Cry Wolf

by Romy Lockhart

  I play around with my phone behind the bar. Can’t really get a reception here, but I don’t want to make eye contact with the arseholes I’m stuck serving tonight so whatever. A few minutes later, the three other regulars pour in. I hear Mrs Wallace mutter my name and a few other choice words along with it.

  I’m used to ignoring trash talking, but a year of this might be enough to break me. How the hell am I going to do this? The answer is I’m probably not going to. I sigh and try not to think about how spectacularly I’m going to fail. It isn’t helping. I need to find something else to focus on.

  The door opens again and I smile as Fergus enters. He sits down at the side of the bar and I immediately go over.

  “Hey, how’s it going?” I ask.

  “Good,” he says, smiling. “How’s it going for you?”

  Sucktacularly, I feel like saying, but don’t. The walls have ears tonight after all.

  “Great,” I say.

  He raises an eyebrow, so I nod toward the couple at the far end of the room. He glances their way and mouths a silent O. I get him his beer and wave away the money he tries to give me. I’m just glad someone’s around that I can stand to talk to. An actual friend.

  “So, how’s the prep for college going? Do you have your accommodation and stuff arranged?”

  He nods. “Kind of. There’s still some time left.”

  Damn. My only real friend in this town is going to be out of here in a few months. This is going to be a long ass year.

  He drinks while I mess around behind the bar, trying to find things to do.

  “You really should get a TV in the bar,” Fergus tells me.

  He’s probably right. It would shake things up and make them less boring. Probably need to think about the implications of it, but whatever. A change is as good as a rest and all that shite.

  “Good idea,” I say, causing Mr Peterson’s eyes to bulge.

  “I just suggested that the other night...” he complains.

  “Yeah, well. Fergus is the one who made it sound like a good idea.”

  He tuts and shakes his head. Honestly. These old guys will look for anything to complain about.

  Fergus helps me close up. He’s clearly more comfortable around me than he was before, because he doesn’t hesitate this time to tell me what’s on his mind.

  “Maggie, you’re not really married are you?”

  Ugh. I consider acting hurt and keeping the lie going. I kind of want to have one person around here that I can be honest with, but I know if I tell the truth it’ll make him doubt other things about me. Guilt burns through me as I widen my eyes. “Fergus! I can’t believe you think I’d lie about that.”

  And there I go, digging a deeper grave for myself. I don’t know when this is going to end, but right now it feels like the answer might be never. Shit. I’m so royally screwed.

  “Sorry,” he says, flushing a little. “It was just kind of a hunch I had. Forget I said it.”

  I’m such an arsehole. I should just admit it, I really should.

  “It’s fine,” I tell him. “I’m used to people doubting me.”

  “I’m really sorry. Maggie, I never really had mates at school and you’re like the closest thing I’ve had to a friend since Maria dumped me. I don’t want to waste that.”

  “It’s honestly fine, Fergus. Come on now, we’d better get you home to your gran before she freaks out over how late you are.”

  I usher him out and close up the bar. He waves as he heads off down the road. I turn and almost walk right into Lukas. He’s been waiting for me to finish work? I raise an eyebrow at him.

  “How long have you been standing about out here like a creepy stalker then?”

  He shrugs. “Half an hour maybe. Who’s the bloke you let stay when the others left?”

  “Is that jealousy I hear in your voice?”

  “It might be,” he says lightly, telling me it isn’t, but that he’s willing to play along if I’m into it.

  Oh, Blondie. You’re so dangerous. I really shouldn’t be considering letting you walk me home.

  “So what are you doing out here anyway?”

  “We didn’t get a chance to finish our date properly.”

  My heart starts to race as he strokes the side of my face, his intense gaze burning mine.

  “Okay,” I tell him. “Walk me home.”

  Should have worn my sexy underwear. Too late now.

  He takes my hand in his as we start to walk. The way he grabs it and holds it is entirely possessive. Butterflies spark to life in my stomach as he walks me up the path to the house. It’s coming.

