Summer Loving: A Dark Romance

by B. B. Hamel

  I slip into an alley and stand there, pressed against a wall, breathing fast. One of the guys walks past, frowning and looking annoyed.

  I have to get a hold of myself. I may not be Julian, but I can lose a couple of assholes like this. I was an addict for years, after all. I was an addict long enough to learn how to lose a tail and run away from people that want to hurt me.

  I slip back out into the street, going back the way I came. I don’t see either of the two, and only one passed by. As I turn around another corner, I spot one of the guys up ahead. He turns and stares at me as I walk quickly in the other direction.

  He follows close, talking into a phone. I hurry down another street, through an alley, and back out into a crowd. I dodge and weave through a group of people watching a guy doing a magic show for tips. I slip right past him and head down an alley, cutting between houses. Once I reach the other end, I turn a corner and run as fast as I can.

  I sprint, full out, for a few blocks before looking back. The guys are gone.

  I hurry down another street and stop for a minute to catch my breath before running some more. I stop and start and stop and start, going a circuitous route back to the motel. I never see the guys again, and I’m pretty sure I lost them as I finally spot the diner up ahead.

  I walk right into the parking lot, heart hammering. I’m already picturing Julian’s face, what he’ll say to me when I tell him what just happened. I still have our lunch, clutched in my hands at least.

  I walk down toward our room. As I turn toward the door, that’s when two shadows detach themselves from the corner up ahead. I turn and stare, but it’s too late.

  They’re barreling toward me, eyes wide and angry, and I let out a scream.

  13

  Julian

  I’m pacing back and forth, arms crossed. I know something’s fucking wrong.

  It doesn’t take two hours to get lunch. Maybe she decided to run again, but that makes no sense. She left her duffel bag here with most of her money and all of her stuff. If she was going to run, she’d take the bag and sneak off in the middle of the night or something. She has just enough for lunch and that’s it.

  No, something else happened. I’m imagining the worst case scenario, heart hammering in my chest, when I hear it.

  Footsteps outside. Two pairs of them, followed by a third pair just a minute later. It stops outside of my door. I stand there, tensed and staring at the door, when she screams.

  I throw open the door and jump out just as two big guys come barreling past at her. She stumbles backwards, trying to get to the stairs, as the shorter of the two grabs her. He’s grinning huge, with a bald head and a thick neck. The other guy’s thinner, taller, with squinty eyes and a neckbeard. He spots me as I walk over to him.

  “Oh, shit, Moe—”

  He doesn’t have time to finish that sentence. I smash my fist into his nose, breaking it instantly. I follow that up and slam my left into his gut, grabbing him by the shirt and throwing his skull against a neighbor’s door.

  He crumples down. The guy called Moe curses and grabs Kay by the hair, dragging her along, trying to get away. She fights him, though, kicking and punching.

  I run over and grab the guy, wrenching him away from her. He goes for something in his pocket but I bar his arm and flip him over my hip, tossing him onto the ground. It’s a move I’ve used a lot, using his weight against him. He slams onto the ground and I follow it with a knee to his throat and a fist to his jaw.

  He groans as I hear the other guy getting to his feet. I stand and go to chase but Kay stops me.

  “Let him go,” she says.

  “Why? He knows where we live.”

  “What are you going to do, kill him?”

  I hesitate a second. “Shit,” I say.

  Moe’s trying to get to his feet but I kick him back down. He groans and rolls side to side, holding his ribs. I reach down and drag him up, shoving him along back to our room. Kay follows at a distance as I throw Moe into our bathroom. She shuts the front door behind us and locks it.

  “Better not fucking touch me, asshole,” Moe says. I kick him in the knee and he crumbles against the toilet.

  “Why not?” I ask.

  “Because, man. I’m fucking made. I’m untouchable.”

  “You don’t look untouchable to me.” I slam his head against the toilet seat. “You seem pretty easy to touch, actually.”

  He groans as I grab his hair and yank his head back.

  “Who sent you?”

  He grins, his mouth full of blood. “You know who, Julian.”

