With a smile and wink, she rocks her voluptuous hips against his, praising his prayer. She serves as his shelter and his confidante, finding a peace and intimacy within her that he believes died long ago.
“Do you have any idea how much I love you?” His words speak the truth as she whittles his willpower down to let go and admit how much he actually needs her after all this time. “All the pain was so worth all of this. I should have never walked away and I am so sorry I did.”
“I am sorry, too. For everything—for not admitting how much I needed you and for not being honest with you.”
“I should have been there for you…”
“Don’t you go down that road, Sir,” she replies as her eyes fill with tears. “You did the best you could. We all did.”
“It was so difficult to lose her,” he professes, letting his own emotions show and trusting the woman. “I loved her so damn much.”
“I know you did,” she comforts, rubbing his back. “I know you did.”
“I did what I thought was best by walking away,” he confesses, pumping into her with slow and deliberate thrusts. The love is an aching manifestation of years of heartbroken memories. “I never imagined we would lose her so soon.”
“I don’t think any of us did,” she says, closing her eyes and embracing the moment. “She would be happy now.”
“Fuck yes, she would!” he boasts with a smile. “And she would be even happier to know I put that ring on your finger last night.”
Laying her hand between them, they both stare at the glorious diamond engagement solitaire as she whispers giddily, “I still can’t believe you asked me.”
“I love you, baby girl.”
“Don’t you ever stop making love to me.”
“I am never going to stop loving you,” he moans, grasping at her wrists and pinning them above her head. “But right now, I am going fuck you until you see stars.”
“Can I make a wish on one of them?”
“Baby, you can make a wish on all of them,” he groans, lifting her up and putting his arm beneath her body. He needs to be as close to her as possible now that he finally has her.
His ass bucks with a ferocity as he rockets their passion to a new height of unparalleled surrender. She is the one he fights for and waits so long to have. When everyone else has been an excuse, she holds the promise of tomorrow. And tomorrow is now.
Slicking around his shaft, she matches his dance and lets herself go. The trust she hands over, he swears to keep safe in his unyielding fight for her tender insecurity.
With her soul in his hands, he carries the responsibility of her heart. He has never been so honored, so overjoyed.
“Deeper…just a little,” Mierne moans as her hands caress over his thick forearms. “Oh, yes… Right there!”
“Let me have it, baby,” he commands. “Come for me.”
With a high-pitched wail, she hands over everything to this man. He jets up, coming deep inside of her shelter and laying down his all. Tears flutter over her cheeks as she passes by millions of stars and makes a wish on one.
“Did you do it?” he growls, kissing her cheeks.
“Of course, I did,” she acknowledges with a smile. “If I didn’t you would spank my ass.”
With a suggestive smirk rising up on his lips, he beams, “I’m going to spank your ass anyway, Dr.”
“I can only hope.”
Chapter Two
Running Home
SAL
THE TEXT MESSAGE VIBRATES the phone by my head as the red sheet clings to the lower half of my body. I pick it up in a half-sleepy daze, dropping it to the floor before reading it.
“Fuck.”
“Woof! Woof!” The chocolate dachshund comes running, barking at the intruder on the floor.
“Daisicle, shh!” I put a finger to my mouth.
“Woof! Woof!” she barks, lowering her front legs and leaving her ass high in the air.
“Daisicle Maria Theresa, hush now-a-la!”
Bending out of the bed, I move the aching, sore muscles showing off my ass and shoulders, wrapped in veil of ink. The tribal pieces enhance my physique, gloriously framing the hours I spend lifting in the gym. Delilah “The Dollmaker” Banks labored hours upon hours jetting a needle into my flesh.
I reach for the phone on the floor as the pup licks my hand. “C’mere, girl, let’s see who is harassing your Daddy so early in the morning.”
Glancing at the clock with bold turquoise numbers, I sigh at the glaring 7:04. I toss Daisicle on the bed and she attacks my face, licking and biting my chin covered in a week’s worth of scruff. “Ow! Ow!”
