Deserter

by Myers, Shannon

  “Perfectly.”

  I just wanted to know that my son was being taken care of without all the bullshit. As I hopped back on my bike, I knew it wouldn’t be the last time that Betsy Sullivan fucked with me.

  It never was.

  I just wondered how long it would be before she pushed me to my breaking point.

  Chapter Eleven

  Celia: 1989

  “You come here often, little girl?” Grey growled in my ear.

  I smiled at the sound of his voice but continued flipping idly through the stack of records in front of me. “I do, sir.”

  A tattooed hand snaked around my waist, pulling me back against his hard body. I closed my eyes and inhaled traces of cigarette smoke and leather.

  It was dangerous.

  If anyone I knew walked in, I’d never hear the end of it from my mother. She’d probably ship me off to a convent. Maybe that was the best place for me because I was letting this biker dominate my every thought.

  Initially, I’d wanted to believe that my feelings were nothing more than the pangs of an adolescent crush; something that would fade away. It wasn’t normal, but I knew there were other women like me—captives who’d become attached to their captors.

  Hostages.

  Mary McElroy had been kidnapped and held captive by four men; developing such strong feelings that a death sentence for one meant suicide for her.

  Patty Hearst had been raped by members of the Symbionese Liberation Army before pledging her support; even robbing banks and creating explosive devices for them.

  Colleen Stan had been forced to live in a coffin-sized box under her captor’s bed for seven years yet didn’t turn him into the police when she escaped.

  I pored over microfiche and textbooks at the library, struggling to put a label on what it was that continually drew me to Grey. According to my mother, I’d bonded my spirit to his when he took my virginity. I tried to convince myself it was psychological and something that could be undone.

  “Celia,” he said softly, pulling me away from my thoughts. Hearing my name on his lips did things to me; strange things.

  His hand stayed on my hip as I turned to face him, and I inhaled sharply with just one look. He wore a ripped Pink Floyd t-shirt under his leather vest and his long blond hair hung down over one eye, making him look every bit the bad boy my parents had warned me about.

  I had graduation to think about and then college, but none of it mattered when he was in front of me. I wanted to know what his lips felt like against mine. I wanted to know if he thought about me as much as I did him.

  “Grey,” I finally responded, sounding out of breath.

  He pointed to the records. “What are you shopping for today?” He stepped around me and began rifling through them. “Let me guess—a little Duran Duran.”

  I frowned up at him. “Not even close.”

  “No? Maybe you’re more of a George Michael fan.” He pulled me close and crooned softly in my ear, “I guess it would be nice, if I could touch your body. I know not everybody has a body like you.”

  It was low and rough, and I could’ve listened to it forever. My heart throbbed steadily, proof that I wasn’t immune to him. Not even close. “I think you missed your calling. You’ve got a great voice.”

  He shook his head. “Fuck that. So, what do you like, Celia?”

  You. I like you.

  My cheeks burned as I reached for a record, holding it up for his inspection. “This. I like this.”

  His tongue clicked against his teeth as he took it from my hands. “Fleetwood Mac, huh? So, you don’t listen to newer music… you wear old dresses. Are you a time-traveler, princess?”

  “Yeah, Doc Brown lent me his DeLorean. Say, do you know where I could get some plutonium? I’ve gotta get back to the sixties, man.”

  He shook his head with a smile, complete with teeth and everything. “You’re something else. You know that cassettes have been invented, right?”

  I slowly walked away from him, letting my fingers trail across the stacks. “There’s just something about the sound on vinyl. It’s like you’re listening to the song in its purest form, you know?”

  Grey agreed and picked up Blue Öyster Cult’s Spectre LP, turning it over in his hands to the point that I couldn’t help but stare.

  I wasn’t unfamiliar with tattoos. My father had an anchor on his arm with my mother’s name woven through it from his time in the Navy.

