Recoil

by Max Henry

  “Do I forget the things you tell me?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Then stop saying you’re a burden. You’re not, Love. You’re my girl, and whatever you need to keep you smiling is what I’ll do. You’re mine to worry about, so stop doing it yerself.”

  Tears crested her lower lashes, and ran in lines across the pink swell of her cheeks. Even whilst crying under the streetlight she could be beautiful.

  “You always know what to say.”

  “Because I speak from here.” He tapped his chest. “And not here.” Pete pointed to his head. “How about ya start doin’ the same, Cutie. Listen to your heart, your gut instinct. Forget the bullshit ya head’s tryin’ to tell ya.”

  Her fingers knotted in his shirt while they stood in silence. He knew she was thinking over what he’d said, and even if it had been below zero outside, he would have stood for hours to give her enough time. She needed to let it all sink in, and start believing it.

  “How do you think Trevor’s doing?” she asked, tipping her head back to look him in the eye.

  “I’m sure he’s okay.”

  “So he won’t miss us if we’re gone for a while?”

  “I wouldn’t have left if I thought he needed the help.” He stroked a strand of hair off her face, and smiled. Could she be thinking … ?

  “Good, because you owe me a public escapade, boy.”

  She is. Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. Somebody help the girl, because this wouldn’t be gentle.

  “I’ve been waitin’ for you to say you’re ready.”

  “I was ready at the airport.”

  “No ya weren’t. You were obliging. There’s a difference.” He fisted a handful of her hair, and pulled her head back to taste the flesh at her neck. Of all the places he’d placed his lips on her, that little indent at the base of her throat always left the sweetest taste on his tongue.

  “I don’t think she could tell,” Steph said, rubbing against his leg.

  “Well, he could.” He grabbed her hand, and placed it over his ready erection. “This isn’t going to be slow, or gentle, Love. There’s plenty of time for that later, but right now, I need to feel ya over me.”

  “I think I like what I’m feeling.” Her hand closed over his junk, and squeezed.

  The pain sent white spots to the back of his vision, but it also had the desired effect of tuning his every sense to the connection between them. He sighed, and pushed his hips toward her hand.

  “Do you want to go up there?” She nodded toward a park at the far corner of the street.

  “No. Here will do.”

  “But there’s houses around, Pete.”

  “Is that not public enough for ya?” He teased.

  She frowned, but her eyes sparked with the thought. My dirty little girl.

  “I don’t want to get in trouble.”

  He trailed a hand over her ass, and squeezed a tight, round buttock. He’d be sure to be slamming that glorious sight into his cock later, but for now, he was limited on what he could do.

  “Love, tell me. Do ya stand around lookin’ out ya front window at night?”

  “Well, no, but—”

  “But nothin’. There are only two houses with front lights on within earshot. I think you’ll be fine.”

  He backed her up against the concrete light post, and grabbed hold under her butt to hoist her onto his hips. Steph wrapped her legs around his waist, and linked her hands behind his neck.

  “I love you, Baby.” She pressed her forehead to his, and watched as he undid his jeans.

  “I know ya do, and I love ya more.”

  She moaned at the sensation of his cock pressing against her opening. “Don’t fuck around, Pete. I can’t handle you teasing me tonight.”

  He nudged her gently, and closed his eyes as her muscles tensed for him. Sweet Jesus. “That makes two of us, Cutie.”

  Steph sucked in a short breath, and clawed at the back of his neck as he slid deep within her warmth. Sunk to the hilt, he paused, relishing the feeling of her pussy gripping at him, trying to suck him further.

  “Still hungry, I see.”

  “Always,” she sighed.

  Pete drew back, and pumped her with another stroke. She gasped, and raised her hands above her head to grip the pole. He eased her breasts above the neckline of her dress, licking his lips at the sight of her flesh pressed over the straining fabric.

  “So beautiful,” he murmured before craning his neck to suck a nipple into his mouth. The flesh peaked under his attention, and he reached over to squeeze the other as he continued to suck, and flick with his tongue.

