by Naomi West
I take as much of him as I can, massaging his balls and sucking up and down the shaft. He lets out animal-like growls, grunting at me. I can tell he likes it. I go faster, massaging his balls quicker and quicker. He lets out another grunt as his come shoots right to the back of my throat. I swallow, ignoring the salty taste. Then I sit back up, body buzzing with the madness of it. Only a few minutes have passed. We’re still in the same stretch of forest.
“You think I’m that easy to win over, eh?”
I zip his pants back up for him, putting on his belt. “There, just like nothing happened at all.” I giggle.
“You’re a madwoman,” he says, but he sounds proud. It’s something like pride, at least. “So that’s how it works, is it? A blowjob means I can’t be pissed off for taking you down here when you oughta be tucked up safe at home?”
“I think so.” I nod seriously. “I think a blowjob means you can never be angry at me again.”
“Does it work the other way? If I go down on you?” He’s smiling.
“I think you know it doesn’t.”
“I reckon one day somebody’s gonna have to sit me down and explain how all this stuff works.”
“That’s impossible. I don’t think anybody knows.”
When we laugh, it’s like the past day didn’t happen. Or that it did, but only the good parts. Only the talking, the jokes. There’s something about being close to Cage that makes me want to try even harder not to be melodramatic. Seeing Dad die right in front of me was the first domino. But Cage is a whole string of them.
“Don’t you ever want to—I don’t know. Pity yourself?”
“What good would it do? Anyway, we came out pretty damn clean, all things considered. Don’t worry.” He smiles at me, his face a patchwork of stiches and Band-Aids. “I’ll be back to lookin’ like Brad Pitt in no time.”
“You’re way handsomer than Brad Pitt,” I say, meaning it.
“Handsomer. Is that a word?”
“Yes, it is a word.”
“Goddamn. By that tone I’m guessing I’m not the first fella to call you out on that. What poor college bastard made that mistake? More important, where the hell did you bury him?”
We laugh. I take some mints from the glovebox.
“You seem pretty damn happy,” he mutters.
“You’re the one laughing.”
He catches my eye. We both pause. It’s a game. Who will laugh first? In the end, we both burst out laughing. It’s like somebody is flooding my body with powerful drugs. I can’t look at him without smiling. It’s impossible.
“I don’t want you to feel weird around me,” I say when we’re almost there. It’s a long drive, but far more comfortable this time around. Physically, at least. “About your brother, I mean. I won’t tell anybody. I promise. And I don’t … I don’t think any different about you. Or anything like that. Okay?”
“All right,” he mutters, nodding. “All right, Scarlett. Yeah, that works.”
He was right about the warehouse. The bikers must’ve worked for hours. The trees that were encroaching have been felled, the land around it burned away. The warehouse is still standing, but the stonework is charred black. All the windows are smashed.
“Gloves and boots,” he says. “Don’t take that peashooter outta the holster unless some real shit goes down. I don’t see what would, though. Hang on.” He takes out his cell phone. “That entrance is sealed off, right? Yeah, yeah. Keep watch. Yeah, all right. Gunner.”
He hangs up and turns to me. “Are you ready for your wild goose chase?”
“I’m ready,” I tell him, ignoring his joke.
He hands me a mask, the type they wear in infection movies. I pull it over my mouth and we head in.
We go over the wreckage together, starting at the top end and slowly working our way down. I can tell Cage thinks this is a waste of time. He doesn’t let it affect the job, though. Once he gets started, he’s just as attentive as me. We fine-tooth-comb the place, giving us plenty of time to talk. But for a while, we don’t say anything. We just sink into the silence. Then a thought niggles at me. I try to ignore it. It’s not the time. I can’t keep bothering him.
But it keeps niggling. Maybe it isn’t the time. But it’s either bring it out into the open or go crazy.
“Cage, am I your old lady now?”
He has his back to me, moving his gloves through the ashy remains of a desk or a chair. He goes still for a moment. Then he continues searching. “I don’t see why you’d want to be.” He tries for a laugh. It sounds forced. “I’m just a piece of shit outlaw the last time I checked. An outlaw with no folks and no home and no education. Why’nt you go’n find some college boy, eh? Some nice college boy who knows long words and won’t make you take his name if you got married. Isn’t that what you ladies like these days?”
