At Any Price

by Theresa Leigh

  Chapter Sixteen

  Jameson

  Trusting my gut was one thing. Fucking her against a wall behind a casino was quite another.

  If I had stopped for even one second I might have realized what a bad idea this was. But I didn't stop, couldn't stop. I was tearing open the condom before she even finished asking me to fuck her, and in my headlong rush I dropped it somewhere on the ground. "Fuck," I hissed.

  "You clean?" she whispered desperately.

  "I am." It was true. I got tested once a month

  "I'm on the pill," she replied, nipping down on my shoulder. "I want you inside of me."

  That shouldn't have been enough. I knew better than this. Except maybe I didn't because I was already pressing against her, my bare tip sliding against her slick pussy.

  She hissed and arched her hips forward. I grabbed her leg and threw it over my arm, spreading her wide for me while with the other I gripped my cock. "You sure?" I asked, one more time, and maybe I was asking myself that question too. This was crazy.

  But when I slipped inside of her, all thoughts of caution abandoned my head. "Jesus, Charlie," I growled as I sank all the way inside. "You're so fucking tight."

  "Oh my god," she moaned in my ear. "It's been... fuck you feel so..."

  Her words died away into incoherent babble that only had me harder for her. I'd always believed I was the one in charge in the bedroom. Of course I never left a woman needy, but there was never a question of who was fucking who.

  Maybe it was the fact that we weren't in a bedroom, we were up against a wall in the shadows behind a dumpster. Or, more likely, it was this woman in particular that had me feeling so off-kilter. Because as hard as I was fucking her — and there was no denying that I was a fucking animal, driving myself deeper and deeper, making her feel each punishing inch — she was fucking me right back.

  Her hands were everywhere, clawing, kneading and scratching. Her mouth was on mine, licking and sucking and biting. Her legs were wrapped around me so tight I was panting, and still she clutched tighter. From somewhere outside of myself I realized that for the first time I might have met my match — a girl as hungry and driven and forceful as me — and the thought drove me so fucking wild that I was getting close before I wanted to be, already poised to plummet over the edge before I'd even fully enjoyed the climb.

  "Fuck, girl," I panted as I slowed, deepening my strokes and forcing myself to calm down. "You're a wild thing, aren't you?"

  "So close," she yelped, clinging to me, her hips undulating a sinuous curve against me.

  "I want to feel you come," I whispered, pressing my lips down on hers to swallow her moans. "I want to feel that tight pussy clamp down on my cock." I reached down, pressing my thumb to her clit which made her hiss against my mouth. "Can you come for me right now?" I almost begged. "I need to feel it. Give it to me, Charlie, let me fucking hear it..."

  The sound that tore from her throat was one I swore I'd heard in my dreams before. She yelped and smashed her mouth into mine to muffle the scream that rippled up from her. "Yesss," I hissed, almost inaudible as my tongue found hers. "I feel you, god you're tight, you're so hot you're going to burn me up, sweet thing. I think I'm already on fucking fire." She yelped louder as I drove into her harder and harder. I was fucking her way too rough for our first time together, but the fact that she was taking everything I had and still wanting more had me so hard I was vibrating and suddenly I had to pull back. "Fuck," I grunted, my sense returning at the last possible second, and I pulled back with a long, heavy groan. Her hands roamed my body as I spilled myself against her thigh, painting her soft skin with my cum.

  "Fuck," I repeated, because words seemed to have abandoned me.

  "Fuck," she agreed. Her tight grip on my neck loosened and she slid back down the wall. In the low light, I saw her bite her lip and shimmy her dress back down again, over that spot on her thighs where I had lost control. Something about knowing she was still wearing my cum had me semi-hard again already.

  "That was..." I didn't have a word for what it was.

  "I know," she breathed, sighing and letting her head fall back against the wall.

  I didn't know what to do. I wanted to thank her. I wanted to ask her out for a drink now, make sure this night never ended. I wanted to carry her back to my hotel on foot and lay her down on soft sheets with the lights on while I watched her face. I opened my mouth to tell her just that.

  And her phone rang.

