Rock Me Baby

by Jesse Jordan

  “It, huh?”

  Ian grabs my other hand and pins it above my head with its partner, his hand so massive that he can encircle both my wrists with one hand while he roughly mauls my right breast. Hot sparks fill my body as he looks at me possessively, his body strong and captivating as he climbs between my legs. “It.”

  Ian's hand lets go of my wrist, but his eyes command me silently and I leave my hands there, holding onto the wooden headboard as he brings a thick finger to my lips and I lick it, wetting it before he slides it inside me, deep into my aching pussy. I'm moaning already, and Ian's finger curls in small, teasing little movements, his eyes wide in the morning sunrise.

  “Give yourself to me,” he commands, his thumbs brushing my clit and my nipple at the same time. “You're mine?”

  “Yes.” I moan. “All yours.”

  “I'm going to take care of you, Mary. I'll protect and give you anything you've ever wanted,” Ian says, his voice low and intense as his finger starts curling again in my pussy. “I'll never be cruel to you. But you are mine totally.”

  “And you're mine?” I ask, Ian's finger stopping for a heart-stopping instant before he withdraws and adjusts himself, the head of his cock slipping inside me. “Ian?”

  “I'm yours,” he swears, letting go of my breast to drive himself deep inside me in one thrilling, fiery stroke of his cock. At the same time, he kisses me hard, his lips bruising as we fall into animalistic, primal passion. His cock is huge, even though we made love twice last night it still feels like he's tearing me open, tearing open my very soul as his hips rise and fall, my body crushed underneath him while we kiss.

  He is tearing me open, and I love it. He's tearing me open and taking away the pain, the doubt and the fear with each stroke of his amazing cock. Every time our lips touch, each nip of my neck lights my nerves on fire and leaves me crying out for more, wanting to feel him everywhere in me. His hands are relentless, tender and rough at the same time, my skin as on fire as my pussy as he hammers me, both of us rising higher and higher.

  My pussy squeezes his cock as he strokes in and out, his thick shaft making every nerve in my pussy light up. He starts swirling his hips and I’m in heaven, my eyes rolling back as I feel things I’ve never felt before, and my hands leave the headboard to clutch at his powerful shoulders desperately. Wave after wave of ecstasy rolls through my body each time his cock slides so deep I swear he’s touching my brain. I’m in heaven, his powerful thick cock making me tremble even before I know what’s happening.

  “Tell me,” Ian rasps in my ear, and I groan, wrapping my legs around him as he speeds up, my fingers raking his back as we get closer and closer.

  “I'm there,” I cry out as Ian's cock grinds hard into me and I'm coming, clutching at his body as Ian pulls back and thrusts in, again and again, then I feel him come, the thick, hot cream filling my body and sending me into raptures. I scream it feels so good and Ian shudders before relaxing, rolling us to the side and gathering me into his arms.

  “That's a good way to wake up,” he jokes after a minute, gently stroking my back. His cock is still buried inside me, and I hum happily, comforted. “We can do that every day if you want.”

  “Would you?” I ask, happy. “I mean... every time I stay here?”

  “You can stay here as long as you want,” Ian reassures me. “And when this is cleared up, we're going to get you a better apartment, something closer to school, if you want.”

  “I don't want to be a kept girl,” I protest, and Ian chuckles, rubbing my back.

  “You won't be. First off, I know that the best way to help an addict is to make you earn your way up. But also, Cora and Andrea wouldn't let me even if I thought of doing that. But you could use a cosigner, connections to a better job than that storage place I won't let you go back to since Carl knows about it. We'll work together, get you a better job. Hell, I'll talk to your parole officer if you want me to. I can be charming to cops, sometimes.”

  I giggle, kissing his chin. “My parole officer's an old fashioned ball-buster. She won't be influenced by your charms, even if I am. Speaking of school though, I do have class today. Would you mind having breakfast with me before I have to get ready to go?”

  “Sounds great. Let's get showered up, separate showers, unfortunately, grab some breakfast and I'll take you to school. While you’re in class I’ll run some errands and stuff since we don't have practice or recording today. When are you finished?” Ian asks.

