Shadows and Lies

by Eden Butler

  I hovered above her, my arms braced to either side of her, my bare chest snaking against her beautiful, full breasts, our nipples touching, rubbing and still she kept her hands over her stomach. I thought she’d stop me when I kissed down her chest, when I inched my tongue over her nipples, across her ribs, nudging her arms from her stomach. But she didn’t curl away from me or complain when I pushed her hands away. Alex moved her fingers through my hair, seeming to need something to do with herself as I returned my mouth to that flat stomach.

  There were three scars on each side of her navel. The marks were deep and had healed over the weeks, but they were never going to disappear. They were straight, made with something sharp, something piercing, and I had to close my eyes and suppress a shudder at the thought of what that motherfucker had done to her. But instead of reacting, or cursing, or asking questions I had no business asking, I kissed each one.

  “This,” I said against the first scar, “is gone now.” Above me, I heard Alex’s low moan, a sound that muffled between her wild pants and the cries she tried to pretend she wasn’t making. I continued kissing the others, using my tongue against the rough textured skin to show her I didn’t see any scars. I only saw Alex. My Alex. “These are all gone now.” And when her tears came loud and in the open, I looked at her and my heart twisted worse than the bullet in my shoulder back in Fallujah. I met her on my pillow, kissing her chin, her cheeks and wiping her face dry. “Last time, darlin’, okay?”

  “For what?”

  “That prick doesn’t get any more of your tears.”

  There was runny make up on her face, clotted under her eyes and a constant sniffle moving in her nose. She still looked like a fucking goddess. “Last time. Promise me.”

  Alex grabbed my wrist, squeezing it once. “Yeah, okay, Ryan. I promise.”

  “Good.” I stole a peck and got to my knees, stilling my hands on her hips. “Okay, get ready.”

  “For what?” she said, sniffling when I pulled her hips off the mattress.

  “I’m about to make you scream.”

  The Alex I knew broke through all those tears just then and a slow, sexy smile curled across her mouth. That grin made me heart beat double time. “Let’s see what you got, Boy Scout.”

  I ignored the cheap shot, loving that I could make her laugh, and loving how the laughter died quickly, replaced by moans and grunts and screams; and that the screams weren’t of fear, but of passion, of climax, of release. They weren’t only hers. Alex touched me like she meant it and I felt every deep rake of her nails, the soft, hot heat of her pussy wrapped around me, the damp breath of her voice urging me on when I took her harder and harder.

  We fit like a lyric and rhyme. We fit like song and dance and I knew, when I was buried deep inside her, when I thought my dick would explode—and when it did—when I thought I couldn’t possibly want another taste, another touch, another deep thrust of her hips as she rode me, that no one would ever fit me better than Alex Black.

  “Move your hips, darlin’, yes… yeah, just like that,” I told her, somewhere around three hours later, my body exhausted, but Little Brain being greedy, eager for more of this young, taut body. Alex moved on top of me, her inner muscles gripping me so tight I had to fist the sheet at my side to keep from coming right on the spot.

  “God, Ryan, fuck you’re so damn big,” she said, arching back so that her perfect tits were right in front of my mouth and her back almost made a semi-circle. “Ah, I could fuck you all night, baby.” And I laughed, because she’d never called me that, bringing her focus away from the pending orgasm. “What?”

  I sat up, making her shudder when I surged deeper and kissed her between those two flawless breasts. “You have been fucking me all night.” I helped her along, guiding her hips, watching her features—that soft, bright blush on her cheeks and the wide roll of her eyes as she closed them. “And you’ve never called me baby before.”

  “I will only call you that if you keep… keep…”

  And I took over, moving her small body up and down, eliciting the loudest moan and the wettest orgasm yet from her. Alex soared around me, like the fucking wind, light and indulgent and so damn open that I thought my chest would split apart just from the sight of her. Her skin shimmered with sweat, that tangle of thick hair slapping against my face as I continued to take her, as I held her close, fingers digging into her ass, wanting her closer, wanting to bury myself completely inside her as I came.

