by Roxie Noir
“Fuck me harder, Stone,” I gasp, dropping onto my elbows, his hand still in my hair. I look over my shoulder at him, his eyes blazing. “I need you to fuck me as hard as you can. Now.”
Stone grabs a pillow and shoves it under my hips. I can hear him breathing hard as he pushes himself into me slowly until he’s all the way in, deep inside me, and it feels so good I think my brain is shutting down.
He kisses my shoulder softly, almost tenderly. Then he grabs it with his rough, calloused hand, pulls out, and slams into me.
I shout, and Stone does it again, one hand in my hair and one clutching my shoulder.
“That what you need?” he asks, his voice a low growl.
My face is on the bed, turned to one side, my fists pulling the sheets tight on either side.
“Yes,” I gasp, because it’s so intense I can barely move. “Jesus, Stone, that feels good.”
He doesn’t answer, just keeps going. It feels like something dangerous is building inside me, something unstoppable, uncontrollable. I think I might be whimpering, but my brain is nearly shut down and all I can think is fuck yes fuck yes fuck yes.
“I’m not gonna last long,” Stone says into my ear.
“Don’t stop,” I beg. “Please don’t stop.”
“You should get a mirror in here,” he says, his voice rough. “I bet you’d like watching yourself fuck.”
“Don’t stop,” I breathe. I feel like my skin is about to pop open, it feels so good. For a moment I wonder whether I’m already coming and don’t even know it.
“I wish I could watch you come from both sides,” Stone goes on, still plowing me as hard as he can.
“Fuck,” I whisper.
“I could fuck you like this and still see your face,” he whispers in my ear.
“Stone, make me come,” I whimper.
My whole body shudders, and his fingers dig into my shoulder.
“Jesus, Luna,” he says.
“Fuck me, Stone,” I say. I’m right at the edge, about to go over any second, my whole body wound like a spring. “God, please, Stone, just—”
He thrusts into me so hard I shout, and before I know it I’m falling over the edge, coming so hard I almost can’t feel my body. I think I’m dissolving, bolts of pure pleasure rattling through me and knocking my joints apart.
Someone’s shouting Jesus fuck Stone yes but I feel strangely detached, almost high, riding wave after wave of pleasure, gradually coming back down to earth.
Then Stone growls “Holy fuck, Luna,” in my ear, and he comes so hard I feel his cock throb inside me. He bites my shoulder and keeps thrusting, like he can somehow get deeper, growling and pulling my hips into him.
We’re still moving together, but gradually we stop. Stone’s still on top of me, still hard, and he rests his forehead on the back of my neck for a long moment, gently moving my hair out of my face.
Then he kisses the spot where his forehead was, pulls out, and rolls over.
I’m not sure I can move.
26
Stone
I’m not a doctor, but it seems possible that I broke my balls. I mean, that’s what it feels like as I lay there, on my back, looking at Luna’s ceiling: I came so hard that I straight up broke my nuts and I can never use them again.
Luna takes a deep breath, then turns her head toward me, still on her stomach, hips propped up by a pillow.
Worth it, I think.
I reach over and smack her lightly on the ass.
“Hey,” Luna says.
I do it again, because I like the way it jiggles just the right amount.
“Okay, enough,” she says, even though she still doesn’t move.
“But it’s right there,” I say. “It wants me to smack it.”
“My butt is not sentient,” Luna says. “It can’t want things.”
She takes a deep breath, then lifts her hips off the pillow and pulls it out from underneath herself, tossing it to the head of the bed. Then she rolls over onto her back. I slide my arm under her head.
“Do I still get to sleep in the bed?” I ask, turning toward her. “Or was that all a ruse because you wanted my dick?”
Luna turns bright pink.
“Come on, I wouldn’t—”
I just start laughing.
“I’m teasing you, Detective,” I say.
“You don’t have to call me detective when we’re naked in bed together,” she mutters. “And yes, you can sleep here.”
“Though you did blush when I said you wanted my dick.”
She blushes again, and this time I grin.
“So you can scream filthy things when we’re fucking, but as soon as it’s over I can’t say dick?” I tease. “That’s a double standard, Detective.”
Luna just makes a face at me, and I stick my tongue out at her. I still feel high, almost giddy. Like I could start giggling at any second. I don’t giggle.
She stretches her neck to look at her bedside clock, then curses.
“I have to be up in five hours,” she says, slinging an arm across her face.
I think of the Syndicate’s symbol in the dust on her car.
It’s fine, I think. You’re here. Nothing’s gonna happen to Luna.
“What was the deal with the asshole cop?” I ask.
Luna sighs.
“That’s Chad,” she says reluctantly.
The way she says his name tells me nearly everything I need to know.
“Ex?” I ask.
“That’s probably too nice a word for it,” she says. “Ex would imply that we actually dated instead of just ‘had a thing.’”
She makes air quotes when she says it, rolling her eyes.
“We stopped ‘having a thing’ when I got promoted over him,” she adds. “It wasn’t a coincidence.”
“Is ‘having a thing’ something you do in California?” I ask, trying to keep my voice light.
