The Troublemaker

by Lili Valente

  “Fuck, Carrie.” Rafe groans as he sinks into where I’m already wet and oh-so-ready, simply from spending a few moments in his erotically charged presence.

  “Yes.” I dig my fingers into the thick muscles of his ass, pulling him closer, deeper, until he fills me completely. “Oh, yes, right there.”

  “God, Trouble, you feel so good.” He pulls out and glides back in again, stroking between my legs as I rock into him, matching his pace. “I dreamt about this all night. About how perfect you are. How you were made for me to fuck you.”

  “So that’s my destiny?” I ask, already breathless. “I wondered if I had one.”

  “You do. And this is it.” His hands slide beneath my bottom, pulling me closer at the end of his next thrust, sending a shockwave of bliss coursing through me as his body grinds against my clit. “Just like this.”

  “Oh yes, like that.” I cling to his shoulders, my pulse racing faster. “Just like that. Don’t stop, please, don’t stop.”

  “I’m not going to stop,” he promises, fingers threading through mine, pinning my right hand to the floor above my head. “Not until you come for me. I need to feel you come on my cock, Caroline. I want your pussy dripping before I come inside you.”

  I arch closer, relishing the way the crisp hairs on his chest brush my sensitized nipples as I climb closer, closer… “I love it when you come in me,” I breathe. “I love watching you lose control.”

  Rafe groans, the need in the sound making my blood pressure spike even before he begins driving deeper, harder, the hand beneath my ass keeping my pelvis tilted so that every stroke gives my clit exactly what she needs. What I need. What I’m so desperate for even after having this man half a dozen times last night.

  God, I don’t know if I’m ever going to get enough of him.

  It’s a scary thought, but I’m too far gone to be afraid of anything. I’m so close, the tension fisting low in my body twisting tighter, tighter, until the pressure reaches critical mass.

  I come with the force of a star being devoured by its own gravity as Rafe calls out my name, making more of those sexy animal sounds that assure me he’s falling right along with me. Falling, flying, shattering into a million particles of stardust that sparkle away into the darkness of space, reflecting light wherever they go.

  I wrap my arms tight around him as we continue to rock together, bodies slick and hot, riding the wave until we’re both limp and wasted, lying boneless on the floor.

  But unfortunately not literally boneless, or my tailbone wouldn’t be aching like someone’s been using it as a punching bag.

  “I truly loved being pinned beneath you, Slick, but I need to get up,” I whisper, pressing a kiss to his neck as I skim my fingers up and down the valley of his spine. “Before my tailbone breaks in half on this hard-ass floor.”

  “Shit. Sorry.” Rafe shifts, lifting his body off of mine, sadly taking his cock with him as he moves.

  I hate to feel it go, but I take comfort in knowing I’m going to make friends with it again very soon. Rafe and I are averaging about every hour and a half at this point, a pace that is completely unsustainable, but which I intend to enjoy for as long as it lasts.

  He stretches out beside me, brushing my tangled hair from my forehead with a guilty grin. “You okay? I didn’t mean to break you.”

  “You didn’t, I’m fine.” I stretch, wincing as I discover more aches and pains. “But I think if fucking you really were my one true purpose, my body wouldn’t be as sore as it is right now.”

  “Not true.” Rafe shakes his head as he reaches for his discarded boxers. “We just need to get your body on something soft as well as under something hard. From now on, we’re fucking in my bed.”

  I arch a brow. “Doesn’t that violate the blanket fort of silence terms of service?”

  “This entire apartment is now annexed into the fort, and we’re not leaving it for twenty-four hours. It’s my last day of staycation, and I intend to make the most of it by keeping you out of your clothes as much as possible.”

  “You’re off to an excellent start,” I say, with a smile. “And that sounds perfect.”

