by Alice Ward
Who the fuck cares? I wanted to shout.
But she cared. I could tell. Giving her a couple inches of space, I nodded. “Are you serious with this other man?”
“No. I actually just met him this week.”
I snorted. “Seems like everybody is meeting someone this week.”
A smile played on her lips. “I know. But we’re going out tomorrow, and I don’t know what that means, and—”
I covered her mouth with my finger. “It means you’re dating. Good for you. And it means that you’re honest about it, which is exactly the right thing to do.”
She looked conflicted. Relieved and what…? Disappointed.
“Journey, I need to be honest with you. I’m not a relationship man. I’m not ready to settle down yet, but I like you. I like you a helluva lot, and I want to see you again. If what you feel for this other guy changes into something more serious, let me know and I’ll wish you well and step aside.”
I leaned down and kissed her again, long and slow until she moaned again.
It was hard to pull away, but I needed to finish this. “Until then, you keep being honest with me, and I’ll keep being honest with you, and let’s have some fun together. Go away with me next weekend, and let’s have some fun.”
“That easy?”
I pressed my forehead to hers. “Yeah. It doesn’t have to be complicated, Journey. We can simply enjoy each other for however long it lasts. And let’s keep the communication lines open and keep talking.”
She grinned. It wasn’t as bright as her other smiles, but it was a start. “Just talkin’?” she mimicked my accent.
My cock was like a steel rod in my pants. “And maybe some kissin’.”
She pressed her body against mine. “And what else?”
Damn, I wanted to fuck her so damn bad. But she wasn’t completely sober, and I respected her too damn much for that. But just a taste.
Reaching up to the tie of the halter around her neck, I pulled at the strings. “Tell me you’ll go with me next weekend.”
She blinked. “I teach a yoga class on Saturdays.”
“Can someone substitute for you?”
She gave it some thought. “Yes.”
I grinned and let the front of her jumpsuit fall to her waist. Damn. Her breasts were small but perfect. And damn sensitive. The nipples nearly pierced my hands when I cupped them.
“Go away with me, and I’ll give you something to remember me by.”
“Nash…”
She moaned as I pinched the nipples between my fingers. She cried out when I bent my head and took one in my mouth, sucking hard, scraping her with my teeth.
I fell to my knees, pulled her jumpsuit down her legs, revealing a black scrap of material that could hardly be called panties.
“Go with me.”
I needed to smell her, so I pressed my nose to the juncture of her thighs. She bucked against me, her hands clawing at the door at her back. “Yes.”
I nuzzled her, running my tongue up the lace. “Yes what, Journey?”
“I’ll go with you. I want to go with you.”
Smiling, I pushed the lace aside and found her with my mouth. I feasted on her flesh as I fed on the way she cried out my name when I pushed two fingers up and inside her.
She’d remember me this week. Hell, she’d remember me tomorrow. She’d be thinking of me when she was with him.
Twisting my hand until I found the spot behind her pubic bone, I curled my fingers, stroking her there. Her legs trembled and her body tightened, her pussy clamping down on my fingers like a fist.
Taking her clit between my teeth, I stroked it with my tongue, working her on the inside and the outside until… yes.
She exploded, and it was beautiful to see. To hear. To feel.
The animal inside me wanted to pull her to the floor, rip off my pants, and shove so deeply inside her she couldn’t breathe.
But the sadistic bastard inside me wanted to wait. Wanted to make her wait. Wanted us both to be driven nearly to distraction by the possibilities of what would happen when we were next together.
So I stood, pulling her jumpsuit up as I went.
She was heaving against the door, her eyes in narrow slits as she sucked air in and out of her lungs.
Very carefully, I tied her top back in place before planting my hands on both sides of her head.
“You’re delicious, and I can’t wait to taste you again. Pack a bikini and little else. I’ll text details.”
Pulling up all the willpower I had inside me, I kissed her, let her taste her sweetness on my lips.
Guiding her away from the door, I opened it. “Lock up behind me real good, okay?”
She nodded and took the doorknob in her hand. I stepped through, feeling like I’d just scored a big one in the sex department. I’d have clicked my damn heels together if my erection would have allowed the movement.
Just as I started down the steps, she stopped me. “Nash?”
I turned, hand on the railing. “Yes, darlin’?”
She grinned. “I can’t wait to taste you too.”
Then the door clicked shut.
I laughed.
Yeah. The girl was wicked.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Journey
My dreams were vivid and erotic again, and I woke Sunday morning feeling both satisfied and needy at once. It was like I’d physically climaxed during the night — had I? — but needed more. Needed so much more.
The memory of Nash’s mouth on me caused me to roll onto my side and pull a pillow to my chest. That mouth. Tongue. Fingers. It was magic.
The last guy I dated went down on me in his dorm room, but it had been an uncomfortable affair involving a lot of flicking and jabbing of tongue. It felt good at first, but after a minute or so, everything south of my naval went numb.
He didn’t last long. Literally and figurately.
Poke. Poke. Grunt.
And it was over.
