Delayed

by Nathan Kingsly

  Taking a seat at the counter, a shiver runs up my spine, and my arm recoils from the bar. There is a suction sound as it comes unstuck from whatever someone spilled. Whatever it was, it has an overly sweet smell. Rubbing at the hair on my arm to try to get them to unstick from one another, I move a few seats over.

  The bartender, a stocky black guy, notices my exchange with the counter, walks over, and rubs it down. “Sorry about that. What can I get you?”

  “Margarita on the rocks.” The smell of tequila separates from the other scents in the room even before my order slips from my lips.

  His eyebrows shoot up, I get this reaction a lot, and I’m sure as shit not going to apologize for it.

  “You got it.” He says, after I don’t change my mind, and ambles off.

  There's a good chance he's never been to Mexico where they are masters at making it. I admitted, when I visited a few days for a life break in college, I got spoiled. Since returning to the states, I became obsessed with finding a place that can make it as good. I’m still searching.

  Movement catches my attention when I lose interest in the bartender making my drink. With sleep deprivation, there's a chance my eyes are playing a trick on me, but behind the bottles of liquor, a mirror reflects my tired green eyes. Despite the dark circles, my green gaze is lasers. On any given day, that’s not unusual, but even to me, they look manic, my anxiety showing through. My dark hair that on any other day lays flat is sticking up at angles I couldn’t accomplish again if I attempted with gel. Running around the airport like this would have anyone convinced I’m loose from the looney bin, and all the stares now make sense. Sighing, I pat down what I can, but my eyes, I can do nothing about.

  “Here you go. That’s eight dollars and seventy-six cents.” He places the glass in front of me. Cursing the high price in my head, I slide over the last ten I have in my wallet.

  When I take my first taste, my lips pucker. That lime wasn’t ready for this drink, especially the amount saturating it. Yet, I didn’t expect greatness from an airport bar, and I’m never one to waste alcohol.

  “When you talk, you’re predictable, but everything else surprises me.” The voice sounds familiar.

  Down the bar to my left, I see that girl from the rail train smiling at me and shaking her head. Without a word, she hops down, drags her little wheeled suitcase behind her, and takes the stool next to mine.

  She holds out a hand, “I’m Emma.”

  “Liam.” I return her handshake. It's smooth as I imagine her shoulder and the rest of her body might feel.

  “So, Liam, how do you do that?” She rests an elbow on the bar, and a hand lifts her chin.

  “Do what?" I ask, twisting the stool so that I can face her.

  “I’m not usually surprised when it comes to men. You’re all pretty predictable.” She shrugs. “Being a middle child with four brothers, there’s not much I can’t guess.”

  “How’d you make it out alive?”

  Her expression bleeds from her face, then she laughs. When she smiles, it brightens not only her face but creates a forcefield around her. She leans in close enough I can feel the warmth of her skin but not the press of it. Her eyes shift conspiratorially before whispering, “There may be hope for you yet.”

  Fuck, she smells good. It makes me wonder if she tastes better. When her eyes look into mine before shifting to my lips, it has me asking myself if she’s thinking the same thing. Leaning in closer, it would be easy to find out. Her breath is warm and tinged with alcohol. Only another inch, my racing heart is drumming in my chest.

  The bartender decides that moment to ask if we need anything else. We straighten, and our moment is severed. There's no way he can misinterpret my scowl.

  Emma, on the other hand, isn't as hostile. She smiles at him and shakes her head. Why does that irritate me? Why should I care if she smiles like that for everyone?

  When he's gone, she looks back, "What were we saying?"

  "I asked how you survived with four brothers."

  “Oh right, I have tricks of my own, but if I’m honest, it’s due to my brothers being overbearing protectors." She takes a sip of her drink, some type of fruity cocktail that's as bright as an orange.

  “I can see that.” My reply fell flat.

  Pursing her lips, she tilts her head as she gives me a cursory glance. “You can, can you? What gives me away?” She looks herself up and down, and I can’t resist the temptation to do the same. What is it about this woman? Well, she’s anything but passive.

