A Civilian for Silo

by J. A. Hornbuckle

  “Find me?” she whispered and he saw her knees begin to release. Quickly moving to her side and snaking a firm arm around her back, Silo caught her before she slid to the floor.

  “Yeah, baby. Replacing your cards, giving our address which you know the different companies need in order to re-issue the cards, are sure to be something people of the bad variety are looking for,” he explained, his mouth against her ear as he bent down to her now boneless form. “Moore found you. The others will be able to just as well. Especially if you leave them a fucking trail.”

  He pulled back and eyed her, trying to determine if his words, his explanation, had been too much for her. It wouldn’t have been to the ‘old’ her, the girl that was resolute in extraditing her and her sister from the mess they’d found themselves in. As the frosted blue of her beautiful eyes met his, he saw understanding begin to dawn in them.

  “They’re still looking for me?”

  “Probably,” he confirmed quietly. “More than fucking likely.”

  “And me having financial independence,” she shook her head in hard jerks before correcting what she’d said. “And you paying for everything will, uhm, cover my tracks? Keep me hidden?”

  “I fucking hope so, Shelly.” But it was more of a vow than a promise, at least to his mind.

  She blinked up into his eyes. Deep blinks that gave no clue as to what she was thinking. Silo only hoped she never sat in on a Hellion poker game. The girl would fucking clean the floor with whomever she played!

  “Who paid the medical bills in Albuquerque?” she asked on a whisper, her face stricken, and Silo could feel his forehead crease at both the question and her expression.

  “I did.”

  “Who paid for the air ambulance to Missoula?”

  “Fuck, Shell. Now’s not the time or the place…”

  “Who, Si?” she demanded and he felt the muscles in her back tighten, straightening her posture.

  His voice, when he replied after a few moments of weighing the consequences, was only a thread of breath. “Me.”

  “Who’s paying for my clothes, my food, the house and the utilities?” She must’ve caught his mutinous look at having understood what she was trying to get to the bedrock of.

  “Don’t matter, Shell…”

  “Who is freaking paying for every damn thing, Si?”

  He didn’t say a motherfucking word because he knew she was aware he was footing the bills. Each and every one of them. And he’d continue to do so for as long as it took to figure out who was after her and why.

  She didn’t say anything either but her posture and firmed lips spoke volumes.

  “Don’t matter, Shell…” he repeated and considered the subject closed.

  But she obviously had a different take on it. “So he with the gold makes the rules, is that it?”

  Wait…what? The change in direction confused him and that befuddlement must have shown because she went on.

  “I’m healing, Si and will be able to help out with the cooking and laundry. But I refuse, absolutely refuse, to eat junk or sub-quality food.”

  “I ain’t asking you to eat junk, princess,” he started but she cut him off.

  “Never thought of you as a miser, big guy, but you’d rather buy crap products in order to save a dollar here or fifty cents there.” Her cheeks were rosy and her eyes were blazing as she fucking slipped right back into her girlie-pissed mode again.

  “You wearing the clothes I paid for? What about that fucking sexy as hell perfume you got on that drives me fucking insane every time I get a whiff? Who paid for that, huh?” He watched her take a step back which might have been from the frown he knew he was wearing or the bad-ass voice he was using. “I ain’t no fucking miser, sweet cheeks. I’ve been paying your bills and fucking doing it gladly. So I suggest you put a goddamn lid on it. The fancy assed high-priced shit ain’t that much different than the generic stuff and is good enough for me.”

  She snorted and lifted her chin. “And I’m supposed to eat trashy food just because you find it ‘good enough’?”

  He propped his fists on his hips and eyed her as if she’d lost her ever-loving mind. “It ain’t fucking trash, sugarplum. And if you want to be with me, letting me keep you fucking safe and secure then you better find a way to damn well deal with your new set of circumstances. Other than to bitch, moan and fucking complain about them.”

  Her eyes narrowed and he saw her lips part as she prepared her next salvo, but he cut her off before another goddamn sound left her mouth. “Shut it, Shell.”

