He shook his head, fingers wrapped around the glass of tomato juice that was his lunch. He’d watched his mother deal with the aftereffects often enough over the years to know food might be his enemy, but tomato juice would soothe things down. Two aspirins, two ibuprofens, one acetaminophen, and a glass of tomato juice. Breakfast of champions, he thought, then grimaced. Or lunch for losers.
“You know she’s using you, right?” Twisting his neck, he stared at Danny, waiting. “She’s nineteen, Benny. Five years older. Fuck man, you can’t get your license for another two years, and she’s off to college in a few months. She’s a user, man. Don’t let her suck you in.” Danny grinned, “Suck you off, yeah. Take all that hot shit you can get, but don’t let her jack you up.”
Benny waved a hand, “No worries, man. I’m good.”
“Keep tellin’ yourself that, stud. Coach see you yet?”
Benny gingerly shook his head again. “Hoping to put this behind me before he does.” The bell rang, and he winced as it jangled loudly, waking the pain again. “Vodka and beer on an empty stomach do not mix, my friend. Word to the wise from the unwise.”
“No doubt about which is which today.” Danny's joke fell flat, and he slapped Benny’s shoulder, pushing his chair back. “See you in the locker room after school?” The football players held a meeting every game day. The boys dissecting the opponents and laying out planned strategies so there were few miscues on the field. This was independent of the team strategy meeting with Coach because it gave them a chance to focus on the people behind the plays. Benny’s idea, which began back in junior high, now carried over to varsity with Coach’s support since he was in high school this year. He overheard Coach talking about him not long ago, preening when the words “natural leader” and “talented player” were tossed around.
“Yeah, see you there.” Straightening, he stretched his neck backwards, feeling muscles in his back throb. If Mom is this miserable all the time, I wonder why she’d keep going back to the thing that sets it off. There was feminine giggling off to one side, and he turned his head, catching the eye of one of Benita’s friends. She winked at him and grinned wide, then opened her mouth, waggling her tongue. Oh no, she didn’t. Jesus. Time to shut this shit down. Turning to face her straight on, he held her gaze and stared steadily, keeping his face impassive, waiting it out. After a moment, her eyes dipped down and to the side, and she avoided his gaze as she turned away. Fucking Benita and her mouth. Her mouth talkin’ about my mouth. Shit.
Hours later, Benny stood on the sidelines, straps of his helmet dangling from his fingers, huffing in huge mouthfuls of air, eyes to the defensive line taking the field. “Jones,” Coach called from behind him, and Benny barely controlled a wince, knowing what was coming. A firm hand landed on the pads covering his shoulder and gripped tightly. “You okay, son?” Typical Coach, worried more about the kids than the game. “You’re off, Ben. That last pass should have been gravy.” It should have, but the ball had bounced in and out of his fingers as if it were greased, his clumsy fumble forcing a fourth down turnover, the reason Benny was back on the sidelines.
“Yeah, Coach,” he offered, eyes still trained on Danny shifting left to right across the field, tracking his man on the opposing team, currently on the move. “I’m good.”
“You’re sure?” Like most adults in his life, Benny knew what Coach wanted and gave it to him, turning his direction with a cocky grin. He tossed his still-aching head to indicate the stands behind him. Stands that held GeeMa, but not his brother. Andy was always working one of his jobs, but he at least called for a blow-by-blow review of every game. Never his mother, she didn’t give a shit about anything except herself. Didn’t matter, he played the game because he loved it, not because anyone was cheering him on.
“I won’t let them down.” Uncertainty still warred in Coach’s eyes, so chin down, Benny imitated Andy’s gruff way of talking when he said, “And I ain’t gonna let you down, either, Coach.” Sincerity won the day because the man released him and turned to watch the play developing out on the field. Coach took a step away as he shouted at the defensemen, giving them insights available from his vantage point. Benny’s shoulders sagged, suffocating weight holding them down until he forced himself to straighten, ignoring the persistent nausea as he traced the splits in his lips for the hundredth time.
