Too Fast For Hope

by Adair Rymer

  “Hey! Where'd that hottie go? She was just here?”

  “I still wanna party. You wanna party with us, No-shoes guy?”

  “She was hot!” They all looked similar enough and overlapped each other in conversation that I could barely identify who said what. Not that it mattered. When people got this drunk they all turned into the same person.

  Almost on cue, Star cracked the door open behind them. She had my gun in her hand. I subtly shook my head. The seriousness in her eye flashed intently, she was ready if I needed her. It struck me just how much she'd changed.

  I cracked a grin and motioned with my head for her to go back inside. Stubbornly, she finally did. Although I knew she'd be watching through the curtains to make sure I was OK.

  “I'm glad you guys think my brother is pretty. I'll let him know.” Their expressions turned to horror. “It's cool, he's gay. I can go get him if you still wanna party.”

  “Oh fuck, dude. That's gross!” Flame shirt jerked backwards. He looked as if a skunk had just sprayed him.

  “Don't be racist, dude. Tha's not cool.” One of the guys with blue shirts shoved Flame shirt guy.

  “Nah, man. It's—” Flame shirt put an arm around Blue shirt, his bestest friend in the whole wide world. “No hate. No hate. I gotta friend who's gay. Dude, wants ta suck dick and shit, that's cool. Aint me! You know. I fuckin' loooooove the pussy, you know.” Flame shirt stuck his tongue out sloppily lapping up make-believe pussy.

  “If you still wanna party, I know this bangin' house party, like six-seven blocks that way. It's where all the college hunnies go after the bars let out.” I pointed up the street toward a police station.

  “Aaw shit, motha fuckas!” The other kid with the blue shirt got excited and started shaking his buddies. “Let's do this shit! Yuh! Yuh! You comin'?”

  “Nah, I'm gonna kick it here and fuck my brother,” I said, seeing if any of them caught it. Nope. I put out my hand and one of them helped me up. “The party is right across from the police station so you gotta be quiet about it. It'll look real low key but that's only cause of the cops across the street. Just go around back and knock real loud. Someone'll let you in.”

  They thanked me, gave me daps and stumbled off.

  “Your brother, huh?” Star came back out once they were far enough away, the gun stuffed in her pajama pants. She put her arms on my shoulders. “Funny, I don't remember seeing you next to grandma Olga in those God-awful family portraits we took every year.”

  “Never had the right sweater for it. Said they already had a Christmas tree in the shot and they didn't need a second one, so they gave me a pass.”

  “Are you mocking the clothes I bought for you! There wasn't much of a selection. Nothing jumped out at me that screamed bad ass, bedridden biker, sorry.” She traced around the wound on my cheek. I'd taken the bandage off a few days ago. The cut was healing up nicely, Doc Frankenstein had surprisingly done a decent job at patching me up.

  “Nah, I think it's sweater envy, that's got you jealous.” I smiled dismissively.

  “That must be it. You're right. I'll just have to take solace with my cartoon cat T-shirt.” She leaned back and stretched it out so that we could both see the picture in all its glory. “Besides,” she fluffed out her tangled, just-woken-up hair. “When have you ever had a nurse, that looked this good, that also gave you blow jobs?”

  I thought about it a second then opened my mouth to reply but she cut me off with a finger over my lips.

  “Don't you dare answer that,” she warned.

  I cocked my head to the side and bit at her finger until she pulled it away. I jerked her body against mine and kissed her neck. When I felt the pistol she was wearing press into me, I leaned away to check it. Just as I thought, the safety was off. The last thing I needed was another ventilation hole. I had to teach this girl a lesson.

  I snatched the gun from her pants and held it up before her. “This is the safety. Always keep it on until you want something to die.” Click. I thumbed the safety on. “Do you understand?”

  “Yes, sir!” She mock-saluted me.

  “Good.” I slipped a finger beneath her belly button to the elastic waistband of her panties and slowly pulled them forward to steal a peek inside at her pink pussy. It piqued my appetite. I dragged the flat of my tongue along the gun's slide and lowered it back into her pants.

