by Cara McKenna
“That feel good?” he asked, pounding hard.
She nodded, looking too lost to form words, mouth open.
“Open your eyes. Watch me.”
She did, and the sight wound him tight.
“Touch yourself.”
She slid a slender arm between the dresser and her belly, the motions unseen but the fact of it burning him alive. He dropped his face to her neck, kissing her there, nipping with his teeth as his hips worked, cock drilling. “You like watching us?”
“Yeah.”
“Tell me.”
“Your face,” she murmured, sounding half gone. “I like watching your face.”
He opened his eyes, found hers holding them there in the glass as he kissed her. He slowed. Slid his length out, eased it back in one millimeter at a time. Made them both feel every measure of his excitement, slick from hers.
Christ, I could love you.
Fuck. Where the fuck had that come from?
He stood up straight, startled, eyes wide in the mirror. Made his hips get back to work to cover his surprise.
Just the sex. Just the best sex of your life, dumbass.
He gripped the edge of the dresser, arms locked beside her ribs and his belly flush to her butt and back. Let her feel closed inside him, framed by his body the way he felt consumed by hers. He saw her shoulder flexing in the glass and imagined her fingers teasing her clit.
“Come for me,” he whispered, right behind her ear. Her eyes shut—always a good sign, he was learning. One of his hands left the dresser, sneaking back to grab her ass. He kneaded her flesh, sucked a breath and gave her a soft smack. She gasped and he massaged the spot. Slowing his hips, he reached around to cover her hand with his. Her knuckles danced against his palm as she pleasured herself. He couldn’t see it, wasn’t touching any part of her he couldn’t caress in public, but Christ. So fucking sexy. Something about her turned the simplest contact into the dirtiest pornography. And in turn, these frantic acts felt so shockingly . . . what? Tender? Not quite, no. Romantic?
No. Meaningful.
Shit, this was so fucked. So fucked, and so hot. Incendiary. Figured something as clean as affection or attachment or whatever this was would strike a heathen like Vince as taboo. And all at once he felt near to pleading, instead of ordering.
“Come for me, sweetheart.” He laid a finger along each of hers, riding those private motions. “Come on. Please.” It felt good—begging. He could imagine doing this as she sucked him. Harder. Please. Deeper. Like that, don’t stop. Goddamn, he liked how weak she made him. Weak and needy and desperate; things he never felt for anyone, ever. He was at her mercy, even as his body punished hers. All these things he’d never experienced, like he was the snowiest virgin. And here this unassuming woman was, defiling him.
He felt her surrender—the telltale tightening of her sex around his cock, like her body was pleading. He pumped her harder, on fire to imagine he was exactly what she needed.
In the mirror, her parted lips looked as flushed and plump as the ones hugging his dick. Too tempting to ignore. He traced the lower one roughly with his thumb before slipping it inside. She welcomed the intrusion, biting down softly and tonguing the tip.
“Suck me . . . Good.” The best kind of tease, imagining even more than they were already giving each other. He wanted to possess her, utterly, and get used hard in return. Like when idiots in sugary movies wanted to complete each other, only so much filthier.
“Imagine that,” he murmured, giving her more of his thumb. “Imagine that, and come for me again.” Imagine tasting his cock, even as it owned her. He wanted to be her entire fucking world.
All at once, he was in trouble. His own orgasm had gone from a promise to a threat, need burning deep in his belly and demanding out. His hips got sloppy. His thumb slipped from her mouth, hand curving around her shoulder and tugging her into his thrusts.
“Fuck. Get there with me. Now.”
The second he felt her obeying—felt those muscles fluttering around him—he was gone. The orgasm tore through, so hard he pushed her bodily into the dresser, drawer pulls clacking. He’d mashed her arm against the wood and grasped it now, letting his knuckles take the punishment as he ground into her through the release. It was a violent, destructive thing, turning his body inside out and leaving him wasted.
When he could, he stood up straight and eased his still-hard cock from her. He studied their panting bodies in the mirror, and a strange realization settled over him.
