Adonis Line: Filth series

by Dakota Gray

  “Oh, before I forget.” She brings her camera to me. “Don’t tell me how you feel about them. That just colors how I look at the photos later.”

  “I won’t.” I settle in front of the small fire.

  I don’t know what professional hiking photos should look like. I just know what I feel when I browse hers. I’m holding my breath when I slide to each new scene she’s captured. I was there. I know what it looked like. There were trees, a sloped trail, and a rugged sign on a tree covered in moss. She did something to the photos to make them appear like mist was climbing out of each green part. I can very well imagine this was a place where the wee folk kidnap humans. The world is a mythical place.

  She shouldn’t be struggling if she takes pictures like this.

  All I can recall are her words. Luck hadn’t met preparation. I push out the trapped air in my chest, resting the camera on my knee. The chili has bubbled in the pot, and she’s shaking the Frito bag she’s already stuffed with the fresh veggies.

  I continue to swallow the words when we exchange the camera for the food, but she’s biting her lip and I wait for the inevitable question.

  Nina clears her throat. “What did you think about them?”

  “I th—”

  “I know what I said, but I am a creative person. I sometimes lie about my insecurities. Right now, I’m swimming in them, because I couldn’t read your face when you were looking at the photos.”

  I simply say. “Two thousand.”

  “What?”

  “I’m lopping off a grand of what you owe me at the end of this trip. Give me two grand and we’re solid.”

  Her face glows, almost luminous. “Well then…” She holds up her Frito bag. “Bon appetite.”

  The grin she gives me takes my breath away. For a moment, the hole that digs itself into me every now and again, is filled. I’m not hungry for a taste of something I can’t name. This buoyant weight in my chest won’t last. I wish it could.

  10

  Nina

  * * *

  Things between us is all fine and good until bedtime.

  Ok. Honesty. Between the hiking and the photo session, I manage to ignore the obvious. Tarek and I will be sharing a tent for the next thirteen days. Want to talk about being stripped down to your most vulnerable bits? Take off your clothes in front of a man you know wants to fuck you, and vice versa and then cuddle into a sleeping bag less than two feet away from his.

  My muscles are tense and stiff, just trying to hold myself still, so no parts of us touch. The pitch black of the night doesn’t help because I can only guess how close I am to him, and it’s cold. I won’t freeze to death as long as I keep my hands and feet bundled, but when I shift, exposing an inch of flesh, the chilled air sneaks in.

  “Nina,” his voice reaches out to me in the dark.

  “Yeah?”

  “You’re fidgeting.”

  I turn to glare in his general direction. “Like I said when we started out, I’m not a mountain woman.”

  There’s silence then he asks, his voice gruff, “What are you, then?”

  I’ve come to hate the word survivor, but not because I somehow associate the meaning with overcoming a weakness. I’ve just too often seen it as a mantle others put on people who lived through trauma. They survived, and therefore, they can never be caught off guard again. I survived, so I’ll never find myself on a quiet, peaceful night crying and questioning what it was about me that let Thomas know he could treat me like immaculate furniture.

  I’m not ready to tell him all that. Men tend to react in different ways once hearing about how my ex abused me. Sometimes I’m treated fragile as glass or there’s an interest to save me from myself. The last way is the worst—my pain is fetishized. The man would put on a face of concern and openness, but all he wants are the gory details. I’m not sure if men like that want firsthand tips or hearing about hurting women is enough to get him off—I’ve only come across that kind of man once, and it was more than enough.

  But the simple fact is, no matter the man I tell, I’m rarely treated as whole and human afterward. I don’t think I could take Tarek treating me like any of the above for the next two weeks.

  “What am I?” I repeat his question. “I’m cold is what I am. Before you even think to offer it, no I am not stripping down naked because skin to skin contact is the best way to stay warm.”

  “Hadn’t thought of that cliché, but it’s a cliché for a reason. What we can do is share our sleeping bags, fully clothed. Or I can boil some water, put it into a thermos, and the thermos in a sock. You can hold it between your legs. Putting it at your feet only heats up your tissue. It’s up to you.”