  “Good.” He rubs his hands together, a devilish grin on his face that makes me laugh. “I’ve already put in an order for groceries so we won’t have to worry about going out for food. They’re going to be delivered in about an hour, which gives us just enough time for me to give you a tailbone rub in the shower. If we hurry.”

  “An hour-long tailbone rub?” I shift onto my knees and wrap the sheet around me, tucking it into place above my breasts. “That’s a generous offer.”

  “I’m a generous man.” He leans in, kissing my cheek before whispering in my ear, “But I confess I’m planning to rub other parts of you while we’re in there.”

  “Oh, I would hope so.” I loop my arms around his neck, tilting my head back as he kisses his way down my throat. “All the parts, please.”

  “Every inch,” he promises.

  And he does, every single centimeter, proving he’s a man of his word.

  As I come for the second time this morning, with Rafe’s body hot against my back and the cool tile pressed to my front and steamy water filling the air, I wish I could bottle these memories. I want to distill each one into a perfume I can spritz on for special occasions, mold them into bath bombs I can soak in for hours when I’m back in Berkeley feeling lonely and wondering if I’ll ever be this effortlessly connected to another person again.

  But memories are slippery creatures. The harder we try to pin them down, bottle them up, carve them into stone, the faster they slide through our fingers.

  So I give up on committing every second to memory and let myself get lost in Rafe and all the extraordinary things he makes me feel. This moment may be lost to me someday, but for now, it and this incredible man are all mine.

  Chapter 13

  Six days later…

  From the texts of Carrie Haverford and Rafe Hunter

  Rafe: Just closed the shop and I’m headed out the door. ETA six-thirty.

  Should I pick you up by the berry farm or the cider place?

  * * *

  Carrie: Behind the Murphy bed workshop down the street from the cider place. I think we need to mix it up. The same people walk the trail every evening, and some of them are starting to give me side-eye. They’re either wondering what I’m doing loitering around the same spots every night, or they’ve seen the pictures.

  Maybe both.

  * * *

  Rafe: Any progress on that front? Are the police going to have enough to charge that piece of shit with a misdemeanor?

  * * *

  Carrie: We’re still not sure, but threatening Jordan with legal action has sent him scurrying back into his troll lair, and my new publicist is doing her best to change the conversation. So far, so good, and none of the schools I booked for the fall have cancelled yet, so…

  * * *

  Rafe: That bodes well.

  * * *

  Carrie: It does. Now I just have to wait for the stink to blow over.

  In the meantime, I’ve been trying to get as much work done as possible.

  Though I confess that daydreaming about last night in the waterfall made writing a children’s book with no sex in it difficult today…

  * * *

  Rafe: Fuck… I’ve been thinking about it all day, too.

  The water streaming over your skin…

  The way you were shivering until I warmed you up with my mouth…

  * * *

  Carrie: Stop! I’m already walking to the pickup point.

  If you get me worked up, there’s nothing I can do about it.

  * * *

  Rafe: That reminds me, I’d like to watch you get yourself off.

  Can we put that on our fuck-genda?

  Your fingers between your legs while I play with your nipples?

  * * *

  Carrie: You’re a bad, bad man.

  * * *

&nb
sp; Rafe: I’m not bad. I’m good.

  And I’m going to prove it to you tonight, Haverford.

  I borrowed my friend Cal’s car.

  It’s a 1959 Cadillac Eldorado with a massive back seat.

  * * *

  Carrie: Ooo… Are we going parking?! Like teenagers?

  Will you get me home before curfew?

  * * *

  Rafe: That’s a hard no on the curfew.

  I’m not time’s bitch or anyone else’s, baby.

  * * *

  Carrie: LOL. And yet you’re always on time to pick me up…

  * * *

  Rafe: I won’t be if you don’t stop texting me, so I can get in the car.

  * * *

  Carrie: Done. Get in the car. I want you here ten minutes ago.

  * * *

  Rafe: Me, too. See you soon, Trouble.

  * * *

  Carrie: Can’t wait.