  The goodnight kiss. The opportunity to invite him in for more.

  He waits until we’re at the door, and then he reaches out to stroke the side of my face again, this time holding it as he gazes into my eyes, his other hand on my hip. I back up against the door and he lowers his face to mine. I feel the warm whisper of his breath on my lips before he kisses me. The rush of nervous tension inside me is released like a bonfire of lust the second he pulls me in close.

  We kiss like love-starved teenagers with something to prove. I feel every probe of his tongue, every brush of his lips as if every nerve in my body is hypersensitive to his touch. I moan into his mouth as his hand reaches around to grip my arse through my jeans. I’m thrust against him tighter and I feel the hard, pulsing shaft of his cock through our clothes.

  He wants me, and I want him, and any shred of willpower I might have had was ripped to bits the moment I found him waiting outside the bar to finish what we started earlier.

  He breaks the kiss, his gaze staying on my lips. They feel so wet and swollen and I want more.

  No. I need more.

  “Come inside,” I whisper, pulling at his belt.

  He hesitates. “You’re sure?”

  “I’m sure,” I promise, pulling him in for another kiss.

  This feels like everything I’ve been waiting for. All the passion and desire I’ve missed out on my whole life. So what if this guy thinks I’m his destiny? Maybe that’s the missing ingredient, the spark I’ve never felt before. I’m sure it helps that he’s built like a God.

  We barely get inside the door before he’s pulling at my clothes like he’s trying to rip them from my body. I guide his hands to the buttons of my shirt and he moves his fingers quickly. He refuses to remove his mouth from mine and I seriously doubt we’re going to make it to the bedroom.

  I let my fingers roam under his shirt, enjoying the hard, sculpted feel of his body, until he pushes my shirt off my shoulders and I have to stop touching him to let it drop to the ground.

  His hands go back to my arse. He pulls me in close.

  I break the kiss, wondering idly if this is a good idea. One glance at the desire in his eyes and I don’t care. It’s going to feel good.

  “You’ll be mine once I’ve claimed you tonight,” he tells me, his voice husky and raw.

  “I’m already yours,” I tell him, as he takes my hand and kisses my fingers.

  “When it happens, these rings will loosen.”

  “Thank feck for that,” I tell him. They’re pretty and all, but it’s been driving me daft that I can’t get the damned things off.

  “You’re sure about this,” he murmurs, not really asking but sounding a little uncertain.

  I reach around and unhook my bra, let it fall between us. “I want you in my bed.”

  He smiles, that creepy-arse psychopath smile. This is the moment. Run if you really want to, Maggie. Once you get him naked, you’ll never get rid of him.

  I take his hand and lead him up to the bedroom. He pulls me to him from behind when we get inside, and I hear the door close with a bang.

  “You’re all mine, now,” he whispers as he kisses my throat.

  “All yours,” I whisper, placing my hand over his and leading it inside my jeans, inside my underwear.

  His touch is gentle, and probing. He takes his time and I help him find the right rhythm. I
arch my back against him and he uses his other hand to stroke my breasts while he rubs my clit in just the right way. The smell of him around me while he focuses on making me come is like some strange kind of heaven. It’s been too long since I’ve been around men. Too long since I’ve been touched so intimately. My thighs shake a little as I start to come, gasping and tensing under his touch.

  I rub against him and he moans.

  “I can’t wait another moment,” he tells me, removing his hand and working my jeans open.

  I push out of the last of my clothes and turn to him, falling to my knees and working his own jeans open with some effort. He’s straining them in a way that looks painful. I find out why when I have his cock released into my hand. It’s a monster of a thing. He would put a pornstar to shame.

  He puts his hand on my wrist as I start to pump the length. “I won’t last if you keep touching me like that.”