I definitely suspected he was her ex, just from the way he looked like he wanted to murder me when I touched her, but knowing it for sure makes something dark and ugly slither through my gut. I don’t like the idea of someone else touching Luna, but even after interacting with him for thirty seconds, I can tell Chad’s a total asshole.
The thought of him with Luna feels like rats gnawing on my insides.
Luna chews on her lip.
“People go out of their way not to put labels on relationships, I think,” she says. “Because if you have a boyfriend or a girlfriend, someday you might get married, and then you might settle down, and God forbid anyone think you might want something that clichéd.”
“But if you’re just having a thing, you’re still totally hip and cool and fun?” I say dryly.
“Something like that,” Luna says, then turns and looks at me. “I didn’t say it was particularly good reasoning.”
“Most of the marriages where I’m from start with shotgun weddings,” I say. “I’m not sure it’s any better.”
“There’s probably no better or worse,” Luna says, and shrugs. “Two hundred years ago my dad would have traded my hand in marriage for a couple of goats, so I think we’ve at least made progress.”
“Are we having a thing now?” I ask.
Luna laughs, then glances at my dick, which still has the condom on it.
“Well, it’s not a shotgun wedding,” she says.
“There are other options, Detective,” I say.
She looks at me very seriously for a long moment, her gold-flecked eyes searching mine. I’m beginning to think she’s going to say I don’t think a thing is a good idea or I can’t have a thing with an ex-con or this is just sex, stupid.
“I think it could be,” she says softly.
“Could be?” I ask.
“I’m a cop and you’re a convicted felon,” she points out.
“Not officially.”
“You had the cops called on you tonight,” she says. “I had to come rescue you from my ex.”
I just laugh.
“I’m not the one you would have been rescuing,” I say.
“He’s got a taser, a gun, and a partner,” Luna points out.
I make a face, because I’ve been tased before. I’d prefer not to be tased again.
“I could still get in a few good punches,” I say.
“And then you’d go to jail for assaulting a police officer,” Luna says.
I almost shrug and tell her that’s no big deal, but a glance at her face shuts me up.
She deserves someone who doesn’t punch cops and wind up in jail, stupid, I remind myself. Think about consequences, just once in a while.
“I’ll make you a deal,” I say. “I go a whole day without assaulting an officer, and you have dinner with me.”
“A whole day?” she says, the corners of her eyes crinkling.
“It’s been years since I properly assaulted a police officer, Detective,” I say. “I can make it another couple hours if the reward is good enough.”
Luna rolls toward me so that her right side is against my left, her cheek against my arm.
“I’ll even call it a date, not a dinner thing,” I say. “Stop pretending to think about it and just say yes like you want to.”
“Cocky,” she teases.
“Well, you already used me for my dick and you’re still awake and talking,” I tease back. “I think you like me as more than your own personal sex toy, Detective.”
Luna laughs.
“I’ll go to dinner with you if you stop saying I’m using you for your dick,” she says.
“I wouldn’t blame you,” I say. “It’s a nice dick.”
“Oh, my God,” Luna says. She rolls her eyes, but I can tell she’s trying not to laugh. I half-roll toward her and kiss her again, my other arm lazily making its way around her back as she moves against me, warm and sleepy and relaxed.
“We’re still sideways on your bed,” I mutter when our lips come apart.
“You’re still wearing a used condom,” Luna murmurs. “There’s a couple problems that need solving.”
I kiss her again, lightly.
“Let’s get on it, then,” I say, and heave myself off her bed.
I double-check all her doors and windows, and Luna’s already asleep when I get back, her hair in its braid again, her face buried in her pillow and her arms and legs out to either side, like a starfish.
It’s kind of adorable.
I pull my boxers back on — she’s wearing underwear and it seems rude to be less clothed than your host — then walk around to the other side of the bed.
Before I get in I stand there for a long moment and just watch Luna. I can’t remember the last time I slept in the same bed as a woman. It was before prison, for sure. Maybe I fell asleep in some girl’s apartment by accident, because I have a vague memory of waking up somewhere strange, but I can’t place it.
I hope no one calls to find Ellwood before our date, I think. Please, God, whoever’s listening: give me this one thing.
I don’t have a plan. I didn’t think that far ahead, I just rushed in like always without thinking much about consequences. All I wanted was to keep Luna safe. Now, at least, I’m here, and she’s fine.
I sit on the edge of the bed and try, very gently, to move Luna over a couple of inches so I can at least lie down. Slowly, doing my best not to wake her up, I manage to push one arm out of the way just enough that I can get into the bed.
The moment I do, she grumbles something and rolls over onto her side, her back to me, this half of the bed wide open. I curl myself around her slowly and feel her breathe against me.
I have to do better, I think. I want to do this again.
I fall asleep slowly, trying to savor this.
27
Luna
My alarm goes off way too soon. It usually does, but I’m not usually awake until the very early morning, so this is extra unwelcome.
I reach out and try to smack it off, but Stone’s practically wrapped himself around me and I can’t get to it.