  "Fuck," she said, with a completely different intonation.

  "Leave it," I begged.

  But she was already pulling it from her purse. "It's the sitter," she hissed. "Maisie," she said into the phone. "What's up?"

  And then all at once she was rushing away from me, yanking her skirt down over her thighs as she jammed her phone against her ear.

  I chased after her. What else could I do? Zipping my fly, and with the aftershock of the intensity of our fucking still thrumming in my ears, I sprinted after Charlie as she raced through the parking lot.

  Her sandals slapped against the pavement, but I was faster. I caught up with her in ten strides and put my hand on her arm. She whirled around and for a second I was worried that she was going to hit me, but I needed to know. "Charlie, what?" I pleaded.

  She yanked her arm away. "I need to go," she said, and all of the spontaneity and freedom in her voice was gone. She turned away, pressing the phone back to her ear again. "How high is his fever?" she repeated to whoever was on the other line.

  My hot blood suddenly ran cold. Her son. I'd almost forgotten she had a kid. How could I have forgotten?

  "I'll take you," I whispered, not wanting to interrupt.

  She looked up at me with her eyes still wide, and nodded without saying anything, still listening to her phone. I rested my hand on her back and gently led her across the parking lot as she listened still, asking a question every so often. She didn't say a word to me, even as I opened the door for her. She just slid inside, her face a tight mask of focus. She nodded a few more times. Then she hung up with the promise to be there as soon as she could.

  I drove her in silence for a few moments, worried about interrupting whatever it was that was running through her head. I could only guess.

  But then she let out a long, slow hiss. "Fuck," she whispered, and I wasn't entirely sure she meant for me to hear.

  "Tell me which way to go," I said quietly.

  "I shouldn't have..." She trailed off and then suddenly she let out a low growl and slammed her head on the back of the head rest.

  "Hey!" I said. "Don't do that to yourself!"

  "I'm so shit at this," she breathed. "Fuck, how could I have left him?"

  "You deserve to have a little fun," I reminded her quietly.

  She turned, and her eyes flashed, blazing in the street lamps. "Easy for you to say," she said tightly. "You don't have anything to worry about do you?"

  "You don't know that," I reminded her, just as tightly. "You really don't know anything about me."

  "Same," she replied.

  I wanted to protest. I wanted to tell her I knew everything about her, that I learned all I needed to know feeling her fall to pieces from the inside out. I knew she was strong as hell, but didn't trust her own judgment. I knew she was feisty and driven, but terrified of success. I knew she had a hell of a lot of guilt about being a mother for whatever reason, but that her fierce love for her son outweighed all of it. I knew all of these things and I’d known her for a less than a day. How could she not know me?

  I pressed down on the accelerator a little more, driving way too fast through the darkened streets, but Charlie didn't say a word. She only sat stiffly, occasionally jamming her fingers on the armrest.

  The sitter's house was ablaze was light, and we'd hardly slowed and pulled into the driveway before Charlie had the door open and was off and running to the front door. It swung open and she ran inside without looking back to check and see if I was staying with her.


  But even though I needed to sleep and pack and get ready for my flight tomorrow, for some reason I still stayed put.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Charlie

  My baby was burning up. He sagged in limply in my arms, twenty pounds of feverish deadweight. "He was whimpering in his sleep," Maisie explained, her arms wrapped tightly around her chest as she swayed from side to side, mimicking me. "That's why I went and checked on him and I could feel how hot he was before I even put a hand on him."

  "Did you take his temperature?" I asked, then waved my hand. "Never mind, he hates it anyway, only lets my mom stick that thing up his butt." I winced. "How about ibuprofen?"

  Maisie gave a small, helpless shrug. "I called you first."

  "Right," I sighed, shifting him in my arms. "Because I'm his mom." And I should have been home with him. He should have been sleeping in his own bed, but instead, I dumped him with a sitter so I could run off and fuck a complete stranger behind a casino. What the hell was wrong with me?

  Grimly I shifted Malcolm's burning bulk in my arms. "Thanks," I whispered to her. "I can uh, let me just get my purse."

