Temporary

by Alexx Andria

  You can probably imagine how much that sucked.

  One night had changed everything — even the way I masturbated.

  Rubbing out a weak, utterly dissatisfying orgasm almost wasn’t worth the effort.

  Almost.

  They say that the difference between love and infatuation was four months.

  I found myself wondering if Gage had been The One or just The One Who Was Incredibly Hot In Bed But Ultimately A Train Wreck.

  It was probably safe to assume the latter, actually.

  My cell rang, interrupting my meandering and ultimately morose thoughts, to find my sister calling.

  “Hey,” I answered, putting her on speaker so I could thumb through the magazine I’d bought on impulse earlier this morning. “What’s up?”

  “We got the packages,” Tara said with worried annoyance. “What are you doing spending money you don’t have on the kids? Don’t get me wrong, it’s a very sweet gesture but…”

  I smiled. Tara had probably freaked out when she saw the brand new Virtual Reality gaming system I’d bought for my nephew, Charlie. The kid loved gaming and I’d missed out on too many birthdays to count because I’d been too poor to even send a card. “Tell Charlie it’s for his birthday, Christmas and whatever else holiday out there that I’ve missed,” I said.

  “Are you sure you can afford this?” Tara asked, worried. Then her tone suddenly changed, saying, “Oh my God, Mari…are you dying? Is that what this is? Please tell me you’re not sick.”

  “I’m not sick. I just got a new job and it pays better than my last,” I fudged a little (okay, a lot, don’t judge me). “C’mon, let me spoil my niece and nephew for once. Do they like their gifts?”

  “They love them,” Tara admitted, releasing a huffed breath. “But now that kinda leaves me and Ryan at a loss as to what to get them for their birthdays.”

  “Sorrynotsorry,” I quipped, grinning. “I hope you snapped some pics of them losing their minds over that shit because I want to see it.”

  Tara laughed. “I’ll email you a few of Charlie running into the wall while playing that virtual game thingy. As for Yasmine, she hasn’t put down that ridiculous doll set since she opened the box. You really spent way too much money,” she admonished but softened, saying, “But it was very sweet. Thank you.”

  “No problem.”

  “Okay, now tell me about this new job?”

  “It’s…like a consulting gig,” I lied, realizing I needed a more solid story if I was going to manage to fool my family, especially Tara. “It’s not long-term or anything but it paid pretty well so I can actually breathe for awhile. I even quit Jimmy’s.”

  “You quit your job?” Tara repeated and I could almost see the crease in her forehead forming. If she wasn’t careful Tara would end up needing Botox before she turned twenty-eight. “Do you think that was wise?”

  “It’s fine, I promise,” I assured her, wanting to change the subject. I drew a deep breath and jumped into what needed to be said between us. “Look, I wanted to apologize for calling you a stuck up twat when we talked last. I hope you know I didn’t mean it.” Tara’s silence poked at me. That twin thing was in full effect. Damn, I’d really hurt her. Sometimes I wish I wasn’t such a colossal bitch. “Tara, I shouldn’t have said it. There’s no excuse and I’m so sorry. Forgive me?”

  Tara heaved a short sigh, saying, “Of course I forgive you, you idiot. I was just worried about you, you know? You’re so far away from everyone and we know your pride won’t let you ask for money to come home. If you wanted, that is. Do you want to come home, Mari?”

  That was the million dollar question. Before I had the means to leave New York, it was all I thought about. Now, the money was in my bank and yet, I was dragging my feet to put the wheels in motion.

  The thing was, when I tried to picture myself back home, driving the same streets of my childhood, seeing the same people over and over…everyone living the life they’ve always lived (for generations) I got kinda queasy.

  At least New York was never boring.

  Chaos and art lived side by side in this city without blinking an eye or noticing the disparity between the two.

  I loved that.

  “Mari?”

  Tara’s voice interrupted my thoughts. “I’m sorry…uh, yeah, maybe,” I answered, keeping my response vague. “But I have things I have to finish up here first.”

  That part was true.

