Afraid to Fly (Fearless #2)

by S. L. Jennings

  One day, it would work. One day the only connotation attached to sex would be pleasure. And that feeling would last beyond the initial act. It wouldn’t dissipate the moment my lover for the evening left my bed, leaving me in the cold darkness of my own thoughts. At least that’s what I was counting on.

  Even on the off chance that my memory failed, there was no way Raven could have forgotten me.

  Let me just put it out there: I’m un-fucking-forgettable. And that’s not an issue of opinion. It’s a goddamn fact.

  I had been with a lot of women. A lot. And during that time, I had learned and perfected the art of making love, which was precisely what these women felt with me—loved. Worshipped. Appreciated. I didn’t just fuck, nut and run. I took my time to ensure that each and every woman who had the privilege of gracing my bed and consuming my time enjoyed herself to the fullest. It was only fair for the service of distraction that they provided me.

  So, yeah. Raven would have remembered me. And that wasn’t me being arrogant. It was me being honest.

  “Ok,” Amber drawled after a few seconds of tense silence. I knew what she was thinking, but before she could voice her concerns, one of the staff members summoned her from the other side of the door, informing her of a phone call.

  Once we were left to our own devices, I turned on my most amenably professional smile and climbed to my feet, my hand outstretched. “Good to formally meet you, Ms. West.”

  She looked down at my hand, but refused to take it, much like her little brother. “I’m sure. And call me Raven.”

  I nodded, resisting the urge to turn on the charm and woo her panties off. All hope wasn’t lost. She may have been glaring at me like I had just skeet-skeeted all over her favorite shirt, but she had offered her first name. People who truly despise you don’t give a damn about being on a first name basis.

  I pulled my hand back and stuffed it into my pocket casually, like that had been my intention all along. “Nice to meet you, Raven.” I made sure to emphasize the V and the N, letting those two letters rest on my tongue for a second longer than necessary. She could hear it too, and cut her eyes into slits in response.

  “Come on, Toby. Let’s get out of here,” she said, turning her attention to her little brother.

  With that, the small, quiet boy picked up his book bag and joined his sister at her side. I was positive this would be our last meeting. Whatever beef this girl had with me, surely she would not allow her brother to be subjected to it. And while I would never act unprofessionally in front of a child, I could understand. If she wasn’t comfortable with me, there was no way she could be comfortable with me being alone with Toby. So there would probably be some lame excuse as to why he wouldn’t be returning to the program, which really was a shame in regards to his social and academic success.

  “Well, Toby, it was great hanging out today. You come by and see me anytime, ok?” I wanted him to know that I was here, and my door was always open. Even if he didn’t care, I needed him to know that I did.

  Judging by the smug smile on her face, Raven must’ve suspected that Toby didn’t enjoy his time at HH. But what he did next left her stunned one second, and damn near furious the next.

  Toby picked up the pen and pad I had left for him on the side table, scribbled a few words and set down the paper before walking out of the office.

  I was still grinning when Raven whirled around to follow him without uttering a word. I’d been given another chance to see them again.

  BY FIVE-THIRTY, I WAS out my office door and on my way home.

  By six, my head was pounding and my dick was aching.

  By eight, I was balls deep in the warm, soft, wet confines of my favorite mode of escape.

  Tonight, it was Alyssa. Twenty-six. Duke alumna. Kindergarten teacher.

  Alyssa was a relatively new face at Dive, my favorite watering hole, and the first stop in my after work routine. Now that Kami was pregnant, and there was no way Blaine was letting her tend bar while his seed grew inside her, she had been coming up with new ideas to expand clientele. One of them was a Happy Hour menu, featuring some fruity mixed drinks, $2 shooters and some cheap eats. It was a hit out the gate, and now Dive was attracting some new patrons, many of them hot, professional women.

  Did I mention how fucking fantastic my BFF is?

  Alyssa had been in a few times with a couple girlfriends. She always ordered some ridiculously sweet libation with extra cherries. They’d hang out for a couple hours, order appetizers, giggle about their day and leave. She was never accompanied by a man, and there wasn’t ring on her finger.