After the game, which they won by the narrowest of margins, Benny and Danny piled into one of the upperclassmen’s vehicles, hitching a ride to the after-game bonfire. Benita appeared as if by magic when he stepped out of the truck, moving in beside him and possessively sliding her arm around his waist, pressing an already opened beer into his hand. After last night, he wasn’t sure he wanted anything else to do with drinking, but now that she’d made a production out of it, there wasn’t much he could do except go along. He wasn’t sure about her, either. Danny’s words had been circling his head all day, but Benny knew every man and boy present looked at him with admiration so he put a good face on it, smiling down at her and firmly ordering, “Kiss me, baby.”
Obediently she rose to her toes to press her lips to his, then slid them across his cheek to respond softly, “Don’t demand, baby.” She planted a kiss to his cheek on her way back down, and her lips moved soundlessly, forming one word, “Ask.” He nodded at her reminder of a lesson learned the first time he’d sat at lunch with her. She turned in his arm to face her posse of girls. “Ben is taking me to the prom this year.”
It was the first he’d heard of those plans, and he nearly couldn’t control the shuddering physical reaction when he thought of having to ask Andy or GeeMa for the money to rent a tuxedo. Shit.
Benita’s shoulders lifted in a shrug to a question one of her giggling girls whispered into her ear, and Benita twisted to look up at Benny’s face. A disturbingly wicked grin in place, she responded to her friend without taking her eyes off Benny. “I could share if you’re nice, Shelby.”
***
“Fuck,” Benny slurred, leaning against the side of a truck. Benita had walked him out here what seemed like forever ago, propping him up and telling him she’d be right back. She’d held the cup for him to drain the dregs of the last mixed drink she’d brought him, and he was buzzed beyond belief. His dick was still hard from her fondling, and he dropped his head back, watching the stars wheel sickly overhead. Pretty. Way out of reach, but pretty. Andy won’t be happy. His thoughts circled again, and he remembered the headache and nausea with which he’d started the day. Pukin’ again tomorrow, he predicted. “Fuck.”
“Okay.” Footsteps crunched in the dried grass, and he felt her hands at his belt, tugging, shoving his pants out of the way. He tried to lift up, but the weight of his head defeated him, so he stayed in that position. Pretty stars. Listening. Feeling. Benita Owens, suckin’ my cock. She giggled, and he wondered if he’d said that last aloud, the sound of her laughter echoing, gaining an octave along the way, and then her hand was on his dick, tentatively pulling him out into the chilly air. Heat and pressure hit him, and he groaned, the still unfamiliar sensations of mouth and hands overwhelming.
She quickly coated him with saliva and then jacked him, her fingers sliding easily through the lubrication provided. Mouth on his balls, sucking and rolling, and he forced his legs wider, giving her better access. Her mouth on his dick at the same time, sucking deep, brought his head up abruptly. Senses still swimming from the sudden movement, he looked down to see two women on their knees in front of him. Benita’s mouth between his legs, gaze locked to Shelby’s face. Shelby’s mouth around the knob of his dick, eyes turned up to watch him.
Benita changed position, and both women latched onto his cock, one on either side, their mouths kissing around him and he watched as they moved off him, kissing each other in earnest. Benita’s hand rose, cupping Shelby’s breast through her shirt, and he watched, trying to catalog the smooth and gentle motion and movements, knowing this had to be what Benita preferred, not his fumbling grip and release. Another l
esson she might not even be aware of teaching him, so caught up in what she was doing. Watch and learn.
They came back to him, Benita’s fingers wrapping around his dick and pointing it to Shelby’s face. Benita moved behind her, so the women were pressed together, and Benita’s other hand moved between Shelby’s legs, lifting the short cheerleader skirt, disappearing underneath as Shelby’s lips closed around him. Benita, mouth to Shelby’s ear, tongue flicking out, whispered, “Told you he was hung.” Eyes up to Benny, she hissed, “You do not come.” She kissed Shelby’s neck in a soft, unhurried way, nibbling her way up, and Benny studied how she did that, too. “Told you I’d share.”
