by Roxie Noir
“You’re a badass,” he says, totally straight-faced.
“I usually didn’t pay him back, even when I said I would,” I admit. “I once wrote a paper for someone else for a hundred bucks.”
“I’m gonna call the cops,” he teases me.
“I streaked once,” I say.
Jackson grins.
“Go on,” he says.
“It was past a couple dorms,” I say. “I think I had one drink and someone said she thought I was boring, and I took the bait. It was just the once.”
The new beers come. We drink up. I’ve probably had the equivalent of two drinks, but it’s the most I’ve had to drink since I was eighteen, so I’m pretty drunk.
That’s probably why I grab his hand and put it on my knee, then slide it under the hem of my dress. He doesn’t move it up, but he doesn’t take it off, either.
“Nobody’s looking,” I say.
“I’m starting to think maybe you shouldn’t drink,” he says, a slow smile spreading across his face.
“I’m starting to think maybe I should drink all the time,” I say.
“Am I still supposed to keep you from doing something you shouldn’t?” he asks. “Because that ain’t fair, Lula-Mae.”
“Public,” I whisper.
“You put my hand up your dress,” he whispers back. “I’ll call you what I want, Lula-Mae.”
I can’t help myself. I slide my hand up his thigh toward the bulge in his pants, and he strokes the inside of my thigh with the pad of his thumb.
Just as my fingers are about to touch his cock, he takes his hand off my thigh and locks his fingers around my wrist, stopping my hand.
I try to move my hand up again, but he’s got his fingers locked around my wrist and I can’t move it. I try again. No matter how hard I try, he’s in control.
Holy hell, it’s hot. I feel like something just explodes into flames inside me.
I look at my hand and then up at Jackson.
“Let me go,” I say, even though there’s nothing I want less.
“Can you behave yourself?” he asks.
“Can I ever?”
I think I forget to breathe as I try to move my hand again and he still doesn’t let me, his strong hand around my wrist. Our faces are inches apart.
“You’re making it worse,” I whisper, my voice throaty and raw.
“Don’t try to talk me into doing something we shouldn’t,” he says.
“I wasn’t talking.”
“You’re impossible,” he says.
I kiss him. I press my lips to his gently and he presses back, hard and urgent. Then he pulls away.
“This is gonna end with you bent over a bathroom sink if you don’t stop,” he says.
“Promise?” I whisper.
I pull at my hand again but his grip is like a vise around my wrist.
“That’s a guarantee,” he growls.
I lean forward and bite his earlobe. I don’t give a shit that we’re in public. It’s not like anyone here recognizes us. We’re just some drunk people making out.
“That better not be an empty threat,” I say.
“When have I ever promised you a good fucking and not followed through?” he rumbles. It sends a shiver down my spine.
I swallow hard and squeeze my thighs together, like that will somehow make me less desperate to have him right now.
“Jackson,” I say. “Don’t be gentle.”
His hand tightens on my wrist. My breathing quickens.
“Right,” I say. “Like that.”
“Walk to the women’s room and don’t look back,” he says, and releases my wrist.
I take another swallow of beer for courage and then leave the table. I barely notice all the other people in the pub as I push past them, because all that matters is the pure, hot ache that’s filling my entire body.
The women’s room is empty, and by some miracle, it’s just a toilet and a sink, no stall doors. I don’t know what to do, so I grab a handful of paper towels and wipe the sink off, my heart beating so hard I’m shaking.
I throw them in the trash can. The door swings open and Jackson steps in, locking the door behind him. He’s got his blazer off, his sleeves rolled up, and an enormous bulge in his jeans.
We lock eyes in the mirror.
“I told you I couldn’t control myself,” he says, a smile around his eyes as he locks the door.
“Sorry,” I say, but he’s already behind me, his mouth on the back of my neck as he pushes my skirt over my hips and grabs me. I watch his fingers sink into my flesh in the mirror as he pulls me back against his erection, my hands still on the sink.
I make a noise and arch my back, trying to rub myself along his erection, even clothed. He runs his thumb along the thin fabric strip between my legs and I gasp, biting my lip to keep from making too much noise.
Jackson grabs the side of my thong and pulls hard, the muscles in his forearm bulging. After a moment it gives way and tears off and he spins me around, sits me on the counter. The marble is cool against me but before I can say anything Jackson’s head is buried between my legs and he’s sucking at my clit, flicking his tongue back and forth across it.
I lean against the mirror and put one hand on his head, stroking his hair as he eats me out, every swipe of his tongue sending a jolt of pleasure through my whole body.
“I love it when you eat me out,” I say. I close my eyes and lean my head back. “Jesus that feels good.”
He keeps going, sliding his tongue from my clit to my slit and back as I moan, edging closer and closer to climax as Jackson licks me.
“I’m close,” I whisper. “Fuck, Jackson.”
His tongue slows, and I hold my breath until he’s just tracing a slow circle around my clit, not even touching it any more. I hear myself whimper, but then he’s standing and pulling me off the sink.
Jackson crushes his mouth to mine and I can taste myself on him, even though I’m still feeling shaky and high from almost coming.
