Loaded

by Max Henry

  He wove through the graves, following her giggles, and squeals until he felt certain she had no way out without passing him. The yard fell eerily quiet. Pistol steadied his heavy breaths, and squinted into what was fast becoming pitch black. Not a sound to be heard…

  “Love?”

  No answer.

  “Steph?” His panic was evident.

  Still no answer.

  He rounded the tombstone in the corner of the yard, and came up short. Nothing there but a scraggly tree that had seen better days. The rows of headstones blurred in the quarter-light as he spun one way, then the other, trying to spot where she’d gone. No time to panic, old boy. He stilled, gathering his wits enough to close his eyes and draw in a deep breath. Her scent rose from his clothing, warmed by his distress. What if his mother had followed him? What if Steph had been taken? He knew the thoughts were bordering on the neurotic side of paranoid, but the worry still hung around his neck like a noose.

  If anything happens to her…

  Something solid collided with his back, and sent him staggering forwards. He gained his footing, ready to strike whoever was intent on taking him out when the lilt of her gentle laugh eased his mind.

  “You were so worried,” she giggled.

  “It ain’t funny, Love. I thought you’d been taken.”

  Her laughing subsided as he turned to take her in his arms. “Why?”

  “Because that is the shit me mother would do.”

  “You’re serious?” All traces of humour had long gone. Steph’s body grew rigid in his hold, and he eased back to give her the space to breathe.

  “Deadly.”

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

  “Ah, ya weren’t to know.” Way to kill the moment.

  “But you panicked.”

  He scoffed. “I don’t panic.”

  Her small fist socked him in the arm for the second time. “You so did.”

  “Okay, just a little.”

  “It’s kinda cute, you know.”

  “Cute?” He did not do cute.

  “Yeah, that you were so worried about me.”

  “It was not cute.” He stepped toward her, taking her face in his hands.

  “So what was it then?” Came her breathy response.

  “Protective, possessive, primal. Anything but fuckin’ cute.”

  She moaned as he sealed his lips over hers, showing her just how damn possessed he was by her. For less than a full minute he’d thought she’d been snatched, taken away from him, and put in danger. And it had ripped him a new one. What the fuck would he do if she had been put at risk? How animal could he get?

  He hoped they’d never need to know.

  Steph wound her hands into the fabric of his shirt, tugging him further into her as though it were possible to do so. He wrapped an arm around her waist, pressing on the soft, silky textures of her blouse, and underwear to settle her into every crook of his body. If he could bloody well melt the woman down and bathe in her, he would.

  “You’re still going to be late for work,” she admonished.

  He gently laid his index finger over her top lip, and thumb below her chin, pressing together. “Sshh. Stop talking, and I won’t miss opening.”

  The set of her jaw hardened, and he gasped as her hand pushed between them to take his jewels in a firm hold ... and twist.

  “Jesus.” His eyes drew closed as he relished the heavenly mix of pain, and sexually charged endorphins.

  “I don’t appreciate being told to shut-up.”

  “I see,” he groaned. “I might do it more often though if that’s how you get.”

  “You like pain?” she asked, surprised.

  All he managed to force through the thickening walls of his throat was a pathetic whimper. Steph laughed, and twisted again as her lips pressed against his neck. The woman was a pure goddess of fucked-up love once she let herself off that tight chain of hers. Damn, he needed to find a way to get her over to the dark side more often. His cock twitched as her teeth grazed his throat. The woman certainly knew how to make sure they were going to be quick.

  “Get on the ground before I fuckin’ kick ya legs out from under ya.”

  Steph fell to the grass, hands still wound in his shirt. He tumbled with her, managing to brace his fall, his face mere inches from hers. “You going to show me who’s boss?”

  He chuckled at her question. “Love, ya already know that.”

  “Do I? Perhaps you better remind me.”

  “Blouse, off, now.”

  Her breasts pressed deliciously into his chest as she squirmed below him, wrestling the fabric from her arms. The heave of her curves told him all he need to know about the state of her arousal.