  “Let me,” she whispered, taking her swollen nipple between her fingers. “You can’t fuck me properly bent like that.”

  He growled as she rolled the flesh between her fingers, eyes closed, and clearly not distracted by the thought of being discovered. Pete slammed a steady rhythm into her eager core, relishing the feel of her tightening with every stroke. Her muscles quivered, and her breaths drew harsher.

  “Tell me what you’ve missed most, Love,” he panted, never slowing his pace.

  She took a few strokes to catch a breath. “You, this,” she gasped, and moaned as her orgasm took her. “The way you make me feel like it’s only us, and only ever will be. I don’t know why I thought I could ever do without you.”

  Such sweet words to cement the fact she felt as strongly about their relationship as he did. “Neither do I,” he breathed as he stilled, and shuddered inside her. “I don’t know how you’d think I’d ever let you go.”

  Steph panted for breath, wedged onto him as he also fought to ease his racing heart. She placed her soft hands on either side of his face, and pulled his lips to hers. He savoured the taste: salty sweat, mixed with her unique sweet arousal. She tasted like sex, and he couldn’t get enough of either.

  “Us,” she whispered. “Just us.”

  He nodded, his forehead against hers. Of course it would only ever be the two of them. How could she think he could fall in love again when she’d taken his heart captive from the moment he first saw her?

  She’d be his forever, and he had a few ideas on how to make that official.

  The soft click of the front door brought Trevor’s head up from his position on the floor of the living room. He looked toward the entrance, and smiled at the goofy look on his friend’s faces.

  “Nice walk then?”

  Pete smiled, and gave Steph a pat on the arse as she scooted through to the master bedroom.

  “Aye, good.”

  “The package is bundled for postage. I need a hand to lift the bloody thing, though,” he said.

  “Maybe you shouldn’t be liftin’ anything?” Pete narrowed his eyes at him.

  "Well, I don't know what you're thinking, Son, but that girl through there isn’t in any shape to be moving that rank thing out of her house."

  Pete slumped into the armchair. "Aye, I know." He nudged Trevor with a boot. "If ya back is bad enough to warrant ya lyin' on the floor, maybe you should see a doctor?"

  He looked away from the guy. Pete was spot on, he should. But the fear of what the quack would say to him kept him from making an appointment. He didn't need x-rays, or a professional opinion to tell him he'd done something bad this time around.

  Over the years he'd hurt his back more than once, and truth held, the more you damaged your back, the less it healed.

  "I don't want to know what they'll say."

  "And lyin' around feelin' sorry for yerself is goin' to make it better?"

  "True." Bastard had him as usual.

  "Just ask Steph when she comes back out for a number, ya sook."

  He laughed, and winced at the stab of pain that ricocheted through his lower back.

  "A number for what? Are you okay?" Steph's hair fell about her face as she leant over to examine him.

  The woman truly was remarkable: in looks, and demeanour. He could only wish for a girl as devoted one day. But when his life co
nsisted of never knowing day-to-day whether he'd be having a quiet one at home, or spitting blood while he carried out an assignment, there wasn't much room for a lover.

  "I'm not sure." He smirked. "I may need mouth-to-mouth."

  She smiled, and slapped him on the shoulder. "I think Pete will argue that."

  "Counting on it." He eased up on his elbows, and paused to let the pain in his back subside before he sat all the way up. "Sweetheart, would you be so kind as to find a number for a G.P. I can see tomorrow?"

  "Of course," she answered, worry in her tone. "What happened?"

  "Took a fall, landed on something a bit rough."

  "Yeah, the fuckin' concrete gutterin'," Pete grumbled.

  "Shit. And you've left it this long? You might have cracked something." She reached behind him to tug his shirt up.

  He stilled as her delicate hand touched the centre of the ache.

  "Oh my God. Pete, look at this."

  "What?" What was she looking at?

  Trevor craned his neck to look behind himself as Pete stepped over to look. Small problem with having such thick neck muscles, he couldn't move far.

  "Fuck, mate." Pete grimaced. "You're black, and blue, brother."

