Leave a Trail

by Susan Fanetti

  “No wait—Badger, wait. I’m not—I’m not scared. I’m just—I’m sad. I’m so sad for you. I can’t think of how that must have hurt. Please don’t go.” She was crying.

  Fuck! Everything was wrong. He would never have anything like this, like her. Ever.

  But then she grabbed his arm. “Don’t go. Please.”

  “You deserve more than this. Than me.”

  She didn’t answer. Instead, she reached back, unhooked her bra, and drew it from her shoulders. While he was stunned to stillness by the mesmerizing beauty of her body, she stepped up close and rose up on her toes. She looped her arms around his neck, pressing herself tightly to his body, her perfect skin on his deformity. She laid her cheek on his chest.

  In the background, somebody on the television screamed.

  He brought his hands to hook around her sides, over her ribs, intending to push her off. But she felt so good. He couldn’t feel the press of her body against his scar, not the swell of her breasts on him, but still he could feel her everywhere else. He could feel her inside, making his heart thump. She turned her head and kissed his chest.

  “Adrienne.” The break in his nose compounded by the turmoil in his heart made his voice sound gruff and strange to his own ears, almost mechanic.

  She tipped her head back and looked up at him. Her hair swayed softly and brushed over his hands.

  She’d seen the worst of him—body and soul, she’d seen the worst. And what he saw in her vivid blue eyes was not fear or revulsion. He recognized exactly what he saw.

  “Adrienne, I love you.”

  Her smile was sweet and sincere. “I love you, too.”

  As he bent down to kiss her, he slid his hands down her sides and over her hips, clutching her thighs and pulling her up off the ground. Without hesitation, she circled his hips with her legs, the flowing skirt she still wore wrapping around them both. He walked back to the bed.

  Putting his knee on the mattress, he laid her down and followed right after to lie over her, shifting a little to the side so that he wouldn’t crush her, and so he could touch her. When his hand came around and cupped her breast—small in his palm, but pert, tipped with a pink nipple standing erect—she arched way up, pushing herself hard into his hand, and she tore her mouth from his with a cry.

  “Wait!” Her word was nothing but a breath.

  At once, he moved his hand from her and pushed it instead into the mattress, propping himself up farther, lifting his wrecked chest completely away. “I’ll stop. I’m sorry.”

  “No, don’t stop. I just need to go a little slower, okay? My head is…” She shook her head. “Doesn’t matter. Just slower. But not stopping.”

  The movie was over and had started playing the menu screen on a loop. Badger reached over for the remote and turned it off. “Okay. Slow as you want. Are you okay?”

  “I’m with you. So yeah.” She brought her hands to his head and combed his hair out so that it draped around them, closing them off. He leaned down and kissed her, moving his hand to rest on her hip. Her hipbone was sharp on his palm.

  Kissing Adrienne made his chest hurt in a wonderful way. Her tongue was small and silky, and she was not shy at all. She sucked and nipped and licked, making sweet little sounds as if she thought he was delicious. And she definitely was. He wanted to taste all of her. So he finally tore himself away from her pretty mouth. He kissed the dimple in her chin and then worked his way along her jawline and down her neck. She smelled and tasted perfect. Not like flowers or fruit. Just like her, but it was perfect. And so much of her skin was touching him.

  Never before had he felt like this. He’d lost his virginity in the clubhouse. He’d never been with anybody but club girls. Adrienne was the only civilian he’d ever kissed, and, until tonight, he’d never done more than kiss her. He’d never even kissed her anywhere but her lips. And now she was under him, her breath so heavy that every inhale brought her tighter to him, her hands clutching at his shoulders. It was as if she had forgotten what he looked like, as if it really didn’t matter. He didn’t know if he could stand to go slow for much longer.

  Needing more touch, he moved his hand carefully back to her breast and held it again. Again, she arched into his palm, but this time she didn’t cry out. This time, she moaned and flexed her hips, still covered in yards of skirt. She ground lightly against his thigh, and he had to stop and rest his forehead on her collarbone for a second. When he brushed his thumb over the hard little pebble of her nipple, she jumped and whimpered, and he had to taste her.

