I look into Link’s eyes and see a maelstrom of emotions. Ache, regret, torture, all churning, competing for his attention. And pain, such deep, profound pain. Jesus, what this man must be going through after reliving that story.
I wish I could help him, guide him back to earth slowly after all that. An idea pops into my mind, but I laugh it off. But that look in Link’s eyes keeps bringing it back until I can’t ignore it. Sure, it’s utterly insane, but it’s bound to work. I have nothing to lose but my dignity.
Releasing his hand, I say, “I know what you need right now.”
I stand and unsnap my jeans. Before Link can even wrap his brain around what he’s seeing, I’ve got my pants to my ankles and am struggling to work my sneakers through them.
“Raven, what the fuck…”
“Shhh!” I hiss, placing a finger vertically over my lips. “No talking. You just watch.”
I get one leg freed and begin working on the other. Jimmy has taken notice and is watching, but I don’t care. This is about Link.
“You are one crazy chick,” Link says as I raise up, holding my jeans to the side in my left hand.
“Better?” I drop the jeans on the floor and do a turn to show him my butt.
“Better than what? You’re insane.”
I put my hands on his thighs and lean toward him.
“Sometimes a break from sanity can be fun.”
I jump up and throw my arms around him, pulling myself against him for a legitimate, heartfelt hug. Eventually he hugs me back. When we break, I sit on my stool and finish off my drink. I’ve only had two, but could sure use a third for courage.
“Okay, let’s talk about me now,” I say with a giggle, the leather barstool cool against the backs of my thighs. I hadn’t thought about the reality of taking off my pants in a bar, but as I sit here now, I have to say it’s kind of fun. I look around the bar and see that four guys are shooting pool and four more people occupy a table. That’s it. And not a one of them is looking our way.
“Not until you put your clothes back on. You’re going to cause a riot with that hot body of yours.”
Then I see Jimmy, standing behind the bar with a grin.
“Jimmy, are you at all bothered by this?”
He laughs and shakes his head. “Not even a little.”
I turn toward the others in the bar.
“Hey!” I shout, and everyone looks over. “Do you guys have a problem with me drinking in my underwear?”
Everyone looks up and laughs, trying to see if I actually am. One long-haired biker type shouts, “Problem? Hell, we just might join you!”
I turn back at Link and grin evilly. “See? Nobody gives a shit.”
Link looks into my eyes and half-smiles. “Isn’t there anything you’re afraid of?”
“Nope,” I say. “I’ve always been the one who took the dares nobody else would touch.”
“I certainly believe that,” he says, and I catch him looking at my legs. “Love those tattoos. I’ve missed them.”
It’s the closest he’s come to saying he misses my presence in his life. I’ll take it.
Link looks at his phone. “Holy shit, we’ve been here three hours. I’ve abused your good will enough for one night. If we’re going to be drinking buddies, I’ll have to have to learn to pace my soul-baring. And you’ll have to learn to keep your clothes on.”
“Are we?” I ask. “Going to be drinking buddies?”
“If you think you can handle me.”
I smile as Link stands and tosses a couple of twenties on the bar. He then bends to plant a soft kiss on the top of my forehead. His lips are warm on my skin and he smells like everything masculine in the world.
“Put your pants on, Raven. I’m driving you home. You’re obviously too drunk to drive.”
“I’m not drunk,” I say. “And I didn’t bring my car anyway. I’m good, I’ll just Uber.”
“Nonsense. It’s the least I can do after what I just subjected you to.”
I grab him by both biceps and look him in the eye.
“Stop that. You didn’t subject me to anything. I asked you a question and you answered it honestly. That’s what friends do.”
“If you say so,” he replies. “Next time you can tell me your horror stories and I’ll just listen.”
“It’s a deal. And seriously, I’ll get an Uber. No point in you going out of your way.”
“Shut up and get dressed.”
Link’s command reminds me of what he’s like in bed, and the memory gives me a small thrill. He watches shamelessly as I put my pants back on. Then again, so does every guy in the bar. When I’m done, Link leads me out the back door to his bike in the little parking lot. I get a shiver when I see the alley and remember the blowjob I gave him here.
“I’ve gotta get you home before you puke.”
“I only had two drinks. I’m practically sober,” I protest.
“Yeah, so sober that you got half naked in a bar.”
“But the naked half was wearing panties.”
Link laughs, then sets his helmet on the bike seat, then turns to me and puts his big arms around me, looking down into my eyes.
“Hey, thanks for meeting me today. We both know I deserved to be told to fuck off. You are a true friend.”
“Did it help? Do you feel any better now?”
“Well, your little strip show in there certainly brightened my mood.”
“Hey, it was your idea.” I smile at his baffled expression.
“Bullshit. You can’t blame your exhibitionist streak on me.”
“The day you came in for your tattoo, you told me if I took off my pants, it would distract you from your pain.”
It takes a second or two for him to connect the dots, then his jaw drops, his mouth agape.
“You’re fucking kidding me.”
I grin and shake my head. When he fully comprehends that’s why I did such a crazy thing, the look of gratitude on his face is heart-melting.