The message is from Cas. I quickly respond with a similar greeting followed by a smiley face.
Sitting up in bed, I blink at the muted flat screen television with the 24-hour news on and gaze at the mess the room has become. I toss the sheet off and yawn with a groan. Absentmindedly, I scratch my balls, unshaven for the last week. The morning wood throbs with pent up energy as my hand accidentally rubs against the shaft.
“Ugh, Dais…” I say, flattening back out with a decided thud. “Your daddy has got to get laid, babe. These fuckin dreams are gonna drive me insane.”
The dreams start shortly after arriving in Taos almost a month ago. Every night, she will be there—laughing, crying, smiling, and fucking the crap outta me. The hallucinations in my nocturne are relentlessly cruel to the point where I take to avoiding sleep as much as possible. I try whiskey. I try pain pills. I try weed. Nothing helps. Every night, Iris–fucking–Kettles will show up.
About every fifth night, these dreams turn to macabre nightmares where she will be harmed in some deranged manner. Last night is one of the unlucky nights. Strapped down, I watched in horror as a masked man removed her fingernails one by one. I wake up still hearing her screams, still helplessly witnessing her cries.
Rising up, I cramp and hobble along from the last week’s work. My shoulders are tight, my legs stiff. I open the curtains to the mountains and not a soul exists within shouting distance.
“We are going fishing today, little Daisicle.”
She yips at my heels as I walk through the house. I glance in the coffee cup from yesterday morning, still half full of glorious black caffeine. I microwave the shit too long, overheating it and burning the fuck out of my mouth. “This tastes like your shit smells, Dais.”
Running a hand through my hair, I open the fridge and toss her a small piece of grilled chicken. She swiftly carries it away. Swallowing the coffee, I clunk the cup down in the sink full of dishes.
I crank on the stereo and hit the floor doing a hundred push-ups. Dais gnaws on her chicken by the door waiting for my slow ass. Some days I am much faster than others. Today, I do not wish to be doing this. Given the lack of actual work-out equipment, I manage to toss in push-ups, sit-ups, planks, and pull-ups as well as the occasional cross country run.
I find a semi-clean pair of jeans and a white stained t-shirt, putting them on. With bare feet, I head outside the single-wide trailer when the phone goes off in my back pocket.
“Hold on a sec…” I grunt.
“What the hell are you doing?”
“Cassidy, I am taking a piss.”
Without waiting, Cas says, “Are you going?”
“Yeah, I am pissin a fuckin river,” I cackle with a smirk. “No, I am in New Mexico,” I reply, zipping my jeans. “Serene will be there. She gets in at one.”
“Okay. Be safe out there.”
“Love you, babe.”
“You, too.”
Daisicle goes running past me into the field, finding the perfect place to squat as I squint up at the sky and light a smoke. “Look what we did Dais.” She runs back over as I sweep her up into my arms. Standing before us is a giant replica of the barn I built for Serene.
The mammoth structure is made from old, hand-sewn wood. Not only did the sight inspire my mind, but all the heavy lifting pushed the guns enough to expand even more over the
past month.
I had to get a couple of the locals to come help get the frame up, and they easily obliged with the offer of cash and a suitcase of beer. There is no doubt in my mind this barn and stable will be far superior to the one I crafted so many years ago.
The scenic five-hundred-and-sixty acres belonged to Serene’s family for generations. With the barn completed, the house will begin in the next few weeks. The shelter is built to hold all the materials for the house.
Serene tells me to go away and build, flipping one whooping penny into my hand. I construct the barn and oversee the building of the house. I would have done it all for free, but she insists. And now the penny will be forever in my wallet.
Serene and I both left Sugargrove five weeks ago. She went to New York City to close the deal on her apartment and finish packing up her things. Her future plans include spending most of her time in Texas, and the vast apartment is nothing more than a bad memory of a marriage gone wrong.