  Without another word, but with a glare aimed directly at him, she turned and stepped away. Her anger was evident in not only the stomping of both feet but in the set of her shoulders.

  Not saying another word, they still communicated as they completed their shopping. She’d hold up an item and he would either shake his head to signify ‘no’ or nod his head for ‘yes’.

  If not speaking would keep her off his ass and from slinging her goddamn hoity-toity opinions around, he was willing to let her have her play. The only crack in her armor came when she spied a pint of Gelato in the freezer aisle. Taking it out of the case, she held it up and without a thought, Silo shook his head no. Instead of huffing and puffing like she had all the other times he’d denied her particular choice, that time he saw her bottom lip quiver before she turned around to put the small carton back. As he pushed the cart past it, his eyes caught on the price.

  $4.99 for a pint of ice cream?

  That was fucking nuts!

  But nuts or no, as soon as Shelly had rounded the end of the aisle, Silo quickly snagged the icy tub and hid it in the bottom of the cart.

  Sometimes it was the small things that could trip a person up. And while he didn’t know all the details about what happened to her, if some of the most expensive fucking ice cream in the world was gonna make her feel better then he’d get the damn stuff.

  Although this fucking shit better be the best tasting stuff in the motherfucking world, he told himself as he leaned his elbows on the cart and followed her jiggling ass around the corner of the aisle with a sigh.

  *.*.*.*.*

  The silence between us lasted on the long drive back to Silo’s house and I slammed out of the truck and into my room as soon as he was parked.

  I was being a bitch and I knew it, but didn’t seem to have any control over my emotions, much less my mouth. One minute crying, the next laughing. Crawling up Silo’s butt one second but immediately being so scared I’d almost wet myself thinking of the people that might be judging as well as looking for me. And then chewing his butt yet again.

  Slinging myself onto the bed, I pulled the pillow over my face.

  What the hell was wrong with me?

  I used to be the sensible one, even-keeled. Not subject to strong emotions but that seemed to have changed. A lot.

  You went through a harrowing ordeal, one part of my mind whispered.

  I don’t want to think about it, I told myself.

  But you can’t take it out on Silo, the other voice argued. He doesn’t deserve it.

  And he didn’t. Since he’d come for me, taken me into his home, he’d been nothing but solicitous, gentlemanly in his care of me. And I appreciated it. I did. Even if the biker wasn’t the sort of man I’d been imagining would come to my rescue, taking me away from the horribleness of my life. Or what my former wonderful, rightful life had degenerated into. But he hadn’t made any overtures other than being a solicitous, helpful friend towards me.

  Is that what’s bothering you? The other damned voice whispered. That he hasn’t made a move to try and get you into his bed?

  Huh?

  Wait.

  Had I expected Silo to be overcome with lust when I’d pulled myself together with the help of Reese and Carly? Had I wanted him to just grab me and rip off all my new mass-produced clothes, smear my oh-so-carefully applied but cheap makeup and screw my brains out on the nearby couch or the living room floor?

/>   My heart drummed a deep beat as I recognized the hurt in his careful but cautious interaction with me. I’d somehow thought I’d meant more to him than just a ‘friend’.

  I listened carefully for that other voice to speak up and deny the thought but it was as silent as a tomb. And the fact that it didn’t scared me more than anything!

  I could hear noises coming from the kitchen where Silo was putting away the groceries. The crinkle of the plastic bags as he emptied them, the opening and slamming of the cabinets gave evidence he wasn’t quite back to calm yet either. But even upset, I knew everything would be put in its rightful cabinet because I’d discovered Silo wasn’t so much a neat freak as organized. All the groceries would be carefully stored in their proper place, although unlike when I did it, the labels would be turned willy-nilly and not so easily identified with just a glance.