  She quivered at the coldness of the wet steel as the gun moved down into her panties against her soft skin. The corners of her mouth peeled her lips back revealing two rows of clenched teeth. I twisted the gun so that the corner of the long metal slide and ejection port rubbed her clit as it passed.

  When the tip of the barrel pushed into the bottom of her panties, I angled the handle toward me which pulled the whole length of the pistol between her tender crease. Star arched her eyebrows and quickly scanned to make sure no one else was around. Satisfied, she let her head lull back and closed her eyes.

  I dragged the handful of fabric down to touch her with more steel. I could tell that Star's juices were flowing when the metal slid back and forth easier. I pumped the gun with a disjointed rhythm. Long slow grind, stop, then quick, smooth drag.

  I teased her with the tip of the barrel. The blunted front sight and muzzle threatened to plunge in. She put her head against mine, clawed her fingers up the back of my scalp and tensed into a low moan. I cruelly slid the tip down and away but kept the pressure against those smooth lips.

  Click. I turned the safety off. Star gasped and jerked away slightly, her eyes sprung open in disbelief.

  “Be a good girl and turn the safety back on,” I told her with only the ghost of a grin. She tried to pull away to get a better look at the gun but I pulled her in closer with my free hand so she couldn't see it all. “No cheating.”

  Star gently walked her fingers over my hand then down the handle. Careful to stay away from the trigger she found and slowly flipped the lever for the safety, activating it. Click. She bared her teeth at me then sighed in relief.

  “Remy Daniels, You are such an asshol—”

  The gun now safe, I turned it over and pushed the tip of it into her pussy. This time at a better angle so that it could actually slide in.

  “Ugh!” Hey eyes threatened to pop out of her head. “Oh fuck,” She stared at me in excited shock but never asked me to stop so I didn't.

  I eased it in deeper. She was so wet. Seeing her brimming with fear and yearning but with absolute trust in me was almost too hot to bear. My cock was hard enough to split my jeans and stab her. I pulled the gun out of her. Her back hunched and she draped herself over me, relieved but short of breath from excitement.

  “You fucking monster. I want you so bad,” Star whispered in my ear.

  The wet gun metal glistened in the white flood lights from the parking lot. Locking eyes with her, I brought the tip of it to my lips and tasted it “Mmm... Much better.”

  She dragged her bottom lip past her biting teeth. She unzipped my pants, put a hand through my boxers to grab my rigid cock and used it as a handle to pull me into the room. The door slammed shut behind us.

  She threw me onto the bed. White hot fire streaked through my ribs and chest at the impact. “Oh shit, Remy are you—” I held up a hand to stop her concern.

  I exhaled and let the pain die down. Then smiled. I've laid next to this woman for weeks and haven't been able to touch her the way I wanted to. That ended now. Pain or no pain.

  It was slower than I'd have liked but I eventually got my damn shirt off. She looked me over. I was all tattoos and a patchwork of stitches. And she was pure sex. Especially when she peeled off that silly cat shirt. I yearned for her, my dick couldn't have been any harder. Her body screamed for my touch.

  She dropped her bottoms and walked around to the side of the bed near my head.

  “You got me all revved up. You sure you're up for this. I don't want to hurt you.” Star teased, standing there touching that heavenly clit. Flicking, pressing and rubbing. It
was torture, punishment for the gun thing. “Why don't you just watch me instead?”

  Star's pussy was so close that I could taste her scent. My eyes burned for her. I couldn't refrain any longer I grabbed her and pulled her over me onto the bed. My chest screamed at the torquing motion. That soft tight pussy beckoned for me. Everything else I pushed out of my head.

  I had her arms pinned. My legs over hers with my raging cock pressed over her pussy. I dove into those inviting puffy nipples first. I bit down on the hard nub and craned back stretching her tit toward me while rolling my tongue around the tip of her nipple. I studied her face to find the line between delight and discomfort and right when she wanted more I released her.

  I put one of her legs on my good shoulder, squeezed her thighs and sank my teeth into her calf. Star propped herself up so that she could get at me better. She licked her palms and furiously stroked my cock.