  “I bet ya dripping for me aren’t ya Cutie?”

  She simply groaned.

  “Panties, off.”

  The torturous squirming resumed once more as the lace joined the silk.

  “Spread.”

  Steph whipped her legs wide like an Olympic gymnast on the rings; hands over her head.

  “Even in the dark I can see how fuckin’ amazin’ you look.”

  “It’s so much better from where I am.”

  He growled, and claimed her mouth. “I told ya to shut it.” He trapped her wrists in his hand before she could assail him again. “Don’t even think of it.” He lost himself in her heady kiss.

  Out of nowhere a freed hand collected him clean across the side of the face. “I said I don’t like being told to shut up.”

  “I hope ya like it hard, because that’s the only way ya gettin’ it after that.”

  The smack of lips gave away her indecision to speak.

  “Cat got ya tongue?”

  A snort shook her glorious chest, drawing his gaze to the shadow of her body stretched beneath him. He took hold of his rigid cock with the hand not bearing his weight, and ran his tip through her slick folds. She moaned, and stirred, but still didn’t speak. Pistol continued to tease, running over the sensitive apex, and back over her opening, dipping ever so slightly into the quivering muscles before flicking free of her heat.

  Steph pushed her hips higher, ground harder, and arched her back clear off the grass, but still said nothing. He ceased teasing, and grinned at her in the darkness.

  “Fuck me already!”

  He laughed. So easy to break. Her core welcomed his intrusion greedily—her muscles sucking him in as he thrust. “Like that?”

  “Oh, god yes,” she moaned. “Hard, do it hard.”

  “Cutie wants, Cutie gets.”

  He slammed home repeatedly, gritting his teeth at the glorious feel of his sensitive head ramming deep within her walls. So welcoming. So tight. So his.

  Steph panted, and squirmed. Her nails dug a trail into his flesh as she literally climbed his body, seeking that little extra to tip her over the edge. He moved both hands to take his weight under her hips, and used the narrowed grip to zero each thrust in with a new intensity.

  “Fuck, Pete. Fuck!”

  “That’s it, Love. Scream like no-one can hear ya.”

  He shuddered his release as she caterwauled under him, cursing, and crying his name into the still night air.

  Like nobody would have heard that.

  A grin spread across his face, set to stay until he received that exact reaction all over again.

  Steph followed Pete into Atonia, a flush still colouring her cheeks from the interlude they’d had on the way over. Gary smiled knowingly as they passed him by, and her chin fell to her chest like it was magnetised in an attempt to hide her embarrassment. The mirrors on the rod weren’t that reliable for checking she didn’t have any shrubbery stuck at awkward angles in her hair, and she didn’t entirely trust Pete when he said she looked fine. She still couldn’t believe she’d not only let him screw her senseless in a graveyard, but that she’d also willingly let him chase her around half dressed.

  Something came over her: the cool night air perhaps, or the eerie sense of solitude in
such a place. Whatever it was, she’d felt secure in a bubble that was just him, and nothing else. All her stresses with Ivan, and the memories it had scratched into re-opened wounds, were forgotten. In his bubble, she didn’t have troubles with his mother. She didn’t have troubles with her friends. Nobody gave two hoots what they were up to, because nobody knew what they did.

  Her light mood quickly soured as she followed Pete into the staffroom behind the service area. A light had gone off in her head, and she realised seclusion was the source of the problem with their ‘relationship’. Despite it all, it was as though she still tried to hide him away from everyone in case they didn’t approve. They never went anywhere with other people; she didn’t even know if he had any friends outside this place. The bubble worked both ways. It kept the bad out, but it also kept her in. He kept her to himself, and she fed the behaviour in the fear others wouldn’t approve.

  Only one way to find out if they did.

  “Pete?”

  “Love?” He looked at her with a glint still in his eye.

  “I want you to meet my parents.”

  He stared at her, blank as a fresh page.

  “Do you not want to?” she asked.

  “Are ya sure?”