This is where you quit caring. He’d shut his bossy dick up, given it what it wanted. Now was the time when his brain took over, getting busy with strategies for making sure the target of his fleeting attraction didn’t get ideas. But as he scanned Kim’s expression for signs of female attachment . . . he found nothing but physical satisfaction, and it was disappointment he felt, not relief.
He grabbed her wrist without thought, tugging, and she joined him when he flopped his spent body across the bed.
The backs of their hands touched, but that was all. They stared at the ceiling, the points of its spackle casting tiny shadows by the light of that single glowing bulb. He felt the heat coming off her, heard her breathing, smelled her sweat. He ought to be hauling his jeans up his legs, making excuses for all the shit he needed to get done.
Vince hadn’t clung to a woman after sex since he’d been nineteen, maybe. Since before his mother had gone crazy, for sure. After that, he just hadn’t had the energy to bare that side of himself.
Unbidden, his fingers twined with Kim’s, a little taste of what it might feel like to get wrapped up with a woman out of desire, not obligation. Out of pleasure and affection. He could sample that with her. This was safe. She had a life to return to, once this mystery was settled, once the danger was snuffed, and a man like him didn’t stand a chance at changing that. There would be no for-keeps with Kim, only for-now. Because why would a woman like her want a man like him long-term?
And that was true for life in general. Everything was fleeting. Everything that depended on other people, anyhow.
“That was amazing,” he murmured. “Really fucking amazing.”
“Agreed.” After another long silence, Kim broke the peace. “Have you ever been in love?”
Apparently he wasn’t the only one feeling sentimental. Had any other woman asked Vince that, he’d have broken out in a cold sweat and started formulating excuses to get his ass out the door. Instead he thought about it long and hard. “Once. Maybe.”
“Who?”
He looked away, studying the room without taking anything in. “First girlfriend. Teenage shit.”
“What happened?”
“She left.”
“Left you?”
He shrugged against the covers. “Left me, left town. Her father got some job in Colorado. She moved the summer before our senior year.”
“Oh. Well, that happens, I guess.”
“She said she’d come back,” he said flatly. “Same as my dad did. Same as Casey told me he would, for nine years before I finally forced his ass back home. Just what people do, I guess. Leave.”
“You have some abandonment issues you’d like to talk about?” she teased.
He met her eyes. He knew it seemed that way. Nita had suggested the same on more than one occasion. To Vince, it was the same coin, wrong side.
“Nah,” he said. Then he told her something he’d never articulated to anybody before. “It’s more like I wonder sometimes . . . what’s wrong with me.”
“Oh?”
“Not what’s wrong with me that just about everybody who’s ever meant anything to me has left. But what’s wrong with me that I never did the same. Got out of that town. Made something of myself.” Something aside from King Shithead.
He could tell from the way Kim’s eyes widened, she hadn’t considered the puzzle from that angle. “What you do for your mother is certainly worthy,” she offered.
“I guess. Too bad she barely recognizes me half
the time.”
“Ouch.”
“She left, too, just in a different way. Checked out in her head the way most everyone else has booked it out on two feet or four wheels.”
That was why it felt weird to be asking Kim to stay. And it’d be a nasty kick in the nuts when she did as any sane woman would, and left Fortuity and Vince to resume her normal life. A kick he could see coming a hundred miles off.
“I lost my mom, too,” Kim said. “When I was twelve.”
“Oh? How?”
“Cervical cancer.”
“Sorry to hear that. Must have been rough.”
“Yeah, it was, but that was sixteen years ago . . . though my dad’s never gotten over it.”
“Hard to imagine which is worse . . . a loved one getting taken away by illness, or choosing to do the leaving themselves.”
Kim looked struck by something. “Miah never left you.”
He shook his head, chest loosening. “Nope. He never did, though he’s got his own reasons to stay, loyalties that go way beyond our friendship.”
“What about Nita?”
