Rough Rider

by Harley Fox

  “Hey,” he says. “Don’t be like that.”

  As though he can tell how I’m feeling without even looking at me. I sniff wetly and I’m angry at myself to hear it.

  “Can’t we see each other again?” I ask, my voice already on the verge of cracking.

  A moment of silence.

  “We’re too different,” he says. “You and me … we’re from different worlds.”

  “But I don’t like the world I’m from,” I say to him. “I don’t want to go back there.”

  “You have to. It would never work with you here.”

  Now tears are coming out of my eyes and I shut them, trying to make them go away. They just trail down my cheeks instead.

  “We can make it work,” I say in a low, cracked voice. “I don’t want this to end.”

  He’s silent again, even though I can still hear his heartbeat, can still feel him breathing. And then his voice, as low as can be:

  “Neither do I.”

  I exhale a breath and feel my mouth curve up into a smile. The saddest smile. When I lift my head to see Jake I know that I look terrible, but Jake is looking at me — he’s always looking at me — and though his expression is still unreadable he blinks and slowly lifts a hand and gently wipes the tears away from my face. And then I see his lips curve, ever so softly, up and into a smile.

  And it’s not one of those cocky smiles from when we first met, either. This is a real smile. One that reaches his eyes. One that brightens up his whole face. He looks so beautiful and more tears run down my cheeks. I can’t help it this time. He watches with that smile still on his face and then he leans his head forward, and I close my eyes and he kisses me.

  It’s like all our kisses before haven’t meant a thing. Jake’s lips, his body, his entire soul feels different. He feels … closer to me now. More open. Even in the way he moves his head and tongue. It’s slower, more deliberate. And I move along with him, the two of us taking our time, enjoying this moment for what it is.

  Jake’s fingers tighten on my arm for a moment before relaxing. His free hand finds my other arm and he turns in his seat. I do the same. His hand slides around my back and he pulls me closer to him. The blanket slides off me and onto the floor. I take a deep breath through my nose as his hard body presses against mine.

  I hear him breathing in long, slow breaths as we kiss. My hand slides down over his side, feeling his ribs and the hard muscles that line him beneath his t-shirt. Down to his stomach, I run my hand over those ripples. My fingers claw against him, pulling his t-shirt up at the bottom. I slide down further and there’s his bare skin. It gives me thrills, to feel his warmth and the tightness of him against my fingertips.

  Down below, in between my legs, heat glows and my insides start to stir. But for some reason it’s a deeper feeling this time. It feels like more to me than all the other times we had sex. And something in me tells me that Jake feels the exact same way. His breath comes through louder now and he’s holding onto me tight, pulling me harder against him. I shift in my seat and push myself forward, my breast pressing into his hard chest.

  Jake’s lips leave mine and he drops his head down to my neck. I tilt mine back and to the side as he kisses me, sucking on my skin, eliciting a gasp from my lips. My hand moves around on his stomach and keeps going down, down to where I know he wants me to go. And there, I can feel it inside his jeans: Jake’s cock, already hard, throbbing in my grasp. He moans for me as I feel him, grab onto his thickness, run over his length. He moves beneath my touch. It feels absolutely incredible.

  Jake suddenly grabs hold of me and picks me up, swinging me over and onto his lap. My legs spread apart as I straddle him, making my skirt ride up to my waist, bunching into a pile of fabric. Down below I feel his hardness press against my sex and I gasp as he pushes himself into me. I know that I’m already soaking wet. Jake’s hands still hold me as I begin to rub against him, grinding my body down onto his.

  With both of my hands free now I’m able to explore his body at my will. I grab onto his chest and Jake feels amazing, as he always does. One hand slides up to his neck and I trail my fingers along it. I reach the top of his head and run them through his hair. He pulls free from my neck only to return to my lips again and we lock together, our moans mingling in the air, my fingers holding him and Jake’s cock pushing into me as his body writhes beneath me on the couch.

  I want him inside of me. I reach down and find the top of his jeans, hurriedly undoing them, pulling his zipper down. My pussy is already aching for him to be inside. My clit throbs as I rub up against him.