  He moved down, kissing and licking over her collarbone and her shoulder, brushing his beard lightly over the tender skin at the join of her arm and her chest until she squirmed. The experience of her supple body writhing against him, in his hands, was indescribable. His cock strained inside his jeans, and he flexed his hips against her thigh.

  In response, her leg slid between his and pressed hard to his groin, and he thought he’d die. Then he took her breast into his mouth, and he was sure of it.

  She moaned and hugged her arms around his head, holding him where he was, his mouth on her, drawing her nipple against his tongue. Now their hips were flexing together, grinding on each other, and fuck, he was going to lose it in his jeans. He released her breast with a grunt and pushed up, then dropped his head to her chest, breathless.

  He’d wanted to go slow, to treat her right. To take care. To prepare her for who he was now. To make her ready for his horror. But she’d seen it, his darkness inside and out, and she’d writhed against him, her body moving so hard on his that he could feel her on his dead chest. Now he felt her heartbeat thrum rapidly on his forehead, and he said quietly, “Adrienne, if we don’t stop now, I don’t think I’ll be able to.”

  Her hands came to his face, sliding into his beard, and she lifted his head and looked hard into his eyes. “We’re not stopping. We’re tired of stopping, remember?”

  “I hurt you.” He brushed her lower lip, still bearing the mark of the worst thing he’d ever done. “How can you trust me?”

  “I know you, Badge. I love you. It wasn’t you that hit me. You’re not going to use again, are you?”

  “I don’t want to. I’m afraid to promise, though. I still want it.” Actually, this was the first time he’d thought about it in hours, and the thought didn’t come with the need.

  She tucked his hair behind his ear. “Well, I trust you. And I’ll help you.”

  He felt lucky. Blessed, even. That was almost funny. He kissed her again, deeply, tasting all of her, and moved his hand into the waistband of her skirt. It was snug, and he looked for an opening. Smiling on his mouth, she put her hands between them and untied a drawstring, then wriggled out of her skirt and panties. He helped, pulling the fabric down and away, and there she was, totally naked under him.

  So beautiful. So perfect. He pulled away to watch his hand move over her hip, down her thigh, and then back up, moving over and between. At the peak of her thighs was a small triangle of amber hair, trimmed short. As he watched his hand nearing that lovely sight, he realized that she was trembling. He looked back up and met her eyes. “Adrienne?”

  “Not stopping, remember?” She smiled, but she looked scared.

  “I don’t want to do anything you don’t want.”

  “Then don’t stop. I want to feel you. Inside.”

  “Fuck, I want that, too. Hold on.”

  Pushing off the bed and ignoring the burn in his chest as he did so, Badger stood and took off his jeans and boxers, grabbing a condom from his pocket before he tossed his jeans aside. Her eyes flared when he stood naked at the side of the bed and rolled the condom on. As he circled her ankles and pulled her legs wide so that he could kneel between them, she scooted away—just an inch or two—and whispered, “Um. Wait. Wait, wait.”

  Kneeling, his hands on either side of her hips, he stopped. “Okay. Okay?”

  She stared down between them. “Yeah—just…yeah. Okay.”

  “Not stopping
?”

  “Not stopping. But slow.”

  Thus assured, he slid his hand under her little ass, cupping a whole cheek in one hand. He took hold of himself with the other and pushed gently against her folds. Even through the latex, he could feel how wet she was. He could see it, too, in the darkening of the light spray of hair at her entrance. He wanted to touch her more, but she wanted this, and so did he. He pushed in, gently, slowly.

  Jesus God, she was tight. Club girls, even new club girls, weren’t tight like this. He felt her body resisting him even as her eyelids fluttered shut and her neck arched gracefully upward. He pushed, working hard to be slow and steady, though the stimulation of her powerfully tight sheath was making him crazy, and then thought he felt real resistance. An actual barrier. He opened eyes he hadn’t known he’d closed and saw her biting down on her lip, her brow knitted. With pain?

  Holy. Fucking. Shit. He pulled out in a hurry.

  “Adrienne!”

