Revved: A Singer's Garage Novel

by Helene Laval

  But Mrs. Hadden loved the old Victorian. She was outside all summer planting the flower boxes around the massive porch, which she was always sweeping and keeping tidy. She even liked to shovel snow, no matter how many times I told her I’d help. Every storm last winter was a race to see who could get to the walkway first, and it was usually her because nobody in their right mind woke as early as that woman. I lost again today as I trampled through the neatly carved path around the side of the house to where my apartment was.

  Because of Mrs. Hadden’s generosity, I had a fully furnished apartment with a beat-up brown sofa, a coffee table and a small two seater dinette that fit comfortably in the kitchen space. I had the basic kitchen essentials, but I didn’t cook much. Soup and sandwiches, microwavable shit, that sort of thing.

  Truth was, I was living a pretty lonely existence. I worked, I went home. I had a small television, but never bothered to get cable. Jesse bought me a little internet box for my television last year, so now I was able to stream into the set rather than my phone, which I guess drove him crazy to watch.

  I went out with my work crew on the weekends. Sometimes I’d pick up a pretty girl, but I always ended up alone at the end of the night. I was drifting, and until yesterday, I was unsure where I was headed.

  At that thought, there was a soft knock at the door. “Shit.” I immediately thought of Hector. I did not want to deal with it. But, I knew this game. I had to get it over with. I steeled myself and forcefully pulled the door open, only to find Annie staring up at me.

  “Hi,” she said hiking up a large duffel on her shoulder like she was packing off to the military.

  I stared at her dumbly trying to switch gears. I was ready for a confrontation, but my girlfriend was standing there instead. Wait, girlfriend? Yeah, I liked that.

  “Hi back.” I blinked and opened the door fully. “Come on in.” I stepped out of the way to let her through.

  She walked right in and dropped the huge bag on the floor. As she turned around, I already caught her around the waist, so we were face to face.

  “I’m sorry, I wasn’t expecting you. Let’s start over.” And I pulled her in for a kiss. God she tasted so good, like strawberries and cake. “How did you get here? You don’t have your truck.”

  “Rina dropped me off. She stopped by the bar and asked if I needed anything. I didn’t even know where you lived.”

  “That explains the strawberries and cake,” I said smiling.

  She blushed and wiped at her mouth. “Yeah, you know Rina, always wanting somebody to try some new pastry of hers.”

  “I’m happy to see you, Tinker Bell.” I eyed her duffel bag. “You really missed me didn’t you?” I raised my eyebrows and smirked.

  “About this.” She indicated the bag. “I have a favor to ask,” she said ducking her head and biting her lower lip.

  Fuck, she was sexy. I was already forming dirty thoughts.

  She told me about the bodyguard guy, Justin, and this crazy shit her dad was up too. I felt for the guy, but I was skeptical.

  “So you just gave him your apartment?” I asked loudly.

  “It’s an office,” she defended.

  “Your office then, whatever. The guy comes out of nowhere and not only do you give him a job, but you give him a place to stay? The place where you stay?”

  “I feel responsible for him. I don’t know, the thought entered my head and flew out of my mouth.” She ran a hand through her short blonde hair.

  It was sexy as hell, and my dick stirred.

  “You should’ve seen him. He’s a good honest guy who my father is trying to take advantage of. And it’s all because of me. All because I pulled out that stupid shotgun. I have to make it right.”

  “And what do you think your dad will say about that?”

  “He doesn’t need to know Justin is sleeping in the bar, and I plan on talking to my dad to send him back home to his family. His family, Steve. He has a baby.”

  “Okay, I get it, I do, and I trust your judgement. It’ll work out.”

  She sat down on the sofa and looked around my tiny apartment. “So, um, can I stay here for the week? I’m sure I can get Justin out of it, but I can’t talk to my dad until Sunday.”

  “Of course, you can stay here. It’s not much, but you’re welcome to anything here.” I gestured around.

  “Do you have to be back to work tonight? I can take you,” I added. I could see the guilt that was written all over her face. She was a good person, my Annie.