  “It seems the next logical thing to do, is all.” Maybe she was asking too much, too soon. Maybe it was too ‘house’ to be doing it already. What if he was worried she’d be planning their wedding next? “Would it be easier to meet my brother?”

  Pete laughed, shaking his head. “Whoever you think, Love. Point me in the direction, and I’ll go to whatever ya set up.”

  “I don’t want you thinking I’m ashamed of you, or anything. That’s all.”

  He drew her into a firm hug, and muttered in her hair. “I think we both know I’m not worried about that. The timing isn’t exactly perfect, is it?”

  “I guess not,” she agreed. “Maybe later then.”

  “Like I said, Love. Whenever you want.”

  Why did he have to be so damn cryptic? Was this his way of saying no, he wasn’t ready to be so involved in her life? Or that he was, but wanted to be sure she wasn’t making a rash decision? Talk about mind fuck. Later, she’d work it all out later.

  “Evening, Boss.”

  A young, female voice behind her broke the moment, allowing the perfect distraction to an otherwise awkward situation. She half-turned, and greeted the short girl with a smile.

  “Janie,” Pete nodded at the girl. “This is Steph.”

  “Hi, Janie.” She held out her hand, noting the wary way the girl eyed her.

  “I recognise you … I think.” Janie narrowed her gaze as she shook Steph’s hand. “You’ve been here before I suppose.”

  “Yeah, that’s probably all it is.” Please don’t remember the night I fought off the sleaze.

  “Steph’s going to be hangin’ out in here tonight while I’m on shift. If she asks for anythin’, I want ya to give it to her.”

  “Sure.” The girl opened a locker, and absently replied as she stuffed her bag into the narrow space.

  “Yes, Pete. Of course I will,” he mocked. “I don’t want any of the second-rate service ya dish to the patrons, you understand?” Pete scowled at the girl, who nodded.

  “Good. Now get on it. There’s racks to be emptied out front.”

  Steph bounced her eyes between the two of them. The tension was palpable. “Christ, Pete.” She crossed her arms in defence. “I’m not royalty. Take it easy on her.”

  “She knows her place around here.” He growled as he stalked past Janie who looked fit to burst into tears.

  “I’m sorry,” Steph offered as she rushed after Pete. She shut the staffroom door behind her, and moved next to him at the bar. “What the hell was that?”

  He turned from his position at the till to glare at her. “She’s that fuckin’ useless that perhaps if she treats ya like royalty, she might get at least half of it right.”

  “I don’t need waiting on, you know.”

  “Fine. Suit yourself.” He glanced to the counter, and shoved a stack of coasters aside on a sigh. “I’m sorry, Love. I guess I’m still on edge thinking about what would happen if me mother did get to ya.”

  “That’s no reason to take your frustrations out on Janie.”

  He laughed. “Agh, I would’ve done that anyway. She really is useless.”

  Steph chose to ignore his constant degrading of the girl. “Are you truly that worried about your mum?”

  He nodded, and picked up a bottle opener. “Aye.”

  She closed the space between them, and laid a hand on his chest. “You can’t live a ‘what-if’ life, Pete. I’m not going to have you wrap me up in cotton wool, just in case.”

  He shook his head. “And I wouldn’t. But you can’t stop me doing my best to keep ya safe.”

  She cringed at the pure pain scrawled into his features while he spoke. The thought of her coming to harm quite literally tore him in two, and she could only guess it related back to emotions linked to his brother.

  “I won’t put myself at risk, Pete. Try to relax. We’re at the bar. What could happen?”

  “Everything.”

  ***

  Pete had finished set-up in silence, brooding over things that hadn’t happened, and rather than try to flog a dead horse, she had thought it best to leave him be. The sound of music, and rowdy patrons now filtered through the door every time Pete or Janie whipped through to gather supplies for the bar. She’d spent the first few hours browsing the channels on a small TV that sat at the far end of the kitchenette counter. But there were only so many re-runs of the same infomercial she could take before she lost the plot.

