Not Your Hero

by Anna Brooks

  “No. I can’t.”

  Tears well in my eyes at the rejection. “Oh. Okay. I get it.” I’m not good enough. Never am, I don’t know why I’m not surprised.

  “Fuck.” He grabs my face and forces me to look at him, regret flashes in his eyes. “You don’t want me,” he says very slowly.

  “It’s fine. I get it.” Already humiliated, I rip out of his grasp and turn. I need to get inside.

  The front of his body presses against my back, and I find myself sandwiched between the door and him.

  “No. You don’t get it. And that’s why I can’t.” Grinding his hips into me, a growl vibrates in his throat before his mouth is at my ear, menacing. “This is what I do. You want more than that. And I’m not capable of more than a fuck, Courtney.” God. His voice is so damn smooth; it gives me goosebumps.

  Turning so I face him, I jab his chest with my finger, alcohol courage flowing through my veins. “How dare you?” He takes a step back, but I follow. “You don’t know me. You don’t know what I want. Maybe that’s all I want. You’ve got enough women coming in and out of your place, what difference does it make if your pussy for the night lives next door?” I’m lying. I don’t want just a quick fuck. I want to be worshiped, held, made love to. I want someone to laugh with and to share a meal with. A partner.

  He laughs—the cocky asshole laughs. “Hate to break it to you, babe, but I just got back from pussy. Loose pussy, but I’m not too picky. Plus,” he shrugs, “I don’t shit where I live, lady. Turn your fine ass around and go inside. You. Don’t. Want. Me.”

  He walks down the steps without another word and peels away in his truck. Still shocked by his admission, I watch wide-eyed as his taillights fade.

  Determination pushes me to limp in the house and change. Fuck him. I’m sick of letting a man determine my happiness. Matt wasn’t even the first guy to do it. Before that, I had two men who tried to control my life. You’d think I’d learn.

  I’m going to do what every other red-blooded single woman does. I’ll go to the bar and bring home a drunk guy then we’ll have meaningless sex.

  Digging through my closet, I pull out a short denim skirt and tight black tank top. My work shoes are the only heels I own, so I slip on the four-inch stilettos and apply red lipstick and midnight black mascara.

  Not even ten minutes later, the cab I called drops me off in an almost empty parking lot, and I doubt my spur of the moment decision. It’s after one in the morning. What in the hell am I thinking? That Mr. Right is gonna waltz out of the corner bar and sweep me off my feet? Idiot.

  Tears prick my eyes again, dammit. But this time, I don’t hold them back. Instead, crouching on the ground against a light pole, I let them fall.

  Is it so wrong to feel wanted? I’m a mother first. But I’m still a woman. All I’m asking is to share my life with someone who will love me and not run off or assume they know what I want.

  Footsteps startle me, and my heart thunders. I’m alone, in a parking lot in the middle of the night, dressed like a hooker. The steps get louder, and before I scream, Sam’s soothing words make me sob harder. “Baby, don’t cry.”

  He leans down and scoops me up in his arms. I hold on willingly, knowing in my bones that he’s a good man. He would never hurt me, physically. Emotionally, that’s still up for debate. Yet, I can’t help the want swirling through my veins.

  Setting me in the front seat of his truck, I manage to calm myself enough to ask what he’s doing.

  “Taking you home.”

  “Sam, I-”

  “Stop. Not now. Let me get you home.”

  Silently agreeing, I keep my eyes on his profile. His face remains impassive, and I wish he would talk. I’ve seen the glimpses of emotion hidden behind the mask. He feels something, even though he obviously doesn’t want to talk about it.

  When the truck pulls to a stop in the driveway, I hop down and walk the best I can to the house. As I’m unlocking my door, he doesn’t stop me. But before I shut it, his hand grips the wood. Talking through the crack, I ask, “What, Sam? You made it clear you don’t want me. I don’t know what I was thinking going to the bar. It was a bad idea, and I’m grateful you had been there before I did something stupid. Let’s just pretend this didn’t happen and-”

  The door is wedged open, and the intensity in his face causes me to whimper.

