Brightest As We Fall

by Cleo Peitsche

  We still have time to figure it out.

  “You know, I’ve been here before,” Jason says. “When I was a kid.”

  “Here?”

  “This part of California. It was a family trip, before Katie got sick.” He doesn’t sound traumatized or sad. Merely wistful.

  “How long has it been since you last talked to your parents?”

  “Hm.” The sound vibrates in his chest. I feel so safe when he holds me like this. “About ten years for my dad. Four or five for my mom. It’s better this way, for all parties.”

  I know so little about his family, his past. The stories from his teenage years, which frankly terrify me, those he shares easily. You’d think it’d be the other way around.

  Has he ever seen his half-siblings? Does he ever dream of his parents? I think about these things sometimes.

  “Your turn to sign, Marge!” Anita calls out.

  “Marge Simpson,” the manager says when I approach. “Marge is large and in charge.”

  I pretend he’s funny—people are so unoriginal—then roll my eyes at Anita when he’s not looking.

  Marge. What was I thinking?

  One month turns into two, then three.

  Jason talked his way into bartending the lunch shift at a private club. In the week between getting hired and his first shift, he went to the bookstore and purchased every book on bartending that they had. He posted on forums, watched hundreds of videos, and mixed countless drinks at home.

  His intensity was a little scary but also sexy. Who knew he was so ambitious?

  I snag a job as an HR assistant, thanks to Anita’s forging skills. She wants to manufacture me a college degree, but I wouldn’t feel right. I mean, I did graduate high school, so I’m not lying about that. Just fudging the details of when and where. The job is a good fit for me. My success comes from the fact that my boss is a no-nonsense perfectionist who told me to “forget everything you think you know and do exactly what I say.”

  We settle into a routine. Anita found clients, but she keeps that separate from our home life. I don’t even know where her workshop is.

  Jason and I talk about investing some of the cash into a business for him to run. We’re slow. Cautious. Taking our time. It’s not just about the money, but about us. Feeling out how we can transition. The mentality that’s kept us safe since the shootout with the Jack Rebels is counterproductive to the mindset we’ll need if we want to flourish long term.

  Then I have a week-long pregnancy scare, and Jason… doesn’t seem terrified.

  His reaction and the possibilities that suddenly open are exhilarating. And heartbreaking. Our lifestyle wouldn’t be fair to a child.

  God, I wish we didn’t have the Jack Rebels and three million secrets.

  Chapter 40

  Jason could feel the bass from Destiny Eight all the way down the block. The heavy thumping made him feel like his heart was skipping beats.

  DeeAnn bounced along beside him, their fingers interlaced. She was excited, manic almost. Tonight she wore all black: short skirt, sexy heels, a beaded top that shimmered when she moved. They hadn’t gone out for several weeks. She always claimed she didn’t like parties, didn’t like noise, but whenever Anita cajoled her into leaving the house after dark, DeeAnn always wanted to stay until the clubs closed.

  Jason genuinely didn’t like crowds. Too many uncontrollable variables. But seeing DeeAnn happy was worth it, and watching her dance was a nice bonus. She was the queen of the grind, her sweet ass provoking him, getting him hard. She loved showing off for him.

  He grinned. Maybe tonight he’d fuck her in a corner of the club.

  They reached the end of the long line, but Jason guided DeeAnn past the people waiting. She was celebrity-level hot, he had plenty of time to keep in shape, they had the right clothes and plenty of cash. He only regretted that he couldn’t give her this for real, though DeeAnn had never complained.

  The bouncer nodded as they approached. He unclipped the velvet rope and waved them through, and Jason pressed money into the man’s hand as he passed.

  DeeAnn was already moving to the music. She turned toward him, bobbing up and down along with the beat, her breasts also bobbing but keeping their own cock-hardening rhythm.

  “Hey, my eyes are up here,” she said, laughing. She locked her arms around his neck and held on to him as she undulated backward.

  Jason couldn’t help smirking. “You’re not leaving room for the Holy Ghost.”

  “Can you be sure? It’s so dark in here.” She rubbed against him. Step. Rub. Step. Rub. Although he could feel the shimmy of her breasts, he couldn’t tell if her nipples were hard, because of the beads.