  We fell back together against my pillow, still tangled together, weak pants mixing like some sort of chant and I felt her heartbeat against my chest and rubbed my fingers against her back as we tried to come down.

  “My limbs are like damn spaghetti noodles right now.” Her voice was muffled against my neck and she didn’t move or pull away from me when I only grunted, contended, in response. But then Alex sat up and my softening dick paid attention to the feel of those tight muscle and the slick sensation of it still nestled inside her. “We should never stop doing that, Ryan. Ever.”

  “Sounds like a plan, but you gotta let me rest. I’m an old man.”

  “You’re only six years older than me.”

  “True, but darlin’ there’s a big damn difference between twenty-four and thirty.” I rested my hands on her hips, hoping my weak smile would ease any fear she might have about my ability to perform. “The spirit is always willing.”

  “But the flesh is weak?”

  “The flesh is fine, just not twenty-four year old fine.”

  She nodded, seeming to think of something as she watched me. Then, out of absolutely nowhere, she frowned. “You’re not gonna wanna make me get married and shoot out a bunch of little Ryans, are you?”

  “What?” I couldn’t help laughing, the idea had never crossed my mind.

  “Don’t laugh, asshole. I’m serious. You Boy Scout types like that kind of stuff. It’s how you’re all wired. Wife, kids, white picket fence.”

  I scrubbed my face, trying not to laugh. “I hadn’t really thought about it.”

  “Never?”

  “Not really.” I smoothed the small wrinkle between her eyes and Alex stopped frowning. “What about you? Shit, I can’t believe we’re even talking about this.” I had a semi and this beautiful crazy woman was doing her level best to make me lose even that.

  “I don’t do picket fences, Ryan. I don’t…” She tried pulling away from me, but I settled my grip on her hips to let her feel me hardening inside her. That cut off her list of Don’ts before they started and Alex melted against me, looping her around my neck. “You don’t fight fair.”

  “That wasn’t a fight. That was you looking for an excuse to run, right?”

  The bottom lid of her left eye twitched and I exhaled, shaking my head at whatever war was battling in that crazy head of hers. “So, you just want…” she asked.

  “I want this. Just you and me. I’m not thinking about a week from now or a year or when I’m an old damn man.” I held her face, wanting her to stop looking around me. “I want you, Alex. All the other shit is lagniappe.”

  “Why?” she asked, as if she genuinely had no idea why I wanted to be with her.

  “Because, you little brat, I love you.” I waited for her to get scared. I waited for her to make another stupid excuse or try to sucker punch me again and I even released her face, giving her an out if she needed it, but Alex didn’t move.

  In fact, the only thing she did was work a slow grin across her face. “You… you do?”

  I leaned back, sighing over the inevitable truth. “Yeah, darlin’, I really do.”

  “Well, how do you know?”

  “How do you not?”

  Alex shrugged, absently rubbing her fingernails against the sparse hair on my chest. “I’ve only ever loved Stevie. Maybe Isiah a long time ago.” I nodded, not wanting to push her into something she wasn’t sure of, but then her eyes widened and the grin turned into a full blown smile.

  “What?”

  “I just r
ealized something.” I tilted my head, waiting for her to finish then laughed when she bit her lip. “I didn’t want Timber to hurt you and I hated seeing you with that trampy redhead and, well, Evie…”

  “She’s just a friend.”

  “I know that now, but then, tonight, when I heard that gunshot and I couldn’t find you, shit, Ryan I haven’t been that scared since I found out about Stevie. I thought… well, I thought maybe I was having a heart attack.”

  “Because you thought I got shot?” She nodded and I pulled her against my chest, not caring about my hard-on. “Well I’m glad you didn’t have a heart attack.”

  “I’m glad you didn’t get shot.” My back aching, I turned to my side, resting her against me. I instantly missed the feel of being inside her. Alex watched me as I left the bed and threw out the condom, but stopped me before I left the room. “Hey, Ryan?” I lifted my chin, smiling at her. “I… I don’t know if I can say it.”