The rest of the evening flew past in a blur of faces and mouths as Benita brought two more friends to him before she was done sharing. Between the booze she kept pouring, and the edge they had him riding, he was incoherent by the time she stood in front of him, finally alone. Rolling a condom on his aching dick, she smiled up at him. “You did really well, honey. Let’s break the seal.” Standing, she turned away and shimmied her panties down before bending over. “Pop that cherry.” Reaching between her legs, she gripped him and pulled, guiding him towards her entrance. “Fuck me, Benny.”
Pushing backwards on him, she moaned loudly when her round ass met his thighs and it was all Benny could do to bite back a groan of his own. So much sensation slamming him from all sides. The heat of her wrapped entirely around his dick, so much better than his hand, better than her mouth could ever hope to be. The chill of the truck under his hands spread to either side of his torso, pressed flat, fingers wide. Nerves fired all along his spine, and he bowed his hips forward, ass clenching as he drove forwards and into her.
“Oh, baby,” she called, twisting her head to look at him. Muscles tightening involuntarily, he thrust forwards again. And again. He was overcome with the sensation of his flesh crawling, balls tightening and drawing up so fast; he couldn’t stop any part of it. The orgasm train had already left the station, and he was barely catching up. His hands left the truck and flashed forwards, grabbing her hips and pulling her onto him, hard, holding there as rockets went off behind his eyelids. Stupefied, he could hear himself grunting as he lunged forwards, again and again, buried deep, then deeper, then deeper yet.
If it hadn’t been for her ass pressed up against him, he would have fallen. As it was, he staggered sideways, and she shifted with him, looking up with a grin. “Stay hard,” she commanded, and he blinked, trying to make sense of the words. Then she was moving again, back and forth under his hands, pushing back onto him and then pulling off, her hands on his thighs, fingers gripping the seam of his jeans tightly, using his legs for leverage as she pounded onto him. He could see the root of his cock in the flashes of moonlight, that cold illumination at odds with the heat surrounding him. One of her hands disappeared from his leg, and he briefly felt her fingers touch him where they were joined, then her head dropped down, and she moaned. A minute later, she stilled, and he felt flutters all along the length of his dick, growing and then gradually lessening in intensity.
Another minute later, she straightened up and twisted her head to kiss him. It was bizarre for her to do that with him still inside her. “Not bad for your first time,” murmured against his mouth, the words hit him hard. He’d slept with Benita. He was sober enough to think, No, not slept. Fucked. No sentiment involved, just her wanting to get off. Exactly like last night. Not giving one shit about how it made him feel, not caring about anything other than knowing what she wanted and taking it. She glanced down and then, bringing her eyes back up, ordered, “Hold the rubber in place while I pull off.”
Reaching between them, he did as directed, hissing when the cold hit his exposed flesh and he felt his dick shriveling up as he stripped off the knob wrapper. At her instruction, he tied a knot at the end before tossing it into the back of whoever’s truck he still leaned against. Focused on straightening his clothes, he staggered, not ready when she stepped into him, giving him her weight as she leaned against his chest, her arms going around him in a tight hug. “So good, Benny.” She squeezed and then released him. “Come on, time to get my prince home before he turns into a toad.”
A half an hour later, stumbling into his grandparents’ house, Benny called a garbled greeting to GeeMa, who sat reading in the living room, her chair an island of light from a nearby lamp that he hoped blinded her to his condition. “Good party?” she asked without looking up, and for once, Benny was glad for the distance between them as he responded with a grunt. It wasn’t that his grandparents didn’t love him because he knew they did. He suspected it was more that she saw a lot of his mom in him, something he couldn’t deny tonight, bumping into the hallway walls more than once as he made his way to bed.
Andy had won the gene lottery. He was everything good that had been their father. Benny knew that from hearing grown-ups talk over the years. Strong. Loyal to a fault. A shirt off his back kinda guy. A lot there to be proud of, a lot to look on with love. Benny closed his eyes, feeling the tilt and whoosh in his belly as the bed moved. Swallowing hard, trying to unstick his throat, he heard GeeMa’s slippers as she walked up the hallway. Benita likes me for who I am. Shifting, he rolled to his side, squinting to focus on the clock sitting on the nightstand. It was three in the morning, which meant Andy would be halfway through his shift at the grain mill. I’ll talk to him tomorrow. Get his advice about Benita, he decided, scrubbing his cheek on the pillow. Tomorrow.
