it felt good.
I raised the gun again and shot off five more rounds, gaining confidence with each new shot. When I was done, I stepped aside and let Courtney raise her gun. It was smaller, a little lighter than mine, and had a light pink grip. She smiled at me, her stunning brown eyes shining through the slightly foggy protective goggles. She focused on the target and shot, her bullet going straight through the zombie’s head on the first try. She shot five more times, hitting the head almost every time.
She looked at me, a little stunned.
“Well… at least I know I’m safe,” I said over the loud gunshots of the other people in the range.
“Holy shit,” she said, laughing a little as she took out the ammo and clicked on the safety, placing the gun back in the safety tray.
I can’t lie. I was more than a little turned on.
We kept shooting for the next half hour or so, Courtney never getting back her headshot streak but still hitting the target with the majority of shots she took. I was a little more of a mixed bag, sometimes getting lucky and hitting an arm here and there, but most of the times, I probably would have been dead.
It wasn’t reassuring.
“Don’t worry, we’ll practice your aim,” she mocked, slapping my chest a little as we walked out of the range, located in the industrial area of downtown Los Angeles, and headed over to my Audi, parked not too far away. I opened her door and walked over to mine, squeezing her thigh just before I threw the car in reverse and headed out.
“It’s weird. Being around guns like that,” I admitted, Courtney putting another reassuring touch on the top of my hand, the one that now rested on her leg.
“Maybe you’re nerves are the reason why you sucked?” she considered innocently, looking up at the roof of the car as though she didn’t take any sort of jab. After a moment, she looked back towards me and cracked up.
“Come on, you have to admit, it’s a little funny,” she said, once again spreading her infectiously good mood over to me. I knew she was joking the whole time, but hearing her laugh just made me feel like everything fell into place. We laughed and laughed.
We were laughing so hard, we barely felt anything when the other car came barreling into us, thrusting us to the side and throwing the car into complete circles, twirling us around like ragdolls.
The air felt toxic. Ripped out of me with the impact. Torn out of Courtney. Both of us confused.
Scared.
Disorientated.
And then my door swung open and I was pulled out by my shoulder, thrown onto the hard, rocky pavement underneath. The gravel cutting little holes into my bare neck. I looked up and saw the one face I hoped to never see again.
Marco.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
“Where’s my fucking sister?!” Marco spat onto my raw cheek, his face inches away from mine, still smashed down onto the gravel. I could barely even process what he was telling me, the shock of it all was crashing over me in waves. I heard Courtney whimper from the passenger door, a little cough crying out for help. Trying to reach out to me. My muscles suddenly began to work again. I pushed myself up off the gravel with a sudden force that even surprised Marco, causing him to jump back a little. I balled up one strong fist and swung as hard as I could, my knuckles smashing into Marco’s cheek bones. He lurched sideways, landing flat on his side, his hand launching up to hold his battered face.
I had no idea where his psycho sister was, but I knew where Courtney was. I ran to the side door and pulled on the handle, but it was jammed. Marco’s car sideswiped us from her side, bending the doorframe and basically locking her in. I saw she wasn’t bleeding, but she was scared.
“Try to climb through to my side!” I yelled through the glass, running over to my open door and reaching in, grabbing her by her shaking, frail hand and pulling her over the armrest and onto the seat. She climbed out and collapsed into my arms, tears soaking through my shirt. I held her as tight as I could, not wanting to let her go even for an instant.
“It’s ok, we’re ok,” I repeated into the top of her head, feeling her still shake in my hold. I kissed the very top of her head, the one I imagined her halo would center around if she had one, and I brought her face up to meet mine. My look helped her feel safe, I could feel that she knew I would take care of her. That’s why I was still holding her when Marco yanked me by the shoulder and knocked us both to the ground this time. I looked up, Courtney gasping as the air was punched out of her lungs, and I saw Marco. His face was a bloody mess, but it was still the same face I knew from my past. The rat-like features with his pointed nose, beady eyes, slightly buck teeth. Except now he was a bleeding rat, with hate in his eyes, and a glint of silver in his hand.
