Summer Loving: A Dark Romance

by B. B. Hamel

  “Sorry,” I whisper as I stand at the door. I pull back the bolt and slide off the chain before opening the door and slipping out into the night.

  I smile, staring up at the sky. I breathe deep and let it out.

  Freedom, finally freedom. No drugs to keep me chained, no man to keep me down. I can go anywhere, do anything. I have fifty bucks and the clothes on my back, but I finally feel free.

  I hurry to the stairs, but before I can start walking down, the door to the room opens behind me. I stare as Julian steps out, still in only his boxer-briefs. He looks both ways before spotting me. We lock eyes and I stare at his muscular chest covered in tattoos, and for a second, I think about going to him. I think about how that could be, if I finally stopped running.

  Instead, I bolt. I go as fast as my legs will take me, practically tumbling down the stairs. I slide at the bottom and careen into the wall but I keep going, running as fast as I can.

  He’s right behind me. Julian’s a monster, a beast, a danger in the dark. I’m running on fear and horror but he’s gaining on me. I sprint across the parking lot, desperate to reach the street, and part of me thinks I might make it.

  Until I feel him grab my wrist and pull. We both tumble down onto the grass between the motel and the sidewalk. I smash and roll and try to get to my feet but his grip pulls me back, forcing me back down to the ground.

  “Fucking hell,” I gasp, struggling. “Let go of me.”

  “No,” he says, his voice soft and sweet like honey. It’s a velvet rope, tied around my throat. “You’re not running.”

  I struggle, but he wraps his arms around me and pulls me to my feet. I try to push him away, try to punch him in the chest, but it’s like hitting steel. He throws me over his shoulder like a caveman and carries me back to the room.

  I stop fighting when we get up the stairs. It’s no fucking use. He’s a monster, a brute, a freak. There’s no escaping him.

  We get back into the room and he throws me onto the bed. I stare up at him, fear and anger writhing through me, but also something else. He’s half naked, just wearing a pair of boxer briefs, and he’s gorgeous. He’s cut and lean and his eyes are burning through me like spotlights. I stare at him and I hate him, but I also want him so badly it almost hurts. I can feel it, aching between my legs. I hate myself for it.

  “Why did you run?”

  “He might not come after me.”

  He sighs and leans over me, looming like a giant. “He doesn’t let anyone go, ever. Do you get that?”

  I stare into his eyes, inches from me. “You’re an asshole,” I whisper. “Just let me go.”

  “No,” he says. “You’re a liability. If you get caught, I’m screwed. You stay.”

  “My hero,” I answer, rolling my eyes.

  “I’m not a fucking hero,” he says angrily. “I’m just trying to save your fucking life while saving my own. Maybe you’ll get that one day.”

  He’s inches from my face, his full lips angry and inviting.

  I reach up and touch his cheek. It’s rough, stubbled. He cocks his head toward my hand and his expression softens.

  “You shouldn’t.” His voice comes out harsh and whispered.

  “I know.”

  He reaches forward and slides his fingers through my hair. A chill runs down my spine. It’s dark in the room and he’s like a black hole, sucking all the light into him. I lean forward, stupid and hungry and angry and scared, and he kisses me.

  It feels like a flower blooming all at once. His lips press against mine and open, his tongue sliding against my teeth, his taste flooding my mouth. It’s chocolate and red wine and earthy tobacco. It’s startling, how good it feels, and I press myself tighter against him.

  He grunts as his fingers tighten into a fist in my hair. My hand drops from his cheek as he pulls, just enough to make me gasp, yanking my lips from his.

  “You don’t know what you’re doing,” he says.

  “I know,” I answer. “But I don’t care.”

  He pulls me back onto the bed, pushing me flat down onto the mattress, ripping the comforter and bedspread off and throwing them onto the floor. I stare up at him, at his bulging muscles, and I’m intensely aware for a second that he could break me. He could so easily break me.

  He pins my wrists down above my head, holding them there, his eyes watching me. I feel him run his gaze down along my body, lingering on my breasts and lips and I know what he’s thinking. I’m thinking the same thing.

