by Nicola Rose
My ass is firmly rooted to the bed.
“Now!” he barks, taking two steps forward.
The blue in his eyes seems to shift colour as they bear down angrily upon me. I leap to my feet and he casually approaches, whistling a soft melody.
“Better,” he says gently. Bringing the gun up to my temple, he traces it down my cheek, along my lips.
“Take off your panties, then my shirt,” he commands.
I falter only for a second before following his orders. He’s massive. All hard edges and firm muscles, inked along his arms and the top of his chest, joining up in one large tattoo. Black tribal designs, swirling and enveloping his taut body. The angular lines, the blackness of them against his pale skin – it draws me in, making me want to lick them.
“Go ahead.”
I regard him in confusion and he nods down to his broad chest. I carefully inch forward and plant a kiss right in the centre of his pecs, on the top edge of a tattoo. He sucks in a sharp breath as I trace my tongue along one of the black lines, all the way across, pausing momentarily to flick over a pierced nipple.
Grabbing my hair, he shoves me downwards. With his other hand he unbuttons his Wranglers and lets them fall. He isn’t wearing any boxers. His huge, hard cock springs out right into my face.
I try to pull back, but he tightens his grip and presses the gun barrel under my chin. “Open.”
I do as instructed and he slowly inserts the head of his cock into my mouth. My tongue instinctively darts forward to glide along the tip. He groans and pushes hard, right the way into my throat, thrusting in and out, holding my head in place. When I can’t breathe any longer he pulls out and leaves me sagging on the floor, gasping for air.
“Get up.” His voice deep and steady.
Wetness forms between my thighs. He pushes me face first into a wall, grabbing my hands and pinning them into the small of my back with just one of his. The back of my head is pressed forward, my cheek grinding into the plaster.
He speaks firmly into my ear, using his foot to spread my legs open. “Who is your master?”
I try to shake my head and I’m met with solid muscle, pinning me tight.
“Who?” he demands.
“You,” I say hoarsely, knees weak. My sweaty palms slip on the wall, trembling with anticipation.
“Say my name.”
“Alex.”
“Don’t ever forget that.”
Fingers brush along my wetness as he speaks. His other hand roams roughly up my body, grabbing hold of my tits and squeezing them one at a time. Then he spins me around so vigorously that the room wobbles, and throws me onto the bed.
Kneeling over me, he puts the gun against my nipple and it hardens instantly against the cold steel. I shudder as he circles it round the stiff peak, alternating between hard metal and the softness of his tongue.
I reach down to grab his hair, to run my hands through it, but he shrugs me off. Moving down the bed, he drags the gun along my stomach, right down in between my legs. He rubs it into my clit before taking the barrel and holding it to my opening.
I gasp and groan out for him to stop, but he’s already pushing it up inside me. Little by little it roams deeper into me. I’m so turned on it slides in with ease, but it’s too solid, too hard. He draws in and out slowly as I wriggle and writhe in pain and pleasure.
“Alex!” I scream when I can’t take any more.
He crawls back over me, pressing the gun to my parted lips. “Lick it. Taste yourself.”
I lick until he makes me stop, warm and sticky on my tongue, my eyes burning into his. He watches me with fascination.
“You’re not such a bad girl after all, darlin’. Turns out you’re a very good girl. Keep doing as you’re told and you and me will be just fine. Now on your knees.”
I eagerly position myself on all fours when suddenly a bright light fills the room…
I strained to see, looking around in panic, unable to comprehend where he’d gone. After blinking a few times it began to make sense. I was still in my motel room, wearing only my undies. No one was here.
The dream left me so horny that it took only a moment to finish myself off with my fingers. Despite being well and truly awake now, it felt so real. More like a delicious memory than a dream. Like his presence was here, permeating the air around me. I could still smell him, weirdly metallic, with a sporty bodywash fragrance.