  There he is, being disgustingly practical. I curl into my sleeping bag. “I’m going to wait it out.” It’s a stubborn stance. “Then if I’m still cold after a few minutes, I’ll get into your sleeping bag. Fully clothed.”

  His reply is a soft grunt. I curl in more, but after a few minutes I’m shivering. There’s a shift on Tarek’s side of the tent and then I hear the metal buzz of a zipper opening.

  “I can practically hear your teeth chattering. Get in.”

  I bring my sleeping bag with me, just in case his body heat isn’t enough, but of course it is. I slide in next to him. His body is hard, heat, and I have never felt softer. “Facing you is awkward.” I wiggle to get comfortable, but there’s not a lot of room.

  “Spoon then.”

  “You just want my ass against your junk.”

  “I’ll have blue balls by morning. So, no, I won’t enjoy that. But I’m tired and I won’t be able to sleep if you’re shifting every few seconds.”

  Once I’m spooned next to him, I zip us up. I partially roll my sleeping bag for a makeshift pillow. He’s tense behind me…and hard. That’s when I start to catalogue things that will not help our situation at all.

  Like, how one of his legs rests between both of mine. He’s also given up on not touching me and rested an arm over my stomach. This close, he smells a little like heaven and a whole lot of earth. My gut is tight. My panties lean closer to wet than damp. He’s right there, so fucking touchable. There’s literally a tingle running down my spine at his every exhale. My nipples hate him for the mindless tease.

  “You warm?” his voice is low, gruff.

  “Hot.”

  He chuckles. “Get your mind out of the gutter. That’d help.”

  I try, but his dick is firm and pressed right against my ass, so close to the good stuff my pussy feels swollen from arousal. I forgot how wonderfully tempting it was to sleep beside a man you wanted to fuck. Every touch, even accidentally, feels like a spark against the skin. I squirm and let out a frustrated sigh.

  “Nina.” His lips brush just behind my ear.

  “My mind is out of the gutter, I promise.”

  He laughs and then his lips are just resting on the sensitive skin between my ear and neck. “If you want me to do something more than keep you warm, let me know.”

  The offer is like an apple in the Garden of Eden. My taste buds hurt from not taking a bite. “And what would you want in return?”

  Loaded damn question, I know.

  And he answers it anyway. “I’m going to get what I want. I can wait for it.”

  “What is it you want?”

  “Nina,” he says my name and I can hear the exasperation. “Do I have to spell it out?”

  “Yes.”

  He shifts, his hand rides down from my torso to my mound. “I’m going to rub my face in your pussy.” His fingers spread. “I was checking you out in that bathing suit. You’re not bare. There’s still a patch of hair. I want to smell your pussy in every strand.”

  “I…” Don’t know what to say in response. Until I do know. “Then what?”

  “I’ll flick my tongue over your clit until you’re wet enough I can taste you on every inch of your lips. I’ll glide my mouth down and lick you deep on the inside.”

  It’s truly a testament of my s
trength that I don’t strip off every inch of clothes and let him do just that. I breathe instead. In those quiet moments between each breath, he raises his hand to my stomach. His dick is still hard, pressing against my ass. I ache for him to be inside me. Ache so much it’s a fight to keep my hand from replacing his on my mound. I squirm. My pussy’s inner muscles quiver then clench leaving me without relief.

  He laughs. “Nina, Nina, Nina. Do you need something to relax?”

  “Fuck you.”

  “I know I’m supposed to reply, yes, please, but I never figured out how fuck you translates into I want to fuck you.”

  “Shut up.”

  His laughter is deep, rumbling in his chest and through me. “Hey, I’m fine. You’re the one rubbing her ass along my dick like you want it.”

  I currently can’t remember why I don’t want him to notch his dick at my pussy’s entrance, stretch me until it almost burns, and then seat fully inside of me. My pussy quakes at the very thought. The relief is right there in my grasp. A word, maybe two, is all I need to get off.

