by Max Henry
“How can ya love me? After all I’ve done? After all I’ve—”
“You’ve shown me so damn much about myself, Pete.”
“But I thought—”
“And I was wrong. Yeah, it’s been hard for me to express myself so openly. I guess I’ve always known what I wanted; I just never had the guts to ask. But with you ...”
“Ya don’t need to ask,” he finished. He satisfied the urge to brush her cheek as she smiled. Here he was, sure his destruction of her was pure selfishness on his behalf, but the whole time it had been for her—what she needed. “Even so, Cutie, appreciation isn’t love.”
He caught the flare of her nostrils, the tear in her eye. “You want to know what tells me I love you?”
He nodded.
“Every morning when I wake up, I wish you were there beside me to make me feel beautiful, so that I had the guts to face the day head-on. When you walk away from me, I want to run after you and grab hold of you, never let you go. When you look at me, I wish I could freeze time, and experience the thrill it gives me deep in my chest, forever.”
“But all we do is fight. Half the time I wonder if you’d be better off without me.”
“We only fight, Pete, because we care. If we didn’t care, we wouldn’t have the passion to fight for what’s right.”
“And what’s right?” he asked, afraid the answer would be something he could never deliver to her.
“Us.” She smiled.
“And ya wonder why I’d kill for ya,” he teased.
She scrunched her fingers in his hair, and tugged him closer. “Don’t push it.” Her bright smile faded like dawn light over the horizon of her face. Darkness replaced the earlier joy. A single tear roamed the soft flesh of her cheek.
“Jesus, I’ve done it again,” he hissed.
“What?”
“Upset ya.”
“No you haven’t.” She shook her head.
“But yer cryin’.”
She giggled, broken with a snort. “Because I’m happy, you big doofus.”
“Doofus,” he mimicked.
“Shut-up.” Steph lashed out a soft fist, and smacked him square on the shoulder.
Pistol growled, and grabbed her by both wrists. She startled, but he was determined to show this stupidly insecure woman what she meant. He’d fuckin’ well have her, but he’d stun the hell out of her by how he’d do it.
He’d show her how much he loved her.
Steph squealed as Pete dug his hands under her ass, and rose from the couch with her in his arms. His eyes darkened, and her body sparked to life in response. She didn’t even entertain the idea of showing indifference to his actions; instead she grinned like a lunatic as he carried her to the bedroom.
He kicked the door wide, and walked through with purpose before he tossed her onto the mattress. Steph sprung into the air on impact, and giggled like a pre-schooler in a bouncy castle. Her heart swelled as she watched his blatant determination, and her insides thrummed at the thought of what he might have planned. Would it be more rough-and-ready? Or something kinkier?
He stood at the side of the bed, hands on hips as he flicked his lip-ring back and forth. “So many things I could do to ya right now.”
“Then do them,” she challenged, and gave her best come-hither look.
“Nah,” he shook his head. “It has to be right.”
Steph waited as patiently as she could while arousal coursed through her body. “Anytime now would be nice,” she teased.
“Fuck. Don’t pressure me woman. I’m not used to thinkin’ like this.”
“Like what?” she asked, and drew to her elbows.
“Meaningful. Gentle.”
“Oh.” He wanted to be gentle, and he didn’t know how. Steph snorted.
“Oh, fuck ya,” he chastised. “Here I am, tryin’ to be all gentleman-like, and show ya how fuckin’ special ya are to me, and all ya do is laugh.”
“Come on.” She giggled. “It’s hilarious watching your cute expression as you try to think.”
“Ya want cute, huh?” he growled. “I’ll give ya cute.” He dived onto the bed, and held himself over her.
Steph drew her arms up to defend herself as she giggled. He ducked his head to her neck, and bit her. What the fuck? “You bit me!”
“Yeah,” he remarked. A shit-eater grin ripped his face in two. “Ya wanted cute. Well puppies are cute, and they bite.”
