There's This Guy

by Rhys Ford

  And when Jake finally touched solid ground, he’d stood in the shaky mess he’d become and found someone who saw the person within the rot and fear.

  “Love you.” Jake’s whisper was lost, carried off in the velvet whispers of Dallas’s thickening Southern accent. He didn’t need Dallas to hear him. Mostly he just needed to know Dallas was there, and when Jake reached for his lover, Dallas shot him a naughty grin.

  “You okay, babe?” Dallas licked at Jake’s belly button, then chuckled at Jake’s short nod. “Because if you aren’t—”

  “Will you just stop talking and do this? Because—” Dallas’s fingers slid in, filling Jake until he choked on the sensations coursing through him. “Oh… damn.”

  Those fingers, fiendishly erotic and deliciously intrusive, stroked and teased for a long, shuddering moment. Then Jake was empty, left gasping and aching for more. Dallas shifted his weight, his knees dimpling the bed between Jake’s legs, and he slicked himself over the condom he’d put on, his gaze caught on Jake’s face.

  The shadows and light loved Dallas, playing catch along the lines of his muscles and burying into the depths of his inky black hair. He was a golden-pale sweep of beauty and silly, a tumble of laughter and seriousness intermingled with a pure sweetness Jake didn’t know he needed until Dallas was there, filling his life… filling his body.

  Oh God, he was filling Jake’s body in a slow, torturous glide of hard flesh, a broad, firm length Jake wasn’t sure would fit—didn’t know if he could take—until he felt one of Dallas’s hands along his side, stroking away the shivers. And then Dallas nestled against the rise of Jake’s ass, guiding Jake’s legs up to rest on his hips.

  Dallas didn’t ask if Jake was okay. He waited. Silently waited and stroked at Jake’s belly, letting him get used to the feeling of a man’s cock—Dallas’s cock—buried inside of him. It was an awkward pleasure, pressing the air from Jake’s chest and mottling his thoughts with bursts of tingles and building desire.

  Then Dallas moved, stroking his shaft along the inside of Jake’s core, and the world churned, turning into a field of stars.

  Dallas’s fingers were on Jake’s shaft, a gentle, twisting caress until Jake closed his hand over Dallas’s. Then they began to stroke in unison, a slow, steady pump along Jake’s cock. Dallas’s hips moved, rolling into Jake’s depths, and Jake didn’t think he could be stretched out any farther, take in any more. Then Dallas slid over the already too tangled spot of pleasure in Jake’s body.

  And Jake let go.

  He fell. Or flew. He wasn’t sure which. It didn’t matter anymore. His body responded, a mindless need driving his hips and fueling a thirst for Dallas he didn’t think he’d ever quench. Their legs grew wet, damp with sweat, and Dallas leaned over him, panting hard but pushing in, reaching for Jake’s soul and cresting pleasure. Their hands moved furiously in unison until their release hit them hard, together, and the beat they’d found was lost in the crescendo of a powerful climax.

  It hit Jake first. Coming up out of the frenetic slide of their limbs and joined bodies, his pleasure slapped at his mind, breaking away any threads of control clinging to his thoughts. Nothing existed but Dallas. Nothing mattered but the pleasure Dallas was driving into him, taking from him, and then Jake felt his body clench, seizing around the orgasm about to rip through him.

  Definitely flying. Or maybe falling.

  He was caught in the froth of their release, tumbling over the too hot too muchness of what they’d done, were doing. Jake was on the edge of a silvered emotion, seeing Dallas go over the edge in a gasping, lunging push. His lover’s shoulders bunched, arms stiff and framing Jake’s shoulders. Dallas rocked in, hard and fast, then shuddered, his climax shaking through him as he found his release in Jake’s heat.

  They tumbled over one another, a slide of bones and worn muscles, a stretch of tendon and laughter when Dallas pulled the lube out from under his hip, the skin there bruised from Jake’s clenching fingers.

  “You. Are. Absolutely. Fantastic. And I can’t wait to do that again. Any way you want it, I’m there, babe,” Dallas gasped. Dallas’s phone burbled Celeste’s ringtone before Jake could reply, and Dallas frowned, lifting his head up to stare at the table where he’d left it. “Shit. I am not going to get that.”

