Dream & Dare

by Susan Fanetti

  It didn’t hurt at all. To her, it felt like all of her nerves were winding around his cock as he pushed into this place no cock had ever gone before. Winding around him and holding him, thrumming with every possible sensation in the known universe and beyond it.

  “The high won’t last long. Touch yourself, baby. Make the most of it.”

  Staring up into his handsome, wise face, she put her hand down and found her clit, wet and aching.

  Sweet Jesus! “Oh Hooj! Oh my God, it’s so good, it’s so good, it’s so good.”

  “I love it when you talk to me,” he panted. “I’ve wanted to fuck this beautiful ass since I first saw you. This is mine. You’re mine.” She saw him look down and knew he was watching their bodies coming together. “Look at that. God, that’s beautiful. I want you to feel this later and know that you’re mine.”

  “And you’re mine,” she gasped.

  His eyes came up and found hers. “Forever.”

  She nodded.

  “I need you to come for me, Beebs. I need to watch you come while my dick is in your ass. I need to feel it.”

  She was close, but not quite there, and she could tell that the high was ebbing already. Was it even possible to come on command?

  The question became rhetorical when Hoosier pushed his fingers into her pussy and curled them upward, against that place inside her that felt like no other. “Come on, baby.”

  He was in her ass and her pussy at the same time. Her own hand was on her clit, rubbing in a familiar, and efficient, rhythm. She was filled and stimulated every which way, and now she was coming on command, the biggest orgasm she’d ever had in her whole life. As it grew inside her, turning her into a creature of pure id, she shook and thrashed, lifting her hips to meet him, making him thrust into her even harder. He shifted, moving over her, pressing her down into the bed, grunting violently with every forward surge, and she felt his balls bouncing against her.

  Then he sucked a nipple into his mouth, and it was too much. So much pleasure it was an agony. More ecstasy than she could stand. “God, Hooj! No, oh fuck, no! No!” Then her wet came down with such a rush it seemed to splash over their hands, and what happened inside her was nothing short of an explosion. Her vision dimmed to fog and glitter, and she screamed.

  Far, far away, she heard Hoosier make a sound like a roar and felt him jerking and seizing against her.

  He eased out of her as soon as he was done. She felt it at that distance, and it didn’t hurt. Then he collapsed at her side, and for a timeless span, they were still, the only sound in the room the mingled heaves of their erratic, desperate breath.

  Hoosier moved first, rolling to his side and leaning over her. He brushed her hair from her eyes, and she realized that she was soaked in sweat. The high of the popper was gone, leaving a headache in its wake. And yes, she felt what they’d done. She was sore. But not hurt.

  “Beebs? You said no, but I couldn’t stop. And you were jacking yourself off so hard I couldn’t make sense if you wanted me to stop. Tell me I didn’t hurt you.”

  She took a deep breath but couldn’t find words. He held her face in his hand, cupping her jaw. “Bedelia Beth, open your eyes and talk to me.”

  Instead, she covered his hand with hers and turned her face into his palm. She had to cry. She wasn’t sad. She wasn’t hurt. But she needed to cry. So she pursed her lips against the tough skin of his palm, and she cried.

  “Jesus Christ, Beebs. Come on. Please talk to me.”

  It took a while more, but she pulled herself together. Pressing another kiss to his palm, which now tasted of her tears, she turned and smiled up at him. God, he looked scared and worried—and totally in love with her. “I’m not hurt. I’m just…I don’t know. I never felt anythin’ like that before. I feel like I’m changed. I know that don’t make sense, but that’s the best I can say it.” She touched his face, smoothing the worry from his brow. “I think you just officially ruined me for anybody else forever.”

  His fear was supplanted with joy, his worry with pride. He grinned down at her.

  “Good.”

