by Ashley Harma
“Good enough reason for me,” she said.
“All right,” he closed the locker and stood up. “Let’s go.” He grabbed her hand and pulled her out of the locker room, back into the hallway and through a different door to a small offshoot of the shooting range. In here were goggles and muffler headphones, plus a whole wall of firearms.
“Wait, is that legal? To have a whole shelf of guns? I thought you had to bring your own or something—“ Barrett handed her a set of headphones.
“Told you, private place. Private rules.”
“I’ve been hearing that a lot these days.”
“Yeah, well, you work at Club Malevolence. Get used to it.” He handed her a pair of goggles now, and then walked to the gun wall and grabbed a small handgun. “We’ll just share this one, unless you want your own.”
“Hmmm,” Lila slinked over to join him at the shelf. She ran a hand over some of the guns, walking along the wall and inspecting them. Barrett watched her, a quiet lust building in his eyes. She could feel the heat behind his gaze on her body. She stopped at a handgun, similar in size to the one Barrett had but with a different grip, and picked it up. It was heavy and cool in her hand, but the grip fit her nicely. “You take that one, I’ll take this one.” She smirked at him, and he clenched his jaw in a smile in return.
“Okay, come on.” He led her through the door into the range.
Chapter Fourteen
“You’re a natural,” he said to her, back in the locker room. They’d spent a couple hours shooting, Barrett teaching Lila the ropes, sidling up behind her to show her a better position for her arm. He’d found a million ways to touch her that afternoon, and Lila was doing everything she could to keep her cool. She didn’t want to give Barrett the upper hand, and he really already had it. She had been a pretty good shooter, actually, and after a couple rounds of getting used to it, she was getting a lot of kill shots. Barrett, of course, was great—a shot off target was rarer for him than the opposite. He’d shot a smiley face right before they went back to the locker room, the grinning ghost flying back to them as they pulled the paper in.
“Yeah, you’re not so bad yourself,” she responded, leaning back on her elbows on the wooden bench, watching Barrett take his sneakers off. She was splayed out, legs straddling the bench, begging him to touch her here but not wanting to initiate it. He chuckled, putting his sneakers back into the locker. Then, he twisted his chest in her direction, taking her in, biting his bottom lip. She tapped her feet impatiently, grinning at him. Come on, she thought. Come on, Barrett.
As if hearing her thoughts, he slid himself closer, putting his hands on the bench on either side of her waist, and leaning forward, dragging his face lightly up her stomach, between her breasts, until his mouth found her bare neck and latched on. It felt like salvation to Lila, having Barrett explore her body again. She arched her back to meld further with him, moaning softly as he licked up and down her throat. Barrett swung a leg over the bench so he was sitting on it, then grabbed Lila roughly and pulled her onto his lap. Their mouths met as their hips did, and they kissed ferociously, hungrily. Barrett pulled her down hard onto him, and she could feel him hardening through his jeans. She ground into him, pushing against his tongue with hers, twisting her fingers into his hair.
“Oh, fuck,” he gasped into her mouth. He circled his arms around her, squeezing her tightly as he rubbed into her. “Lila,” he moaned. His hands found their way up her shirt, working his fingertips into her shoulder blades, dragging them down her spine. He slid a hand past the waist of her pants, into her panties, and gripped her ass. Lila let her hands fall between them into Barrett’s lap, finding his stiff cock and rubbing it through the thick fabric. He growled a little and let his head rest in the crook of her neck, rising to her touch, lifting his hips to get more from her. With his free hand he smacked her ass lightly, biting her bottom lip and then filling her mouth with his tongue. “I want to fuck you, right here, right now, so badly.”
Something inside her exploded at the words, and she felt ravenous, parched, desperate. “I want you to,” she said breathlessly, palming him harder through his jeans.
He groaned into her neck. “Don’t have a condom,” he managed to stutter. Lila left his crotch to pull her crop top over her head, exposing her black lace bra.
“I’m on the pill,” she gasped, unbuttoning his pants. “Anything I should know about?” she asked as she started to unzip them. Barrett pulled back slightly to look at her.