  Out of nowhere, Jameson stepped into the doorway. "You can take him to the car," he said smoothly, in this commanding voice that made Maisie stand up straighter. "Here," he said, opening his wallet. "Thank you so much for taking such good care of him."

  Maisie looked like she was about to faint and quickly tucked the folded bills into her bra strap. But not before I caught a glimpse and turned to glare at Jameson. "Really?" I hissed.

  "Take Malcolm to the car," he repeated.

  Swearing softly under my breath, I decided it was more important to get Malcolm home than it was to stand there and demand who he thought he was paying my sitter and why on earth he'd just handed her five hundred dollar bills.

  "Shit," I hissed as I stood on Maisie's porch and looked at Jameson's sleek luxury car. "You don't have a car seat."

  Jameson looked blank for a moment before turning and looking at the car in consternation. "You're right," he sighed. "I'm going to have to get one."

  I looked at him sharply. "Why on earth would you get one?" I spat. "You don't have a kid. And you can afford to just hand over five hundred dollars like it's nothing. You don't have anything to worry about."

  It was the second time I'd flung that accusation at him and for what reason I had no idea. I didn't know that for sure but I couldn't seem to stop saying it.

  "How close are we?" Jameson asked, ignoring my outburst. "To your place?"

  "Not far."

  He nodded. "You can sit in the back," he said, striding purposefully towards the car as if that solved everything.

  I stood there on the porch. He looked back up at me, confused and I shook my head. I was holding Malcolm so tightly that he squirmed and pushed against my chest and my jaw was so tight that it was hard to speak. "It's not safe," I protested through gritted teeth. "Plus if the cops catch us, they could take Malcolm away," I clutched my whimpering child closer to my chest and pressed my face to his feverish cheek.

  "Then we walk," Jameson said lightly.

  I looked up at him again wondering why the hell he was still here. We'd fucked, had the one night stand we both were after. He should be long gone by now. "I can't carry him that far," I sighed. "He's too heavy now."

  "Could I?" Jameson asked, reaching out his hands.

  I hesitated, holding Malcolm tightly to my chest, and looking at Jameson balefully. A strange defensive protectiveness was banging around in my chest. Like I thought that at any moment he might run off and steal my child.

  At that moment, Malcolm moaned sleepily, and then let out a shuddering sigh that tore my heart in two. "Fine," said, handing him over. "We need to get him home."

  Jameson carefully bundled Malcolm into his arms, cradling his little head, and tucking his legs up against his chest. For a moment I stood there, dumbfounded at the site of this massive man with my tiny child in his arms, struggling with a strange tightness in my chest.

  Then Jameson looked up at me still standing on the porch, those kind crinkles appeared in the corners of his eyes. "Show me the way," he said. "I've got him.

  I swallowed hard and stepped forward in the direction of my house. The streets were dark except for the occasional pool of yellow lit by a streetlight and the silence was heavy enough that I could make out the far off whisper of the Falls as they trickled low on the rocks, diminished by the long summer. Malcolm muttered something and I pressed my hand to his cheek. "Mama's here," I whispered, touching his forehead and squeezing his hand before kissing his open palm. "I'm right here baby."

  He snuffled and burrowed his head into Jameson's chest. This man, the one who had been deep inside of me not a half hour ago, uttering a stream of filthy, profane promises, was now silent. His touch, which a half an hour ago had been rough and possessive was now as gentle as anything as he cradled my son in his arms. An emotion I didn't quite have a name for welled up inside of me, making my throat tighten and I turned to the side and coughed before swallowing it back down again.

  "Turn here," I told him, pointing to the turn off Main Street that led to the block that ran parallel to it. My block. "Are you getting tired? Need me to take him?"

  "I've got him," Jameson repeated.

  "My mother will be asleep," I told him.

  "Your mother lives with you?"

  "Actually it's more of the other way around," I said tightly, feeling ashamed.

  "That's cool you have your family all under one roof," he said.

  "Ha, you don't have to humor me, I know I need my own place."

  "I wasn't humoring you," he said a little more sharply than I expected. "I really do think it's cool." He walked a few moments before adding, "I wish my family was together like that."