  A bright, fiery blush suffused her face and chest, and she opened her eyes. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I should have said. Please don’t stop.”

  “You’re—you’re a—you never—” Confounded by shock and arousal, his brain would not form a sentence.

  “I’m so sorry. I suck.”

  Reaching for calm with a deep breath, Badger rolled to sit at her side, his solid cock sticking up stupidly. “No, you don’t. But how…I don’t understand. You’re twenty-four. You’ve had boyfriends. That Patrick guy.” He hated that guy. He’d made Adrienne cry. A lot. Which had sucked for so many reasons.

  “I know. I suck. It’s so lame.”

  “Stop, Adrienne. It’s not. And you don’t. I’m just surprised.” Shocked, more like. “Why haven’t you?”

  She didn’t answer. Instead she closed her eyes and then, for an extra layer of protection, threw her arm over them. Suddenly, she seemed very young to him.

  “Adrienne.” He pulled on her arm. “Talk to me.”

  Peeking out from under her elbow, she said, “Don’t freak out, okay?”

  He just raised his eyebrows. He was plenty freaked already. This was the girl who’d made every move between them for years. Including tonight.

  “You.”

  “What?”

  “Nobody else measures up. I’ve never found anybody I wanted to be with like that. Just you.”

  He laughed.

  “Don’t laugh at me!”

  “I’m not. It’s just—me? I’m nothing special. Especially now.”

  She propped herself up on her elbows, which made her little breasts, still erect with arousal, point right at him. Distracting. “You really don’t see how awesome you are, do you? Do you want me to make a list? Because I’ve made a list. Every time I get dumped because I won’t give a guy what he wants, I wonder why I won’t, what it is that’s so special about you, when you didn’t want me the same way. You want the list?”

  “No, I really don’t.”

  “Well, it’s long. You’re awesome. And I want you to be my first. Hopefully my only.”

  Shock and something else—elation?—rocketed through his cells, and he felt his eyes widen.

  She put her hand to her mouth. “Oh, God. That last part shouldn’t have come out. Just ignore that part.”

  “No. I’m not ignoring that part. No way.” He rolled back over and kissed her, wishing he could etch her words on their lips, and led himself back into her.

  This time, when he got deep enough to feel that thing that said she’d been his for so much longer than he’d ever known, he paused and looked down. Her eyes were closed, and her body was tense. “Adrienne, look at me.” She did as he said.

  It was so strange for him to feel experienced. To feel like the guide, to have the lead. The effect was potent and profoundly arousing.

  “I’ve heard it hurts the first time. You don’t want me to stop?”

  She shook her head, her eyes not leaving his.

  “If it does, it’s the last time I’ll ever hurt you. That I will promise.” He pushed harder than he had before, pushed through and felt something give. Her face twisted a little, and she whimpered. “I’m sorry, babe.”

  At his words, her expression smoothed, and she looked into his eyes as he pushed in as far as he could.

  She was the best thing he’d ever felt in his life. The best thing he could imagine ever feeling. He held, deep inside her, need cramping his muscles, but he waited until he could feel her body relax. When she moaned and wrapped her legs around his waist, he knew she was okay. And then he began to move.

  At first, she was mostly still, her eyes intent on his, letting him move for them both. But just as he was worried that he wouldn’t be able to hold out long enough to get her over, just as he thought the tight, milking pressure of her body around his was going to drive him out of his head, the look in her eyes changed. Her breath did, too; it became heavier, erratic. Louder. Then she began to whimper with every exhale, and he knew she’d started to climb.

  Club girls always came, no matter what, but they made big productions out of it, like they thought there was a camera in the room somewhere. For all Badger knew, he’d never really gotten a girl off. He’d tried. He knew some of the other guys didn’t bother, but he’d always thought sex in the clubhouse made a pretty decent education, if a guy wanted it. The only thing he hadn’t done with the club girls was oral—him on them, that is—because a lot of his brothers had been there, and that just seemed, well, gross.

  So he thought he knew what a girl was like when she came—or, at least, what girls thought they should be like when they came. What Adrienne was doing under him was different. She was much more quiet, but what was happening to her was so obviously real that it was vastly sexier than anything he’d ever done with any other girl.