It made a refreshing change to wake from a dream bathed in pleasure, rather than screaming out from the horrors of burning bodies. I lay there for some time, reliving the fantasy, savouring every erotic detail. I tried so hard to replace Alex with Zac, to relive the exact same encounter but with Zac as the starring role.
No matter how hard I tried it just wouldn’t come together like that. No sooner had I got Zac in my mind than he’d gone again and it was Alex’s smouldering gaze tearing through me.
Eventually I got it worked out by giving Zac a cameo, having him burst into the room and joining in the fun, the two of them taking me at the same time.
19
Jess
The warm fuzzies from the dream didn’t last long. The first eager rays of bright morning sun streamed through a gap in the drapes, and rather than basking in it, I found the light irritated me. Zac’s whole ‘party boys who had slipped into their own time zone’ story for their debauched lifestyle still didn’t sit right with me, but I was prepared to let it slide. At least, up until now I had been.
He might have been happy sleeping all day, but in my miserable mood I wanted to get out on my wheels. The fact that I no longer had my motorbike set my mood to near rage levels. I rolled over and buried my face into the pillow.
I was a failure. I came here with the intention of changing. That was supposed to mean choosing different paths, healthier ones. Yet here I sat, sulking and pining over a man who was wrong in every way. He would use me and hurt me, it was obvious. There was no way I could trust him. And as for his brother? Jesus, I didn’t even dare to allow myself to think about him, or what the warmth between my thighs meant every time I pictured him.
Instead, right then, my body felt numb. A gaping hole in my stomach, sucking the energy from me. I groaned as I pressed deeper into the pillow, ignoring the alarm clock. I knew this crash would come. I’d been riding a high and now it was time to hit reality. To accept that any idea of being with Zac was madness.
The alarm wouldn’t shut up. I lifted my head to yell at it, finding the pillow damp from tears that I didn’t even realise I was crying. I threw the pillow at the alarm, then got up and whacked it when the first attempt had failed to silence the beeping.
A message came through on my phone.
Anna: Men are like public toilets… they’re either taken, or full of shit
A small smile tugged at the sides of my mouth, before another text arrived, and another, a quick succession of pings.
Anna: Men are like lava lamps… fun to look at, but not very bright.
Anna: If a man speaks in the forest and there is no woman there to hear him… is he still wrong?
Anna: Men are like high heels… they’re easy to walk on, once you get the hang of it.
The last one made me snort. I could picture her dimpled laughter.
Anna: You smiling yet?
Jess: All your piss-taking, and you’re the psychic one after all?! How did you know I was lying here sulking? And yes, thank you, I feel much better.
Anna: Get your ass out of bed, then. Oh, and btw, I googled male celebrities that wear eyeliner. And they’re not all gay. AND they’re hot. Just sayin’
Jess: I wasn’t objecting to William’s eyeliner, merely pointing it out. You’re right, it’s hot. I think Zac wears it, too. His eyes always look so dark.
There was a longer pause this time before her reply came.
Anna: Men are like mascara… they usually run at the first sign of emotion (couldn’t think of one with eyeliner. Anyway - GET UP!)
I remained snuggled up
for a while longer and studied my jacket hanging over a chair, the Carnage Crew patch looking new and fresh.
A fresh start. A new life.
Chasing after an asshole guy might not be starting fresh, but neither was sinking into my usual pit of despair. The cycle needed breaking. No more lows, I’m stronger than that.
And so what if this man had issues. Was it okay for me to have them, but no one else? The attraction towards him felt more genuine than anything I’d ever felt before. It seemed like he understood me, like maybe he would accept me for what I was.
Maybe I wouldn’t need to do so much explaining with him, or so much hiding, running from the energy within me. When I was with him it felt right, like he could take my crazy and not fix it, but accept it. What if I let myself get swept along by that?
