Broken Beast

by R. R. Banks

  It washes over my entire body, my toes curling, my nipples tightening, my ears ringing. My grip on my legs weakens, and my good foot falls to the floor. I catch my bad foot before it slams down too hard, though it doesn’t hurt the way it did this morning.

  He sits back, wiping his face and pushing his hair back from his eyes. God, he’s so handsome.

  I lie there for a blissful moment, just grinning deeply as the most pleasure I’ve felt in a long, long time courses through me.

  My body comes back online more slowly than my brain. The full realization of what just happened hits me, and I suddenly feel naked. I close my legs and draw them up to my chest. I can’t believe we did that. Now that it’s finally happened, I can’t go back to normal. I can’t un-learn that he’s basically a gold medalist in eating pussy. I can’t un-learn that he’s still sweet under that rough exterior, maybe even more than before.

  But I also know that I can’t let this go any further. My feelings are so jumbled, like yarn someone shoved into a bag. I know I like him, but I also know fucking him or trying to date him again would be like pouring soda on myself and taking a stroll through a forest filled with bees. I’m just waiting to get hurt. With everything going on with Max, I don’t need any more complications.

  “That was great, but I should go,” I say.

  “Mm,” is all he grunts in response. He’s confused, clearly, but he’s not going to stop me from leaving. I’m just as lost.

  I get up, stepping lightly on my bad foot, and look for my panties. Jay hands them over to me like he’s handing me a remote. I tug them on.

  “Um, thanks. For today,” I attempt, because what else would I say? Thanks for blowing my fucking mind and making me more confused about men and dating?

  “Yeah, it’s no problem.” He stands. “Make sure you ice your ankle and keep it elevated. Ice pack’s in the freezer if you want to take it.”

  He walks me to the door and opens it. We both pause for a second, unsure of what to do. Should I just stroll out? It’s like a weirdo version of the walk of shame. I look up at him, and he goes for a kiss on the cheek. I can smell myself on him, and it’s taking a hell of a lot of self-control for me to not shove him back inside to his bedroom.

  But I leave, hobbling across the grass to my little house.

  Chapter Six

  Jay

  I fell asleep thinking about Simone, and now, having just woken up, I’m still thinking about her. And not only in a sexual way, to my surprise. I feel like a goofy teenager again, with the same big, ridiculous crush on her that I had back in high school.

  Her bright smile seems to take over her whole face when she finally lets herself go a little. Her laugh is completely unrestrained and loud, and I love it. The way she looks at me when we’re talking makes me feel like how I am is perfectly fine.

  I’m getting better at reading her, too, though it’s a little disturbing at how closed off she is now. Our little chats about work leading up to last night were really revealing to me. She’s just as ambitious as she was before, but she’s extremely worried about how it’ll all pan out, even though she’d probably say otherwise. Something else is up with her, but I didn’t want to prod her yesterday. There’s something between us again on a romantic level, and I know I’m not hallucinating it just because I went down on her.

  That’s one of the hardest parts. Shoving my emotions down and smothering them until they die? I’m a champion at that. Controlling my dick? Not so much.

  Especially since she looks hot in basic clothing — her big T-shirt draped across her tits in a way that made it hard to stare, and how her smooth skin emphasized the curve of her thighs and calves. And Jesus, that foot massage and everything that came after it. When she threw out the idea in her list of not-that-absurd demands, I was like, “Okay, whatever, it’s no big deal. Feet aren’t sexy, at least to me.”

  Past me is dumb as fuck.

  The pleasure written across her face when I rubbed her petite foot for maybe thirty seconds is mostly responsible for the hard-on I have now. I might as well have been feeling her up from the way she melted. I guess that’s what made me go for it, even though it was a bold move. I really, really enjoyed tasting her, but I couldn’t look her in the eye with my face buried between her legs. The rest of women’s bodies are great, obviously, but I love seeing their faces contort with pleasure, just like hers did when I massaged her foot. It took all of my power to not whip my cock out and plunge into her like the fate of the world depended on it.