  I climbed back into bed, too eager to be next to her for anything else. I kissed her. “I don’t need to hear it, darlin’.”

  We settled down, the room quiet against and the smell of sex and fading perfume permeated around the room. Alex curled against me, her lithe limbs resting perfectly against my thigh and hip. And just as I began to doze and her breath evened out, Alex cleared her throat.

  “I can’t say it.” She took a breath, as though making a decision. “But I damn sure mean it.” And I fell asleep with a smile on my face.

  “Sorry, Frankie, not this time.”

  The big man stared at me hard, but I could only make out the sharp steel in his hazel eyes glaring at me under the brim of the black newsboy cap he wore. He didn’t believe me. Good. That’s exactly what I wanted. “Bullshit,” he said, holding a domino between his fingers like it was a weapon he intended on using. “No way you got anything.”

  I loved when people doubted me. How many times had I used the doe-eye act to work a big hustle when a tourist or, hell, even a seasoned player thought their hand was set or that the rack of dominoes edged the points higher in their direction? Frankie had the same doubting grin on his face, like I was just a gullible kid he’d easily make a few bills off of.

  Silly, Marine.

  I slid my last domino with three small white dots against his two and Frankie dropped the piece in his hand. “Son of a bitch!”

  “And that’s me with the bones, Frankie.”

  He kept staring at the line of dominos on the table and I can almost see him counting each dot, then referring back to our score count on the notebook at his right.

  “What? You think I cheated.” When he only shrugged in answer, still focused on recounting the scribbles in the paper, I flung a domino at him and pinged the asshat on the neck.

  “Watch it, woman,” he said, rubbing the red mark.

  “My God, you such a sore loser.” I tried to contain my laughter when Frankie started shoveling dominos back into the box, grumbling curses under his breath. Let him sulk. It’d serve him right. The jackass had gotten a broken rib from his tussle with Cosmo at the auction and when their client called in for a job, invalid Frankie had been landed with me. Something I wasn’t all that happy about, until the man started smack talking about babysitting Ryan’s “new piece.” With that, it had escalated into a challenge.

  He slammed the box closed and I snorted out a laugh, spotting the forming black bruise under his left eye. For a calm, cool Marine, and the real boss of their security business, Frankie had a short fuse.

  I left the man alone with his wounded pride, taking my beer to the front window of the office to look out onto the slow moving traffic. It was nearing the end of November and the city had already been decorated with wreaths around each light pole and covering the palms that lined Canal Street. I’d gone with Ryan earlier in the day to check for Minion at my place and grab more clothes and spotted the bright red bows on the lamps that guarded Jackson’s statue. I’d never cared much about Christmas or doing more than making sure I had a dry, warm place to crash every year. But this time, the holiday would be different. I wouldn’t be alone. I let myself smile over the thought, for the first time in my life not analyzing what that would mean a year from now or why someone like Ryan wanted me at all.

  “Biloxi is only a couple of hours away,” I heard Frank say as he walked up behind me.

  “They’ll be fine.” I wasn’t trying to convince the man of anything. He knew his brothers. He knew Ryan. He didn’t need me feeding him bullshit positivity about the gig they were working. But the target, that had me worried. “Ryan said this Malcolm guy is hardcore.”

  In my peripheral, I saw Frank nod, his eyes narrowed as he looked out the window watching a cab nearly run into the back of a white BMW. “He took Ryan down easy last time.”

  I didn’t need to hear that shit and I didn’t appreciate the tone Frank used, like he was purposefully trying to worry me. The beer was half empty after I finished guzzling and I knew Frank watched me. I could feel his gaze, and glanced at the frown like the more I drank, the more uneasy he became. “Listen…” he started, but I didn’t want to hear any excuses from him.

  “You got a TV in this place? Some movies or something?”

