by Lilly Wilde
A blush shades her cheeks, then her expression shifts to the one I’ve seen many days at the diner in response to my asshole moves. “I guess we are,” she says as I grab my shoes and open the door.
“See you around,” I say, cutting ties with the last several hours and with the woman I don’t plan to see ever again.
I SOMEHOW MANAGE TO ARRIVE at the diner only a few minutes after my shift starts. Well, in body at least. Waiting tables isn’t my calling, that’s for sure. But if breaking fewer glasses and plates is any measure of improvement, I’ve gotten better. I’m sure Jim Bob sees it that way, so yeah, I’ve gotten better. But this morning, it’s as if I’ve reverted to day one. All thumbs. A slip of a glass here, drop of a plate there, and it’s back to Jim Bob’s threats of cutting my check. Fuck.
Last night’s drinking was draining within itself, but everything that happened afterward is pulling at every available brain cell that isn’t needed to move through the motions of taking orders, wiping tables and serving customers. And each time the door opens, I find myself risking whiplash to see if it’s Branch. But it’s never Branch, and when the Coca-Cola clock shows a little past two, I accept that he isn’t coming.
As badly as I need to forget about him and last night, I can’t if I wanted to—each step meets me with a tender ache. He said he’d fuck me until I was too sore to walk and dammit if he didn’t do just that. And if I didn’t have to be at Jim Bob’s right now, I’d let kitty soak the day away in a nice hot bath.
I hear Branch’s final words to me. They are on repeat.
“We agreed to fuck and that’s it. We’re done here, Ragan.”
“See you around.”
Yeah, I could get beyond that because it’s no less than what I agreed to…twice. He even gave me an out before anything happened but I didn’t take it. Okay, so maybe it’s all difficult to swallow but the one thing he said that leaves me conflicted is, “What happened between us…that wasn’t the norm.”
Why was it different with me? Was it because I wasn’t like the others, so he couldn’t do to me what he did to them? That’s the only thing that makes sense. I don’t know whether to feel embarrassed or shortchanged.
Shortchanged? Nah. Wrong word. He was amazing. I mean really amazing. And he ate my pussy like it was his profession. Maybe he should get two hundred fifty million for that.
But he said, I didn’t get what I expected. What the hell did that mean? Maybe it was best he didn’t come to the diner today…or any day. Last night needs to be exactly what we agreed. A one-time thing with no regrets. Yeah, I could live with that.
Or could I?
As the day draws on, I start to question that more and more because Branch is crowding my thoughts. He’s pushing everything out of my brain except him. And the same question is rolling around in my head…over and over. Why had Branch been different with me? And if the porno version is his norm, did I receive the nice version? My nipples are basically raw and kitty is damn near the same so I don’t know how nice it was, but it was hella good. The man has skills, I’ll give him that. But what prompted the change in the bedroom? I mean, he’s been a dick pretty much every day since he’s come back to town. So why shift gears last night? Not like he’s the nicest person in the world, so I certainly didn’t expect him to be nice in bed. Did he think I couldn’t handle the full rawness that was Branch McGuire? Or maybe he’d shown the side of himself he hadn’t intended for me to see. Fuck, I don’t know.
It was definitely a side I would have sworn didn’t exist. And that makes me even more curious about a man I will never have. So maybe it will end up being a regret after all. Another alcohol-laced evening. One he’ll forget and one I’ll always remember.
The diner is near capacity and I can’t do much more than kick into robot mode. No more thoughts of Branch, only greasy food and refills on sweet tea. When Carrie comes in, I say hi and head to the back to put my feet up. On the way to the breakroom, I stop at my locker for my cell to call Aunt Sophie and check in on CeeCee. After about five minutes of searching every pocket and the small hole in my purse, I realize I don’t have my phone.