  And then there’s the slightly awkward goodbye to think about. If I had moved a centimeter to my left, I would have kissed her lips when she kissed my cheek on her way out. Is that what we are now? Just fuck buddies? Are we anything at all? How would that even work, if she’s leaving in a few months? Am I overthinking this? I left the city for a reason, so like hell would I go back and forth all the time.

  I grip the base of my cock and absently run my hand up and down its length. I can already tell that just jerking off to what happened between us isn’t enough. I want to feel all of her body and see how big my hands will be wrapped around her small waist. I like that contrast, with my constantly beat-up and callused hands against her pale, unblemished skin. I want to be buried in her to the hilt, watching her fall to pieces. I want to make her scream.

  Just as I’m about to take care of myself, my phone starts ringing. It’s early, though — just past six-thirty in the morning. My stomach clenches instinctually. The last time anyone called me this early, I got news that my parents had been killed in a car wreck.

  But it’s Andrew.

  “Hey, what’s wrong?” I ask when I pick up.

  “Oh good, you’re up.” I hear a ton of noise in the background. “Can you come into town? There’s been another fire. It might be arson. We just need help keeping the area clear of people.”

  “Ah, shit. I’ll be there in a bit.” I hang up and roll over onto my stomach. I’m too exhausted to be fully awake, probably because I couldn’t sleep after what happened with Simone. But I can’t linger on it. I need to get into town.

  I dress quickly, suck down some coffee, and drive to town. I can see what Andrew was talking about. The air is thick with smoke, and the road is blocked from a shit ton of cars, from locals who clearly just want to see what’s up, to cops from the next town over.

  The ambulance from the town over is there, too, its lights flashing in the dawn light. Then I see the reason why — there are news vans there, with mics, cameras, and anchors talking. People who live in the area are milling around, getting in the way of the firefighters trying to finish up their jobs.

  “Hey, let’s clear the area,” I call loudly, making my way through the crowd and motioning for people to give the firefighters space. People move right away. One of the first jobs I got out of prison before I decided to get a carpentry apprenticeship was as a bouncer. The crowd control skills I learned there come in handy more often than I’d like them to.

  “Oh good, you’re here. Thanks for coming,” Andrew says, coming up behind me. He looks tired, too. The town is so small that we don’t have a full-fledged police and fire department of our own, so some locals act as the main contacts if things go wrong. Andrew is one of them.

  “No problem. What happened? They think it’s an arson?” I turn to look toward the fire, or the remnants of it. The houses are on the edge of town, just close enough to possibly cause a chain reaction of fires down main street. Thankfully it only hit a few houses. I can see where the fire started from the scorch marks up one side of the house closest to us, a spray of black ash against the white.

  “This first house caught on fire, and there’s a line of gasoline connecting it to the houses next to it.” Andrew runs his hand down his face. “It’s looking like arson, and not even a clean one.”

  “Shit.” If it’s definitely arson, it might be the third one of the season. Two fires broke out last month, but our police force is basically non-existent and can’t devote its
limited resources to crimes like that. I don’t even think the closest town has more than two detectives, so how are we supposed to manage? The crime rate is low, sure, but three suspicious fires are way too many for such a small town. What if it’s a serial arsonist? How will we stop them? Luck and gumption? This isn’t like Murder, She Wrote. No one’s going to solve this with gumption and good luck.

  “I know.” Andrew looks over his shoulder at the firefighters. “It wouldn’t have been that bad if we’d had a fire team in town.”

  “Did anyone get hurt?” I see an older man sneak past me out of my peripheral vision. “Sir, get back. Give them space to do their jobs.”

  He steps back as if I shoved him.

  “Not seriously. One house was empty — the first one that got hit. The people in the other houses got out in time since they could smell the smoke. I think one kid is being treated for slight smoke inhalation.” Andrew sighs.