“Have you been to college?” I ask.
“No, why?”
“Because you seem to know a lot about it.”
He laughs, realer this time. “Maybe I’m just used to watching people. Or maybe I’ve read too many newspaper articles where it says shit like ‘Jon Brown and his wife Janet Kingsley’ … or some other stupid shit.”
“Cage, are you really angry about women not taking their husbands’ names? Or are you just trying to change the subject?”
“Like I said, I don’t know why you’d wanna be my old lady.”
“Because I …”
I trail off. I was about to tell him that I love him! I’m shocked at myself; shocked at how easy it was just going to come out.
“Because I need to know,” I say instead. “Don’t you think it’s important?”
“Of course it’s important,” he murmurs.
“So?”
“So what?”
I throw my hands up, which is a bad idea. Ash scatters everywhere. It falls like burnt snow.
“So am I your old lady or not?”
He turns to me. His mouth is covered by the mask, but his dark green eyes are full of uncertainty. “I don’t know if I can talk about this, Scarlett. It’s not that I don’t … listen, it’s just hard for me, all right? I don’t wanna be one of those assholes who makes excuses for himself. But that’s just the truth right there. I’ve never had a girl, not really. I’ve never … I don’t know. I care a whole lot about you. That’s the truth as well. I care about you more’n I have any right to, considering you’re a princess and I’m a … well, an outlaw.”
“So you want me to leave?” I say, a little too sharply.
“No,” he says. “I don’t want that.”
“So you don’t want me to leave, but you don’t want to make any sort of commitment to me?”
“I don’t wanna fuck anybody else. I don’t wanna be with anybody else. I’d die to protect you. If that isn’t enough for you right now, I don’t know what the hell we’re talking about.”
I take a step back, stung. But then I look into those dark green eyes. He’s pleading with me to give him time. He just doesn’t have the words. “We’ll talk about this again, right? Promise?”
He lets out a sigh of relief. “We’ll talk about it again. I promise.”
We go back to searching.
We’re just about to call it quits when I find a flash drive wedged down between two floorboards. The fire has burned parts of them away. The drive was most likely well-hidden before the fire.
“Tada!” I leap up with it clutched between forefinger and thumb.
He turns to me with a surprised look on his face. In his eyes, at least. “Well god-fuckin’-damn.”
Neither of us has a laptop with us. Once we’re changed and sitting in the car, Cage looks over at me. “Tell me something. If we made the drive home now, would you be a nervous wreck?”
“How can you tell?” I grab onto the stick like it might spontaneously combust in my hand.
“All right, fuck it.”
He drives us to a nearby town and goes into an electronics store. He comes out with a brand-new laptop und
er his arm. We head to a coffee place and drink out of takeout cups in the car. I boot the laptop up, going through all the installation stuff. Then I put in the flash drive.
“What is it?” Cage asks sometime later.
“Give me a sec,” I mutter.
“Looks like invoices.”
“There are addresses on here, Cage. Addresses to all their businesses. And … look here. Plans, blueprints. Instructions. Give me five minutes.”
About forty-five minutes later, I have worked through a decent chunk of the information. I’ve filtered out useless parts, ignored red herrings, and gotten right down to the point of it all. Its biggest point, anyway.
“And what is it?” Cage asks. “The fuck’s the biggest point?”
“The Bloody Talons are going to rob Steep Rock Bank.”
Cage sits back in his chair. “Oh.”
16
Scarlett
I continue going through the notes as we drive back to Steep Rock. I lean over the laptop, face pressed almost right up against the screen.
“Are they crazy?” I whisper. “They can’t think they’ll get away with it.”
Cage sighs. “I don’t know, Scarlett. They’ve been pretty damn slippery so far. That’s the thing with these bastards. Hatter’s not as stupid as some of the fellas’d like to think.”
“You sound like you respect him,” I comment.
“After what he did to us? After he tied me to that chair? Shit, I don’t respect the bastard. But it’s just a fact. He knows what he’s doing.”
