by A. J. Wynter
“We have to go,” he pulled back from me and brushed the wet strands of my hair from my face.
“I knew it!” We both turned to face Lawrence standing at the top of the crescent-shaped stairway, the lights casting an otherworldly orange glow around his entire body. “You slut. It looks like your v-card has already been claimed,” he yelled. “You owe me a million dollars, you piece of shit,” he said and then bounded down the stairs toward our prone bodies.
Mick quickly left me lying on the ground, and stood up to tower in front of me like a sentry. Lawrence lunged at him, driving his shoulder into Mick’s chest - a football style ambush. Mick turned his body to deflect the full brunt of the tackle, but I heard his grunt as the air pressed from his body. Lawrence stumbled past Mick, close to tripping over his own loafers, but regained his footing. Mick turned and calmly strode toward Lawrence, who had adopted a wrestling stance.
“I don’t owe you anything, Larry,” Mick growled. “You owe this young woman an apology.”
Lawrence glanced over at me and scoffed, “She’s a social climber. You should let me fuck her and we can split the million. You’re a businessman, that’s a pretty good return on investment.”
Mick took a deep breath and stood up tall. His huge stride closed the distance between him and Lawrence in five steps. Lawrence’s eyes darted back and forth, and he lowered his wrestler’s stance in anticipation of the huge man’s tackle.
Instead of knocking Lawrence to the ground, Mick drew his hand back and slapped him across the face. Lawrence spun around and fell to his knees, his hand pressed to his cheek. He spat out some frothy blood and laughed, “A bitch slap for a bitch.”
Mick gripped both sides of Lawrence’s polo collar and lifted him off the ground. He drew his huge fist back behind him, like drawing an arrow back from its bow. Lawrence cowered and turned his face to the side in anticipation of Mick’s blow, lifting his hands to protect his pretty face.
Instead Mick pulled Lawrence’s face close to his.
“Look at me,” he growled.
Lawrence cracked one eye open warily to stare at Mick.
“You’re not worth it,” Mick growled and shoved Lawrence back to the ground. He immediately turned onto his hands and knees to spit blood out onto the manicured lawn.
Mick turned to walk away and then Lawrence started to laugh quietly, the laughing grew in intensity to the cackle I had heard earlier. Mick spun around and kicked Lawrence squarely in the ribs.
“Oof,” Lawrence grunted, falling to his side, writhing in pain. “I thought you said I wasn’t worth it,” he managed to choke out.
“You’re not worth my fists, but my boots, that’s another story.”
“You’re done in this town,” Lawrence stuttered falling in an attempt to rise to his feet, the front of his pants stained green from the grass.
This time it was Mick’s turn to scoff. “Pretty soon the whole world is going to know about your boy’s club. That’s not going to look good for the family name, is it?”
“You wouldn’t,” Lawrence stammered, still on his knees, looking like a downtown panhandler. “We stick together.”
“We? That’s funny, Larry. You know that I don’t bow to anyone in this town. I own this town.”
Mick turned and squatted down beside me, his powerful thighs pressing against his jeans, “Can you stand?” he asked, offering me his hand.
“I will try,” I said. I pressed into the ground and drew onto one knee. I successfully stood on my good ankle, but when I tried to put weight on the other one, a flash of white light, like a million paparazzo flashes, blinded me and I almost dropped to the ground in pain. Mick swept my legs up from underneath me into a honeymoon-style carry and strode off across the lawn.
“You’ll hear from me!” Lawrence’s voice cracked as he shouted at us.
“No, we won’t,” Mick said gruffly, looking straight ahead.
Mick carried me along the granite pathway, the carriage style lanterns illuminating the drizzle as it formed drops in the hair at the nape of his neck, his beard, and eyelashes. I rested my head against his chest and could hear his heart pounding through his flannel shirt.
“I love you,” I murmured into his chest without thinking.