Two
Benny stood by the curb, watching as Andy rode away from GeeMa’s house and up the road. It had been barely a week since the fiasco at the bonfire. Today he'd come home from shopping with Benita, to find Andy waiting for him. One thing about Benita, she never was afraid to whip out Daddy’s credit card, so Benny now owned a tuxedo, which meant he didn’t have to ask Andy for money. Shirts and other items were in bags on the porch, the tailoring on the suit would be done next week and they’d head back to Cheyenne to pick it up before prom. Andy had nearly gotten into an argument with him about the clothes, but Benny had been able to pass it off as not a big deal. He’d played up his relationship with Benita when she let him out at the curb, knowing Andy was sitting on the porch, watching.
Benny had only been home moments before Andy gave him the news. The used motorcycle strapped into the back of Andy's beat-up old pickup truck was going to be his brother’s ticket out of town. Andy had finally grown tired of all the shit in Enoch and was doing something about it, which meant Benny would lose him. Benny knew though, that if given the same opportunity to escape the town they both hated with a passion, he'd be gone in an instant. Torn in half with the news, Benny was both pleased for his brother and destroyed, because he would effectively be without a safety net. Sure, their mother still lived in town—fat lotta help she’d be with anything—and he had GeeMa and GeePa, but without Andy…he would be alone.
The wind blew steadily, an ever-present entity on the plains, and the way it whistled around the corners of the house reminded him of their father’s funeral. Winds so strong that day Andy’s hat had nearly been unseated; gusts had rocked the truck side-to-side as their old ranch foreman drove them from the cemetery. Benny had played possum, pretending to fall asleep in the truck and letting Andy carry him inside. Then, as soon as Andy left the room, Benny had crept silently to the doorway to listen as the grown-ups—and he counted Andy in that category—discussed him and his mom.
He’d been five years old. That was the first time he remembered knowing in his gut their mom wasn’t going to be able to hack it. Hearing they’d be moving from the ranch into town, leaving behind their heritage to stay in a shoddy rental, and even at that age, Benny knew it was her fault. She couldn’t deal, not without Daddy, and Daddy was dead, so wouldn’t be coming back to save any of them. He remembered the chill working up his back at the thought. Remembered profound sadness a few years later at his prophecy come true when she fell far into the gutter. The words kids flung at him in grade school became tru
th because she earned rent and booze money on her back.
The minutes ticked by as Benny stood there staring up the road. Andy’d been gone so long, Benny began to wonder if he’d heard Andy wrong, if maybe the playful banter that passed between them before Andy dropped his bomb about leaving had been their last conversation. Then, off in the distance, he saw a small figure appear. Gradually it resolved into a widely-grinning Andy, seated proudly on the beautiful red-and-white bike. He came back like he said he would, so maybe, just maybe, Andy would do everything else he promised like come back, stay in touch, help out when he could.
Andy pulled up, parked behind the truck and without a word, Benny knew what his brother needed. So he gave it to him. He flooded the air around them with questions about the bike, how it felt to ride fast, what kind of jobs Andy’d be looking for. He would do anything to keep the reality of life at bay for both of them.
***
The morning of prom, Benny stood on the porch with their grandparents and watched Andy ride away again, this time for good. Earlier, while packing the bags hanging on either side of the back wheel, in a quiet voice Andy told him, “Stopping by Mom’s rental on my way out of town. One last time.” Benny stared at him, not sure what to do with this knowledge. GeeMa would be pissed if she knew Andy was headed over there. She didn’t hate her daughter-in-law. She couldn’t; hate wasn’t in GeeMa’s makeup. But she could dislike intensely, and did, trying in her own way to protect the boys from what had happened within their broken family. “Need you to do something for me, shrimp.”
“Anything.” The truth slipped from his mouth traveling to Andy’s ears. He’d do anything for his big brother.
“Check in on her some? Make sure she’s eating and shit? I’ll send you some money for groceries for her.” Andy’s forehead wrinkled in a huge frown. “Just make sure she’s okay?”
Born Into Trouble (Occupy Yourself Book 1) Page 2