“Well, now you’ve got an advantage over him.”
“Yeah, I guess so.”
“Are you going to warn the police?”
“I don’t know what I’m gonna do. We’ll have to get all the top men together and see what’s what.” I’ve changed out of the clothes I wore at the warehouse. Now I’m wearing shorts and a T-shirt. Cage stares at my legs and the road alternately. I can tell he’s getting worked up.
“Don’t crash us!” I warn.
“Can you blame me?” He reaches over and grabs onto my leg. He grabs it high up, near my pussy. And he grabs it so hard, I can’t help but let out a moan. “You can’t sit there looking like that and not expect me to do somethin’ about it.”
“Looking like what?” I close the laptop, putting it on the backseat. Cage has the flash drive. I tilt my head at him. “Huh? What am I doing that’s driving you so crazy? I’m just sitting here innocently.”
He grinds his hand further up my thigh, pushing my shorts out of the way. “I wanna hear you moan. I wanna feel you come.” He glances up. We’re just about to pass a motel.
I grip onto the door as the car spins around. Tires screech. An oncoming car beeps its horn loudly. Cage just laughs as he pulls into the motel’s parking lot.
“Wait here,” he growls, leaping from the car.
I watch him walk toward the main office. He has such confidence. I can see that even in his gait. Maybe it’s a strange thing to notice, but so many of the boys in college walked like they were scared the world would suddenly swallow them. Cage walks like he’s ready to swallow the world.
He returns holding a room key. He locks up the car and puts the laptop under his arm.
“Are we going somewhere?” I say, smiling at him.
The smile seems to drive him even crazier. His hands are shaking. “Yeah, we are. Follow me.”
“So bossy.”
“Are you complaining?” he grunts.
He takes me to the room right at the end, which must be the best room in the place. It’s not a fancy motel, but this is a fancy-ish room. There’s a flat-screen TV and an en-suite and even a separate little hallway area so the door doesn’t open right onto the lot. I’ve barely taken a few steps when he’s on me.
He jumps at my back, wrapping his arms around me. He pulls me into him. I bend forward, pushing back with my ass. It feels so good to grind against him, to feel the rough denim against the thin fabric of my shorts. Denim crushes into shorts, which in turn crushes into panties, which in turn … My clit throbs with the movements, rough and strong. He grabs my thighs, twisting his hand.
“Oh,” I moan. In pain and pleasure. With the roughness of it. The urgency of it. Wanting Cage is a sweet feeling. Cage wanting me is even sweeter.
“Bend over more,” he tells me. “Put your hands on the edge of the bed.”
“Yes, sir!” I giggle playfully.
“You’ve got no damn idea how crazy you make me,” he whispers. He moves his hands over my ass and then pulls down my shorts. He slides his hands up my inner thighs to my panties. I shiver with the movements. He’s teasing me. He gets right up near my panties and then goes back down my legs.
I shake my ass at him urgently. My clit aches hungrily for his touch. My pussy is already so wet.
“Tell me how bad you want it,” he snarls.
I shift my ass even more, almost twerking for him! Not that I know how to twerk!
“I want it!” I moan. “Cage, Cage, Cage …”
He keeps teasing me. For several amazing, dreadful minutes he trails his callused fingers up and down my thighs. By the time he finally pulls down my panties, I am so wet I can feel it dripping down my thigh. He falls to his knees, grabbing my ass cheeks. He pulls them apart and pushes his face forward, right against my pussy. He licks viciously. He licks so fast, thought scatters from my head.
I stick my ass out even more, pushing all of me against him. He grips my ass even harder. He spanks me as he licks. I moan with each spank. The stinging pleasure warms me like a long-awaited bath. I move up and down, crushing my pussy against his tongue. He finds my clit. Pulls my pussy wide with his hands. Exposes it, making it vulnerable. And then he attacks it. He licks quicker and quicker, so quick it’s all I can do to stay on my feet. I have to grip the bedsheets just to stop from falling.
“Are you close?” he growls, voice muffled.
“Yes, baby, yes, yes …”
He suddenly stands up. I wheel on him. He has a cocky grin on his face.
“You’re a monster!” I declare.
