by Meg Jackson
Or maybe they're just talking while they wait for a drink, Ricky told herself to quiet the thudding of her heart, which had crawled halfway up her throat. As she approached, she saw Cristov had a plate of french fries in front of him and half a beer in his hand. Junior arrived and slid a Coors Light across the bar towards Jenny. But she didn't take it and walk away. She lingered.
Maybe she saw in Cristov the same thing Ricky did; namely, his rugged sex appeal and those too-gorgeous-for-real-life green eyes. Ricky slid onto the stool on Cristov's other side and waited to be noticed, catching the tail end of their conversation.
"...and I just think it is so cool how you're, like, a famous tattoo artist. Kingdom is kind of the pits, so it's crazy that people are coming from, like, all over to see you!”
Cristov's chuckle; was it polite? Or flirty? Ricky bit her lip trying not to care either way.
“I guess so,” he said, raising his glass to his lips, still unaware of Ricky's presence. “I mean, not all over.”
“Still,” Jenny said, leaning one elbow on the bar and resting her cocked head on her knuckles, a smile on her lips revealing those perfect teeth from ear to ear. Her eyes flashed across Cristov's profile and widened slightly when she saw Ricky staring at her. “Oh! Hey, Ricky?”
Ricky offered her a smile in return, not her best fake smile but good enough. Cristov turned quickly to look at her, surprise in his expression.
“Hey, Jenny,” Ricky said coolly before turning towards Junior, who'd materialized before her with all the grace of a seasoned bartender. “Whiskey coke, please. Well whiskey is fine.”
“Got it,” Junior said and turned to prepare the drink.
“Ricky,” Cristov said, now ignoring Jenny entirely. She pouted, no longer the center of attention, bringing the frosty neck of her beer to her lips for a delicate sip. Ricky hated that tiny sip. For some reason, she was unable to “sip” anything with booze in it. It was guzzle or nothing. Not that she should worry about that. It just meant she could keep up with the boys, right?
“So, we should talk,” Ricky said, pulling out a five to cover her drink, but Cristov motioned for her to put her wallet away. She let him pay; it was the least he could do after the favor he'd asked from her. When she had both hands wrapped around the little plastic cup, he lifted his basket of fries and his beer and motioned with his head for her to follow him to the less-crowded tables in the back of the bar. Ricky couldn't help but gloat over the expression on Jenny's face as he left her without a word of goodbye.
Settled into a circular table in the back corner of the bar, under a dartboard, Cristov cleared his throat as he looked at Ricky expectantly.
“So, I did what you asked,” she said, staring into her drink. “And you're not gonna like what I found. I mean, I don't think you'll like it. If you do like it...well, you're a very different guy than your brother, I guess.”
“Bad news?” he asked, twirling a fry in a dollop of ketchup. Ricky nodded.
“Really bad, if you ask me,” she said, daring a look at him and immediately regretting it. Shit, those eyes could make her forget the reason they were there! She was tipsy enough, a warmth radiating around the backs of her eyes, that she had an impulse to reach over and touch his hand. Not just touch it; grab it and pull him across the bar and out the door and back to her apartment.
One drink, she reminded herself, though when she looked down she realized her “one drink” was almost done for. Okay, two drinks...
She managed to keep herself in line for long enough to explain all she'd found on the Steel Dragons, pulling out a few choice articles she'd printed to demonstrate the depths of their depravity. Cristov's face grew darker and darker with each revelation. She should have been relieved that sex was far from his mind, but she was a little disappointed instead. Whenever she was around him, she felt a throbbing desire between her legs, and it wasn't exactly flattering to know that it was a one-way street.
“Fuck,” he murmured under his breath as his eyes scanned one of the printed pages. Ricky flagged down a passing waitress and ordered another drink for both of them, waiting for him to finish reading.
“So,” she said, squirming in her seat, “now I get to ask: why the hell did you ask me to look into these guys?”