  He sure enjoyed trying to figure it out, though.

  They had reached the main dance floor. VIP booths, on a slightly raised platform, ringed the room.

  “Beautiful people everywhere,” DeeAnn said. The sweeping overhead lights turned her bleached hair blue and purple. She was facing forward again and now took his hand.

  Jason saw only one beautiful person. He didn’t care about anyone else in the club.

  They worked well together, DeeAnn nimble and weaving through the crowd, and him following, forcing space because of his size. Now that they were truly in the thick of it, they became anonymous.

  Jason stopped walking, and DeeAnn had to as well. He reeled her back in and held her curvy body against his. Her breath came fast, and she looked up at him with those dark amber eyes he loved so much. Tonight they were ringed in sooty black, giving her a mysterious, forbidden look. Later, he planned to make her cry, and he would muss up her carefully styled hair. He would unravel the illusion she’d created and reveal her to herself. He wanted her messy and wet, her chin trembling as she begged him to fuck her, to stop, to spank her, for more, for less, for more and more and more…

  “What do you want to drink?” DeeAnn asked.

  Jason cleared his throat. “We always order the same drinks, and I’ll get them. Unless you want something different?”

  “You,” she said, wiggling her eyebrows.

  “Right here? No problem.” He meant it, and DeeAnn must have realized that because she shook her head quickly, backing down from the flirt.

  “Someone’s horny tonight,” she said.

  “Your short skirt might have something to do with that.” He clapped a hand on her ass. The bottom of the skirt crimped up as he squeezed, and his fingertips touched warm skin. He grunted his approval and pulled DeeAnn against his body so she could feel the length of his erection.

  Her eyes closed halfway, and she hooked one of her legs around him. No one in the crowd noticed. They were all drunk on music or booze or pills or lust.

  “I want you,” DeeAnn said. “Bad. Maybe we should go home and fuck.”

  Jason squeezed harder and felt the breath rush from her chest as she endured the pain. He preferred her like this, suffering for him. Maybe he’d corrupted her, but she needed this as much as he did.

  “Take me home,” she panted. “Tie me up.” DeeAnn wasn’t talking loud enough for him to hear, but he could read the words on her lips. And in her eyes.

  “Think I’d rather tie you down,” Jason said into her ear. He nibbled, then harder. He worked a hand into her hair and pulled, making her arch and also bringing the hot box of her pussy right against his cock. He could fuck her here. Now. Maybe he would. But not yet. “Legs spread wide, ankles shackled to the bedposts, arms over your head, your body stretched.”

  “Yes,” she moaned. “Yes, let’s do that.”

  He let go of her ass, gave it a parting slap, and stepped back, putting a sliver of space between them. DeeAnn held on to him, nails digging into the hard muscle of his arm, until she had her balance.

  “Thought you wanted to meet up with Anita,” Jason said, straight-faced.

  DeeAnn winced. “I can’t believe I forgot her. You shorted my brain. Or… Should I be worried that you’re thinking about another woman right now?”

&
nbsp; “Nope.”

  “Are you sure?” she asked, teasing. “She’s gorgeous.”

  “I’m thinking about her because she’s walking toward us.”

  DeeAnn shook her head. “Why did you wait to tell me that? You’re so exasperating.” She turned. Jason knew the moment she and Anita made eye contact because Anita stopped waving to get their attention and began waving for them to come over. He held back a few steps, eyes sweeping the club.

  Crowds. You never knew who was watching.

  These days, you never knew who was recording.

  That wasn’t just the clubs, either. More times than he could count, he’d had to approach a father on vacation and ask him to leave DeeAnn out of the photos and videos. Jason usually said it was witness protection, but sometimes he got more creative, inventing stalkers or monstrous exes. It depended on the audience.

  Satisfied that no one was paying attention to them, Jason pushed through the throng to catch up with the women.

  Anita had laid claim to one of the VIP booths. They didn’t have the whole area to themselves, but their neighbors, two men in expensive suits who were surrounded by plastic blondes and half-empty champagne glasses, were cheerfully occupied. Jason wasn’t an expert, but the men’s clothing and hairstyles felt like next year’s fashion, and their enormous cell phones weren’t models he recognized.