“Nnnngnggnmmm,” he says into my hair, tightening one arm across my chest.
The alarm keeps beeping. I flail one arm at it, just out of reach.
“Turn it off,” he mutters.
“I’m trying,” I mutter back, still flailing. Then I stop, my arm dangling over the side of the bed, and just stare pathetically at the alarm clock.
Finally Stone lifts his head up.
“Izzit broken?” he asks.
I just make a noise and flail my arm again. Stone finally loosens his grip and I lurch forward, finally hitting the sweet sweet snooze button, and sink back into my pillow. He slides his arm back around me.
We repeat that scene, more or less, at least twice more before I finally manage to sit up on the edge of my bed instead of falling back asleep.
“You could skip work and spend the day in bed,” Stone says from behind me. He traces one finger down my spine, and even though I’m barely awake, I shiver.
“I’ve got too much stuff to do,” I say. “And I can’t have you talking me into becoming a degenerate.”
“Come on,” he says, his voice low and lazy. “Be bad once.”
“Are you kidding?” I ask. “You gave me a lead on the arson case yesterday. I’ve got work to do.”
“Fine, go solve crimes,” he says.
“You also have a job, if I remember correctly,” I tease, standing up. “Something about fixing cars?”
“Something about that,” Stone says, and sits up on the other side of the bed. “Good thing I wear coveralls, otherwise I might have to explain to Eddie why I’m wearing the same outfit as yesterday.”
“Eddie does seem pretty fashion-forward,” I say. “He probably writes down what you wear every day.”
I take a quick shower and force myself to turn down Stone’s offer of showering together, since I’m already going to be cutting it close. When I get out he hands me a cup of coffee and a bowl of yogurt.
“Thanks,” I say, surprised.
I take a sip of the coffee. It’s good.
“I’m on my best behavior,” Stone says, and winks at me. “I haven’t forgotten our deal.”
I get dressed in five minutes flat, spend another five minutes wrestling my hair, then dump my dishes in the sink. Stone’s already by the door, jacket and boots on. I glance at the wall clock in my living room.
“Almost on time,” I say, relieved, and reach for the door.
Stone catches my wrist.
“Wait,” he says.
I’m already late, I think, but he cups my jaw softly and looks down at me.
I stop worrying about being late.
Stone looks like he wants to say something, but he doesn’t. After a long moment he just bends down and kisses me.
“I’ll pick you up at six-thirty?” he says after ending the kiss.
“I can just meet you somewhere,” I say, my hand on the door knob.
“It’s a date, not a thing,” he says. “I’m also paying for it.”
I raise my eyebrows.
“Shit, Stone, I’m not royalty,” I say, and open the door. “Six-thirty sounds good. As long as you don’t punch a cop.”
“I’ve got a good feeling about that,” he says, and I open my front door.
Then he smacks my ass as I step out.
As excited as I am about the lead for the arson case, it doesn’t exactly crack wide open. Detective work is about ninety-five percent poring over details, going through records, and being really thorough, and maybe five percent aha! moments.
We compile a list of people with known criminal affiliations who are also affiliated with the Community College of the Sierras. It’s not exciting or sexy, but this is how shit gets done.
I also think about Stone more than I’d prefer, given that I’m at work, trying to solve crimes. I think about last night, which started with him nearly getting arrested and ended with me shouting into my mattress.
I think about the fact that I’m going
on a date with him tonight, in public, where people can see that I’m romantically linked to the guy who was a briefly a suspect.
I’m not breaking any rules, but that doesn’t mean I don’t worry a little.
Despite everything, I’m still afraid I’m being stupid. Even if him being in WitSec does actually explain everything — all the lying, all the acting weird — he still spent five years in prison. He still had every intention of sitting outside my house all night. He still nearly got into a fight with a cop.
Rationally, Stone’s not a great bet. Prison fucks people up, and being in WitSec and having to lie to everyone about everything fucks them up more. He said himself that he’s not very good with consequences, so it’s probably a matter of time until something really bad happens.
And yet, I keep catching myself thinking about what I’m going to wear, and debating whether it should include underwear or not. I’m getting all moony over the fact that he’s picking me up, in a car, not suggesting that I meet him at a taco shack.
I’m squirming in my still-busted chair thinking about the dirty things I want him to do to me. It’s a long day.
At six-twenty-five, I’m finally ready. Most of my clothes are strewn across my bed, but I discovered that I own two dresses, and now I’m wearing one of them with a pair of wedge sandals I vaguely remember buying a couple of years ago. I’ve got make up on and didn’t stab myself in the eye with mascara at all.
You’re killing it, Rivers, I think at myself in the mirror.
I decided to wear underwear, by the way.
There’s a knock on my door, and butterflies tumble through my stomach. I yank it open and Stone’s standing there, in jeans and a double-pocket button-down gray shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows.
“Guess what,” he says.
“Well, you’re standing here, so you probably didn’t punch any cops,” I say.
He grins.
“Bingo, Detective,” he says, his eyes traveling down my body. I swallow hard and wonder if we’re actually going to make it to dinner.
“You want to come in?” I offer.