  What is he, a virgin? I raise my eyebrow at him before I slick my tongue across the exposed head of his cock. He sighs shakily, closing his eyes. I take my time, tasting him and touching him. Enjoying every sigh and groan he makes as I touch him. I’m no expert at deep-throating, but I make the effort to take as much of him in my mouth as I can. When he grabs at my hair, keeping me in place, I throb eagerly between my legs. This guy is seriously dangerous. I want him too badly.

  I groan around his shaft as he rocks me on it, forcing himself deeper. I can’t take it for much longer without coming up for air, but I don’t need to. He spills down the back of my throat and I swallow quickly as he sighs. He lets go and I back up before getting to my feet.

  “You weren’t kidding about not lasting,” I tell him.

  The look in his eyes now is feral, primal. My heart starts to pound harder in my chest.

  “Get on the bed, Maggie,” he demands, moving toward me.

  I back away until I’m on the edge of the bed. He picks me up and moves me into the centre of the sheets, pinning me down quickly. His hands push my arms above my head and one of them pins them in place.

  “You’re mine,” he tells me, kissing me harder and more urgently than before. “Say it.”

  “I’m yours,” I tell him, wondering why it sounds so much like a promise.

  I feel his cock hardening again, throbbing against me.

  “Your body belongs to me,” he says, as he rocks against me, rubbing his throbbing shaft against my clit, against the slick lips of my pussy.

  “It does,” I tell him, knowing I’d say yes to anything he asked right now.

  He gazes at me intently before he buries his cock in me. We lie there still for a long moment, and I moan at the incredible way he fills me before he begins to thrust. It’s as if his already swollen cock got bigger the second he entered me. He’s pretty damn huge so I’m not that surprised, but still. I don’t think I’ve ever felt as if a guy’s cock was hitting my g-spot with every thrust.

  “How does it feel?” he asks, his voice gentler now.

  “Incredible,” I tell him, as my legs begin to shake. I wrap them around him to still them.

  I’m going to come again, I can feel it building. He pauses thrusting to lean down and slick his tongue over one of my nipples. I gasp at the sensation as he then draws it into his mouth to suck on.

  He rocks slowly as he moves between flicking his tongue over my nipple and sucking on it lightly.

  It’s enough to send me over the edge. I feel him smile as I cry out under him. He moves back and kisses my mouth hungrily, pumping his hips harder. I’m sensitive now and every thrust seems to reverberate through me. He pushes harder and faster until he comes, muffled groans captured by my mouth.

  His kiss slows but he doesn’t remove his lips from mine until he removes his cock from inside me. The warm afterglow of what we’ve done makes me sleepy as he brings my arms back down and examines one hand. He tugs at the rings but they stay right where they are.

  “That shouldn’t be possible,” he murmurs, as he lets go and wraps an arm around me.

  “I’m sure they’ll fall off in the morning,” I reassure him, yawning as I relax into his warm embrace.

  “Of course,” he says, though I can still hear the concern in his voice.

  I let my eyes close as we lay there holding each other. It’s a perfect moment in time, both of us thoroughly sated and ready to sleep.

  I can ignore the fact that I’m wearing another man’s rings if he can. Trouble is I’m not sure he can.

  I never usually want to get up in the mornings, but it’s a different story when there’s a strange man in my bed. The longer I sleep, the worse my morning breath is and the more tired I look. So I wake up at the crack of dawn, creep out from under his arm and sneak into the bathroom to empty my bladder and make myself feel more human before I see him again.

  The moment I see my hair in the mirror I curse. I’m going to have to shower. It’s an absolute mess and it looks greasy as hell. I don’t know why sex seems to make this happen, and I forget that absolutely every single time.

  Sighing, I run the shower, my gaze drawn to the rings Theo pushed onto my fingers. He said bed head was sexy. He was really a damn good kisser. I remember getting wet from it.

  “No,” I tell my reflection as I attempt to brush my hair down to make it less of a pain to deal with after it’s washed. “You’re not doing this, Maggie. You’re into the guy that’s lying in your bed right now. Not the one you blew off. You can’t have your cake and eat it.”

