Ballistic

by K. S. Adkins

  “Always, little momma. Always.”

  That night, like every night, I threw caution to the wind. I was reckless and I was stupid. The next morning when I stumbled back to my room, it took three hours of vomiting and self-loathing for me to recover. What was I looking for? Why couldn’t I stop hurting myself like this? Why couldn’t I love myself? Why am I so fucking unlovable?

  I needed his cock so badly. I was aching for it. For the first time in my life, I physically need to be close to someone else. To him. The fact that it’s him at all, the guy with an agenda who probably doesn’t care about me one way or the other, isn’t even slowing me down. He’s more than I thought he was though. He’s intense, loyal and sexy as sin. He’s throwing me for loop after loop and I like it. Apparently, that’s enough. But that’s not entirely true either. He looked out for Jules on Max’s behalf, which was sweet. His journey of vengeance is to get peace and give Venessa a life. He bought me flowers, took me on a date and he told me I was beautiful.

  No one has ever said those words to me and meant them, not even my parents. I knew if I ever met the person that was honest with me, I’d make a fool of myself. Right now, straddling his lap in his car I don’t even care how big of a fool this makes me. He has no idea what the truth, his truth, means to me or what he’s coming to mean to me.

  Riding his lap, he grabs my ass, assisting me with rocking back and forth. Do I want to fuck in a car? Yes. For him I’d fuck anywhere at any time, even with an audience. It’s not about the location, it’s about the connection. I’ve never felt connected to someone in my life. Our faces are almost glued together. His tongue and mine are fighting for space in each other’s mouths. Until him, I wasn’t much for kissing. Kissing implied connection and I didn’t want to be any more connected than necessary. Reaching my arm down and finding the recline control, I lean him back, move the seat as far back as it will go. Sitting back up, I unbuckle his jeans, then balance myself on my feet high enough that he can slide his pants off. Sitting back down, I tear his shirt off while he unzips the back of my dress. Taking him in my hands I play with him, work him in the same fashion as he worked me at The Whitney.

  I’d give anything to suck him hard right now, but there isn’t the room or the time. I need him buried fast, hard and on repeat. Rubbing myself on him, I realize I could come just like this and not give one shit. But I feel like I’ve waited forever for this and by keeping him pinned he can’t leave me again.

  “Lina,” he groans while slowly slipping my strap from its resting place on my shoulder. “Fuck, I knew you would feel good.”

  Biting his lower lip extremely hard, I remind him of my rule. “No talking.” Before he can protest, I sit up just enough to line him up with me and I literally drop down on him, impaling myself, burying him deep inside me.

  He continues saying fuck over and over and I decide to allow it. Because he’s right. “Fuck” sums up what I’m feeling nicely. Attacking my neck, throat and nipples with his mouth, I make room to do the same, all while bouncing up and down on him then slowing down to a deep grind. His hands knead my ass, making his own rhythm so I follow, applying pressure here and squeezing there. My own orgasm approaches fast and I tell him as much with my moans. Suddenly, he sits us up and starts thrusting upwards harder and faster.

  The only command I could give was “harder,” and though I didn’t think it was possible, he delivered.

  Clutching the grab handle above, I use it to hold myself up so he can continue railing me. Praying it doesn’t break and not really caring if it did, I feel his body tighten up preparing to let go. I let go of the handle and of myself. Part of me wants to ask him for the fear I usually need to bring me a true release. To be choked, squeezed and afraid is my usual vice, but this is coming on too fast for me to stop it. Bringing all of my weight back down on top of him he grabs the large globes of my ass with both hands and buries his tongue inside of my mouth, causing us both to explode in unison. Vaguely I can feel my body hitting the steering wheel and the horn going off based on our rhythm, but it doesn’t stop what’s happening inside of me.

  Let the neighbors be jealous. I really didn’t give a fuck, because this orgasm is like nothing I have ever experienced. It blisters through me giving me such bliss, my body melts on top of his and all I can do is kiss and lick every inch of exposed skin within reach. He continues rocking me over him slowly while he comes down from his own release. He bites my shoulder then sucks it to relieve the sting. Resting my head on his shoulder, he makes no attempt to move and I don’t either. I just had a non-pain induced orgasm and I liked it. No, I loved it and I was terrified of it too.