He glanced up at her, guarded, his mouth moving in small circles as he seemed to weigh the situation. She hadn't thought he'd be happy to give up whatever hidden connection he had with the club, but they'd made a deal, and she intended to get her cut. If only because it meant he'd sit with her a little while longer...
“They're...uh, they're...shit, it's complicated, Ricky!”
She just sat back and crossed her arms across her chest. The waitress returned with their drinks and Ricky eyed hers with longing, but resisted the urge to break her stance. Screw his good looks and his sex appeal and his...everything. They'd made a deal, and Ricky was thirstier for answers than she was for booze. He stared at her with growing disbelief before sighing.
“You're not gonna give this up, are you?”
She shook her head.
“Well, I can't tell you everything,” he finally said, shaking his head as he looked down at his half-eaten fries. “But my brothers and I...well, we've got something going on here. And it's nothing serious, but it's not quite legal either.”
Ricky's eyebrow raised. Now that was interesting. Her mind began to race with possibilities.
“And these guys,” he said, jabbing the sheets of paper that sat between them on the table, “are trying to...uh...become involved. In a big way. They're threatening us, and what they want...well, what they want won't be good for anyone. For me, my brothers, for this whole damn town.”
Ricky wasn't entirely satisfied by this explanation. There were still a lot of holes in his explanation. Big ones. Like: what business, exactly? She knew that they'd been trying to get that strip club up and running; were they involved in some sort of trafficking? Then there was the fact that Kingdom had come into a marijuana boom shortly after the gypsy's arrival; it didn't take a genius to put two and two together on that front.
After a moment’s thought, during which she allowed herself a generous sip of her drink, she decided the latter was the more probable answer. And since Cristov wouldn't be coming forward with that information willingly...
“Is it drugs?” she asked straight up, setting her drink down and meeting him eye for eye. His face blanched and she knew she'd hit the nail on the head. Satisfaction and nervousness dueled in her heart. What kind of drugs, exactly, was Cristov involved in? Weed was one thing; she wasn't a fan, and wouldn't want to get involved with someone who was into that sort of thing (getting involved? Where did that thought come from?).
But if it was anything harder...she didn't know if she'd be able to keep that to herself. It'd make for a hell of a score as an investigational journalist if she could lead the police to people who were dealing heroin or coke or meth. And if Cristov and his brothers were involved with dirty stuff, she'd want to stop them. Hell, Kim was about to marry one of them!
“Listen,” Cristov hissed, leaning in close, his eyes darting around the bar as though a cop was about to jump out and cuff him on the spot. “We just grow weed, alright? We grow and distribute. Okay? Happy now? You got it out of me. Congrats. But if you go running around writing this shit up in your paper, it's not just me that's gonna get screwed and locked up. Kennick will...”
The panic in his voice cut Ricky deep. For once, she forgot about her job. She didn't want anything bad to happen to Cristov, or Kennick, or anyone, really. If it was just weed...well, no one ever died from smoking too much pot. And Kim had gone through a little stoner phase in high school, and come out fine. In the back of her mind, she wondered if part of Kim's attraction to Kennick was related to his business.
“It’s off the record,” she said with a sigh. That would have been a juicy story, but she would never throw Kim under the bus like that. Or Cristov, for that matter. “This is all off the record, for
now.”
“For now?” Cristov asked, one eyebrow raised. He flagged down a passing waitress and ordered a bacon cheeseburger and fries, as well as another beer.
“Yeah, well, the future holds many mysteries,” Ricky said distractedly. She gestured to the mostly-empty basket of fries in front of him. “Didn’t you just eat a burger and fries?”
“Well, sounds like I’ll need a lot of energy if I’m gonna be playing Superman against these assholes,” Cristov said with a grin. “And the fries are for you.”
Had he noticed how she was eying the greasy remnants of his first meal? She couldn’t help but return his smile.
“How generous of you,” she said. “But I wasn’t planning on staying that long…”
“Well, do you want me to get her to wrap them up for you?” Cristov asked. He was feigning indifference; poorly. Ricky sipped from her drink and eyed him over the straw. God damn, he was handsome. And being around him made her body rebel against her mind. He’d played her like a violin, and the song had been stuck in her head ever since.