  That wounded male pride seemed to recover and the biting tone and constant glare on the man’s face eased as I moved back to the sofa, tapping my fingers on the glass. Frank limped away from the window, hands in his black slacks. “I’m an asshole.”

  I waved my hand, like he wasn’t giving me brand new information and Frank exhaled, slipping on the coffee table in front of me with his arms on his thighs. “I hate that they think I’m not ready for field work.”

  “Are you?” I didn’t mean it to sound like accusation, and I caught the brief snarl on Frank’s face, realizing that he thought that’s exactly what my question was.

  “I’m ready. I’ve been ready.” He rubbed the back of his neck like the muscles there were stiff. “I got sloppy the other night and let that big goon get one good shot in and then this…” he pointed to the bruise Ryan had given him just a few hours before, “well, I deserved that shit.”

  “I won’t disagree with you.”

  Frank stared at me, nodding, eyes in a squint like he was trying to read me, see how far he could push before I got worked up. That wasn’t a good idea. I was restless being there without Ryan. We’d spent a solid week locked up in his place, doing things to each other that were very, very immoral, possibly illegal and only had come up for air when Sammy called that morning to tell Ryan their client, Davidson, whoever the hell that was, had learned about a blackmail attempt against some Congressman. Ryan wasn’t going to take the gig, thinking that he needed to stay in the city to watch me, but them Sammy reminded him the target was Malcolm and Davidson had eyes on where he was staying. With a woman matching Dot’s description.

  “The guy who tried taking you out when you asked about Dot?” I’d asked him. And just the look on Ryan’s face told me all I needed to know. He had to find this guy. There was no way I’d ask him to stay behind.

  He hadn’t answered and I didn’t need him to. That look—frustrated frown that made him look older than his thirty years—was all the confirmation I’d needed.

  “Well, then. Go. I’ll be alright here on my own.” And then Ryan took me to bed, stripped me of his large rugby tee and began to remind me why I hadn’t wanted to leave his apartment all week.

  “Look,” Frank said, taking me from my thoughts, “I was pissed that I had to stay behind. I was pissed that asshole took a cheap shot at the cemetery and I was pissed…”

  “That I kicked your ass three times at dominos?” I smiled when Frank flipped me off, but then he laughed, shaking his head and some of his annoyance left him. He looked a lot younger when he laughed.

  “I shouldn’t have said that about you. I got no idea what you and Ryan are…”

  “No, you don’t,” I said, voice a little sharp so he’d know not to ask for details. Frank nodded, as if to
say “fair enough” and then smiled at me.

  It was a nice smile, on a nice face. None of Ryan’s friends were unattractive, none of course could hold a candle to Ryan, but they all had this pretty boy, rough neck vibe working for them. Frank, though, there was something in those hazel eyes, something that made me feel sorry for him. I knew he’d been injured while he was deployed, but Ryan had never shared the details and it wasn’t my business or my place to ask. Still, I’d seen the same looks in a dozen faces, most kids lost and alone on the streets, runaways or old homeless men—all had seen things they shouldn’t have, all were tortured by whatever horror they’d witnessed. Frank had that same look. He was attractive, he looked strong and fit, but those eyes were haunted.

  “You know, I’ve known Ryan a long time.”

  Frank’s voice followed me as I went to the kitchenette and grabbed a beer, nodded toward him and he moved his chin, confirming that he wanted one too. I popped both caps off and handed him one before I sat back down. “Is this the part where you tell me about all the cheap sluts he’s dated?”

  He laughed, clinking his bottle to mine before he drank. “No. Not Ryan’s style.” Frank shrugged, grinning about something I was pretty sure I didn’t want to know about before he continued. “Oh, don’t get me wrong, Ryan isn’t a prude, and let’s just say that girls love a man in uniform. He had his share. But as far as I know he’s only dated a couple of girls, all local from back in Cavanagh and only one of them for more than six months.”

  “Oh and what did Miss More Than Six Months have going for her?”