Rock Chick Renegade

by Kristen Ashley

  Jet moved beside me as Tod, Daisy and Roxie formed a huddle close by (likely to talk about me, I ignored that too) and Ally wandered away (scarily in a direction that would lead her to Vance, I ignored that too).

  “Did you tell him you love him?” I asked Jet.

  “I told him that ages ago when I tried to break up with him.”

  I couldn’t help it, even with all the emotion what she said made no sense and thus made me smile.

  “As you know I’m no expert but that sure as hell doesn’t sound like the way to break up with someone,” I told her.

  She grinned at me, still in her dreamy daze. “It wasn’t though I didn’t know that. I moved in during my troubles and he didn’t let me break up with him when they were over and never let me move out. This past weekend I even painted his bathroom this really cool shade of deep, deep lavender, a really rich color but Ally said Eddie’d lose his mind to have a purple bathroom. Still, he told me he loved me. Even a purple bathroom didn’t faze Eddie.”

  She was gazing across the room while she talked and I followed her gaze. I looked across the room and saw Eddie, his eyes on Jet, his lips twitching, his thoughts clearly private but in a seriously sexy, public way.

  I put my arm around her waist and she did the same with mine. “I think you could have painted the bathroom flamingo pink and it wouldn’t faze Eddie.”

  She looked at me, her face had settled, lost its daze and was now just plain happy.

  “I know,” she said softly.

  Don’t ask me why but I touched the side of my head to hers and gave her waist a squeeze. She squeezed me back.

  Then May came out with a birthday cake loaded with lit candles singing happy birthday and everyone joined in.

  * * * * *

  A couple of hours later, the party was winding down and Nick walked up to me.

  With a polite smile, he pulled me away from talking to Zip and Heavy.

  “I’m leavin’, Jules,” he said to me, walking me to the door where he stopped.

  “Did you have fun?” I asked, smiling up at him.

  “Yeah. They’re good people.”

  He was right, they were.

  “Got somethin’ to say, Jules.”

  I cocked my head to the side not sure I liked his tone but having had just enough champagne to be able to ignore that too.

  “Noticed you gave Vance a wide berth tonight. Don’t know why and it’s none of my business.”

  I held my breath knowing from experience he wasn’t done talking and I was right.

  Nick continued. “Been scared stiff these past four months, you doin’ what you’re doin’. You know that. The only two good nights of sleep I’ve had in those months have been the last two, with his Harley sittin’ outside the backdoor.”

  Oh crap.

  Vance had Nick’s approval. I knew that but I’d been trying to ignore it. I also knew that he worried about me a lot and I’d been trying to ignore that too.

  What I didn’t need to know was that Vance made him feel like I was safe.

  “Nick, his Harley won’t be out there anymore,” I told him softly.

  Nick didn’t even try to hide the disappointment on his face. I tried to ignore that too.

  I failed.

  “The way you two are tonight, was worried about that,” Nick said.

  I took a breath and forged ahead. “I won’t be home tonight, can you feed Boo in the morning?”

  Nick stared at me a beat, clearly confused at this contradictory information. I didn’t enlighten him.

  Then he said, “I hope you know what you’re doin’, Jules.”

  “I do,” I replied with fake brightness. “Don’t I always?”

  “Yeah,” he said but he shook his head, “you always know what you’re doin’. Just can’t say you’ve always done the right thing.”

  “Nick –”

  “It may almost always be the right thing for others but it usually wasn’t the right thing for you,” he told me. “Life ain’t worth livin’, Jules, if you don’t take a few risks and I’m not talkin’ about puttin’ your ass on the line to save the world. I’m talkin’ about puttin’ your ass on the line to save yourself.”

  I didn’t have anything to say to that and I didn’t have a chance to find anything to say. Vance walked up beside us approaching me for the first time that evening (although, I’d seen him talking several times with Nick).

  “Time to go,” he said, eyes on me and the look in them sent a shiver up my spine and not in the usual good way.