  Grey, on the other hand, was covered in ink, from his biceps down to his fingernails. I was drawn to a particular one under the skull ring on his middle finger. I’d noticed it the night I was taken; when he pulled it from my body. I should’ve seen him as a monster. The bird in flames had looked almost sinister streaked with my blood, but it was the look in Grey’s eyes that had haunted me most.

  Apology.

  Regret.

  Some days, I could’ve sworn that Grey wasn’t much older than me. There was a hardness about him though that made fathoming a guess almost impossible.

  I was so caught up in my thoughts that I missed his question. “I’m sorry?”

  He ran his tongue across his teeth with another grin. “I asked what the deal was with the dresses.”

  “Oh.” I looked down at the short-sleeved floral dress with pearl buttons. “They were my Yiayia’s.”

  He looked up with a frown. “What the fuck is a Yiayia?”

  “My grandmother,” I replied softly. My eyes burned, and I began sifting through the albums again to distract myself.

  Grey tucked my hair behind my ear, letting his hand rest on my shoulder. “Did she meet the R—I mean, did she pass on?”

  I nodded and bit my lip. “Yeah, last year. She was… she was something else. I used to spend a lot of time at her house and she was always looking for a reason to bring out her old cocktail dresses. So, it’d be a random Tuesday afternoon, and she’d insist that it was time for the Feast of the Flowers or that we were going to throw a party for a saint.”

  My smile faded. “When she passed, I begged to take her dresses and jewelry. I couldn’t imagine them just being left to rot in the attic or worse, given to someone who had no idea of the story behind each piece.”

  His hand moved up to cup the back of my neck. “That’s why you wear them. You’re making every day a holiday, yeah?”

  “You know, I never saw it that way, but I guess I am.” I put the Fleetwood Mac LP back on the shelf.

  “Don’t you want it?”

  I shook my head. “No, I just like to look. Plus, I didn’t bring any cash—”

  He tucked the album under his arm and began walking toward the front.

  “Grey, no. I won’t let you.” I protested.

  He turned around with a glare. “It’s just a record. And what’d I tell you before? You don’t let me do shit. I make the rules.”

  I nodded. “Thank you. I mean, I still think you don’t need to waste your money, but—”

  “Fuckin’ shut it, Celia,” he ground out.

  “Thank you.” I raised up onto my toes and planted a soft kiss at the corner of his mouth.

  His eyes went dark and I couldn’t help but grin when he exhaled loudly through his nose. I hadn’t meant to do it. It had been a knee-jerk reaction to him wanting to buy me something.

  All traces of humor vanished when his jaw remained set in a hard line. I dropped back onto my heels, a combination of embarrassment and fear brewing in my chest.

  “I have to go.” I bolted from the record store with a bowed head and watery eyes.

  What had I been thinking?

  That my captor suddenly had feelings for me?

  Grey had been following me to make sure I kept my mouth shut, and I’d taken it as a sign of affection. A wave of dizziness washed over me, and I stumbled around to the side of the building, waiting for the world to right itself.

  Maybe if I waited long enough, my brain would take back the controls from my heart.

  “Celia!” Grey roare
d, and I shrank against the bricks, my body doing its best to collapse in on itself.

  His boots moved into my line of vision, but I kept my hands on my thighs and my focus on a crack running through the pavement. “I’m sorry. I just thought that—I don’t know what I thought. I won’t tell anyone what happened that night or when I showed up at the bar, I swear to you. You don’t have to follow me anymore.”

  “You think that’s why I’m here?”

  I blinked rapidly, trying to dispel the tears that were gathering. I didn’t want to cry in front of him again. “I don’t know, Grey.”

  His fingers curled under my chin, lifting my face up toward his and whatever he’d planned on saying died on his lips. “Jesus, Celia, you look like you’ve seen a fuckin’ ghost. What’s wrong?”

  I waved him off. “I’m okay. I just got a little dizzy.”

  In actuality, I’d gotten a little humiliated.

  “You’re not. Come on.” He looped an arm around my waist and led me into a small tattoo parlor next to the record store.

  “Uh, I don’t think—”

  That earned me a gruff, “Ain’t getting you a tattoo, princess. Trust me.”

