Alone on Earth

by Susan Fanetti

  Yep. Dork.

  She divested herself of her underwear and stepped into the tepid water. He swam up and grabbed her, pulling her under and kissing her. When they broke the surface, he had her wrapped around him, and she could feel his swollen cock pressing temptingly against her core. Feeling bewitched by happiness, she shifted so that his tip was poised to come into her and then flexed downward, drawing him in. He grunted and thrust, and then he was inside her, deep.

  And bare.

  She hadn’t thought. She’d just felt. And he was there, and he felt amazing, so much hotter than he felt wrapped in lubed latex. She flexed again, gasping at the richness of the pleasure.

  He grunted again, and she could feel the restraint thrumming through his body.

  “Wait, babe. Hold up.” His voice sounded gruff and tight. In the shimmery glow of the pool lights, she could see the heat in his eyes, their lashes beaded with pool water.

  “I know. I don’t want to stop.”

  “Riley. What are you saying?”

  “I don’t know. I just don’t want to stop.” She flexed again, and with yet another grunt, he matched her with a thrust of his own.

  “What if—?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe that wouldn’t be so bad. Would it?”

  He stared hard at her, searching her eyes. She stared back and let him. She wasn’t sure what she was doing or why she was doing it—if something happened, it would change everything about her life, and she hadn’t given this a moment’s thought—but she was content with that, with whatever might happen. Wrapped around him in the middle of their pool, almost floating, bobbing slightly with the water, she waited to see what he would say.

  “I don’t know. But I don’t want to stop, either.” He kissed her fiercely and his hands moved down to clutch her ass, and then they began to move in earnest.

  And it was the most astonishing feeling Riley had ever known. The hot slide of his skin inside her, the contrasting chill of the water, the way their buoyancy made for a whole new kind of fluid motion—it was only a few minutes before Riley had to tear her mouth from his so that she could take in a huge whoop of air, and then she screamed his name into the black heavens.

  Then he walked them, still hard and thrusting gently, up and out of the pool, and laid her on one of the lounge chairs. She vaguely noted the still slightly warm feel of his t-shirt under her. He pulled her legs up into his arms, holding them aloft, and pounded into her until she was screaming through another climax. This time, he followed her, shouting, “God, babe! Oh, yeah!”

  And then he pulled out with a sudden backward jerk, and, with a groan, he came onto his t-shirt. His breath rasping heavily, he lifted her and resettled so that he was on the chaise and she was on him. There was a chenille throw folded on the table next to the chaise, and he pulled it over them. And then, finally, they relaxed.

  Lying on his warm, solid body, she was content, but a little confused. She twisted her fingers into the chain around his neck, thinking. Finally, she asked.

  “Why’d you pull out?”

  Still panting, he murmured, “We should think about that. Talk about it. Yeah?”

  He was right. “Yeah.”

  “We just need to think some, make sure. But I think I’d like it.”

  “Me, too.”

  He held her close, and they watched the world from their high perch.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Bart’s personal phone, still with a Missouri number, chimed in his pocket. He leaned back from his laptop and pulled it out with a grin, figuring it was Riley.

  It wasn’t, but he only grinned wider as he answered.

  “Hey, asshole. What’s going on?”

  Havoc laughed. “B-man. You good?”

  “Not bad. You?”

  “Got news. ‘Bout Isaac.”

  Havoc’s voice sounded tight, and Bart’s grin left. He sat forward. Last he heard, when he’d last talked to Havoc a couple of weeks ago, Isaac was home, but there hadn’t been any more improvement. He was in a wheelchair, and the odds of him getting back use of his legs were fading fast.

  “Trouble?”

  “No, man. I don’t know the details or the lingo or whatever, but Show says his last test, both feet twitched. They’re not saying it means anything, but they checked him back in for intensive therapy, so that’s gotta be good, right?”

  Bart blinked back the tears that had suddenly threatened, borne by the same emotion he heard constraining his friend’s voice. “Yeah! Yeah, that’s great. How’s Lilli doing?”

  “You know Lilli. She likes a fight. Fuckin’ drill sergeant or some shit. Isaac’ll get his legs under him just so he can get her off his back.”

  Bart laughed. Lilli liked a project. Well, she sure had one. Then emotion was on him again. It wasn’t a project she should have to work, though. They’d been through the shit enough already. “How’s everybody else? Good?”

  “Yeah, yeah. It’s quiet around here these days. Everything’s cool with the club. Scorps are—” He stopped, and Bart knew he was recalling that Bart was a Scorpion now. He hated that his best friend felt he had to be careful what he said.

  “It’s okay, man. We’re good.”

  After another beat, Havoc said, “Scorps are off our back. It’s all good. And Tuck’s is back like it should be. Fights every night, near ‘bout.” The smile in his voice was almost visible.

  “How’d you work that?”

  “Got the ‘wine bar’”—the hoity-toity accent Havoc used made it clear what he thought about it—“up and running. Valhalla Vin. Looks like it might make decent bank, too. Ain’t you keeping track of our shit? I figured you’d know all, the Great Bartini.”