  One of the men had noticed DeeAnn. His gaze swept appreciatively down her body. Then he noticed Jason. Jason didn’t threaten, didn’t shake his head. He just looked back. The man jerked his head away fast.

  DeeAnn had crowded beside Anita on the blue velvet booth. She patted the inadequate remaining space.

  Jason walked to the next VIP booth, grabbed a short, plush chair, and carried it back.

  “Inefficient,” Anita said to Jason. “You could have let DeeAnn sit on your lap.”

  Jason played with that image as he dropped onto the chair. He imagined gripping DeeAnn’s hip, his fingers digging in possessively, reminding her that she was his. Then using that hand to pick up his glass, take a sip of whatever he was drinking, maybe hold the drink to DeeAnn’s mouth. And when the mood struck him, when DeeAnn was least expecting it, lowering his arm and working two fingers into her wet pussy. He imagined her trying not to squirm as he finger-banged her. He imagined holding still and feeling the slick, wet walls of her pussy squeezing him.

  Hell. No need to imagine it. He stood, pulled DeeAnn up, and took her seat. She happily collapsed onto his lap and into his arms, and even though Jason had X-rated deeds on his mind, he enjoyed the moment, having her close and knowing she was safe, that they were safe.

  A waitress arrived. A shamrock on a gold chain hung around her neck. Jason noticed the thick roll of ones stashed in her cleavage. Most of the waitresses were more careful than that. He didn’t recognize this woman, and unless she dumped drinks on him, he doubted he’d remember her the next time they came in.

  “Negroni, mojito, whiskey on the rocks,” he said, and handed the waitress cash. The waitress nodded and dropped three napkins on the nearby table.

  “Gotta pee,” Anita said, standing. She wobbled past him. Jason wondered if she was drunk or high. He didn’t care either way. Anita handled her shit. She’d always been like that and he appreciated it.

  He also appreciated that she didn’t try to tempt him back into illegal pursuits. DeeAnn didn’t seem to care what Anita did, for the most part, but Jason knew if he went looking for contacts, it would break her heart.

  It would also be dangerous as hell.

  “Get over here,” he said, turning DeeAnn around on his lap. He stood partially and moved over until they were in the section of the booth farthest from the masses on the dance floor.

  DeeAnn’s eyes gleamed with excitement. She started to reach down between them, but Jason grabbed her hand and twisted it behind her back.

  Which made her wiggle. Which shoved her boobs toward him. Which made him even harder.

  Chapter 41

  Jason took a moment to appreciate how sexy DeeAnn was, searing the visual into his memory. He found her seductive in gym gear and a messy bun, wanted to ravish her in office clothes, and thought she was bewitching all dressed up.

  But tonight, he couldn’t get enough of her.

  He’d never seen the point of relationships, of love. The mere thought used to give him cold sweats. But he got it now. When he was exercising in the bungalow’s guest bedroom, he liked to hear her moving around in the bedroom, or playing with the dog, or laughing with Anita. After a long shift at the private club, the mere sight of DeeAnn waiting for him was hot enough to burn away his exhaustion.

  Still holding her wrists behind her back, Jason slid his other hand up her smooth bare thigh, under the hem of her short skirt, and snagged the edge of her panties. Pulling them down, no, he didn’t have time for that, so instead he took hold of the satiny cotton, pushed his hips into the air to move DeeAnn off of him, and jerked her panties to the side.

  “Stay lifted up,” he said, and DeeAnn hovered several inches over him. He felt her trapped hands trying to push down the bottom of her skirt. The tip of her tongue touched the corner of her mouth.

  Jason took himself out quickly, then nudged the head of his cock inside her.

  “Oh my god,” she breathed, her eyes closing as he slid her down his shaft. His thickness stretched her wide. She was wet, dripping wet. He released her panties and felt the elastic pressing into the base of his cock.

  “This is a quickie,” he said into her ear. “Get me off, babe. Squeeze me. Get me off, but be subtle about it.”