  I nodded.

  His eyes cut to Nick and his hand came out. “‘Night, Nick,” he said.

  “Vance,” Nick shook his hand and then they broke off, “you two enjoy the rest of your evening.”

  Then Nick went out the door.

  “I’ll get your jacket,” Vance said and peeled off.

  While he was gone I lifted my chin, squared my shoulders, mentally prepared for what was to come and in the middle of that I caught Indy’s eye.

  She was standing next to Lee; he had his arm around her shoulders and was talking to Eddie. Indy had her arm around his waist and she was looking at me. She put her head to his chest and smiled encouragingly.

  Vance came up, my backpack over one of his shoulders, my jacket over his arm.

  “Thanks everybody!” I yelled, they turned, called their goodnights and happy birthdays.

  I waved with pretend happiness. I even blew a few kisses (which was not good for a head-crackin’ mamma jamma to do but for once I was amongst friends) and then we were gone.

  Chapter Sixteen

  You Wanna Talk Now?

  We took Sixth Avenue west to I-70, Vance driving fast. Me pressed against him from crotch to shoulders (dress stretched to the max); arms tight around his waist; backpack on my back; Harley roaring between my legs; my hair flying behind me; my legs freezing in the cold. I alternately pressed my cheek into his shoulder or gazed over it, not quite sad, scared or cold enough not to enjoy the ride.

  We went into the foothills, passed the end of the city lights, strip malls and suburbs where the skies became a bit clearer and you could see the stars a whole lot better.

  He exited I-70 and I memorized our route just because, letting myself pretend that I might take it again one day. It was major thoroughfare left to minor thoroughfare. Minor thoroughfare right to a one lane road. One lane road left to a dirt road. I was guessing we were somewhere between Golden and Evergreen. What I did know was that we were in the middle of nowhere.

  Finally he pulled off into a gravel lane and his headlight flashed on a small, one-story log cabin surrounded by pine trees except for a clearing to the north where there was a major outbuilding.

  In the drive there was an oldish Ford pickup truck, not ancient but it had at least ten years on it. It was blue, it was dusty and you could tell it was well-used. Next to that was a horse trailer.

  Vance stopped the bike, cut the light, I got off and pulled down my skirt. So did he (without the skirt part). We did the whole backpack whirl thing again and then he grabbed my hand and walked me to the house. All this was done in silence.

  I was finding it hard to deal with silence. “Do you have horses?” I asked.

  “One. Stable two for my neighbors in exchange for them feeding, watering and exercising mine when I’m in town which is most of the time,” he replied in a way that didn’t invite further questions.

  He walked right up to the house hand wrapped around mine and opened the unlocked door.

  “You don’t lock your house?” I asked, shocked. Vance, security expert, didn’t lock his own house. He was in the middle of nowhere but still.

  “Got nothin’ to steal,” he said.

  We walked in and he flipped on a light and with one look around I realized he was right. He indeed had nothing to steal.

  He dropped my hand, closed the door and walked through the house, leaving me at the door and disappearing down a dark hall. Then a light came on from there.


  I looked around more, came forward and took my blazer off, wrapping it around the back of a chair.

  It could be cute, his cabin, definitely cozy. The walls were made of well-sealed logs. The floors were wood with some rugs thrown over them, mostly multi-colored and braided, not tatty but not designer-cabin-chic either. The front room was one biggish room incorporating the dining room, living room and kitchen. There was a big stone hearth on the side wall of the living room, a smaller one on the opposite side, next to the dining table.

  To the right was the living room. He had a couch, over it thrown a colorful Native American blanket. A coffee table in front, cluttered with books, some opened and placed face down, some stacked even on the floor and under the table. A floor lamp made of a twisted branch was beside the couch, buffalos dancing across the shade. The back of a beat up leather armchair faced the dining room/kitchen area.

  And that was it. No television, no stereo, no pictures, nothing.