“Oh shit.” The last place I remember having it was at the cabin. I use the phone in the diner to call Hayley asking if she by chance grabbed my cell. She replies in the negative and then she’s talking ninety to nothing, asking a steady stream of questions about last night. I tell her I’ll call her later when I’m home, then I go to Jim Bob’s office and explain I need to use his computer. Surprisingly enough, he allows it, albeit for ten minutes, but that should be all I need. After a series of Facebook friend requests, I finally get in touch with Darcy and she says I’m welcome to check the cabin and tells me where I can find the spare key.
At the end of my shift, I take the half-hour drive up to Morganton and after a few wrong turns, I finally come upon the cabin. Darcy mentioned I may not need the key because a cleaning crew was coming out today. Guess they made it because a dark gray SUV was parked out front.
I hop out of the car and walk along the pebble walkway stepping stones as I scan the space, noting how it all looks so differently in the light of day. The cabin is a two-story structure surrounded by several tall pine trees that add to the backwoodsiness appeal of the place. The upper level boasts a spacious deck with massive log-framed windows. Aside from the pine needles, a few leaves and scattered pinecones, the lawn is perfectly landscaped. The final touch is the evergreen shrubbery running along the front length of the lower deck. The scenery is practically a beautiful picturesque postcard come to life—countryside elegance at its best.
I walk up the steps and knock at the large wooden door, but no answer. For a moment, I think I’m at the wrong place until I spot Darcy’s last name engraved on the oval placard a few feet to the left of the door. And funny how I don’t remember the stairs even though this morning I traipsed down them to head back to town. I imagine Branch, Matt, Darcy and the rest of their group have a lot of awesome memories from their teenage days at this place. I’m a little saddened knowing that. I’ve always been on the outside looking in. But last night I was actually on the inside, and that didn’t turn out so well either. Maybe because I wasn’t really one of the insiders.
After a second knock, I go for the key, looking in the place Darcy mentioned, but it’s not there. I try the opposite side and locate the key lodged inside the small grayish stone at the base of a planter.
I unlock the door, replace the key, then step inside the cabin. As I glance around the rustically furnished room, nothing looks familiar. Last night I was coasting on beer and the high of being in Branch’s proximity, so I paid very little attention to most everything else. I shake off that high school girl and remember the last place I had my phone was in the plush sofa near the fireplace. As I’m digging in the cushions, I hear a noise from behind the closed door on the far side of the room. I ignore it and continue my search. Just as I start to get frustrated, I feel my phone and pull it from the sofa. After checking the status of the battery life on my cell, I slip it into my pocket.
Relieved that I found what I came for, I start to head out but the strange sound coming from across the room once again grasps my attention. Thinking it’s the cleaning crew, I redirect my steps, curious as to why they don’t hear me and why they didn’t respond when I knocked on the door.
I CRACK THE DOOR OPEN, then expel a silent gasp.
I’m literally too stunned to move.
The scene unfolding before my eyes is truly sickening.
She’s in front of him on her knees. As his cock stands at attention.
And holy shit, he’s huge. I’d felt him inside me and I’d known he was well endowed but I hadn’t seen all of him until now. No wonder I’m sore as shit—his cock is a fucking anaconda. And now I’m standing here, inexplicably adhered to this spot as some blonde prepares to blow what had been buried in me just a few hours ago.
Her mouth meets the head of his penis with a kiss and then she edges closer, curving her fingers around his
length, grasping the base and then twirling. Her efforts apparently coax evidence of his arousal to the surface, because her tongue goes in for a dip. Then his hands come up and grab her hair, guiding her. Following his lead, she moves forward and feeds his erection past her lips, slowly moving down, struggling to swallow him whole.
On the second long suck he lets out a hiss. Then the blonde picks up the pace, her head bobbing up and down with a rapidity that suggests she’s starved for his seed.
And he meets her with each plunge, his dick bucking in and out of her mouth at a steady rhythm.
No. No. No. I tell myself I shouldn’t watch this and a sinking feeling in my belly urges me to step back, close the door, turn around and get the hell out of this cabin. But I don’t move. My feet aren’t listening. And I can’t look away, so I watch. I’ve become a voyeur…the unwilling type.