  Steph found a stack of old magazines buried under a couple of boxes of Styrofoam cups in the staffroom, and picked out half a dozen less dog-eared, and stained copies. Nestled into the short, slightly torn couch, she flicked through the pages; equal parts amused, and shocked at the tabloid gossip from years gone by. The door swung open, and the tail-end of a heated argument pulled her from a best-dressed list of celebrities. She looked across the room to catch Janie slump against the lockers.

  “Busy night?”

  The young girl glanced her way, and nodded. “Yeah. There’s a bus load of league boys being a pain in the ass.”

  Steph laughed. “Living up to their stereotype, huh?”

  “That they are.” Janie moved to a chair, and sat with her elbow propped on the tabletop.

  “Was he being rude again?” Steph nodded toward the door.

  “What do you mean?”

  She cocked her head to the side, and gave the girl a ‘don’t-try-me’ look. “I heard the commotion as you came through.”

  “Must’ve been the league boys.” Janie shrugged as she inspected her nails.

  “They Irish too?”

  The girl’s head whipped about.

  “Come on,” Steph urged, sitting forward. “Tell me. Is he always this hard on you?”

  “I guess I deserve it most of the time. I mean, I constantly spill drinks, mix orders. Shit, the other night I served an underage kid.”

  “We all make mistakes.”

  “Yeah, but I make so many.”

  “Do you think that you’d be better if he didn’t have you so nervous?”

  The girl eyed her carefully, deciding if she could trust the hand that fed her. “I guess. But what can you do about it?”

  “Ah, you underestimate the power of a woman.” She winked.

  Truthfully? She didn’t have a clue what she could do, but if Pete picked on the girl for no known reason, she’d be sure to dig out the source of the problem. It had never been her place to walk away when a person was in need. Isn’t that the truth? Why else would she be here, waiting on a self-confessed murderer to get off work?

  “Well, good luck with that,” Janie scoffed.

  She opened her mouth to ask about the girl’s family, how she got the job, get her to open up, and hopefully relax. It snapped shut with a smac
k of the lips as Pete stuck his head through the door.

  “If ya over ya little hissy-fit, I need a pair of hands out here, no matter how useless they are.”

  Janie’s lips twitched, and a look of utter resignation drowned her otherwise soft features.

  “I’ll do it.”

  Both faces turned her way.

  “What? You said you didn’t care how useless they were. Besides, I’m bored reading this stuff.” Steph ruffled the magazines at her side.

  Pete drew a heavy sigh, and looked in turn between the women. “I don’t have time to argue this shite. Sort it out between yourselves—I’ve got people who need a drink.”

  He promptly disappeared, the sound of the rowdy bar dulling as the door pressed shut.

  “How did you meet Pete?” Janie asked.

  “Why do you ask?” Steph’s curiosity got the better of her.

  Janie shrugged. “You just don’t seem his type, is all.”

  “Aren’t I? What is his type?” She rose from the couch, and headed for a mirror tacked to the lockers.

  “Easy, loud, pretty. Not that you aren’t pretty, I mean, you’re stunning, I meant—” She waved a dismissive hand. “—never mind.”

  “I guess I should be glad I don’t look easy.” Steph glanced at Janie in the reflection, and smiled.

  “Yeah, sorry. I speak before I think sometimes. It’s just, you seem real nice and Pete, well he’s …”

  “An asshole at times?”

  “Exactly.” The girls face lit up with the joy of finding somebody who finally understood. “He’s so bossy, so demanding.”

  “I know.”

  “How do you manage with it?”

  Steph looked to her hands as she wound circles in her hair. “I guess the way he’s bossy with me is a little different, if you catch my drift.”

  “Right.” Janie drew out the word. “Sometimes I simply wish I knew what I did to make him hate me.”

  “Maybe you should ask him?”

  The girl stared wide-eyed at Steph as she blotted the smudged makeup under her eyes. “Are you kidding?”

  Steph shrugged.

  “Oh my god, you’re not. He’d have a go at me if I asked him something like that.” She drew a stern face, and put on her best Irish accent. “Ya mean to say you don’t know why you’re such a fuckin’ idiot? Why I can’t stand the sight of ya?”