“I love you too, Lucy,” he replied, then he kissed the top of my head, his lips jump-starting a surge of adrenaline that jolted from the crown of my head right to my baby toes and then back to my belly. The feeling of being in Mick’s arms superseded the pain in my ankle. The longing to be closer to him, to feel his skin against mine, was more powerful than the throbbing physical pain. I shifted in his arms, rubbed my thighs against each other, trying to get even closer to him. Hell, if I could’ve crawled inside that man at that moment, I would’ve.
I had never felt the raw desire to have Lawrence inside me. I hoped that waiting until marriage would allow that desire to grow. I hadn’t set out to be a college junior and a virgin, it had just kind of happened. When I met Lawrence, he was so supportive of the fact that I was a virgin, and now I get why.
I knew then that I wanted to be in Mick’s bed, I wanted to taste the salt on his skin, I wanted to feel him inside of me. I didn’t care who he was. Poor hermit be damned. I wanted Mick. It wasn’t the traumatic experience talking. For the first time in my life, I wanted to make love to someone. Screw that, I wanted Mick to fuck me. I wanted him to throw me down in the back of his pickup truck, I don’t know why, but I just assumed that he would be the pickup truck kind of man, grab me by my hips and fuck me hard.
My head lolled against Mick’s chest as we rounded the corner of the mansion. Mick pressed me tighter to his chest and grasped my entire body with the arm that was under my thighs. I turned to look to see if I had been right about the pickup truck, but Mick reached his other arm to open the door of a – helicopter?
Chapter 30 – Mick
I wanted to steer my helo east to get Lucy as far away from Seattle as possible, but I knew that she needed medical attention. One quick call to my personal doctor had been all it took to have a surgical team at the hospital awaiting our arrival. I’ll be the first to admit that our health care system favors the rich, but when I saw the pain flash in Lucy’s eyes every time she moved, I couldn’t help but be thankful that I had a full medical team at my disposal. Luckily it had been a clean break, no surgery required. She would need a little physiotherapy after the cast was off, but she should be back in action and on the track for spring training, I was going to make sure of it.
Three hours later, after a quick stop at the office to pick up Chopper, we lifted off from the helipad and purred off toward the Cascades. I glanced over at Lucy and my heart surged with empathy. Chopper hadn’t left her side from the moment we picked him up and contentment washed over me like a wave as I watched her languidly stroke his ear while she gazed down at the lights of Seattle.
Was I surprised that she told me that she loved me? Yes. Was I surprised that I said it back? No. I knew from deep within that I loved her, that she had been brought into my life to prove to me that I can love and respect women. Could it have been duress that drove her to say that she loved me? Maybe, but in my heart, I knew that it was true. And the best part? She told me when she thought that I was a broke bushman.
The snow swirled up and danced in the lights as I set the chopper down on the cabin’s landing pad. As the blades slowed, Lucy looked over at me and laughed. She tapped the panel with her hand, “So, this is what was under that big pile of snow.”
“Roger that, beautiful.” I took off my headset and reached over to help Lucy pull hers off.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked.
I knew what she was asking but didn’t know the right way to respond. To tell her that I wanted her to like me for me, not for the billions of dollars in my offshore bank accounts sounded cliché.
“Why didn’t I tell you what?” I tried to brush it off.
She wasn’t having it.
“Ah, you thought that
I was a gold-digger,” she sighed and turned to me.
“Lucy. I know that it might be hard to understand, and I wanted to tell you the truth, I really did--”
“But you didn’t trust me,” she interrupted.
“No. Trust. No, that’s not it at all. Look, it’s getting cold out. The path to the cabin isn’t packed down yet, so there’s no way that you’re going to be able to make it on those crutches. I’m going to get the toboggan for you and Chopper. I promise you this. When we’re inside and I’ve got the fire going, I will answer any questions that you have for me.”
“Promise?” Lucy asked. She used both hands to grasp her cast and gingerly brought her foot to the floor of the helicopter.
