A Brother At My Back

by A. J. Downey

  It was a struggle for me, making sure I was a decent man and not pushing her, but at the same time, not giving her the idea I was disinterested. Her job made things a little complicated for me in that arena. I didn’t ever want her to feel like I was one of the men that frequented her club. I wanted her to always know she was more to me than a perfect pair of tits. She was so much more than an object to be ogled.

  I went over to the closet and fished through, finding a clean tee of mine and handed it to her as she stepped out of my bathroom wrapped in the towel I’d had in there.

  “Here you go,” I told her. “Go by the fire and stay warm, eh. I’ll get us some food dished up. Got you some more tea already.”

  “Thank you, I really appreciate this. I know you weren’t expecting we’d wind up here and I can’t tell you how grateful I am that you’re cool with my being here.”

  “Ah, yeah, nah; don’t mention it, eh? I like having you here with me. I just wish I had more to my flat than this.” I waved a hand around and she turned and took in the Spartan flat with a charmed half-smile.

  “I like the minimalist look and feel,” she murmured. I laughed and she moved off toward the fire, sitting down on the edge of the made-up mattress on the floor, wrapped in the towel, setting my tee on the bed by her hip. She fished through her bag coming up with a tube of lotion of some kind and flipped back the cap. I ladled up soup into a couple of bowls and was suddenly mesmerized by her as she smoothed the loose cream onto her long legs.

  I confess, I set the bowl down and leaned on the bench, watching her as she completed the simple act of moisturizing her skin, pulled on a pair of hipster panties, and slipping my shirt over her head before letting the towel fall out from underneath it. I bowed my head and closed my eyes nodding to myself, my thoughts leaning towards not being able to hold out much longer. I wanted her, but I also wanted the time to be right, too.

  She was staring into the fireplace, transfixed, almost hypnotized, smoothing a different, fragrant hand cream into her hands and wrists, up her arms when I sat down next to her. I handed her one of the bowls when she was done.

  “Thanks,” she murmured and stirred the soup with her spoon.

  “My pleasure, eh.”

  We ate in a comfortable silence for a while and I liked that she didn’t hide the scarred side of her face from me anymore. That she was comfortable enough to leave her hair pulled back into one of those clip things in a messy bun.

  She was the first to break the silence by saying, “Italian Wedding is one of my favorites,” and I smiled.

  “Yeah? Wasn’t something I knew about until I came here; Sunshine, Trigger’s woman makes a mean one. The canned isn’t as good but it’s not bad.”

  “I make a really good homemade vegetable soup.”

  “Ah, yeah? Where’d you learn that?”

  She laughed slightly, “The internet. I taught myself to cook for the most part. It was either that or starve.”

  “Cooking out of self-defense,” I said with a laugh. “I like it.”

  “I never thought of it that way,” she said with a rueful smile, bringing the bowl to her lips and drinking some of the broth. “I like it too,” she said after swallowing.

  I was mesmerized by just about every movement she made. She had a natural grace that most women didn’t possess and it was something else. She sighed a healthy, satisfied sound and rose gracefully to her feet, taking her bowl with her.

  “Tea is in the kitchen on the counter, just there.”

  “Oh, excellent,” she remarked. She stood at the sink and washed out her bowl. I stood up with mine and went over to wash it, but she took it from my hands and did it for me.

  It gave me idle hands which I put to her slender hips, stepping up to her back and pressing my lips to where her neck met her shoulder where the stretched neckline of my old tee left it bare.

  She sighed out, her body relaxing back into mine, her hands covering mine and pressing them to her stomach where they’d ended up. She moaned slightly, one hand disappearing from the top of mine, touching lightly along the side of my neck as she encouraged what I was doing. Turning her head, questing for our mouths to meet.

  Her kiss was sweet as, and I felt my desire for her spike, spiraling high and tight, sending me soaring. I spun her in my grasp and kissed her proper and her arms wound around my neck and shoulders, hands pressing gently, cradling the back of my head holding my mouth to hers.

