by N. S. Moore
“Please tell me that at least one of them is canoeing. At least with that I can go at a normal pace. All of this slow walking in the tour group is killing me. I almost borrowed someone’s walker yesterday to have something to lean on to keep me from falling on my face out of boredom.”
“Oh, stop. It’s not that bad.”
“Easy for you to say. So which two is it?”
“Canoeing and bird watching.”
“You will totally make my whole fucking year if you tell me that we don’t have to do both. Can we just run for the canoes and skip the bird shit?”
She laughs at the play on words and her whole fucking face lights up.
I like when it does that.
“We have to walk through part of the bird watching territory to get to the canoes. So if you just can handle about a quarter of a mile of walking with the seniors, you’ll be home free.”
“You’re gonna go in the canoe with me, right?” I almost sound desperate, and I hate that Wren’s smile is replaced by wariness—like she thinks that I’m checking to make sure that she doesn’t get away rather than the possibility that I just want to fucking be with her.
“Do you want me in the canoe with you?” she asked, looking down at her shoes.
I tuck a finger under her chin and make her look at me. “Yeah.” She smiles again, and I lean in close and press my mouth close to her ear. “And I want you in the bed with me. And I want you in the shower with me. And I want you bent over the table screaming with pleasure with me.” I run my tongue over the shell of her ear and feel her shiver.
She takes a deep breath and steps away. “We need to meet everyone outside the lobby in ten minutes. We’ll continue this later.”
I’d rather skip the damn birds and the canoe and stay here, but honestly, it hasn’t been as bad as I thought playing tourist. It’s been kind of nice to not be hiding out all day and running all night. It’s been a long time since I’ve actually been up and awake during the day. Actually, I hadn’t realized that I was living like a fucking vampire until I went on the run with Wren.
“You ready?” she asks, standing by the door, her pink hair all sleek and shiny and her ripped jeans and tank hugging her body perfectly.
All I can do was nod.
Fifteen minutes later, we’re boarding the bus, and it seems like everyone is psyched about watching some birds. I still don’t see what the big deal is, but I don’t dwell on it since we won’t be doing it.
Wren chats with a couple of the old ladies who are interested in her hair. It’s kind of funny because, for a bunch of old broads who seemed to be totally freaked out by us a few days ago, they are suddenly very into our weird appearances. First the tattoos, now the hair.
We reach the park, and we let everyone out ahead of us. Part of it is common courtesy. The other is that it gives them a bit of a head start so that I won’t feel like we’re dragging our fucking feet.
“A quarter of a mile,” Wren says, as if reading my mind.
I chuckle because we really are in sync with one another. Does she feel it too? I mean, I know in the beginning I was just this douche who kidnapped her and I know that there’s some fucked up syndrome where victims end up falling for their captors, but I don’t think it’s like that for me and Wren.
For starters, it’s too soon for the syndrome to be an issue. I think that what we have is real. I was attracted to her from the first, even though she annoyed the shit out of me, but as time went on, it went from just being a sexual thing to being…more.
Someone call fucking Hallmark. This shit should be on a card, right?
“So how long have you two been dating?” Ida asks. She’s a tiny old thing who was fascinated by my tattoos yesterday. She’s at the back of the crowd and the first one we see after getting off the bus.
“Not very long,” Wren says and reaches for my hand.
“Well, you’re adorable,” she says. “I love seeing young people in love. The two of you just seem to fit together perfectly. Like you were meant for each other.”
I kind of trip over my own two feet. I mean sure, the old broad could just be spouting all kinds of nonsense, but what if what she was saying was true? Did other people see it too?
“Thanks,” I say. “Where’s Hank? Wasn’t he supposed to be walking with you?”
How the hell is it that I’m suddenly the fucking tour guide?
“Oh, he went ahead to get our binoculars,” she looks over at us and smiles. She’s about a foot and a half shorter than me and moves like a snail, but I like her. “Believe it or not, we were like you once.”
Wren smiles down at her. “What do you mean?”
“Hank was a rebel. He was in the Navy, and when he came home he had a tattoo and rode a motorcycle.” She chuckled at the memory. “My parents had a fit the first time he came and picked me up on it. It wasn’t proper for a young lady to ride on one of those beasts. But you know what?”
“What?” I ask.
“I loved it. He did eventually get a car—mainly to make my parents happy—but I always loved riding on the bike with him.” She sighs and looks at Wren. “Don’t let anyone tell you that there’s anything wrong with either one of you. If this young man makes you happy, don’t let anyone tell you that it’s wrong—because of his hair or his tattoos—all that matters is that he’s good to you.” She looks at me and then back to Wren. “Is he good to you?”
Wren blushes and for a minute, I don’t think she was going to answer. When she finally lifts her head and looks at Ida, she nods. “Yeah. He is.”
“Then you’re a lucky girl.”
Hank walks over and hands Ida a pair of binoculars and then hooks her arm with his. “You kids bird watching today?”
I shake my head. “Not today. Today, I’m gonna take this pretty girl out on the river for a canoe ride.”