  Those variables, coupled with the fact that she was hot in a sexy librarian type of way, put her on my radar.

  I watched from my usual spot at the bar between chatting with Blaine and listening to CJ’s latest misadventures in dating.

  “So let me paint this picture for you,” he began, loosening his tie. It was hard to believe that CJ, aka Craig Jacobs, was one of Charlotte’s most respected contractors. Apparently, Blaine helped him out with some of his startup costs for his business a few years back, but CJ had turned his dream into a reality all on his own. He was a solid businessman, yet a hopeless barbarian. “I’m sitting at a stoplight, when I turn to see this chick at the bus stop beside me. She’s standing there in her basic bitch uniform—UGGs, leggings, and some American Apparel hoodie, sippin’ on Starbucks. I would bet my left nut the music blasting in her earbuds was Taylor Swift, but that’s beside the point. So I’m lookin’ at her, and she’s lookin’ at me, and it was like we had this psychic connection. Like some fucking telepathic conversation where we didn’t even need to use words. I was all “Get in” and she was all “Sure.” Dude, it was totally some Jedi Mind Trick shit.”

  “Jedi Mind Trick shit?” I laughed. Only CJ.

  “Fucking serious. So she gets in, doesn’t say a word, and I drive us to the closest motel. Get a room and, well, you know what happens next.”

  Blaine made a tsking sound and shook his head. “Please tell me you didn’t.”

  “You know I did! I blew her back out! And the only time she made a peep was when she was screaming out for God to come save her from my mighty anaconda!”

  Blaine groaned while I doubled over in laughter. CJ was as simple-minded as a box of rocks, but he was always good for a story.

  “You do realize there are such things as STD’s and unplanned pregnancies, right? Like, you’ve got to know that you’re pretty much playing Russian Roulette with your dick.” Blaine raised his brow at his cousin and cringed at the word “dick.”

  “Aw, cuz, I didn’t know you cared. Of course, I know that. That’s why on the 8th day, God said, “Let there be Trojans!” And little rubbers fell from the sky in a majestic sheet of latex rain.”

  That shut Blaine up, as he was too busy busting a gut, a tattooed hand covering his mouth.

  “You know those aren’t 100%, right?” I asked between sucking in gulps of laugh-strangled oxygen.

  “What? Bull. Shit.”

  “No, seriously. I think it’s 98% or something like that. And considering the breeds you pick up, you might need to double up before you catch fleas.”

  I swear, I witnessed every drop of blood drain from CJ’s face in about 3.2 seconds. “Excuse me,” he muttered before jetting off to the men’s room. Blaine and I cracked up even harder than before.

  “That was cold, man,” he said, popping the top of another beer and setting it in front of me. On top of being a solidly decent guy, he was a good bartender. Especially since I drank and ate here just about every day for the super low price of free. So yeah . . . another reason why I couldn’t hate the guy. He was maddeningly unhateable.

  “Well, better he learn that now instead of the hard way. Shit, could you imagine if he got some chick knocked up? CJ? A dad? I wouldn’t trust him with a cactus, let alone a kid.”

  Blaine nodded his agreement before drifting over to the other side of the bar to take an order. When he returned
, mixing up some type of cocktail that required melon vodka, Midori and a lollipop, I figured I better just come clean with the real intent behind my visit. You know, besides the free beer.

  “I had lunch with Kam today,” I mentioned casually.

  “Oh yeah?” Pour, shake, stir.

  “Yeah. She said something about your ex being in town?” I knew I was dead wrong to get involved in their private business, and Kam would probably have my head for betraying her confidence, but I had to know where she stood in all this. I had to know that she was safe, her heart and that precious unborn baby protected. And while I knew that Blaine had been good to her up to this point, an ex-wife could easily change all that.

  Blaine looked up from the drink he was making but didn’t say a word until he slid it over to the waiting customer. He let the other bartender on duty handle the next few drinks and came to stand right in front of me, leveling his knowing stare at me.