“No, but—are you sure you want to do that?” he asked, staring into her eyes.
“I’m fucking sure, Barrett, as long as you know and you’re being honest with me,” she stared back at him.
“I get tested regularly, and I’m being honest with you here.” He kept watching her.
“Then fuck me.” She slipped her hand beneath his jeans and stroked him through his cotton underwear, feeling the length of him. He was big, full, and rock hard. She pulled the waistband of his Hanes down and circled a thumb over the tip of his cock. He grunted loudly and found her mouth again, ravishing it. He started to lean her back, kissing down her neck to her chest, where he pulled her bra back with his teeth and found a nipple. She gasped as he licked and sucked, running her hands through his hair as her back met the wood. He unhooked her bra and pulled it off her, dropping it to the floor. Lila thought for a moment that maybe they should be worried about someone coming in—but Barrett sat up and ripped his shirt over his head, and at the sight of his chiseled, Adonis-like body, she quickly forgot any worries she had.
He unbuttoned her pants and yanked them down her legs, standing up to get them over her feet and toss them to the side. He dropped his own pants and underwear and stepped out of them, and Lila stared at him, full and hard, his cock as perfectly sculpted as the rest of him. Before she could bask for too long, he grabbed her panties and pulled them off, dipping his mouth to lick her drenched pussy once before he sat back down on the bench, drawing her on top of him again.
She wrapped her arms around his neck and he held his cock with one hand, positioning its head at her entrance and lowering her onto him slowly. At the contact, Lila simpered and moaned. She wanted all of him, all at once, as much as she could take. She ground down, pushing him deep inside her. They both cried out softly, breaths hot and mixing, bodies pressing together, trying to melt into one. Barrett bucked up to meet her and Lila bore down, both of them fervently grinding into each other. His hands sank into her flesh, pulling her down like he needed it, like he could mold her flat against him, nothing more than clay. She tasted the back corners of his mouth, tongues battling, drinking from him like a puddle in the desert.
Their speed picked up, both of them too hot for each other to pace themselves, though Barrett was clearly trying. His brow was furrowed, jaw clenched, making a conscious effort to control himself. Lila wanted to swallow him whole. She pushed him back flat against the bench, biting both of his nipples quickly and sharply as she sat back up and rode him hard. Her back arched and her tits bounced as he, moaning loudly and lapping her up with his eyes, pounded up into her.
“Fuck, Lila,” he groaned, bringing his hands up to her breasts, cupping them hard and tweaking her nipples with his fingers. She gasped and pressed her hands into his abs, working herself harder down onto him, grinding herself into exquisite pleasure. His hands left her breasts and one cupped her behind the neck and brought her forward, flat onto him, the other hand smacking against her ass and staying there for leverage, forcing her into faster thrusts. He lifted his hips off the bench and pounded into her, unable to hold back any longer. She whimpered loudly, her pitch rising higher and higher as the tension in her body did. The bench was digging into her thighs, but she couldn’t feel anything besides the hot lava build-up bubbling inside her. Barrett was moaning in time with his thrusts, and his face, twisted in sublime pleasure, began to kick Lila over the edge.
“Barrett,” she cried. “Oh, fuck, Barrett, oh my fucking god.” He smashed
her mouth into his, pummeling her tongue like her pussy, and she felt herself peaking, toes curling, eyes rolling. “I’m coming,” she groaned. He picked up his speed and force, fucking her hard, pushing her over the edge. As her body started to rock with orgasm, he let himself go, a moan pushing its way out of his mouth as he shuddered with her. They came together, rocking against each other, plummeting from the same dizzying height.
All was still in the aftermath, and the only sound was the two of them panting loudly. Slowly, the room came back into focus for Lila, details faded back in from white. They were sweaty and pressed together, chests heaving, bodies spent. Barrett’s big hand found her hair, stroking her head gently as she rested it on his chest. Lila traced lazy circles on his slick pectoral, unable to keep from touching him, from exploring his beautiful body. Her body grew more aware of the present: thighs bruising against the hard wooden bench, Barrett performing a balancing act of laying flat on it and holding them both straight. They should move, she knew, but Barrett was still inside her, and she didn’t want to give that up just yet.