“Oh, how romantic,” Ida says. “It’s no motorcycle ride, but I hope you enjoy it.” She winks at Wren as she and Hank veer off with the bird-watching group.
“I don’t know about romantic,” I say as we walk toward the river. “But I think it will make for a good afternoon.
Beside me, Wren nods.
It’s a decent day out. The temps are good, and people are kind and accepting of me and Wren.
No one’s been accepting of me for a long time.
Maybe this is the start of something new. Something good. Maybe, just maybe, things are going to work out. Not just for me. But for us. Me and Wren.
For the first time in a long time, I have hope.
***
To anyone watching us, we’re like a couple of fucking normal people. We’re a couple, spending the day together enjoying ourselves. We’re comfortable with each other. It’s no longer like Wren is my hostage or leverage or whatever the fuck label you may think to use. Right now, Wren’s with me.
And that’s all that matters.
The day is good, dinner with the seniors is actually cool, and now back at the hotel, all I can think of is getting Wren out of her snug jeans and tank top and fucking her until neither of us can remember a damn thing about the past.
The way we met.
She comes out of the bathroom. She’s barefoot and, by the look of it, a little tired. A small smile is on her lips as she drops her shoes and goes to sit on the bed.
I don’t let her get that far.
Coming up behind her, I put my hands on her waist and pull her back against me. I’m hard instantly. Just the feel of her ass against my cock is enough to do it to me.
Over her shoulder, Wren looks at me. It’s not with the fear like she used to or even the indifference that she’s used from time to time. Now, she’s looking at me like…she knows me.
And she wants me.
Glad we’re on the same page.
I can’t quite lose the primal need to claim her—to fuck her hard and fast and make her cry out. But after last night…it’s still there, but I think I can tone it down.
“You’re thinking
awful hard,” she says. I can’t even answer her. I look in her eyes and it’s like…shit, I wish that we didn’t have this history. That I’m not the guy who kidnapped her. That I’m not the guy who fucked her in a basement.
Her eyes narrow at me briefly and then she says, “Don’t think. I want it too.”
I’m lost. I’m so fucking lost that it scares me. Spinning her around, I whip her tank top over her head and roughly grab her tits. She cries out a little, but it know it’s because she likes it. “Do you have any idea how fucking much I want you?”
“Yes.” She smiles at me.
We kiss, and it starts out hard and brutal—like it usually does—and then I realize that I’d rather put my tongue to other uses.
Without warning, I drop to my knees and undo her jeans and peel them and her panties down.
They’re wet.
For a minute, I just lean in and inhale the scent of her. I fucking love it. She looks down at me as I drape one of her legs over my shoulder, and she’s practically quivering with need. “Please…” she whispers.
My tongue licks through her wet folds all the way to her clit, and she instantly bucks against my mouth. She’s so fucking good. She tastes so fucking good, and right now, I’m like a starving man, dying to consume her. I know exactly where she wants me, but I want to play a little.
I let my tongue fuck her and no matter how much she squirms, I avoid her clit again. Not an easy task considering how much I love making Wren come, but I like how she’s pretty much dancing on my face right now.
Reaching up, I put first one finger in and then a second. She’s riding me hard, speaking incoherently and only when I feel like her legs are about to give out do I hone in on her clit. I circle it a couple of times before sucking it into my mouth—effectively bringing her over the edge.
I lap her up until her breathing evens out. Rising to my feet, I get her on the bed before ripping off my own damn clothes. Thank god for the condoms on the night stand because I quickly put one on and, before I can think twice, I slide into her in one stroke.
She cries out my name.
“Look at me,” I demand softly. We’ve played this one before, but it’s different now. I hold still, refusing to move until she opens her eyes. “Tell me what you want,” I coax. “Do you want it hard?” I thrust hard for emphasis. “Or do you want it slow?” I ease in and out of her and watch as her eyes begin to drift closed and a smile crosses her lips.
“Tell me, baby,” I whisper against her ear. “However you want it, I’ll do it.”
Without warning, Wren wraps her legs around my waist. “Hard. I want it hard, Code. Do it. Do it now!”
You don’t have to ask me twice. I take her hard and fast—no finesse, no smooth moves—and yet it’s different. She’s fucking me just as hard as I’m fucking her.
“I love the way you do me,” she says and reaches up and pulls me down for an out-of-control kiss. Our tongues are just as wild, thrusting in and out just like my cock.
“Come for me. Come for me, Wren.”
She does. And it’s the most incredible sound in the world.
I follow her over, holding myself still as wave after wave of pleasure wash over me. It’s never been this good. Never in my life have I had sex like this.
Leaning down, I kiss her. Slowly. Tenderly. And all I can think is that I don’t ever want to let this go.
Nothing’s gonna make me do that.
Not one fucking thing.
Twenty-Nine
Wren
When I wake up the next morning, Code still has his arms around me.
I like it.
A lot.
I’ve never felt this way in life. Like I belong, like I’m treasured, like he knows me for who I really am and wants me anyway.
It’s exhilarating and terrifying at the same time. I feel both emotions coursing through me as I open my eyes and shift in his arms.