  “You think I don’t want you? Huh? You think my cock hasn’t been hard all fucking day thinking about you in that yellow top and panties from this morning?” He shuts the door and leans his head on it. “You think since I saw you at Club X I can’t get the image of your big, beautiful tits outta my mind?”

  At my gasp, he lowers his head. “Yeah. I saw you. You pressed your chest into my back and told me I could take a shot-”

  “That was you?” There was something oddly familiar about that man last night.

  “Yeah. And like earlier tonight, I left.”

  “Why?”

  “I already told you.” Throwing his arms up, he lets out a growl of frustration.

  “Right. You don’t want me.” Laughing, I take off my heels. “But you follow me to the bar, and comfort me when you see me crying.”

  “I did not follow you to the bar. I was already there when the cab dropped you off.”

  Shrugging him off, I flail my hands in the air. “Whatever. You put on this act like you’re some hardass who has no feelings. But I see you, Sam. I see your eyes soften when they look at Ben. If you really were so fucking heartless, you would have fucked me an hour ago.”

  Confusion twists his face. “I never said I was heartless. But I am an asshole. I’m a selfish prick. I can’t offer you more than that.”

  “I never said I wanted more,” I argue. “When you ran your finger down my face . . . that was the first time since I found out I was pregnant that a man has touched me.” My throat is dry and I clear it before continuing. “But you’re right. I want more. I want a man, a real man, to be by my side. And obviously that isn’t you.”

  “I told you,” he whispers, somehow now standing in front of me.

  Nodding, I agree. I would have regretted it in the morning. I’m not that girl. I don’t sleep around. I never did. I’ve only been with three guys my entire life. All of them long term relationships.

  “My loneliness got the best of me tonight. I’m sorry you got caught up in it.” A lone tear streaks down my face and his thumb reaches out to catch it.

  “I don’t like to see you cry.”

  “I’m not a fan of it myself.” An awkward silence fills the air, and I shuffle on my bare feet. “Thanks for bringing me home. I would have never gone into that bar, though.”

  He tucks a loose strand of hair behind my ear and cups my jaw. “I know.” His lips press against my forehead, and he tells me to lock up before disappearing.

  4

  Sam

  THREE WEEKS I’VE AVOIDED Courtney. I make sure to be gone when she gets home from her shift at the grocery store, which I know is seven to three. I could have had her a few weeks ago, fucked her against the front door. I kick myself in the ass every time I think about not taking her. And fucking Lisa hasn’t curbed the need I have, either. This crazy, raw need to feel myself sink into Courtney.

  Imagine my surprise at four-thirty when I put my beer and rotisserie chicken on the conveyer belt and Courtney’s here working. And I swear, if the motherfucker in front of the line doesn’t walk away from her, I’ll rip his fucking head off.

  By the suit and tie he’s wearing, I can only assume he’s some rich corporate type. His wine, French bread, and mozzarella cheese don’t help the equation much. He leans farther over the credit card machine than necessary to hand over his cash. Her head stays down while she finishes the transaction, clearly uncomfortable.

  “‘Scuse me? Do you mind if I go in front of you? I only have the two things,” I ask the elderly woman in front of me.

  “Sure. Go ahead.”

  I nod in thanks and walk aroun
d her. Courtney hands douchebag his change and his hand curls around hers. Now that I can hear him, I get it.

  “Come on, Misty. You can keep the change if you meet me around back. I’ll be fast, I promise.”

  The last time I felt this angry was when I saw the cut on her face. And before that, never. She’s doing something to me, and I’m not sure I like it.

  “Let go,” I tell him, anger lacing my words.

  She whips her head up, and when I see the tears brimming her scared eyes, I twist my head and crack my neck, pointedly staring at the bastard.

  Suit and tie releases her hand and gives me a smug look. “Whatever. She’s a whore, anyway,” he spews.

  Through squinted eyes, I track him until he leaves the store. When I finally turn to make sure she’s okay, I’m hit in the chest with a yearning that sits low in my gut.

  A tear rolls down her cheeks, and her pouty lips are open as she tries to control her breathing.

  I look uncomfortably at the woman behind me. She’s reading a magazine so didn’t even see what happened. Connecting with Courtney again, I tell her, “You’re fine. He was an ass.”