“Am I?” He pushes me onto the bed. Not hard, but hard enough that I couldn’t stay on my feet even if I wanted to. “Then why do you look so horny, eh?”
“I don’t!” But I lie on my back and open my legs, posing for him.
He undresses mechanically, eyes locked on me. His cock points almost straight up. It looks ready to burst, bulging massively. He stalks toward me slowly, as though getting ready to pounce. I get myself ready to be pounced upon. He stops just short.
“Take off your top,” he commands.
I quick get naked for him, unclipping my bra and throwing it all onto the floor. At last he climbs onto the bed, leaning over me. Just touching his broad back drives me crazy, I’m so horny. My pussy is red-hot now, screaming for him. I tear my fingernails down his back when he presses the tip of his cock against my clit.
“Goddamn, Scarlett,” he whispers. His eyes are locked on mine. I resist the urge to look away. Eye contact during sex is always awkward. But not with Cage. I stare right back at him, loving the hunger I see in his face. “Goddamn.”
“Fuck me,” I whisper. “Cage, Cage, fuck me.”
He grins again. “Yes, ma’am.”
I giggle for half a moment. It’s interrupted by a series of moans, escaping my lips as though I have no control of them. He slides his huge cock right up inside of me, straight to my sweet spot. There is no discomfort, no fumbling. My pussy is ready for him. I wrap my legs around him and sit down, hard. I am trapped under his huge body, his chest muscles grazing against my breasts. My nipples go hard, and then super hard. Each brush of his rock-like chest sends more and more electricity surging around me until my whole body is abuzz. Everything burns.
He holds his cock deep inside of me for a moment.
“Fuck,” he whispers.
I kiss him. He kisses me back. Once the kiss breaks off, he fucks me for real. He slides out fast and then
slides in even faster. The feeling is so powerful, I’m sure I’ll fall. I don’t know where I think I’m going to fall. Only that I feel as though I’m balancing, and any second, I could drop. He props his hands near my head. I grab onto his arms, the muscles bursting out of his skin. He slides his cock deep inside of me, then out of me again. I sit down with more force each time until we’re fucking so hard the bed is squeaking.
I try to be quiet at first. We’re in a motel room, after all. But soon it becomes too difficult. I let out screaming moans, digging my hands into his arms until I almost draw blood.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he growls. He leans up. “Play with those goddamn tits, Scarlett. Fuckin’ pinch those nipples for me.”
I’m glad to. I push my breasts together and then slide my hands down them. I pinch my nipples and pull on them. But it’s not the feeling that drives me closer to orgasm. It’s the look on his face. I arch my body for him, pushing my breasts out even more. Sweat cakes us both, dripping from his chest onto my body. I don’t care. I like it. He fucks me so fast he becomes a blur. Everything becomes a blur. It’s like I’m holding onto my nipples for purchase. I don’t care if they sting. My pussy stings much more. My sweet spot stings like it’s inflamed.
“Oh my …” I bite down. I open my mouth. The scream is like a banshee’s, coming from deep down in my belly. He thrusts into me with so much power, I shift back on the bed. He follows me, keeping his cock in me the whole time. “Oh, oh …”
“Fuck,” he growls. “Fuck, Scarlett.”
“Cage, Cage, oh, Cage.”
I close my legs tighter, trapping his cock. I interlock my ankles, trapping him. Then I let go of my nipples and grab his face, feeling the light dusting of beard there. I lean up, kissing him. But kissing is difficult right now. Our teeth smash together. Our lips push clumsily into each other. I don’t care. My belly is a mass of electric eels and flickering flame and pure, harsh pressure.
I fall back onto the bed when the orgasm hits me. And it does hit me. Like a shotgun.
I twitch and writhe and moan so loudly it’s a wonder the motel room doesn’t just fall down. He looks into my eyes as I come, as though fascinated. The bedsheets stick to my back. Everything is hot, steamy, close. I feel like I am wrapped in Cage. Not in his arms, not even in his body. All of him, wrapping around me. He’s a blanket. I pull him tighter, my pussy pulsating as wave upon wave crashes out of me. He fucks me even harder, a feat I didn’t think possible.