by Hamel, B. B.
“Cash?” I raise my eyebrows.
“Half a million, I hear,” she says, and shrugs. “People don’t ask questions in Pine Grove. I bet you noticed.” She gives me a pointed look.
I sigh. “I get it.”
“It’s why folks come here, to run away from whatever they’re running away from.”
“I’m just curious about him.”
Her expression softens. “I bet you are. He’s a pretty man.”
I blush a little. “Weird way to describe him, but okay.”
She laughs. “He’s a city boy. That much is obvious. But folks don’t like going around him much.”
“Why not?”
“Bought a house in cash. Doesn’t go out much. These are warning signs, honey.”
“Of what?” I press.
She raises an eyebrow. “I ain’t gonna spell it out for you.”
“You think he’s dangerous, though?”
“Probably, but most people out here are, so who knows.”
I chew my lip, thinking back to last night, trying to see if there were any warning signs, any reasons to feel worried.
But there are none. Sure, he was cocky and intense, and he knew what he was doing when he went down on me, but nothing that suggests he was dangerous.
“Thanks, Mae,” I say, and she nods.
I head back to work. I try not to think too much about what she said, but I can’t help myself.
I keep coming back to him buying a house in cash.
What kind of people have that much cash on them?
The kind of person that would need to run from something. The kind of person that would come to this tiny little town, escaping their old life in the big city.
Shit. Maybe he really is dangerous.
Or maybe he just made a ton of money on Bitcoin and doesn’t want to pay taxes. There are a hundred reasons why he’s laying low and paying in cash. I can’t just assume he’s a bad guy just because of some townie rumors.
Guess I can’t help myself. I’m no better than the small-town people around me. I’m reaching for gossip about this guy, trying to find any scrap of something bad about him.
Instead, I should just give him a chance, right? I mean, he’s a person.
As the night wears on, I can feel myself slowly justifying seeing him again. Everything points toward staying away from this guy, but I’m not seeing it. Instead, I’m making my own mind up, and my mind is stupid.
Really, really stupid.
But his hands on my hips while we danced, his mouth between my legs, his handsome face, his cocky grin…
Crap. I’m so stupid. This isn’t what I came here for.
And yet here I am, still thinking about that guy.
Mae leaves around nine and I’m left alone. The regulars are thin tonight, the crowd a little more subdued than normal. I’m a little bored, cleaning up where I can, but mostly thinking about Dawson. Time slaps past like honey until midnight drips past and one o’clock rolls around.
When, of course, he walks in through the door.
I don’t know what I expected. Maybe I thought I might not see him again, or at least not for a little while.
But there he is. He comes in and all eyes instantly jump to him, although he doesn’t seem to notice. He walks up to the bar and sits down, a little smile on his face.
I walk over, drying a glass with a rag. “Fancy seeing you here,” I say.
“I hoped you’d be working.”
“Came to stalk me, huh?”
His smile gets a little devious. “Something like that.”
I laugh lightly, although Mae’s warning rings in my ear.
“What can I get you?”
“Whiskey,” he says.
I nod and get his drink, whiskey on the rocks. He takes a sip when I place it down in front of him.
“How’s business tonight?” he asks.
I shrug a little. “Dull.”
“Isn’t it always?”
“Guess so.”
“At least until I showed up.”
I give him a look. “Please.”
“Come on. Admit last night was the most fun you’ve had since coming here. Maybe since ever.”
I shake my head. “Hardly.”
“Yeah? You been out much? Partied real hard?”
I laugh. “Sure. I go down to the hunting lodge with the boys, smoke a cigar. It’s a grand old time.”
He gives me the laugh I’m craving. “I bet you do. You and all the other old grizzled vets.”
“Me and the boys talk about killing animals and complain about our wives. You know how it is.”
He nods seriously. “Can’t stand the wife myself.”
“Ruining your life, I’m sure.”
“Won’t cook, never puts out.”
“Better not to get married.”
He grins and locks eyes with me. “Exactly what I was thinking.”
I smile back and the joke fades. “Look, I’d better get to work.”
“Yeah? You look busy.”
“I am.”
He shrugs. “Okay then.” He sips his drink. “I’ll be here.”
I smile and go back to what I was doing before he came in, which is a whole lot of nothing. I don’t want to hang on his every word and make it look so obvious that I can’t stop thinking about him, so I busy myself with little tasks behind the bar. Between filling drinks and organizing the liquor bottles, I stay busy enough that the night slowly slips past.
“Last call!” I holler, although I don’t really need to. By the time two shows up, there are only a few other guys sitting around the place, aside from Dawson, of course.
He watches me the whole time, a little smile on his lips. He drinks two whiskeys, but he doesn’t seem drunk. His gaze only gets a little harder, a little more intense.
It sends shivers down my spine. It drives me wild, makes me remember how he made me feel the night before.
The regulars all pay their tabs. Finally, I’m left alone with him.
“What are you doing after this?” he asks me.