  The heat between us was something, really. Enough that I was pretty sure my clothes needed off. She clung to me, making these soft little whimpers of want against my mouth and I lifted her easily. Her long legs wound around my hips and I backed her up, sitting her on the edge of the sink, letting my passion carry us both.

  She was into it, and I was so into her but something held her back. She moaned into my mouth and it held that quality of wait. I slowed my kiss but didn’t want it to end but when she pulled back, I let her.

  “Not like this,” she gasped, “Not like this.”

  “Right,” I murmured and backed off, letting her go. Chest heaving with the breath she’d stolen, I maintained my self-control – barely. I took myself to the bathroom to regroup and take a cold shower.

  15

  Tiffany…

  He walked away so abruptly it felt like a knife driven into my chest. It felt like a very real physical thing, like a small part of me was torn away as I watched his broad back walk away. He went into the bathroom and all but slammed the door.

  I climbed down off the kitchen counter and went over to the window, resting my forehead against the glass as the shower started up. I squeezed my eyes shut and concentrated on getting my breathing back to normal, all the while kicking myself.

  I hadn’t meant stop completely, I had just meant exactly what I’d said… not like that. Not on the counter. Not him, not like I serviced all my fucking johns… I wanted better for us. I wanted something real that didn’t remind me of work. Instead, I’d done what I always did. Fucked things up six ways to Sunday.

  The water shut off and the bathroom door jerked open and I turned, leaning my back against the wall beside the window.

  “I didn’t mean stop completely,” I said, and couldn’t hide the hurt. “I just meant not on the counter, not like that.”

  He straightened a bit and understanding dawned on his face which went slack with that classic look which he voiced in the next sentence.

  “I’m a right idiot, aren’t I?”

  I shook my head and said, “No. If anyone is, I am for getting into the line of work I do in the first place, but then again, I never counted on someone like you coming along.”

  He frowned slightly and came over to me, taking my hands in his, the towel sitting tantalizingly low on his hips.

  “And what’s that supposed to mean, eh?”

  “It means I thought this would be a lot different, I suppose. It means I thought that…” my voice trailed off and I looked at the floor. “It means I thought that I would always be alone, I guess.”

  “Me, too,” he said and I looked up sharply into his eyes. “Look at us, eh? Just two lonely souls.” He pulled me to him gently and I didn’t resist. How could I, when all I wanted was to be in his arms?

  “I’m so sorry,” I whispered and he brought his mouth down to mine.

  “Don’t be,” he whispered and kissed me.

  I closed my eyes and lost myself in it. Wishing ardently that we could just go to bed. Apparently, Nik had the same idea, but not quite.

  “Let’s go to bed, get some sleep, eh.” He smoothed a hand down my hair and cradled my cheek, running a thumb over it in that way that made me feel appreciated and cherished. Except he was pulling back, I had ruined the moment and all I could do now was nod dumbly and drift along beside him over to the made-up mattress on the floor, in front of the fire. He got in first, pulling me down in front of him so that I was closer to the cheery blaze in the grate, tucked back into the larger spoon of his body so that we could
both watch the flames.

  “I’m so sorry,” I murmured and he kissed my shoulder where the neckline of his butter-soft tee gaped.

  “Don’t be, there’s all the time in the world for us and the best things in life shouldn’t be rushed.”

  It was the right thing to say, stripping away some of my guilt and allowing me to relax into him. We didn’t really speak after that, just simply stared into the crackling fire. I closed my eyes, warm and safe in his embrace and I felt the spinning hamster-wheel of my thoughts finally begin to slow.

  Sleep wasn’t long to follow.

  * * *

  I twisted under his grasp, hand around his wrist, trying with all my strength to keep his hand and what was in it back away from my face but he was just too strong! The jagged edge of the bottle dragged against my flesh and sharp pain flooded my cheek. I struggled against the weight of him on top of me and opened my mouth to scream…

  “Shhh, shhh, shhh, hey! Hey, wake up now, Girl!”