  My legs start falling asleep and I make an effort to move. It’s so quiet all I can hear is the crinkle of the leather seat as I try to readjust. Sitting up and looking down at him, I can’t read his expression at all. He doesn’t look happy, upset or as relaxed as I feel. He looks well, pissed.

  So much for my revelation because, right now he looks like he wants to choke me and, as usual, my timing blows. Now I’m stuck here wondering how I managed to fuck this one up.

  Stumbling home drunk I knew my mother would be pissed if she caught me. I’m legal, hell I’m twenty-one years old, but in my mother’s eyes, I’m still a boy. Quietly opening the door, my date trips and busts out laughing. My attempts to quiet her fell flat because I was laughing too. When the lights come on we both crash into each other being quiet and respectful forgotten.

  “Anthony,” my mother scorns me.

  “Your name’s Anthony?” my date asks, laughing. “Good to know.”

  “Who is this girl on my kitchen floor?”

  Struck dumb, I didn’t have an answer. “What’s your name?” I ask her

  “Does it matter?” she asks, winking at me.

  Looking up at my mother, I felt ashamed of myself. “Yeah it matters,” I tell her helping her up.

  “Dates over, huh?” she asks, looking bored,

  “Yes, it’s over,” my father said, joining us. “I’ve called you a cab,” he said, leading her to the door. “You can wait for it on the porch.”

  Before I could do anything, the both came in and made me feel even worse. “I raised you to be a gentleman at all times, Anthony,” she said, crossing her arms. “You thought you could bring a strange girl here and what? Have sex with her in your damn bedroom?”

  “Vera,” Dad said, sitting her down. “Let me.” Walking over, he gets in my face, which is a first. “You court a lady, you get to know a lady, you treat a lady like you would want your mother treated. You do not,” he growls, “bring them home to use and discard. That is not who I raised you to be.”

  Dropping my head in shame I whisper, “I’m sorry, Pop.”

  “Do not apologize to me,” he yells. “You apologize to your mother and to the stranger on our fucking porch!”

  He storms off and I struggle to look at my mother. “You will meet her someday, Anthony,” she said, walking to the hall. “Is this the past you want her to know about? When she asks about it, is this what you’d proudly share?”

  Knowing she’s right once she’s upstairs, I walk out onto the porch to see the girl off safely, but she’s already gone. Whoever she was.

  Walking into the kitchen we both look well fucked. My pants are undone, my shirt is torn and my hair feels like it was electrocuted from her hands being in it. Her dress is falling off, her hair is rumpled and her lips are swollen from our kissing. I want her again, right here on the table, but I don’t act on it. I promised her a gentleman and I broke that promise all because she gave me that look. Granted, she didn’t seem to care, but I do. I’ve never had sex in a car, let alone sex like that anywhere.

  What just happened was hands down the best sex of my life. In my god damned car. I feel like I’ve let her down and I don’t know what to do about it. She’s avoiding my eyes, no doubt because I basically ran from my car into the house leaving her to gather her own things and follow me in. Tossing my keys on the counter,
I grab the open bottle of wine in the fridge and grab two glasses. Wanting to explain my anger, but needing some courage, I also grab the cigarettes from the counter and light each of us one.

  Taking hers, she hits it but doesn’t drink the wine I’ve poured for her. We don’t speak because what is there to say? I’m seriously disappointed that despite having amazing sex, I was forbid to speak during it. That’s an issue for me. Yes I had the best orgasm of my life, but the hit my pride took was tremendous. In her eyes I’m like every other guy she’s fucked and I don’t want to be some fucking random to her.

  I simply wasn’t raised like that. Downing my own glass, I reach to refill it when I see her grab her bag and look toward the door. Turning to leave, I grabbed her arm, needing to stop her. “Don’t,” I warn her. “You got what you wanted Lina, now we’ll go to bed.”

  “I’m going to crash somewhere else,” she says, taking her arm back. “We’ll work on the case tomorrow.”