“Going home,” I say. “For real this time.”
He grins. “How about you come home with me instead?”
I hesitate, a little surprised. I didn’t expect him to be so forward, but I don’t know why.
He was forward enough last night.
“I don’t know,” I finally say.
“Nervous?”
“Maybe.”
“I bet you don’t go home with men very often.”
“I don’t,” I say, which is an understatement.
I’ve never gone home with a guy, ever. I’ve never had sex with a guy either. So, the idea of letting this one take me back to his expensive house and fuck me is pretty damn terrifying.
Even though, despite all that, my heart’s beating wildly and part of me wants to take the leap.
Because screw it. I’m a new Celine, right?
“I’ll be a gentleman,” he says softly. “I’ll make sure you come first.”
I roll my eyes but my heart leaps at that. “Knock it off.”
He shrugs and slowly stands up, tossing some bills on the bar. “I’m not going to bullshit you, Celine. I’m interested. I want you to come home with me. We don’t have to fuck if you’re afraid, but I can still make sure you feel good.”
I stare at him. “I don’t know,” I say. “This is sort of fast for me.”
“I bet it is. You’re a little afraid.”
“I’m not afraid.”
“It’s okay. I can see it in your eyes.” He smirks, laughs softly. “Maybe last night was just a fluke. Maybe I should just leave.”
He turns to the door.
“Wait,” I say.
I don’t know why. I should bite my tongue. I’ll see him again. I don’t have to rush home with him.
But I want to. God, I really, really want to.
He turns back and raises an eyebrow. “Don’t tease me,” he says, a little smile on his lips, a
lmost as if that’s exactly what he wants.
“I need to close up, okay? So just wait.”
He nods. “I’ll be outside.” He turns and leaves, just like last night.
I hurry through my closing routine again. I make sure the place is in decent shape, and I buy myself a second to think.
Should I really go home with this strange man? I mean, I already did more with him last night than I ever thought possible, and I’m still here. It felt good, really good. Mae thinks he’s dangerous, but I’m not sure about that.
I think he’s like anyone else. He’s like me. He’s hiding from something and trying to start over.
I can’t hold that against him.
Still, I’ve never done anything like this before. I’m a freaking virgin. I mean, I don’t know how I’m going to go home with him and survive the night.
But as soon as I step outside into the night and find him leaning against his truck, his startling green eyes flashing through the night, I know I’m about to find out.
This is stupid. It’s reckless. It’s begging for trouble.
But I’m a new Celine. I’m starting over.
I’m going to lose my virginity to this gorgeous freaking man and have a good time for once in my life, and nothing’s going to stop me.
4
Dawson
She looks more nervous tonight, although I can’t blame her.
Before, we were going to the relative safety of a public place. We were going to a club, which is a normal thing to do with a man you’ve just met.
This, though. This is a big leap for her.
I know she’s never done anything like this before. Well, I don’t know for sure, but I get the sense that she really is a good girl. I don’t know what she’s doing here in Pine Grove, and I won’t ask unless she’s interested in sharing, but I can tell that she’s not here because of something deep and dark. If I had to guess, I’d say she’s running from a relationship and just looking to start over.
I can relate, although what I’m running from is much deadlier.
“I live nearby,” I tell her. “Decent place, but I gotta warn you. I’m a single guy living alone, so…”
“Porn mags and empty beer cans lying around, got it.”
I laugh a little. She’s genuinely funny. “Something like that.”
“Look, are you trying to prepare me for all the plastic sheeting you have laying on the ground?”
“Basically,” he says. “Don’t want to make a mess, you know.”
She sighs. “Totally, totally. Bodies sure do bleed a lot.”
I laugh again at that, although I don’t think she knows why it’s funny.
Maybe because I do have an intimate knowledge of just how much the human body can bleed.
“Don’t worry, I’m not a serial killer,” I tell her. “I’m more the conventional type of killer.”
“Yeah? Fits of rage and passion?”
“Sure, the normal, boring stuff.”
She laughs nervously. “Seriously though. What’s wrong with your place?”
“It’s just barren,” I admit. “I haven’t decorated much. Lots of white walls.”
“Oh, that’s no big deal.”
“I know. I just feel weird bringing people in there. Back in my old life, my apartment was pretty stylish.”
“Yeah? You liked decorating?”
“Sort of. I liked collecting.”
“Collecting what?”
“All sorts of things. Old radios, coins, maps. Old junk, basically.”
“Huh.” She gives me an appraising look. “You don’t seem like the antiques type.”
“Oh, don’t judge a book by its cover.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
“I used to sell it, too,” I admit. “It was a side business as much as it was a hobby.”
“That’s the best kind of hobby, the ones you can make money off of.”
I smirk a little. “Not much money in it, honestly. Not compared to my real job.”
“What do you do?”
I don’t answer as I pull into the driveway of my house and kill the engine. “Here we are.”