  “You wear confidence like you’ve got people on call to come defend you even when you’re wrong.”

  “Oh.” She moves her straw in the drink, and I notice her chipping blue nail polish. “I do, so play nice.” She shifts in her chair, uncrossing and re-crossing her legs.

  “I’ll think about it, but I have tricks of my own.” Leaning back in my seat, I give her a smile. When her eyes linger on my lips, I don’t fight the urge to bring attention to them as I bite them, and I enjoy her cheeks flush.

  “I’m discovering that.” She breathes, and her throat works as she swallows.

  “So.” I tilt my head, some of my hair falling onto my forehead. “Where are you headed?”

  She laughs, and I’m starting to love the sound.

  My phone chooses that moment to go off in my pocket. Pulling it out, and seeing Mia’s name flash on the screen, I press the side button. I assuage the guilt by deciding to re-book my flight after this storm clears; she must know about it by now. Setting my phone on the bar beside my drink, I wait to hear Emma’s response.

  She straightens in her chair, and her fingers rub at the base of her throat. “A wedding, for one of my aforementioned brothers.” Her eyes wander and point to my phone. “Do you need to get that?”

  Looking down, I shake my head and push the side button again. This time, flipping the phone on its face, but not before seeing the icon flash on the screen that a voicemail waits for me. I’ll check it in a minute.

  “No, sorry about that. So, your brother is getting married? Let me guess; you don't like the bride?”

  Her expression morphs into how I likely looked when I started to drink my lime spiked alcohol. "He could have chosen better."

  "Why do you think that?" I finish off my drink and push the glass towards the inner edge.

  "I don't have to think, I know. An off-and-on-again girlfriend is not the woman you spend your life with."

  "Good point."

  "Tell my brother that…" Her sentence drifts, but her gaze doesn’t. She studies me so intensely that I’m sure she’s planning on taking something from the inside. Why aren’t my warning bells firing?

  "What? Do I have something on my face?" Rubbing my face down, it comes back clean.

  When I look back, she's shaking her head. A shock goes through my body as her warm hand brushes against my forearm.

  "Nothing, I'm sorry, I was just thinking." Her hand is gone too soon, waving between us as if to clear the thoughts from the air before it grips her straw again.

  Swallowing hard, I can’t shake the feeling of her touch. It lingers under my skin. Every time Emma touches me, it doesn't seem to know how to stay on the surface. It burrows and swims in my veins, making my heart skip a beat in my chest. She’s dangerous. The kind of danger I’m not sure I should risk, but equally unsure if I can allow her to be another haunting ‘what if’ in my life.

  "Bar’s closing," the bartender starts. "So, drink what you have left, and get somewhere safe before this thing hits."

  Emma looks back at me and brushes an escaped hair behind one ear. "Do you have a place to stay?"

  I shake my head. "Not yet." Fuck, I didn’t check any of the nearby hotels. Grabbing my phone, I put in my pin and pull up a browser.

  "The airline got me a room across the street.” I look back to find her chin dipped submissively, her eyes peering through her dark lashes. My erection grows against my zipper. Fuck, what I wouldn't do to see her wearing that exp
ression and nothing else. “I bet it will be a nightmare trying to find a place. So, you can have the couch in my room, if you'd like?"

  Her offer surprises me as if she's read my mind. Could she be hoping, like I am, that this day turns around with a lot less clothing? When she bites her lip and her tongue peeks out to soothe it, I’m not sure I have a choice anymore, and right now, I could use a distraction.

  Knowing my mom is as safe as she can be, and Mia locked in her house with the best security system I could afford to get her, I will allow myself one night.

  “Thanks. Let’s get out of here.”

  We leave with her glass half empty and hail a cab. It’s not until we are pulling up to the hotel that it comes into focus in this downpour. When she gets out of the cab, she says something, and though I’m right behind her, it’s drowned out by the rain. The wind is causing it to slash at a sharp angle; even with the overhang, neither of us come out untouched.

  Shielding my face, I grab our bags from the popped trunk. The cabby did not bother to help, and I regret giving him a tip.