  I flinch at my own name. “Hunter sent you.”

  “Yeah, he sent us. And he’s gonna kill you. Gut you like a pig.”

  I frown. “I don’t doubt that.” I let him go and he falls back down, leaning against the toilet and groaning.

  Kay watches from the doorway, lingering and scared.

  “What do we do?” she asks softly.

  “I don’t know,” I admit.

  “We can’t stay here. The other asshole will bring more.”

  “I know.” I tense my jaw. “I want to break that fucker.”

  “Julian.” She touches my face, and for a second, it brings me back. “We have to go.”

  I suck in a breath and let it out. I turn back to the bathroom and approach Moe. He flinches and whimpers a bit when I kick him one more time.

  “How much?” I ask him.

  “Half a million,” he groans right away. “For both of you. A lot less for just the girl.”

  “I’m guessing you were here for the easy pickings, right?”

  He doesn’t answer.

  I sigh and glance back at Kay. She’s packing everything already, getting ready to go.

  I crouch down next to Moe and stare into his eyes. “I’m not going to kill you.”

  The relief is palpable. Pathetic animal.

  “But you’re going to give Hunter a message for me,” I say. “Tell him I’m coming. Tell him his old friend is coming for him, and he’d better be worried.”

  Moe stares at me with his pig-stupid eyes and I turn away from him, dripping anger like acid from my body. Kay nods at me and throws her duffel over her shoulder. I grab my bag and we’re out the door together, walking through the blinding sunlight, hurrying away from the motel as fast as we can.

  14

  Kaylee

  I’m exhausted and sweating and adrenaline still lingers at the edge of my body as we check into a new motel.

  This time, Julian chooses a nicer place right next to the beach. “They won’t think to check here, at least not for a little while,” he says to me.

  “Can we afford it?”

  He nods. “Between what I have and what you brought, we’ll be fine for a few weeks. Maybe even a month or more.”

  I bite my lip but nod. At this point, I’m putting myself completely in his capable hands. I have no other choice, not really.

  The one time I finally start to feel good, start to feel free of everything that’s trying to drag me back down, two guys show up and literally try to drag me down. It would be funny if it weren’t so messed up.

  At least our room is nice. We get a spot right in the middle of the hallway with a window overlooking the ocean. It would probably be a pretty prime room during peak tourist season, but fortunately we’re not quite there yet.

  The room’s much nicer than the last one. The bed’s bigger, cleaner, and more comfortable. There’s a couch, a desk, an armoire with a television inside, and a table with a couple chairs against the far wall. We have just a Queen bed but that won’t be a big deal. The bathroom is nice and modern and surprisingly spacious.

  Julian dumps his stuff in a corner and collapses onto the bed. He folds his arms behind his head and stares up at the ceiling. I drop my bag on the other side of the bed and watch him, leaning against the wall.

  I’ve seen that look before. He gets it when he’s thinking, trying to reason something out. I figured that out right a
way. He’s not great at hiding what he’s doing, but that’s something I like about him. There aren’t any surprises when it comes to Julian, or at least when it comes to guessing his moods.

  That fighting back there, back at the other motel, was intense. It was incredible, actually. I know he said that he was a streetfighter, but I didn’t really know what that meant until I saw him in action. He’s not like some big, muscular brute or whatever, so he doesn’t look all that deadly.

  But he’s incredibly fast and strong and totally calm under pressure. It was amazing to watch. He took those two guys out almost with ease, like it was no big deal. He didn’t even break a sweat doing it. Then later, back in the bathroom, he was going to torture that guy. He was going to hurt him, over and over, until…

  I frown as his eyes flick over to me. His face doesn’t react. There’s a darkness inside of him, hiding away. It’s a darkness a lot like my own. My addiction, the drugs, my past, it’s like a black stain on my body. He has something just like that, but it’s different, more violent, more unpredictable.

  “Where do we go from here?” I ask him softly.

  He doesn’t move. “Not sure yet.”

  “We can’t just sit around and wait, right?”