We get out and walk up my front steps. The house is a little old Craftsman-style house. There was an enormous Victorian for sale when I moved here, but I figured that would be a little over the top. Instead, I bought a more modest place, although it still cost me a shit-ton of cash. Turns out, houses in the nice part of town still have some value.
“Home sweet home,” I say as we step inside and I flip on a light.
“It’s nice,” she says, and sounds a little surprised.
“I know.” I grin at her. “Want the tour?”
“Sure.”
We walk through the place. I show her the kitchen, the living room, bathrooms, bedrooms. It’s a simple, boring, normal little house, and I haven’t invested much energy into it aside from fixing a few things that really needed fixing. The kitchen is relatively updated, the bathrooms are in decent shape, and that’s been enough for me.
“It’s not as bad as you made it seem,” she says as we head into the kitchen. I pour two glasses of wine, a halfway decent red I’ve been hoarding since I moved here.
“I exaggerated, I guess,” I say. “Just wanted to set expectations.”
She takes the glass from me and sips it. “What should my expectations be here then, Dawson?”
I smile at her, looking at her body. I feel that craving come rising up through me, peaking and cresting over me like a wave.
“What do you think, Celine? Why else follow a man back to his house?”
She bites her lip. “I don’t know. Maybe you can explain it to me.”
I put my glass down and step toward her. She meets my gaze as I come closer, nearly pinning her back against the counter.
“You’re here because you want another taste of last night,” I say softly. “You’re here because you’re practically dripping with desire already.”
“I don’t know about that.”
I take her chin. “Yes, you do. But you’re afraid. I can see that.”
She looks away. “I am not.”
“Yes, you are. What do you think is going to happen, Celine?”
She looks back at me. “I’ve never done this before, okay?”
“That’s okay,” I say softly. “I can show you what to do.”
“No, I mean.” She screws up her face. “I mean, I’ve never done this. With a guy. Ever.”
I raise an eyebrow. “I get it. You’ve never come home with a man before.”
“No, no, I’ve never had sex before.”
I stare at her for a second. “You’re a virgin?” I ask softly.
She nods, bright red with shame and embarrassment. “I’m sorry,” she says. “I know you expected more, you probably expected someone with a lot of experience, someone more fun than me, but—”
I cut her off. I take her hair and kiss her, tongue in her mouth, burying her apologies.
I don’t want to hear them. I don’t need them.
She’s a virgin, a fucking virgin that looks like… fucking this. Holy hell.
She’s a goddamn virgin and she’s come home with me.
We kiss for a long, slow minute. I pull back from her, looking into her bright blue eyes.
“I love that you’re a virgin,” I say gently.
“You do?”
“Of course. Why wouldn’t I?”
“I don’t know… I mean, I’ve done stuff, but I don’t know what I’m doing.”
She’s red and practically shaking.
“It’s okay,” I say gently. I kiss her cheek, her neck. “I can teach you.”
“Teach me?”
“I can teach you,” I repeat. “I can show you what I like. I can train you to fuck like you were born to do it.”
She takes a sharp breath. “Train me,” she says softly.
“That’s right. You’ll have to listen to me. Do what I say. But if you can follow directions…
you’ll learn.”
She bites her lip. “I don’t know.”
“Why did you come with me, Celine? You want to get fucked by me. You want my cock deep between your legs. You just don’t know how.”
Her breath is coming faster now. “Maybe.”
“Don’t be afraid of it. You don’t have to be shy. I can take care of you, Celine.”
“Shit,” she says softly.
“I know. You want that, but you’re just afraid. You don’t need to be, though.”
“You can take care of me,” she whispers.
“That’s right.”
“Show me.”
That’s all I need. Those two words.
A fucking virgin.
There’s nothing better than a virgin.
Most men can’t handle a virgin. They’re worried, or afraid, or any number of pathetic emotions. But not me.
A virgin excites me.
It means I can mold her, teach her, train her. I can make her fuck exactly the way I want it.
And I can show her just how good sex can be if she only can relax and give herself to me.
We kiss again. This time, I lift her up onto the counter, spread her legs, and let her wrap them around me.
Her lips taste like honey, her tongue feels like heaven. I lift her shirt up and over her head, letting her thick hair spill all around her shoulders.
I can’t believe no man has taken this girl before. Celine is fucking beautiful, her creamy skin perfect, her breasts nice and round. The thought of being the first man to fuck her deep and rough is driving me absolutely insane.
But I have to get under control.
I kiss her chest, slip her bra off. She slides it forward, letting it fall onto the floor.
I kiss her breasts, tease her nipples. She groans a little bit as I bite gently and cup them with my hands before kissing her lip.
She reaches forward and unbuckles my belt. I let her take it off. I let her take my jeans off, let them drop to the floor. She grabs my cock over my boxer briefs and strokes it fast.
I take her hand. “Slowly,” I say softly. “Slowly at first. Don’t rush.”
She nods and strokes me slower. “That’s good,” I whisper. “Fuck, girl. I love your little hands around my big cock.”
“I like your big cock,” she says back, blushing.