  My mind swam as she squeezed my shaft tighter. Her every digit worked up to and over the ridge of my sensitive head, then down and back again. Both hands milked me, moving in tandem. One at the top and the other at the base. The sensation flooded through every inch of my dick. She was unraveling me.

  “Please,” she moaned.

  I wanted to toy with her more but after wanting her like this for so long I couldn't stop myself. I jerked my cock away, slapped her pussy with the tip and ground myself along every one of her bumps and folds. When neither of us could bare to be apart any longer I thrust into her.

  Star cut off an escaping scream which became a lips-pressed moan. She was soaked, open and ready for me. I didn't ease in. I wasn't gentle. Fuck foreplay, this was sweaty, pent up passion that fucking demanded release. I wanted my cock to cut her in half.

  Every thrust contorted me, racked me with ache. My body was an orchestra. It played pain like a symphony. The ache in my ribs was the brass section. My chest wounds pulsed like the beating of drums and my shoulder and back ricocheted pain like a set of goddamn symbols. My body was on fire.

  Behind the agony, stronger even, was the fuck. I pushed through the pain, it lit me up but it only made me want her more.

  Star was my rib-shaking bass line, that rhythmic thrumming that rattled my soul. It reverberated outward through each limb. It drowned out every other screaming instrument. Her pussy was the notes that kept me grounded in ecstasy. I was truly alive between her thighs.

  Star's smooth curves, the softness of her skin... I was infatuated, rocked with pleasure. I ravished her. I buried my cock into her as deeply as I could and she crushed me from the inside.

  “I'm coming, I'm coming,” she cried out. I barely heard her and kept my pace. If anything I rammed my cock into her swollen pussy faster, harder. The pain made my eyes water but it felt amazing.

  “Remy,” she managed to say in between breathy gasps. “Your chest...”

  I was bleeding. I felt the skin tear and one of the wounds reopen a while ago but I didn't care. The blood ran down my chest like lava and I was so close.

  I came, coating her as I pulled out.

  The release and exhaustion physically dropped me to the bed beside her. Everything that was muted before roared up with a vengeance. I didn't cry out or grunt but Star could sense my anguish. She immediately rolled out of bed and turned on a light.

  “Oh shit. How bad is it?” Star was worried but calm. She'd seen far worse by now.

  “Just the one.” The stitches on the wound closest to my heart ripped out. I took the casing off a pillow and applied it as pressure to stem the bleeding.

  “What can I do?”

  “Take the car, hit up a drugstore. See if you can find a sewing kit and some gauze.” I looked around. The place was filthy to begin with and we didn't do it any favors. I was covered in blood and who knows what else. “Pick up some disinfectant too. We tend to make a mess of things.” I cracked her a smile to let her know that all this wasn't that big a deal.

  “You want me to sew you up? Are you sure? I've never done anything like that before.” She wiped herself down and started getting dressed.

  She looked nervous but she'd be able to handle it. Sewing cloth and skin wasn't all that different. Same principles applied. It's actually kind of hard to fuck up once you get rolling.

  “You never put the safety of a gun on before either. You learned that pretty well.”

  Star had wiggled her pants halfway up when she paused to look at me, it was a sexy sight. Had I been less broken I'd have had her wiggle them back down. She stood there a moment at a loss for words, wearing a mask of disbelief and feigned outrage. Eventually her mischievous smile betrayed her and her resolve broke. She loved it and she knew that I knew she did.

  “You're lucky you have a cute ass. It's the only reason I tolerate you.” Star kissed me.

  “Have you seen this mug?” I playfully tapped my cheek scar. Oddly enough, laying on the bed covered in blood, stitched up like a voodoo doll, my cheek was the only part of me that wasn't screaming with pain. “I'm pretty all over.”

  “You sure you're alright. We haven't talked much about what happened at the Lobos clubhouse.”

  “I don't know how much there is to talk about, five bullets pretty much sums up the experience. I'm just sorry you had to be there to watch it all go down.”

  “If I hadn't been there, you'd probably be dead.”