  There was a clank of pans and I knew he’d finished with the groceries and had moved on to dinner even though it was probably around seven at night. Which to my mind was a more civilized time to eat the last meal of the day. Previously, I noted he ate dinner around 5 or 5.30 at the latest and that was too early for me. Speaking more of the hard-working masses than those of the cream of society.

  He’s probably grumpy because he’s starving, the other voice advised. You should go help him as well as apologize.

  And you should go screw yourself, I advised right the heck back. I wasn’t ready to be around him, much less apologize for my explosion at the store.

  Taking the pillow from my face, I eyed the only plastic bag I’d deemed important enough to carry. The one that held the two dozen hangers we’d purchased so I could hang up my new clothes.

  The new clothes he’d paid for but I was unsure I would wear because of their cheap fabrics and almost slutty designs.

  Damn.

  Chapter Eight

  I opened the bedroom door as slowly and as silently as I could but it creaked anyway, giving my intention away. Stepping out into the hallway, I glanced down its length, hoping for a glimpse of him before turning to go into the old fashioned bathroom.

  After taking care of my business, I hesitated before exiting.

  Would he still be mad?

  Would he even accept the apology I’d crafted as I’d worked in my room?

  Taking a deep breath, I turned out the light as I opened the door, making my way down the short hall to find him sitting on the couch, opened book in hand.

  “You okay, Shell?” he asked, using a playing card to mark his place before setting the book aside.

  “Yeah,” I said but my voice was rough. I cleared my throat and tried again. “Yes, I am. Listen, Si’, I’m sorry for…,” but he had started talking at the same time I did.

  “Dinner’s almost ready…” his voice died out and he made a circling motion with one of his hands which I took as a silent request to continue.

  “I’m really sorry for what happened at the grocery store,” I said on a much steadier voice. “I was wrong.”

  He nodded and looked away until I started talking again.

  “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. My emotions are all over the place and I…damn. I don’t know how to rein them in. I really don’t. But I’ll try not to let my temper get out of control again,” I said in a rush, finding my fingers twisting together, afraid of his reply.

  But he didn’t say anything. He just sat there, outlined in the light of the table lamp next to him, looking so fine it almost hurt my eyes to gaze at the perfection of him. The silence got to me though, and I couldn’t help blurting, “aren’t you going to say something?”

  He stood up slowly, reaching down to ease the legs of his jeans off his muscled, thick thighs. “Dinner’ll be ready in ten.”

  I felt my head jerk back in shock. I’d been expecting either an acceptance of my apology or for us to have it out. Not for him to just plainly announce when our flipping food would be ready.

  He stepped over the large coffee table and came to me. “I can fucking tell you don’t like my answer.”

  “Well…it wasn’t the one I was expecting,” I said, looking up into eyes that were beyond soft and seemed to contain a heat I’d only had a glimpse of a couple of times since our one night together. Even though I’d known then that we could never, ever be together long term.

  No.

  Silo had been the one and only bad boy in my life.

  The only one I’d allowed.

  The only one I could let myself have in spite of the glorious beauty he’d given me.

  He leaned forward until I could smell his deodorant and the muskiness of his own particular scent, an aroma that was so manly I felt my nipples sharpen as the juncture between my thighs swelled and moistened. “What’d you expect me to say, Shell?” he breathed only inches from my mouth, from lips that ached to press against his. “Tell me.”

  “I don’t know,” I whispered back, unable to tear my eyes from his. God, he was making me hot. As hot as I had been after spending only two hours with him in the bar before I’d finally found my courage and had asked him up to my room.

  “Then tell me what you wanted to hear, princess,” he murmured, leaning closer still until I could actually feel his breath against my cheeks, my lips and neck. His whole face filled my view and my body thrilled at the sight.

  “I don’t know, Si. I don’t know what I want,” I lied on lips that held so much wanting they didn’t want to work. “Ah, I mean, I don’t know what I wanted you to say.”

  “Yes you do, Shell. You fucking know what you want. What we both fucking need,” came his deeply growled reply that thrummed along all of my nerve endings, both seen and hidden. I tightened my thighs to try and control my body’s immediate reaction to his coarse words.