  “Yeah, I should stop by. I threw the guy behind the bar, and Jimmy is in the kitchen.”

  “Jimmy? The barback kid? What the hell happened when we were away?”

  “Turns out he’s a hell of a cook,” she said, smiling and shrugging a shoulder.

  I took Annie into the bedroom and emptied out a couple dresser drawers for her to put her stuff inside. I lived out of a bag several times in my life. It sucks. Drawers were better, so I made sure she had a few.

  “Here you go.” I indicated the now emptied space. “Do you need more?”

  “This is perfect, thank you,” she said unzipping her duffle.

  When she finished putting her things in, I asked, “So you want a tour of Casa de Esteban?”

  “Esteban?”

  “Shoot, I didn’t mean to say that, just the Spanish started rolling out and so did my name.”

  “Is that your real name? Esteban Vega?”

  “It is the name my mother gave me.”

  “I like it.”

  “You do?”

  “Mmmmm hmmmm.” She pushed up on her toes and kissed me softly.

  My dick stirred, and I lingered over her as she dropped back down. I wanted more.

  “Ok, give me the tour.” Annie grinned up at me and turned to look around.

  The tour took ten seconds. She smiled and nodded. “It’s cute. Could use a woman’s touch, especially considering this incredible old house. How did you get so lucky?” she said looking around the tiny living space.

  “Come on, you know how charming I am. One look at me and Mrs. Hadden gave me all the furniture and said I could move in that day.”

  “Ow!” I faked pain when she punched me in the shoulder.

  “You’re too full of yourself, you know that?”

  “Would you like to be full of me too?”

  “Oh yes. Yes I would,” she replied with a glint in her eye and licked her lips.

  I liked flirty Annie, and so did my cock.

  “Take two steps back.” I was ready to play.

  She didn’t move.

  “Do it,” I demanded.

  She grinned, and very slowly did so.

  “Take off your clothes,” I said, trying not to sound like an animal, because that’s sure as hell what I felt like. An animal, reacting to my most basic desires.

  “No.” She raised her chin in challenge.

  “No?” I raised an eyebrow.

  “No.” she grinned slightly.

  I could play this game. I was really good at this game. I took off my shirt and looked at her. Her eyes roamed over my bare torso, and she licked her lips in anticipation. I smirked at her and started unbuttoning my jeans. “Okay then, let’s play.” I didn’t make a show of it, I just took them off, along with my socks and stood before her, heaving slightly, watching her watch me as I stood six feet away, completely naked.

  I was getting hard, but not all the way there. I grabbed my cock and started stroking it slowly, letting her see my erection grow to its full length. She stood stock still for a moment when she realized what I intended to do, and a hand unconsciously rubbed at her collarbone.

  “Would you like a seat? So you can watch?” I nudged my chin toward the sofa.

  “I don’t want to just watch,” she said on a soft exhale.

  “Well, you can’t do anything but watch with your clothes on, can you?” I said, still stroking myself for her. I loved watching her watch me.

  “Fuck you, Vega.” She swallowe
d, her eyes focused on my hand.

  “That’s the idea, Tinker Bell.” I continued to stroke and pull myself. A small wet bead of moisture formed on my tip, and she wet her lips with her tongue.

  “Well?” I asked. I know I sounded cocky and in control, but I was about three seconds from losing my shit. I wanted her so badly, and she was staring at me like I was her favorite dessert.

  “I’m not going to sit.” And she started taking her clothes off, slowly, sensually. My grip grew tight when she shimmied her tight jeans over her hips and dropped them on the floor, and she turned around to show me the sexy little thong that barely covered anything at all. She reached around and unclasped her bra and let it fall. The nearly bare view from behind was stunning. And then she did something that was nearly my undoing. She widened her stance and bent over, legs completely straight, hands flat on the floor, raising her ass high in the air.

  “Annie,” I said in a warning growl.

  “Yes, Steve?” she said in return. “Thought I’d work on my yoga, for a bit.”

  “If you stay like that, I’m going to do things to you. Dirty, sexy things.”