  My heartbeat thunders in my veins. “I-I’m—dammit. I am rubbing against you like a cat in heat. I’ll be still.”

  Every muscle tightens as I try. I’m pretty sure I feel like a rock, but that’s better than soft pliant woman he can fuck.

  Seconds of silence then he mutters, “Why be still?”

  I focus on the noise around us. There’s just the echo of my heavy breathing. Not a cricket or coyote to fill up the night with sound. “I don’t know.”

  But don’t I? Tarek is bigger than me, and not just in a physical way. I didn’t prepare for a man with wit and smarts. I definitely didn’t take into consideration how his sex-appeal could numb my brain. He was just a jock with more muscles than thinking power. He’d be a physical challenge. The darkness glinting in his gaze was just me looking for shadows where there weren’t any, but now those dark places inside of him reach out to engulf me.

  “Nina…”

  Could he stop saying my name in that voice? It is the best fuck me kind of voice. “Go to sleep. Or fuck me with your fingers. Either or.”

  “Such a romantic.”

  “Isn’t that giving you what you want?”

  He tugs my shoulder until I turn to face him. It’s too dark to make out his features, but his breath brushes along my forehead. “What I want is to…” He sighs. “To take you to places in California you’ve never fathomed. Maybe you’ll see them the way I do, or you’ll show me a whole other world I didn’t know exist. You’ll take some damn good pictures. You’ll win your contest and go on with your life, having done something incredible.”

  I lean in, hoping to catch a brow lift or a cocky smile. In the dark there’s nothing but the sincerity lacing through his voice. “Why do you care?”

  His laugh sends a shiver down my spine. “We haven’t hit the point in our relationship where I bring out the skeletons in my closet.” He pauses. “Unless you want to tell me yours.”

  I want my skeletons to stay deep in that closet. I don’t want to know how he’ll look at me after knowing the truth. There’s no taking back the pity. It’s a coward’s choice.

  I give him my back again, since I can’t see his face anyway. His breathing remains a steady beat between us.

  “Semi-truth?” I ask in the darkness.

  “Go for it.”

  “My only bath tonight was a wipe down of baby wipes. I suspect between sweat and pissing in bushes my pussy smells like something you should ward away.”

  I smile at his belly-gut kind of laugh. “Nina, I so have a crush on you.”

  “I tell you my vagina might smell like sulfur and death and that gives you a crush? You have issues, Tarek.”

  “Then maybe you haven’t met a lot of people who are honest. I haven’t. There’s Nate and Duke, but even they’ve told lies to themselves over the years.”

  “I didn’t pick that up from your friends.”

  “They’ve changed,” he says, and his words are flat.

  The realization hits me—his being single is a symptom of his damage. No different than mine, truth be told. Why that comforts me, I don’t know. I just know the control I keep dear snaps back into place, stronger than when I first laid eyes on Tarek. I know how to deal with this man. I know exactly where to poke and prod to find his monster. There’s safety in knowing where the danger lies. I breathe, close my eyes, and let the comfort of being in control again drag me into sleep.

  11

  Tarek

  * * *

  Her voice wakes me the next morning. I glance at the slant of light falling over the tent’s roof. Has to be about six. There’s plenty of bite in the air, nibbling at my exposed arm. I focus on the soft huskiness that is her voice.

  “I’m not dead, which means all my fears of a mountain lion chewing on my thigh were for naught. That’s beside the point. Look at this sunrise, you guys. See how the light plays on the mist. Wonderful right? Just take it in for five seconds.”

  She counts with Mississippis, and I want to kiss the ever-loving fuck out of her. The urge wraps itself around any other thought I attempt to have.

  Still blurry from sleep, I dig out the satellite phone. Nate answers on the first ring. “You okay?”

  He doesn’t sound blurry at all, but Nate’s idea of sleeping in is waking up at 5:05 a.m. “How do you walk around, knowing something about Robyn you shouldn’t?”