  ~oOo~

  Hoosier had an iron grip on the framed photo of them standing under that tacky wicker wedding arch, which was not so different from the tacky wicker homecoming arch she’d stood under with Joel. It wasn’t the best photo from that day—the best one had been sitting on her dresser in their bedroom and was now lost to them forever—but it was a good reminder of a great day.

  Sitting next to him on the bed, Bibi felt flushed and restless. Why on earth had she talked about their wedding night? And in such detail! She guessed she really needed to get laid. They’d still had a healthy, happy, raunchy sex life, even after so many years. But it had been months, nearly four now, since they’d been able to be together like that. And it would be months before it would happen again.

  If it ever would happen again.

  She kicked that awful thought to the curb. “You did ruin me for anybody else, you know. I’ve never even been tempted to stray. You’ve been all I need, all I want, since the first night.”

  It was time for her to go. She hated leaving, every day she hated it, but she made a point to be home with Faith and Demon and the kids in time to have dinner and spend some time with them. She was a guest in their house, even though they both yelled at her for saying it. She had nothing, until Hoosier came back to her she would have nothing, and she wanted to be more to the people who loved her and had taken her in than just a boarder.

  “I gotta go, baby.” She took the photo from him. He held on for a second, long enough for her to think about letting him keep it, but then he let go. When she had the photo in her own hands, she could see the rest of Hoosier’s body, which had been obstructed by the picture.

  He was hard.

  Noticeably, impressively hard. Other than occasional, half-staff reflex erections, Hoosier hadn’t been hard since the fire.

  “Oh, Hooj,” Bibi whispered. “Baby, you are there. You’re so close to me. Come on, baby. Come on. Come back.” She moved her hand down. Over the covers, she caressed this beloved part of his beloved body. She ran the length of him with her hand. He grunted, and her eyes flew to his.

  Sad and lonely eyes looked back at her. The same look he always had. He was with her but not, close but far. Desperate and lost. She curled her hand around him, and she saw his eyes flare.

  “Hooj…please.”

  His hand went to hers and knocked her clumsily away.

  SIX

  Bibi set Lana in the baby swing and strapped her in. The sweet little girl grinned up at her and kicked her legs happily.

  Demon had built an elaborate swing set behind the house, under a scruffy live oak. Swing set wasn’t even the right term—playland was better. A row of three swings—a sling, a baby swing, and a double glider—connected to a raised platform with a climbing wall on one side, a rope net on another, and a slide and a ladder on a third. At the top of the platform was a little play cottage, painted pale grey with white trim and a red shingle roof, with a split door, and little flower boxes under paned windows. A wee kitchen and table and chairs were arranged inside.

  Seeing Demon come into his fullness as a father, Bibi was often struck with a proud melancholy. He was so good with his children, so patient and loving, but not a pushover at all. And it was blazingly obvious that he was, every day, in everything he did, making the life for them that he had never had himself. Their childhood was the definition of idyllic.

  Tucker’s had not always been so. But he had been rescued from a childhood like his father’s, and now, not even three years later, he barely remembered the trauma of his first years. He was a happy little boy who’d caught up with his peers, and the only reminders of his start in life were a few scars that still made Bibi’s heart sour to see.

  This evening wasn’t as idyllic as usual, and as Bibi pushed Lana in the swing, listening to her sing her nonsense toddler song, she looked over and studied Tucker. He was standing at the ro
pe net, one hand around a rope and one foot on a cross piece. He stared at the house. Virgil sat nearby, his hound eyes steady on his boy.

  “C’mon, Tuck. You want to push Lana for a while?” He liked to push her, and she giggled when he did.

  He didn’t respond.

  “Tucker, honey. It’s okay. Come help Granny. Tucker, I’m talkin’ to you.” Finally he turned, and she sent him an encouraging smile. “It’s okay. I promise.”

  “Pa yelled at Mommy.”

  Mommy had yelled first, and they were still yelling even now. But Bibi didn’t point either of those tidbits out. “I know. Sometimes people yell.”