I want to keep waking up like this, keep feeling like this, keep following the pathway of light through the dark billows until I reach the bright horizon. I want it so much it hurts. But I just don’t know if it’s possible.
If there can ever be a couple who are inevitably star-crossed, doomed by fate, it’s us. He took me hostage, kidnapped me. I know anyone I talk to right now will say I’m deceived, I’m suffering from Stockholm’s Syndrome, that what I feel isn’t real.
I don’t think that’s what’s going on here, but I’m not sure how I’d argue against them. I could drop everything, give up my whole life, to go with Code to Mexico. It doesn’t really sound that bad. He wants me with him. We could be together, happy, a couple.
I don’t really want to live in Mexico. And I don’t want to do that to my dad.
“What are you thinking?” he asks, as if he senses some of my tumultuous thoughts.
“I’m thinking about what it would be like to live in Mexico.”
I feel his body tighten against mine, but his voice is even as he adjusts us so I’m looking into his face. His eyes are soft. “It might be nice.”
“Would we be on the run the whole time? Can’t Americans be extradited from Mexico or whatever?”
“Yeah. But they’d have to know where I am. You can get lost in Mexico pretty easily.”
“What are you planning to do to support yourself? You’re not going to keep robbing banks, are you?”
“I told you I never wanted to do that. I’ll get a job. I’ll…do something.”
I thought of what Code might have wanted to become if he hadn’t turned to a life of crime. “Is there something you always wanted to be when you grew up?”
He snorted slightly. “I wanted to be a cowboy.”
I smiled, trying to imagine what little-boy-Code would have been like. “I mean later. Were you planning to go to college and everything?”
“Yeah. I don’t really. My parents wanted me to be a doctor, but I never wanted that.”
“I guess you could get some sort of job to begin with and then think through what you want to do in the long run.”
“Yeah.” He lets out a long breath. “All I really wanted was…”
“Was what?”
“I don’t know.” He glances away, as if it’s something hard to admit. “To be free.” He reach out to cup my face. “And what about you? What do you want?”
“I don’t know. I want to be with you, but I don’t know if it could ever work. What would I do? I’m not really qualified to get a job other than waiting tables or something like that. I’d do it for sure, but it’s not what I want to do for the rest of my life. I don’t really mind leaving my friends and college classes and everything, but my dad…I can’t see doing that to him. We were never really close, but I think he…he loves me.”
I think about his face, the broken sound of his voice, when he saw Code taking me at the bank, and my chest hurts—an agonizing clench—at the thought.
Code is silent for a minute. “We could somehow let him know that you’re okay. We could make sure he wasn’t worried.”
I think about that, wondering again if such a crazy idea can possibly work.
I want so much to be with him. Maybe it can somehow work.
Code goes on, as if he’s halfway talking to himself. “For years now, all I’ve wanted is some kind of peaceful place, where I don’t always have to be running, fighting, struggling to keep my head above water. A peaceful place, where I can really be free.”
The words touch me strangely, speak to something deep inside me too. “That’s what I want too. There’s this painting I like. By Monet. I don’t think it’s really what the painting is supposed to be, but to me it always looked like a pathway of light. To a bright place, safe from the storm.”
“Maybe we can find it in Mexico. Together.” He leans forward and kisses me. “You know I’m crazy about you. Right?”
I feel a giddy shiver at the word. “Me too. I’m crazy about you too.”
“Good. That’s all that matters. The bus doesn’t lea
ve until nine, so you have a few hours to decide. You can always cross the border with me and then, if you change your mind, just come back with the tour. No harm done.”
I can’t help but smile at the thought, filled with visions of not having to say goodbye to Code after all. “Maybe I’ll do that.”
I see his face change and know that he’s thrilled by my response. I’ve never believed a man can care that much about any of my decisions.
“I guess we better get up,” I add, glancing back at the clock. “I’m kind of hungry.”
“You stay in bed.” He hauls himself out the bed, stretching and giving me an excellent view of his mostly naked body. “I’ll go get us something for breakfast.”
I smile at him, rather fatuously. “You’re pretty nice to have around.”
“Then you should keep me around for as long as possible.”
We’re both grinning at each other like dopes as he pulls on his pants and t-shirt and then walks to the door of the room.
“Keeping you sounds like a good idea,” I say, just before he leaves.
He gives me one more smile, over his shoulder, and then shuts the door behind him.
I let out a long sigh and pull the covers up to get comfortable again. This is good. Delaying the decision another day or two is good. I can go across the border and then decide what I want to do.
No use to tear myself in two right now.
I relax for a few minutes and am just starting to drift into a doze when a loud bang startles me so much I sit up straight in the bed.
Then I realize the sound has come from someone opening the door so vigorously that it banged against the wall.
I think at first it’s Code, but it’s not.
As I blink at the man in the doorway, I remember when I’ve seen his nasty face and oversized body before.
The guy from Code’s crew who found us in that hotel a few days ago, who tried to kill both of us.
Deke.
And he’s in the hotel room with me.
“Where is he?” Deke growls, scanning the room with cold eyes.
“He’s not here,” I manage to force out, a cold chill running through me so strongly that I literally can’t move.