  Once the actors were done with the real Signal Bend, the press had been, too. He was still keeping tabs on media traffic, but that focused his attention on L.A. Rick had the east coast. When the movie came out, they expected another uptick of interest in the Horde, but they’d catch it before it went far. And the Horde were laying low, regrouping from this latest series of setbacks. So he didn’t need to have his nose far into their business.

  Still, at first, he had been keeping track, mainly out of homesickness, but also to make sure that what he’d given up had been for a damn good reason. But then the Scorps kept him hopping, in the bike shop, on runs, doing their own intel. And he had Riley. After several weeks, he hadn’t been pining for Signal Bend the same way anymore. And now, four months since he’d left, he felt at home. He still missed the fuck out of his brothers, and he still needed a few minutes to get his head back together after each time he talked to Havoc, but he was okay in L.A. Finding his way. Happy.

  And he’d made his place in the Scorpions. He stayed back as far as he could from the heavy shit, and they mostly let him. He was becoming a famous face, linked as he was to Riley, and as such, there were some outlaw runs they just didn’t want him on. Fine with him.

  “Been busy.”

  “Yeah—Dom said they’re doing a reality show in your clubhouse? What the fuck with that?”

  “L.A., man. What can I say?” That show was another thing giving him some distance from the drugs and guns—the company producing it wanted to capitalize on Bart’s familiarity, and they wanted him featured, with a couple of the prettier Scorps—and Fat Jack, the VP, who was a salty, randy old fuck and guaranteed to bring humor and controversy to the proceedings. Bart had his doubts about whether the producers really knew what they were getting themselves into, but he had his hand on the lid, so the Scorps would be okay.

  “How’s your girl—or, sorry, old lady? Shit. You still okay living with a chick?”

  “Yeah, brother. Great with it. You should try it out.”

  “Not gonna happen. Never gonna happen. I like my chicks carry out.”

  “Whatever, man. You’re missing out, all I’m sayin’.”

  ~oOo~

  The driver opened the limo door, to a constant strobe of flashes. As Bart got out of the car, the strobe effect ea
sed slightly—he wasn’t who they wanted to see. Then he leaned in and held out his hand. Riley took it, and stepped a dainty, sparkly foot, and then the bottom of a satiny, sparkly emerald green dress, out of the limo, and the flashes went insane. When she stood, looking small and delicate, and yet regal, in this gorgeous strapless dress, her hair rolled up elegantly, and about a million dollars in diamonds resting around her slender neck, the world went thick with din—the flashes, the screams from people on risers behind barriers across the street, the shouts of the fucking paparazzi—damn, Bart hated those motherfuckers, every one of them—yelling her name: “Riley! Over here!” “Here, Riley!” “Show us your back, Riley!” “Over your shoulder—hey! Over your shoulder! Hey!”

  Like they knew her. He supposed they did, in a way. Like she owed them. She most certainly did not.

  Bart was nearly blind from the strobe effect of the constant cameras, and his protective instinct was working overtime, desperate to get her out of this mania. He knew how she hated it. She was squeezing his hand until it was numb. But she was smiling beautifully, and she granted every request she heard, letting them move her with their shouts.

  It took them fifteen minutes to move half a block toward the main entrance of the Dolby Theatre. And then they were in a line of famous people in fancy clothes—he pulled at the collar of his black dress shirt and the black silk tie currently strangling him—but the cameras and din had backed off a little, as if they’d made a barrier around the door. Maybe they had.

  They were at the Oscars.

  His life was nothing like he’d ever thought it would be.

  Riley wasn’t nominated for anything, and Signal Bend, though people were talking about it as probable Oscar bait, wouldn’t be released until the end of the year, for the next award season. But publicity for it was already underway, and that meant the stars showing up on red carpets. She’d told him he didn’t have to go, but there was no fucking way he was going to let her run this gamut she hated on her own. Her days of withstanding that shit were done. She was not alone in the crowd. Not anymore.

  So here he was, being blinded by flashing lights and strangled by his all-black tuxedo getup, his hand gone numb in Riley’s death grip. But she was beautiful. God, so fucking beautiful, and every time he saw his initial on her shoulder, knowing that many of these pictures people everywhere were taking would show it, he felt a little thrill of elation.

  Somebody with a microphone tried to pull her away from him, and her grip clamped down even harder. He followed, keeping hold. Then a guy next to the woman with the mic tried to physically separate their hands, actually putting his hands around their wrists, and Bart went chest to chest with him, ready to go. There was a hush that rippled away from them, with a range of about ten feet. Everybody was waiting to see if he’d throw a punch.

  “Bart, no!” Riley hissed, under her breath.

  He heard her, but he didn’t move. He stared until the guy stepped back. After a pause, when time seemed static, everything went back to normal, and the woman with the mic asked Riley a few insipid questions and sent them on their way.

  If he was going to walk red carpets with her, he was going to have to figure out where the line was between supportive and overprotective. But he didn’t give a shit how many cameras were around. Somebody who tried to separate Riley from him was going to get put down.