He smiled at that. “Yeah, she’s different. She’s the only true exception to the rule . . . Though much as I’m glad she’s here, I also know she’s not staying for me.”
“That stuff you mentioned . . . your supplemental income.”
“What about it?”
“Bookmaking, you said?”
“Mostly that, and the collection that goes with it. Plus the odd bit of mercenary work.”
She blinked. “Meaning?”
“Somebody’s mother or brother or friend doesn’t like the way her man’s treating her, maybe. They might want to pay me a few hundred bucks to set him straight.”
“Yikes.”
He shrugged again. “It’s decent money. And frankly, I’m good at it. Plus, the sorts of guys I get hired to work over . . . Let’s just say they’re not the types to want the law to get involved. Which plays nice with my parole.”
“Please tell me you only do that stuff to help pay for your mom’s care.”
“Sorry, sweetheart.”
She sighed. “For what, then? Beer and bike parts?”
“Savings, so there’s something in place for my mom, if anything happened to me. So you’re partly right. But for other things as well.”
“Tell me.”
He felt all squirmy inside, talking about this. “It’s mostly favors I do for the families of guys I know, decent men who need help. Mostly guys I met in prison. Somebody’s wife needs a car, or some sleazebag needs to be put in his place, somebody needs money to keep from getting evicted. I do the things those guys would be doing themselves if they were out. Call in the loans when the next favor needs doing.”
“Why?” she asked.
Why. A question he’d never really considered before. Wasn’t as if he couldn’t use the money himself. He answered her, hoping his joking tone might camouflage the fact that it was the truth. “Guess maybe I just like feeling important.”
He was trapped in Fortuity until his duties as caretaker came to their natural conclusion. A good, selfless son would hope he was in for a long wait, that his mom would live for ages in relative comfort. A bad son would guiltily hope she’d go sooner rather than later, so he might stand a chance at some independence while he was still young enough to enjoy it. His bitterness toward his brother flashed at that. Casey had been worse than bad, not just leaving, but having nothing to show for all that freedom. No family, no career, just a string of dysfunctional romances and no professional accomplishments legal enough to grace a résumé. If Vince’s turn to pick up and move on came tomorrow, he wouldn’t waste it like that. Not a minute of it.
But he also knew, his turn wasn’t coming. If there was anything you could count on from a Grossier male, it was that they’d let you down. Filial devotion aside, Vince did it all the time. With lovers and employers, always pushing to prove what he knew to be true—that no one sticks around.
And maybe that was the real why of Vince’s side projects. Some chance to be reliable—to prove to himself that he could be.
Must be nice, he imagined, being that for a good woman. Probably felt as nice as pushing one away felt shitty. Maybe he’d even find out for himself one day . . . maybe.
They lay without speaking for ages—a half hour or more. Vince drifted in and out of thoughts and near sleep. People joked about men passing out after sex, but he’d always been too busy trying to disentangle himself. Funny how Kim had just brought up love and his personal issues, yet the flight instinct lay dormant. Felt nice, just wallowing.
Shit . . . He could stay away for one night, surely. Casey could handle their mother until daybreak, with Nita on call. Plus, Kim could probably use a few hours’ break from Fortuity. They could get back to the stress of her scanning the streets for those two mystery men tomorrow. Plus, he’d paid for this room. Might do him good, clear his head. Change of scenery, and they sure as shit wouldn’t waste the next dozen hours. He’d take her again, as many times as she’d let—
Brrrzzzz. His phone vibrated, jingling the zipper of his jacket. When he sat up and pulled the thing out, Casey’s name blinked on the screen. Brrrzzzz. He hit TALK and left the bed.
“What’s up? How’s Mom?”
“When’re you home?” Casey asked, making a load of noise in the background. Vince heard the beep of the microwave being programmed, the whir of it coming to life.
“Tomorrow,” he said. “Early.”
“Whoa—what?”
“I’m in Elko. Kim needed to return her rental car. I told you I had shit to take care of.”
“Well, Nita wants you back ASAP.”