  The kitchen was a u-shape, back and side walls had top and bottom cabinets, a counter delineating it from the dining area with only bottom cabinets. The cabinets were made of a fantastic knotty-pine. They’d look great refinished and with a gleam to them especially if granite or concrete counter tops replaced the old worn brown one he had. A coffeemaker and a toaster were the only things on the counter except for a stack of mail. The dining area held an old, round, oak four-seater. Like everything else it was in good condition but worn, maybe bought secondhand because it was old enough to pre-date Vance’s ownership and too worn for stuff that had little use if he wasn’t home very often.

  Vance came back into the room and I looked at him.

  He stopped in the entryway to the hall and leaned a shoulder against it, eyes on me.

  “If you don’t stay here very often, where do you stay when you’re in town?” I’d asked out of curiosity not able to help myself mostly because I wanted to know.

  It wasn’t a good decision.

  He stayed silent for a beat after my question then his face changed and not in a good way.

  “You wanna talk now?” he asked, voice low. “Get to know me a little better?”

  Um.

  Not good.

  Someone was not in a happy mood.

  “Crowe, I’m just trying to make conversation,” I said quietly, deciding not to spit in the eye of the tiger at this juncture.

  He pushed away from the wall and started toward me. “I don’t wanna have a conversation. I wanna fuck.”

  My body prepared to flee but my mind stopped it and I held my ground. “I’m beginning to hate it when you say it like that,” I said sharply.

  I didn’t really hate it, not before. It was kind of a turn on. But I did hate it now especially the way he just said it which was not nice.

  He stopped in front of me and just at the edge of my space. The whole time he approached me, his eyes were on mine.

  “I work when I’m in town. If I need to sleep, I sleep on the couch in the down room. If I need to shower, I use the shower there. I keep clothes in my locker. A lot of the time I’m out hunting and not in town at all. I come up here when I have time off which isn’t very often,” he answered my question.

  “Why do you work so much?” I asked but wished I hadn’t. Again I couldn’t help myself. I just wanted to know.

  “It’s what I do,” he replied.

  “But why?”

  He stared at me a second, leaned forward and took my hand. “Question time is over.”

  Oh crap.

  Then he turned and pulled me across the room and down the hall.

  It was undignified to struggle especially in high heels and a little black dress. So I didn’t but my belly flutter, coupled with the stomach twist, made me feel a little queasy.

  He pulled me into a room off the left of the hall, his bedroom.

  The lamp was on by the bed. It was an old iron bed, painted black, a double. The mattresses, though, looked firm and new. There was a down comforter on it covered in a dark brown twill and another Native American blanket thrown over the comforter, light brown pillow cases over the pillows. There was a dresser, two nightstands (both with lamps and more books on them) and an old wardrobe (because there was no closet). On the outside wall was another stone-hearth fireplace nearly as big as the living room. The only thing on the walls was a hide stretched across and stitched tight to a bent piece of wood, an image of an eagle shaved into the fur.

  Vance stopped by the bed. He’d already taken off his jacket earlier and now he started to unbutton his shirt.

  “Crowe –” I started.

  “Take off your dress,” he interrupted me, his voice sharp.

  I blinked at him, shocked at his tone.

  Then I rallied. “Can we please talk, just for a few minutes?”

  I wasn’t beginning to get freaked. I was full-on freaked.

  It didn’t take an experienced relationship expert to realize he was pissed off and I didn’t understand. If he was pissed off, why did he want me there at all? It was like he wanted to make this hard on me and I didn’t like that, not about him.

  Furthermore, why was I there? I’d never agreed to it. I hadn’t even agreed to going to the party with him.

  Before I could answer my questions, his hands came away from the last button and he shrugged his shirt off his shoulders and it fell to the floor. Then he captured me by the hips, pulled me closer and with a swish he had my dress clutched in his fingers and up over my head. Then it was gone.

  I was wearing a pair of red satin panties with a little black bow under my navel (one of my new pairs) and no bra.