I’d always heard that college men were in their sexual prime, but damn, if that was prime… geesh. It was those experiences that didn’t make dating worth the bother. And with Jaz and Mee-maw in such close quarters, I couldn’t exactly take care of any sexual longings myself. So it was just better to shut it all down, hang a “closed” sign on my underwear.
But my vagina wasn’t out of order now. That girl had stirred to life something fierce. If it had been a lioness, it would roar.
I smiled at the mental image and picked up my phone, pulling it off the charger. There was a text message.
Nash: Last night was fun, my delicious girl. I’ll pick you up Friday at five. Tiny bikini mandatory. Other clothes optional.
I curled into a ball, then stretched and began to type.
Me: Hmm… I have one pressing question. Should I expect boxers or briefs on you? Or speedos?
Nash: Speedos of course. Leather. With sequins.
I laughed and curled into a ball again.
Me: Fancy. No neon lights?
Nash: They short out in the water. Quite frightening to Godzilla.
I snorted.
Me: Godzilla? Think much of yourself, huh?
Nash: I just call ‘em like I see ‘em. I’ll introduce you Friday if you want.
I wanted, all right.
Me: He sounds dangerous.
Nash: He is. And he has no fear. He’ll invade unknown territory. Conquering everything he sees.
This was getting out of my league. We were heading into sexting territory, I knew. And although the idea of talking dirty to Nash was exciting, I wasn’t sure what to say next.
Invade me, baby?
I’ve got a cave he might want to explore?
I groaned. I was such a dweeb.
Before I could type out a stupid response, my phone pinged in my hand. I had another text. But it wasn’t from Nash this time.
Grant: I’m looking forward to seeing you at eleven.
My vagina pulsed.
“Down gir
l,” I muttered and pressed my thighs together, closing it down.
Me: I’m looking forward to seeing you too. Shall I bring anything?
It was funny. With Grant, I felt myself morphing into someone more elegant. With Nash, I felt myself morphing into a sassy slut. Both were fun. Exciting.
My phone pinged again.
Nash: Oooonly if that territory wants to be conquered, of course.
I smiled. I’d waited too long to reply, and he was clearly making it known that I wouldn’t be forced into anything. I appreciated the gesture.
Another text came through.
Grant: Only your beautiful self.
I had to look back to see what he was referring to. I clearly wasn’t a good texting juggler. Dear God, please guide my thumbs and lead me not into texting darkness. And forgive me in advance for breaking the majority of the commandments this week.
Selecting Nash’s thread, I typed: Don’t worry. I’ll bar the gate if necessary.
I went back to Grant’s thread: I’m excited. Anything specific I should wear?
I had no idea what to expect.
My phone pinged twice, one right after the other.
Nash: Speaking of gate. I’m at the airport. See you Friday.
Grant: Wear something you’re comfortable walking around in.
Me to Nash: Safe travels. By the way… I don’t even know your last name.
Me to Grant: Comfortable it is. See you soon.
Two more pings. This was actually really exciting.
Nash: Just call me Prince Nash Consuela Banana-Hammock
I laughed and replied: So… it IS a speedo!
I switched over to Grant.
Grant: Yes. Soon.
The men were so different. And I liked them both, distinct personalities and all.
Grant was dark and dangerous.
Nash, light and easygoing.
Yes. I liked them both.
Immensely.
There was only one ping this time.
Nash: Find out Friday. Going dark. See you then.
I set down my phone and covered my face with my hands, smiling into my palms.
This was exactly what I needed. Fun. Excitement. Especially now, with Jaz gone. The timing couldn’t have been any more perfect.
The apartment was quiet and brightly lit by the morning sun. It was only nine, and I had plenty of time to get ready for my date with Grant.
It was a date, I decided. It wasn’t charity because I simply refused to believe that a man like him would go through all this trouble if he only saw me as some unfortunate person he needed to take under his wing.
Throwing my duvet back, I rolled from the bed and made my way down the stairs. I looked at Jasmine’s neatly made bed, and a pang hit me. I hoped she was having fun.
One of the goals of the camp was to encourage independence. Jaz had full access to her phone, but so far… things had been silent.
According to my app, she had made it to camp. And I had to admit, I was a little hurt when she didn’t immediately text to let me know she’d arrived.
But this was good. This was the goal. Independence.
I spent the next two hours primping and trying on clothes, much as I’d done yesterday. I settled on a pair of pinstriped shorts in a silky linen fabric I’d found steeply discounted at Macy’s. With it being so warm, I topped it with a floaty off the shoulder white blouse that billowed around me like a dream.
I selected my favorite pair of wedge sandals. I loved wedges because they were so comfortable I could wear them all day. And since I was in sneakers most of the week, the sandals made me feel more feminine.
With the white, I chose chunky turquoise jewelry, but only on my ears and wrists. I was a less was more kind of person, and the matching necklace seemed to detract from the lines of the blouse more than anything. So after putting it on and taking it off several times, I tossed it into the jewelry box and closed the lid.
I was in the middle of pulling my hair up and taking it down, when a knock on the door surprised me. A glance at the clock told me Grant was early. Not much, just ten minutes. But in frantic girl-getting-ready-time, those few minutes were precious.
“Coming!”