  Chapter 14

  Rafe

  “Can I look now?” Carrie’s knees tap together as I pull off onto the gravel road leading to our final destination, drawing my attention to her thighs and all that soft, creamy skin I can’t wait to get my mouth on as soon as I get her out of her shorts.

  “Not yet,” I say, slowing to keep the wheels from kicking dust into the car. “The surprise is better if you don’t see it coming.”

  She growls softly. “You’re killing me, Hunter. I don’t like surprises. I really don’t.”

  “You’re going to like this one, so keep ’em closed. We’re almost there.” Guiding the Cadillac around piles of old furniture, plywood, clothes mildewing in weathered garbage bags, and the rest of the trash that makes the Tate place look like something from an episode of Hoarders Take on the Great Outdoors, I shift into low gear to make the climb up the hill at the back of the property.

  The Tates were an odd crew, but their tendency to collect strange shit is what makes this place so special. It’s a gorgeous slice of land, ten acres that would be ideal for a hobby farm or a boutique hotel. But so far no one’s put in a bid. The property’s been for sale for years, since the last Tate sister passed, and it’s going to take someone with imagination to see past the cleanup that needs to be done.

  And the general creepiness, I think as we hit the top of the hill and pull past a row of carousel horses stuck into the ground on the side of the drive.

  They’re from several different carousels, and the mismatched bodies and varying degrees of rot send spiders crawling up my spine every time. Even more than the trash heaps, the horses are why I want Carrie’s eyes covered until we get to the cool part of the surprise.

  Better if she doesn’t see what we had to go through to get there until after the fun has been had.

  “What’s that smell?” Carrie lifts her nose into the air.

  “Old logs,” I say, figuring it’s not really a lie. The rotten horses were all logs at one point or another.

  “Smells like my grandmother’s house,” Carrie says. “Her roof leaked all the time. One time I found moss growing on the legs of her coffee table.”

  “We’ll be past it soon.” I turn right, heading toward the clearing at the back of the property.

  “And you promise you’re not driving me out in the middle of the woods so no one will hear me scream while you carve out my kidneys for your kidney collection?”

  I smile. “I don’t have a kidney collection.”

  “You’re a liver man? Lungs? Pancreas? Don’t say intestines, because that’s just disgusting.”

  I reach over, squeezing her thigh. “I have no designs on your organs, just all the skin holding them together.”

  “That’s what they all say.”

  I laugh as I pull into a parking spot in the middle of the field and cut the engine. “Open your eyes, woman. We’re here.”

  Her hands fall to her lap as she blinks fast, her lips parting with a soft gasp as she gets her first glimpse of the giant screen surrounded by redwoods. The trees block the light from the setting sun but allow enough rosy glow through the limbs to make the Tate’s private drive-in feel like something from a fairy tale.

  “Oh, Rafe… It’s incredible.” Carrie turns, taking in the rest of our surroundings. “Where are we? Why isn’t anyone else here?”

  “Technically we’re not supposed to be here, either,” I confess. “The Tates used to let my brothers and me come watch movies whenever we wanted, but they’ve all passed away and the property is up for sale.” I hold up my keys. “But I’ve still got the key to the movie shed, and I know how to load the projector.”

  Her smile is delighted—bright, beautiful, and as unfazed by the fact that we’re trespassing as I’d hoped it would be. “Can I help? I’ve never seen a projector up close before. I want to know how it works.”

  “Sure, come on back.” I swing out of the car and start around to her door, but she’s already out, bounding through the tall grass pushing up from the gravel covering the clearing to grab hold of my hand.

  “Come on.” She tugs me faster toward the red shed at the back of the rows of speakers. “This is not the time for the sexy swagger. You have to learn to walk faster sometimes, like when exciting things are happening.”

  I laugh. “I don’t get in a hurry, Haverford. And we have to wait at least thirty minutes for it to be dark enough to start the show, anyway.”