  “Three thirty today. You really want to?” I ask, and Ian nods, kissing the top of my head.

  “Very much so. Come on, we don't want you late for your first class.”

  I'm slightly sore as I shower, but it's the right kind of sore, my body feeling fulfilled and satisfied. As I rub the conditioner into my hair before using the poofy sponge with the herbal body wash, I realize that I could get used to this very quickly. Ian's right, I should be careful, I don't want to be clingy and leeching.

  I'm surprised when I see Ian dressed not in jeans like normal, but in a pair of normal looking basketball shorts and a pair of Jordans. “What's this, going hip-hop today?”

  Ian laughs and points to the sofa, where I see a gym bag. “Figured I'd get a session in while you're in class. Hope you don't mind microwave oatmeal for breakfast, I'm nowhere near the cook Joey is.”

  “I can barely make a sandwich, so it looks like we’ve both got to learn some. I normally just do leftovers, but we're short on time so that's great,” I tell him. We nuke the two bowls and sit down, Ian dropping a pat of butter into both right at the end.

  “I like being able to watch my butter melt,” he explains. “It's yummier that way.”

  We eat quickly and I grab my bag, feeling easy and free in the all-fresh clothes that Andrea insisted on getting me. They're not my normal goth style if anything I feel sort of like an average college student, but Ian's eyes sparkle as I get out. “What?”

  “You're beautiful, that's all. Hey, did you pack a lunch?”

  I shake my head, but pat my backpack. “Don't worry, the student center does have some stuff, and Cora insisted on shoving a little roll of bills in here while she thought I wasn't looking yesterday. I've been too afraid to see exactly how much it is.”

  “Knowing Cora? You're going to have no problems getting some extra cheese on your burger,” Ian jokes, giving me a wave as he drives away. I ponder about my luck, but then my phone beeps, and I realize I've only got ten minutes until my professional writing class.

  I enjoy professional writing, it's one of the classes I really feel is going to get me ready for my actual degree, and afterward, I go towards the student center, ready to get lunch. I'm halfway there when my phone rings and I see that it's a pay phone. “Hello?”

  “You fucking bitch!” Carl screams in my ear, and I nearly hang up on him right there. “You fucking, stupid bitch!”

  I should hang up, but fuck it, he knows my number and after the past few days, I'm too pissed off to care what the fuck he says to me. “Nice to hear from you too, Carl. And just what is pissing you off today?”

  “You... FUCK!” Carl screams again, and I have to pull my phone away from my ear it stings so much. “Fucking bitch! You got me banned from the church!”

  “I'd say starting a fight with Ian and punching the wall did that without too much of my help,” I counter. “Carl, just fuck off. It's over, I'm done with your ass. Move the fuck on. We never even went out, you're acting like a fucking ex. Fuck off, it's over.”

  “No... no, it's not over between us by a long shot, bitch,” Carl hisses. “You hear me? Your friend? I'm gonna pimp her ass out worse than that ex of yours ever even thought. She's going to be going ass to ass with a Pringles can up her poop chute by the time I'm done with her. As for you, you're going to make up this insult to me. There's no fucking way I'm going to let this drop.”

  “Carl, I'm warning you. Don't make me go to the cops.”

  Carl laughs. “What, you think you scare me, bitc
h? Seriously, what the fuck do you think's going to happen if you do? I own you, bitch. I've owned you since the night you walked into that basement and said you were a fucking smackhead.”

  “Nobody owns me!” I yell into my phone. I see other people looking at me and I take a deep breath, calming down. No need for a scene. “Nobody owns me, Carl. Least of all you.”

  “We'll see. Just remember... I'm the candy man.”

  Carl hangs up, his last words chilling me. The candy man, that's what Brenda called him. And he threatened her in the call too. I may be angry with her, I may be hurt by her, but she's my friend, and she doesn't need this shit.

  I check my clock and see I've got a half hour to my next class. Okay, that's enough time. Quickly, I dial again. “Ian? When you come pick me up, I could use your help.”

  I'm surprised when a man in a brand-new charcoal gray conservatively cut suit greets Ian and me when we step off the elevator on the twenty-seventh floor of the Coates building in downtown Los Angeles. “Miss Walker? Hi, I'm Timothy Ferrell, Ms. Coates asked me to meet with you personally.”