  “Yes, she is. And no, nothing has changed. I love Kami, and I love our baby. And Amanda remains exactly where she was—in the past. Kam and our child are my future. Good enough for you?”

  “Whoa.” I held up both hands in mock surrender, taken aback by his brusque tone. Blaine was one of the coolest, most level-headed guys I’d ever met. But right now, he looked as if he wanted to knock my teeth out. “Look, I’m just looking out for my friend. If she’s uncomfortable with a situation, then it is my duty to ensure she’s ok.”

  “Actually, no it’s not. It’s my duty to protect her. You should both know I would never do anything to hurt her. After what happened last year . . .” He cringed at the memory of finding Kami beaten and bloody on the floor of our once-shared apartment. The image still haunted my thoughts daily and always would. You just don’t forget the vision of the most precious part of you dying on the ground with a monster hovering over her naked body, lusting over all the ways to defile her. “I can’t fathom the thought of her ever experiencing an ounce of pain. I get what you’re doing, and I appreciate that you’re her best friend, but please . . . let me be her man. Have some faith that I can love her the way that she deserves to be loved.”

  At that, I couldn’t argue a damn thing. He was right. I was overstepping, and I needed to back off. I was man enough to admit it too. “My bad. I guess old habits die hard. We good?” I extended a fist, and waited for him to bump it.

  “Yeah,” he said, after letting me sit there and stew for a good half minute. “We’re good. You’re lucky Kam loves you so much. I might have had to toss out the fish tacos Mr. Bradley saved for you.”

  I could have kissed him right then and there. “Please tell me you aren’t just playing with my emotions.”

  “Naw. Kam insisted after she stopped by after you two had lunch. She told me what you said, and we talked. Thanks for that, by the way.”

  “I guess we’re even,” I shrugged.

  We had easily shifted back into casual chatter, when Alyssa walked in with two of her girlfriends, minutes later. She wore simple slacks and a lavender, lightweight sweater. Her hair was pulled into a loose bun that only brought my naughty schoolteacher fantasy to life even more. She didn’t wear much makeup, which made my mind shift to Raven.

  Raven West. Where the fuck did you come from, and why the fuck are you invading my thoughts?

  I shook it off. Even if she hadn’t given me the Elsa treatment and been a cold bitch, she was now officially off limits. Dealing with a student’s guardian was just messy, and I actually wanted to help Toby if he’d let me. I couldn’t do that by helping myself to his sister.

  So tonight’s distraction would be Alyssa. She would do just fine.

  It took little persuasion to get her to come home with me. And hardly any effort to get her naked on my bed. Turns out, Alyssa was a horny little thing, and not above picking up guys in bars, although she’d insisted she had “never done this sorta thing before.”

  Riiight. Because she always wore crotchless panties for a roomful of 5-year-olds.

  Just as I had predicted, Alyssa was a freak. I barely had my pants undone before she dropped to her knees and wrapped her lips around my dick. I tried to slow her down—early release was not part of the game plan—but she was just so hungry for it. She made the greediest little noises whenever I hit the back of her throat, which was often. Apparently, gagging wasn’t an issue for her, and that was definitely a plus.

  I stopped her with a gentle hand on the back of her head and eased out of her mouth with a loud pop. She looked disappointed at first, but then I helped her to her feet and kissed her swollen lips, stroking her tongue slowly with mine to show her the rhythm I preferred. Rushing would only make our time go by faster, and I desperately needed her to fill the emptiness just a little while longer.

  She grasped my shoulders as I kneaded her back while walking her backwards towards the bed. My lips never left hers, and I never stopped touching her. If I did, it would all come rushing back. The memories would creep in and steal me from this moment, sending me into a fit of tremors so bad that I wouldn’t be able to do more than curl up in a corner and cry. That had only happened twice before I realized what was happening. I had allowed myself to think about what I was doing, instead of just letting my body focus on physical pleasure. Sex was like a soothing balm to the remembrance of pain. Pain, shame, disgust, humiliation. It helped to quiet them all.