  He grabs the waist of my jean shorts and tugs them down, sliding them off. I’m wearing just my panties, but he doesn’t stop there. He pulls those off too, rolling me onto my stomach. I look over my shoulder at him as he runs his hand down my back, sending a shiver along my spine.

  He spanks me hard. I gasp and look at him. There’s a smirk on his lips. “You shouldn’t try to run.”

  “What are you--?”

  He spanks me again, harder this time. I groan as he slides his fingers between my thighs, easily finding my pussy. I’m surprised by how wet I am as he rubs his fingers over my slit and clit, teasing me as the pain recedes.

  “You shouldn’t run,” he says again. He spanks me a third time, hard enough to leave a handprint on my smooth white skin.

  “Why not?” I whisper.

  That gets a smile. He presses his fingers inside me, pushing deep into my pussy. I groan and arch my back. With his other hand, he spanks me again, not quite as hard this time. His fingers slide in and out of my dripping pussy as he spanks me a fifth time, a sixth time. I’m dripping for him, pleasure and pain mingling on my skin, and it’s confusing, all of this is so confusing.

  He releases me and leans back. I watch as he slides off his boxer briefs, his hard cock massive in one hand. I stare at him, at his defined abs and bulging chest. His cock looks like it’s longer than my forearm, and probably as thick. He smirks as he teases me with it, rolling his thick head up and down my ass and pussy, teasing my wet spot with it.

  “Fuck, Julian,” I whisper. “I don’t know... I mean, I’m sober now. I can feel everything.”

  He grabs my hair, pulling my mouth back toward him. “Good,” he says, kissing me deep. I kiss him back and I can feel his hard cock against my skin.

  He bursts inside of me so easily, it’s like I’m split in half by pleasure. I must be soaking wet to take a cock like that without any problems. He presses himself against me from behind and slowly slides all the way in, head to hilt, burying himself in my tight little pussy. I’ve never been this split open before, never taken a dick this big in my life. I groan as he moves his hips, sliding in and out, grinding his cock inside of me.

  He grabs my hips and pulls me up off my stomach, onto my hands and knees. I look over my shoulder at him as he slaps my ass and grabs my hair in his left hand. He starts to thrust, not too hard at first, fucking me deep and hard but slow. I watch him over my shoulder until he pulls my hair, making me gasp, fucking me faster.

  I don’t know where this is coming from or how this is happening but it feels too fucking good to stop it. I grab the hem of my hoodie and pull it off, making him release my hair. I get my shirt off next and my bra, and he doesn’t stop fucking me as I undress for him. I want to feel it all, every inch of his skin against my own. He reaches forward and I sit back, up on my knees, his cock still buried in me. He feels my breasts and I work my hips, looking over my shoulder and finding his mouth. He kisses me as I wiggle my ass, moving his cock in circles inside of me.

  I’m sweating and panting when he pushes me forward again. This time, he fucks me without mercy. I can tell he’s losing patience. I can tell he feels what I’m feeling. Intense pleasure, beyond anything I’ve experienced. I gasp his name, again and again, as his rough hands grasp my hips and he fucks me, harder and deeper.

  I move my back and ass, twerking my hips, taking his cock deep and rough. I’m sweating and pleasure’s blooming and I don’t know where I am, why I’m even here, and none of it matters. He’s my capt
or, my owner, and he dominates me completely, and I love it. I fucking love it. I throw my head back and groan as his hand finds my clit, rubbing me as he fucks me violently. I keep my back stiff, my hips moving, his cock sliding in and out. It’s forceful and it’s incredible and it’s everything I need. I look over my shoulder and stare at him as he pushes me down into the pillow, fucking me harder and harder, his huge cock tearing me into pieces.

  I can feel it then, building, the pieces coming back together. His eyes flash hunger and desire and he doesn’t stop. He’s sweating too, beautiful rivulets running down his ink-scarred skin, over his defined muscles, dripping onto my hot skin.