“I can always make time for fried food,” she finally said, knowing that she was stepping into a trap. But she couldn’t tell whether it was Cristov who’d set it, or herself.
11
“Here we are again,” Ricky said as the door clicked shut behind her. “Though fuck if I know how you got me here.”
She was lying through her teeth, and she knew it. She knew just how he’d managed to get her back in his arms. It was the way he looked at her like he could remember every inch of her naked body, and wasn’t satisfied with memory alone. It was the way he leaned in close as their conversation drew to other topics. It was the fact that she’d let herself linger too long on what he’d already done to her, and how much she wanted it again. And then it was that hand on the thigh, and the reminder that he’d never gotten the ten dollars she owed him.
“Double or nothing?” she said, feeling like another person entirely as she did.
Now, as they stood in her dim living room, she turned to him expectantly.
“What?” he asked, eying her up and down.
“Aren’t you going to tell me what to do?” she said, her attitude melting as the words left her mouth. Had she really just said that? Was that what she’d become?
“I don’t know,” he said slyly. “I think I want more than money this time around.”
He approached her, slowly, deliberately. Her mouth felt dry. Her heart would have put a racecar to shame. God, what does he do to me?
“What...what do you want, then?” she asked, aware of the shaking in her voice but unable to stop it. When he reached forward, brushing a strand of hair from her face, she shivered and leaned into his touch, but he pulled away.
“Breakfast,” he said, fixing her with a grin that spelled doom for Ricky’s resolve. Her body wanted so much from him, things that no one had been able to give her until he came around and changed the whole damn tune of her life. Ricky’s best self was gone, leaving only need in its wake.
“Breakfast?” she repeated, tongue thick in her mouth.
“Breakfast,” he said, nodding. “No pushing me out the door.”
Ricky considered this. Breakfast was the future. She could deal with the future in the future. Just then, in that moment, there was one thing she wanted, and he was standing right in front of her. She nodded.
“Okay,” she said. “Breakfast. That’s it, though.”
“As you wish,” Cristov said, and stepped forward, so close she could feel his breath teasing the tops of her hair. “Now get on your knees.”
“That’s not how we started last time,” she said with a pout, and Cristov struggled to swallow his grin.
“Last time, you didn’t have this fuckin’ attitude,” he said. Ricky’s tongue darted across her lips, her eyes almost challenging him. But she was already down the rabbit hole; it was too late to turn back.
Dropping to her knees, Ricky’s fingers shook as they undid his jeans; he wasn’t fully hard, and as his jeans and boxers dropped to his ankles Ricky reached out to grasp his thickness. His hands found her head, buried themselves in her hair, and pressed forward. Almost out of instinct, Ricky opened her mouth, which had gone from desert to ocean as soon as she caught sight of his dick and remembered just how big it was.
Tongue out, she lapped gingerly at the head, gratified by the moan emanating from above her. His hips thrust forward and she took him in her mouth, feeling his cock swell and stiffen as she did. She ran her tongue along the bottom of his shaft, her lips suckling him, determined to prove she wasn’t chicken after all.
“That’s it, baby,” Cristov said. Ricky looked up and saw him watching her; heartened, she returned her attention to his now-erect cock, using her hand to reach all the places her mouth couldn’t reach. Moaning, she bobbed her head up and down, wetting the whole shaft with her mouth as her hand stroked him. She could taste a drip of precum as it slid down her throat, musky and warm and sexy. Cristov’s hands stiffened against her head, limiting her movement.
“Touch yourself,” he growled, and Ricky reached downward with her free hand, undoing her jeans until she could slip her hand into her panties. Already, she was wet, and as her fingers slipped between her lips and brushed her clit, she moaned, her mouth still full of him.
Slowly, Cristov increased the pressure on her head, until she found she couldn’t move her head at all. His hips took over, thrusting himself into her mouth as far as she could take him. Tears threatened to spill down her eyes, her nose breathing ragged, her body absorbed in the feeling of his cock filling her throat while her fingers teased her clit.