  He shook his head. His eyes were wide and afraid, and she wondered whether he truly had forgotten all about those first years. Demon had never hurt him or even threatened him. It had been Tucker’s birth mother causing him harm. But Demon had had trouble controlling his emotions, and he used to make what Tucker had then called ‘bad noise’—yelling and raving. It hadn’t happened in a long time, though. Not since they’d moved out here to the desert. Before that, even.

  The truth was that Demon and Faith did not yell, not at each other, and not at or around their kids. Bibi couldn’t think of a time they’d ever even argued. There had been that day at Bart and Riley’s, when Demon had lost his shit and gone for Hoosier, but that was different. Anything bad between Demon and Faith had been pain laid on them, not bad feelings between them. Never that.

  Until tonight, it seemed.

  Bibi was a little concerned herself. She’d made a point not to overhear the shouting and to get the kids out of the house as quickly as she could, so she didn’t know what the fight was about. But she couldn’t believe it wasn’t something that wouldn’t blow over. So she focused on the kids and waited for the wind to take the fight away.

  “C’mon, Tuck. Swing with us.”

  As Tucker finally headed over, two hens got scrappy with each other on their way back to the coop. This little flock of hens were the world’s most compliant birds. In the morning, they were lined up at the coop door like workers waiting to clock in, and when the sun set, they all clucked their way back inside. During the day, they roamed happily around the yard, mixing with the cats and the goats and the dog.

  Virgil saw his job as people minder, and he could not have cared less what the chickens did. He let Sly, their mean old tom, herd chickens. Which he was doing now, more or less. Bibi thought that cat—who, hell, must’ve been fifteen, sixteen, maybe older—was finally starting to slow down. For a long time, he just glared at the two hens flapping and squawking.

  Tucker, a caretaker himself, called out, “No, Penny! No, Francie! No!” and trotted over to split up the bout. Then, Sly got off his furry butt and chased them toward the open coop door.

  Bibi watched all that play out, absentmindedly pushing Lana in the swing.

  “No!”

  Bibi’s head swiveled back to the baby. “Lana?”

  “NO!” Lana screamed and then giggled and clapped her hands.

  “Did you just say ‘no,’ honeypot?”

  “No! No! Nononono! No!” She giggled and clapped, kicking her chubby little legs in the swing. “NO!”

  She was ten months old, and that was her first word. “No” was her first word. And the previously quiet little miss had shrieked it at the top of her voice. Oh, Lord save them all.

  “Lala’s yelling, Granny!” Tucker ran over and peered hard at his sister. He patted her head. “Shh, Lala. It’s okay.”

  Bibi laughed. “It is okay, Tuck. She’s just excited. That’s the first word she ever said. We should go in and tell Pa and Mommy.”

  “Are they done yelling?”

  She listened, and the house was quiet at that moment. “If they’re not, they will be when we tell them this.”

  ~oOo~

  News of Lana’s new achievement indeed derailed the fight, but not the tension. They made happy with their kids for the rest of the evening, but after Tucker and Lana were in bed, Faith said that she needed ‘some time,’ and she left the house, pulling off in Dante, her ancient El Camino, which rarely got driven anymore. These days, Faith usually drove a van.

  A morose Demon went out to the garage, and Bibi was alone in the house. She cleaned up the kitchen and tried to watch a little television, but the atmosphere in the whole house was still off, and she was restless. Part of that was because things had been off with Hoosier the past couple of days, too. More off than usual, anyway. He was getting frustrated with his therapy, and he’d had a violent meltdown a couple of days before. Though they were normally careful and conservative about giving him sedatives, they’d had him on Thorazine since, and she’d found there was no point at all in trying to tell him the story of them. He was barely aware she was in the room with him at all.

  She needed Demon and Faith to be good. This little slice of Eden, she needed it perfect. Connor was doing okay, making his way, planning a wedding, and a life, with Pilar. They were happy, and they gave Bibi hope, too. But they were still new and wrapped up together, and she didn’t want to get in the middle of that. They were figuring out their life together, and Bibi knew it wouldn’t be a life like this, or like the one she and Hoosier had built together over decades.