  ~oOo~

  “Let’s skip the party. That okay with you?”

  They were back in the limo, waiting in a long line of limos to head away from the theater. She was supposed to stop and change into another gown, and they were supposed to go to a party thrown by a big magazine. But Riley had her sparkly silver high heels off, and her legs draped in their emerald satin over his legs, and he was rubbing her little feet. He’d already relieved himself of that fucking tie and had his shirt open at the throat.

  “Great with me. Home?”

  “No. I have a better idea. She scooted up and knocked on the glass separating them from the driver. It slid open. “Hey, Joe. You know where I want to go?”

  Bart watched something pass between the big driver and Riley as they looked at each other in the rear view.

  The driver smiled. “I do. Want to make any stops first?”

  She peered through the glass of the tiny fridge. “There champagne in here? Yep. No, Joe. We’re good. Just take us away!”

  “You got it.”

  “You’re the best!”

  As Joe closed the divider, Riley came back and resumed her position over his lap.

  “Where we goin’?”

  She gave him a saucy grin. “My secret place. Which is, you know, a secret. You’ll have to wait.”

  “Gonna take long to get there?”

  She understood why he was asking right away, and her grin got positively devilish. “Long enough.”

  “Excellent.” They had decided that they both wanted a family, but they wanted to wait a little first. Riley had gotten on birth control, hallelujah. Unwrapped sex had been a fucking revelation.

  He slid his hand up her dress to rest on her thigh, and he saw the divider go dark. Good man, Joe. Good man. He slid his hand up until he met the silk barrier of her panties. Her eyes flared, and she let her outside leg drop off his lap, opening herself to his touch.

  ~oOo~

  Her secret place turned out to be a little stretch of beach near Malibu. The rocks were clustered to make something like a sheltered cove. Joe pulled the limo over, and Riley grabbed the champagne and dashed out of the car and across the Pacific Coast Highway, her dress wafting out behind her, before Bart could recover from the stupendous head she’d just given him and get his cock put away and his pants closed.

  “Riley! Shit!” He chased after her, but she was already halfway across the beach, pulling her hair loose from its pins as she went. Was she going to swim in her shockingly expensive borrowed dress? With a nauseatingly expensive borrowed necklace around her throat? “RILEY!”

  She stopped at the tide line, letting the washing surf wet the bottom of her dress. She was grinning hugely and struggling to open the bottle of Cristal. She got to the cork but couldn’t pop it. When he finally reached her, still in his fancy, painfully uncomfortable dress shoes, she held it out to him.

  “I can’t get this out!”

  Smiling, he took the bottle. He didn’t know if she’d ever been more beautiful, her golden hair loose and wild, blowing in the sea breeze, her eyes sparkling in the moonlight like the diamonds at her throat, her skin flushed and her chest heaving. And she looked so perfectly happy.

  “Marry me, Riley Chase.”

  She’d been playing a little in the water, taking little dance steps in the foamy surf. She stopped and looked up at him. Then she nodded. “Yep. Totally. I will totally marry you, Bart Elstad. And make little blonde babies.”

  He popped the cork. They each took a drink, and then he kissed her, the champagne lingering in their mouths.

  ~oOo~

  They sat on the rocks for a long time, drinking champagne and watching the tide come in. He understood why this place was her secret place. For all the glitter and clamor of Los Angeles, here one could imagine that there was nothing. Especially in the dark. The highway was at a distance behind them, and the traffic at that hour was almost nonexistent. When Bart looked back, he saw only black. He knew Joe was waiting for them, but the black limousine had faded into the dark.

  Even the Pacific, from this sheltered little vantage, seemed utterly empty. He knew that if he swam out even ten feet, he’d see the lights and bustle of the civilized world. He could detect the faint glow of that world against the tall rocks at their side. But here, in this quiet, small space, he and Riley were the only people in the world. He was the only person in the world for her, and she was for him. They didn’t have to share each other, their lives, with anyone else. No demands. No expectations. No disappointments. No pasts. No jealousies. They were alone, together.

  She was reclining against his chest, neste
d between his legs, her dress draped over them like a coverlet. He’d given her his tuxedo jacket to shield her bare shoulders from the chill. He felt a peace deep in his bones. When he’d left Signal Bend, he’d thought never to know peace again.

  He looked down at her. “Can this be our place now?” He asked quietly, knowing that she might think he was intruding on something that was only hers. So little of her life was only hers.

  She tipped her head up on his chest and smiled at him. “It already is.”

  THE END

  ~oOo~

  TITLES COMING SOON:

  IN DARK WOODS

  A Signal Bend Byway

  (Signal Bend Series 4.5)

  Isaac and Lilli face their greatest challenge yet.

  Release Date: 22 March 2014

  and

  ALL THE SKY

  The Signal Bend Series

  Book Five

  Havoc likes his chicks carry out. Then he meets Corinne.

  Tentative release date: 12 April 2014

  Find more information, including the Prologue and Chapter One

  of ALL THE SKY at:

  www.tfcpress.wordpress.com