  I slip my fingers inside of his jeans and there, I can feel him. The head of his cock is slippery with precum and a shiver runs down through my spine.

  I pull him out, all of him, and he stands up between my legs like a tower. Grabbing the bottom of my panties and pulling them to the side, I lift myself up and guide my man in. I have to suppress a moan as I feel his head rub against the opening of my pussy. But soon he parts my lips and I slide down, taking in him, sucking in a long gasp of air as I’m filled up completely.

  Jake’s grip tightens on my sides as I envelop him, and when I’ve taken in all that I can I begin to ride him, holding myself stable, moving up and down and fucking his gigantic cock.

  We continue kissing, my hands gripping Jake’s shoulders for support. I move up and down, pleasure running through me with every second. Jake feels wonderful inside of me. He gives me more pleasure than I could ever have imagined before. I feel his hands slide around to my back and he pulls me in closer, so my body is pressing down into him. My breasts push into his massive chest and I wrap my arms around him, supporting myself on my elbows. Now I’m the one tilting my head as we kiss and I keep riding him, taking as much as I can.

  Jake breaks the kiss away but tilts his forehead into mine as I hear him let out a moan. I open my eyes and see him looking up into me, our eyes connecting, our bodies in line as we make such passionate love on this couch. He holds onto me and it takes a moment before I realize that his breath is coming through in shudders. And that expression on his face … it’s no longer unreadable. Now there’s a hint of something else there … something that reminds me of passion … and something that reminds me of fear.

  And it dawns on me that this type of thing doesn’t happen to Jake every day. This is not the sex that he has with other women, and that what I’m seeing right now — and what Jake is experiencing, possibly for the first time in his life — is actually his own vulnerability.

  I keep looking at Jake and he keeps looking at me. I feel ourselves connecting in a much deeper, much more intense way. It’s as though our hearts have come together and we’re not just experiencing and enjoying each other’s bodies … we’re experiencing and enjoying each other’s souls.

  And when I blink my eyes I feel the warm wetness of tears as they run down my cheeks. But these are not tears of sadness. These are the tears of joy. Because I’ve never seen anything so beautiful as what I’m looking at right now, and I can tell Jake has never experienced anything so real, anything so intense as what we’re experiencing together.

  I can’t help myself. I lean down and kiss Jake, pressing my lips hard into his and feeling him kiss me hard back. And then I drop my head beside his and I wrap my arms around him and we hug. And for a moment Jake feels frozen, but then his body responds and he pulls me in tighter and we hug. And our bodies continue moving but it’s not just out of pleasure now, but something more … something that you only read about, or hear told in poetry, or by the lips of those who are in love.

  I keep moving up and down, taking him in, feeling him in me entirely. Jake holds me tight as he pushes up to meet me, matching my rhythm. It all feels so deep now, and so much more real. That pleasure builds up within me and with it comes so much emotion, and passion, and deep, eternal feeling.

  Jake’s breath comes through in shudders and I can hear them louder now. My own body keeps rising, building. I feel myself move faster, t
aking all of him, everything inside me now. He’s all the way inside me and I can feel every inch of it.

  I keep going, holding onto him tight. My passion builds and it builds, and I feel Jake building as well. It gets higher, and starts to bring us closer together. Everything, all of this, is all that matters to me now. I keep pushing, our passions guiding us along, until finally, finally …

  I hear myself cry out loud as my body explodes alongside Jake. I feel myself pulling him in further, taking as much as I can, as I continue riding, enveloping this man. He lets out a deep moan and a second later his seed explodes inside of my body. I gasp for breath, my orgasm still reeling, as my insides are flooded with his powerful, sweet warmth.

  We continue moving, riding this high, holding onto one another and never letting go. Our hearts beat as one. Our kiss is ever-sealing. And when it finally begins to abate and my body relaxes on top of Jake, I release my arms and feel myself shaking all over. My head comes around and I press my forehead to his again. And then I feel him lean up and kiss me. He kisses me and everything seems right in this world.