At that moment, Barrett smacked her ass. “All right, up, before someone finds us.” He started to sit up, so Lila did, too, whether she wanted to or not. When they were both upright, Barrett kissed her again—this time somewhat unfeelingly—and lifted her off his lap. He stood up, stretching his arms and back, wiping the sweat from his forehead. “That was great,” he said, grabbing a small hand towel from his locker and patting his face dry. He held it out to her.
“Yeah, it was,” Lila felt a little confused again. Just like last time, she thought she and Barrett had just had a pretty transcendent experience—and now that it was over, Barrett seemed completely removed. “You going to tell me money’s on the dresser and leave me to find my own way home?” She attempted a joking tone, but she wasn’t sure if she succeeded.
Barrett gave a half-hearted laugh. “No, I’m not going to do that.” He started to pick up his clothes off the floor, so Lila did the same. She was trying not to think it, but she felt hurt. She didn’t expect him to lay there and say I love you afterwards, but this shift in tone hit her harder than she thought it would. She distracted herself by going for her own clothes. The silence was unbearable as they both got dressed.
Barrett was ready before she was, putting his things in his locker and shutting it, snapping the padlock back into place. He sat on the bench while she put her shoes back on. He seemed to want to say something, but couldn’t bring himself to do it. He looked at the floor.
“What’s going on?” Lila finally asked, unable to take it anymore.
“Nothing,” he said, too quickly. Her speaking seemed to have jolted him back into the affectedly casual manner he’d had before, and he stood up again. “Ready to go?” He headed for the door.
“Uh, yeah, I guess,” Lila followed him. They said goodbye to Bruce at the door, who was still watching Lila suspiciously, but she didn’t care now. She didn’t want to be here anymore, didn’t want to be around Barrett anymore. She wanted to be at home, in her own bed, instead of feeling awkward and even ashamed in the parking lot of this shooting range. They got to the motorcycle and Barrett got on. Lila hesitated.
“What, Lila, what is it?” he said with an exasperated sigh, not looking at her.
“Oh, gee, Barrett, nothing, everything is normal.” She didn’t get on the bike yet.
“Don’t do this, come on,” he said, still talking to the gas tank.
“Do what?” she asked dangerously.
“God, girls always do this.” He shook his head.
“Give me a fucking break, Barrett, girls always do this. All we did was have sex. It’s not a big deal. I’m not looking for a marriage proposal here, but I’d like it if you treated me like a fucking human being right now.” She crossed her arms and watched him.
“I am treating you like a human being. You’re treating me like a criminal for not, I don’t know, showering you with rose petals and composing love poems immediately after.”
“I’m not treating you like a criminal, Barrett. I’m treating you like a psychopath.” She took a gamble, calling back to their standard joke, trying to reach him through whatever weird coping mechanism he was pulling right now. His eyes finally flashed up to her, his jaw clenched, and again the anger she’d seen once or twice sparked in his face for a moment. But Lila held his gaze, smirking slightly, trying to show him it was okay and—it worked. Barrett cracked a smile, then laughed, relieved.
“You’re a real handful, you know that?” he asked, holding her gaze for a moment. Then, good-naturedly, “Now get the fuck on my bike and I’ll take you home.” She picked up the helmet and slid it on, immersing herself in Barrett’s scent again, and hopped on behind him. She wrapped her arms around his waist, pulling him close. It was hard to believe that not ten minutes ago, they’d been in the throes of passion, and now it seemed like it’d never happened. Barrett was a difficult case, Lila realized, and she was going to have handle him accordingly or he’d ditch her completely.
Chapter Fifteen
Barrett dropped her off at the Morans’. When she handed him the helmet, he yanked her close and kissed her hard.
“Next time, don’t bother wearing clothes,” he growled at her.