“I can’t see you without wanting to taste you,” he growls. “Every single time. You should know that, Lula-Mae. Every time we talk I think about putting my face between your thighs and licking you until you scream.”
He kisses me again, deep, and I can still taste myself.
“You’re a goddamn distraction,” he says. “You should be illegal.”
“Do you ever stop talking?” I ask.
I tug on his belt but he grabs my wrists in his hands and spins me around so I’m facing the mirror. My pussy throbs, hot and wet. I watch Jackson unbutton his pants and take his cock out in the mirror.
He strokes it once, slowly, and I watch him. There’s just something about a nice hand on a nice cock.
“Are you taunting me?” I ask.
“I thought you liked watching,” he says. He puts one hand on my lower back and leans into me, his lips against my ear.
“I can watch you jerk off from New York,” I say. “But I’m right here now.”
He slides his hand through my hair and then grabs a handful, just hard enough to pull my head back a little.
“Tell me what you need,” he says into my ear.
“I need you to fuck me already,” I say. “I’ve been waiting for this since last night.”
He pushes inside me with one hard, smooth thrust, crushing my hips against the hard marble. My eyes slide shut and long, low groan comes out of my chest.
“Holy fucking Jesus,” I hear myself say. He’s still holding my head by my hair, making me arch my back as hard as I can.
Usually we start off slow but not this time, because Jackson is already fucking me hard and fast and deep. I’m up against the sink and he’s completely in control. It’s all I can do to hold on.
“Is this what you wanted?” he asks.
“Yes,” I gasp.
“Balls-deep and bare in a bar bathroom?” Jackson says.
“Balls-deep and bare anywhere,” I gasp.
The heat is alread
y gathering in my core, and it’s not going to be long before I just explode.
“You’re dirty as hell and I love it,” he says.
We lock eyes in the mirror, his head behind mine. He’s pounding me, anything but gentle, and it feels so good that I think I might be splintering apart around the edges.
“Fuck me harder and make me come,” I whisper.
Somehow, he does, and I just moan as he thrusts impossibly deep.
“That hard enough?” he asks.
I just nod.
“Open your eyes and look at me while you come,” he commands.
I do. I lock my gaze onto him as he hits those perfect spots deep inside me, over and over again. I have to fight to keep my eyes open, but I do.
“Jackson,” I whisper, and he pulls my hair a little harder.
I come. I keep my eyes open but I feel like I’m exploding apart from the edges, my whole body just shattering at once.
“Fuck, Jackson,” I say again, because that’s all I can think of, jolts of pleasure wracking my whole body as I come so hard my vision goes white for a moment. “Fuck.”
I’m just barely aware that he lets my hair go and grabs my shoulders, because then he’s coming inside me in hard, urgent jolts, still looking at me in the mirror.
It takes a while before I realize he’s just muttering goddamn, Lula-Mae over and over again until we finally stop moving, his forehead resting against the back of my head. The sound of our breathing fills the little bathroom.
Jackson leans forward and wraps his arms around me, and I can feel his heart pounding, his chest rising and falling. Even though we’re in a bathroom and just fucked against a sink, I feel like everything in the world has suddenly gone quiet and still, like there’s just us in this moment.
I take one of his hands in mine and put it on top of mine, then lace our fingers together from below. One by one, I kiss his knuckles, pressing my lips to his skin over and over as our breathing slows, as my heartbeat slows. I feel strangely desperate to do something that will keep this moment from slipping away, but this is all I can think of.
He watches me like he’s about to say something, but he doesn’t.
24
Jackson
Mae kisses my knuckles. They’re scarred and fucked up and she’s doing it slowly but hungrily, like she needs to memorize every inch of my hands with her lips.
I have the strange, wild urge to tell her I love her, but I don’t, because we’re drunk and we just fucked in a bar bathroom and it’s probably not the best time. So I stand there and let her kiss me and hold her close, drinking in this moment in the hope I can remember it forever.
After a moment, she stops kissing my hands and laces our fingers together, then just looks at me with her perfect blue eyes. I’ve got my head against hers and I turn and kiss her on the temple, because even though we just had not-gentle sex in this bathroom right now I feel oddly protective toward her, like she’s delicate and fragile even though I know she’s not.
“Jackson,” she finally says. “What are we doing?”
Before I can answer, there’s a knock on the door.
“Shit,” I mutter, but Mae just starts giggling as she pulls her dress down.
“Just a minute!” she calls out.
A second later, we’re both nearly decent. Mae finds her broken thong, throws it in the trash, and swipes between her legs with some toilet paper. I look away as she does it, as if it’s not my fault in the first place.
Then I unlock the door and we leave. I nod at the annoyed-looking woman outside the door, and Mae tries to hide behind me, grabbing my arm and ducking her head. When we get back to the table, she’s still giggling, her face bright red. Our burgers still aren’t there.
“I think we got away with it,” she murmurs, reaching for another beer.
I just shrug.
“At worst, they’ll kick us out,” I say, and wink at her. “Drink up fast.”
We clink glasses again. I put my arm around her, and we both lean back into the booth.
“To not getting caught,” I say, and we both drink.