  “Uh, hi,” I reply nervously, for the first time today feeling underdressed in a regular t-shirt instead of a tank top. “Sorry, I just feel nervous. Last time I saw a lawyer, he was asking the judge to put me in jail for three to five.”

  “Hmmm... DA's. They're generally assholes,” Timothy says before giving me a hint of a smirk. “I should know, I used to be one. But I promise I'm on your side. Come into the conference room, we'll help you out.”

  Ian, Timothy, and I go into the conference room, where I tell him everything, including about today's phone call. Timothy nods, while in the corner a woman I can only assume is his paralegal takes copious notes and records everything. It takes about twenty minutes, and Timothy doesn't interrupt me other than to check a few dates and times.

  “Okay, so let me get this straight. He's a drug dealer?”

  I nod, sighing. “That's what my friend Brenda says. I didn't call the cops though because of the other people in the group. But I think we're past that point. Is there anything you can do?”

  Timothy thinks for a moment, then nods. “There's two options here. The first and probably easier is to get a temporary restraining order. I play golf with a judge, and with this info, he should be able to grant me a TRO. There'd be a hearing to see if the order becomes permanent, but knowing Judge Garland, it won't be for at least a month. By the way, don't be fooled, even a permanent no-contact order lasts only up to five years.”

  “What's the other option?” Ian asks. “If Judge Garland happens to be taking a trip to Sacramento or something like that?”

  “We'd have to call the cops, but that's a roll of the dice. They can contact a judge and get an emergency order, but that only lasts for a few days until a TRO hearing can be made. I'll be honest that's harder though because there's no verified physical contact, which makes getting an EPO for stalking a lot harder. Also, no offense Mary, but as a convicted felon, the cops tend to be dickheads.”

  “Is that a legal comment?” I ask, and Timothy laughs.

  “Close enough. But I'd only go for the EPO if I can't get the TRO. Also, I can go for a TRO without having to get the rest of this NA group in trouble. You said that the Pastor is replacing the group facilitator. Do you know if they've found one yet?”

  “No, I haven't contacted him since telling him about Carl,” I admit, and Timothy hums.

  “Okay, well I can give him a call or I'd say give him a call yourself. Take care of those people, I hated doing drug cases when I was a DA. Listen, give me twenty minutes to get the forms prepared and then get your signature on the bottom, and I'll take them personally to see Judge Garland. In the meantime, you stay safe.”

  “I am,” I reassure him. I look at Ian, giving him a smile. “I've never felt safer.”

  Timothy looks from me to Ian and humphs. “So, that's the way it is. Good. Give me twenty minutes.”

  After we get the forms signed, Ian and I head down to his Caddy and I get inside. “Ian, I have a crazy request. I want to go check on Brenda next, even though it could be dangerous.”

  Ian studies me for a moment, then cranks his engine. “Just give me directions. I'll make sure you're okay.”

  I'm touched, and during the drive to Brenda's, I feel better than I ever have in my life. “Get off here, then turn left at the light.”

  “Sure,” Ian says. “So, how do you feel about getting the restraining order?”

  “It's not enough, but it'll help for now,” I say after a few seconds. “Ian, I think there's something seriously wrong with Carl. I don't know how long it's been since someone told him no.”

  “I get that impression. After he tried to punch me, Pastor Dan told me that when Carl came to the church to run the NA meetings, he got the impression that it was Carl's charisma that led to him being very successful. Speaking of successful, I talked with James around lunch time, and they figured out who blabbed the practice schedule. As you can guess, they've been fired. So...”

  “So, you're wondering if maybe I'd like to change part time jobs to working in Burbank?” I ask, and Ian nods. “One step at a time, babe. Turn right here, it's the brown building on the right about halfway down the block.”

  Ian does as I ask, driving through the entire parking area before pulling into a space and shutting off the engine. “Not the best place in town.”

  “I see Brenda's car though,” I note, pointing it out. “She should still be here.”

  We get out, but before we climb the stairs to the second floor, Ian grabs my shoulder. “Mary?”