  The walls were red and adorned with portraits of nude women and bleeding hearts. Thick red velvet curtains were pulled across doorways, leaving their contents a mystery. With the exception of the man behind the glass counter who greeted Grey by name, the buzzing of tattoo guns and the low murmur of voices were the only other sounds in the place.

  He unlocked a door and flipped on the fluorescent light above before ushering me in. “My office. Just sit here on the couch, I’m gonna grab you some water.”

  I waited until he disappeared before looking around. The walls were white and bare. The couch faced a large desk in the center of the room, along with a chair and a couple of filing cabinets in the corner. It felt empty.

  Grey returned with a small white and blue Solo cup. I drank the water and debated whether or not to leave when he spoke up from behind the desk. “You spend a lot of time at the library. You know of any books on UFOs?”

  I ran my thumbnail under the waxed rim of the cup. He was changing the subject, and I didn’t know what it meant. “I’m sure the library has a few. I’ll check when I go tomorrow.”

  “Good.”

  We slipped back into silence. Grey’s eyebrows drew together as he aimlessly turned the skull ring on his finger, seemingly deep in thought.

  That made two of us.

  I stood up and smoothed my dress. “Well, thank you for the water.”

  “Wait.” He pushed away from the desk and I hesitated as he stalked toward me. His mouth was set in a hard line, giving nothing away. “Ain’t mad at you, Celia.”

  I pushed down the feelings of claustrophobia and gave a small nod. The office suddenly felt too small for the two of us and the conversation we were about to have.

  I always found it odd when girls claimed that a boy had broken their hearts, as if someone could truly wield that kind of power.

  Standing in front of Grey though, it made sense. I’d wanted to believe that it was in his height and the way he carried himself, but it was so much more. He was a force that I could control no more than I could the sun and moon.

  His hands found my hair before moving down to the top button of my dress. He undid it, watching my face for a reaction.

  My mouth had gone dry despite the water I drank, and I swallowed nervously before unbuttoning the next one. Like Icarus, I knew my path would only lead to hurt, but I was too far gone to care.

  His nostrils flared and his hands moved down to the one below that. We continued, alternating, amid the sounds of our ragged breaths and when he reached my waist, Grey slipped the dress from my shoulders, letting it fall to the floor.

  I put my hand on his chest, comforted by the steady pounding against my palm. When I cupped his jaw with my other hand, he pulled back slightly.

  “Celia.” He let out a soft exhale through parted lips. “I’ve never done this before.”

  “What? Had sex in your office?” I frowned.

  Grey shook his head, looking like he was on the verge of passing out. “No, not that. I’ve never—”

  When his voice trailed off, I grinned. “What? Kissed someone?” He clenched his jaw and nodded, looking anywhere but at me. My smile faded. “Oh.”

  “You caught me off guard back at the record store and I didn’t fuckin’ know how to react. I didn’t want you thinking it was you.”

  I never would’ve imagined that there was something I’d done that Grey hadn’t. Granted, my experiences with kissing had left a lot to be desired afterward.

  I dropped my hand back down to rest against the other on his chest. “Did you? I mean, were you interested in learning?”

  The wave of heat migrated from my chest up to my face and I bit the corner of my lip, waiting for him to say something—anything that didn’t leave me feeling like a fool.

  He finally looked back down at me before admitting, “Thought about using your mouth, just not with mine.”

  My face, neck, and ears burned with the realization of what he had in mind and I squeaked out another, “Oh,” before the lightheadedness returned.

  Grey watched me with a curious expression before unbuckling his belt. “Come here.”

  I followed him on shaking legs back over to the couch as he unzipped his fly. He yanked the denim down over his thighs before sitting down and crooking a finger at me.

  “You’re—you’re not wearing anything under? You just let your—” I couldn’t bring myself to complete the thought.

  He chuckled. “Cock roam free? Yeah, princess. I go commando.” I watched, mesmerized as his hands moved up and down the shaft. “Get on your knees.”