“Fuck, yeah, that’s good, Ricky, real fuckin’ good,” he said, watching her hand move underneath her jeans, her eyes meeting his, her mouth accepting every inch of him. “Want you to come while you suck my cock, got it? Make that pussy real fuckin’ wet for me.”
Ricky’s eyes rolled backwards as she touched herself, circling her clit with her finger faster and faster, matching the pace of his hips as he fucked her mouth. She felt pressure building in her stomach and went faster, the taste and smell of him driving her wild, the feel of being used like an object of pure pleasure exciting.
She wanted to be his fuck toy, to come when he told her to and do what he told her to and only exist to bring him pleasure. The thought of it was enough to make her lose control. As he slammed his cock into her throat, she felt the bottom give out, her pleasure releasing in a dizzying rush, her hips bucking as she thrust against her hand. Cristov, watching her, couldn’t hold back any longer, and with a groan he thrust one last time into her mouth.
The first burst of his cum against her throat nearly shocked Ricky out of her climax, but as she felt it drip down, more filling her cheeks and tongue, she accepted it eagerly, swallowing each drop as her body throbbed with ecstasy, the taste of his release making her climax draw out, impossibly good, impossibly sweet.
He stayed in her mouth until his cock began to wilt, and when he pulled out, Ricky fell backwards onto her knees. The taste of him lingered on her tongue. She looked up at him, dazed and – now, as reality crushed in – slightly disappointed. That was it? No sex? As though he could read her mind, Cristov grinned and dropped to a crouch in front of her, taking her chin in his hand and pulling her forward so that their noses almost met.
“Don’t worry, Ricky,” he said, so tantalizingly close. “I ain’t even half done with you yet.”
As though to emphasize this, he stroked his cock, which hung half-erect between his legs. Ricky was amazed at the way it responded, as though it was a beast with its own mind, seeming to grow again before her eyes.
“Get up,” Cristov murmured. “Go sit on the couch.”
Ricky’s legs shook as she struggled to rise from the floor, her head feeling dizzy and her body light. She looked at him over her shoulder as she walked, appreciated the way his eyes lingered on the gentle slope of her hips, her pert ass, her long and taut thighs. He followed her
with a growl on his lips. Just before she sat down, he spoke again, that tone of voice so infuriatingly sexy; she hated obeying it, but her body wouldn’t let her do anything else.
“Wait,” he said, and moved quickly, still stroking his cock, to sit behind her on the couch. He was hard again, the head glistening and still dripping slightly. Ricky gasped as his hands came to her hips, pulling her down, her pussy wet and ready for him.
“Don’t you ever do any of the work?” Ricky couldn’t help but tease him as he held her suspended above his dick. Carefully, she lifted each leg onto the couch, kneeling above him, facing away, her back to his chest. He rewarded her teasing with a sudden, sharp slap against her ass. Her eyes widened and she nearly cracked her neck whipping her head around to protest, but he was too fast.
One hand slipped up to cover her mouth while his other hand slammed her down onto his cock, filling her up in the same moment she screamed for him to release her. Ricky’s mind was torn between feverous need and bright red anger; he couldn’t treat her like that, she shouldn’t let him treat her like that, but…
But, oh, god, she thought, eyes rolling back into her head as he thrust his hips upward, driving himself into her until there was nothing between them.
“Are you gonna be a good girl?” Cristov growled into her ear, still holding her in place with his hand, now rolling his hips upward, pulsing deeper inside of her, the rhythm making her desperate and flushed. “Are you gonna shut up and let me fuck you? Or are you gonna talk back and make me hurt you?”
She moaned against his palm. Hurt me? Hurt me…hurt…oh, fuck, she thought, her mind responding to nothing but the pleasure that shot upwards from her center. As though she’d nodded or said yes, Cristov leaned towards her, planting his lips behind her ear and licking gently. He pulled his hand away, and she shivered as his fingers trailed down her stomach.