  “Yeah?” I ask, and Ian bends down, quickly giving me a kiss. It's hot, powerful, and I feel not his desire but his affection for me in his lips.

  “Be careful. I'm right behind you, just remember.”

  I smile and rub his chest. “I told you, I've never felt safer. Come on.”

  Chapter 14

  Ian

  The first thing that hits me when Brenda opens the door is the whiff of nastiness. I've heard the phrase 'shit the bed' before, but I always thought it applied to either major fails or to children. However, I'm sure that as Brenda opens the door, she's literally at some point in the past few days shit the bed, and not changed the fucking sheets.

  “Jesus, Brenda,” Mary whispers, but instead of backing up she enters, and with watering eyes I follow behind her, reminding myself to breathe through my mouth.

  “Mary, what are you doing here?” Brenda asks, her voice papery and weak. She's lost at least five pounds in the past two days, her eyes looking slightly sunken in her skull. “After we talked...”

  “You're still my friend, and I still care about you,” Mary says, taking her friend's hands. “How long have you been off?”

  “He cut me off the day that I.... oh fuck, it's you,” Brenda says, noticing me for the first time and backing away, afraid. “Listen, mister, I really didn't mean to and I'm super sorry...”

  “I'm only here to keep Mary safe, you and I got no beef, otherwise,” I reassure her. “Brenda, I don't know you, but I know Mary. If she says you're her friend, then I'll protect you both to the gates of hell if that's where this apartment is. We're here to help you.”

  “Bren, you're safe right now,” Mary says, stroking her friend's hair. “Let's get you cleaned up, and get you out of here.”

  “I can't. I don't have anywhere to go,” Brenda says, her body racked with tremors. “I... I tried my folks. My mother hung up on me after telling me they were cutting me off, that she didn't have a daughter anymore.”

  That's some stone-cold shit right there, and even I'm touched as Mary gathers Brenda in for an embrace. “Then we'll get you taken care of.”

  “No,” Brenda says, pushing away. “No, Mary. I won't do that to you. I won't put you two at risk.”

  “What risk?” Mary asks, and Brenda backs away again, tears trickling down her face.

  “Don't you get it?” she asks, trying not to sob. “I'm
using again, Mary! Even now, I want to go get some! Fuck, I haven't been to class, I've barely eaten, all I can think of is getting some fucking smack! I won't do that to you!”

  “Then let us help you,” I say, reaching out. I take a step forward, and suddenly there's a knife in Brenda's hand, her face a mask of murder.

  “Stay back!” she yells, sadness mixing with the anger in her eyes. “I said I won't let you do that, and if I have to cut you, I will! Get out! Get the fuck out and save yourselves!”

  “Brenda....” Mary says desperately. “Why?”

  Brenda's knife doesn't waver, but her eyes brim with tears as she backs up some more. “Because I love you, Mary. I've killed everything I've loved in my life, our friendship included. But I won't kill you, I won't let you kill yourself for me. I know it, I can see it in your eyes. You're too fucking good for me, Mary.”

  Mary's starting to cry too, but she wipes at her eyes and steps back, not turning around. “Ian... let's go.”

  We back up, Mary stopping at the door and reaching into her pocket. She pulls out a roll of bills, setting them on the small table by the door. “There's just under a thousand dollars here, Brenda. Now, you can take it, go get high, and probably kill yourself with this amount of money. Or you can fight the monkey, take this thousand dollars, and get away from Carl. Get away from the city, start somewhere new. When you're ready, call me, and I'll be there. You made me so angry, but I love you too, Brenda. And I won't give up on you, even if you're ready to give up on yourself.”

  Brenda's knife wavers, but Mary shoos me out, and we leave, closing the door behind us. She says nothing as we get in the car, but starts crying before I'm even out of the parking lot, burying her face in her hands and weeping softly.

  “What would you like to do?” I ask, turning left. “Call the cops? Call Andrea's lawyers, get her forced into a rehab center?”

  Mary shakes her head, sniffing. “I need a drink. You know a place we could go drown our sorrows a little? This is one fucking time when being an alcohol lightweight fucking sucks.”