by Nicole Fox
So here is this new wounded deer. Doe-eyed, long, and lean, Selena is nothing like Becca. She is smart and fit, self-assured. She’s educated. She married the wrong fucking guy and she got screwed, so she knows what this is like. And yet, she didn’t shut down. Not at all. She remained a caring person, an empathetic person. A good person.
And damn, she’s a good lay. Responsive, giving, sexy. Selena is a beautiful woman.
My woman.
I shove the thought out of my head. Getting proprietary about this woman is not a smart move. But the thought lingers there, even after we pay and get back on the road.
***
Selena
He could have left me there. Could have walked away, wiped his hands of this whole mess. But he didn’t. Where Matt ran away from his problems, Finn has taken on mine, created his own. He didn’t need to do this. He’s absolutely got to be
The lack of sleep is getting to him. Big black bruises bloom beneath his eyes and he’s stiff and mechanical, like he’s just using sheer will to stay awake and alert. We’re in Arizona now, and we’ve probably said fifty words to each other.
“Why don’t we stop?” I ask. “Get a nice hotel room? Eat a nice meal? Shower? Sleep?”
He glances at me, his mouth set into a deep frown. I assume he’ll say no, but he gives a short nod and tells me to look out for something.
We find it in a resort town. There are several man-made, ultra-green golf courses, flanked by extravagantly expensive homes and resort hotels. We pick one and pull up, the valet scowling at us as we exit, still in the same clothes we left New York in two days ago.
“Do you have a reservation?” the guy asks.
Finn throws a twenty at him and says, “We will.”
“I didn’t think about money,” I say, cringing. “Sergei’s surely watching my bank transactions, right?”
“Probably,” he says. “But it’s fine. I’ve got cash.”
We book ourselves into a plush room with a king-sized bed. Finn calls the concierge and asks him to send someone up to fit us for dinner attire. A fussy, middle-aged woman comes up shortly after, clucking her tongue and taking measurements. She leaves without much conversation and I stare at Finn, open-mouthed, only to get a limp shoulder shrug in reply.
“I’m fucking beat,” he says. “What the fuck time is it?”
I peer at the bedside clock. “Two in the afternoon. Take a nap.”
He doesn’t have to be told twice as he flops onto the bed, folding his arms across his chest, soft snores escaping just moments after his head hits the pillow.
I try to sleep, but after an hour of futile tossing and turning, I decide to take a long bath.
In the oversized soaker tub, I load up on the berry-scented soap, washing my hair twice, filling the tub with bubbles. I lay my head back, a towel bolstering my neck, and my eyes get heavy instantly.
The sloshing of water wakes me up. Finn’s big body pushes much of the now bubble-less water onto the floor. I blink at him and he grins.
“Good evening, princess,” he says. “Nice soak?”
“I guess,” I say, sitting up, trying to make room for him as he sits at the other end of the tub, facing me. “Nice nap?”
“The best,” he says. “I needed it. Good call.”
There’s a long, awkward silence between us. I’m not sure what to say or do.
Finally, I say, “Finn, I can make my own way from here. You don’t have to stay with me. I know you’ve got a life, a business to run.”
“I don’t,” he says.
“You don’t,” I answer, as if agreeing. No, you don’t have to stay.
“I don’t mean it like that,” he says. He takes his forefinger and twirls it in the now lukewarm water. “I mean I don’t have a business. Not anymore.”
I give what I’m sure is a confused look.
“I liquidated it all. When I knew he had you. I had set it up to get out of it quickly. It was in a holding company, ready to liquidate whenever I needed to. I signed it away, walked with the cash. My apartment was month-to-month. There’s nothing tying me to New York.”
“Why? Why would you do that?” I ask.
“Because I knew we might need to run. Or at the least, I might have to pay him off,” he answers.
“That’s insane. You can’t give up your business for me,” I say sharply, tears welling in my eyes.
“Well, I did. So there.”
“But why?” I ask, crying in earnest now.
“Because I care about you. I care that you’re all right, okay?” he asks. “That business … whatever. I was a loan shark. What the fuck kind of business is that anyway. I made good money. I’ve got a locked box of cash in that Jeep that should last us several years if we’re careful. I can take care of us, no matter where we land.”
“Us,” I say. I feel like I got the wind knocked out of me. I say it again. “Us.”
He looks stricken. “Is this where you tell me there is no us?” he asks. “I mean, I can take it, but damn.”
I laugh through my tears and snot comes out of my nose. I wipe it away, still laughing. “That’s sexy,” I say.
He moves his big body so that he’s on his knees, hovering over me. He leans in for a soft kiss. “You’re always sexy to me,” he says.
***
Finn
“Selena,” I say. “I want you.”