  But even as I left myself some wiggle room, I felt the pressure from across the miles to move home.

  My family had been horrified when I’d announced I was moving to New York.

  My father nearly choked on his mouthful of asparagus.

  My mother paled as if she’d just been given a week to live.

  “But it’s so far,” she’d protested, looking to my dad for support. “You don’t know anyone in New York.”

  My announcement had effectively ruined dinner that night five years ago.

  And my parents hadn’t let me forget since then.

  Don’t get me wrong, they weren’t bad people or even bad parents. Maybe that was the problem, they were great parents and they’d known I was going to crash and burn so they’d tried to convince me to stay home.

  But if I’d stayed home…I would’ve followed in the same footsteps as Tara — married, kids, a 9-to-5 job, and a husband whose gut softened a little more each year — and I just couldn’t do it.

  I can’t go home.

  “Well, let us know if you need anything. Oh! Yasmine, stop hitting your brother,” Tara said abruptly, the sound of kids fighting in the background interrupting our talk. “I’m so sorry, I have to call you back later. Yasmine just punched Charlie in the leg!”

  “Go girl power,” I quipped with an inappropriate chuckle. My niece liked dolls and all sorts of girly things but she was the kind of kid who wouldn’t hesitate to set someone straight if they were messing with her, including her brother.

  Tara clicked off and I tossed my phone to the sofa cushion beside me. Unlike my previous sofa, which was soft and mushy, my new sofa was still a bit stiff, and my cell bounced right to the floor.

  I grumbled as I bent to pick it up but a knock at my door stopped me mid-stretch. I wasn’t expecting anyone so curiosity set my feet in motion.

  I opened the door and a delivery man stood with a good-sized package. “Mari Jones?” he asked, I confirmed and he handed me the package with professional disinterest, then left.

  There was no return address. I opened the package and gasped at the contents.

  A state-of-the-art digital SLR camera with all the bells and whistles, a full lens kit and a carry bag — basically anything I could possibly need to start a photography career.

  “What the hell?” I murmured, completely confused, until I found a small note at the bottom of the box.

  Make your mark.

  Tears crowded my sinuses. There was only one person this package could be from…Gage.

  Oh. Fuck.

  Yep. Totally crying now.

  16

  Maybe the camera was a goodbye gift.

  There’d been a wild hope that Gage would show up on my doorstep but it didn’t happen.

  After another week passed and there was no sign of Gage, nor any more mysterious gifts, I let myself cry it out and tried to move on.

  But first, I had to tie up loose ends.

  My court date with Landon was today — I hadn’t had a chance to hire a lawyer but I was banking on the fact that the custody battle was bullshit and the judge would toss the case.

  If things didn’t go my way…I might lose Miss Switch.

  If that happened, my next move would be to hire a hitman.

  I walked into the courtroom and took a seat, waiting for the judge to enter. I thought it was odd that Landon wasn’t there. Maybe I would win by default?

  But suddenly a woman entered the courtroom, walking briskly to my table, surprising me by offering a quick handshake before saying,
“Jane Simmons, I’ll be your counsel,” she said. “I apologize for not contacting you earlier. I received your case this morning.”

  Confused, I said, “I’m sorry, I think there’s a mistake…I haven’t hired you.”

  “We have a mutual friend,” she stated, leaving it at that before pulling folders from her leather satchel. “Your bill is paid. Now, let’s get this farce of a custody battle over with. Honestly, frivolous lawsuits ought to be outlawed.”

  Landon showed up finally, slinking into the courtroom, looking sullen and nervous, which wasn’t a good look on him. How had I ever thought he was attractive?

  And I’d wanted to make babies with him? Gross.

  Landon’s gaze flicked to me and he visibly gulped at the obvious shark of a lawyer by my side.

  I won’t bore you with the details — I won — but I will tell you, the dress down the judge gave Landon for filing a bullshit lawsuit was worth the anguish I’d suffered after being served.

  Landon scuttled from the courtroom faster than I’d ever seen the man move and my attorney flashed me a brief but bright smile. “If only all my cases were this cut and dry. Pleasure working with you, dear.”