  I move my hips faster, churning my legs, using my strong thighs to take his cock. I gasp and my fingers find the sheets, grabbing hard and pulling. He slaps my ass and it’s like that’s all I needed, as the build finally completes itself, and it can all release.

  I come hard, body tightening, moving and jerking over his cock. He doesn’t relent. He doesn’t slow down. He fucks me as I come, begging his name, saying every dirty thing I can think of, telling him to fuck off and go to hell and oh god keep fucking me harder with your huge cock, everything spilling from my mouth as he doesn’t pause, doesn’t hold back. He fucks me harder and harder and I come until I can’t breathe.

  Finally it subsides, almost like there’s too much pleasure in my body. He groans as he pulls himself from my beat-up pussy. I collapse forward against a pillow as he strokes himself, smirking at me.

  “You really shouldn’t try to run away,” he says softly.

  “I disagree.” I smile at him, almost a little dazed.

  He pulls me toward him, and I know he’s not done with me. I straddle his hips and he lowers me down onto his cock again, my hands on his shoulders. He splits me in two as he fucks me, supporting my weight with his strong arms. He fucks me fast and hard, not trying to hold anything back now. I gasp and groan his name, whispering into his ear. I want to feel it, his hot cum between my legs. I want it so badly I can barely breathe, almost as much as I wanted my own orgasm.

  He comes not long later. His groans get deeper as he gasps and fills me. I can feel his cock twitch and I take him, every single inch, every single drop, I let him fill me up to the brim and I wish I could have even more. I groan as he finishes and we fall together onto the mattress, spent and sweating and breathing deep.

  I know it’s wrong. He’s a stranger, he killed Leo, he’s keeping me here when all I want to do is run away. But that was the best sex of my life, better than I could have guessed. And looking into his eyes, I think there’s more, much more. I want it, I feel so greedy for it. I can’t remember the last time I felt this much, and it’s because of him.

  I should run away. That’s where he’s wrong. I should run and run and run, because if I get fucked like this every time he catches me, it’s all worth every step.

  9

  Julian

  I wake up early the next morning still ringing with her body, every inch of me still tasting her skin.

  It’s a strange feeling, impossible to describe. We’re both stuck in this fucking impossible situation, both of our lives on the line, and yet we’re not on the same team. I don’t trust her and I know she doesn’t trust me. It’s just the way things are, maybe the way things have to be. But we came together last night, came together in a way I didn’t really expect.

  She was so fucking sexy underneath all that anger. I don’t know what she’s been through, I don’t know her whole story, but I know one thing. She’s fucking beautiful in a way I’ve never experienced before.

  I take a quick shower, leaving the bathroom door open. I can still see her body in bed, sleeping through the sunrise. I get out and towel off before getting dressed. We need to get some new clothes, and soon, but first I need to do something.

  I sit at the table and watch her sleep for a few minutes. She looks peaceful, almost normal, like she was never addicted to anything in her life. I can almost picture her as any other suburban girl, growing up nice and clean and healthy and happy, running track and playing field hockey. Instead, she turned into the girl from the night we first met, bruise on her eye, junk in her veins, death at her feet.

  The bruise is fading. The junk is out of her system. But death… that’s still lingering, still a possibility.

  I sigh and slowly get up. I fish handcuffs from my bag and crouch down next to her, gently shaking her awake.

  “Hey,” I say softly. “Time to get up.”

  She blinks at me, smiling at first, but quickly covering that up. “What’s up?” she says.

  “You gotta get up.”

  “Huh.” She sits up slowly and sighs before falling back down onto her pillow. “Nah. I’d rather sleep.”

  “Kay.” I pull the handcuffs up and snap one end around her right wrist. “Get up.”

  She stares at the handcuff and then at me. “You’re kidding me.”

  “Not kidding. Up.”

  She hesitates another second before slowly getting to her feet. “What are you doing?”

  I lead her into the bathroom and point at the floor next to the toilet.

  “Down,” I say.

  “What?”

  “Get down on the floor.”

  She hesitates a second. “You’re kidding me, right?”

  “I’m not playing around, Kay. Get down on the floor next to the toilet.”