  I nod and look over at a news crew from the closest big town. Dread fills my gut. If they’re here reporting, there’ll probably be even more attention on the town. I’m less concerned about how outsiders view it and more concerned about the people who live there. How could their home go from a place where they feel safe to a place where people’s homes get burned down on a semi-regular basis? Having the news crews here makes it feel much more serious.

  “Who called the news crews?” I ask.

  “Who else?” Andrew jerks his head to another camera crew. Fucking Edgar. My blood boils immediately.

  “Of course he would.” I glare at him, hoping he’ll somehow feel it. Where is he staying? I didn’t realize that he actually stayed in the town overnight sometimes. Maybe he already bought some property. I hope he hasn’t.

  “But why? Isn’t this making the town look less attractive for his little hotel?” Andrew crosses his arms over his chest, glaring at him also. Edgar tried buying his land a while back, but he refused. He’s pulled out of the fight, though, and doesn’t attend any of the meetings Edgar’s held since.

  “I’d think so.” I step a little closer to him and the crew, pretending to keep another part of the crowd back, just so I can hear what he’s saying.

  “It’s truly a shame that this is happening.” Edgar is awfully put together for this early in the morning, in his designer sweatpants and coordinating sweat-wicking shirt. His brown hair is neatly combed, and his eyes look alive and bright. Sure, he might be a morning person, but I’ll bet he’s getting off on the drama. He seems like that kind of guy.

  He must notice me out of the corner of his eye, because he seems to tense up.

  “As a resident, how does this make you feel?” the anchorman asks.

  “It makes me worried. It makes me feel like I can’t rely on the town to be safe anymore.” He looks down at the ground, pausing dramatically. “I hope that the town can grow so that our police force can, too. We can’t let this kind of thing happen again.”

  I can’t believe he’s trying to pass himself off as a local, the fucking asshole. And I can’t believe he’s milking this situation to his advantage. His hotel would cause growth, alright. And we’d probably need more cops to make the tourists feel safe in a town that’s a shadow of what it was.

  I’m not saying that I think we shouldn’t have a bigger police and fire force — obviously, that would be a good thing whether we had a ton of crime or not. I’m just saying that I would rather have another reason for it to grow, besides all these arsons and Edgar’s attempts at turning the town into a corporate-owned nightmare. I need to look into how that could happen. I’d happily use some of my money to help the town, as long as no one knows it’s me who’s behind it.

  I grimace and motion for more people to get back, making my way over to Andrew again. Harrison has joined him. He doesn’t look like he’s energized by this situation in the slightest. His eyes have dark circles, and his shirt is stained. But the rage in his body is unmistakable, and it all seems to be aimed at Edgar.

  “I fucking hate that guy,” Harrison spits when I get close enough for him to talk to me. “The fuck is his problem? Why is he here?”

  “I’m not sure,” I reply, even though I’m now fully aware that Harrison could be a problem. I don’t want to have to break up a fight between Harrison and Edgar, so I keep my revelations to myself. I can easily see Harrison launching himself at him and not stopping until one of them has to be wheeled away.

  “You’re fine, right?” Andrew asks.

  “Yeah.” He sniffs and runs his hands through his messy hair. “I just heard all the sirens pass by, then I saw the local news. I had to get down here.”

  I nod. “Well, hopefully everything will be okay.”

  “Hopefully.” More police cars pull up, and a few cops get out. They immediately start putting up barriers so people can’t cross into the crime scene. I guess my job here is done. “I should get home. I have some work to do.”

  “Alright. See you around.” Harrison nods at me.

  I hop back into my truck and drive back home in silence, feeling out of sorts. No one got hurt, sure, but I don’t think the fire bodes well for the town’s future. Maybe I could make an anonymous donation to the fire department. That wouldn’t solve everything, but maybe they’d have a little more money to work with.

  When I get home, I go into the kitchen to make more coffee. Simone must have been in, because there’s a fresh pot. I pour a cup, sip, and nearly spit it right back out into the cup. Holy shit, this is garbage. The woman can do a lot of things, but making good coffee is not one of those skills.