I pulled on my wool hat and grabbed my work gloves from my bag. “I promise. No more lies.” I didn’t really consider what I had done to be lying, more like an omission of the truth, but I meant it. I was ready to be an open book for this woman. I was ready to be with Lucy.
Chapter 31 -- Lucy
Mick propped me up on the couch and tucked the quilt around my legs, then he set to work lighting the fire. The pot was percolating and the whole cabin smelled of coffee and, I something else that I couldn’t describe, other than to say it smelled like home.
I heard the roar of the fire as the kindling caught, and Mick jogged into the kitchen, “Two milk, right?”
I smiled. Lawrence always got my coffee order wrong. How hard could it be to remember that I take two milks in my coffee? I realized that Lawrence had never really looked at me, or even heard me. I had just been a pawn in his life, a game piece in his sick world.
“Yes, two,” I shouted, but Mick was already back by my side, steaming cup of coffee in hand.
“Careful, I didn’t have any decaf, this rocket fuel might keep you up all night,” he warned.
The fire cast an ethereal glow over Mick, his eyes sparkled, and I followed the movement of his strong hands as they set the pottery mug of coffee down on the log table. He was every bit a fairy tale hero, except for the fact that he was real, and he was sitting on the couch next to me. It wasn’t until that moment, the moment he was bathed in the firelight, I realized that he hadn’t just saved me once, but twice. I was looking at my guardian angel. And he was hot.
“I believe I owe you some answers,” he smiled and patted the knee of my good leg. “Ask away, sweetheart, I’m an open book,” he said, spreading his arms open wide.
“Kiss me.”
I wanted answers, I wanted to know why he lied, but at that moment, I wanted him more.
“That’s not a question,” Mick smiled wryly and gingerly crawled over top of my body, knees on either side of my hips, his hands pressing into the couch cushions by my shoulders.
I could feel the heat between our bodies as his chest hovered inches above mine. The butterflies from earlier returned with a vengeance and I felt myself pushing my hips up to meet his, my body wanting to be as close to him, and his cock, as possible.
“Will you kiss me, Mick?” I replied. “I believe that a quest--,”
Mick interrupted my sassy response by pressing his lips against mine. The rush of his soft lips swept through my body and I could feel the wetness of my want, my need for him, between my legs. He teased my lips with his tongue, his beard gently tickling my cheeks and chin. His quick, gentle kisses turned ravenous and aggressive, and I only wanted more.
He drew back from my lips and I felt my skin prickle as he kissed along my jawbone, moving down my neck. I writhed with anticipation beneath the trusses of his hips straddling mine. He gazed at me as he traced his fingertips where his lips had been, drawing a line from my earlobe down to my collarbone. He reached to grab my t-shirt from the back, gently inclining me while he pulled it over top of my head.
“You’re beautiful,” he said, tossing my t-shirt onto the floor.
He nipped and kissed at the top of my breasts and I could feel the heat from his breath through the thin cotton fabric of my bra. When he kissed at my nipples, I couldn’t help but gasp and writhe beneath him. I had never been so turned on in my life, it was as though my body needed him inside me; it felt wrong that I wasn’t filled up with Mick.
I could feel Mick’s hard-on through his jeans and I arched my body like a bow against him, aching to feel his cock between my legs.
Mick abruptly stopped kissing me and sat up. He pulled a scrappy patchwork quilt from the back of the couch and draped it over my body.
“I’m sorry,” he said, shaking his head. “I got a little carried away there.”
“Don’t be sorry, Mick.” I grabbed the quilt and ripped it off my chest.
“Lucy. You’ve had a very traumatic week. Your first time should be special.”
I understood why he had pulled back, but I knew that it wasn’t the trauma or the fact that he rescued me. It was pure and raw desire for him. I had waited my whole life to feel the feeling that I felt when I was with him, and I didn’t want to wait one more minute.