  This little family, which had overcome so much to even be—she needed them to be good. The best thing about staying here, relying on the love and kindness of these two young people who were as dear to her as if they were her own children, was the daily reminder that joy could in fact rise up out of utter destruction. It was a reminder she needed every day.

  She went out the back door. Virgil whined, unhappy that the last grownup was walking out of the house while the kids were asleep. But she was only going a few feet, and Demon had a monitor in the garage. Virgil could keep an eye on things for a few minutes. She left the door open, so he could come out if he needed to.

  Demon and his Horde brothers had built an enormous garage, big enough for Dante, and the van, and Demon’s truck and bikes, and a workspace for him, too. That last overhead door was rolled up, and he had all the lights on and music playing low. He was working again on Hoosier’s bike.

  Bibi didn’t come out here much; she never had been interested in the bikes, except for riding bitch with her man. She’d unwillingly picked up more than she ever wanted to know about Harleys, simply because anytime two or more bikers landed within ten feet of each other, most all they could talk about was bikes.

  But she knew Hoosier’s chopper. It hadn’t been his main bike for years, but she knew that bike. She’d done thousands of miles on that saddle with him over the years, and she felt the loss of it as keenly as Hoosier would have, if he’d known.

  As she walked toward the garage, she pulled up short. It was almost done. No seat or handlebars yet, but Demon was just then attaching the extended fork to the frame. It was Hoosier’s bike she was seeing. His bike, the one she’d ridden with him the night they’d met. His bike, reborn.

  Shaking, she finished her walk to the garage. Demon heard her coming and looked up. She didn’t like to see him so stressed again.

  “Hey, Mama. Sorry about…sorry.” He walked to his worktable, and she followed after him and put her hand on his back. When he turned to her, she pulled him into an embrace.

  “What’s goin’ on, darlin’?”

  “She left,” he said, his face on her shoulder.

  “Just for a little while, Deme. She’s takin’ a timeout.”

  He stood straight and stepped back. “She never needed one before.”

  “So tell me what’s goin’ on.” Maybe she was meddling, but these two were her family, and they clearly needed somebody to meddle. “You had Tuck all stirred up.”

  He dropped his tool on the table and raked his hand over his head. “I know. I talked to him. But fuck. I screwed up.”

  “What, Deme?”

  “I…I want another kid. I guess I’ve been pushing. Too hard.”

  A surprised laugh escaped Bibi’s lips befor
e she could stop it. He really was trying to fill his life as full as he could, as fast as he could. “Lana’s only ten months old, Deme. That’s pretty fast.”

  “That’s what Faith says. But we lost so much time. I just feel…I don’t know what I feel. Like we need to hurry.”

  “You can’t make up that time, hon. The past is gone, and there’s nothin’ to do about it. That’s good, too. There’s shit in the back window you don’t want to have to see again. You’re both young. Faith’s not even thirty. You got lots of time.”

  “She’s so mad. I didn’t mean to make her mad. I don’t know how I did.”

  “Because what you want—that’s all on her. For a long time, it’s on nobody but her. Makin’ a baby is woman’s work once the fun is done, and there’s no way around that. Motherin’ a tiny one is woman’s work, too. Runnin’ this place—that’s mostly on Faith, right? You’re off with the club pretty regular. She works from here and takes care of all the critters you drag home, and she raises the kids you already have, and gets Tuck to his school and his therapy. And she has work of her own, too. If she doesn’t want to add more to all that, then you need to step back and accept it. Quietly. You have a great home and a sweet family. You’re a wonderful daddy and husband. You come home, and you’re here when you’re home, and that’s not nothin’. But maybe you’re not seein’ how much work all this perfection is. It’s a lot of work, Deme. A new baby, with Lana still so little, would add a lot more.”