“Why? What’s wrong?”
“Mom’s all agitated. She’s been asking for you for two hours now. Nita says she won’t get to sleep unless she sees you.”
Shit. He knew that mood, too. When she fixated, nothing would calm her down except getting just what she was after. “Fuck . . . Fine. Gimme two hours.”
“Cool. Oh—and grab some toilet paper, Nita said.”
“Jesus. You can’t drive to the store and get it yourself?”
“We’re about to play canasta. Mom’s way into it. It’s the only thing getting her mind off when the great and powerful Vince is getting home, because as far as she seems to know, she’s only got one son worth remembering.”
Vince sighed to himself, torn between annoyance and a pang of pity. That shit was bound to sting. “Christ.”
“So fetch some fucking ass-wipe, Mr. Important. I gotta go entertain some crazy old woman who thinks I’m here to fix the cable.”
Casey hung up, and Vince eyed Kim through the open bathroom door, finger-combing her messy hair, her naked body feeling too far away from his. A heavy breath swelled and dropped his ribs. So much for those delusions of a night off.
No rest for the motherfucking wicked.
• • •
The night was dark, the wind harsh, stinging more with every mile as the bike carried its riders closer to Fortuity. Closer to all those shapeless troubles and nagging questions, the faces of dangerous men. Farther from that soft bed and clean room, and that startling sex.
Kim hugged Vince tighter around the middle, and despite the noise and speed and the stress, she could just about drop off to sleep against him. The orgasms didn’t hurt, of course, but it was his solidness that did her in. Much as this man confounded and even annoyed her, her body took unmistakable comfort in his. And after everything they’d just done . . .
She’d been wrong. Wrong to assume he’d be selfish, pursuing her with all the cold predation of a lion mauling a gazelle. Now that she’d felt the practiced stroke of his tongue and fingers, and knew precisely how turned-on he’d gotten, making her come . . . He was a giving lover, in his own cocky way. If Vince was selfish, it was purely in how fully he wanted to master a woman, during sex. And that was a breed of male pushiness she could actually get on board with.
He
turned them off the highway and onto the quiet route that wound along the mountains and into Fortuity. The moon was nearly new, just a sliver, and after a half mile of almost perfect darkness, the first artificial star appeared—a porch light, then another, then more, growing closer together as they reached Fortuity proper.
They turned left onto Station Street and cruised down the main drag past Benji’s, and she was relieved he didn’t stop. She wanted to spot the men she’d eavesdropped on as much as anyone, but the thought of snapping back into red-alert mode was exhausting. Not tonight. Not after what they’d done in Elko. Besides, it had to be past midnight by now. She wanted to go to sleep thinking of nothing aside from Vince’s voice and body. Maybe have a glass of wine with Christine Church, if she was still up, or another hot bath. A quiet end to a long night, before the bizarreness resumed in the morning.
They passed under the town’s lone traffic light, heading east toward the ranch. Over his shoulder Vince said, “Gonna just drop you off, if that’s all right. Things sound tense at home.”
“Sure.” Yeah, of course. She’d not been imagining this . . . whatever this outing had been, extending beyond the Churches’ front lot. So why did her heart feel chilly, hearing the end was officially nearing?
The constellations of Fortuity faded back into blackness, Vince’s headlight cutting through the dark until the lit windows of Three C appeared in the distance. Her stomach gave a flip as she wondered if they’d kiss. Crazy how loaded that possibility felt, even after everything he’d done to her a couple hours ago.
He cruised through the tall gate and eased them to a stop just inside. “Gotta make you walk the rest of the way, otherwise my engine’ll wreck everyone’s beauty sleep when I take off. Sorry.”
“Of course.”
She let him go, missing his warmth as her numb feet found the ground. He stayed straddling the bike, looking in the weak cast of the porch light like the manliest thing she’d ever conceived of. Since when had this become her type?
Since the second he first kissed me.
The night suddenly didn’t feel so cold.
“Thanks for this,” she said. “For helping me get my car back.”