Tossing a hair band into the hobo bag I decided to carry, I knew I could always pull my hair back later if it got to be too much.
I opened the door, and nearly groaned out loud. It was Charlie Jr.
Crap. Why hadn’t I looked?
“Your bike is broken.”
Without another word, he turned away and went trudging down the stairs.
Oh no.
“Thanks,” I called out and grabbed my keys, stuffing my phone into my bag before locking the door.
Charlie was standing in his doorway as I went past. “You look pretty.”
I murmured another, “Thank you,” and shoved outside. And sure enough… my bike was in ruins.
It felt like a personal assault. As if someone had hurt me physically instead of just some inane object made of metal. My stomach churned as I moved closer. Of the four bikes in the rack, only one was destroyed. Mine. Jasmine’s pink three-wheeled one appeared to be fine, thank goodness.
My purple and white bike was in three pieces now. The front wheel was still chained to the rack, but the metal was completely bent, the spokes sticking out, the tire flat with a number of gouges. The back wheel looked the same and had been tossed farther down the sidewalk. The body of the bike had been badly beaten.
I felt eyes on me and looked up to find Charlie standing at the door. Had he done this? And if so, why? Or was this just a random act of some purple hater, and my bike had just been in the path?
If there was a blessing in this, it was that I was glad it wasn’t Jaz’s bike. Her bike was specially fitted for her, the three wheels giving her extra stability as she rode through the streets. And it was much more expensive than mine. I’d often thought we were taking a risk by parking it outside, but there wasn’t a good option. It was simply too heavy to carry up the steps every day.
“What happened?”
I jumped, having not heard anyone approach as I accessed the damage.
Damn. Why did Grant have to witness this? Was I forever going to be that girl who needed to be pitied?
But when I looked up at him, there was no pity in his expression. He was pissed.
I looked back up to the door, but Charlie was gone.
“Vandals,” I muttered.
There was nothing more that I could do except unbolt the tire and toss the thing in the nearby dumpster around the corner. I found the correct key and was about to do just that when Grant’s hand came down on my shoulder.
“I’ll have it taken care of.”
“But—”
The muscles in his jaw were tight. I couldn’t exactly see them beneath the growth of beard, but I could tell. “Leave it.”
This was a man who was used to giving orders. A man who was used to being listened to. But as I looked at the wreckage of my bike, I nodded. Not to appease him, but it would be nice to not have to deal with it myself.
“Thank you.”
His hand came to my lower back, hot and heavy through the thin material of my blouse. “Do you have everything you need?”
I hitched my bag higher onto my shoulder and dropped the keys inside. “Yes. I’m ready.”
Wayne was by the back door, a scowl on his face as we approached. I sensed a silent communication between the two men, and Wayne nodded and opened the door. “Good morning.”
I smiled as best as I could manage. “Good morning.”
But as we drove away, there was a flick of the Gains’s apartment curtain. I shivered.
“Are you okay?”
I turned to face the man beside me. “Yes. It was just a surprise to find things like that.”
His hand moved across the console between us and covered mine. “It felt… intentional.”
Yes. It did.
“Or maybe it wasn’t,” I reasoned. “M
ine was on the outside of the rack. Maybe the vandal got interrupted or something before he damaged the others.”
He squeezed my fingers, and I looked down to see how his hand completely covered my own. I felt so small with him. Protected.
Not that I needed protecting.
I thought of Charlie.
Or maybe I did.
“What will you do?”
I’d just been considering that. “I can walk or take Jazzy’s bike until I get a replacement.” I forced a bright smile onto my face. “Don’t worry. It will be fine. It always is.”
He turned my hand until my palm was facing up in the cradle of his own. He seemed to study the lines there, then traced them with his finger. “I admire your outlook on life.”
I didn’t know what to say, so I said nothing. We sat in an emotionally comfortable silence, but I was becoming more and more uncomfortable physically. His finger had moved to my wrist and traced the blue veins near the surface. The touch seemed to have a direct line to my groin, and I squirmed in my seat.
“Am I making you uncomfortable?”
“Yes…” I answered honestly. “But please don’t stop,” I added quickly when he began to move away.
“I like touching you.”
It was suddenly hard to breathe. I licked my lips and lowered my eyes to watch his finger begin its journey up my forearm. “You have very big hands.”
He laughed, and the tension was broken. “The better to touch you with, my dear.”
My heart was knocking in my chest when I turned my head to look at him. Be brave. “You have very big lips.” He smiled, laughter in his eyes, and I realized how that sounded. “I mean, not big-big. They’re actually very nicely shaped but not overly large. It’s not like you’re a puffer fish or anything.”
God. I just needed to shut up.
Grant’s entire body was shaking from barely suppressed laughter. With his free hand, he wiped at the corner of his eye before looking over at me. Then, he puffed his lips out, smacked them together, and it was over. I was laughing too.
And it was exactly what I needed.
The next few minutes of the ride to the airport was ridiculous, with me telling all the fish jokes I could remember hearing from Jaz.
“Do you like fishing?” I asked, and the good humor seeped away from his expression. Not completely, but it dimmed.