  We keep our hold on each other, our breathing coming in deep together, and when our kiss breaks off I’m still with him, still exactly where I was.

  “Jake,” I say, opening my eyes to look at him. He does the same and our eyes lock and I can feel him, deep inside of me, deep inside of my heart.

  I swallow, nervous. But I can’t stop myself now. This is right. I know this is right.

  “Jake,” I say, my voice coming through on a breath. “… I think I love you.”

  Even though the words are in a whisper, they sound enormous to my ears. And Jake just stares at me, that unreadable expression back on his face, and I watch him, waiting for his response, needing his response. His eyes never leave mine. Every second feels like eternity. And when his lips part I feel my breath catch inside my throat. It’s going to happen. Jake’s going to answer me.

  And he would have, of course, were it not for the dull yet piercing sound of shattering glass, and the sudden blare of Jake’s security alarm outside.

  Jake

  “Jake … I think I love you.”

  She looks at me with those incredible green eyes as her words reverberate in my ears.

  But I’m frozen. I stare back at her, not blinking, not able to blink. I feel my face take on its usual pallor as my heart races inside my chest, my arms still holding onto her, my cock still throbbing deep inside her body.

  She loves me, I think. Inside my head I roll the concept around. Try it on for size. Nobody’s ever been in love with me before. At least, nobody’s ever told me they love me. And I’ve never loved anyone back. I thought the idea was make-believe, like unicorns or the Tooth Fairy. Just something that people made up so they could feel better about themselves. Either that or it was a lie to get others to be closer, or to get them into bed, or to get them to say, “I do.”

  But she loves me. She loves me. Deep in my chest there’s this feeling that I can’t put words to. The same feeling that’s been swirling around, incubating, growing and taking form and shape, and all the while scaring me out of my mind. It’s something I’ve never experienced before, but is it the same thing that other people feel when they say those words to each other? Is it the same thing that Merryn is feeling right now?

  I part my lips. I know my brain’s not ready to speak yet, but my heart is. It hasn’t planned out the words. But I know what it’s going to say. What it’s going to tell Merryn using my lips, using my voice. For the first time in my life my heart, and not my cock, is going to be the one to do the talking.

  And I’m going to let it.

  I see her gasp the smallest of gasps, and I take a breath. But then a sound interrupts me. The sound of glass shattering, and an instant later, an alarm. I freeze, my heart’s words dying in my throat before they’ve even left my lips. The sound is coming from outside, and at first I think it’s a car alarm. But I’ve heard car alarms before, and this sounds more like … like what a security alarm would sound like …

  My eyes open wide and my stomach drops out of me.

  My shop, I think. They’re going after my shop.

  Merryn starts to say something but I grab onto her and swing her off of me, moving her as easily as a rag doll. She cries out with surprise but I have no time to deal with that. I stand up and take two long strides to the window, then look down.

  No.

  Two men sit on motorcycles outside of my shop. One of them is holding a bottle with a rag sticking out the end: a Molotov Cocktail. One of the windows to my garage has been broken in and I see flickering light from within. The one holding the cocktail is wearing a Bullets jacket; the other guy just has on a blue dress shirt and slacks.

  “Mother fucker,” I say as I wheel toward the bookshelf, grabbing a handful and pulling them out, scattering them all over the ground. There: hidden behind them is a gun and I grab it, then check the clip to make sure it’s still loaded. Those fuckers are going down.

  “Jake?” comes Merryn’s voice. I spin to look at her and her eyes are on the gun in my hand. She’s pushing herself back, away from me, and into the couch. “What’s going on?”

  I reach down and zip myself up.

  “Bullets,” I growl. “Burning down my shop.”

  I stride past Merryn, heading toward the stairs.

  “What?” she says as I pass her. “But … wait a minute, Jake!”

  I can’t wait, though. I fly down the stairs and burst open the front door, stepping out, bringing the gun up, pointing it right at them. The second Molotov cocktail has been lit.