His hands are still gripping her hair. Still guiding her.
The woman doesn’t stop. Her head bobs faster, her mouth greedy and desperate for his climax. His hips rock up to meet her, his thrusts coming faster and harder. There’s no compassion in his expression, no concern for her, just his own selfish need. I see it plain as day as the woman gives it her all, downing gag after gag with deep sucks as she’s mercilessly face fucked by Branch McGuire.
My heart rate quickens and my stomach lurches as I wait in the shadows for his orgasm. And with a low grunt, when he’s taken from her all that he can, he lets go, spilling into her mouth. He looks down at the blonde, his expression cloaked with pleasure as my throat clenches and a warm feeling rises through my chest, then I taste the bile in the back of my mouth.
At the peak of his release, he emits a low guttural sound that I feel across the room. The blonde motions to pull back but his hands clutch the sides of her head as he forces his release down her throat.
And she swallows the prize…all of it.
At the last pull, his hands relax and she looks up at him. “Are you going to fuck me now?” she asks. Or I suppose that’s what she asked. I couldn’t really make out what she said, so my imagination filled in that part.
Branch urges her back, then he stands, his cock still hard.
I gasp, and that’s when they notice me.
It’s her. I should have known…Skye Jamison.
She flashes me a taunting smile. Then my eyes fly to his and for milliseconds they connect—my browns to his blues. And then as if recovering from the shock themselves, my feet finally take the order my brain has been screaming. I step back, do an about-face, and bolt from the cabin.
WHAT THE FUCK IS SHE doing here? “Ragan! Wait!”
She doesn’t. Of course, she doesn’t.
Instead, the door slams behind her.
Skye ignores the interruption, taking me in her mouth, and not breaking the suction on my cock until I nudge her head away. “Goddamnit, stop.” I shove myself back into my boxers and hurry out behind Ragan.
When I reach the deck, she’s already halfway down the drive. “Ragan!”
I may as well have been yelling at the wind because she doesn’t slow her stride nor does she look back. Forgoing shoes or clothes, I hurry down the steps after her. She comes to a stumbling halt near the front of her car, buckles over and hurls.
Oh, shit. This situation is royally fucked.
“Ragan! Can we talk?”
She runs the back of her hand over her mouth and looks up at me. When I’m a few feet away, she jumps in the car and backs out of the drive.
“Ragan,” I yell again, but it’s useless. “Fuck!”
I rush back inside for the keys to Matt’s SUV, and Skye meets me at the door. Naked. “We’re leaving.”
“But—”
“Get dressed.”
She follows me across the room. “Are you kidding me?”
“Either get dressed and let’s go or find another ride back to town.” I pull on my clothes, grab my phone, and head out the door. Within seconds I’m in the SUV punching the horn for Skye and seriously considering leaving her the fuck here.
I grab my phone to call Ragan, but realize her number is not in my list of contacts. “Shit.”
In a huff, Skye jumps in the SUV, her shirt unbuttoned and her shoes in hand. “Are we seriously done?”
I shake my head at her and spin the vehicle around, pissed that Skye is beside me, pissed that I give a fuck what Ragan thinks and pissed that I’m in Blue Ridge. I toss the phone on the seat and slam my fist against the steering wheel.
“You actually have a thing for her, don’t you?” Skye asks, her tone incredulous.
My jaws clench. And my eyes remain focused on the road.
Ignoring speed limits and rolling through stop signs, I reduce the half-hour drive from Morganton to ten minutes.
“Where’s your house?”
Skye rattles off her address and I’m at her place in no time, screeching to a stop at the foot of her driveway with the door barely closing behind her before I set off in the direction of Ragan’s.
I pull up and hop out of the SUV just as she’s getting out of the car.
“Ragan, wait.”
She spins around and glares at me, her eyes tear-stained. And my gut pulls tight. I did this to her. I knew it was a mistake to fuck her. I fucking knew it.
“Done already?” she snaps. “You weren’t up for giving her the hours you gave to me? Guess I lucked out, huh?”