Wait… fuck.
In Marco’s left hand was a long, jagged looking knife that leaned more towards the size of a small sword. He towered above the both of us, framed by the dim streetlamp that hovered above us and cast a sick spotlight on the whole scene. I looked up towards his eyes and held his gaze. I wasn’t pleading. I wasn’t going to plead for my fucking life. I knew that this wasn’t the end. So I stood up, covering Courtney, who was rising up to be behind me. Even with the danger, I felt her grip my hand and shift over to my side. I wanted to push her back, I needed to be blocking her from any threat, but something in her grip told me that she needed to be there.
Marco looked at us both, a wild expression in those pinhole black eyes.
“Where is she? You fucking ratted both of us out, motherfucking shithead!” Marco spat, the knife quivering a little in his grip, as if he were trying really hard to hold back some sort of impulse. One that would have ended us.
I spoke with a stern, confident voice. I needed to gain the power in this situation, “Marco, we both don’t know. Neither did we report anything about your sister. She was a friend to the both of us.”
My voice didn’t shake or quiver. I wasn’t about to give up what little control we could gain from this.
“What do you fucking mean?! She said you ratted her out? She said she fucking loved you, man, and that you fucking betrayed her.” I noticed his hands were a paper-white around the dull black handle of the knife.
“Marco, I’m sorry but your sister interpreted something wrong. I really only knew her for a few days,” I said, hoping I could reason with him. Something about the way he was twitching was telling me that I couldn’t.
“Bullshit, man! She said she kept in touch with you since she was little. All these years, you fucking fuck!”
I felt Courtney’s hand pump mine, a sign of solidarity. We were in this together. What was going to happen was going to be to the both of us.
“I didn’t know,” I said to Marco in all honesty. I really had no idea how crazy Ally had been for me this whole time. It would explain why she was so eager to give me a handjob when all I really needed was a ball of stress taken out of my left shoulder. Of course, I couldn’t complain about the handjob.
But seriously, that bitch was fucking crazy and I didn’t have a clue.
“I call bullshit.” He came closer, his hand was wavering now. It wasn’t twitching but visibly shaking. I knew this was when I had to make my move, if not we were both dead. The bottom of my open palm rocketed up from my side, smashing into an unsuspecting Marco and catapulting his head backwards, launching his body back onto th
e hard ground. His body went limp with the impact, knocking him out cold.
“Holy shit,” Courtney said, her tears now dried up. She still quivered a little but I took her in my arms again, this time we were both feeling safe. I called the cops and they were there in an instant. We thought we had recognized one officer from Courtney’s apartment, but it was just someone else with the same army-styled haircut and piggly face. We then realized we were seeing the cops way too often in way too short of a time period.
After giving our report, we were both allowed home but we didn’t want to risk it. Me and Courtney were going to the hospital, once again. We wanted to make sure neither of us secretly damaged something, only to find out later after we’ve bled out entirely. The night was full of tests and observations, MRIs to make sure we didn’t have anything wrong with our heads.
By the third hour, we were both going pretty loopy, most likely due to the sleep deprivation and stress we had both gone through. I looked at her from my bed, thankfully they were able to get two beds next to each other, and reached out a hand, not unlike something from The Notebook. We both looked at each other and let our hands fall between us, hanging there, intertwined together.
“Dr. Silvers, you really have to stop visiting us so dang often,” Wanda said, wearing her pastel blue nurse scrubs and carrying a tray of apple juice, “here, I snuck these out just for you.”
“Thanks, Wanda,” I said, poking a hole through the top of my apple juice container. As I was puncturing the small juice box, I realized how funny of an image it was. Or at least my sleep-deprived brain thought it was funny. A strong, handsome, tattooed man sipping out of a small plastic container with a smiling apple waving outwards. I drank it anyways, because it was pretty fucking good.
“How you guys feeling?” she asked, a concerned hand resting on my shoulder.
“Good, hanging in there,” I said, smiling at her. She was one of my favorite nurses, always so kind and caring.
Numbed (The White Coat Series) Page 11