  “Right.”

  “You know him, I mean, you went to school with him.”

  “It was a long time ago.”

  “You were friends. You have to know something that could—”

  “Kay,” he says, eyes narrowing almost angrily. “Enough. I’m thinking.”

  I shut my mouth and feel like a chastised schoolgirl. I want to explain to him that I’m just afraid and I want some kind of assurance from him, something to make me feel better. Instead, he’s snapping at me, lashing out in anger.

  “I’m taking a shower,” I say, and turn away from him. I head into the bathroom, shutting the door behind me.

  I turn on the shower but I don’t climb in, not right away at least. I sit down on the toilet seat and for the first time in what feels like years, I let myself cry.

  It comes up in sobs, up from my chest. I feel so stupid as I cry silently into my hands, and I don’t even understand why I’m so upset. This situation is no worse than my addiction, and maybe even better. There was no light at the end of the tunnel for me when I was on the junk, only eventual death or imprisonment. At least here, there’s some chance we can get away from this and have a normal life, even if it’s slim.

  I think I’m crying for the glimpse of freedom I got out there walking to the diner. I’m crying because I feel like I’ve just gotten something back, myself or my sanity or sobriety or whatever, and now it looks like I might lose it again. There’s a bounty on my head, same as him, and I can’t do anything about it. He’s my only chance, Julian the dark bastard. He makes me feel good but he also makes me feel so fucked up, and I don’t know what to do about that.

  Finally, I get myself under control. I strip off my dirty clothes and toss them in the corner before stepping into the stall. The water streams down my body as the glass door closes with a soft thud. It’s warm but has that odd semi-salty smell all shore water has, like the ocean has permanently seeped into the ground and won’t give up its grip. I know a lot of people hate the water here, but I actually love it. The taste, the smell, everything. It’s the ocean and nature and all of that, pure and simple, straight from the tap.

  I wash myself slowly. I start with my hair, even though it’ll take forever to dry, but what else do I have to do? I clean that, followed by my face and my body. I watch the soap rinse away, down into the drain, and I feel almost better. Almost human again.

  The door to the bathroom opens, and Julian comes in. I wipe a window in the steamed glass stall. He looks at me for a second before undressing. I watch him and don’t say a word as he gets naked, his cock half hard when he finally opens the door and joins me in the shower.

  He doesn’t speak. His hands slide down my skin, and for a second, I feel totally exposed. I know it’s silly, since of course I am, I’m naked and in the shower, but it’s more than just my body. I feel like he can tell I was crying, like he heard me or something and that’s why he’s being so tender. His hands move down my skin and find my fingers, palms pressing together. He lifts my hands up and steps forward, pressing my back against the glass wall and pinning my hands to either side of my head.

  “You’re afraid,” he says softly.

  I nod once, not breaking eye contact.

  “I can’t blame you. I think you should be afraid.”

  I bite my lip. “That’s not reassuring.”

  “I’m not here to reassure you.” His hands squeeze against mine. “I’m here to make you feel better.”

  He kisses me then, aggressive and fierce. I kiss him back and go to move my hands but he pins them back again, pressing them tight. His body moves against mine, both of us dripping wet, rivulets of water running down between my breasts. His lips move against mine and he pulls back to kiss my neck, my breasts, his cock stiffening with each moment.

  He sucks one nipple and releases my hands. He palms my breasts and bites my shoulder as I reach down to take his cock in both hands. I slowly stroke him as he kisses me, his fingers roaming my body until they finally find my pussy, wet not just from the shower, but dripping and soaked from his touch.

  I gasp as he presses his fingers inside of me, my back against the glass wall, my pelvis pressed outward. He fucks me with his fingers, sliding them in and out and moving his wrist, rubbing against my clit with his palm as he twists. It feels so incredibly good as I wrap my arms around his neck and moan his name, panting into the shower, the steam occluding everything, my breath leaving jagged traces in the air. He’s a shadow against me, flesh and anger all writhing against my pussy, sending wave after wave of pleasure ringing through my core. I move my hips and he’s leaning over me, chest against my breasts, lips against mine.