  “This isn’t about the fucking case,” I growl at her. “We’re both tired and when you sleep, you sleep here with me. That’s not negotiable.”

  “What the fuck did I do to warrant this treatment?”

  “I’m allowed to speak now?” I grate out. “We should have a hand signal or a code, so I know when to use my words and when to just use my cock. That’s what you’re used to right? The fuck and run? Just look at you. You just got fucked and now you want to run.”

  Lowering her eyes, I just lose it. “Don’t you fucking go quiet on me, Lina!” I yell throwing my glass into the sink and watching her flinch when it shatters. “You forced me to break a promise! I took you in my car! If we intend to keep doing this I’m going to implement rules of my own! Rule #1,” I say holding up my index finger and getting in her face. “Fuck your god damn rules!”

  Backing up, she looks devastated and whispers in a small voice, “I forced you?”

  “You know damn well you did! Climbing on me, touching me and getting me to break a promise, only to have me remain mute so you can control me? I do not work like that! I’m not them! I wanted you in my bed, under me where I could look at you, tell you what I was feeling and thinking, but you had to have fucking conditions. Never again.” I growl, pushing past her. When I turn back and see she hasn’t moved, I return to the kitchen to take her by the arm, prepared to carry her upstairs if I had to. “Bed,” I growl. “Now.”

  “Yeah, about that. No.”

  “No?” I laugh. “We are going to bed together Lina, do not make the mistake of thinking otherwise. Tied down, sat on or fucking knocked out you will sleep next to me tonight.” When she won’t look at me my heart sinks. Lina doesn’t back away from anything. Staring at my kitchen floor isn’t going to fix this, so I lift her chin, only to see tears in her beautiful eyes. Jerking her head back she attempts to push me away. “You’re crying, why?”

  “Let me go,” she whispers. “I don’t want to be here anymore and I wasn’t crying.”

  “Lina,” I say quietly, trying to pull her back into my arms. “Enough of the games. You’re not leaving.”

  She backhands me across the face, causing me to stumble back two steps. Then she’s in my face all sorts of pissed off. “Watch me,” she spits at me. “If you so much as touch me again, you can solve your own god damn case. Forget me, forget tonight and if you’re lucky, I’ll help you remotely. You, tonight, this…” she says, waving her hands around. “All of it was a mistake. Here’s something else you don’t know about me, Anthony,” she says, opening the door. “I learn from my mistakes. I do not repeat them. Ask around or better yet ask them.”

  Slamming the door behind her, I hear her start her truck, peel out of the driveway and take off. Hanging my head, I realize it’s my own insecurities I have to blame for this. Her having a past isn’t her fault. It’s my fault that I can’t accept it. It’s not lost on me that she doesn’t use my past against me. She’s right though, I am the judgmental one. Grabbing her glass, I down the wine wishing it was something stronger. Sitting in my kitchen, staring out the window, I confess, if only to myself, that I was a total dick. Christ, the look on her face when I accused her of forcing me. She saw the truth of my words but didn’t understand the context. To me, staying silent in order to get inside of her was what I meant. She forced my silence, not the act.

  Shit.

  Pulling my phone out of my pocket and synching the satellite, I see she’s got herself another room. Could she at least stay some place safe? Of all the women in the world, I have to want the one who can’t stay put. Grabbing my keys from the counter, I figure if I’m not allowed to tell her how I’m feeling, I’ll just have to show her.

  But it’s going to have to wait because right now, I’m not in a good place.

  “In the land of the killers, a sinner's mind is a sanctum

  Holy or unholy, only have one homie

  Only this gun, lonely 'cause don't anyone know me

  Yet everybody just feels like they can relate, I guess words are a motherfucker they can be great

  Or they can degrade, or even worse they can teach hate” ~Eminem

  Tossing my bag on the bed, I plug my phone in to charge it, start the shower and decide to wash tonight from my skin. I feel dirty and the only finger pointing is my own. I did this. This was my fault. I knew better, but opened my legs and my heart anyway. Asking him to not speak seemed like a reasonable request at the time, but I’m sure if I asked a group of people they’d all tell me I’m a bitch. I’m so afraid to feel anything good or bad, and in trying to protect myself, I fucked myself. I suppose it’s a good thing I didn’t ask him for the usual treatment. To slap me, to scream at me and to hurt me. I’m thinking that wouldn’t have gone over well. Anthony is a normal guy with normal guy urges. I, on the other hand, am not normal and over the years freaked many of men out when I demanded pain. Christ, I need some balance in my life.