“Mick,” I said sternly and held his hands in mine. “I have one more question for you, and I need you to be one hundred percent honest with me.”
“Of course, Luce,” he replied earnestly.
I paused dramatically.
“I can’t think of a night more special than tonight,” I squeezed his hands.
“That’s still not a question, gorgeous.” I could tell by the smile on his face that he knew where I was going with this.
“Mick. Will you fuck me?”
Mick looked at me and then pulled his hands from my grasp.
“No, Lucy. I will not fuck you tonight.”
And with that, my heart sank.
Mick leaned forward, pressed a kiss to my lips, brushed the hair back from my forehead, then whispered in my ear, “I’m not going to fuck you, I’m going to make love to you.” He pressed a kiss to my cheek and then to my lips.
My heart soared. I was going to lose my virginity to Mick Brady. I frantically kissed him back and fumbled with the button on his jeans.
“Whoa, girl,” he smiled. “We’ve got all night. And tomorrow. And the next day.”
I was hungry for him and didn’t want to wait. He seemed determined to tease me until my pent-up sexual desire made me burst. He dismounted me, swept me into his arms and carried me into his bedroom.
Chapter 32 – Mick
Carrying Lucy into my bedroom felt like the most natural thing in the world. Fuck, I was so hard I had wanted to rip off her pants and take her right there on the couch. Then I remembered that she was a virgin and that this was going to be my first time having sex since October, a monumental event for both of us.
I buried my face in her hair and inhaled her citrusy scent as I set her down on the bed. I pulled back the thick duvet and gently set her casted ankle down on the bed. She shimmied back and reclined into the down pillows.
She reached up and grasped me by my neck, pulling me down on top of her. She was a strong and tough woman and I doubted that she would ever tell me if I were hurting her ankle, so I pressed my hands into the mattress to keep my body weight from crushing her. I know there’s no scientific explanation, but every time my lips touched hers, I felt a pulse of energy shoot through my body and warm me from within. I mean, her touch got me so rock hard I thought the zipper in my pants was going to split from the pressure of my response. I loved the way the kisses I planted along her jawbone made her smile, and I shivered when I heard the quiet moans escape through her pink lips.
The woman was horny. Anyone could see it as plain as day. I could feel her writhing in my arms as I carried her to my helicopter. I knew that her body wanted it, and I was only happy to oblige, but I also wanted to be sure that her mind was ready. I propped myself up on my elbow and traced my finger down her chin and between her breasts, goosebumps trailed closely behind.
“Are you sure you’re ready for this? I can wait. I will wait for you, Lucy...” I heard the words coming out of my mouth, but they seemed so foreign, like nothing
I had ever said before in my life because, well, I hadn’t. I had never thought about what the woman, ahem, women in my bed were thinking.
She propped herself up on her elbows and smiled at me. She seemed amused. “Mick, I’ve been naked in a sleeping bag with you. Take off my clothes and show me what you wanted to do to me when you first met me.”
“Lucy, when I first met you, the only thing I wanted to do was keep you alive.” I ran my hands through her hair and kissed her lips tenderly.
“Oh, come on. Tell me you didn’t want to, you know, do it with me in the sleeping bag that night,” she rested her hand on my cheek and stroked my beard.
I pulled her hand from my face and held it to my heart, “I swear to god, Lucy. Sleeping with you didn’t even cross my mind.”
Her eyes narrowed, she pulled her hand from mine and crossed her arms across her chest. “I wasn’t hot enough for you?”
Jesus Christ.
I pried her hand from her armpit. She resisted, but only mildly. I kissed her fingertips. “No, of course not. I mean yes, you were hot enough.” I was frustrated but could understand where she was coming from. “Fuck, Lucy. Here’s the thing. The fact that I only wanted to help you, that I didn’t see you as something just to, um, fuck. That’s special.” I kissed the top of her hand again and I could feel her body relax. “You are a beautiful woman. You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met.”