  “Ummmm hmmmm,” she said, still in that hot as fuck position, leaning her body forward and back as if she was stretching.

  Fuck. She’s better at this game than me. I was going to lose, and I didn’t give a fuck.

  I stalked up behind her and placed my hand atop the swell of that sweet ass of hers. My other hand followed the thin fabric of the thong down her crack where they found the moist wet heat at her core. Pushing the thong aside, I slipped a finger, then two, into her. She was so wet already, she clenched tight around me, and her knees buckled.

  “Don’t you dare,” I said to her. She straightened back up and my fingers pushed deeper inside her.

  “Oh God,” she said and started to rise. I wrapped an arm around her middle, lifted her torso and spun her toward the back of the sofa. She caught herself, hands on the frame, panting and waiting for me. “Stay right there.”

  “Steve?”

  “Mmmm?” I answered as I stepped back and reached for my jeans on the floor to retrieve a condom.

  I returned, slipping a finger back into her warm heat, stroking, playing. She was so hot and ready, moisture dripped down my fingers. I rolled the condom on and then pushed my cock into her. She let out a deep long moan and pushed back hard against me, allowing me to sheathe myself fully. She was so warm and tight, I completely lost control.

  “I’m going to fuck you so hard, Tinker Bell,” I said, thrusting forcefully in and out. I saw her fists clench the sofa cushions, an incoherent noise escaping her lips.

  “More!” she cried out, and I complied.

  I was furious and delirious with pleasure. I wanted nothing more to claim her as mine. I reached around her front to her clit and started rotating my fingers around the tight nub. I felt her sex start to clench, and she screamed my name as she orgasmed. It was too much, and I felt my balls tighten and ache. Pleasure erupted throughout my body, emptying into hers.

  We both collapsed over the sofa, my head next to her. I kissed along her jaw and then over to the back of her neck. I couldn’t get enough; I couldn’t get close enough.

  “That was nice,” Annie said, slurring her words.

  “You are mine now, Tinker Bell. I hope you’re ready.”

  20

  Annie

  I’ve dated little and have had even fewer sexual experiences—none of either memorable. I don’t know what it was about Steve that made me so bold and uninhibited, but there it was. Even though I’ve watched him whore himself in my own bar, he wasn’t a game player. I definitely did not play games, so having somebody like Steve just lay it all out there made me feel safe.

  I do, however, read my fair share of romance novels. I like the quiet of an empty room and a good book, especially after spending most nights in a noisy bar. Reading is an escape, and romance novels are my potato chips. Some people binge on reality tv or cooking shows. I binge on romance. Apparently they’re instruction manuals for fantastic sex too, provided you have the right kind of man. I definitely had the right kind of man.

  I don’t know if I was exploding on post-coital hormones, or what, but Steve was right. I was his.

  During my teenage years, my father threatened every single person that looked at me wrong. When I was seventeen, a new kid named Brayden White moved to Song. He liked me. I liked him. He didn’t know anything about my father, or the MC. I tried with all my might to keep it that way.

  I pretended to be just like all of the other kids in school. Being social and sneaking kisses in the hall, like teenage romancers do. When other kids told Brayden to stay away from me, he brushed them off because I told him they were being stupid and were jealous I got him first.

  My dad found us one night parked in Brayden’s car behind the laundromat. We’d just had sex, me for the first time. It was clumsy and hurried, but he was sweet and kind and gentle. When my dad found us, half clothed and snuggling in the backseat, he pulled Brayden out of the car by his feet and dragged him across the parking lot while I followed yelling and crying at him to stop. He took a tire iron to Brayden’s car and smashed the hell out of that too. He told Brayden if he ever told anybody what happened, he’d kill everybody in his family. My dad made an example of Brayden, to let me know what happened to boys that took advantage of me. Brayden never did tell anybody, nor did he ever look at me again.

  Kids talked though and once again I found myself a pariah. When I walked down the halls at school, kids moved out of the way, like I was a bomb.

  So, I spent all my evenings at the bar, helping in the kitchen, running cases of beer, changing the taps in the basement. When I turned eighteen, I started waiting tables and bartending. When I turned nineteen, Dad was in jail, and it was up to me to keep the place afloat.