Jeff Stanton only married her to cover his own ass. He is some well-respected attorney in New York City dealing with International Trade. The last thing he wants anyone to know is how big of a crook he actually is. His first wife turned out to be a rich white girl with a coke habit. Jeff took her for all she was worth. He offered his professional Dominatrix, aka therapist—Serene—a chunk of change to marry him ten years ago. He wants to be an established family man, but someone should inform him that marrying a world-renowned Domina is not the answer for the girl-next-door.
Chasing a squirrel, Daisicle serves as my impromptu purchase when I realize how quiet it is in the high deserts of New Mexico. Despite nightly video chats with people from home, I find the new feeling of loneliness three days in. After gushing over her golden boy with a puppy, Serene finally acknowledges it is good for me. The quiet will allow the head on my shoulders to take the lead for once.
We talk every night for hours, sometimes falling asleep and waking up on the screen. It may have been a single wide trailer, but Serene outfitted the damn thing like an upscale, five-star hotel. While the internet reception sometimes proves sketchy, it is pretty awesome considering the house is tucked away in the mountains.
Upon my arrival, she even had the kitchen stocked with my favorite protein powder and bars, fresh fruit and veggies, and a fridge full of beer and meat. She knows her little boy toy better than anyone. The only two things I had to buy were a shotgun and a companion.
I tried going into Taos once and found a bar full of young beauties. They challenged me to a game of pool, which is flirtatious and fun until they offered a blowjob in the parking lot. I quickly realized my cock—with a mind all its own—is going to find trouble. So, I paid for my beer and made a beeline for the door. I don’t need some skank pussy to make me feel better. It may have been good on the boom, but in the end, I know it won’t satisfy the way thoughts of Iris and my hand do.
But therein—I have an epiphany, getting my rocks off by any old girl with a nice face and half-pound of makeup no longer holds the same lure. I need Serene’s kiss of leather and want a certain someone special on her knees. The revelation changes me. And the me I was before… Well, he disappears, too.
My phone goes off again with another text from Cas. “You should know—rumor has it, she is going to be there.”
“Fancy. I won’t.” I spring off sarcastically.
“Sal… She didn’t renew her contract with Jack.”
I drop the phone into the sandy dirt. Picking it up, I dial Cas fast, but she doesn’t answer. I text her back.
“I cannot answer the phone, I am in the movies.”
“At 7:30 am?”
“Early film,” she replies.
I laugh and type, “You’re lying.”
“Yes. And I cannot answer the phone. I just thought you would want to know. I won’t be, but Iris will.”
I check my watch. If I get on the road now—right now—I may make the reception. Twelve to fourteen hours is a long-ass drive. Twelve to fourteen hours, I can have Serene’s whip on my ass and be talking to Iris again.
But which one will make me attempt that kind of drive?
“Daisicle, what should I do?” I gaze into her big, round brown eyes and kick up a dust cloud of dirt with my toes.
“Fuck!”
I run back to the trailer.
SAL
By three, I reach Abilene and call Cas, but she doesn’t answer. I try Zoe, and she doesn’t answer either. I scoff at my phone and think about throwing it, giving it a hate-filled, what the fuck expression.
“Dais…baby…”
I glance at her, laying in the passenger seat as her eyes shoot up without moving her head. I whisper, “Damn women getting their hair done!”
The drive lingers on incredibly boring. The roads are fairly empty—thank heavens—as I push it hard. I don’t bother to grab anything other than Daisicle, my boots and back pack, holding everything important. Clothes though—I have none.
And I stink to high hell.
Working sun up to sun down on the barn—sometimes exhaustion takes hold—I just haven’t bothered with a shower. Such as it was last night. I came inside, flopped on the bed and called Serene, spending her last night in the apartment. Her boxes packed and signatures signed for her apartment as she beamed ecstatic.
Like so many nights, her command over the miles seems more important than ever before. When she tells me to undress, I don’t give her any flack.
“Good boy,” she said with a smile. “Show me.”
I know exactly what she wanted. It is the same thing she wants every night—to see me – all of me – in all of my glory. Last night was particularly embarrassing as I pass out hard with video chat on in one hand and a tissue in the other.