  My eyes flew open and I struggled still, but it was the comforting weight of Nik’s body over mine replacing Silas’ sinister presence from the past, from the flashback or dream.

  I whimpered, and Nik’s gentle hands smoothed my hair out of my face as he shushed me gently over and over. I sucked in a deep breath that rattled back out of me on a broken half-sob. His lips touched mine and his body pressed mine flat on the bed and I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and clung to him.

  “You’re all right now, just a bad dream,” he soothed.

  Except it wasn’t a dream, not exactly anyway. It was a memory, and it could be my future too, and I said as much, hating how broken and whiny my voice came out, but the fear was a palpable thing and just not ready to leave me.

  So he kissed me, pressing his body against mine and protected me, and I don’t know how he did it, because how do you protect someone from something that is inside of them?

  I kissed him back and held him tightly to me, running from the tumult of emotions raging inside, right into the stillness, the togetherness that he projected. He was so sure of himself and that everything would be okay and I so wanted to believe him. I wanted to believe him with everything that I was.

  I moaned as he ground his lower body into mine. Somehow he’d gotten between my thighs and oh, how I wanted him to be there. I’d been having plenty of sex but I was starved for the attention and affection he was giving to me. I wound my fingers in his long hair and held it back from his face. I couldn’t remember when he’d pulled it from his ponytail, but I knew he generally did to sleep.

  I kissed him back, wrapped my arms and legs around him and met his grinding with thrusting urgent rising of my hips. Insistent, wanting, desperate to be with him in every way that counted. The floodgates were open, my heart was open, and I wanted to let him in so badly… and for once I wasn’t afraid. I knew, instinctively, that Nik would never raise a hand to me. That he would never hurt me intentionally.

  I tore my mouth from his and begged him, “Please.”

  He reached off the side of the bed and came back with a wrapped condom, tearing it open with his teeth, breaths heavy and passionate. He reached between us and rolled it on, shoving his underwear down and off; hands going to the waistband of mine.

  He pulled them down my legs, sweeping them off and dropping them somewhere behind him, pulling the blankets up around us to stave off the chill of the apartment. I didn’t care about it. I cared about being skin-on-skin with him. I cared about being as close as possible, so I quickly grabbed the hem of his loaned tee and pulled it off over my head.

  He dry-humped me, his cock sliding tantalizingly against my pussy and I kissed him, the urgency to have him inside me rising. We kissed, breath heavy and laden with a desire and passion too heavy to hold in our lungs.

  He braced his arms to either side of my head, his hands smoothing strands of hair from my face, dark eyes meeting mine, the tenderness in his touch, the look on his face almost had me completely undone and then he slid inside me.

  I cried out, it felt so good, and wrapped my legs around him, my hands drifting up and down his back, urging him on, but he took his time, slow and deliberate with every stroke. Every movement was laden with his intention to love me and I died a little death, gladly, in his arms.

  It was perfect. Just so perfect and he felt so good. I felt good, and I loved it, needed it, and was so grateful for it.

  “Don’t stop,” I begged breathily, “Please don’t stop!”

  “Never,” he growled lightly against my lips, and I swear it felt like I was falling forever but I wasn’t scared. I had no reason to be scared. I knew he would catch me.

  16

  Zeb…

  I made love to her for a couple of hours, our bodies entwined under the covers; warm despite the chill in my flat from the fire going out. We’d gotten decent sleep. Her nightmare at least allowed for that, hitting her close to when we needed to be up anyways.

  I was so wrapped up in her that I didn’t hear my phone buzzing across the floor by the bed until the second time it went off. I swore and slipped out of her, reaching for it as she covered her mouth with her hands, eyes sparkling with the smile that she hid.

  “What is it, bro? I’m kind of busy,” is how I answered.

  “Yeah, and we’re out here freezing our nuts off, wondering where the fuck you’re at. Or did you forget we were supposed to be teaching your charge how to shoot today?” Trigger sounded irritated and I felt a bit sheepish.