  So sexy that he wasn’t going to be able to hang. Desperate to make this good for her, to be worth what she’d forgone for him, he moved his hand between their flexing bodies and found her clit. At his contact, she cried out and lifted her shoulders off the bed, and he felt her get suddenly much wetter—not that she’d been dry before. Thrusting faster, getting almost to the point of no return himself, his thumb working her clit, sliding over her wet flesh, he tucked his head against her neck.

  “Badge! God, Badge! Ohohoh! OH!” Her nails sank into his shoulders as her body froze hard, and he felt her throb around him. That amazing, astounding feeling blasted the last of his control, and he came, groaning into her neck.

  As they relaxed, her pulled out of her, wincing with her when she sucked in a breath.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s okay. More than okay. That was perfect.” She laughed. “Give me a few minutes, then I think I want to do more of that.”

  “I’m definitely in for more.” Grinning, Badger reached down for the condom. He checked it first—only a slight pink tinge. He pulled it off and sat up, looking for the trash. As he tied off the top and discarded it, a thought occurred to him, and that happy grin faded. He looked over his shoulder at Adrienne, who was lying unabashed in her nudity, beautiful and relaxed.

  “Does Show know you’re—were—a virgin?”

  She shook her head. “Not something I talk about.”

  Well, that was a relief. Maybe he would survive the beating he was headed for tomorrow. Though his nose probably wouldn’t. But that was a concern for the next day. Now, he lay at Adrienne’s side, his hand on her belly, and let himself feel good. When she lifted her hand and brushed it over his ruined chest, he closed his eyes and let her, pushing hard at the dark thoughts battling to get in.

  And this time, he beat them back. This time, he won.

  ~oOo~

  When Isaac, Show, Len, and Tommy returned from the weed run, Dom, Zeke and Badger were waiting in the Hall. Badger was nervous; it was his first meeting since his detox, and after this, he was going to tell Show that he and Adrienne were together. And then…Christ. Who knew.

  Isaac walked straight through the Hall and into t
he Keep, and the rest of the Horde fell in line to follow him. When they were all seated, Isaac put his elbows on the table and leaned in.

  “Run went smooth—smooth as that bullshit can go. We picked up a tail when we crossed the county line. That’s the third time in a row. Don’t know what Seaver is up to with his games, but for now, we play it as safe and smart as we can.”

  “He’s gotta know there’s a front end to that run,” Show added. “He could fuck us hard if he pulled us over on our way out. He’s gotta know that.”

  “He’d need a warrant, or at least probable cause, to search the truck.” As Badger spoke, Show turned an icy look on him. It might have been a mistake for him to correct something Show had said.

  But Isaac answered. “That’s why we’re bein’ Boy Scouts, obeying all posted laws and limits. But we’re on borrowed time. He’s got something cookin’. Just don’t know what.” He turned to Dom. “You got anything new, brother?”

  “Nothing we can use. There hasn’t been any more between Seaver and the St. Louis Feds since my last update. I don’t know if the Feds dropped him or what. Otherwise, I got a shit ton of him being an asshole, all kinds of creepy, racist emails, and he’s got a thing for rape jokes, but nothing outright corrupt that I can find. It’s there. But he’s smart. If he does announce a campaign for Washington, D.C., then we can threaten to leak the emails, but until then, I don’t see what I’ve got hurting him enough.”

  Show nodded. “Yeah, we’ve had that conversation.” They’d been looking for leverage against Sheriff Seaver for a year, something to bring him into their camp or at least neutralize him. His image was squeaky clean, a total Dudley Do-Right, and he looked the part, his uniform always pressed and perfect, his hair military short. But he had a nasty streak, and behind the scenes was not so interested in doing things the right way. He was exploring his options for a run for the House of Representatives, and it looked like he was planning to use the Horde to get there.

  “We’re stuck on Seaver. Nothin’ to do but wait and watch. Same with the Perros. We got no movement there yet, but Hoosier hit me up on the run last night. The Scorps LA are working something. Don’t have details, but he wants us on alert.”