There’s a million things I want to say to her. I want to tell her that I started looking for a real house. I want to tell her that I’m dreading the day after tomorrow. I want to tell her that even though she’s here I’ve missed texting her stupid little things all day long.
I want to tell her how much I wish we could just be like this all the time, a normal couple doing normal things and also having sex in the bathroom. I wish I could tell the world that she’s mine, and I can’t. Not now. Not yet.
Mandy the Waitress comes with our burgers and we both chow down. We talk about the rodeo, about our days, like normal people having a normal relationship.
After dinner we walk around downtown Las Vegas holding hands. When we reach the end of the street, we stop. Mae puts her head against my chest and for a long time, we stand there and I just hold her.
“Jackson,” she says. “This is a real thing, right?”
I look where she’s looking, at the lights and neon and glitz, at the showgirls walking around and smiling wide at everyone.
“It’s as real as anything in Vegas,” I say.
She looks up at me and frowns, and suddenly I’m not sure I know what we’re talking about.
“I meant us,” she says, and looks back at the street, my arms still around her.
“You’re asking if we’re a real thing?” I say. “I think so.”
I have no idea what real thing means, but I’m pretty sure the right answer is yes. She doesn’t say anything.
“I thought we were dating,” I say, as something tightens around my heart. “I told my parents you were my girlfriend.”
“Oh,” she says.
Oh?
“What did you think was happening?” I ask.
She’s quiet a moment.
“I didn’t know,” she says. “You said you’re not seeing anyone else right now.”
“Just you, Lula-Mae,” I say. I squeeze her tighter and force myself not to think of her with someone else.
“Are you?” I finally ask.
Mae just laughs.
“No,” she says.
“I don’t know what I’m doing,” I tell her. “I haven’t had a girlfriend since high school.”
“But you got seventy-one rankings on Ride A Rodeo Stud?”
“How long until I live that down?” I ask.
“Sorry,” she says. “It’s just... I don’t know. It’s a big number and it feels hard to live up to.”
I kiss the top of her head.
“I had a lot of options and picked right,” I say. “No one else has ever gotten a picture of Flossie.”
Mae pauses.
“The goat?” she finally says.
“My favorite goat,” I say.
“Is that how cowboys tell girls they’re serious?” she asks, slowly. “They text them pictures of their favorite goats?”
“It’s one of the ways,” I say. “That or they take them on a tractor ride.”
“That sounds like a sex move you do outdoors,” she says, and I laugh.
“Come to Wyoming and I’ll take you on a tractor ride,” I tease.
“Will I have to stay in your jizz-covered trailer?”
“It’s just the kitchen table that’s covered,” I say. “I clean it off. Though I—”
I stop short.
“Tell me,” she says. “I want to know what I’m getting into.”
“It got on the ceiling,” I confess. “The first time you used the vibrator.”
Mae turns her head and leans her forehead against me, and I can feel her shaking with laughter.
“You’re disgusting,” she says, and I grin.
“Your fault,” I say.
We go quiet for a moment. Lights flash, and we can just barely hear the clang of machines from inside the casinos.
“I don’t want to leave and go back to Wyoming,” I say.
“We can
’t stay in Vegas,” Mae murmurs.
“I could move to New York,” I say.
“That’s a terrible idea,” Mae says. “I don’t even like it that much, and it’s got zero rodeos.”
I exhale.
“I started looking at real houses that aren’t a trailer on my parents’ ranch,” I say.
“Where?” she asks.
“Wyoming, but I only just started,” I say. “I can look anywhere.”
She doesn’t say anything.
“Photography is mostly in New York, right?” I ask.
Mae just nods.
“And rodeo is all out west,” she says, as if I didn’t know, and then laughs. “We’ve known each other for a month, we’re probably getting ahead of ourselves.”
“But it’s been a real good month,” I say.
“Yeah,” Mae agrees. She huddles closer to me. “You ready to head back to your room? It’s freezing out here.”
I put my jacket over her as we walk to the taxi stand, and she tries to give it back, but I just laugh.
“Let me be a gentleman for once,” I say into her ear.
“As long as it’s only once,” she says.
I slip my hand under my jacket and over her hip, then suddenly remember she’s not wearing underwear and grin. We get into a cab, and in the dark backseat I pull her toward me and grab her ass through her dress, then slowly pull the hem up.
“I almost forgot you didn’t have panties on,” I murmur.
“I didn’t,” she says, then smiles slowly. “Now I don’t have to take anything off.”
The taxi driver turns his radio up. Mae turns her eyes forward and slides her hand along my jeans, and this time I let her grab my erection and squeeze, the gold windows of the Mandalay Bay getting ever closer as my cock strains against denim for the millionth time that day.
“Do you have any idea what you do to me?” I ask.
“I’ve got a pretty good handle on it right now,” Mae says. Her eyes are sparkling, even in the dark.
I kiss her slowly, trying to control myself. She squeezes me again and I force myself not to groan.
“Dirty,” I whisper into her ear.
“I’m a nice girl,” she whispers back.
“I’ve never heard anything further from the truth,” I say. I push my hand between her thighs, even as she squeezes them together.