  “Ah, yeah, nah, Bro, I didn’t forget. Just got a bit distracted is all.”

  “Distracted, right, that’s great. Will you hurry your ass up and get out here? We ain’t got all day, and it’s fuckin’ cold as shit out here.”

  “Point Nowhere, yeah?”

  “Yeah, ain’t got no goddamn heat, so move it, would ya?”

  “On our way, sorry again.”

  I looked down at Tiffany who was smiling at me, her hands moved from her mouth and to my shoulders.

  “I take it we missed our appointment?” she said, and I bent my head to kiss her again.

  “Yeah, but they’re waiting. Bundle up, it’s going to be a cold ride and there’s no heat where we’re going.”

  “Lovely,” she said rolling her eyes and I could tell she was about as done as I was when it came to the cold outside.

  “Gives me an excuse to warm you up when we get home,” I pointed out.

  “You don’t need an excuse,” she said, and I smiled at her and moved off of her. She sat up and sighed, a contented sound.

  We got cleaned up as best we could without taking a shower and got dressed. She layered up and so did I. Winters in this area were no joke and the bitter cold made me miss home and the summertime there.

  “Ready?” I asked her and she looked longingly back to the bed for a minute.

  “As I’ll ever be,” she declared and followed me out into the blistering cold.

  I’d never wished for a cage as much as I did then. We couldn’t get the bike up the long track into point nowhere, so we’d parked it on the side of the road and Reaver had driven his truck down to the bottom to pick us up.

  Tiffany sat stiffly between us as he drove us back to the top where Trigger waited by an old oil drum, hands outstretched to the fire he and Reaver had going in it.

  “About fuckin’ time you got here,” he mumbled around a cigarette. A real one, which told me just how irritated he was.

  “Sorry, bro,” I said, and he raised an eyebrow and nodded.

  Tiffany slid out of the truck behind me and I shut the door. Trigger got a good look at her and his eyebrows went up.

  “All’s forgiven,” he said and gave a nod. Yeah, I figured he’d understand it when he saw her.

  “I’m Trigger,” he said and took a final drag off the cigarette he shouldn’t have been smoking and flicked the butt into the flames licking at the edge of the barrel.

  “Tiffany, most people just call me Tiff.”

  “Nic
e to meet you, Tiff. That there is Reaver. You ready to learn how to shoot?”

  She shifted from foot to foot in the white powder at the top of the drive and let her gaze wander over the sheet metal building and snow-covered hulks of cars scattered at its base.

  “Truthfully, no. I’ve never liked guns. They scare me.”

  “Humph, ain’t nothing to be scared of. C’mere, let’s start with the basics.”

  She swallowed hard and drifted over closer to the fire and stood a good two feet away from Trig. Reaver walked up to me and knocked his shoulder into mine, grinning.

  “Banging the stripper, huh?”

  “It’s not like that,” I said and didn’t take my eyes off her. His teasing smile melted right off his face, from what I could see out of the corner of my eye.

  “No, I can see that now, sorry.”

  “It’s all good, Bro.”

  “Trig will get her straight,” he said with assurance, and I nodded. “That’s not what you’re worried about, though, is it?”

  “Nah, I’m more worried about her learning what you can teach her. This ex of hers ‒ from everything she’s told me, he likes to get up close and personal-like.”

  Reaver nodded. “If she’s scared of guns, they aren’t going to be much use to her.”

  “Too right.”

  “How far have you and Mali gotten?”

  “Not far yet.”

  “When’s her next lesson on hand-to-hand?”

  “Tomorrow.”

  He grunted and gave a nod. “I’ll be there.”

  I felt some relief. “Thanks, Bro.”

  “Any piece of shit that can do that to a woman’s face… I’d like him to meet my blade.”

  “Yeah, me too,” I agreed.

  “Come on this way, you two,” Trigger called out and we trudged over to them through the snow.

  “You ready to shoot that thing off?” Reaver asked, grinning.

  Tiffany shook her head no but said: “As I’ll ever be.”