  “Thank you for your help. I was really scared that I might lose my cat,” I said.

  “Sometimes the justice system works for the good guy.” Ms. Simmons winked and started to leave but I stopped her with a brief touch on her arm. “Yes?” she asked.

  “Can you help me get a hold of Gage?” I asked, trying not to sound desperate but even to my own ears I sounded pathetic. “I need to talk to him.”

  Understanding reached her brown eyes but she shook her head. “Client confidentiality, sweetie.” At my obvious disappointment, she added, “He must think highly of you to take care of this nuisance…he’s very private, as you can imagine.”

  I nodded, oddly the statement hurt more than if she’d said Gage regularly picked up some random soul’s legal bills for shits and giggles. If he thought so highly of me…why was he avoiding me like the plague?

  “Of course,” I murmured. All I could think to add was, “Tell him thank you for me” because what else could I say? If he wanted to see me, he knew where to find me and since he hadn’t shown his mug around my place…the answer was pretty obvious.

  Ugh. Rejection sucked.

  Ms. Simmons smiled, saying, “I will” and then the crisply dressed woman click-clacked out of the courtroom at a sharp pace, leaving me behind.

  I returned home later that night, fully prepared to drown my sorrows in Kung Pao chicken, when there was a knock at my door.

  At this point, I was starting to associate the door knock with more deliveries I didn’t order and I didn’t know whether to be frustrated by Gage’s penchant for sending me cool shit or simply appreciative of the oddly thoughtful gifts.

  I opened the door and I immediately wish I’d made a different wardrobe choice.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked, even though my heart was hammering on my chest bone hard enough to hurt. God, I probably looked homeless. I glanced furtively at my faded, oversized top with the spaghetti stain right and fumbled with a more appropriate greeting. “I mean…hello.”

  Gage, in all his asshole glory, hot as hell, even with blood-shot eyes and looking like he hadn’t slept in a week, was standing on my stoop.

  Tears immediately jumped to my eyes. Damn him.

  He didn’t say hello or offer any kind of apology for his confusing behavior, just stepped over my threshold and yanked me into his arms as if he had the right.

  “Goddamn you, Mari,” he growled before sealing his mouth to mine, swallowing me whole. My bones melted as I clutched desperately at him, afraid I was dreaming.

  I gasped as his tongue stabbed into my open mouth, seeking to connect. I met him eagerly, my eyes closing as everything that Gage was flooded my senses. I was drowning in his scent, the feel of his skin against mine, his hard cock pressing against my pelvis.

  Whiskey on his breath gave away that he was either mildly drunk or totally wasted.

  I wanted to be outraged, that he would come to me only when he wanted a booty call, but I was too happy to see him to climb onto that high horse.

  Within seconds our clothes were on the floor. A heartbeat later, I was on my hands and knees, my ass framed between his strong hands as he roughly planted himself inside me.

  I groaned, the thick length of Gage’s cock stretching me with each inch as he pushed himself balls deep.

  There was no time for foreplay, no give and take. Gage was wild with the need to claim. I could feel the urgency in his touch, the unchecked lust that rode him as hard as he was fucking me now.

  And it was hellishly good. I moaned like a cat in heat, my back arched as his hips flexed, hitting that wickedly engorged spot with sniper-level accuracy. Good God, it was like Gage’s cock was made for my pleasure.

  My thighs began to shake as the pressure built. Gage’s thrusts became more erratic, more out of control, and I knew we were both within seconds of cumming.

  I tried to hold out, to draw out the moment, but my body was like, fuck you, I need this, and I came hard, shattering like glass.

  But Gage couldn’t hold back either, shouting his release as he jetted his cream, filling me until I dripped.

  We both collapsed on the floor, breathing hard. His seed dribbled from between my thighs, slick and warm.

  Gage shocked me when he towered above me, his hand reaching between my thighs to rub his seed all over my mound, saying, with an edge of desperation that pulled at my heart, “You belong to me, understand? Always.”