She blushes, her cheeks and chest turning deeply pink. She bites her lip and looks away. “I wasn’t sure if you … how you …” she stumbles over her words.
I make a decision then, pushing myself up, sloshing water all over the place. I hold out my hand and she hesitates only a moment before taking it so I can help her up out of the now-cold water.
Her body is so amazing, toned and long and smooth, just the tiniest bit of swelling in her abdomen, the beginnings of a baby bump that would be unnoticeable if I did not know to look. I grab a large, fluffy towel and wrap her up. Our eyes meet and she blushes again. What is this new shyness from her?
We dry off, still quiet, and she follows me out to the bedroom, where the evening sun shines through our west-facing windows. It bathes her in a soft, orange light and as I take in the sight of her, biting her lip, so unsure of what this is between us, I realize just how much I want her.
It’s more than sexual; I know that now. Though my cock would say otherwise as it stands proudly awaiting her attention.
“Selena,” I say, surprised to find that my voice is rough and hoarse.
She steps forward with the lightness of a dancer, her arms at her sides, hands balled in tight fists. Her face is soft but there is a tightness in her body that may be nervousness, or stress, or worry. I want to take it away.
“Lie down on your stomach,” I order, more roughly than I intend. She does as asked, the curves of her body on full display as she stretches out on the soft, white comforter. I’m a big dude, so it’s awkward at first as I straddle her, but once my hands hit her tense shoulders, she realizes my intent, and closes her eyes, letting my hands work that tension from her body. I’ve never given anyone a massage, ever, but I find I enjoy giving her this moment of relaxation and pampering.
After working on her shoulders, neck, and arms, I work my way down to her lower back and her sculpted ass. She moans as I touch her, lifting up a little, an invitation to touch her. I dip my fingers between her legs, touching her asshole lightly, then dipping further down, finding her pussy dripping-wet already.
I insert two fingers, pumping in and out slowly as my free hand lightly traces the soft skin of her round ass. She lifts up, spreading her legs wider. I dip down, my tongue exploring that small, brown hole, the sensitive nether-space, and then joining my fingers to work her cunt as it gapes for attention.
She buries her head beneath the pillows as she shoves her ass higher, her legs wider. She loves it, wants more. I pick up the pace of my fingers, my tongue exploring clit, cunt, asshole. Without warning, her pussy clenches and she lets out a breathles
s cry, orgasm achieved.
It lasts so long, and I work her all the way through it. “Come on,” I encourage. “Come for me. Yes.”
As the intensity subsides, she falls to the bed, breathing heavily, her sweet pussy flaring with aftershocks. I help her roll to her back and when she looks at me, her eyes are glazed with ecstasy, her cheeks pink and flushed. I lean forward to kiss her softly, letting her taste herself on my lips. She opens her mouth to welcome my tongue and while we kiss, I slip inside of her, eliciting a soft moan.
It’s been a long time since I’ve made love like this, but this feels like more than fucking, more than just sex. Can she feel it too?
She wraps those long legs around me as we become one, wrapped in each other’s limbs, taking slow pleasure in each other in this space that feels safe and secluded. I find myself wishing we could stay in this bubble forever.
As we find our climax together, I hear myself ask, “What have you done to me?”
She answers only with a sound of pleasure that pushes endorphins through me from head to toe.
Chapter Seventeen
Selena
It takes quite a bit of effort to get up and throw on a bathrobe when the terse woman from earlier comes back with clothing for us. She’s picked out nice but simple outfits, several for us to choose from.
I slip into the bathroom to dress in a simple blue sundress, pulling my hair up into a messy knot on top of my head. When I walk out, Finn looks amazing in a jacket and jeans. But it’s the look he gives me that makes my core go molten. Even my husband never looked at me like that, like I was the only thing he could see.
“You look gorgeous,” he says.
“Oh, it’s …I …” I stammer over my words. “Thank you. You too.”
He offers his arm and we head down to the club restaurant, full of CEOs and their wives, all manicured and well-dressed. No one pays us much attention, and we’re given a table in a relatively quiet corner, near a window that looks out over the perfectly trimmed golf course.
After we’ve ordered drinks and appetizers, Finn asks me where I want to go next.
“I don’t know,” I say. “I was thinking somewhere with a beach. I can wait tables or bartend. Start a new life for myself and the baby.”
One corner of Finn’s mouth pulls down.
“What?” I ask.
“There you go again,” he answers. “You’re not in this alone, Selena. I’m here with you.”
“But it’s not like … I don’t expect you raise someone else’s kid,” I say. “I wouldn’t put that on you.”
“What if I want it?” he asks.
“Want … what?”
Finn makes a face that tells me I’m being dense. “It. This. You. The baby.”
I open my mouth but nothing comes out. I try to school my features into something … anything … anything. Obviously, I fail, though, because he looks away, out to the beautiful landscape, his jaw clenched.