“Next time? Not without a ring and love song, buddy,” she shoved his shoulder. She wanted to keep it light and funny for now—she’d work on him later, slowly, carefully. She turned and jaunted up the driveway to the door. At the welcome mat, she could hear a woman crying and a man yelling. Right as she thought maybe she should turn around, get Barrett to take her home, the door opened and the valet stood there. Behind him, Lila saw Lyle in a rage, pacing in the living room, Tiffany crying on the couch, and Jackson sitting back defiantly, clutching Tiffany to him and staring his father down with malice. Lila tried to say something quietly to the valet about coming back, but Jackson, of course, saw her.
“Oh, hey, Lila, come in,” his tone was angry. Lyle turned and saw her, and something like interest flashed in his eyes for a moment, then disappeared immediately. Lila got chills for a moment, though she wasn’t sure why.
“No, no,” she said quietly, “I’ll come back, sorry for interrupting.” She tried to privately ask the valet for her car, but Jackson got up off the couch and walked over to her. Tiffany hid her face, still crying.
“Nah, sit down, have a listen. My dad’s just here screaming about how Tiffany needs to support my—can you believe this?—my fighting aspirations if she wants to keep dating me. Isn’t that so great of him, to just read my mind and act on my behalf?” Lila wasn’t sure what to do. “Thank god I’ve got a dad who’ll do what’s right for me, even if I and the people who really care about me don’t want to do it, right? That’s real parenting right there.” The valet ushered Lila inside by closing the door behind her, forcing her to step into the foyer.
Lyle walked over from the living room to the foot of the stairs. “Maybe Lila’ll talk some sense into you two, eh girl?” He looked at her. Something about the way Lyle was watching Lila tonight made her very uncomfortable. “She’s a smart girl, got a good head on her shoulders. You watch. She’ll tell you you can’t give up fighting just because your idiot girlfriend thinks it’s—oooh—dangerous.” He started up the stairs. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, children,” he said the word with particular vehemence, “Daddy’s got some work to do.” Tiffany sobbed harder from the couch, and Jackson left Lila to go to her.
Lila was stunned. After a moment, she too walked over into the living room, watching Jackson hold Tiffany.
“What happened?” she asked quietly.
“Wanted to fight me extra this weekend, make some money,” Jackson spat the last clause, “and he just couldn’t wait until Tiffany’d gone to talk about it, had to talk about it right now.”
Tiffany finally looked up from Jackson’s shoulder, eyes puffy, mascara running. Lila’s heart ached for her. “It’s all my fault, I’m so sorry, Jackson.” He shushed her.
> “Tiffany, baby, you didn’t do anything,” he said, looking deeply into her eyes. Lila felt something like a pang of jealousy at watching this scene—they cared about each other so intensely. She didn’t know if she’d ever have that with another person. “My dad’s a fucking asshole. All he cares about is work, work, business, money. That’s all I am to him. You?” He smoothed her hair out of her face. “You love me, Tiffany. Do you know what the fuck that means to me?” Lila started to get a little choked up. Jackson noticed. “Sorry, we’re being so gross right now.” Lila wacked his arm, letting him know it was okay. “Anyway, I’m just so fed up with him, tonight I wouldn’t back down. I said maybe I wouldn’t fight anymore period, and that really got him riled up.”
“Where’s your mom?” Lila asked. She thought maybe, if Cassandra had been around, she’d have been able to control the situation.
“Taking care of something at the club. Whatever, she’d just have taken his side anyway.”
“What are you two going to do, just stay here?” Lila asked. It was late, she should get home. Jackson scoffed.
“No fucking way. Actually, would you mind dropping us off at Tiffany’s place?”
“Of course not. You want to go now?”
“Yeah. Babe, ready to go?” Jackson pulled Tiffany away from him to look at her. She dried her face off and wiped her fingers under her eyes, sniffling.
“Yeah, I’m ready. Let’s get out of here.” She grabbed Jackson’s face and kissed him, gentle and slow. “I love you, Jackson,” she said quietly.
“I love you too, Tiff.” He stood up, helping her off the couch. “Thanks, Lila.” He pulled her into a big, tight hug, which Lila returned.
“No problem. Do you need to, like, tell him you’re leaving?”