“Aww,” Steph teased. “Coochie-coochie-coo.” She tickled him under the jaw as she taunted him. The words acted as a red flag to the bull, but so what? The result was bound to be fun.
“Yer bloody askin’ for it, woman.”
“And you’re taking an age to deliver.”
He hooked his fingers in the waistband of her pyjama pants, and tugged. “How, me Love, am I meant to do anythin’ with this incredibly appealin’ item of clothin’ in me way?”
Steph scowled, and bucked him off to make room. He obliged, and she drew her pants to her ankles, then kicked them to the floor. “There.”
“Better ...”
“But?”
“Yer top’s still on.”
Seriously? Steph shook her head, and then rose up to tug the fabric over her head. He assisted when her arm got caught given the awkward angle she was on, still being underneath him. “Better?” she asked as it also hit the floor.
“Much.” His eyes fell heavy, and he made a show of looking her over. “Too fuckin’ sexy to keep covered around me.”
“You’re stalling,” she growled.
He quirked an eyebrow, and smirked. “Am I?”
Come on, surely he’s going to get naked, too? Steph grabbed a handful of his shirt, and tugged. “Off.”
He scooted back off the bed, and slipped the waistcoat over the shirt. Steph chewed her lip as she watched him strip, too absorbed in his playful reveal to pay any mind to her nudity. The white shirt fell apart as he freed the final button, and his colourful artwork lay in the open for her appreciation once more. So many pictures made up the various designs that she estimated it would take a week to find them all, but it was a week she’d gladly spend.
He tucked his thumbs into the band of his boxers, and paused. “All of it,” she demanded.
He waggled an eyebrow, then shoved the material down his legs, and kicked it aside. “Cutie wants, Cutie gets.”
“Cutie wants that,” she groaned, and pointed to his already thick erection.
“Cutie gets,” he growled, and launched himself on the bed once more.
Steph squealed as he hooked a hand under her back, and roughly tossed her further up the bed. She threw her arms around his neck, and drew him in for a fast, and frantic kiss. The action set the pace for all that would follow.
His palms kneaded her breasts as he kissed a fast trail down her stomach to her pelvis, where he sucked the flesh of her mound into his mouth, and swirled his tongue over top. Steph groaned, and fisted her hands in his hair. She held him in place as he licked her in several long, hard sweeps.
“Fuckin’ delicious,” he grunted, and then thrust two fingers in.
“Shit,” Steph wailed. The sudden intrusion damn near had her convulse on the spot. “Fuck, Pete.”
“I love it how ya don’t call me Pistol,” he muttered between licks of her folds.
“Why,” Steph breathed.
“It reminds me how close ya are to me heart.”
Steph bit down on her bottom lip as Pete increased the pace with his fingers. That, combined with his words threw her toward a freefall which had no foreseeable end. “Get in me,” she demanded.
“Cutie gets,” he reiterated as he drew himself over her.
She eyed his artwork, and ran her hands over his chest, then down his arms. Her jaw fell slack, and a moan pulled her chest tight as Pete rammed home. She growled at the fullness of him, and arched her back to tip her pelvis around him.
“Every time,” he murmured close to her ear.
“Huh?” Ste
ph managed between cries of bliss.
He drew her earlobe between his teeth, and bit down gently. “Every time I have ya, it’s as tight as the first.”
Oh. Was that a good thing?
“It’s like yer cunt wants to wrap its fist about me, and remind me who’s in charge.”
Steph smiled, and clenched her muscles.
“Jesus,” Pete moaned. “Keep it tight, and you’ll have me comin’ in seconds.”
“Wait.” Steph placed a firm palm against his chest, and he stilled. “Shift.”
He drew back, and she cringed momentarily at the loss of connection. He watched her flip to her hands and knees, and edge back into where he sat back on his heels.
“Ya want it like that, huh?”
She glanced over her shoulder at the glorious sight of him; flexed, aroused, and lust-filled. “Hard.”
He threw a flat palm out, and belted her across the ass-cheek. “Fuck, you’re perfect.”