  Her head bobs up and down, and she wipes her face. “Yes. He was. Thank you.” Quickly brushing her hands on the ridiculous green apron she has to wear, she grabs my items to ring them up.

  “Seventeen forty-nine.”

  I slide my card through the reader without responding because really, what the fuck am I going to say? She rips off my receipt and puts it in the bag. I grab it and walk out, but not before glancing over my shoulder to find her watching me.

  * * *

  Headlights blur my vision for a second when Courtney’s car pulls up in front of the house at almost midnight. I’d be lying to myself if I said I wasn’t waiting for her. Why? Hell, if I know. I’ve never felt possessive of a woman before. And a woman with a kid? I avoid them like the plague. Just another complication I don’t need, even if her kid’s probably the coolest five-year-old I’ve ever met.

  Her car door shuts, and she opens the back and pulls Ben from the seat. Using her foot to slam the door, she walks up the brick path and stumbles a step when she sees me.

  “Hey,” she whispers.

  “Hey.” Standing, I grab the keys from her hand and unlock the door. When I walk into her house, I flip on a light by the entryway.

  “Thanks. I’ll be right back.” Watching her shapely ass disappear up the stairs makes me suck in a groan. Her body is absolutely perfect.

  I’ve been here since they moved in, but every time was as a landlord. I actually take a minute to look around. She’s got it decorated with this neat beach theme. Where my grandparents’ dining room table used to be is now a playroom, and she repainted the kitchen a bright yellow. Scanning the pictures on the wall, I laugh at one where Courtney has icing all over her face.

  “That was last year.” Her soft voice filters through the living room and I turn to face her. “Ben’s birthday. Mona told him to do it.”

  “It’s cute.” Cute. I’m turning into a pussy.

  My hands nestle in my jeans pockets, and I rock on my shoes.

  “What’s up?” she asks. Her head tilts and her arms cross. Guarded.

  “Just wanted to make sure you were okay after-”

  “Yeah,” she interrupts, irritated. “I’m fine.”

  “Okay. I’ll just go then.” My hand grazes the knob when she halts me with her words.

  “I hate it. I hate that I have to work there. I hate not being able to tuck my kid into bed every night. I hate that I’m alone all the fucking time. And I hate that twice in one month you’ve seen me at my worst.” When I turn to address her, she raises her hand to stop me. “I take it back. Three times. At the club, when I threw myself at you, and then tonight. God!” She rips her hair out of the clip and plops on the couch. “You probably think I’m a complete basket case.”

  “No. I don’t really know you. And I wish to hell I didn’t want to.”

  She chews on her thumbnail. “You want to know me but don’t want to want to?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Oh.”

  Choosing my words carefully, I tell her, “I’m honestly not sure if it’s because I know you’d be a great lay, or because I can’t have you.”

  My bluntness does not deter her. “Why can’t you have me?”

  “Seriously?”

  “No. I want you to lie,” she smirks.

  My boots echo in the dimly lit living room, and I stand in front of her. I can’t help the thoughts that invade me right now; she’s at the perfect height for me to fuck her mouth.

  “I can’t have you because I can’t give you what you need.”

  She stands and inadvertently, her large tits run up my stomach. “What is it you think I need?”

  “More than a few hours.”

  A weak smile tugs at her lips. Her wrist is tiny in my hand when I grab it to kiss her palm before gently pushing her back on the sofa and walking to the door.

  “I don’t know why the hell I came in here.” What the fuck was I thinking? That I’d suddenly become honorable and fall at her feet? This is such bullshit. I don’t care about women. Hell, I don’t care about anyone but myself. But for some goddamned reason, what’s left of my conscience is outweighing my dick.

  “You’re right, Sam.” She kneels on the couch and twirls a piece of hair with her finger. “I want more. I do. But sometimes I think it’ll never happen, finding a good man. So I wonder why I continue to even try.”

  The thought of her with another guy enrages me. I should just fuck her and get it over with. Get her out of my system. Before she finds a good man. I clench my fists imagining her spread open, moaning for someone else, and wait for her to finish.