  Without warning, she spun around in my arms and kneeled on the bed on all fours, hiking her ass in the air. “Come on, you naughty boy. I want it hard. Make me hurt. Make me scream. Tonight, I want you to fill both my tight, little holes.”

  I nearly vomited on her and her tight, little holes.

  I took a moment to regain my composure, closing my eyes and inhaling through my nose and exhaling out of my mouth for a count of ten. Kami had helped me with some breathing techniques. It helped to tame the rising bile that was singeing my throat.

  “Can you turn over?” I managed to ask, my eyes still closed. I could almost imagine her confused expression as she shuffled onto her back. Shit, I didn’t want to embarrass her, but I also didn’t want to explain why that position was off limits. Just the sight of it . . . it was too much to even imagine.

  When I reopened my eyes, she was indeed on her back, but her legs were fused together. Still, she was here, and that meant she wanted me. Being wanted was what I lived for. The feeling of being desired and needed, even if it was superficially, had become a necessity for me.

  I approached her slowly, letting my eyes take in her soft, feminine curves. That’s what I loved the most about women—their softness, their delicateness. It made them appear breakable, just like me. And it made me appreciate that vulnerability, in hopes that someone could—and would—one day, appreciate mine.

  That’s why even though I never offered more than a few hours of toe-curling pleasure, I assured each second was spent tending to their sexual desires and making them feel treasured. Just because I was a whore, it didn’t make me callous or uncaring. If anything, it made me more aware of my humanity.

  I pushed it all away, trading my own hang-ups and idiosyncrasies for the mental numbness that sex could provide and did what I do best: Fuck. I was good at this part—touching, kissing, licking. And when we were both ready—too ravenous with desire to consider my aversions—I drove into her slowly, all the way to the hilt. Until her body completely covered mine and soothed the ache of loneliness with wet warmth. This was the feeling I had been chasing since I was just a child, barely a man. That sweet oblivion that only mindless sex could provide. I was made whole by emptying myself into another, and for the barest of moments, I became separate from my pain and anger. I became the type of man that could look himself in the mirror and not see the horror of his past standing behind him, its razor sharp claws cutting into the skin of his shoulders while it smiled in that sinister way that still made my skin crawl.

  I had seen that malevolence in my dreams every day since as long as I could remember. Sometimes it was in the form o
f a smile, a laugh. Sometimes it wore the face of ecstasy and passion. But it was always terrifying.

  I lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling long after Alyssa had passed out in blissful exhaustion. She came twice, once by my tongue, the other with her ankles on my shoulders. She was a screamer, and I kept wondering if Angel would bust in here, wondering if I was fucking or killing the girl. Then, if Alyssa was up for it, she’d join, like she had just this past weekend with Cherri. It wasn’t that we wanted each other in that way—oh hell no. We were just better . . . together. It made it even easier to get out of our heads and lost in the movement of our bodies.

  It was co-dependent like a motherfucker. And unhealthy. And unconventional. But it was all we knew.

  I looked over at Alyssa who was sleeping soundly on her stomach. I had hoped she would be gone by now, being a teacher and all that jazz. But after orgasm #2, I swear she blacked out.

  My eyes roamed the milky, soft expanse of her body, drifting over her slight hips and the petite roundness of her backside. I reached over to graze her skin, soaking in her warmth like a leech. God, how I wished this could be enough. I even wished she could be enough, or someone like her. Someone sweet and kind and gentle. Someone that didn’t know about the ugly scars I bore deep inside me. The ones that had been left by wounds so deep and wide that no amount of intimacy could fill it.

  I climbed out of bed and picked up a pair of pajama bottoms from the floor. My room was a mess, as always, but even more so since Kami had moved out. She would have had a fit if she could see it now—littered with dirty clothes, half-empty beer bottles and wine glasses, and condom wrappers. I knew it was disgusting, but it was hard for me to care when the women I slept with didn’t care either.