Something comes over me out of the blue and I grab him by the neck and pull his mouth to mine. The next thing I know, we are tongue-locked in a scorching kiss that makes all our other amazing kisses seem like beginner’s versions.
Time stands still, or rather lurches ahead in stops and starts. His hands are in my shirt, roughly handling my tits. I feel his erection through his jeans. He spins me around and undoes my pants, yanking them down without asking, and pushing my upper body forward onto the hood of the bright red Mustang parked next to his bike. My jeans fall to my ankles as I hear him working his belt. Then his thick cock pushes into me, and despite any agreements and against my better judgment, we are fucking. In the parking lot.
It doesn’t last long. Three, maybe four minutes. Link pounds me hard the entire time, and I encourage him vocally. This is for him, to let him get those raw emotions out of his system. I have never in my life been fucked this hard, and it’s as thrilling as it is confusing. Link continues to hammer away until I hear him moan once, then twice, then he groans loudly as I feel the warmth of him erupting inside me.
His thrusts slow, but he remains inside me. He lifts the bottom of my T-shirt up and he plants kisses on my naked back as his cock begins to soften. Finally, he slips out of me and I stand, then turn to pull my pants back up.
“What is it about this fucking parking lot?” Link says, legitimate wonder in his voice.
I don’t respond. My brain is rattled and I can still feel him inside me.
“You broke our agreement,” he says.
“And you damn near broke my pussy.”
“Do you wanna stop?”
“No,” I say without hesitation.
“Your place?” he asks, handing me the helmet.
“Yes.” I put it on and hear my muffled voice as I say, “Hurry.”
23
Link
Jesus, this chick has really gotten into my head.
I’m staring at the ceiling in her bedroom. Raven is next to me, sleep
ing soundly on her side with an arm draped halfway over my torso, snoring softly. Almost delicately, in fact. We’re both naked, and both lying atop the covers.
She passed out half an hour ago, just minutes after we concluded a marathon fucking session by her climbing on top of me and riding my cock to what seemed like an earth-shattering orgasm. I love watching her like that, on top of me, aggressively fucking me for her own selfish pleasure. She does all the work, and I just play with her tits and say filthy things until she explodes.
We were supposed to be meeting as friends, and we even agreed to keep it that way. She practically begged me to open up to her, and I did, telling her way more than I planned to. I guess I felt she’s a good listener, or maybe I was like a volcano, ready to blow if the pressure wasn’t released. Regardless, I told her fucking everything, the first time I’d shared the story of Mom’s murder to anyone as an adult. Next thing I know, I’m looking at her adorable panty-clad ass in the bar.
The parking lot thing was an accident. It just happened. I was already half erect from her little stunt in the bar, and when she kissed me I just fucking lost it and the damn burst open. We fucked right there in the parking lot, then I was inside of her again in minutes after we got to her house, and pretty much stayed there until that final orgasm knocked her out.
I had purposely refrained from bringing condoms with me to Firewater, as a mental reminder that we weren’t meeting for that purpose. Luckily, Raven had some, because we used a bunch of them.
Her hand moves slightly on my belly. I turn and look at her face, just a foot away from mine, and I’m surprised by the sense of tenderness that comes over me. Surprised because that’s one sensation, one emotion, I never feel when I’m with a chick. With the light shining onto the bed from the living room for illumination, I study her face carefully. Raven is such a beautiful girl. I see a flawless ear with her black hair tucked behind it. Her nose is cute as can be, and those lips I’m looking at are full and sexy. And now I know what dirty, mind-blowing things that mouth is capable of.
My gaze moves down her body, over her collarbone to her breasts. These luscious tits of hers, with those ridiculously responsive nipples—I might miss them the most. I look at her tattoos, at the red devil that starts between her tits and runs down to her belly, his pointed tail curving down to just above her smooth pussy. My eyes move downward, and I see the large, intricate mandalas inked over both thighs. Her tattoo collection is every bit as amazing as she is. Even her feet and toes are sexy. Everything about this woman is as perfect as can be. If there was ever a woman with a body built for fucking, this is her.
I probably spend fifteen minutes looking over Raven’s phenomenal figure, memorizing every line, every curve. When I finally return to her face and see those lips again, and that angelic expression, the emotion I feel is so new to me, and so overpowering, that I know immediately what it is, without question. I allow myself to experience it for a minute or two, then I reach my opposite arm across my body and very gently touch her one last time, running a finger softly from her neck downward, over the curve of her breast. When she stirs, I use that opportunity to slide out from under her arm.
I take a long look at that gorgeous naked form, sad that this is the last time I’ll see it.
Then I quietly locate my clothes and get dressed while Raven’s black and white cats watch me from a distance. I find a grocery list paper pad and a pen in the kitchen, and hastily jot down a note.
We failed our big test tonight. Of course it was amazing, but that’s beside the point. Actually, that is the point. Friendship won’t work for us because the temptation for incredible sex will always be impossible to resist. And you already know a relationship is out of the question.
We shouldn’t see each other for a while. I need some time to think about all this.
Link
P.S. Yeah, I’m an asshole.