Steph hissed at the burn of the slap, but followed with a groan as the pain heightened the feel of him re-enter. Pete thrust his hips with a grunt each time. Steph raised up, and gripped the solid headboard to anchor herself against his onslaught. She moaned at the way her body jolted with his force.
It felt incredible.
Subjects that had no business in her head at such a time littered her thoughts. She reminisced how Dave would never have been as adventurous as Pete. She also marvelled at how alive Pete made her feel. How could she have missed out on this all this time? Then again, maybe it was fate that she wasted so much time with Dave, otherwise maybe she would have never met Pete? Another slap to her backside brought her firmly back to the now, and she realised how tight her core was wound.
“Fuckin’ perfect,” Pete muttered.
The tension let go, and her entire body lost any semblance of control as every muscle fell victim to the high she soared on.
With a guttural roar, Pete came. He still twitched within her as he collapsed onto her back. “Jesus, Love. Ya sure ya need to go to work today?”
“Work!” Steph wriggled free of Pete’s embrace, and flew into the en suite.
“Hey,” he called after her. “What the fuck?”
“No time,” she hollered as she wrenched the taps on in the shower. “I need to get ready.”
The door opened behind her, and Pete stood in full naked glory, a silly smile on his face. “Did I leave yer head that scrambled?”
“What?” she asked wide-eyed as she stepped into the shower.
“It’s only six-thirty.”
Steph slouched under the water, and sighed. “Thank Christ. I thought I was done for.”
The steam dissipated as Pete opened the door to join her. “Of course ya are,” he said with a wicked grin. “What do ya expect when ya tear away from me like that?”
Despite the warm water that encased her, Steph shuddered.
Oh, hell.
“Ya better find yerself somethin’ to hold on to, Love.”
Steph checked the time on the microwave as she entered the kitchen. “I’m damn lucky I didn’t miss the morning in the office. I’m not sure how that would have gone down.”
“Fine, I imagine,” Pete assured. He leant a hip into the counter and watched as she made coffee.
“What did you say yesterday?”
“That we had somethin’ to celebrate.”
Steph flicked an eyebrow up. “Did we?”
“We’re talkin’ again, aren’t we?” He shrugged.
Steph crossed to where he stood as the jug boiled. “We are.” Her palms lay flat on his chest as she pushed to her toes to give him a quick peck on the lips. She moved back to finish the coffee’s, and posed the question. “What about your mother?”
“What about her?”
“When does she arrive?”
He sighed, and drew his arms across his chest. “Today.” The spite in his word left no illusions on his distaste at the idea. He took the coffee she offered.
“Do you want me with you?”
Pete shook his head so hard the coffee sloshed over the lip of the mug. He cursed, and changed hands so he could wipe the hot liquid from his arm. “No, Love. I’d rather ya never met her.”
“Fair enough.” Steph sipped at her cup, lost on where to take the conversation next. She couldn’t blame him for the need to shield her from his mother. As best she knew, she’d do the same if that was the kind of thing her mother had done. “You’re incredibly brave for seeing her, anyway.”
“I’m not gonna seek her out—she can fuckin’ well come to me.” He sipped at his brew as he scowled. “Ya want a lift to work?”
“That’d be great.” Steph smiled. He’d made the choice to change the conversation, and she was more than okay to run with it. The topic of his mother was an awkward one, and the kind of subject you can’t find your way out of once you start. “I’ll go finish getting ready.” He hummed into his mug, his eyes hooded, and she shook her head. “No coming in my room unless I say so, otherwise we’ll get nowhere today.”
His hand shot out and slapped her on the ass as she passed by. Steph squeaked in surprise, and giggled the rest of the way to her room. She couldn’t deny the sticky subject of his opinion on murder would remain a chink in his armour, but for now it was a subject she could happily turn a blind eye to.
As long as he never did it again, what did she have to worry about anyway?