  I lowered myself even as my insides were quaking with fear. I had no idea what I was supposed to do, but Grey locked a hand behind my head and guided my mouth down. I tentatively pressed my lips against him like a kiss and he chuckled.

  “Open up. Use your tongue.”

  I licked along the head, recoiling slightly at the saltiness.

  He leaned forward and gathered my hair in his fist before letting it rest near the nape of my neck. “Use your hand to jack me.” At my frown, he covered my hand with his and moved it up and down. “Like this. Now, your mouth.”

  I licked him again and looked up just as his head fell back and he let out a rough exhale. My victory was short-lived as he lifted his hips pushed himself in fully. The feel of him hitting the back of my throat made my eyes water, and I began gagging around him. His hand in my hair prevented me from moving and I began to panic.

  “Celia, relax and just breathe.” I looked up at him through streaming eyes and nodded as he pulled back. The second time, he went slower. I tried to do as he asked, but it was no use. I began gagging again almost immediately.

  Grey released my hair, and I wiped the back of my hand across my mouth. “I’m sorry.”

  “The fuck you sorry for?” His hands framed my face. “Been dreaming about your mouth for weeks and it didn’t disappoint. Come here.”

  Shivers raced across my skin as I straddled his lap and his fingers traced the delicate skin around my throat before slipping the straps of my bra down. With a flick of his wrist, the clasp opened, and my breasts spilled over into his hands.

  I took advantage of his momentary distraction and leaned down, pressing my mouth to his. This time, it was my hands holding him in place. His lips parted in surprise and I slipped between them, tasting the smoke from his last cigarette on his tongue.

  Instead of pushing me away, he sucked my lower lip between his teeth and tightened his grip on my hips. Anything I’d ever experienced paled in comparison to the feel of his beard against my cheeks and the scrape of his teeth along my lips. I was Aphrodite, unable to be satisfied by anyone but the god of war beneath me.

  Grey’s fingers moved up to trace circles around my nipples and I arched my back, thrusting them into his hands with a
muffled groan. He laughed softly against my lips and let his hand drift lower, stroking the front of my panties.

  What little control I’d had, I freely handed back over.

  “Fuck, Celia,” he broke away with a pant. “Need to be inside you.”

  I nodded shakily and raised up just long enough to slip my panties off before climbing back onto his lap. His middle finger plunged into me and he pulled my mouth back down over his with a low growl.

  “Grey,” I begged against his lips, not even sure what it was I needed.

  He added another finger and lightly bit down on my tongue before pulling it into his mouth. My head fell forward, and I tightened around him with a whimper. His lips moved down to my breasts, sending me over the edge when he took one in his mouth.

  I didn’t even recognize the sounds I was making as he lined himself up against my opening and pulled me down against his thighs. “Fuck, Celia. You feel so fuckin’ good,” he ground out through clenched teeth.

  I bucked my hips and raised up, trying to regain control. He realized it and brought me back down with a rough kiss.

  “Grey,” I moaned, before coming again.

  He gripped my chin in his hand and broke away with a pant. “Jamie, Celia,” he panted. “It’s Jamie.”

  “Jamie,” I repeated softly, feeling like something very important had just taken place. He’d given me his real name.

  With another nod, he moved inside of me, each thrust driving home the point that this was different from before. His mouth found mine again and I couldn’t stop myself from screaming out his name as my orgasm tore through me the same time as his.

  Beads of sweat ran down our faces and for a brief second, I wondered if he was going to revert to the cruel biker he’d been twice before, until he looked up at me with a wide grin.

  I relaxed and rested my forehead against his with a smile, drifting lazily back down to earth. “What does this mean?”

  His smile faded. “What does what mean?”

  “What just happened between us. I feel like we should talk about it.” I pressed my palm to his heart and sighed in contentment.

  He lifted me off his lap and stood, quickly pulling his jeans back up. When I looked at him, I knew. His face was a mask of indifference. The biker was back, and I wasn’t going to like what he had to say.