  “You should.” Jake found his lips were numb, a bit swollen from their kissing, but he didn’t care, stretching out across the sheets. “She’s with your mom, remember?”

  “Shit. I hate that you think of the right thing to do when all I want to do is roll around with you some more,” Dallas mumbled.

  He stole a quick, hot, nibbling kiss from Jake, then slid off the bed, naked and beautiful. His limp cock swung slightly when he walked, his asscheeks firm and supple, bunching as he moved. He grabbed the phone and answered with a short, playful “What?” Then the color drained from his face. The call was short, too short for Jake to do anything but get off the bed and catch Dallas when he stumbled over one of the dining chair’s legs.

  “Dallas, what’s wrong?” Jake held Dallas close, reaching for the phone in Dallas’s hand. “You’re scaring me. What’s happened?”

  “We have to get dressed.” Those pale blue eyes, filled with fire only a few moments before, were now wide with fear. “We have to go to the hospital. Someone’s attacked my mom.”

  Seventeen

  “SHE’S GOING to be fine,” Dallas reassured Jake all the way to the hospital, but his hands shook when he ran them through his dark hair, and when Jake pulled the Tesla up to the hospital’s front door to let Dallas out, his lover stared blankly at the entrance, his lips pulled into a tight white line.

  He’d parked the sports car, then spent a good ten minutes trying to find Dallas in the maze of corridors and people, finally stumbling across a forlorn Celeste sitting in the corner of the ER’s waiting room, her bright-green-polished fingernails tapping at a crinkled paper cup. There was a uniformed cop hovering nearby, a phone plastered to his ear as he carried on a half conversation with one of the male nurses at the ER’s admittance station. There were clusters of people, a few holding appendages in various states of injury, but the long hall was fairly quiet, a large television screen mounted to a wall softly playing a kid’s cartoon with Spanish subtitles.

  “She’s going to be fine,” Celeste murmured when he slid into the chair next to her. Her stare was hard, a flat line of dark pinned to a pair of closed swinging doors on the far wall. “She’s going to be just fine.”

  Jake reached for her hand, and Celeste glanced at his fingers, startled when Jake touched her. Setting the damaged cup down on the floor near her feet, she took Jake’s hand and leaned into him, resting her tear-streaked cheek against his shoulder.

  Unless Celeste took to wearing a short retro green-and-pink polka-dotted white dress and blush go-go boots to lounge around the house, Jake gathered they’d gone out for the evening. Blood splattered the dress, a smear of it across Celeste’s chest and more on her belly. Her ever-changing hair was blonde this time, teased up high in a hairdo he’d seen his grandmother sporting in the one photo his mother had of her. From its frizzy ends and wild strands escaping from the bubbled mass, Jake wondered if he was seeing Celeste’s actual hair. Her face was puffy, with black runnels dappling her skin, streaks of mascara and eyeliner smudged away from under her lashes, but her cold grip was strong, nearly crushing Jake’s fingers.

  “What happened?” He’d gotten little out of Dallas other than a knife and a lot of blood. The drive to the hospital was tense until Dallas bent over at a red light, kissed him hard, and told Jake he couldn’t have borne his worry and anger if Jake hadn’t been there. “What did the doctors tell you? Did the cops talk to you already?”

  “Last things first, the cop—there’s a ginger one, a detective—is inside talking to Martha. The kid in the uniform called, and he showed up a couple of minutes later. He told me to stay put while he talks to Martha, and then he’ll come out to get my statement.” Celeste sniffed, a
nd she gave the tissue box Jake put under her nose a watery smile. “God, Dallas is… I could hate him for spotting you first. You, Jakey, are a doll. A gorgeous, sweet, loveable doll. With one of the best asses I’ve ever seen. If ever you decide to toss Dallas out, give me a call.”

  “I… I was going to say I don’t think you have the equipment I like, but then… it’s because to me, you’re a girl. All girl. So even if you still have… that… you’re a girl.” He kissed her temple, smelling a whiff of powder and cherries on her skin. “You confuse me sometimes, and I don’t know what to say.”

  “You do just fine, sweetie.” Celeste dabbed at her eyes, then grimaced at the inky smears left on the tissue. “God, I must look a mess.”