  "That'll explain the pain," he chuckled.

  He was the only one in the room who laughed.

  Trevor tugged the shirt from Steph's grasp, and covered his back. "We need to sort this parcel out."

  Pete exchanged a warning look, and nodded once. "Fine. But that's the last thing ya do. It's rest after that."

  "Yes, Mum."

  "I'm serious, Trev. You ain't as young as you once were, and I don't give a fuck how many hours ya spend liftin' shit around, you've gotta take care of yerself."

  He raised an eyebrow at the guy, surprised at the turnaround in him. "Since when do you wax on poetic about self-preservation?"

  Pete looked at Steph, and tugged her into his side. "Since I have something worth living for."

  "Fuck me," he moaned. "Could you keep it in your pants for a minute?"

  Pete chuckled, and held out a hand to pull him up. "Let's get this thing out of here, huh?"

  "Gladly."

  ***

  The three of them stood around the packaged body, hands on hips, or crossed over their chest.

  "Why didn't ya cut it up?" Pete asked.

  He looked at the idiot, and frowned. "You honest to God need me to answer that?"

  Pete nodded.

  "I didn’t think Steph here would want to explain to her landlord why there's a smell she can't shift from the carpet."

  "It smells now, though?" Steph questioned.

  The poor girl. She still had so much to learn. "When a body begins to decompose, the bacteria inside breaks down the organs. What do you think is going to happen to all that tissue? It liquefies. I cut him open—" He thumbed at the lump on the floor. "—and a bucket-full of rancid shit oozes into your carpet here. I don't know about you, but I don’t want to try and get that out."

  She placed her hands on the side of her head, and sighed. "If I'd known how hard this was going to be, I wouldn't have done what I did."

  "Rubbish," Pete said. "I'd rather this, than what he would have done with ya."

  "Feet or head?" Trevor asked.

  "Head. I don't care if he's already dead, I want to choke the fucker."

  He chuckled at his friend, and bent down to take the feet. Pete leant over, and encased the corpses neck with his tattooed hands. A wave of pleasure came over his features as he pressed harder than necessary.

  "Don't bust the skin, huh? Can't be assed with the smell today."

  Trevor stretched, and pushed through his knees to lift the weight of the guy. He'd estimated as he wrapped the body that the sucker would have been easily over 150 pounds. Of course that doubled in the current state.

  Dead weight always pissed him off—all the reason why he preferred to take people out in their place of burial.

  The agony spiked as he brought the body past his knees. He bit down, and pushed through the last stages of the lift. Excruciating pain raced up the length of his spine before it disappeared completely. The numbness spread within seconds, but to his mind it took an eternity when he realised what had happened.

  “Shit,” Trevor grunted, and lost his grip on the feet of the package.

  The body hit the floor, and his knees gave out. He grimaced when his head connected with the wall, disturbed as to the reason why his legs wouldn’t co-operate.

  “That doesn’t look good, Trevor,” Pete said, rushing over to help him.

  Steph’s hands flew to her face. He smiled at her, trying to ease her worry whilst inside he screamed in blind panic. He turned back to Pete, and tried in vain to conceal his distress.

  “It doesn’t feel so good either.” Trevor pushed to sit, and failed in his attempts to move his legs from the skewed position they lay in. “In fact, I can’t feel a thing.”

  Steph stood in shock as Pete straightened Trevor’s legs.

  “Can ya feel anything?”

  The big guy shook his head, concern etched in his brow. “I think it’s more than we can fix, Son.”

  How the hell could she call an ambulance when there was a dead body in the room? “What are we going to do? We can’t move him if it’s his back.”

  “We’ve got no choice,” Trevor said.

  “We have to get him to the car,” Pete instructed.

  “But you could paralyse him.” Lessons learnt in first-aid were springing to mind. “We need to stabilise his spine.”

  “And how are we gonna do that?” Pete asked.

  “I don’t know,” she ceded, dropping her shoulders.

  “Sweetheart,” Trevor soothed. “There’s a dead body in the room. I don’t think you want to explain to the coppers how it got here, am I right?”