  Steve was the first person who knew who I was and dared get close, even though it had been five years since Dad went to prison. Even though I was a grown woman. But those early lessons lingered. I was afraid for a long time, but it was time I wasn’t afraid anymore. Steve made me feel happy, and safe. I trusted him, and my dad would just have to deal with it.

  My rumbling stomach shook me out of my thoughts, and I asked, “I’m starved. Got any food in this place?”

  “Let me make you my specialty. Sit right here.” Steve grinned and pulled out a seat for me at the small three-seat dinette. I watched him grab some pots and pans. The clanging of cabinets opening and closing made me wonder if the man actually knew what he was doing.

  “Are you sure you’re okay with me staying here?” I asked, thumbing through a mail advertisement.

  “Oh, yeah,” Steve said. I didn’t miss that sensual tone in his voice. “I’m not too sure about having some guy you don’t know staying at your bar though. You’re protective of that place.”

  It was true, I was crazy protective. Why did I just hand over my living space to some random stranger? In my bar?

  “Maybe it had something to do with being away and stranded for a full day,” I mused. “Everything went on without me, and it was fine. I used to think if I was away for one minute, I’d lose everything and be out on the streets with nowhere and nobody to go to.”

  “Your dad would never let that happen.”

  I harrumphed. “My dad left me with a mound of debt. People think he cares about me. Maybe he does. Wait, that’s not fair, I know he does. The problem is, he thinks he owns me, and nobody can mess with what Big Joe owns.” I thought briefly of who my dad was when I was young, and he’d stay with us over in Nyx. “He really did love my mom, though.”

  The skillet sizzled and a heavenly aroma filled the kitchen. Steve turned around from the stovetop and knelt in front of me, caressing my cheek with one hand, while the other still held the spatula. “Annie, you have friends and people that care about you. I care about you. You have options.” He gave me a quick, but sensual kiss. Instant heat gathered low in my belly, and my nipples tigh
tened. “Plus, you’ve got a big ass shotgun to threaten people with,” he said, a huge grin spreading across his beautiful face.

  He was right. “Maybe I’m starting to see that. Not the shotgun part. I really hate having that thing around. But, maybe I’m ready to take some chances, and live a little.” I shrugged.

  Steve patted my thighs as he rose and turned back to the stove. “Just a sec.”

  In a flourish he was back.

  “Voila!” he said as he plopped down a plate in front of me.

  “Grilled cheese!” I clapped my hands in delight. I loved grilled cheese.

  Steve returned with a bowl and set that down too. “And tomato soup. An all-American meal right there.” He pointed to his cuisine.

  “This is perfect, thank you!” I took a bite and moaned. “This is really good!” It was perfect. The man could make a damn fine grilled cheese sandwich.

  “The trick is to never, under any circumstances, crush the bread with the spatula. People think it’ll make it grill better, but this is not true. It just denses up the bread. You want a light crispy outer layer and a soft chewy inner for the bread.”

  “Is that so?” I asked with a mouthful of perfectly grilled cheese.

  “You’re a bread crusher, aren’t you?” He narrowed his eyes at me.

  “What if I was?” I said flippantly.

  “I may have to reconsider our relationship.”

  “Is that so? What if I said I’ve seen the light? That this grilled cheese has reformed me. It’s now the gold standard of all sandwiches.”

  “Then all is forgiven. I’ll keep you around.” He leaned over and kissed me, smiling.

  We ate in relative silence. I was way hungrier than I realized and devoured the grilled cheese and soup.

  “I hate to break it to you, but that’s about the extent of my culinary skills,” Steve said as I gathered the plates and bowls to wash in the sink. “The fridge is empty too. I have to grab some groceries. I’ll drop you off at work tonight and pick up a few things. Let me know what you like to keep on hand. Then I’ll pick you up when the bar closes, and take you home, here, with me.” He wrapped his arms around me while I placed the last of the dishes in the rack and nuzzled my neck. I could get used to this.