  “You look beautiful,” he reassured her. “And I don’t even like women.”

  “Seriously, you’re going to break my heart.” Putting her head back down, she sighed. “And as to what happened? I have no fucking clue. Martha forgot her purse at Bombshells, so I stopped there before we went out to the show. She wanted to get it before dinner, but I told her I had it. I was going to take her out, but…. God, I should have gone then. She wouldn’t have been—”

  “Celeste, sometimes things happen.” Jake sighed at the irony of him imparting wisdom about fates and changed courses. “It sounds stupid, but they do. I know. Looking back at the what could be doesn’t do anything but eat you up inside. Then you’ve got to go find someone to talk to, someone you like, and it takes forever to get your head on straight.”

  “You know something, sweetie?” She looked up at him, rubbing at her reddened nose. “I think that’s the most you’ve ever said to me. I can’t help it. Martha’s like… she’s like a mother. A real mother. Who cooks really badly and one time gave me food poisoning with a taco, but still, she held my hair while I puked my guts out. And she cleaned the bathroom floor when I’d missed the bowl. I wanted to crawl under a rock, and she was all… no, darling, don’t worry about it. If you love someone, you don’t care what is happening, you just want them to feel better. She wants to make me feel better, Jake. How can I not feel like shit for letting some asshole stab her?”

  “Did you see who did it?” The worry was back, digging into Jake’s spine. “Celeste, was she okay? Dallas didn’t know. Should I try to go in there?”

  “They won’t let you. I’m surprised they let Dallas in, but… you know, an actual blood relative. Okay, maybe that makes sense.” Celeste sighed, tucking her arm into Jake’s. “Martha went inside, and then I heard her scream. I was so scared, Jake. Just so fucking scared. It was so dark, and I couldn’t see how badly she was hurt, but….”

  Celeste’s voice changed, her deep contralto breaking down, fragmenting into a higher pitch, a glittery confetti of panic and fear. The chair’s arm dug into Jake, but he ignored the spur in his side, leaning over to drag Celeste out of her seat and into a tight embrace.

  It was awkward, a half hug with their legs sprawled out, but Celeste clung to him, burying her face into his chest and muffling her howls in the bunches of his T-shirt she’d pulled into her clenched fists. The cop glanced at them, alert and concerned, but Jake shook his head, silently assuring him she was okay. A minute later, Celeste had cried herself out, settling into a raging fit of hiccups, then sat back, patting at Jake’s makeup-mottled shirt. Then in a quiet, still voice, Celeste began talking.

  “She took me bra shopping.” Her eyes were unfocused, drifting back to the closed doors again, and her voice dropped back down, rolling through a velvet huskiness. Celeste’s fingers tore through the tissues in her hand, a rainfall of pale specks drifting down to dust the ER’s tiled floor. “When I first started… hormones, you know? I was staying at the ranch, in one of the bungalows. Everything was just too much for me to deal with, and let me tell you, that shit takes months. I felt sick, and my body wasn’t changing quickly…. I wanted it all to be magical, but… it wasn’t. Then one day, she pulled me out of my bed, made me put on my prettiest clothes, and we went out shopping. For bras.

  “I never had a bra before. But here was this crazy woman, dragging me into some chi-chi store where everything was pink and lace and telling the saleswoman we were there to get me fitted, to get her daughter fitted. My boobs were… they weren’t an A cup, but a lot of that was just me being big already, but there was my fucking magical. That should have been something I did with my own mother, but Martha was there, laughing with me as we tried to figure out what was going to fit me and what I’d have to buy later when they changed… yet again.” Celeste’s tears ran down her face, but she left them unchecked. “We had lunch, and I got pampered the hell out of at the lingerie store. And for the first time in my life, I felt like a fucking woman, Jake. A full goddamned woman, and I can’t… I’m not ready to let the woman who gave me that leave this world, and I feel like it’s my fault. I shouldn’t have—”

  “You said it yourself, Celeste. She’s going to be okay.” Jake hesitantly wiped at her face with a tissue, unsure of the etiquette on smearing already ruined makeup. “It wasn’t your fault. You weren’t… you did nothing wrong, and Dallas will be out here in a bit, then… and wait, why didn’t you go inside? Why did you stay out here?”