  “Ah. You’re having that kind of morning. There’s a lot I know about my wife. Some shit she’s aware of, others she’s not. I don’t mention shit until she does. That rule of thumb keeps me face deep in her pussy.”

  “With advice like this from my friends it’s a wonder I’m still single.”

  There’s a pause. “You’re looking to settle down?”

  “I’ve just had a few thoughts as to why I’m not.”

  Nate grunts. He may speak with a slow, deep drawl, but he’s no dummy. “Either you need to figure out what you’re doing wrong or come across a woman where you want to do all the right things.” His accent slows to a crawl. “Have you found that woman?”

  “I found a woman who confuses the shit out of me.”

  “That’s a start. You usually have everything plotted out from seduction to break up.”

  “What? Note, I’m not asking defensively. I’m curious.”

  “Noted. There’s a pattern with you. You meet, you flirt, you fuck, and then things come to an end. It’s like you’re going by a playbook, except you never played sports.”

  I scroll through my last relationships and…fuck. My life is my work and that’s where I tend to meet women. And it’s the gym. Only athletes are diehards, everyone else is a fly-by-night. I shouldn’t be surprised my relationships with women are the same.

  “But a playbook?”

  “You make it so they are comfortable doing depraved things.”

  And that’s always my driving force in a relationship. What gets her off? What’s the one thing she’d never ask for because she’s too scared or nervous or been told it’s not ladylike to enjoy filthy sex. Sex isn’t love, but it can be hell of a way to get to know someone—you’re both at your most vulnerable, physically.

  Being that vulnerable can also crumble a connection. Keisha and I stopped texting each other after an intense session. Calls went from a few days to weeks to nothing. I have broken a few hearts along the way.

  I don’t want to talk about or think about my past anymore. I reach over, quietly unzip the tent since Nina’s gone quiet. She’s fussing over the pot. With the flap open I catch the sent of burning coffee.

  “I gotta get packed up,” I tell Nate.

  “Keep the schedule, which means I’ll hear from you when you get to the hotel.”

  “Will do.” I end the call.

  I stretch before I climb out. She cringes and gestures to the coffee. “I don’t know what I did wrong.”

  “The fire was too high.”

  She narrows her gaze. “Why
didn’t you—”

  “Burnt coffee is still coffee.”

  She purses her lips. “That’s fair. What’s next?”

  “The next two stops are in opposite directions. Are you in the mood for a waterfall or the Bloody Trails?”

  “Bloody Trails first. It has history,” she answers without blinking.

  “I’m driving.”

  She gives me an oh, really look. “Then I get control of the radio?”

  “The last time you were in control—”

  “Mistakes were made and they will not be repeated.”

  I laugh then. “Someone woke up prissy.”

  “Actually, I’m thinking of my next shower, and how I will be air-drying on your face.”

  “I just want you to know if my mouth didn’t feel like I just ate a pound of dirt, I would kiss the shit out of you right now.”

  Nina giggles and glances away, but she turns to pour our respective cups of coffee. I made Nina giggle, a woman I’m starting to learn was born without a filter. Fuck if I don’t want to strut around like my dick is twenty inches. I take the cup she offers.

  Eventually she starts to mutter about our schedule. We’re a day ahead. I let her know to remain open to hiccups. Nature is our biggest wild card. Clear skies can turn dark and throw mudslides in our way since half of the waypoints involves steep cliffs or mountain terrain.

  Neither one of us talk about what happens next when we get to the hotel, but my skin remains tight as we hike our way back to civilization. My heart pounds when I have three bars on my cellphone. My dick gets so very hopeful after we check into the hotel. We’re a shower away from her sitting on my face. What a time to be alive.

  NINA

  * * *

  THE HOTEL DOOR closes behind me, and all I can think when Tarek throws his gaze in my direction is that my mouth gets me into all sorts of trouble.

  And I hate thinking that, even in jest. Years of therapy has trained me to know and believe on some level the words I say don’t deserve corporal punishment in response. They don’t paint me into corners, and there I must stay.