  “No.”

  “Then we have to make do. We’ve made our bed, let’s lie in it. The only way we’re going to get me help, is move me.”

  Pete bent down, and hitched his hands under Trevor’s arms. He grunted, and heaved, trying to get Trevor off the floor. Pete struggled to get the huge bulk of the man to move with any ease.

  Steph joined in the struggle, wrestling with his enormous shoulders to get him to rise more than a few inches.

  Trevor broke out laughing. “Come on, I weigh more than you two combined I reckon.”

  “Well how the fuck are we gonna get ya to the car.”

  Steph scoured her memory for anything she had that could assist. If only she owned a skateboard.

  Trevor pointed to the doorway. “Hold it steady.”

  Pete walked over, and held the door with his boot wedged at the base.

  “Steph, I need you ready to take some of my weight. Come stand beside me.”

  She nodded, and followed Trevor’s instruction as he shuffled himself over to where Pete stood. He placed his limp legs either side of the door, and stretched his shoulders. With a slight hop from his seated position, he latched both hands onto either side of the door handle. She watched as the muscles in his arms bulged while he dragged his body weight upright.

  Trevor swung a hand off the handle, and landed his arm around her shoulders. Her back, and knees complained at the strain, but she was determined to help however she could. After all, it’s your fault he was in here doing this.

  Pete took the other side, and together they managed to shuffle the big guy out to the car. His thick legs hung between them, useless as a newborn’s.

  “I’m so sorry, Trevor.”

  He pushed his black hair from his face, and smiled up at her from the passenger seat. “It’s not your fault, darling. I should have listened to our boy here when he told me to see the quack earlier.”

  “Are ya comin’?” Pete asked, holding his door open for her.

  “I think I might stay here, see what I can do with our little problem inside.”

  “Are ya sure, Love?”

  Not really, but it has to be done. �
��Positive.”

  “All right. I’ll phone ya as soon as we know what’s going on.”

  “Okay, thanks.” She took hold of Trevor’s hand, and gave it a squeeze. “We’ll take care of you, okay?”

  He reached up, and touched her cheek gently. “I know.”

  Steph closed his door, and rounded the car to the driver’s door. She leant down to the open window, and sighed. “I feel terrible, Pete.”

  “He’s right, Love. It’s not your fault, so don’t start that shite while I’m gone.” He reached out and ran his thumb across her lips. “Onwards, and upwards, Cutie. No lookin’ back at what ya can’t change.”

  She leant in, and placed a soft kiss on his delicious lips. “Love you.”

  “We’ll be back soon.” He turned the car over, and reached back up to cup the back of her neck. “Love you.”

  “I know.”

  Steph stepped back, and watched as Pete backed the rod out the driveway. Dawn tickled the horizon, and the lack of sleep crept in now that her mind wasn’t so occupied with other things. She stifled a yawn, and waved them off, aware the sinking in her gut wouldn’t shift, no matter how many times the two of them told her it wasn’t her fault.

  She headed indoors, and straight through to the spare room. The body lay shrouded in plastic like some sort of BDSM mummy. Her anger built as she stared the ‘package’ as Trevor had called it. Even in death Ivan had to go and fuck things up.

  In a moment of blind rage, she stepped forward and laid a swift kick into the side. Her stomach roiled at how soft the connection was, and thoughts of bloat, and liquefied organs assailed her.

  Thank God I didn’t burst it.

  She stepped back, her heart racing. A tear rolled over her cheekbone, soon followed by a mob of droplets. Each time she thought she’d reached breaking point, something else would crop up, and her down times would sink lower.

  When would she be able to look forward like Pete had said? When would all these problems go away? She wanted to believe that disposing of Ivan’s body would be the answer to the end, but her voice of reason knew better.

  Old ghosts would continue to haunt her as long as she lived, and breathed. It was how she dealt with them that mattered. Perhaps the answer wasn’t making her troubles go away, but rather knowing how to incorporate her troubles into everyday life, and find a balance.