“Nothing happened.” Shit, why am I explaining to her?
“Maybe in your douchebag world, fucking someone in the mouth is ‘nothing’, but here in Real World, Georgia, it’s a hell of a lot more than that.”
“Nothing happened besides that, I mean.”
“Whether it did or didn’t, it’s really none of my business. Besides, isn’t that what you do—go from one woman to the next without pause? But I would have thought you’d at least give it a day between different pussies.”
Ouch. She’s right. On both counts. But it’s not like I went looking for it—I hopped in the shower and when I came out of the bathroom, I discovered she was the last one at the cabin. And Skye being Skye, she was down for whatever I wanted. I never go back for seconds, but I made an exception. The motive—fucking one woman to forget about the one I never should have touched. Total dick move, McGuire.
“I know you think I’m a piece of shit. And maybe I am but—”
“Maybe?” She scoffs and turns away from me.
“Fuck, Ragan. Can you give me five minutes?”
Surprisingly enough, she stops. Her shoulders rise and fall on an exhale before turning around to face me.
“What you walked in on…that has nothing to do with you.”
“Obviously,” she sneers. “It wasn’t my mouth wrapped around your dick, so how could it possibly have anything to do with me?”
“That’s not what I meant and you damn well know it,” I reply, my temper rising again.
“Let me save you the hassle of spitting out some lame explanation. I don’t care. You don’t owe me shit. Nor do I owe you. We did the deed. We said one night and no regrets. Well, that night is over and I have zero regret. You’ve got four minutes left.”
She’s giving me the time I asked for but as I look at her, I realize I don’t know what I was planning to say. What can I say? I told myself, I’d never see her again, so why the fuck am I asking to explain something that actually is none of her business? But what if this is my fault? Have I been leading her on? Did we both make an agreement we shouldn’t have? Shit if I know.
I toss up my hands in frustration. “Just forget it. I don’t know why I’m even here.”
“Neither do I. As a matter of fact, why not make this easier on both of us? Can you skip the diner?”
My brows furrow. “Come again.”
“Let’s keep our distance. No more lunches at the diner, dinners at Jimmy’s, boat rides or anything.”
Best idea I’ve heard all fucking day. “Suits me just fine. I don’t need the trouble.”
�
��Likewise.”
IF THE SHEER WILL TO push someone from your thoughts was all it took to make it happen, my head would be Branch-free, but wishing it doesn’t make it so. Every moment of the last few days is a movie reel with a critic echoing each highlight of my twisted weekend.
Not that I count it as solace but at least now I know what Branch meant when he said I didn’t get the norm. Having witnessed his cruelty to Skye, I guess I really should consider myself lucky. He wasn’t at all like that with me. It was obvious that pleasing me was important to him—that he wanted me to get off as often as he did. So why…why did he get with her just hours after? And why chase me down to explain?
I let out a sigh and glance up from the circles I was tracing on the counter and meet the cold hard eyes of Ethan Tyler.
“I need to see my daughter.”
Just fucking great. I think I actually hate this man. And if I don’t, I know I should. “Kind of like I need the child support you promised.”
He leans over the counter and says in a low voice, “So you’re gonna hold my kid hostage until you get a check out of me?”
“Am I going to have to take you to court to make you do what you should be doing anyway?”
“As if you could afford a lawyer,” he taunts. “I’m pretty positive all the money you had when you left me is gone, otherwise you wouldn’t be living with your piece-of-shit dad and working in this dump.”
“Screw you, Ethan. Do you think you’re some huge success story? Just because you have a job at a fucking fish company and work hour after hour of overtime for extra money? And for what? Just to prove to yourself that you’ve made it?”
“You sure didn’t mind when I was spending that extra money on you. And I’ll take smelling like fish and bringing home the money I make any day over this shit,” he says, gesturing around the diner.
“You mean the money you refuse to spend on your child? You’re a real asshole.”
“When CeeCee is with me, she has whatever she wants. Money is not a problem.”