“I’ve lived in a weird half-space for a long time, Selena,” he says. I’ve fucked up, done shitty things, made stupid choices. I survived, but that was it. And the last time I let someone near me, she screwed me over big time. I’m lucky, I guess, that she just ran off with the money. I mean, no one tried to kill me.”
“Tell me about her?” I ask.
He lets a quick breath out through his nose. “Becca. She was a wounded soul. An addict. I thought I could fix her.”
“Is that what this is?” I ask. “I’m someone you feel the need to fix?”
“Nah,” he says, taking a swig of his beer. He looks me in the eye. “No. You’re one of the strongest women I’ve ever met.”
“Don’t be facetious,” I say, cheeks burning.
“I’m not,” he says. “Selena, you impress me. You’ve been through some shit, but you don’t let it get you down. You’re not off self-medicating, or quitting, or whatever. You’re still standing. It’s really a thing to behold. You impress me more than you can know. Becca was always blaming everything on everyone else. Always looking for the next fix or the next scam. She would lure people in and make them believe she …” Finn stops talking and takes a deep breath. “She never loved me. Not in any real way. And when she left, I shut down. But you … you’ve made me feel alive again.”
I reach out and he takes my hands across the table. “I care about you, Finn. I don’t know what it means yet. I’m not dumb enough to think that what I feel is love, not with all of this insanity happening. But I care. And I’m happy to have you at my side until we figure out what’s real and what’s not.”
He gives me a soft smile and nods. “Good. So how do you feel about Mexico?”
***
Finn
We head out early the next morning, after stuffing ourselves with room service for breakfast, followed by a long shower together.
As we drive, I see a small mom-and-pop car lot and decide we should ditch the stolen Jeep. I leave it a few blocks away after wiping it down for prints. We go and buy a used pickup truck in cash and make our way to the southern tip of California.
I stop and buy a prepaid cell phone, calling a buddy of mine in San Diego for a favor. He asks for a day to complete my request, so Selena and I get a hotel room for another night.
We order pizza and curl up in the room for the night, watching a movie. It feels like such a normal thing to do. It’s not a very good movie, a chick-flick, really, and a particularly manipulative one. But Selena ends up crying.
I snicker at her and she smacks me on the arm. “Shut up,” she laughs. “I’m pregnant. My hormones made me do it.”
“Do you miss your husband?” I ask.
“No,” she says quickly. “Not really.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Seriously? Not at all?”
She shrugs. “I don’t think about him much. I’m not sure we were ever really a good match.”
“Hmm,” I grunt. “What did you imagine for your life before you met him?”
“I don’t know,” she says. “I thought I’d work in some high-rise in the city. I was very focused on fashion and going out. Brunches on Sunday mornings. We traveled a lot with Matt’s clients. Partied a lot. It wasn’t a fulfilling life, though. My friends weren’t really my friends, you know?”
“Sounds lonely,” I say.
“Well, I think you know a thing about that, too, don’t you?” she counters.
“Fair enough,” I say. “Yes, I guess you’re right.”
“Do you have any hobbies?” she asks. “Do you do anything for fun?”
I let out a bitter little laugh. “What’s fun?” I ask. “Just kidding. I mean, I work out, play basketball. I do have a couple of buddies that I meet up with for drinks or a game. I play a round of poker here and there. I’m not totally un-fun.”
“Good to know,” she says. “Because I’m actually really fun.”
“If you consider yoga fun, then I beg to differ.”
She smacks my arm again. “Jerk. Yoga helps me manage my anxiety. And I do enjoy it. But I also like listening to music. I used to be a dancer. I like a good board game.”
“Noted,” I say with a chuckle.
“How long has it been since you’ve gotten to know someone?” she asks. “Like, asked their favorite color or taken them to dinner?”
“Long time,” I admit. “With Becca it wasn’t like that usually. She struggled a lot and things were always hard. It was like walking on eggshells, being with her.”
“Did you think you’d end up in this business? In this type of life?” she asks.
“You mean the type where I shake people down when they don’t pay their exorbitantly high-interest loans?” I ask.
“Yeah, I guess,” she answers.
“I was super young when I started working for my dad. I went to school but I wasn’t any good at it. I ran around with my buddies, screwed women, got drunk. My father cuffed me on the chin one day and told me I was going to work with him or end up in jail. And he wasn’t wrong. But I took
his business in such a different direction after he died …” I take a minute to think and then sigh. “I guess I saw myself as this badass or something. I don’t know what I would’ve done otherwise. Kind of pathetic, I guess.”
“Well,” she says. “I guess we get a chance to do it again.”
“I guess we do,” I say.
I’m still thinking about that long after she’s fallen asleep.