  “You should probably go,” she ends in a whisper.

  “Probably.” My feet won’t move, even though my mind knows I need to leave.

  Maybe she doesn’t realize, but she’s giving me all the signals. Soft voice, sticking her chest out, twirling her hair. I know if I don’t walk out right now, I’ll do something she’ll regret. I won’t regret it, but she will. Her shapely form starts walking toward me, every swing of her hips like shockwaves to my dick.

  “I need to lock the door after you.”

  Still in black pants and an ugly green polo shirt from work, she doesn’t realize how fucking sexy she is. Her hair falls on her shoulders, and I wonder if it’s as soft as it looks.

  “I need to leave.”

  She says nothing but nods. Her chest heaving with each breath.

  “Tell me to leave.”

  When she doesn’t answer, I reach out to touch her flowing waves and step closer, losing my battle. “It’s soft. Are there other parts of you just as soft, Courtney?”

  I have no control over my body as my hand glides down her shoulder, between her breasts, and down to her stomach. Staring at me with heated eyes, she nods, as my fingers play with the waistband of her pants.

  Slipping inside her shirt, my other hand joins in the fun. I lift up the cups of her bra and groan when her tits fall heavy into my eager hands. She sucks in a breath and grabs my shoulders.

  “Christ, these are nice.” Gently, I push her back a couple steps so her back is resting on the wall. “Lift up your shirt. I’ve gotta see.” I pinch her nipples and she groans, making my dick even harder. I press a knee between her thighs and push into her.

  When she exposes her chest to me, I waste no time. I suck, lick, and nibble every centimeter of the most perfect pair of tits I’ve ever seen.

  “God, Sam. I need more.” Her fingers roughly grab the side of my head and she slams her mouth to mine. And I love it. I love the feel her soft lips on mine. I don’t usually kiss when I fuck. It’s too intimate. But after she startled me on the porch and I realized what I’d been missing, I’ve been dying to taste her mouth again.

  “You sure you want this?” I pull away from her and reach down to unbutton and lower her pants and underwear to her knees.
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  “Yes,” she pants. Not even a second later, I begin fucking her with my fingers. “Oh, my God!”

  “Fuck, baby. You’re tight.” I add a third finger and swear I almost come in my pants. Slick, hot, and perfectly snug, the anticipation is killing me. “I can’t wait to get inside you.”

  She rips my shirt off and sheds her pants completely as I drop mine and grab a condom out of my wallet.

  I roll on the latex and enjoy watching her squirm. Her cheeks are flushed, and she has red marks all over her chest. Some of them will probably be there for a few days, and there’s a part of me that’s glad. If she’s gotta work at X, I want all those fuckers to see my mark on her.

  I grab her ass and lift her up, pressing her shoulders into the wall. Rubbing my throbbing tip through her folds, I wait until her juices lubricate me enough then push into her with one thrust of my hips. I still when she bites my shoulder and digs her nails into my back. She’s really tight. It feels fucking perfect, she feels fucking perfect.

  “Shit. You all right?”

  She nods, but that’s not the kind of response I want. “You’ve gotta look at me when I’ve got my dick in you. I need to know you’re here with me.” Something I’ve always avoided, but with her, I need it. It fucking turns me on to see her face.

  She lifts her head and presses her forehead to mine, making sure to look right into my eyes. And hell, my gut clenches. “It’s just been awhile, but I’m good now. Please, just fuck me.”

  Our heads stay connected as I pull out to the tip then slam back in balls deep. She gasps, and I do it again. Keeping the same rhythm, I ride the high as long as I can because this is by far the nicest pussy I’ll ever be inside.

  She’s close, getting even tighter around me, as sweat drips down my back. When I pull out this time, I don’t move. “Ride my cock. Let me see you work your pussy.” Her body trembles and she rotates her hips. Riding me like a fucking champion, her ass clenching every time I bottom out.

  With her lips barely open, flushed cheeks, and hooded eyes, she looks straight out of a fucking porno. “Damn, baby. You look so hot right now. Since my hands are full,” I give her ass a squeeze and she moans even louder, “you’re gonna have to play with your nipples for me.”