  “Hey fuckers!” I yell, and their heads turn just as I fire.

  The shot leaves my gun and I see it hit the garage door behind them, making a dent in the metal. Both bikers jolt and hunch their shoulders. They stare at me as I keep the gun on them, but the one holding the cocktail turns his body to face me and starts to cock his arm back. He’s getting ready to throw.

  This time I take my time and aim true. The second I squeeze the trigger time slows down and the gun kicks back again, but I hold it in place. I feel the heat of the burning powder as the bullet flies out of the barrel and a moment later hits the guy in the wrist, just below the Molotov cocktail.

  Blood explodes outward and I see him cry out as his fingers fly open a moment before becoming limp. The bottle rolls out of his grasp and I watch it start to fall. My heart hammers as my eyes follow the bottle, even when the guy lifts his other hand to the wound, to check that it really happened. Blood pumps out of the hole in his wrist as his now-useless appendage flops over and calls it quits.

  Still that cocktail falls, and the tongue of flames from the burning rag follow. It goes down and down, about to reach the sidewalk, and then—

  DONK.

  The bottle lands without breaking and clatters as it rolls onto its side. My muscles relax for a moment, but my brain kicks back into gear. Because there’s smoke now filling the inside of my shop and the guy who didn’t just get shot — the one without the Bullets jacket — is grabbing a gun out from inside his belt.

  I jump to the side and behind a parked car as the two guys disappear from my view. A moment later a bullet is fired and one of the car windows shatters inwards. I crouch down and hear another bullet, this one ricocheting off the ground underneath the car, dangerously close to me.

  But then a pained voice comes through:

  “Fuck, my arm!”

  No bullets fired, and I decide to take my chance. I jump up from behind the car and aim quickly, firing again. A second window in my garage shatters and smoke quickly billows out of it. I grimace.

  “”Fuck it, let’s go!” screams the man with the injury as the one with the gun aims at me again. I aim at him. We both fire and I hear a quick whizzing sound before some brick behind me explodes. But my shot was better. Blood sprays out of his right shoulder and he twists backwards, his arm falling and his gun dangling from his hand.

  “Argh!” the man s
narls, and I smile. He glares at me, those eyes burning with hatred, and then he turns on his bike, grabbing the handle with his good hand. The first guy does the same.

  Their bikes lurch forward and I fire again, but it misses and hits the garage door once more. Their engines roar and whine down the street as I come out from behind the car. I fire after them over and over but they keep driving away, and soon enough my gun clicks dry. I turn my attention to the burning Molotov on the ground and quickly rush over, tucking the gun into the back of my jeans.

  This thing could go off at any moment. The rag is burning down, the flames licking the neck of the bottle. I stop in front of it and stomp down on the fire. The flames mostly die and I keep going, making sure they’re all gone. When it’s out I pick the bottle up and pull the rag out, throwing it into a puddle and tossing the bottle down the street. I hear it shatter far away from me.

  The alarm inside my shop is still going off and I look into my garage. Now that I’m close I can see the flames just hidden by the smoke inside. I run over to the security panel, quickly keying in the code, hoping to God that the system hasn’t burned out leaving the door stuck where it is.

  Relief floods through me when I hear the rumble as the motor starts us. The door starts to lift and smoke immediately pours out, floating up and into the night. I take a deep breath and bend over, rushing in, trying to keep my head down low and out of the thick, acrid smoke.

  A large circle of flame encompasses my garage floor and the canvas tarp covering the bike is on fire. Against one wall is my fire extinguisher and I go for it, yanking it free. The thing is hot but not hot enough to burn me. I pull the pin and quickly begin spraying the canvas, sweeping over everything that I can. I have to keep my head down and I just thank my lucky stars that the cocktail didn’t land on my work bench.

  Even so it takes me a minute to get all the flames down, and when the canvas is just a smoking wreck covered in white powder I pull it off the bike. Sure enough, the leather seat is fucked and the handlebars have drooped down, melted in the fire. The tires are a liquid pool of rubber.