I reached for the nightstand drawer, knowing the meds were lurking there. I never took them, but they were there nonetheless. A thin shaft of light pierced the room and glinted off a key, catching my eye. I trudged over to the side table near the door. The key wasn’t mine. After standing puzzled for a while I opened the door and found my baby in the lot. Only it wasn’t him. This was the ‘S’ version of the Ducati Streetfighter – the same motorcycle but with higher spec. A giant red ribbon, tied in a bow, adorned the handlebars.
Cheeky son of a bitch. My grin spread wider and wider until my face couldn’t take any more.
The face splitting smile didn’t mean he was forgiven, but it went a long way toward it. I tried not to think about how eerie it was that he had been in the room while I was asleep to leave the key. Or to sulk that he hadn’t thought to sneak into my bed whilst there. I was asleep and vulnerable, (and having the most erotic dreams), what better chance to come and take advantage of me?
After showering in record speed I was out the door and tearing up the highway. I had half an hour before work so I headed straight off the island and rode hard. The bike was familiar but even quicker. I pushed as fast as it would go. I decided to call this new speed devil Anansi, after another mischievous and cunning deity.
The euphoria was golden, with dazzling heat beating down on my back. Buildings, water, trees, people, all flew past in a blur. It cleared out all the worry, irritation, anger; it all got swept out onto the asphalt behind me. By the time I got to the firehouse I was well and truly buzzing.
I walked in and greeted the guys, and found an off-putting quietness. No one had any jokes for me, they seemed to look at me with caution, avoiding any close encounters or chatter as we went about the morning duties.
Danny wasn’t around. Meat was the Deputy and clearly in charge for the day. By lunchtime he still hadn’t said more than five words to me. I sat down to eat, awkwardness making my shoulders hunch and ache.
“What’s going on?” I finally asked Meat.
“What do you mean?”
The other guys passed glances between each other and tried to act like they weren’t there.
“I mean, why are you all behaving like fucktards? Is it because of the fire last week? Because, I’m pretty messed up by that, too, but—”
“Have you seen the counsellor about that yet?” Meat interrupted.
“No, not yet. Have you?” I huffed, staring him down hard.
He shrugged in response. “I just thought, with your history, you might, you know… you might want to talk it through.”
“Fuck you! What do you know about my history? I’m a firefighter just the same as you. If I couldn’t deal with fire, I wouldn’t be here.”
“That’s not what—”
“No? So what did you mean?”
“Look, we’re all a little tense, OK? That fire was fucked up. And now, with the Chief, and you… with the Elwoods. I don’t know…” Meat pressed his lips, his head dipping.
“What about Danny?”
“He’s not here because of the broken ribs. After the incident with Alex.”
“Alex broke Danny’s ribs? Shit!” I pushed my food tray away, suddenly feeling like I was going to vomit.
Meat left the table and immediately issued us all with orders for the afternoon’s work, effectively cutting off any more conversation, and leaving me feeling like the shittiest friend ever.
Later that day, as the evening wore on and I settled in for downtime, I picked up my phone and sent Danny a message.
Jess: Why didn’t you tell me? Are you OK?
Danny: I’m fine. I’ll be back at work in no time.
Jess: I’m sorry.
Danny: Not your fault.
Jess: Who is he? Why does Alex get away with this? Is Zac the same?
Danny: Honestly, I’d love to tell you that Zac’s the same, to warn you away. I WILL still warn you away – he’s not good enough for you. But no, he’s not the same, I don’t think. I don’t know what they are. Except that you don’t want to cross them.
Jess: I can’t stay away from him. Not until I’ve figured out what he is. I have no idea if he’s right for me, but that’s why I need to find out, to know for sure, one way or the other.
Several minutes passed without any reply.
Jess: Sorry. I don’t know why I’m telling you this.
Danny: Just be careful, please. And come to me if you need me. Now get some sleep Firefighter. x
Jess: Thank you. x
I sent Anna an apology text, too. She’d been so good with cheering me up this morning, and I hadn’t even said sorry for that shit that had gone down. Lying back in my bed, I tried to read a book, but couldn’t stay focussed and kept re-reading the same paragraph over and over. Throwing it down, I curled up and attempted sleep instead.