  I nodded because, damn him, it was true. Just seeing him again tore me apart and yet filled me with indescribable joy.

  I knew what I should do — toss him out for playing games with my heart — but I also knew I wouldn’t.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked softly, daring to caress his stubbled jaw. “I don’t understand you, Gage.”

  He didn’t answer — he never fucking answered — but he did lower his head to brush a tender, almost sweet kiss across my lips. My heart broke. “Gage,” I pleaded, tossing all dignity aside. “Stay with me.”

  “You deserve better than me,” Gage finally said as climbed unsteadily to his feet to try and pull his jeans on. I quickly followed, catching him before he crashed through my living room wall. “Jesus,” he groaned, scrubbing his face with his hand. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have come…”

  “You’re fucking drunk, Gage,” I said, maneuvering him to the sofa before he did something stupid. “What is going on?”

  I didn’t expect an answer to my mumbled question but Gage surprised me.

  “I don’t deserve happiness, Mari,” he said, the slight slur only adding to the anguish in his tone. “It was my fault. It should’ve been me.”

  Confused, I asked, “What are you talking about? What was your fault?”

  But Gage just shook his head, closing his eyes as his head fell back against the cushion, sprawled like a naked sex doll on my new sofa.

  Great. He’d passed out.

  At least, that’s what I’d thought until his eyes opened a slit and he pulled me to straddle him. Jesus Christ on a cracker, even drunk the man had fucking stamina.

  I sank onto his cock and rode him slowly, drawing out the pleasure, loving the way his eyes rolled up in his head as he groaned, his big hands anchored on my hips. “That’s it, baby,” he moaned as I rocked on his cock, my breath quickening as a second orgasm threatened.

  He stiffened and gasped as he pumped his load. I followed as I tumbled into a sweeter orgasm, less intense but satisfying just the same. I fell against his chest, his cock still buried inside me.

  Gage’s arms circled around me as if he were afraid to let go. “The only time the world makes sense is when I’m inside you,” he admitted, drawing a shuddering breath. “What the fuck am I going to do?”

  He was drunk as shit. Whatever demons were eating him, they had him by the ball
s. I knew if he were sober, he never would’ve come by.

  I slowly shifted and his cock slipped from my soaked pussy. I held my hand out to him. “Come.”

  Gage eyed my hand as if I were offering salvation and damnation in the same gesture.

  But he accepted my hand and I helped pull him up, leading him to my bedroom.

  “I shouldn’t stay…”

  “You’re drunk. You need to sleep it off. We’ll talk in the morning.”

  He offered no protest, which frankly surprised me. Even drunk Gage was difficult as fuck.

  “Why haven’t you moved from this shithole?” he asked, stumbling into my bed. “It’s not safe. You’ve got a fucking drug dealer who lives two doors down, for Chrissakes.”

  “Hey, that’s Dougie and he’s cool,” I joked. “I try not to judge.”

  “Fuck, Mari…I don’t want you living here anymore.”

  “Well, that’s not your choice to make,” I reminded him as I tucked him into bed. “I’m sure once you’re sober, you won’t give two shits about where I live.”

  “That’s bullshit and you know it,” he replied sourly. “You know I fucking care. That’s the fucking problem. I wasn’t supposed to care. I never care about anyone. Easier that way. Except you. Always you, Mari.”

  That last part was muttered into the pillow but his admission gave away so much.

  We all had scars but it seemed Gage’s went bone-deep. Whatever had broken inside him, still had jagged edges.

  The question was…could I handle whatever he was hiding?

  17

  We slept tangled up in each other, our limbs twisted and touching as if we were both afraid to let go.

  I awoke out of a deep sleep to the sensation of Gage slipping his tongue between my pussy lips, licking and sucking as if the key to life was between my thighs. I twisted with sheer pleasure, splayed out on my bed, Gage feasting like a dying man, and I died a million times over.

  I keened my release so loudly I’m sure I woke the neighbors but I didn’t care. All that mattered was the moment between Gage and I.

  And the moment was hot, smelled of sex, sweat, and primal need.