  His mouth, with its full bottom lip, hovered. Our breaths mingling as he stopped, hesitated as if waiting for me to take that final step to meet him halfway, to offer my mouth to him as I ached to do.

  As I had longed to do for days.

  One of his strong, muscled arms captured my waist and yanked me to him, pressing me full against his chest but still his lips remained just out of reach. “Tell me. Say it out loud.”

  My nipples were boring into the firm wall of him as our thighs pressed together, and I felt the hard ridge of him press against my stomach. As if knowing what I needed, he shifted until I was straddling one of his thighs.

  “Do you remember, baby?” he asked on a soft rasp, his deep voice muted. “How we fit together so fucking sweetly? How we made each other motherfucking feel in those few hours?”

  Oh, god.

  I did.

  I so totally did.

  The wetness between my thighs soaked into my new jeans at nothing but what he was saying and the pressure his leg was providing. His hot words and hotter breath as it caressed my skin.

  And then he bent his knees, one hand capturing one of my butt cheeks to bring me closer, tighter onto the hard thigh he’d shoved between mine. There was no way, no way in flipping hell, for me to prevent the moan that came from one of the deep places inside.

  “I can smell it, Shell. Smell what I do to you,” he growled as he shifted his face towards the place where my shoulder met my neck. “You smell of fucking sin.”

  My knees wobbled at what came out of his mouth and I was so dizzy with desire I couldn’t think straight. But my hips had their own agenda as they spasmed, dragging my crotch along the hardness of the leg he’d pressed against me.

  “That’s it. Ride me, baby,” he groaned and I felt the hardness he’d been grinding on me begin its own pulsing. “Bet your pussy is weeping for me.”

  God.

  Damn.

  Everything within me was screaming for my release, a relief I already knew he could more than provide.

  “Kiss me and help me remember why I didn’t want to fucking let you go,” he whispered and I shot towards the lips I’d only known for a short, short time but had remembered every day since.

  His tongue
snaked out, wetly wiping along the seam of my mouth and I gasped, giving him just enough room to enter, to meet my own wet, hot tongue. To duel and emulate what other parts of my anatomy were yearning to have happen.

  I mewled and received an answering growl as our tongues fought for dominance, swirling together, sucking on each other’s lips. Feasting on each other’s mouths.

  His hand, which had previously held my waist, that had held me still on his thigh, moved upwards. Skimming over my ribs, causing thrills and chills as it traversed until my breast over-spilled into his palm. And his thumb stroked it’s hard, throbbing tip.

  “Si,” I breathed, arching up to press myself up into the pleasure he was providing.

  “Want to be back inside you, Shell,” he rumbled, the bass in his voice sending vibrations into every erect part of me. “Need to sink myself into your steaming heat.”

  Oh, damn.

  That was all I needed, all it took for me to acquiesce and I nodded to let him know I wanted the same. That I needed to be stuffed full with the part of him that had filled me so completely before and that had previously brought me such pleasure that I knew, flipping knew, what heaven must be like.

  “Your place or mine?” I murmured against his mouth, the mouth that was still working wonders against my lips.

  “Couch?” I felt my lips tilt up at him, suggesting the very thing I’d fantasied about earlier.

  Never breaking contact and lifting me as he moved, Silo backed up until his knees were against the sofa. He dropped his butt, that firm beautiful butt, to the cushions even as he held onto me, his hands sliding until both palms captured my nether cheeks.

  His eyes roamed upward, caressing me visually until they hit mine. “You are so fucking beautiful, Shell. The most amazing woman I’ve ever been with.”

  I was trembling, more turned on than I’d ever been in my life which is probably why I spoke without thinking. “I missed you, Si’. After I left, I couldn’t get you out of my head.”

  His gaze, that had been roaming over my body as he cupped my butt, came back up to my face and I saw the surprise in them. “Are you fucking with me?”