  “Because I panicked when they asked me if I was related to her. Like an idiot I said no. I should have told them I’m her daughter.” Her hands were back on his, fingernails digging into his skin. “Seriously, I heard her scream, and everything went weird. I saw someone running, and for a second I thought it was Martha, but it was the guy who’d stabbed her. I didn’t even think about him. I needed to find her, and she was against the building. I just grabbed her, threw her into my car, and headed here. I think I ran every red light. I’m going to have so many fucking tickets because of the traffic cams, but screw it. I don’t care.”

  “But she was awake? You’re not helping me, C.” Jake patted her face again, then handed her the tissue. “And this isn’t helping you. All I’m doing is making more of a mess.”

  “She was awake. Complaining and telling me she was going to be fine, but….” Celeste hiccupped again. “Who knows what was on that knife or what that guy stabbed. I wasn’t going to wait for someone to show up in an ambulance an hour later. She’s too important to me… to everyone. God, Dallas is going to hate my guts. I got his mother stabbed. This is worse than when I killed all the fish in his freshwater tank.”

  “Mister Moore?” A fresh-faced woman in purple scrubs called out from behind the admittance counter, then smiled when Jake stood. “Your boyfriend just wanted me to tell you both his mom’s fine and they’ll be out after the detective takes her statement.”

  “Oh, thank God,” Celeste moaned. Then she fixed a steely glare on Jake. The stress eased off her face, and she pursed her mouth at him. Making another attempt at cleaning her face off dislodged a false eyelash, and she plucked it free, leaving her looking like she’d attached a dead caterpillar to the other side. “So she’s going to be fine, and he had them ask for you.”

  “Do not look at me. I don’t know why he didn’t have her tell you—”

  “Screw that, sugar.” Celeste sat back, crossing her legs and tugging her soiled dress down over her knees. “Tell me exactly when you became Dallas’s boyfriend. And leave nothing out.”

  “WHAT CAN you tell me about the man who attacked you, Mrs. Yates?”

  The tall, rangy detective had introduced himself nearly the moment he’d come through the cordoned-off space they’d put his mother in, but Dallas couldn’t recall his name. He wore a wedding ring and a gray suit tailored to fit his lanky form, had a pleasant face and a warm, professional smile, but it was hard getting past the fiery red of his tousled hair.

  If he was asked later why he had vision issues, Dallas was going to swear it was the spectral burn the detective’s hair left on his eyes.

  “Are you all right, Mr. Yates?” The detective’s question jerked Dallas’s attention away from the silken red beacon screaming at him from the top of the man’s head. “Sho
ck over someone being hurt is common, so if you need some medical assistance or a breather, we can get that for you. This shouldn’t take long.”

  With the adrenaline leeched out of his system, the evening he’d spent with Jake was beginning to make itself known, and it wasn’t that terrible to feel Jake’s teeth marks tingle along his ribs. His body throbbed and ached in places he hadn’t thought existed, but after the screaming panic of knowing his mother was hurt finally died down, Dallas was… happy.

  The detective probably thought he was a mindless idiot, sitting next to his mother’s hospital bed, her side patched up in a thick layer of bandages, and he had a goofy, shit-eating grin plastered all over his face.

  “Sorry, I’m just… it’s been a long day, and yeah, Mom being hurt sort of ramped up my nerves.” He made a silly face at his mother. “Stop trying to scare the living shit out of me, Mom, and answer the nice man’s questions so we can get you home before Dad lands.”

  “You did not call your father over this,” she gasped. “Oh God, he must be worried sick. I can’t believe you called him.”

  Dallas smirked at her. “I didn’t have to. Celeste did.”

  “Mrs. Yates?” The detective pushed into the conversation. “Any description would be helpful.”

  “My height? Maybe a little bit taller.” His mother shifted in the bed, wincing when she smacked her elbow on its railing. “Older. He was…. He wasn’t all that concerned about personal hygiene, Detective Camden.”

  Unlike Dallas, apparently his mother remembered names mumbled through the noise of a busy ER ward.

  The detective began to make notes in a tiny book. “So he smelled? Or was dirty?”