Driving along the flat roads, I realize Iris is hours away. My dirty cock flexes against the fabric of my jeans. Her red hair in my face, the smell of her lavender soap under my nose, the feel of her silky soft skin under my grasp… I adjust myself doing ninety. I wanted it to be her in the pool hall that night. We would tease and taunt one another until I lean against the truck and she kneels, taking my shaft fully down her throat between her coaxing, sweet lips. I strain against the zipper.
“Fuck…”
I toss my blue hoodie into the seat for Daisicle. She moves, curling up into a ball and falling asleep. Carefully, I undo my fly and grab the shaft hard, stroking slow as I think about Iris sucking on my dick.
Needing me. Wanting me.
God, how I want her…
Within minutes, spew drips off the steering wheel. “I have reached a whole new level of nasty, Dais.”
Although probably not the best thing I could do, beating one off refreshes and readies me for the rest of the drive ahead. Starving, I stop at a local joint in an unknown town. I go in and all the teenage girls giggle with excitement at the cute boy walking in.
With my ball cap on, they have no clue I am twenty-five. For their amusement, I shoot them a grin before heading to the bathroom. Of course, one has to follow, waiting in the hall. Dumbstruck, she says nothing as I excuse myself past her and go to pick up the food. Opening the door to leave, I wave and wink as one squeals.
Truth is I miss being up on stage, the center of attention. Adoring the energy bouncing between the crowd, I rock high off the scintillating scene. Although Serene says I can continue working parties, I decline, wanting to try to stay monogamous—but to who? Even I don’t know. Perhaps myself.
Some things remain out of my league.
One drunk night at Uncle Joe’s winter luau, new student Allie paraded about in a grass skirt. We ended up behind the barn, laying in the grass with her screaming, “Do me, Sal! Please.”
Begging girls always pose such a huge weakness.
I clearly have no choice but to fuck her senseless. And she is alright—alright, as in, too easy. I like the challenge, the friction, the tension, the angst of hate and love and the passion that bubbles up from it.
Of course, Se
rene doesn’t know about Allie until I stupidly face chatted with both of them at the same time. In the middle of shooting my load, I flip to Serene’s screen and moan, “Oh, Allie!”
Fuck, I find trouble.
Serene refused to look at me for a week.
I sent flowers. Chocolates. More flowers. A case of her favorite Bordeaux. She finally broke.
Nonetheless, that doesn’t stop me. I started calling Allie and talking to her while we both get off. She is nothing more than a young, begging, submissive, fulfilling the desperate need to have my hand against a girl’s ass. Allie is a more than willing participant who thinks she is the bomb for having an online affair with the Sal Raniero—one in a ten, sweetheart. A fuck is a fuck and love is love. And there is only one reason to drive all this way, and it sure as hell ain’t a fuck.
While I have a spoken contract with Serene, there is no written one. No minimum time limit. I know she loves me and keeps my ass spoiled. I love her whip and serve her needs well, but she still has emotional reservations.
But who am I to judge?
That other side of the coin is one I refuse to flip.
Passing through another nameless small town, I notice a thrift store and stop in for a couple of gifts for the only one that matters. I buy some vintage lingerie, a pair of never worn black boots with buckles up the side, and a beautiful white coat with enormous white pearl and gold buttons from the sixties. It is pristine and perfect, and I know she will love it. I pay extra to have the sales lady box it all up with giant pink bows.
By seven, my ass is numb from sitting on it all day. I have grown accustomed to hard labor, working and sweating. Seeing the signs for Austin, I head back west. Depending on the wedding traffic, thirty minutes—twenty to Sugargrove and another ten out to Juliet—rest between Iris and I. The betrothed marry at On the Square Chapel, a non-denominational church, and I know I better come up quick with something to say to Iris, but I am not sure what.
The wedding is so grotesquely large that they have rented the actual square, put in chairs, and big screens showing the wedding in the chapel which only holds one-hundred-twenty-five. They have invited at least a thousand people.
Salt Kissed Love (a Tomb of Ashen Tears Book 1) Page 4