****
Pistol finished the coffee, hot or not, and dropped the mug into the sink. He wandered about Steph’s place, and checked out the various pictures on the walls. A stab of unfairness goaded him each time he looked over yet another happy scene, but soon subsided with the sheer curiosity he found looking at pictures of Steph in her youth—before she changed to the woman he knew her as. In every photo, an attractive young girl stared back. Her sandy locks seemed to have natural sun-kissed high-lights, and the warm colour of her skin said she spent a lot of time outdoors. Then overnight, the woman in the photos changed into a colourful butterfly. The change so sudden that the rest of her family members didn’t look a day older, yet Steph—she changed monumentally.
What had happened to catalyst the change?
Pistol failed to shake the notion there was more to his princess than she let on, but he also knew how paranoid he could be. He pulled the slider open, and stepped into the back yard. He shut the door behind him, and drew a deep lungful of fresh air, then drew his smokes from his pocket. The packet faired reasonably well given he rested on it all night. He sparked a stick, and stood with his eyes closed as he worked the ember down to his finger, and thumb. The morning played out in his mind. First he would drop Steph off, then duck home for a shower, and change of clothes.
Then the real fun began. Then he hunted out his mother. Sure, he’d told Steph he wouldn’t. But he wanted the shit dealt with today—not tomorrow, or next week.
Today.
He still hadn’t decided how the conversation would go down between him and his mother, but one thing was for sure. He wanted that miserable bitch to feel the same pain he did. He wanted her to lament, and mourn the loss of her child or so help him; he would give her something equally as hurtful to think about. Colin’s wee face flashed in his memory, and he fisted his hands into the lapels of his waistcoat.
Pistol spun for the house, and stalled as his eyes fell on where Steph stood on the other side of the glass. She hadn’t noticed him; her back turned as she sorted out her lunch from the fridge. He watched the way her body moved beneath the day dress she wore, and swallowed away the lump of desire which wedged itself in his throat. She’s got to get to work. Let the woman keep her job.
The slider rattled in its tracks as he re-entered the house, and she looked over with a warm grin. “Better?”
“Marginally,” he replied.
She shook her head, and stuffed the Tupperware container of salad into her over-sized handbag. “I don’t know how you do it; smoke. I mean, I know I used to, but the taste�
��ugh. I can’t stand it anymore.”
His ego bruised at the knowledge there was a part of who he was she couldn’t stomach. He resolved on the spot to kick the habit, starting tomorrow. Today, he may need the distraction for his hands. Her heels clopped on the tiles as she darted about the house, and plucked random items to add to her bag. Why was it that women could never keep their stuff in one place? All tidy, and easy to find?
She stopped before him, a hand flat on his chest. “How do you manage to look so delicious in the same clothes you slept in?”
Lurid thoughts of her naked, and spread out over him left a smile on his lips. “How is it I can’t stop thinkin’ about bein’ inside of ya?”
Her cheeks flushed, and she stepped for the door. “Let’s hit the road before the rest of the traffic, huh?” She avoided the situation, but what of it? If she didn’t take control, he’d have her on her back, with the dress in another room entirely.
“Whatever ya like, Cutie.”
****
Steph opened the door to the rod before he had brought the vehicle to a full stop. Pistol caught her hand as she pushed from the vehicle, and she planted back into the seat, startled. “What?”
His fingers wrapped around her neck, and her balance tumbled into his body with the remainder of his self-control. Steph met his onslaught with a kiss of equal ferocity. She nipped his piercing between her teeth, and he groaned; his fingers tightened on her neck.
“What are you going to do for the day?” she asked.
He let his eyes fall over her alluring sight as she sat in the passenger seat of his rat-rod. Her aqua-green hair, and beautiful ink were classily set-off by the plain white day dress. His eyes trailed down her long legs to the ridiculously high heels she capped her best assets with. Steph’s legs were lick-able on any given day, but when she insisted on wearing those damn man-killers, he battled to keep his hands off her. “Hadn’t decided,” he answered.
“Do you think she’ll find you?”
His thoughts of how easily he could take Steph in his car flew out the open window. “More than likely.”
“If you need support ...”