  He pulls back and grunts as he turns me around. I spread my legs for him, back arched, ass up. I’m practically bouncing on my toes, giddy with need, but he’s in no rush. He looks at my body, inspects me like a piece of meat, fingers tracing the edges and curves, every imperfection, every mark on my skin. He kisses my shoulders and arms, kisses over the track marks, my elbows, my wrists. His hands grab my ass and he drops down to his knees, his tongue suddenly between my legs.

  I groan as he licks me, every inch of me, from my ass down to my pussy. My fingers curl in, leaving lines in the steam as he tongues me, fucking my pussy with his tongue, teasing my ass. I groan and stare over my shoulder as he grips my hips hard and slaps my ass, a little smirk on his lips, the first time he lets his serious expression crack just the slightest bit.

  “This is how you think you can make me feel better?” I ask him.

  He nods and stands. “Eventually.”

  He spits into his palm and rubs it along his cock. I bite my lip as he presses his cock against my ass. I relax as he slowly enters me and I gasp as pain lances through me.

  “It’ll feel good eventually,” he whispers. “Just relax.”

  “Shit.” I take deep breaths. “I’ve never had… I’ve never been…”

  “Fucked in the ass?” He laughs softly. “I can tell. You’re tight. Just try and relax.”

  I do as he says. Deep breaths, calming myself. Slowly he pulls back and pushes forward again, so slowly. It hurts as first, but as we keep moving, his hands exploring my body, the pain turns into something… else.

  It’s hard to explain. It’s not pure pleasure, at least not the same way when he fucks my pussy, but it still feels good. It’s a full sensation, like he’s filling me and dominating me and I know it’s wrong and dirty and all kinds of fucked up to let my captor fuck me in the ass like this, take my anal virginity with nothing but spit. He angles the water away, to keep it from ruining what precious lube he has on his cock as he starts to fuck me a little faster.

  I groan with pleasure and pain and confusion, all mixing into one strange, incredible sensa
tion. As he goes faster, he reaches around my hips for my clit, and this time the real pleasure starts.

  Between his cock in my ass and his fingers on my clit, I’m in heaven. I didn’t know it could feel this good, getting fucked in my ass, but the simple act of rubbing my clit sends it all into the next level. The mixture of pleasure and pain, the knowledge of how dirty this is, it all pushes me past limits I didn’t even know existed.

  I gasp and moan his name. “See?” he whispers. “You’re starting to like it.” He teases my clit as he starts to fuck me faster. “I think you just might like getting fucked in the ass.”

  “I’ve never… I didn’t know.”

  “It’s okay. You’re allowed to enjoy a nice, fat cock in your ass. You dirty fucking girl.” He laughs softly and kisses my neck as he starts to fuck me faster.

  I keep myself relaxed as he works my clit, cock in my ass, thrusting and rubbing. Soon, I’m moving to his rhythm, working my hips and lower back to stay in perfect time with him. I’m losing myself as I feel all the stress, all the horror of the day slowly melt away, replaced by the intense bodily glow of him pushing my body into places I never knew existed.

  I look over my shoulder, biting down on my lip. His eyes meet mine and there’s no laughter, no humor, just pure desire. He moves faster, cock thrusting into my ass. I gasp as the pleasure and pain start to peak and move into new territory. I don’t know if I can handle it, but he doesn’t relent. He doesn’t give me a break, not for a second.

  He leans over me and kisses me. Something as simple as a kiss is exactly what I need in this moment. The kiss is the last straw, and I feel it all rush into me, all the pleasure and desire and intensity. I come as he rubs my clit faster, his cock buried deep inside of my ass. I come hard, whole body twitching with pleasure, losing control of myself almost completely.

  As I’m coming, I hear him groan. I vaguely feel him come at the same time, thick spurts inside of me, filling my ass, making my orgasm one step better. It’s a confusing cloud of pleasure and pain all mixed up, all wrapped up in our limbs.