  "Where is your family?" I heard myself asking.

  He shrugged. "Dad is stationed in Europe."

  "Military?"

  He nodded. "Army. He keeps saying he's going to retire but I don't think he ever will."

  "Is your mom with him?"

  He shook his head. "They split when I was a teenager. Last I knew my Mom and her latest boyfriend were in the desert somewhere. She surfaces around Christmas but that's the extent of it."

  I turned and stared straight ahead. For all that I complained about needing space, I couldn't imagine only seeing my mother once a year. She was so wrapped up in my life, as familiar as my own reflection. I didn't know what to say so I said nothing and instead I pointed. "That's us."

  I unlatched the low gate and Jameson stepped into our tiny front yard, practically taking up the whole thing. I fumbled in my purse and found my keys, then unlocked the three deadbolts my mother insisted on locking each night.

  "Here let me take him," I said, turning once we were in the living room. Jameson handed him over immediately and I smoothed my hand over my son's forehead.

  "Do you want me to get a wet cloth?" he asked.

  "Can you get the ibuprofen?" I asked, pointing. "It's in the bathroom there, medicine cabinet, top right."

  He nodded and disappeared, reemerging with the little syringe I kept next to the bottle. "Here."

  "Is that the right dosage?" I asked.

  He gave me a withering glance. "I know how to read a medicine bottle, Charlie."

  I winced and then nodded. "Okay.

  Malcolm's little lips closed around the syringe and he suckled greedily in his sleep, a sight that made my breasts twinge with the memory of nursing him. "There, baby," I told him, swaying from side to side. "You're going to be okay now." I turned to Jameson. "You can go now."

  The corner of his lip lifted a little. "You want me to?"

  "I mean, I'm just going to be sitting up with him."

  "So I'll sit with you," he said, plopping down on our couch. "Come here," he said, patting the cushion next to him.

  "You don't need to..."

  "But I want to, so..."

  That same strange emotion tightened my
chest, denying me the ability to speak so I just nodded mutely and carefully settled in next to him.

  Malcolm took a deep hitching breath and suddenly got heavier in my arms. "I think the ibuprofen is kicking in," I whispered. "That's the noise he makes when he falls asleep."

  "You should sleep too," Jameson said.

  "How?"

  "Rest your head." He gently pressed my head back until I was leaning into his arm. "There, see? Comfy?"

  "What about you?"

  "Oh, I'm golden."

  I leaned back further. His arm was strangely comfortable. I bit back a yawn. "I used to sit up like this when he was a baby and I would wake up with the most ungodly stiff neck," I said. "My head would flop back and there'd be nothing there to hold it."

  He leaned over and brushed a gentle kiss against my cheek. "Not tonight," he whispered.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Charlie

  I'm drooling.

  That was the first coherent thought I had as I crawled back up from the depths of sleep. I was drooling, and it was pooling in puddle on Jameson's shoulder.

  My second coherent thought was to sit back up again and dab at his shirt with the hem of my skirt before he woke up and noticed the mess I made. But I was pinned underneath Malcolm who was completely asleep and seemed to have gained fifty pounds overnight. How on earth could one twenty-month-old be so heavy?

  Carefully, I attempted to slide my arm out from under my son. His cheeks were no longer flushed pink, and his breathing was deep and regular. I wiggled a little more, freeing my left arm from underneath his knee, and pressed my hand to his forehead. Then I sighed with relief. He was cool, the burning scald of his cheeks has gone away. The fever must have broken sometime during the night.

  Then I looked down and saw that my dress was hiked up, leaving my thighs completely exposed. I glanced hurriedly at Jameson, who was still asleep, his head thrown back at an awkward angle at the back of the couch. I tried to reach down and shimmy my skirt back down under me, but Malcolm started in my arms and I froze. Jameson snorted a little and then coughed. All at once, he sat upright, stretching and then turning to look at me. He blinked once, and then recognition flooded his eyes and the corners crinkled. "Hi," he whispered, looking down at Malcolm. "How's the little guy?"