I leave the note on the kitchen counter and slip quietly out the door, then push my bike down the street a half block before I start it.
The cool air feels good and helps with the melancholy. Tonight, Raven and I proved that staying friends is impossible. I’m crazy about her, but nothing has changed and I can’t be in a romantic relationship. And trying to be friends somehow led us right back into a bed in a matter of hours. Obviously, that’s not going to work for us.
The sex was amazing again. It always is.
But it was definitely too intimate this time, no question. And that feeling that I experienced when I was looking at her in the bed cinched it.
She’ll hate me when she sees that note, but the attraction is way too strong and I have no choice but to be a dick about it until I figure things out.
Lucky for me, being a dick is the thing I do best.
24
Raven
I’ve got to give Link credit for one thing: He’s a man of his word.
It’s been three weeks since I woke up to an empty bed, with his scent still lingering on the linens. The note he left was disheartening and demoralizing, but it wasn’t really a surprise. I sent him a text that morning, telling him maybe we should get together and discuss this instead of running from it, but I got no response whatsoever—not a surprise, either.
A week later, I sent a similar text and followed it with a phone call, leaving a voicemail for him. Nothing but crickets.
I made a final attempt a few days ago, with similar results. Evidently, he needs a month or more of “time to think about all this.”
That’s a shame, because I can’t wait for him to catch up to me. I completely understand if he’s emotionally stunted because of his horrid childhood, but I have my own life to deal with.
For the last three weeks, I’ve been having an ongoing conversation with Link in my head, giving him the reasons why I think we should at least explore the possibility of being an actual couple, or at a minimum start dating. I keep flashing back to the extraordinary intimacy of him finally opening up to me at Firewater. In many ways, that brave baring of his soul was better than the sex that followed, and the sex was unreal.
The more I think about it, the more his decision to retreat again upsets me. In my mind, that night, from our intimate talk to everything that occurred afterward, only proved that we have what it takes for a solid relationship. Furthermore, we’d be stupid not to pursue it.
And yet, here I am, alone once more and waking each morning hoping that this will be the day I finally hear from him. Then again, maybe he’s gone for good and is just too chicken shit to tell me.
Over the last few days, the emotional and mental stress has started to take a physical toll on me, and it seems to be getting worse. I’m so wound up, I can barely eat and have a constantly queasy stomach. I’m a total wreck, with huge emotional swings every time he pops into my brain for a visit. This internal tumult has even begun to affect my work, which has always been my refuge from life problems.
Unlike the last time, this time I confided in Theo about what’s going on between me and Link. I had to talk to someone because I’d go nuts otherwise. He’s been a true friend and listened without any harsh judgments. The last thing I need right now is an “I told you so.”
So, tonight I find myself fighting insomnia, tussling with my pillow while I wrestle with thoughts of this mess I’m in. As I twist and turn, I have an epiphany. I realize with perfect clarity that Theo was right.
Link is truly damaged goods.
The situation is hopeless and always will be. What’s happened between us since the day I met him is what a relationship with him would entail, assuming I could somehow convince him to give it a shot.
The elation I feel when things are clicking between us could never overcome the misery when things are not.
I wake up the next day on what seems like a normal Sunday morning. The shop’s closed today, so I have the day off to do whatever I want. I lie in bed for a few minutes, thinking. It’s a brand new day, and I’m going to use it to create some emotional distance from Link.
I’ve given him more than enough time to figure it out and the waiting is hurting me, mentally and physically.
Since he’s so unsure, I’ll make the decision myself: We’re done, for good.
I’m moving on, effective immediately.
Encouraged by the resolve I feel, I bounce out of bed, feed the cats, and actually whistle as I crack open a couple of eggs to scramble.
That’s the exact moment that everything starts to fall apart.
By noon I’m a fucking mess, bawling my eyes out. My whole world is collapsing on me and it’s finally clear why.
I have to talk to Link.
I leave fresh texts and voicemails, but once again hear nothing.
Suddenly desperate, I think about driving to his house. Even if I could find the right house, the thought that he might not answer my knock pains me. I couldn’t know if he was actually away, or just didn’t even want to give me the courtesy of opening the door.
For some reason, I get the crazy idea of trying to reach him through one of his friends. Could that even work? Could I call upon his inner circle to compel him to reach out to me? Or would they think I’m just some crazy jilted bitch?
I won’t know unless I try, and right now, it’s my only hope.
Drake Manning and Marcus Jennings are out of the question, because it would be next to impossible to contact either. That Mason guy, though, Link said he and his wife own Leviathan Talent.
I Google the number and dial it, unsure of exactly what I’ll say if I can get Mason on the line. The point is moot because I get a recording. Of course, it’s Sunday.
My despair is growing rapidly, then I recall that Drake’s fiancée is a journalist. I’m really reaching here. I don’t recall her name or who she works for, so I call Theo, the best Internet researcher I know.
“Hey, what’s up?”
“I need your mad sleuthing skills. I’m trying to get in touch with Drake Manning.”
“Impossible.”
Hollywood Bad Boys Club, Book 4: Link Page 17