  Reaching the front desk, Emma is there getting the room keys. My free hand grasps the back of her neck, my thumb traps a raindrop coming from the edge of her hairline behind her ear, and I rub it away. She shivers, and her grip on the counter turns white. “Um-yes, it's the two of us.” She bites her lip. “So, can we get two keys?”

  “Of course, Ms.-”

  “Has anyone entered the room today?” I interrupt.

  The clerk looks perplexed. “Of course not, sir.”

  “Can you check?” After a long second, his eyes go to the computer again.

  “No one has been in this particular room since 11:30 this morning, and it was the cleaning department.” He looks up.

  “Thank you,” I say, He nods, and I watch as he encodes two cards, then a third in case we lose one.

  “What was that about?” she asks as we start our ascent to find our room. I can feel her eyes burning into the side of my face.

  “Nothing wrong with being safe.” I do my best to shrug non committedly.

  She gives me a look that I see in the corner of my eye. “Safe? From what, dust bunnies and crumbs?” Her brothers did their job keeping her safe if she believes those are the worst things that can wait for you in a dark room.

  Her hand slides against my forearm, and I pause on the steps as her fingers tangle with mine. Her smile is bright and innocent, her touch as warm as her smile. With her hand in mine, I can almost forget my ever-present weariness of my surroundings.

  However, even with the front desk attendant's assurance, and Emma’s teasing, I still ask her to stay by the door as I check. When I know it’s safe, I pull her inside.

  The door to the hotel room barely clicks shut before I hike her up my body and press her against it. Where the rain touched her, her clothes cling, cold and wet, but my fingers feel the heat of her underneath.

  She moans even before our mouths touch, and it makes me pause. There's something in the intensity of the way she looks; wild eyes searching, heaving breath sweet in my face. She's uncharted territory, not yet proven to be safe. However, my desire outweighs the instincts that have ruled me for so long. I want to know how she sounds, feels under my palms, and know the taste of her on my tongue.

  “I never do this.” A flush creeps across her cheeks.

  I lean my forehead against hers. “Neither do I,” I assure her.

  “I’m not just saying that." She shakes her head, and I pull back. “I’m that girl that needs a title before she does this step. But I’ve had a shit week, and you’re looking like a good decision. The person that called you earlier, she’s not your girlfriend is she?”

  I shake my head, “I’m unattached.” That reminds me I have a voicemail to listen to. After … .

  Her shoulders relax. “I am too.”

  Ever since I saw her on that rail, something piqued my interest. That interest undefined; she’s everything opposite to what I like, at least what I thought I did because I find I’m unable to resist her. The way she’s looking between my eyes and mouth, I’d say she’s unable to either.

  She meets me in our kiss, my tongue finding hers, and I thought I was beyond feeling excited flutters.

  One of my hands wander up her body and finds the underside of her breast. My thumb searches for the hard bead of her nipple, and I smile against her lips as she lets out a whimper.

  “Let me show you how much of a good decision I am.”

  At some point in my statement, her hand finds its way down and cups my bulge.

  “Shit.” I hiss through my teeth. Her fingers grip me harder, and I’m surprised I have a neuron to fire that's not screaming to get her naked. “I don’t have a condom. This wasn’t exactly on my agenda today.” With what's going on outside, I doubt a drugstore is open to grab one or several.

  “Oh.” Her hands move to my shoulders, “Have you been careful in the past?”

  “Careful, meaning, I’ve never not used a condom, then the answer is, yes.”

  “Me either, and I’m on birth control.”

  “Are you saying…”

  “That I want you, yes.”

  “Then, it’s time to move,” I say, and she bobs her head in agreement. Before we move away from the door, I deadbolt it and set the chain, all while Emma smiles, shaking her head.

  “You know you need to scan a card to get in here, right?” She taunts. “The bolt and chain seem like overkill.”

  “I want to be the only one to see you naked. No reason to take chances.” She giggles at my response, and I wish it were the only reason I needed it.

  We land on the bed, me hovering above her. Her legs are still wrapped around my middle when she grabs my shirt. I fall straight into the kiss that’s even more frenzied than our first. When we come up for air, there’s something different about her gaze; it’s no longer searching but unmasked with sexual intent, enough to tighten my balls.