  DeeAnn rolled her hips and Jason felt her tightening her inner muscles. This was something they did together, where he made her get on top and bring him to orgasm without moving too much. With DeeAnn, he could come at any time. But he liked making her sweat for it.

  The dance music changed from frenetic energy to a slow, deep beat. Jason identified it as an almost unrecognizable remix of an old Ice Cube song, “You Can Do It.” Even as an electric hum joined in, that same underlying beat remained. It was a good rhythm for fucking, so Jason hooked his arm around DeeAnn’s waist, held her steady, and fucked into her.

  “Oh god, oh god, oh god,” she moaned.

  She’d completely dropped the seductive hip rolls, now driven out of her mind with lust. When that happened at home, Jason sometimes took away her blossoming orgasm and made her work to earn more attention from him. Right now, though, this was one of his fantasies. Fucking his hot girlfriend in public. The people sharing their booth had noticed, but Jason didn’t care. They couldn’t see anything, and they weren’t filming.

  Aware that time was running out before Anita returned, Jason leaned forward and growled into DeeAnn’s ear. “Now. Come now. Yes. Come, beautiful.”

  DeeAnn shook on his lap, her pussy milking his cock, but he held her tight to keep her from thrashing. His own orgasm was less easy to control, but somehow he managed.

  Still holding her close, Jason fell limp against the back of the bench.

  “Holy shit,” DeeAnn said. Then, “How am I gonna get cleaned up?”

  “Napkins on the table behind you.”

  She turned, grabbed them, and surreptitiously thrust her hand under her skirt and moved her arm around. Her hand emerged, the napkins wadded up and clenched in her fist. “I’m getting off now.”

  “And here I thought you’d already gotten off,” he said with a smirk.

  She gave him a wobbly smile, then moved to the side, allowing Jason a brief few seconds to put himself away.

  The waitress materialized with their drinks, and a moment later, Anita reappeared. DeeAnn ducked her head and gave Jason a sly look. Our secret, she seemed to be saying.

  Jason nodded. It was their secret. Well, theirs and the six other people sitting at the booth.

  He watched as DeeAnn said something in Anita’s ear. Anita said something back. Then DeeAnn blew him a kiss and the women left together.

  One of their neigh
bors took the opportunity to slide across the booth. “Your girlfriends are quite pretty,” he said.

  “Only one is my girlfriend. The other is just a friend.”

  “Is she single?”

  Jason glanced at the busty blondes. He figured that after Shot, there was no chance Anita would put up with another man-child wannabe player. “Her husband is a cop. One jealous motherfucker. He shot a man for looking at his wife too long. Poor fellow didn’t die, but he uses a bag to pee.”

  The man accepted the news by nodding while skittering back to his side of the booth, where he threw himself into a tangle of long, tanned limbs.

  Jason thought about the man who’d actually shot someone in the groin. He wasn’t a cop; quite the opposite. Some sleepy-eyed midlevel drug dealer with anger issues. Currently serving an eight-year sentence for possession with intent to distribute.

  Sipping his whiskey, Jason watched the masses writhing on the dance floor and wondered why he’d gotten so lucky, why the fates had put DeeAnn in his path all those months ago. If not for her, he’d probably be dead. Or in prison, if he was lucky.

  Or maybe he’d be ruling the streets. Picking up where AJ had left off, doing the dirtiest of the dirty work.

  DeeAnn returned.

  “Where’s Anita?” Jason asked, wondering if there was time for a second fuck.

  “Getting something for dessert,” she said with a coy look just as Anita sashayed into view, towing a man behind her. Tall guy. Haircut like an investment banker’s. Too clean-shaven to be hanging out with the likes of them. The man and Jason exchanged nods.

  DeeAnn sipped from her drink, her pink tongue darting to the corner of her mouth. Jason stood, caught her wrist. “Let’s dance,” he said, scanning the club for empty space.

  Two men at the bar caught his attention.

  Jason froze.

  With the extra height afforded by the dais, Jason had an excellent view. If the men turned, they’d have an excellent view, too. For now, they were partially facing away. One of the men glanced toward the bartender.