  I feel my face flush as I remember an incident from high school. I slept with another boy at a party while I was supposedly ‘seeing’ Kev. Not that it was exclusive. He was arrogant then. The type that flirted with everyone and got defensive if I questioned anything. It was probably inevitable. Still.

  I didn’t sleep with the other guy because I wanted to get revenge or even the score, or whatever. I did it because I wanted to. The other guy was flirty and cute and I wanted to feel what it was like with him. I didn’t want to stop seeing Kev. I just kind of wanted to have them both.

  Turns out that’s the kind of thinking that makes a girl a ‘slut’. Found that one out the hard way. Just like everything else in my life, I suppose.

  “You’re not going through that shit again,” I tell myself. “Not even if it seems like they might be into it.”

  And it did kind of seem like they might be. Or at least like Theo might be. Blondie was a little more uptight. He’d probably react like Kev did. Or worse, considering he thinks I’m his soul mate.

  Holy shit. What did I just do? I probably slept with a virgin. A weird virgin who might want to kill me and keep my body around to talk to if he thinks I’m having impure thoughts about his rival for my affections. I shudder at the thought. Lukas seems sweet, but he has a hard edge. I might like to catch hints of that hard edge, but I don’t want to feel the full force of it.

  I step under the stream of the shower, not able to let thoughts of Theo go. He’d be different to Blondie. Less buttoned down, more playful.

  I sigh as I start to wash myself. I’m getting turned on just thinking about it. I can’t resist when I slip the soap between my legs.

  All it takes is a few seconds of gentle rubbing to make me come. It’s a hollow satisfaction that I feel as I give myself a few seconds to recover before I finish washing and turn off the water.

  Not like last night. Every second in bed with the virtual stranger felt like heaven.

  I dry off as much as possible and try to decide what next. My clothes are in the bedroom, as is my hairdryer. If I go back in there I need to grab whatever I need and leave as quickly and quietly as possible and go get dressed in another room. Or, I need to climb back into bed and wake him up in as nice a way as possible for another round.

  The second option sounds nice, but my hair’s wet and the thought of lying down without drying it makes me cringe. I have to at least dry my hair properly. That means leaving the room.

  I creep back in and grab my hairdryer, unplugging it sw
iftly. I look at the bed and I don’t think he’s even moved. Seems he’s not an early riser like his friend. Or enemy. Or whatever Theo is to him. I wonder more about that as I set up in the other room, plugging in near the bed so I can sit on the edge while I dry my hair. I’m probably going to regret not using a brush to do this, but we’ll see, I guess.

  I blast my hair in short bursts at a time. I like my long hair most of the time but I’ll be honest, this is the one time I can’t stand it. Blow-drying it takes forever, and it never feels completely dry afterwards. No matter how long I spend on it.

  I finish up eventually and smooth my hair down with my hands. It looks decent enough now, thankfully. Which is almost reason enough to say no to a second bout of bedroom shenanigans.

  I move back through to the bedroom and creep over to the bed. Lukas turns as I drop my towel, pulling back the covers.

  “Someone’s happy to see me this morning,” I tell him as I get back into bed.

  He pulls me in close, and I moan at the warmth of his embrace. If there’s one thing I love about men, it’s how damn warm they always are. Well, maybe that’s the second thing I love about them. The first is currently hard and throbbing against me as he kisses my neck.

  He moves on top of me, and I barely even think about it when I feel the head of his cock pushing against my wet and ready slit. He slides inside and I feel him throbbing again inside me, swelling in that incredible way he did last night.

  “You feel so good,” I murmur as he continues to kiss my neck.

  Why the hell does he feel so good? Damn it, I don’t care.

  “You don’t know how long I’ve waited for this moment,” he tells me, as he starts to rock his hips in a gentle motion, fucking me slowly. It feels like such a tease. I can tell I’m getting wetter with every stroke of his cock, the first flushes of a slow-building climax beginning to make themselves obvious.

  “What moment is that exactly?” I ask, running my hands over his smooth, hard back.