  “You really are a bastard.” Her eyes flash at me. “What are you gonna do if I refuse?”

  “I’ll make you,” I say softly. “You know I can. Make this easy on both of us.”

  She hesitates a second, chewing on that. I can sense her watching me, sizing me up. I hope she understands that I’m doing this for her own good. I can’t trust her now, not after she tried to run away last night, and I have something to take care of. I can’t risk her getting away.

  She slowly sinks down onto the tile floor. I cuff her wrists around the base of the toilet, making sure she can get herself loose.

  “Put the lid down at least,” she says.

  I slowly lower it. “You okay?”

  “Fuck you,” she says.

  I hesitate. “I’ll be back soon.”

  I head to the door. “You’re just as bad as all the others, you know that?”

  Her words stop me short. I don’t turn around, because I don’t think I can handle the look in her eyes right now.

  “You’re just as bad,” she snaps again. “You probably think you’re better, but you’re just a user. Just like everyone else.”

  I nod a little. “I’ll be back soon.”

  I hurry away before she can say anything else. I leave the room and make sure the door shuts behind me.

  I’m surprised by how much that stung. I know she’s smart and can find my weaknesses, but I didn’t expect her to say something like that. She’s not wrong, not at all, and that’s the worst part of it all.

  I tell myself I’m better. I’m getting out, I’m moving on. I’m not going to be just some criminal asshole anymore getting into fights for money. I’m making myself better.

  She’s right, though. I’m not better, never was, never will be. Her old boyfriend hit her, treated her like shit, but at least he got her high and didn’t handcuff her to a fucking toilet.

  Don’t get fucking soft now, Julian.

  I head down into the parking lot and walk a couple blocks toward the pay phone. I try not to think about her voice, about her accusing eyes, her angry body, her beautiful skin, her lips against mine, her pussy wrapped around my hard cock. I want to taste her again so badly it hurts but now that night feels like some strange magic spell that came over us, and I don’t know how to summon it all back again.

  I lean up against the wall next to the phone for a few minutes, just making sure the coast is clear. I drop in some change and dial, the number carved into my chest. It rings and rings and I’m about to hang up when the line clicks.

  “Yes?”

  The voice is haughty
, almost lilting, like he’s annoyed that he’s answering his own private line.

  “Hi, Hunter,” I say. “Have you missed me, old pal?”

  There’s a short hesitation, and I know he’s surprised. He shouldn’t be. Hunter knows me, and he knows what I’m capable of. But I guess he’s forgotten after all these years. Can’t blame him, I guess.

  “Julian,” he says, sounding genuinely pleased. “How are you?”

  “Been better, but I’m hanging in there.”

  “Good to hear, good to hear. It’s been a while.”

  “Yeah, it really has,” I say. “How long since we last spoke?”

  “Five years?” he asks. “Maybe longer. My word, five years. A very long time, long enough for a man to completely change.”

  “You’re right about that,” I say. “But I doubt you’ll ever change.”

  He laughs lightly. “Come now, Julian. I’m as steadfast as they come. I meant you, I hear you’re involved in all sorts of things.”

  I can sense the undertone to his words. “I think you know all about that, don’t you?”

  “Oh, no, no, not at all,” he says, chuckling. “Your low-class antics are far beyond my sight.”

  “For some reason, Hunter, I don’t believe you. In fact, I think you’re lying right now, just like you always have.”

  Another short pause. “I’ve never lied to you, dear friend.”

  “Yes, you have, but we don’t need to relive old memories. I’m calling to talk about new ones.”

  “New memories?” he asks. “Whatever could you mean?”

  I clench my jaw. I hate his fake politeness, his upper-crust accent, his bullshit. It’s all fake, all put on. I know the real Hunter, the bastard and the killer and the snake. I know what he’s like, inside and out, because we were best friends for years before he betrayed me.

  “Why are you trying to kill me?”

  The question comes out smooth and simple even if it feels like puking battery acid. Hunter laughs softly on the other end of the phone.

  “If I wanted you dead, you’d be dead.”