  Do I want to hear him tell me how he’s feeling? I don’t know. Feelings of any kind aren’t something I tamper with. It’s too dangerous for someone like me. I’m not stable when it comes to the truth, I know that. When I give someone my trust and they lie to me, it wrecks me. Hell, look at me now. He told me the truth and I can hardly stand it. It’s better to remain on the outside, free of strong feelings. No relationship equals, no hurt. Shutting the shower off and wrapping my hair in a towel, I turn on my iTunes, plug in my Beats pill and crawl into bed.

  No Harry Connick Jr. for me tonight. Tonight I’ll fall asleep to my ‘heavy shit’ playlist. No feelings, just raw metal, just what I need to forget my fucking life. Worst of all is knowing that I’m going to bed sober, that if it wasn’t for him, I’d be in a bar somewhere carrying on with things as usual.

  On my own fucking terms.

  He said I forced him. He meant it, and feeling betrayed by it, is fucking with me. I’ve never forced myself on anyone. If anything, it’s other’s forcing themselves on me. Sitting up in bed I said ‘fuck it,’ got dressed then grabbed my keys and bag. It was time to get my life back. Climbing into my truck, throwing it in gear and taking off, I make it seven blocks up, pull in, park and open the doors first looking for a stool and then oblivion.

  But I wasn’t there ten minutes before it happened, again. Note to self: find new bars. “What are you doing here?”

  Turning to the voice, I just don’t have it in me to respond, honestly I don’t. “Look at me, Lina,” he says, pulling me toward him. “Is this trip to the stool about Tony?”

  “Go away Julian,” I warn him. “I want to be alone.”

  “No you don’t,” he says, handing me a shot. “If you wanted to be alone you would have grabbed a bottle and stayed in your room. You came here to forget. Because you don’t want to be alone any more than I do.”

  “Someone’s been recording Dr. Phil. You know me so well, do you?”

  “I like to think I know you a little bit,” he says. “What I do know is you take what you hear at face value and sometimes it’s more than truth or lie.
Sometimes that person believes it as truth at that time, but people can be proven wrong. If you say something in anger it’s usually the anger talking. There could be truth there, but usually its fear or misinformation. If I could give you one piece of advice it would be to stop looking so hard for lies in everything. Because that’s what you do and I imagine it’s exhausting.”

  “What are you even doing here? Don’t you have criminals to free?”

  “We aren’t so different,” he says, taking a drink. “I like to forget too, maybe even more than you do.”

  “Any luck?”

  “Not when what I was trying to forget saddles up next to me at the bar, no.”

  Throwing back my shot, I know it is time to go. Attempting to stand, he grabs my arm. “You were here first,” I tell him, moving away. “I’m going to crash and I’m sorry, Julian.”

  “Sorry for what?”

  “That I couldn’t be who you needed me to be, that I’m not normal. Mostly because you’re a decent guy and I don’t do decent.”

  “Christ, Lina you are fucking perfect the way you are. I don’t know what you two have going on but if it’s hurting you, you don’t have to tolerate it. Not for him, not for anyone.”

  “I have to go,” I whisper. “Later, Julian.”

  “Wait,” he says, pulling me between his legs. “I can see it in your eyes, I know what you need. Come home with me tonight and I’ll give it to you.”

  “I can’t do that,” I tell him, trying to remove myself. “We’ve been over this.”

  “I need you Lina, please,” he whispers. “You need me too, we can forget together.”

  “Let go of her,” Anthony says, joining the party. “Now, Julian.”

  “Not again,” I mumble, trying to get out of the way. “Move,” I tell him and he ignores me in favor of eye fucking the competition.

  “Jesus, Tony,” he says, rolling his eyes. “Didn’t you just tell me you didn’t want my leftovers now you’re here, to what? Claim her again? Make up your fucking mind.”