  “Fuck woman, if you look at me like that, I won’t give you what you deserve.” I haven’t been with a woman in a long time, and I want the chance to get acquainted.

  “What do I deserve?” She bites her bottom lip. Leaning down, I lick it and then pull it in my own mouth, gently sucking. Her fingers dig into my shoulders on a gasp.

  When I pull back, I answer, “Everything. Everything, I can convince you to take.”

  “I plan on getting as many versions of that as I can. You need to earn your keep, right?”

  Despite the tension in the air, I laugh. “You’re not paying to stay here, but I have to?”

  “Most definitely.” Her hands glide down my arm, and gooseflesh follow her curious fingers.

  “Then I better start proving my worth. I won’t stop until your legs shake from release, and we get at least one noise complaint.”

  “Don't’ tease me with such a tall order.” She says with a sweet tone.

  Grabbing her shirt at the hem, I bring it up past her white lace bra. The curves of her breasts are a plush temptation and my mouth waters. Her fingers brush mine away before she takes over the job, and her shirt lands somewhere on the floor.

  Her breast fits perfectly in my palm. With my index finger, I glide it across where the swell meets fabric, so soft. “You don’t think I will fill it?” I ask.

  “No, but you should at least try.” My eyes snap to hers, her devilish smile asking me to prove her wrong, and my hand flexes. She gasps and arches into my harsh grip.

  If she wanted it rough, all she needed to do was ask.

  “Such a smart mouth,” I growl. “I was going to taste you, but I don’t think you’ve earned it yet.” Standing, I grip her side and flip her over. Her gasp of surprise, or maybe in anticipation, spurs me on. I grab her leggings and rip them down—no underwear in sight.

  “Dirty girl,” I whisper as I smooth a hand over her bare bottom.

  “I like to be comfortable,” she pants.

  “I like your definition.” My fingers slide down
between her cheeks, where she’s the warmest, and cup her sex. “Fuck, Emma, you’re already so wet.”

  A moan tears from her throat as I dip a finger inside. So smooth, warm, and I bet she would taste amazing on my tongue. A part of me wishes to be on my knees, but we both have to wait to find out if I’m right. When I slide two fingers in and rub her clit with my thumb, she whimpers.

  “Please.” She pants.

  “Please what?”

  She lifts herself up with her forearms and twists to look back. “You know what I want.”

  Raising an eyebrow, I can feel my smirk. “Do I?” I take my fingers out and lick them clean. She tastes like I should already be inside her. Her eyes darken.

  She lays flat, grips either side of her ass, and spreads herself so wide nothing hides from me—all the blood races into my painfully aware erection. For a beat, I'm dizzy, my dick pulsing with wanting to be inside that slick hole that is artfully displayed.

  “Fuck me, Liam. I need you inside me.”

  Feeling like a teenager, I unbutton my jeans, rip them down my thighs, not bothering to take the zipper down. Pushing my boxers only to the point of cradling my balls, I push in.

  We both release a noise of pleasure as I sink inch by inch until I disappear inside her heat.

  “Mother of Christ, Emma, your pussy is tight.”

  For an answer, her insides clench around me, and I grunt, knowing I can no longer stay still. Gripping her shoulders, I pump myself inside her, a satisfying slap reverberating in the room with every rejoining of our bodies. Her words are incoherent as I push myself to go even faster, and her release tightens around my cock as she lets out a rattled groan.

  “L-L-Liam.” She calls. Pulling out, she whimpers, but I’m hardly done with her.

  “Take off your bra.” Leaning forward, I unsnap it for her.

  Her limbs are slow and lazy as she takes one arm out and then the other. The bra falls away.

  “On your knees.”

  “I wouldn’t have expected you to be so commanding in bed.” I smack her ass, and she squeaks.

  “We’re not all as predictable as you think.” But I am predictable. There’s something about her that gets under my skin, pokes, and prods at things that usually stay sleeping. “I said, get on your knees.”