  “Not if we pick something we’ve seen. Our memories will fill in the blurry parts.”

  “Picking something we’ve seen is probably a given,” I admit. “The Tate’s collection is mostly old horror flicks and every movie ever made about Vietnam, with a few random cartoons and things thrown into the mix.”

  Carrie slows and some of the excitement fades from her expression. “Oh. Well, maybe a cartoon, then? If that’s okay? War movies make me sad, and I confess I’m a huge baby who is terrified by anything scary.”

  I squeeze her fingers with a grin. “Does that mean you’ll be crawling into my lap, begging me to protect you from the chainsaw murderer?”

  She snorts. “It means I’ll be wetting my pants in your friend’s car. Seriously, I’ll have nightmares for weeks if I watch people getting murdered in the middle of the woods while we’re at an abandoned drive-in movie theater in the middle of the woods. My imagination is way too hyperactive to let that slide.”

  “I hear you.” I release her hand as we reach the shed and fit the key into the lock. “There are a couple raunchy eighties comedies in the mix, too. But if we can’t find them, we’ll watch a cartoon. They’ve got Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs and ‘Heigh-Ho’ is a pretty kick ass make out song you know, when you think about it.”

  “You calling me a ho, mister?” She starts to step past me into the musty interior, but I wrap my arm around her waist, pulling her close.

  “Never.” I lean down, brushing my lips softly against hers as I whisper, “But I definitely want you naked in the backseat after the stars come out. I want to fuck you with moonlight in your hair.”

  “That sounds lovely.” She presses onto tiptoe to deepen the kiss, breath hitching as my hand finds its way up her T-shirt to cup her breast. “But maybe we could do a warmup session, first? Just to hold us over until it’s dark?”

  “I think that can be arranged.” I roll her nipple between my fingers as I simultaneously pop the button at the top of her shorts. A moment later, my hand is down the front of her panties and my fingers are pushing inside where she’s wet. And fuck, but it drives me crazy to feel how ready she is for me, to know she’s spent the ride here wanting me as much as I want her.

  “I need to be inside you ten minutes ago, Trouble,” I breathe against her lips as she works open my belt with shaking hands.

  “Yes, please,” she says, as I jerk her shorts down over her ass. The material skims her legs as it falls to the ground, and then I lift her into my arms, urging her legs around me. I shove my jeans and boxers down far enough to free my cock and then she’s there, slick and hot, sinking down onto my suff
ering length.

  But the moment I’m buried inside her, I suffer no more. Bliss sharpened by anticipation cuts through me, severing my ties to everything but this moment, this woman, this pleasure pulsing hot and fast through my veins.

  “Jesus, I missed you.” She clings to my shoulders as I spin us both, leaning her against the wall of the shed, allowing each thrust to glide deeper into the only place my cock wants to be. “Twenty-four hours is too long.”

  “Way too long,” I agree, groaning as she drags her teeth across my jaw. “You should come stay with me until you’re ready to go back to the city.”

  “I can’t. We’d get caught.” She rocks into me with sharper rolls of her hips, showing me how she wants it. And I am, as always, happy to oblige.

  “No, we wouldn’t.” I grip her ass tight in my hands, grinding deep, loving the way she trembles in response.

  “Yes, we—” She breaks off with a moan. “Damn Rafe, I’m already so close.”

  “Me, too. God, baby, you drive me crazy.”

  “Yes,” she gasps, fresh heat rushing from her body to coat my cock, easing my way, giving me the freedom to fuck her harder, faster, until our bodies are slamming together and the sounds of skin against skin and breath coming fast are the only thing I can hear over the thunder of my heart.

  And then Carrie cries out, nails digging into the skin at the back of my neck as she comes, her pussy gripping me tight, refusing to let me go until I answer her pleasure with my own. With a shudder, I let the reins slip through my fingers, surrendering to the wave that sweeps through my body, leveling me with its intensity, its beauty.