  I dump the coffee out and start a new pot. She didn’t put enough coffee grounds in the machine. Once I’ve made a passable brew, I pour myself a mug and head out to my warehouse. Pounding some hot metal sounds like a good remedy to my worries.

  I take a peek at her through the window on my way back to my warehouse. She’s hard at work, as always, headphones on. This time, she’s working on a dress form, draping plain cotton over it. She’s wearing a T-shirt and leggings that meld to her form, sending my blood rushing down to my groin again. I can’t get distracted again, no matter how good the distraction is — I need to actually get some shit done.

  My workspace is kind of a mess right now, but it’s the place where I feel most at peace, my home aside. I never thought that I would be able to live a life like this, where I have control over my day and do something I’m good at. I can create without worrying about money. Ironically, that makes me work harder on each project.

  I have to work on another decorative axe. I’m not sure why they’re trendy right now. Maybe it’s a Game of Thrones thing. I don’t mind either way, since they’re fun to make, and the design my client wants will be a good challenge. I slam the rest of my coffee and get into it, stepping into my hot workspace.

  I’m not blasting music today, since it gets a little too loud, but it doesn’t matter. I get into a flow, losing track of time as I do my work. My concentration breaks a few hours later when my stomach starts growling. I head back to the house. I go to my bedroom to change my T-shirt, and come out to find Simone standing over the sink. Her skin’s a healthy olive tone most of the time, but right now, she’s white as a sheet.

  “Hey,” I greet her, and she jumps. “Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you.”

  “S’fine,” she says, hardly loud enough for me to hear.

  Something is off with her, really off. I don’t think it’s me, or any residual feelings about our hook up. She looks close to passing out, like she’s received awful news. It’s enough for me to push past any lingering awkwardness from last night.

  “You okay?” I ask. I look at her hands. She’s gripping edge of the sink with both hands. There’s a plate sitting in the sink.

  “Mmhm.” She smiles, almost. Her mouth makes the movement, but I can see the stark anxiety in her eyes that she can’t hide.

  “You’re not. You look like all the blood in your body’s disappeared.” I step closer to her. “What’s wrong?” />
  Finally, she looks alive again, her eyes narrowing with confusion. Still, she speaks up.

  “It’s just that fire. I heard about it on the local news.” She pushes off of the sink and opens the fridge. I try not to stare at her perfect ass when she bends over to get a yogurt. “I’m not big on fires.”

  “It’s fine. It wasn’t even close to us,” I shrug, even though I don’t know if it’s truly fine. But it is true that the scene is literally on the other side of town.

  “I know. Still.” She rips open the yogurt with a little too much energy. “It’s unsettling.”

  “I know. I went down there this morning and it was a bit of a circus.”

  “I didn’t even hear you leave.” She licks the foil from her yogurt. Does she know how sexual that looks? My brain shifts from her fear to her body, and back to her fear in rapid succession. “I slept a little late.”

  “Andrew called me over for crowd control.” I look over her face again. Her color’s returning, but she’s clearly still not totally normal.

  “Are you the town’s bouncer?” she asks, a genuine smile coming back onto her face. She leans her hip on the counter.

  “More or less.” I slip past her to get to the fridge for the milk.

  I don’t feel like cooking, so I pull out my family sized box of Cocoa Puffs and dump a bunch into a massive bowl. I cover it all in milk. I can tell Simone’s probably judging me for eating the same shit I did in high school, but that just makes me smirk.

  With the lull in conversation, my mind drifts to last night and whether I should bring it up at all. Her mind drifts back to whatever she was worried about, because she stares back down at her yogurt with the same stricken look just barely visible on her face. Silence is clearly her kryptonite.

  “You want to grab a drink or something at the tavern tonight?” I ask. She blinks in confusion. “Just casual Nothing too crazy. Seems like you need it, if I’m being honest.”

  That makes her smile again. It’s so damn cute that I nearly lose my train of thought.