  For a second shock hit me and I stood frozen. Then I covered my breasts with an arm and bent to retrieve my dress.

  I’d decided that it was time to fuck this. My head-crackin’ mamma jamma was coming out.

  There were a lot of things I didn’t need that had come at me in the last few days but Vance being a complete asshole was the biggest one of them all.

  Vance caught me as I bent over and pulled me back up.

  “Take your hands off me, Crowe. I’m going home,” I snapped when I was straight and looking at him. His arms were wrapping around me and pulling me to him.

  I tried to push back, they went tight with a jerk and my body slammed into his.

  “You aren’t goin’ anywhere.”

  “I don’t like this. You’re making me uncomfortable,” I informed him.

  “You’ll be comfortable in a second when my mouth is between your legs.”

  Oh my God.

  He did not just say that.

  “You’re an ass!” I shouted. “This is not happening.”

  “It’s happening Princess. I have one more night of your sweetness and I’m gonna take it.”

  “You’re gonna have to take it because I’m not giving it.”

  “You’ll give it.”

  “Fuck you!” I was still shouting and now I was pushing away from him.

  “Yeah,” he returned, “exactly.”

  Then he twisted me. We went down on the bed, him on top and his weight hit me hard.

  I struggled, I swear I did, but he got my wrists to the sides of my head and his mouth was on me everywhere and I couldn’t keep it up. I wanted to, I fought it, but I didn’t win.

  He kissed me hard and deep then his mouth moved over my neck, to my collarbone, between my breasts, doing amazing things to my nipples. It was just too much. I hated him at first then I hated myself for giving in and then I couldn’t think of anything (certainly not hate) when his mouth kept at me.

  He knew when I quit fighting. He let my wrists go and then I pushed him to his back, too turned on to think of running. I did the same to him, just as Daisy told me to do, if he did something I liked, I should do it back.

  I went further though, out-of-control turned on, yanking his belt loose, undoing his fly, pulling his jeans down. I took him in my hand and I kid you not, no experience, nothing but instinct, I took him in my mouth.<
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  I had no idea what I was doing but I just winged it. I did what I liked and I liked what I did and I knew he liked it too because after awhile he started to make low, growling noises.

  Then he pulled me up and to the side, he sat up, yanked off his boots and socks, stood up and pulled off his jeans. I used that time to push the souls of my shoes against the heels, shoving them off. He bent over me, feet still on the floor, one hand to the bed beside me. He reached down and dragged off my panties. When they were gone, he spread my legs and then he was there, slamming inside me.

  “Vance,” I breathed when he did.

  “Say it again,” he demanded against my mouth.

  I did.

  It was like it was in the hall of my house, hard, fast, deep and I was coming close to orgasm just from the velvet violence of it.

  Then all of a sudden his hand glided down the back of my leg, lifted it at the knee and he slid out of me. He rolled me to my belly, repositioned between my legs and, hands at my hips, he pulled me up, just the lower half of my body and then he was inside me again.

  I felt a moment of being stunned then it melted away. He could go deeper that way, harder, and God, it felt good. I pushed my hips into him, curled my fingers into the covers at the sides of my head and little mewing noises came from my throat that I couldn’t control.

  It would seem impersonal, him being so far away but he didn’t let it. His hands went from my hips, fingertips brushing my behind, the small of my back, softly then back to hold my hips.

  That was all nice even fantastic but better yet the position felt naughty and it was simply, downright hot.

  I was close, the noises I was making were getting urgent and he pulled out and flipped me around again. He dropped to his side, his arms went around me then he went to his back, taking me with him, rolling me on top.

  “Don’t stop!” I cried (kind of loud and snappish) but he just stared into my eyes, pulled my legs up on either side of him, guided himself inside and sat up.

  Um.

  Wow.

  His head was tilted back, eyes still on me and I looked down at him.

  “I wanna see your face when you come,” he murmured.