  “Probably. I owe you one.”

  “Technically two, but who's counting?” She shrugged, letting the tone lighten back up. “I just want you to know that I'm with you. Until the end. We're all we have now.”

  “I know.” I grabbed her hand. She was completely right. We'd both lost our families. “I'll get us through. I promise you.”

  “We'll get us through, Remy.” She squeezed my hand. There was a fierceness in her tone that I loved more than anything.

  I nodded. Star had proved to me that she was tough enough for anything this life could throw at her. She wasn't that innocent, pretty piece-of-ass wasting away at a gas station anymore. She was so much more now.

  “Go, I'll be OK.” I kissed her.

  Star looked me over another minute then finished dressing and left.

  I rolled off the bed and rummaged through my duffel bag. The bag was a lot lighter than I'd realized. After paying Doc, getting this motel, and a few other things there wasn't much cash left. Apparently we'd be getting a clean slate from money as well. It looked like we'd have to fly below the radar in Lobos country a little while longer until we had the cash to start new somewhere more neutral and I was fit enough for the journey.

  Star had already scouted the area for some waitress jobs. I'd pick up something temporary too when I was back on my feet. I had money, but most of it was stashed in my room back at the clubhouse. Not a place I should be showing up to any time soon. Who knew if it was even still there. Probably wasn't. Once a member dies, unless there's a will or next of kin, any money he had goes right back into the club. To them I was dead and it wasn't like I had to hide the money while I was alive. The club knew where my safe was but no one ever went into my room while I wasn't there. At least not without a search warrant.

  I found what I was looking for. A bottle of whiskey. I sighed when I saw that it was Old Crow Reserve. It'd been a long time since I put together this stash. In a bag with over twenty grand in cash and hardware, I had put in a ten dollar bottle whiskey.

  I chuckled. If whiskey was my biggest concern, I was doing alright. I climbed back onto the bed and drank my whiskey. I tried wrapping my head around what a legit life with Star was going to look like. Part of me was worried that I couldn't hack going straight. That all I was good at was putting two wheels on the ground and putting out fires. I was willing to try though. I was willing to try for Star.

  * * * * *

  “Ah, marron... How many times I gotta tell you, Thompson? Between these two fucking bones.”

  We nearly ran out of money a few weeks back and I was now healed enough to work. I picked up a job at a Morettis' House of M
eat while Star waitressed at Nachomama's Mexican Kitchen.

  “Fucking show me then, Moretti.” It was a constant battle reining in my irritation with the owner's endless nitpicking.

  Finding work with no ID had been tricky, I'd been rejected from most places outright and the few I did find weren't good fits for me. I'd landed one warehouse gig a week ago but had to leave the following day when the feds raided the place. It was a front for a Lobos drug running distribution operation. I'd just barely gotten out of there in time.

  Now I found myself at Moretti's. From what I could tell the only thing he was guilty of was racism and price gouging. He was also the micro management type, which always drove me up a fucking wall. I'd used a fake name— Ronald Thompson. He knew something was up with me but didn't ask a lot of questions and he paid under the table. As long as I showed up on time and did my job he didn't give a damn.

  “Get outta the goddamn way. Here, here and here.” His arthritic fingers shakily snatched the knife out of my hands. He had the chicken fully quartered and separated in a minute thirty. I was pretty good with a knife but he was something else entirely. This was art. “Clean this up. Put the meat in the icebox.”

  As impressive as he was Moretti was a terrible teacher. He went too fast for me to grasp the process. He didn't pause to tell me where the cuts were and why they were done like that. The process was so automatic to him that he probably didn't realize how fast he was going.

  “Alright, I understand the cuts for the legs but how do you hold it to best expose the cutting lines?” I asked picking up another prepped and plucked chicken.

  “Goddamnit, Thompson! The fuck do I pay you for? What'sa matter with your eyes? I just showed you! Put the meat away. You're working the killing cone and easy pluck for the rest of the day.”

  I buried the tip of the knife in the cutting board with such force that a running split threatened to snap the wood in half. Better that than his wrinkly forehead.