What Alex had done to Danny was despicable. What he had done to me, taking my bike, was despicable. I should have reported it to the police, except I knew that he was right – it wouldn’t have done any good. These guys had their own rules. I either jump in and play the game, or I walk away now.
At some point sleep found me and I slept right through to the next day, because no emergencies came in overnight. I got on my bike and rode straight to the counsellor’s office on Port Isabel. I knew how these sessions worked. I gave out what they wanted to hear and sat attentively, listening to all their advice, nodding. I let a few tears out, mainly to show them that I was normal, and a little bit because I actually couldn’t stop them flowing when they started asking about the burning bodies.
Afterwards, I went round to some realtors and collected info on a bunch of apartments available for renting. I couldn’t stay in that grotty motel forever. Then I went back to the island, had dinner, showered, and rode to Zac’s.
“You think this gets you off the hook?” I asked, dropping the bike key into his hand.
“No. I owed you a motorcycle, so there it is.”
“So what are you going to do for my forgiveness then?”
“Something romantic for a change,” he smiled and my stomach did a stupid flip.
We passed through the house and I nodded at his friends along the way. Gang friends? Ridiculous.
He strolled out through double doors, along a wooden boardwalk, and down onto his own private beach. Of course he had his own beach. This man had everything.
The sun had just set over the ocean. Blazing red glowed along the horizon, turning to orange and yellow before fading into the deep blue.
The sand was warm and comforting as we sat down close together, arms touching, gazes locked. Shivers ran along my skin. There was a myriad of things I needed to say to him, but nothing came out. Try as I might I couldn’t find the power of speech when locked into that heated, tense stare.
I had the impression there were many things he wanted to say, too, like he was trying to tell me with his eyes alone. They lulled me into a sense of wonder, of needing and longing, whilst all the while a wisp of fear gathered somewhere within me.
I don’t know how much time passed with us sitting that way, but when we lay down in the sand the stars were out overhead. It was a beautiful clear night, the sky awash with thousan
ds of bright specks of light. I picked out a constellation and strained to see if a shooting star might pass.
His hand found mine, locking our fingers together. I allowed my thumb to absently stroke along his. It might have been the calmest and most relaxed that we’d been in each other’s company.
That was until a small spray of sand flew into my face. A scurrying and scuttling right next to my ear sent me jumping back up, swatting at myself. More shuffling noise, and sand hit my bare foot. I hopped around on the spot, shuddering and trying to wipe down anything that might have crawled onto me.
He laughed, loud and free, ringing out into the night and filling my heart.
“Stop flapping,” he said through more laughter. “It’s time.”
He got down on his hands and knees and beckoned for me to join him, peering into the sand in darkness, nothing but the moon and stars to light us.
The scratching continued, my eyes adjusted, and I saw there was movement all along the beach.
“Fuck me!” I gasped, continuing to hop around.
“Ssshhhhh,” he soothed, pulling my hand with such gentle strength that I had no choice but to kneel next to him.
There, emerging from the ground in a flurry of sand and activity, was a tiny turtle. My hand went to my mouth in surprise.
“They’re Kemp’s Ridley sea turtles, the world’s most endangered species,” he smiled serenely as he watched hundreds of little vulnerable creatures emerge and struggle down the sand towards the vast awaiting ocean. One of those near us seemed to be struggling to break free from his egg. Zac lifted him tenderly and peeled back the shell before placing him down with the others.
“It’s called a frenzy,” he said. “When the hatchlings emerge all at once and scuttle to the shore. They use the moon for navigation. It’s fascinating how nature works like that.”
Could this man get any more confusing? Feral-looking psycho one minute, nature-loving turtle-rescuer the next? Perhaps he was the perfect ratio of bad boy to good boy?
“But look at me,” he said suddenly. “I’m looking after my turtles and have failed to look after you. I haven’t even offered you a drink or food yet. I forget, you know? Come with me.”